In 1829, he was recalled to Militia duty as head of the Saline Rangers to help control an Osage uprising. By 1834, he was no longer in politics, and a justice of the peace position had also expired. In 1835, Becknell uprooted his family and joined the Anglo settlement of Texas, establishing a new home south of the Red River. During the rebellion of Texas against Santa Anna, Becknell served as captain of the Red River volunteers but was not with Houston at San Jacinto.
Becknell remained in Texas until his death April 25, 1856, at age sixty-eight. His grave is marked with a large gray granite stone approximately five miles west of Clarksville, Texas, on U.S. Highway 82, in a cattle pasture.
It is interesting to note that although he can rightly be termed the Father of the Santa Fe Trail, William Becknell was not a major player after the first three years. His trapping expedition demonstrates that he either was not comfortable as a merchant-trader or with the significant risks the trade represented. He may not have felt competent to engage in activities against more educated or experienced merchants such as the likes of Saint Vrain, the Bent brothers, or the Waldo family. More likely, he decided it was easier to remain home as a farmer and politician with his family and enjoy the fruits of his success. Yet, as with many other frontiersmen, the lure of Texas in the heady days of 1835 probably drew him toward just one more great adventure and conflict. After the Texas Rebellion and nearing age fifty, the days of courting adventure and risks, were largely over for William Becknell.
Chapter 3
McKnight-James Santa Fe Expedition of 1821
While William Becknell blazed the Santa Fe Trail, another group of men attempted an alternative route. It was a journey that almost ended in disaster.
For several years, while Mexico was under the direct control of Spain, foreigners were prevented from engaging in a potentially profitable trade with Santa Fe. Usually enterprising individuals that did enter Santa Fe without official Spanish permission, had their goods confiscated and were sentenced to long prison terms. In 1812, Robert McKnight, of the St. Louis firm McKnight & Brady, attempted such a venture with eight companions and vanished.
Eight years later, several men returned to St. Louis stating that they had been held in Spanish prisons for running the trade blockade. Three of the men had been members of the McKnight expedition. John McKnight, senior partner of McKnight & Brady and younger brother of Robert, was informed that his brother was still alive and being held prisoner in the interior of Mexico. McKnight resolved to gain official Spanish permission to go to Santa Fe and retrieve his brother. In order to have a company of men to support him on the journey, he provided a letter of credit to Thomas James, a nearly bankrupt merchant who had done business with the firm for several seasons. James obtained $10,000 worth of trade goods and assembled a group of men to accompany them. Members of the group were James’ brother John, David Kirkee, William Sheared, Alexander Howard, Benjamin Potter and John Ivy. A Spaniard, Francois Macsaw, was recruited to act as an interpreter. James also procured a passport for the Spanish Minister, Don Onis, countersigned by Secretary of State, John Quincy Adams.
On May 10, 1821, the group left St. Louis on a keelboat and descended the Mississippi to the mouth of the Arkansas. The plan was to follow the plains river chain that laced the area to a point as near as possible to Santa Fe then proceed overland for the remainder of the journey. No established route to Santa Fe existed at that time. William Becknell’s overland trail following the Arkansas River and later to become the Santa Fe Trail, was being blazed at the same time. The McKnight-James route looks good on paper but is not nearly as direct and demands a cargo shift from keelboat to wagon or pack train. This route also took traders through the heart of Comanche Territory, a more dangerous option than the much less inhabited plains farther north.
Frederick Hector, an acquaintance of James, joined the group at the mouth of the Ohio River. Later, as the group worked their way up the Arkansas, James Wilson became the eleventh and final member of the venture. At Arkansas Post, a French settlement, a wealthy merchant named Veaugean informed the group that hostile Comanche had attacked his son on a hunting trip. Several Quawpaw Indian companions had been killed during the raid. This news was surprising for the group because they were under the impression that all Indians along the route were friendly.
The group proceeded up the Arkansas past Little Rock to the Cimarron River. Passing the Cimarron the group labored thirty miles upstream until shallow water prevented any further advance in the keelboat. McKnight, the James brothers and Macsaw then went to a nearby Osage village to trade for ponies.
While at the village the men met a hunter named Hugh Glenn and twenty companions who were already trading with the Indians. Glenn refused an invitation to join the McKnight group and caused some resentfulness by his actions. McKnight and James purchased twenty-three ponies, returned to the keelboat and packed the lighter trade goods. The heavier items were cached (buried in the earth) until a local trader named Barbour could retrieve the goods for transfer to a nearby trading post. A white man living with the Osage named Prior then guided the pack caravan up the south shore of the Arkansas and struck overland to the Cimarron River.
