by Eugeine Ware
Buffalo were visible with a field-glass on both sides of the river, but in small numbers, and much scattered. They were not in herds. With a field-glass the antelope could be seen on the north of the river in myriads, and in great numbers towards the hills south and in front of us. In the road I captured a prairie-dog. He was large and fat, and was going from one mound to another. I headed him off, and finally caught him on foot. Our two dogs, "Kearney," owned by Captain O'Brien, and "Lady," owned by me, given to us, as stated, at Fort Kearney, were great companions. They were constantly coursing out and around, and stirring up game; wolves and jack-rabbits were frequent. The dogs gave some beautiful runs after antelope, but the antelope, having much the start, was able to outrun the dogs. Here we found out for the first time that the "jack-rabbit" was swifter than the antelope. A pilgrim on the road who watched our dogs run, told us that if we wanted to have good fun we must get a stag-hound to go with the grey-hounds, because, he said, the greyhound courses by sight, and often misses the game, but the stag-hound by scent will keep the track, and recover the pursuit. So, thereupon, we kept our eyes open, and bought a stag-hound of a passing train, and named him, from his loud, sonorous voice, "Bugler," and with the three afterwards we often caught antelope and jack-rabbits.
From Fort Kearney, for many miles up, there was no water in the river. The water seemed to be in "the underflow." We not infrequently rode down to the river, and with shovels dug watering-places in the sand of the bed. We always found permanent water within eighteen inches of the top, no matter how dry the sand on top appeared to be. We were told that 75 miles of the river were then dry, and that generally about 125 miles of it were dry in the dryest season. At French's ranch the water began to appear on the surface in the shape of damp places and little pools.
The next morning, being the morning of October 10th, another stage with escort passed us, and we were joined by the assistant surgeon of our regiment, who had been ordered to overtake us, and act as our medical attendant at the post which we were about to establish. We started bright and early in the morning, and having made about fifteen miles, halted to rest the horses. Buffalo were noticed over in the hills south of us, and many antelope. The hills were constantly rising higher, and canyons were running into them south from the river. Leaving the company to proceed to a certain designated place seventy-five miles west of Kearney, called Smith's ranch, Captain O'Brien and I and the Doctor and the Vote Commissioner, Mr. Redfield, went out into the hills. Our horses were fresh, and we saw the buffalo scattered seemingly at great distances, as far as the eye could reach, all apparently driving to the south. We had now got into the country where Indians were making occasional raids, stealing horses, and killing heedless travelers. We did not care to pursue the buffalo nor kill them unnecessarily, but we desired to watch their movements, and to view the country. We found a tableland as level as a floor as far as the eye could reach, with buffalo scattered over it, that was ever and anon disappearing. The reason of it was that the canyons were cut down straight from the level of the plain, and showed no signs of existence; nor could the depressions be noticed until arriving almost at their brinks. Then beautiful valleys were seen, narrow and deep, full of enormous cedar trees, box elders, hackberry, plum trees, and shrubbery. There were always places that we could find to descend into the canyons, and come out on the other side. We rode along this plain, over these beautiful valleys, for fully ten miles. Down in the valleys the buffalo were plenty, and there were very many deer; wolves in droves were observed sneaking along the sides. Our two dogs were constantly hunting and developing game. There had never been an ax put into these canyons, except a little at their openings near the river. The cedar trees were as straight as arrows, very numerous, and all sizes up to two feet in diameter. They grew mostly from the bottom of the canyon, yet no tree-tops were seen rising above the level of the plain.
Having killed what buffalo we wanted, and taken the tongues and humps, we turned obliquely towards the river to resume our place with the command. At a point on the corner of a canyon as it opened out into the broad plain of the Platte River we came across a new Indian grave. It was on a scaffold made of four poles. These poles had evidently been lodge-poles, and were set into the ground. About ten feet from the ground, thongs had been stretched across from pole to pole, and a scaffold made; the Indian, wrapped up in a fresh buffalo-hide and bound up with a horsehair lariat, had been left to dry. Some portion of a horse had been tied to each lodge-pole; perhaps the horse had been quartered, and the legs tied up; at any rate, there were the bones off which the wolves had eaten, but they had not been able to get up to disturb the Indian, who had probably been killed soon before in a raid down the road. The Captain and I rode northwest, while the Doctor and Vote Commissioner, separating from us, went north towards the river. We could from our high elevation see our company of cavalry in the rear, miles away, coming slowly and silently up the plain, with a cloud of dust drifting to the north.
