by Dee Brown
This day, the 17th of September, was to be a busy Monday at Fort Phil Kearny. Lieutenant Brown had scarcely returned with the recaptured beef cattle when a contract commissary train arrived with sixty thousand rounds of Springfield rifle ammunition. The contractor was also willing to sell a few bushels of corn, badly needed for reconditioning mounts. At about the same time a mail escort arrived, with a baggage wagon and an ambulance, aboard which were two contract surgeons, a young lieutenant, and his wife.
The lieutenant was George Washington Grummond, and he and his wife, Frances, who was pregnant, were the post’s most romantic couple. Grummond had served through the Civil War as officer of a Michigan Volunteer Infantry regiment. He met Frances in Tennessee and married her after the war’s end. Determined to pursue a military career, he applied for a regular commission, and as his war record was brilliant (he held a brevet rank of lieutenant-colonel) he was assigned to the 2nd Battalion as a second lieutenant.
In recording her arrival at Fort Phil Kearny, Frances Grummond told of seeing the picket on Pilot Hill signaling the approach of the mail party on the east road. “We moved toward the stockade,” she wrote, “but just before entering a halt was made, and I looked eagerly for the occasion of the delay. It almost took my breath away for a strange feeling of apprehension came over me. We had halted to give passage to a wagon, escorted by a guard from the wood train. … In the wagon was the scalped and naked body of one of their comrades. … My whole being seemed to be absorbed in the one desire—an agonized but unuttered cry, ‘Let me get within the gate!’… That strange feeling of apprehension never left me, enhanced as it was by my delicate condition. …” 15
Frances Grummond’s fears were not without prescience. Her husband was one of the three officers who would die in the Fetterman Massacre.
In the mail for Carrington was a letter from General Sherman, written at Fort Laramie where the general had visited near the end of August on a tour of western defense posts. “I shall instruct General Cooke to reinforce his force at this post,” Sherman wrote, “so that expeditions in sufficient strength can go out to punish the Indians. We want to avoid a general Indian war, as long as possible, until we get the new army further advanced in recruiting. The Indians seem to oppose the opening of the new road, but that must stimulate us to its prosecution, and you may rest assured that you will be supported all that is possible. … We must try and distinguish friendly from hostile and kill the latter, but if you or any other commanding officer strike a blow I will approve, for it seems impossible to tell the true from the false.”16
Carrington did not share Sherman’s philosophy of ruthless extermination, but agreed with his hope of avoiding a general war as long as possible, and was grateful for any support from a general who was second in command to Ulysses Grant.
The mail also contained a petulant message from General Cooke complaining about women and children being captured on the Montana Road, reports of which he had read in newspapers. As Carrington had seen no recent newspapers and had heard of no such incidents, he was puzzled as to what Cooke meant. An even more annoying letter, dated August 15, had been sent directly from The Adjutant General’s office in Washington. The A. G. complained that no returns of the post for June 1866 had been received—the reason for which should have been obvious had the Washington officials checked the date of the fort’s establishment, July 14.
Toward the close of this busy day a party of about forty miners arrived from the north. They had been unsuccessful in finding gold in Montana, and had decided to prospect the Big Horn country, but on the trail down from Virginia City hostile Indians had given them a bad time. Two men had been killed only the previous day near Tongue River.
Their leader, William Bailey, reported to Carrington, requesting permission to camp near the fort for protection for themselves and their horses. When the colonel learned that Bailey had been a scout and prospector in the West for seventeen years and that his followers were all of the same rugged mold—crack shots, well armed and well mounted—he suggested that the miners would be more than welcome to spend the winter, and would be given quartermaster employment if they wished it. The miners put the offer to a vote and accepted. By nightfall they had pitched their tents in front of the fort, just across Big Piney under a slope rising to the north, and Carrington had gained for the post the equal of a company of trained cavalrymen.
Accompanying Bailey’s party was a messenger from Fort C. F. Smith, with news of Jim Bridger. Old Gabe reported that he had talked with several Crows, who had informed him that at least five hundred lodges of Sioux were along the Tongue, all hostile, some armed with rifles. Bridger also had heard from the Crows of renegade white men among the Arapaho, squaw men and miners probably, who had allied themselves with the hostiles to drive other white men out of the gold country.
Carrington worked late that night over his lantern-lit writing table, while the season’s first snow whirled across the fort’s parade. The mail escort for Laramie was scheduled to leave at dawn, and the colonel had much to report to General Cooke:
Mail has arrived. I send directly back. Lt.-Gen. Sherman wrote me from Laramie to endeavor to keep you more frequently advised. I am doing all I can with my broken down and famished horses, not having received a pound of corn yet. … No women or children have been captured or injured by Indians in this district since I entered it. … While more troops are needed I can say (and I am in the very heart of the hostile district) that most of the newspaper reports are gross exaggerations. I gather and furnish you, as requested, all the bad news, neither coloring nor disguising facts.
