by Texas
The final battle that Reed envisaged did not occur, for a daring move by jaxifer cut the Indian force in half, with disastrous consequences for the Comanche. Reed, suddenly aware that his portion of the force faced only a segment of Matarks men, made a frenzied attack at four in the morning, encircling Matarks camp, killing many of its inhabitants, and taking the great chief captive.
At the same time, Jaxifer invested the other half, and although many escaped his net, he did capture some three dozen, including Peavine and the four white girls he was protecting. With tears of joy, the Rattlesnake told his captors of how he had been a peaceful rancher in the vicinity of Fort Griffin and of how Matark's men, damn them, had overrun the place and taken his four granddaughters captive, and while the cavalrymen were celebrating and giving the girls attention, he made his quiet escape with three of their best horses.
When Reed learned that Jaxifer had also been successful, he dispatched a scout to inform Mackenzie of his unqualified success, including the rescue of the four white girls, but it was not till after the horsemen had ridden north that he began interrogating his black troops about the details of their splendid victory, and heard about the elderly white man who had delivered the girls.
'You mean,' he asked with a sick feeling, 'that the old man had a withered left arm?'
'Yes, he did.'
Knowing what his next answer would be, he asked the girls: 'Did the old man bring guns for the Indians?' and when they said that he had, but that he had also been extremely protective of them, he asked: 'Did the Indians call him Little Cripple?' and when they nodded, he jumped up and began kicking a saddle.
'Good God! Sergeant Jaxifer, you had Rattlesnake Peavine in your hands and you let him go!' And right there the Fort Garner detachment, all hundred of them, and the four girls entered into a compact: 'We need tell no one about Amos Peavine. Girls, he saved your lives, didn't he? So keep quiet about him. Men, do you want the rest of the army laughing at you? Say nothing.'
He himself did not feel obligated to report more than the bare
facts: 'Sergeant Jaxifer and his well-disciplined detachment of Tenth Cavalry routed the other half of Matark's force, and in doing so, gallantly rescued four white girls who had been held prisoner by the Comanche.'
Matark was taken, as the Peace Policy required, to Camp 1 lope, where he was turned over to new Quakers who had replaced the unfortunate Earnshaw Rusk. He was then moved to a remote reservation in Florida, from which he launched a barrage of appeals. Two Quaker agents new to the frontier lodged a thoughtful appeal for clemency on the grounds that Chief Matark was at heart a well-intentioned man caught up in the tragedy of a war of extermination.
President Grant was touched by this reasoning, and remembering with what high hopes he had launched his Indian policy, told an aide: 'What does that fellow Rusk from Pennsylvania say about Matark?' and when Earnshaw was invited to make a report, he reflected on all he knew about Matark, and then he prayed After two days of soul-searching he drafted this response:
I have known Matark for many years. He is a savage striving to find his way in a new civilization governed by new rules which he cannot comprehend. I believe I know even.' evil thing he has done, and I condemn him for his barbarities. But I assure thee, Mr President, that except for torture, which can never be forgiven, he has committed no act more reprehensible than what the United States Army committed against him and his people. His tragedy was that he was never given the option of accepting a consistent Peace Policy offered in good faith by the American government, and to punish him now for fighting according to rules established by our side is deplorable
I have searched my heart to determine what is justice in this affair, and I find I must beg thee to commute his sentence He is, like thee, an honorable warrior. Allow him to return to his people and to the lands he used to roam.
He was pardoned, with the stern admonition: 'If you ever set foot in Texas, you will be shot on sight,' to which he replied with humility: 'I no want Texas.'
Because the temptation to reinvade Texas might prove irresistible if he was lodged at Camp Hope, from where the traditional hunting grounds would be visible each dawn, he was moved to another section of the Indian Territory, and there a woman reporter for a Texas newspaper found him after peace had been established on the plains:
Chief Matark can be considered, with much reason, one of the last Indians who warred in Texas. Of all the hundreds of thousands who terrorized our ranches, he was the last, and when I found him sitting peacefully beside an arroyo on his reservation, I asked him what his lasting memories were of our state, and he said: 'Texas, that was the best.'