The group eventually reached an area known as the Shining Mountains and Salt Plains where Prior left the party. It was a bleak place filled with almost impenetrable sand dunes, salt marshes and brackish pools. The entire area was void of timber and so laced with salt deposits that the men could knock off hunks of the substance with their knives and hatchets. The men found and hunted buffalo in abundance. They left trash in the form of old shoes and small articles as they jerked buffalo meat for food. A Comanche party was attracted to the area by buzzards circling the buffalo carcasses after the party had gone on.
Two days later a hundred Comanche warriors attempted to route the party’s horses. James showed a United States flag and turned the Indians away from the horses toward the traders’ camp. The Indians immediately demanded tribute. James distributed several thousand dollars worth of goods among the warriors. Two chiefs were present. A one-eyed individual led a faction that wanted to kill the traders immediately. He accused McKnight’s band of being Osage spies because of the ponies that were packing the goods. The second chief, who seemed in control of the majority, managed to override One-eye. One-eye and his followers left. The other chief left a Mexican Indian to act as interpreter and guide.
The group left the Cimarron for the North Fork of the Canadian, suffering greatly from thirst and contaminated water. Eventually they reached a large swamp, about two miles wide and six miles long containing thousands of buffalo. They then reached the Canadian and proceeded up its course for two days. Another large group of mounted Indians invited the traders to visit their camp. While McKnight’s group was talking with the chief, one of the Indians stole a brass kettle and rode off with it. The act alarmed James who asked the chief whether he could protect the traders’ property if they left the group to visit. When the chief said that he could not, McKnight and James declined but asked for a small number of trusty braves to help guard the goods. The following morning they advanced two miles to a village of a thousand lodges.
A small older chief approached McKnight and James demanding more gifts. James handed out tobacco, powder, lead, vermilion, calico and other articles in large quantities. Not satisfied, the Indians broke into his bales of cloth and fine woolens. After considerable losses, James was able to convince the Indians to stop.
The traders were then approached by Big Star, a major chief who divided the goods among all the Indians. James gave the chief a sword as a token of friendship. They then smoked together and prepared to leave. The Indians forbade the departure and compelled the traders to stay over night. Close guard was maintained throughout the night as the traders tried to protect their goods. The following day another group of Indians demanded gifts by way of a one-eyed Spaniard who received a suit of clothes and ammunition as payment. The Indians again helped themselves to more goods, their numb
ers being so great that McKnight’s people were powerless to prevent the looting. The group again requested permission to depart and were again denied.
On the third day, One-Eye returned with a hundred riders. He had been waiting to spring an ambush and was angry that the whites were still at the camp. The interpreter, Macsaw, came to James saying that he believed that the entire group would soon be killed. Women and children could be seen running from their lodges. Big Star came to escort the traders to the protection of his tipi saying that they would be killed if they stayed in the open. One-Eye approached the group with his warriors in black war paint and demanded the sword that James had given Big Star. Big Star asked what One-Eye would accept in place of the traders’ lives. He replied that he must have for each of his men as much cloth as his outstretched arms would once measure; an equal quantity of calico, powder, lead, vermilion, knives, beads, looking glasses, and the sword. One-Eye stated that he did not believe that the sword was a gift and that he would have it or James’ scalp. Big Star returned the sword to James, instructing him to send it to One-Eye. He stated that it was the only way to save the traders’ lives. James gave out five hundred yards of fancy cloth and calico, of which the former had cost seven dollars per yard in Baltimore. One-Eye seemed satisfied so James again tried to gain permission to leave. He was told that the entire village would be leaving in the morning and that the traders might as well leave with them.
McKnight and James’s brigade spent a restless third night in the camp. Toward sunrise a group of boys began stoning them and were driven off by the friendly chief. Six of the horses were stolen as well. Just after sunrise, fifty of the chiefs and older warriors went to a high mound that adjoined the camp and held a council. Younger braves and boys were driven away from the meeting. The two friendly chiefs did not attend. The brigade members reasoned that their fate was about to be decided. During the council the women were striking the lodges, a clear sign that something was afoot with the Indians. Men were assembling about the traders armed with guns, bows and lances. After an hour, the council descended. Indians that had been friendly became sulky and distant. None of the Comanche would answer when questioned. Friendly and Big Star came and shook hands, bidding the men farewell. When asked to stay with the traders they shook their heads sorrowfully and walked away without any further comment. Warriors were beginning to press in on the group from all sides.
The brigade formed a circle with backs to the goods and saddles heaped in the middle, flintlocks primed and ready for defense. Knives and tomahawks were gathered for a last stand defense after the rifles were fired. James Wilson seized an ax, having no gun, and swore that he would “hew his way as far as possible.” Tom James, John James and John McKnight stood together. McKnight was pale, his chin and lips quivering. John James’ face was grim with determination. The men, having accepted the fact that they would soon be massacred had overcome fear and were determined to take as many of the enemy with them as possible.