The wind had very much freshened, and as we got down into the valley, which was here two or three miles wide on each side of the stream, Captain O'Brien started to light a cigar. This was a great feat for any one to do, in such a wind, on horseback. But the Captain from his former service in the army claimed that he could light a cigar in a tornado. The Captain did light a cigar and threw the match away, which he thought had gone out. In a flash a blaze started up in a northerly course towards the river. The grass was fine and silky; the "prairie-grass" had not got in that country at that time, and there was only short, matted buffalo-grass. The flame went with the speed of a railroad train, enlarging as it went. Towards the river the blaze widened and the fire went with a hoarse rumble. In the track ahead of this fire were some cattle grazing. They immediately took flight, and fled towards the river in front of the fire. The fire soon reached the river in a path about one-half mile wide, and became soon extinguished. Several of the cattle were injured jumping down the river-bank, and a man rode out to us and demanded pay. The Captain told the man that the circumstances were entirely an accident, and sympathized with the man, and drawing up his canteen, which was nearly full of whisky (which the Captain partook very little of), he handed it to the man, who pulled away at it as if he had met an old friend that he had not seen for years. The result was that he rode down with us to the river, and when they saw the cattle there, our teams soon came up, and we got the few injured cattle out, killed and skinned them, hung them up to dry over-night, and Captain O'Brien gave a voucher to the man for so many pounds of beef, averaging five hundred pounds to the animal, at six cents a pound. It turned out all right. They were nice fat cattle, and we needed the meat, and the man got his pay through the department quartermaster.
We camped for the night between seventy-five and eighty miles west of Fort Kearney. At the place where we camped the water was visible in the river, but there was no distinct current. The nights were becoming chilly, the elevation higher, and the wind more constant. About every ten miles from French's ranch west there was a store-building with a high, thick, sodded inclosure used as a corral. These places were also stage stations, and some had sod structures like bastions, built out on the corners, so as to make places of defense. And with each of these places there was generally a herd of cattle, a bunch of Indian ponies, some herders, and a lot of Indian-trading goods; for during the previous summer the Indians had come in to trade all along the line of the Platte valley from French's ranch west. They brought in lots of well-tanned buffalo-robes, quantities of antelope-skins, tanned and untanned, great quantities of buckskin, and many other articles of peltry. But trading with the Indians had stopped, for there was a growing feeling of hostility, although there were still some white men living with the Indians, who had joined them years before, learned the languages and married into the tribes. But unless the white man could speak the language and had lived among them for several years, and had married into the tribe, he was not liked, and his life was in danger. These white men had all come in, and
were to be found idling away their time at the various ranches which we passed; some were acting as herders. There were also white hunters and trappers who picked up a great deal of fun, and much money, along the Platte, because at certain places there were beaver and other fur-bearing animals.
We started early on October 11th, and passed Gilmans' ranch, which was built of cedar, and, going fifteen miles farther, camped at a spring called Cottonwood Springs. A man by the name of Charles MacDonald had built a cedar ranch at the mouth of Cottonwood Canyon, which canyon came down to the river near Cottonwood Springs. Cottonwood Springs was merely a seep in a gully which had been an old bed of the river, and which had curved up towards Cottonwood Canyon. The water-bed of the river being largely composed of gravel, the water came down in the underflow, and seeped out at a place down in the bank where there had grown a large cottonwood tree. This spring had been dug out, and was the only spring as far as known along the Platte for two hundred miles. It was at the mouth of Cottonwood Canyon that we were to build our military post. The place was a great crossing for the Indians going north and south. The valley here was several miles wide. There was a large island in the river of several thousand acres, upon which grew the finest grass to be found in the country, and there were some scrubby willows and cottonwoods; so that the Indians coming from the north found it a good stopping-place to feed their ponies either in summer or winter, because in the winter the ponies could eat the cottonwood brush. In addition to this, Cottonwood Canyon gave a fine passage to the south. A road went up on the floor of the canyon, between the trees, until it rose onto the tableland twenty miles south. The canyon furnished fuel and protection. It was for the purpose of breaking up this Indian run-way that we were ordered to build a post at the mouth of the canyon. We arrived there at eleven o'clock in the morning of October 11, 1863.