He went on to tell of Bridger’s report, of the purchase of a few bushels of corn from a contractor, of the welcome arrival of sixty thousand rounds of Springfield ammunition. “I ought to have, if possible, a hundred thousand more, and from Laramie more ammunition for my 12-pounder field howitzer and mountain howitzers. … Red Cloud is known to command the parties now immediately engaged … they are determined to burn the country, cut off supplies, and hamper every movement.”17
Next morning when Frances Grummond awoke after her first night of unsound sleep in Fort Phil Kearny, she found that snow had drifted into her tent, “covered my face, and there melting trickled down my cheeks until if I had shed tears they would have been indistinguishable … pillows, bedding, and even the stove and the ground within the tent were also covered.”18
Almost a foot of feathery snow had fallen on the fort, but the sun was out bright and warm, and by afternoon most of it had melted. The Indians kept to their lodges this day, and Captain Ten Eyck chose the peaceful interlude for a post arms inspection. His report to Carrington was blunt: “Many Springfield rifles unserviceable. Some men not armed at all, because of thefts by deserters and others. Want pistols and carbines, as rifles no good for mounted men.”19
With most of the snow gone by Wednesday (the 19th) the hostiles came back just after breakfast, as Peter Damme was marching the regimental band out on parade. Their objective was the open camp of Bailey’s miners across the Piney. Frances Grummond watched the incident from inside the stockade; it was her first experience of hostile Indian attack and she described it vividly.
“Quite a large body of Indians suddenly appeared at the summit of the hill in full warpaint, brandishing their spears, giving loud yells and lifting their blankets high in the air as they moved down slowly in an attempted charge upon the miners’ camp. Between one and two hundred Indians were scattered along the crest of that hill, but hardly three minutes had elapsed after they first came in view before the smoke and crack of the miners’ rifles, out from the cottonwood brush that lined the bank of the creek, had emptied half a dozen warriors’ seats and brought down three times as many ponies, while the cheers of the miners and their perfect confidence in defending their camp were enlivened by the music of the 18th Band which Colonel Carrington had play on the parade ground, while the whole garrison was under arms ready for a fight, and three howitzers were ready to open
their fire in case of need. A small detachment had been sent to support the miners …”20
Colonel Carrington, having grown accustomed to these monotonous raids, reported the same incident much more succinctly. “A large force attacked the miners encamped across Big Piney. … A shell from the fort scattered them; no stock was lost; miners pursued several hours in view.”21
The next day’s report was equally brief: “Indians attacked citizen train lying in angle of two Pineys, repulsed by aid from fort, losing one red man killed and another wounded.”22
But on the 21st he was sufficiently concerned by another heavy attack upon Levi Carter’s hay mowers to order the party to cease operations. Melting snow and rain showers had almost halted cutting already, and the colonel sent one of his new officers, Lieutenant Winfield Scott Matson, out with forty men to assist in bringing in all hay and equipment.
That Carrington was more alarmed over continuous Indian raids than his sparse reports indicate is revealed in a special order issued that same day:
The fastenings of all gates must be finished this day; the locks for large gates will be similar, and the district commander, post commander, officer of the day, and quartermaster will alone have keys. Keys for the wicket gates will be with the same officers.
Upon a general alarm or appearance of Indians in force or near the gates, the same will be closed, and no soldier or civilian will leave the fort without orders.
No large gate will be opened, except the quartermaster gate, unless it shall be necessary for wagons. Stock must invariably pass in and out of that gate.
The west or officers’ gate will not be opened without permission, even for wagons, unless for timber wagons or ambulances, or mounted men.
Upon a general alarm the employees in the sutlers’ department will form at the store and wait for orders and assignment to some part of the interior defense, but will not be expected to act without the fort unless voluntarily, and then after sanction is given, and under strict military control.
All soldiers, however detailed or attached, or in whatever capacity serving, will, upon a general alarm, take arms and be subject to immediate disposal with their companies or at the headquarters or department with which serving.
All horses of mounted men will be saddled at reveille.
It is also expressly enjoined that in no case shall there be needless running in haste upon an alarm. Shouting, tale-bearing, and gross perversion of facts by excited men does more mischief than Indians. And the duty of guards being to advise of danger, soldiers who have information must report to the proper officer, and not to comrades.
At the sounding of assembly the troops of the garrison not on daily duty will form in front of their respective quarters.
The general alarm referred to in foregoing paragraph will be indicated by the sounding of the assembly, followed by three quick shots from the guard-house, which latter will be the distinction between the general alarm and the simple alarm for turning out the troops of the garrison.
This order will be placed upon a bulletin-board for early and general information.
Officers and non-commissioned officers are charged with its execution, and the soldiers of the 18th Infantry are especially called upon to vindicate and maintain, as they ever have, the record of their regiment.
This will require much hard work, much guard duty, and much patience, but they will have an honorable field to occupy in this country, and both Indian outrages and approaching winter stimulate them to work, and work with zeal and tireless industry.