Two weeks after this interview was published in the Texas papers, Matark quietly disappeared from the reservation, and the Quaker in charge of the area announced: 'He knew he was dying and went, as is the custom of his people, to some lonely spot where he could rejoin the Great Spirit.'
He had actually gone west across the border into New Mexico in response to a smuggled appeal from Amos Peavine, and there he had joined forces with his old comrade, robbing stagecoaches and caravans headed for California. Numerous agitated reports reached Santa Fe and Tucson of this murderous duo who appeared suddenly at the bend of a road: 'There was this old man with a withered left arm, this big Indian who said nothing. They took everything.'
There were also reports, more ominous, of what happened when the travelers had tried to resist: "The white man was so quick on the trigger, he shot two of our men before anyone knew what was happening.'
The depredations became so offensive that posses were organized both in New Mexico and Arizona, and on a blazingly hot August afternoon in the latter state, a gun battle erupted, and when it ended Chief Matark of the Comanche, not yet fifty years old, lay dead on the burning sand. What happened to Amos Peavine was less certain; said the coroner in reporting his inquest: 'He was last seen headed north, trailing blood. Considering the land into which he disappeared, he must be listed as dead.'
NOW CAME ONE OF THE CURIOSITIES OF TEXAS HISTORY. THE
Comanche threat having been contained, there was no further use for a frontier post like Fort Sam Garner, and so one day in October 1874, George Reed, who had built it of mud back in 1869 and converted it to stone by 1871, received curt instructions from Lewis Renfro in Washington:
Capt. George Reed, Co. T, 14th Infantry, Commanding Officer Fort Garner, Texas.
You will proceed immediately to the abandonment of Fort Garner on Bear Creek, dismantling such buildings as can be torn down and return-
mg tlic land to its civilian owners without any obligation on our part to restore its original condition or make compensation
Obedient to the orders, Reed assembled his men and informed them that the two companies of the 10th Cavalry would be reassigned to Colonel Mackenzie at Fort Sill, while the two companies of the 14th Infantry under Captain Wetzel would remain at Port Garner to decommission the post.
On a bright morning the two young officers who had replaced johnny Minor—'lost his left leg in the battle at Three Cairns'-and Jim Logan—'dead from the shooting at the tank'—flashed hand signals to John Jaxifer, who blew his whistle and headed lus Negro cavalry back toward jacksborough.
As jaxifer left the parade ground for the last tune, Wetzel stopped him to say, with grudging admiration: 'You were first class, jaxifer. Your men? They're beginning to learn.' jaxifer looked back to review his men: saddles polished, boots pipe-clayed, brass gleaming, faces smiling. He was proud of these dark men, for lie knew that rarely had a military unit performed more bravely, more consistently, and with so little recognition.
When they vanished in dust, Wetzel's infantrymen began the task of emptying the buildings, loading the wagons, and demolishing the few wooden structures. The stout stone buildings they did not touch, for these were now the property of an unusual owner who gave every intention of occupying them far into the future-After careful investigation, Reed had satisfied himself that the legal arrangem
ent which his wife had finally engineered in favor of Emma Larkin still prevailed: 'If 1 understand you, judge, the land on which Fort Garner stands reverts to the Larkin girl.'
'It does, and she owns the six thousand other acres we awarded her.'
'Then by Texas law she gets all the buildings we erected?' 'She does. You know that in Texas, the federal government does not own public lands.'
In a quiet ceremony at the fort, which the judge attended. Reed turned the property over to Emma. 'You've been a brave-woman. You've earned this land. Occupy it in honor.' He kissed her, as did Wetzel, but the judge whispered to Sanders: 'Small reward. The buildings arc worth nothing. The land, maybe ten cents an acre.'
While the men were still dismantling the fort, a general of extraordinary charm sent notice that he intended visiting the fort with the next wagon train, and preparations were made in the diminished quarters to receive him properly. 'What can we do?'
Mrs. Reed protested. Things half packed. He'll think we're slovens.'