Chapter VI.
The Settlement at Cottonwood Springs – MacDonald's Ranch – Cutting Trees – October 31, 1863 – Building Barracks – Building Quarters and Stables – November 3, 1863 – The Election – Thanksgiving – The Gilmans – Indian Names – Masonic Ceremonies – Skunks – Artillery and Indians – Indian visitors – Loyal League – December 15, 1863
COTTONWOOD SPRINGS, when we arrived there, was one of the important points on the road. MacDonald, who had a year or so before our arrival, built, as stated, a cedar-log store-building. The main building was about twenty feet front and forty feet deep, and was two stories high. A wing 50 feet extended to the west. The latter was, at the eaves, about eight feet high and fifteen feet deep in the clear. Around it in the rear was a large and defensible corral, which extended to the arroyo coming out of the canyon. It had been a good trading-point with the Indians, and there was a stage station there, and a blacksmith shop kept by a man named Hindman. In the stage station was a telegraph office. There was also on the other side of the road a place where canned goods and liquors were sold, kept by a man named Boyer, who had lost a leg, and whom the Indians called "Hook-sah," which meant "cut leg." MacDonald had dug, in front of his store, and cribbed up, an inexhaustible well, which was said to be forty-six feet deep; it was rigged with pulley, chain, and heavy oaken buckets. MacDonald and those at the place had formerly had a good trade with the Indians, but now it was all ended, and they were in danger.
We immediately pitched our tents, and marked out the quadrangle for company quarters, officers' quarters, and guard-house. The next day was spent in unloading our supplies, putting them under shelter, and organizing the squads for going up into the canyon for cedar logs. We had only about seventy-five men that were really effective for hard work, but many of them were very skillful in the use of the ax, and many knew how to handle tools. The end room of the wing of MacDonald's cedar structure was used as "pilgrim quarters." It had a heavy clay roof, and a large simple cast-iron cook stove, with sheet-iron stovepipe running up through the roof. Our "Post Headquarters" used that room for office and mess, but we slept in our tents. On October 13th we started up the canyon; six of our men had worked in the pineries, and were expert axmen. They went to work as three couples to fell the trees. Their axes were sharp, the weather stimulating, and they tumbled the trees rapidly. Other squads trimmed the branches; others with a crosscut saw worked in constant reliefs, cutting the logs the right length. Our quarters had been planned to be built of twenty-foot logs. These logs were about a foot in diameter. We had our pick. After getting down a lot of the logs, we organized squads with our team mules to snake them out of the canyon. The men made rapid work, and every night every man who had worked in the canyon got a good snifter from my barrel of 1849 whisky. We were racing against the weather, and I never saw men work with more activity. The main barracks for the men were designed as six square rooms, which made a long building one hundred twenty feet long by twenty feet wide on the outside. Among our number were those who had built log cabins, and knew how to "carry up a corner," as the expression was. So the logs were snaked down, and with assistance the men at the corners notched them up, and it was but a few days before the cabins seven feet high in the clear were ready for the roof. The best logs were kept out to build Company Headquarters with. In a little while we had the pole roof on, with the interstices filled with cedar boughs, and about ten inches of good hard clay tamped down; but we were still without doors and windows, although we had places for them sawed out in the log walls. The large logs, of which there were many over twelve inches in diameter, were reserved for lumber. We dug out a place on the bank of the arroyo as a saw-pit, and having two whip-saws, the men were started sawing out lumber one inch in thickness. The men took turns at the top, and the bottom, with the saw, sawing the length of a log. Then they were relieved by two others, so that the whip-saws were kept running all the time, but no one had more than one round a day at that particular work. With smaller cedar poles cut, and used as joists, we soon had bunks made in each of the rooms of our company's quarters. We had drawn "hay bags" from the quartermaster at Fort Kearney. These we used as straw-ticks, and filled with whatever the soldiers wanted to put in. The boys chose partners, and began to occupy the bunks. We had drawn a lot of sheet-iron for the purpose of making stoves, and stovepipes. Our blacksmith rapidly fixed the company up with sorts of funnel-shape sheet-iron stoves, in which the cedar chips burned like tinder. These company quarters were rather close, there being no communication between the different rooms. Sixteen men occupied a room, and between the bunks was a space where they had their mess-cooking, and their mess-eating. With the whipsaw, lumber enough was got out for a door in front of each room, and a window shutter in the rear.
