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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraphs
Modoc War Chronology
Characters
Maps
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Author’s Afterword
Teaser
The Plainsmen Series by Terry C. Johnston
Praise
Copyright
for what the years ahead
can mean to us both,
I lovingly dedicate this novel
to my son,
Noah
The Modocs are not yet extinct. But the spirit that drove them to resist the inevitable westering of the whites died in the lava beds. Occasionally, on frost-biting nights, the cries of coyotes haunt the ghostly, star-lit Stronghold, bringing back the memory of that time. A time to remember.
—Erwin N. Thompson
Modoc War—Its Military History & Topography
[General Jefferson C.] Davis should have killed every Modoc before taking him if possible, then there would have been no complications.
—General William T. Sherman
6 June, 1873, correspondence to General Philip H. Sheridan
The Modoc War bathed none of its participants in glory, or even credit … The army made a mess of almost everything it attempted. Commanders quarreled or simply did not cooperate; underestimated, then overestimated the enemy; hesitated when they should have acted, acted when they should have hesitated. Enlisted men proved too easily panicked, repulsed, and demoralized. In the end, Modoc defectors provided the key to military “victory.”
—Robert M. Utley
Frontier Regulars
Few among them felt they were their brother’s keeper; the Good Samaritan spirit scarcely existed. Some of the men had been officers during the Civil War; because they had been in some kind of trouble, they had re-enlisted under assumed names as a way to spend a few months or years until their failings had been forgotten. A few were said to have been Confederate veterans. Enlisted men were considered beneath the notice or concern of their officers, and the casualty reports scarcely took note of them. Officers were mentioned by name; sometimes non-commissioned officers were mentioned; privates were almost never listed. If they died, they were buried, frequently without a marker of any kind, and they wore no identification unless they pinned notes on their clothes saying who they were. If they were unfortunate enough to be killed, frequently these scraps of paper would be discarded, and they were interred simply as unknown dead. There they lay, unmourned, in uncared-for graves, many times lost to the knowledge of their loved ones.
—Keith A. Murray
The Modocs and Their War
Modoc War Chronology
October 1864
treaty signed with Klamath-Modocs
April 1870
Jack leaves the reservation
November 29, 1872
Battle of Lost River
December 21, 1872
Battle of Land’s Ranch
January 17, 1873
First Battle for the Stronghold
January 22, 1873
First Battle of Scorpion Point
January 29, 1873
Peace Commission appointed
April 11, 1873
murder of Peace Commission and Lieutenant Sherwood
April 14–17, 1873
Second Battle for the Stronghold
April 26, 1873
“Thomas-Wright” Massacre at Black Ledge
May 2, 1873
Second Battle of Scorpion Point
May 10, 1873
Battle of Sorass/Dry Lake
May 22, 1873
Battle of Willow Creek Ridge
June 1, 1873
Captain Jack surrenders
July 1–9, 1873
trial of Modoc leaders
October 3, 1873
execution of Modoc leaders; exile of Captain Jack’s band to Oklahoma/Indian Territory
Characters
Seamus Donegan
Civilians
Ian O’Roarke—Donegan’s uncle, rancher, Hot Creek, California
Elisha Steele—onetime superintendent of Northern California in Yreka, friend of Captain Jack
John Fairchild—rancher, Cottonwood Creek, California
Pressley Dorris—rancher, Butte Valley, California
O. C. Knapp—Indian Agent, District of the Lakes
Oliver C. Applegate—Yainax sub-agency commissary operator; interpreter, head of company of Oregon volunteers
Ivan Applegate—rancher, Clear Lake, California/one-time agent to the Klamaths
Jesse Applegate—rancher, Clear Lake, California
Bob Whittle—ferryboat operator on Link River; interpreter (wife: Matilda)
H. Wallace Atwell—known as “Bill Dadd the Scribe,” reporter for Sacramento Record
T. B. Odeneal—Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Oregon
Patrick McManus—civilian packer for the army
Eugene Hovey—civilian teamster from Yreka, California
“General” John E. Ross—Commander, Oregon Volunteer Militia
Eadweard Muybridge—San Francisco photographer
Dennis Crawley—settler on Lost River
Louis Land—settler on east side of Tule Lake
Louis Webber—head packer for Thomas-Wright Patrol
H. C. Ticknor—local settler, surveyor of Ticknor Road, guide
Charley Larengel—civilian packer/Battle of Sorass Lake
George Fiocke—civilian in on capture of Hooker Jim’s village
Jack Thurber—civilian in on capture of Hooker Jim’s village (killed)
Army