When the general arrived, a big, fleshy man with European manners, he put the wives at ease: 'My wife and I were warned that you were closing down. That's why we hurried.' And from his wagon he produced hampers of food, enough for all the troops.
He was General Yancey Quimper, sixty-two years old, hero not only of San Jacinto but now of Monterrey as well, and as always, a soldier whose first thought was for the welfare of his men: 'Feed the troops, Captain Reed, and while they feast let me explain why we've come so far to pay you honor.'
He personally broke open the hampers of beef and duck, arranging a separate table for the four black cavalrymen left behind as guards, and while they toasted him in beer from the two barrels he provided, he told the Reeds and the Wetzels: This gracious lady who stands at my side is none other than the widow of Captain Sam Garner, for whom your fort was named. And those two fine men slicing the beef were Garner's sons. They're mine now, for I adopted them, and they bear the name of Quimper.' He said this grandiloquently, as if by taking away the honorable name of Garner and bestowing upon them the dubious one of Quimper, he had somehow conferred dignity.
'And that stalwart opening the beer keg is my birth-son James, who merits congratulations, for last week he became a father.'
Mrs. Quimper, a gracious lady who said little, leaving explanations to her voluble husband, did slip in a word: The general thought it would be proper for us to pay our respects to the fort before it was abandoned,' and her husband broke in: 'I'll wager you've seen a lot of action here.' His lively hands imitated the thrust and parry of cavalry actions.
He made a favorable impression on Wetzel, who said at the conclusion of Quimper's explanation of how his troops had managed the two mountains at Monterrey: 'General, you have a better understanding of uphill attack than anyone I've met in America,' to which Quimper replied: 'It comes from study . . . and experience.' He also explained how the Texas troops had managed to hold the lunette at Vicksburg, 'which was a very ugly show, I can tell you.'
Mrs. Reed, who followed military conversations closely, realized that Quimper never claimed that he had actually been at either Monterrey or Vicksburg, and she was about to query this point when the general delighted everyone by announcing that he had brought a surprise for 'the commanding officer of our Garner fort,'
and after a signal to one of his sons, a large package was brought in and delivered to Reed.
'Open it, sir!' Quimpcr cried. 'Open it so we can sec 1 ' And when Reed did, out came a pair of glistening military hoots, fawn-colored and decorated with embossed eagles, swords and the word texas in silver.
'They're genuine Quimpers,' Yancey said. 'Fightin' boots for fightin' men, and it's a privilege to deliver them to the commander of our fort.'
'But how did you get my size?'
'Ah-ha! Did you by chance miss a pair of your old army b<
Reed looked at his wife, who shrugged her shoulders 'Don't stare at her,' Yancey bellowed. 'It was him,' and he pointed at Wetzel, who confessed that five months ago he had purloined the boots in order to make this happy occasion possible.
On the next day Quimpcr disclosed his purpose in coining so far: he asked to see the girl Emma Larkin, and when she was produced he spoke directly: 'I should like to purchase the land which the courts have awarded you.'
'The courts awarded me nothing,' Emma said, staring at him. 'I've always owned it. My parents patented it in 1869.'
'Yes, but since you were a minor and an orphan, the courts . . .'
'They gave me nothing,' she repeated, and it was obvious that Quimpcr was not going to have an easy time with this young woman.
'You have six thousand acres, mas o menos as we say m Old Mexico, more or less.'
'Why would you wish to buy?'
'We have a saying: "If you acquire enough land in Texas, something good will surely happen." With the money I give you, you can live easily, in town somewhere.' He explained that he was prepared to offer ten cents an acre, slightly above the going rate: That would mean six hundred dollars, and you could do wonders with six hundred dollars.'
When she said no, he raised his bid to twelve cents, and when she still refused, he said: 'Because of the heroism of your family, twelve and a half cents. That's seven hundred fifty dollars, a princely sum for a young girl like you.' But as the evening closed. she was still refusing.