One or more non-commissioned officers were established in each room, and the north end room was a non-commissioned officers' mess. In our kits were two broadaxes, and there were men who knew how to use them, so the Company Headquarters building was made of logs that had been "scored and hewed." The scoring was a simple process. The man stood on the top of the log, and chopped into a line through the whole length of the log, and then the man with the broadax hewed in and straightened it. By working in reliefs, in a few days the Company Headquarters building, eight feet high and twenty feet square, with a puncheon floor and cedar door, and with an oil-paper window, was ready. Then we put up a house in which to store supplies. This was forty by twenty. Then across the road – for we had built alongside of the road and quite near to MacDonald's ranch – across the road we put up a hospital building of twenty-foot square-hewed logs, with a sort of porch. These buildings were all "chinked and daubed." That is, blocks and chips were driven in between the logs, and clay was mixed into mortar by the wagon-load down near the springs, and hauled up, and the walls plastered up inside and out so that they were air-tight. Afterwards, the roof having become settled, the clay was dampened and plastered with a trowel. Then we built a guard-house twenty feet square, divided across the middle so that the back half of it was as dark as a dungeon, with a big heavy plank door with hinges extending across, which our blacksmith had made. Then it becam
e necessary to look after our horses, and to build a stable to protect them. Thesewere built upon the palisade principle. We made the outline of our stable just about two hundred feet long, although it bent with an angle so that we could fill in the other angles, and have a square with an open interior. We dug a trench three feet deep. We cut the posts only twelve feet long, and putting them on end in the trench, we filled the trench, leaving the posts standing side and side. When the walls were up, which did not require very long time, the tops of the posts were sawed off level, and a plate-rail spiked on top of them, with spikes made by the blacksmith, one to a log. Upon this we placed a roof, and then fitted up the interior with poles, and got our horses under cover. Between these upright palisades we drove blocks, put in filling, and on the west and north plastered them up. It was very interesting to watch work go forward in such a case as this. There were men in the company who collectively knew how to do everything, and do it well. Everyone was desirous of getting fixed before the cold weather, and there was no laziness or shirking.
Upon Tuesday, November 3, 1863, the election came off. A strong Copperhead and "peace-at-any-price" party had grown up in Iowa, and the election was centered upon the governorship. The National Democratic party had McClellan for a nominal head; it was trying to bring the war to a close, and was propounding all kinds of arbitrations and compromises. The only position for the soldiers to take was that of fighting the thing right straight through to the bitter end, and making the United States, in the language of Lincoln, "All slave or all free." Such was the grim determination of the men in the field, and in the ranks; such was the sentiment of most of the officers. There were several in the company of whom I had begun to have suspicions, but I think by desertion afterward they mostly eliminated themselves, and their influence, from the company. Capt. O'Brien got the company together at noon on election day, and made them a speech. So did I. It wasn't very much of a speech, only I told them we couldn't afford to let Iowa get into the hands of the Copperheads, because then they would stop recruiting, and try to bring the war to a close. We made the speeches a little bit bitter, and got the men worked up pretty thoroughly. I was the election officer who was to receive and count and forward the ballots. The Captain was as ardent as I was, and a better talker. I was pleasantly surprised that the men stayed with us; only eight voted the opposite ticket. Capt. O'Brien was much delighted. I made every effort to find out from among the boys who it was that voted those eight votes. It was, of course, somewhat difficult to find out, but I think five of the eight became deserters, and of the other three one was killed by whisky, and two had poor military records. Assisted by the soldier vote, the State of Iowa was saved, and retained in the ranks of loyal States. On looking back it seems to me strange how hard we had to fight and yet how much exertion we had to put forth to control those in the rear so that we could be permitted to put down the Rebellion. As I look back on it I don't see how it was that the Union was saved; and I cannot comprehend, although I was in the middle of it, how it was that we managed to keep things going until the end came, in a satisfactory manner.