General Edward R. S. Canby—Commanding Officer, Department of the Columbia and Acting Head, Military Division of the Pacific (SCOTT—orderly; MONAHAN—personal secretary)
Colonel Jefferson C. Davis—successor as Commanding Officer, Department of the Columbia
Lieutenant Colonel (Bvt. Major General) Frank Wheaton—Commander of the 21st Infantry, District of the Lakes, director of Modoc Campaign from 11/72 to 1/23/73 and after 5/22/73
Colonel (Bvt. Major General) Alvan C. Gillem—Commander, Modoc Campaign, January 23–May 22, 1873
Major (Bvt. Colonel) John Green—First Cavalry, commanding officer at Fort Klamath; field commander in Strong
hold battle
Major (Bvt. Colonel) Edwin C. Mason—21st Infantry, commander east side of Stronghold
Captain (Bvt. Colonel) David Perry—First Cavalry, Troop F, wounded January 17
Captain (Bvt. Major) James Jackson—First Cavalry, Troop B, commander during Battle of Lost River
Captain (Bvt. Colonel) James Biddle—First Cavalry, Troop K, captured Modoc ponies in March during sweep of Lava Beds
Captain (Bvt. Colonel) R. F. Bernard—First Cavalry, Troop G, cavalry commander on east side of Stronghold; commanding officer during Battle of Land’s Ranch
Captain (Bvt. Major) Evan Thomas—Fourth Artillery, Battery A, killed April 26
Captain H. C. Hasbrouck—Fourth Artillery, Battery B (mounted and serving as cavalry), commanding officer at Battle of Sorass Lake in May; escorted defeated Modocs to Kansas
Captain William Trimble—H Troop, 1st Cavalry, captures Captain Jack, June 1
Lieutenant Thomas F. Wright—Twelfth Infantry, Company E, killed April 26
Lieutenant John Kyle—Troop G, 1st Cavalry
Lieutenant John Quincy Adams—Signalman, 21st Infantry
Lieutenant Albion Howe
Lieutenant George M. Harris
Lieutenant Arthur Cranston
Lieutenant William Sherwood—killed on April 11, 1873
Lieutenant Boyle
Lieutenant Charles C. Cresson
Lieutenant George R. Bacon
Lieutenant E. R. Theller—Company I, 21st Infantry
Lt. Frazier A. Boutelle
Lieutenant J. B. Hazelton
Sergeant Robert Romer—4th Artillery
Sergeant Malachi Clinton—12th Infantry
Sergeant Michael McCarthy—H Troop, 1st Cavalry
Sergeant Maurice Fitzgerald—K Troop, 1st Cavalry
Private James Shay—F Troop, 1st Cavalry
Private Charles Hardin
Dr. Cabaniss—army surgeon
Dr. Bernard A. Semig—Assistant Surgeon
Henry McElderry—Assistant Surgeon
Scouts and Interpreters
Bob Whittle—ferryboat operator with wife Matilda; interpreter
Frank Riddle—trapper and hunter on Lost River; interpreter for Peace Commission and at trials
Toby (Winema) Riddle—Frank’s wife; interpreter for Peace Commission
Donald McKay—half-breed guide and interpreter, leader of Tenino scouts/mercenaries from Warm Springs Reservation in Oregon
O. C. “One-Arm” Brown—Superintendent Odeneal’s scout/interpreter from Fort Klamath
Dave Hill—Klamath Indian in on capture of Hooker Jim’s camp, leader of some Klamath mercenaries
Settlers Murdered by Modocs, 29 November 1872
Wendolen Nus
William Boddy
Richard Cravigan
William Brotherton
Henry Miller
Christopher Erasmus
John Tober
Joe Penning (severely wounded and left for dead)
Frank Follins
William Schira
William Cravigan
W. K. Brotherton
Nicholas Schroeder
Robert Alexander
Adam Shillingbow
Peace Commission Representatives
Alfred B. Meacham—Head of Peace Commission (onetime Indian superintendent for Oregon)
Rev. Eleazar Thomas—peace commissioner (killed by Boston Charley, April 11, 1873)
L. S. Dyar—peace commissioner (Klamath sub-agent/succeeding Knapp)
Modocs
Captain Jack/Kientpoos
•
PEACE FACTION:
Scar-Faced Charley—leader after Jack’s execution, lieutenant under Captain Jack
Humpy Joe
William Faithful (Wild Gal’s Man)
Queen Mary—Jack’s sister
•
WAR FACTION:
Curly Headed Doctor
Schonchin John—second in command
Bogus Charley—messenger between Modocs and army, “bloodhound”
•
Hot Creek Band
Shacknasty Jim—murderer, “bloodhound”
Steamboat Frank—“bloodhound”, later a Quaker lay minister
Bogus Charley
Ellen’s Man George—one of Canby’s murderers, killed 10 May, 1873
Boston Charley—hanged for the murder of Thomas
Black Jim—hanged for murder
Barncho—died in Alcatraz prison for part in murder
Miller’s Charley—killer of Sherwood, never brought to trial
Curly Headed Jack—killer of Sherwood, suicide in June, 1873
Sloluck—pardoned and exiled after term in Alcatraz prison
Hooker Jim—killer of settlers in November, “bloodhound”
Duffy—killer of settlers in November
Long Jim—killer of settlers in November
One-Eyed Mose—killer of settlers in November
Maps drawn by author, with his appreciation, compiled from maps drawn by Doris Palmer Payne and Erwin N. Thompson
Maps drawn by author, with his appreciation, compiled from maps drawn by Doris Palmer Payne and Erwin N. Thompson
Prologue
Season of the Raven Calling
Fear rose in his throat like bile.