When she returned to the Wetzel quarters, the others argued with her, telling her that with $750 she could buy a good house-in Jacksborough and learn to sew or help in other ways. It never
occurred to them or her that she might one day marry, or even have children. She would always be a homeless waif, and they wished for her own good to see her settled: 'We'll be leaving in a few days, you know. You certainly can't live alone in a great empty fort like this, even if you do own it.' But she would not consent.
In the morning the Quimpers, the Wetzels and the Reeds combined to try to make her see the advisability of accepting the general's offer, but she rebuffed them: 'This is the land my father settled. My whole family paid a terrible price for it. I paid a terrible price. And I will not surrender it, not even if I have to live here with coyotes.'
Nothing could be said to dislodge her, and she was dismissed, as if she were seven instead of seventeen.
When she was gone, Reed asked Quimper if he would like to see the fort as it had functioned in its glory years, and when Yancey said with pomp: 'I would appreciate seeing how our fort operated,' off they went, taking the Quimper sons with them.
Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Wetzel were left to entertain Mrs. Quimper, and this was a pleasing arrangement, for it gave the fort women a chance to clarify certain obscurities. Louise Reed started the questions: 'I wasn't aware that your husband had been at Monterrey, your present husband, that is.'
Bertha Wetzel broke in: 'Of course we knew about your first husband, a great hero. We had a pamphlet to educate the troops about the man for whom their fort was named.'
Mrs. Quimper was eager to talk once more with military wives who understood the intricacies of a soldier's life: 'When General Quimper married me, and I was most gratified to find a man so gentle and so helpful. . . You've seen my first two sons. They were on their way to becoming little ruffians when he stepped in to make men of them. I'll be forever grateful.'
'You were saying that when you married . . .' Mrs. Reed rarely allowed a visitor to leave a thought unfinished.
'Looking back, I can now see that he was a big, formless man with no character. But when he married me he found himself with a ready-made character, my husband's. He began to dress like him, speak like him. He stood straighter, learned military talk. He took my sons and gave them his name. And soon he was talking incessantly about Sam Garner's exploits at Monterrey. But soon it was "our exploits," and before long, "my exploits." One night I heard him explain to a group of generals how he had charged the Bishop's Palace atop that Monterrey hill. He had also been very brave at Vicksburg. He adopted me, and my sons, and my dead
husband's military career.' She held her palms up and smile he is now both my first husband and my second '
'But he did this from a solid foundation/ Mrs Re< 'San Jacinto and all.'
Mrs. Quimper laughed: 'Right after the battle, m told me about Quimper and his capture of Santa Anna The Mexican was hiding in the bushes. His ragged clothing Yancey think he was a mere peon, but they took him in and onlv later learned who he was.'
'With such behavior,' Mrs. Wetzel asked, 'how did he become a general?'
'Very simple. One day he announced to the world: "I am a general," and Texas was so hungry for heroes, they allowed him to be a general.'
Mrs. Reed poured Mrs. Quimper a second cup of tea, thei very quietly: 'Have you heard about Lewis Renfro's heroic rescue of that young woman you just saw, the Larkin girl 7 '
'Everybody's heard. Texas papers were filled with little else.'
'The same.'
Mrs. Quimper looked first at Mrs. Reed, who was smiling, then at Mrs. Wetzel, who was laughing outright, and their humor was so infectious that she had to smile, even though she did not understand the reason. 'You mean'—she fumbled for a word that would not be too condemnatory of her husband—'that he was also a gentle fraud?'
Now Mrs. Wetzel could not contain herself: 'This wonderful colored soldier, no neck, could fight anyone. He rescued Emma Larkin from six Comanche.' She collapsed in laughter
'Yes,' Mrs. Reed said. 'Our very brave cavalry sergeant did just that.'
Mrs. Wetzel told the rest: 'So then our hero, Lewis Renfro, Commander in Chief of Desk Forces, he rides up, recognizes the girl, grabs her, and grabs the glory.'
The three women chuckled at the follies of the self-appointed heroes whose antics they had observed, and when Mrs. W'et/.el began to gasp for air, the other two broke into very unladvlike guffaws.