Their colonel will with his officers share all, and no idling or indifference can, under these circumstances, have any quarters in the breast of a true soldier.23
Since early August the women of the fort had been virtual prisoners within the 400-foot-square stockade. From now on the same situation would apply to soldiers and civilian employees. In reference to these regulations Frank Fessenden said that “orders were given that none of our men should ever go out of the fort alone. … The chaplain bought a cow for which he paid $75. He told me if I would milk her I could have all the milk that was left after he was served. I remember how I used to arm myself and go out hunting after that cow. I presume the Indians also wanted her for they eventually got her anyhow. Orders finally became so strict that I did not dare go outside the stockade.”24
Meanwhile, Lieutenant Matson’s detachment and the hay-field workers were having a difficult time withdrawing machinery and wagons from the Goose Creek flats. A force of three hundred Sioux and Arapaho forced them to corral five miles from the fort, pinning them down until Carrington sent out a mounted relief Saturday morning. During the fluid action of the Indians’ withdrawal, Matson was suddenly confronted by a horseman on the road, a white man dressed like an Indian, the fingers missing from one of his hands. He identified himself as Captain Bob North, but Matson, remembering rumors of white men fighting with the Arapahos, was suspicious. A few minutes later Matson’s advance scouts reported that a contractor’s train returning from Fort C. F. Smith had also been attacked on the road. The contractor, Grull, and two of his drivers had been killed. During the ensuing excitement, the mysterious “Captain North” disappeared.
The mystery of Captain North may or may not have been solved the next day. In the gray dawn of Sunday, under cover of a rainstorm, a raiding party struck at a civilian cattle herd. They dashed among the grazing animals, yelling and waving blankets and buffalo hides, stampeding almost a hundred. This time there was no delay in pursuing. In accordance with Carrington’s order of the 21st, horses had been saddled at reveille, and before the raiders could head away, a small detachment under Lieutenant Brown dashed out the east gate of the quartermaster’s corral. Fifteen miners joined Brown’s galloping pursuit force, and after a ten-mile chase they overtook the Indians. For a few minutes the Indians tried hard to keep their stolen cattle, but Brown dismounted his men and went into quick skirmish formation.
The hostiles grouped for a charge, and as they thundered down upon the soldiers, the men were startled to recognize the leader as a white man. Two or three times the Indians charged, each time led by the white man swearing in English, but in each attack they were driven back, several warriors dropping from their ponies. In the last charge, the white leader went down; an Indian swept him up and carried him off the field, apparently dead.
Was he the same man Lieutenant Matson had met Saturday on the road, the mysterious Captain Bob North, the renegade mountain man with four missing fingers?
In his official report Colonel Carrington assumed he was. “Lieutenant Brown and a few men charged the Indians with revolvers, killing five Indians and one white man, I think Bob North, who led them in every case, and wounding sixteen.”25 (If the renegade was North, he survived only to die three years later in Kansas by hanging.)
Carrington also considered this fight his first real victory over the hostiles:
One of our party was wounded slightly with an arrow, which grazed the temple, and six of our horses were wounded by revolvers and rifle shots. All were brought from the field. One chief carried from the field by his men wore an elaborate feather head-dress and proper ornament of the same kind upon his person. They retired to a high hill silently, and without their usual bravado. They felt the blow. Every head of stock was rescued and brought back to the fort. It has inspired my men with new courage. … One week’s feeding on corn has given new life also to my horses. …
Carrington’s claim that the hostiles “felt the blow” in the wounding or death of at least two leaders is supported by the fact that they made no demonstrations around the fort during the next three days.
This breathing spell gave Carrington an opportunity to collect his thoughts and compose two leisurely letters to General Cooke, discussing the flora and fauna, the climate and minerals, of the surrounding country.
Coal abounds in exhaustless supply. I have recently opened a vein of cannel-coal, that will weld iron within fifty feet of the quarterma
ster’s corral, east of the fort. … Late in the season as it is now, while the cottonwood is yellow from frost, the hills and slopes bear innumerable patches of green shrubs, marking the work of the last lingering snows of spring and the abounding springs which are everywhere found … . The pine timber has furnished novel results: the trees of one mountain have been girdled by fire apparently two years since. The boards from these take the plane and polish equal to No. 1 merchantable seasoned pine lumber. The pitch has dried out, the grain is close, and the material is sound. Shingles that are rived from it furnish bolts three feet in diameter and of the best quality. …
Altitude of the post I find to be 5,790 feet by barometer. … The mountain range nearest rises abruptly from 850 to 900 feet more. … It has rained at the post when snow was falling within two miles … and again we have had snow when on the creek, 160 feet below, there was rain.
He also discussed the progress of the fort’s construction and the morale of his men:
I have changed company buildings to 84 feet in length, kitchen in rear. This will allow four buildings each side, and these four will be roofed this week. A large commissary building with plank floor and good roof will be equally advanced.
Everything moves well; the men cheerfully come off guard and go to work and respond to alarm instantly and eagerly by night and day. Sickness is almost unknown. Sometimes one, and often none, at sick-call. Antiscorbutics arrived in good time, as scurvy began to appear. I trust fresh potatoes will be sent us on my April requisition. I shall have a cellar ready.26