He had been afraid before, but nothing like this.
For the first time in his life—afraid of dying.
Captain Jack swallowed the fear down and shuffled forward, dragging the heavy chains that encased his ankles across the wooden floor of the tiny guardhouse. Heading for the door and the patch of cold October sunlight the soldiers allowed to enter this close, stinking place.
Three others already shuffled ahead of him. Two more trailed behind Jack.
“Ho! Captain Jack!” hollered a soldier as the Modoc chief emerged into the sunlight.
That’s what the white men called him. His adult name, bestowed upon him many years before by the white miners over at Yreka, California. So many seasons gone the way of the snow geese. Captain Jack remembered this was to have been his thirty-third winter as his eyes finally rose to the pine-plank scaffold and the ugly beam arching over the platform. And the six knotted ropes dangling still as death itself, their shadows smeared darkly over the first rows of wide-eyed, gape-mouthed spectators.
Jack and the rest were manhandled up into the back of an army wagon where they were crowded together atop four crude coffins. The mules lurched forward at the insistence of an impatient teamster, carrying the condemned through the muttering crowd of white and copper-skinned faces, everyone straining to catch a glimpse of the great Captain Jack of the renegade Modocs.
The soldier wagon halted beside the pine-plank scaffold. Jack could smell the newness of the timber as four of the six prisoners were dragged down from the wagon bed by blue-clad soldiers. The other two, an interpreter explained without emotion, would not be hanged this day. This, Jack did not understand as he was shoved forward into a group of grasping arms.
He forced himself to believe it did not matter. He could face this, as he had faced everything else in its season.
Death too had its own time.
After two sweating soldiers had chiseled the iron shackles from his ankles, Jack was hurriedly hoisted up the ladder to the narrow platform. Reaching the platform, he noticed the cutaway trapdoor where he and the other three would stand, each beneath a dangling noose. Then he looked away to the sun overhead.
A tight-faced soldier came forward quickly, shuffling Jack into position before he dragged a black, airless bag over his head. Jack swallowed hard. Even though no one could see his eyes, he vowed he would not let them know he was afraid. It would be over quickly, he prayed.
He remembered hearing that a man did some dreaming when he died—while he was crossing over. It was all the shamans had taught him as a boy.
He hoped the dreaming would not take long today, beneath this cold autumn sun.
The old whit
e shaman’s words were muffled, coming through the black hood, but Jack could tell the man was fervently praying to his white god.
His legs were shoved together. A soldier, someone, was wrapping and tying, lashing his legs together securely.
I’m not supposed to kick when I start dreaming, he vowed to himself.
As the hands left his legs pinched beneath the tight rope, a stillness came suddenly over the platform. He heard some boots scuff across the new timber planks, then a nervous cough. Jack strained, and listened to the heavy breathing of the young soldier who had been standing to his left when he was shoved into position—the fresh-faced youth dressed in soldier blue who stood stiffly with his two freckled hands clamped on a long pole near the end of the platform.
He will be the one to kill us. No … Curly Headed Doctor and his foolish warriors are the ones who have killed me. Not this young soldier—
There came a rustle to his left, surprising him—the creaking of the huge lever the freckle-faced soldier stood against—and the floor fell away beneath Jack’s bound feet.
For a moment he struggled as the rope cut into his neck, jerking his head to the side—he fought to control his legs, which convulsively drew up against the tight bindings. Jack did not want to fight it now.
Only air, fight only for air, he told himself. Like being down in one of the swimming ponds too long and clawing his way back up.
The hands tied at his back with cruel hemp did not feel like his, wrenching against one another now, fighting to get freed.
Then as he watched in utter amazement—the surface of the blue water above him grew placid, smooth and untroubled. Not churned as he remembered from the days of his youth.
With trouble, he opened his burning, tortured eyes, staring up at the shafts of sunlight diffused through the many feet of water left for him to crawl through …
… and then it did not matter any longer that he hurry to the top.
Devil's Backbone: The Modoc War, 1872-3 Page 1