The brigade stood for a half-hour in a determined face-off, the Indians seemingly reluctant to make the first move. A chief dressed in a whole white bear skin rode with lance in hand through the crowd to the men. He stopped within five feet and stared at Tom James with deadly malignity. He drew a pistol, examined the priming, tossed out the old powder and replaced it with fresh. However, he kept his pistol down when he noticed James slowly pointing a rifle at him.
The standoff continued. The chiefs were reluctant to make the first move realizing that they would probably be the first to go down in a fight. However, for them to retire and order the attack from the rear would have been a disgrace. As long as the whites held their ground and the chiefs did not withdraw, the sides were forced into a tension-filled stalemate.
Finally John McKnight stated softly to James that he couldn’t stand much more. He suggested that even though James would be the first to fall, he would kill the chief next in revenge. Tom James counseled patience saying that it was up to the Indians to make the first move. To begin the massacre would be folly. It was better to wait and sell their lives as dearly as possible. Until then they were better off standing their ground.
Suddenly, Kirker raised his gun over his head, gave it up and passed into the confused crowd of Comanche unmolested. Cries of “Tabbaho! Tabbaho!” were heard in the distance before the men could take action. At first the group believed that the Indians were assaulting Kirker out of their sight.
Six horsemen led by a Spanish officer forced themselves through the crowd toward the brigade. When the Spaniard saw that the whites were still alive he rushed to their sides and thanked God that they were still alive. He explained that he had learned of the situation by accident early that morning and had ridden twenty miles to attempt to prevent bloodshed. He further explained that the Spanish governor of Santa Fe had instructed the Comanche to not allow any Americans to pass. Since the brigade had seemed determined to continue on, the Indians had decided to kill them to obey the governor’s command. The Spaniard then went on to explain to all that the Spanish had been overthrown, that Mexico was independent and the American traders were now welcome.
The Indians retired in confused silence. The two friendly chiefs returned and expressed happiness that the Americans would not be killed. With what few items and horses the group had managed to save and recover, most of the brigade left the camp as soon as possible, unmolested. James, Macsaw and two Spanish soldiers remained behind for a while in an attempt to recover a few more horses.
When they joined their companions the following day, they met an old chief named Cordaro who had been instrumental in saving them. He had made a promise to protect whites and, when he had learned of the brigade’s situation, had gone to the Spanish officer for help. Cordaro then warned the brigade members that they would surely be imprisoned if they continued to Santa Fe. Spanish officers then explained that there was no worry as the Americans were now welcome to trade with the Mexicans.
On December 1, the McKnight-James party entered Santa Fe with what was left of their goods. Losses were so great that the men sustained a substantial loss on their investment in spite of getting high prices for what goods they sold. It was a far different result from the Becknell party that had entered the town two weeks earlier and had reaped tremendous profits, estimates ranging between 900% and 3000%.
McKnight found his brother living in Durango and was able to convince him to return. The quarrelsome James had his troubles while in Santa Fe but eventually left the town June 1, 1822, in company with the McKnights “perfectly content never to repeat my visit to it or any other part of the country.”
Chapter 4
Jornada Crossing
Jedediah Smith
By almost any standard, Jedediah Smith, not John C. Fremont, should be remembered as the West’s great “Pathfinder.” Yet, perhaps the irony of history, or perhaps simply his bad luck defeated one of the West’s greatest explorers when he encountered a 60-mile stretch of the Cimarron Cut-off of the Santa Fe Trail.
May, 27, 1831. A lone figure slowly made his way across the barren plains of what was to eventually become southwestern Kansas. A virtually featureless landscape, dotted with occasional choya, cactus or sagebrush to break the monotony of short-cropped buffalo grass that stretched from horizon to horizon, loomed before him. Only a harsh sun and the nearly constant wind from the south kept company. His mount groaned from the weight of its burden and the nagging thirst for water that had not been satisfied for nearly three days. The animal moved slowly, its head held low from the effects of fatigue. The man gazed toward the broken features of a riverbed that had cut a twisted path through an unfamiliar and unforgiving wilderness.
He had chosen to follow one of hundreds of meandering buffalo traces that etched aimless patterns through an otherwise unmarked desert. When he was certain that the trail led to a river valley, he sent his companion, Fitzpatrick, back to guide the caravan in the proper direction while he went on ahead to find a spring.
He was a
man who would be considered today as youthful, only 32 years of age. His body bore the scars of a man who had lived a hard and demanding life of suffering and danger. His hawkish features were marred with deep scars running above his left eye toward a ragged scalp of black hair arranged in such a fashion to cover a badly twisted and disfigured right ear. They were features of such infirmity that men were said to give pause upon viewing them. The scarring was the result of a grizzly attack and the primitive efforts of fellow mountain man, Jim Clyman, to sew the badly mangled results into some semblance of what they once were.
He was dressed in the fashion of the day, a heavy plains rifle, said to be one of his two constant possessions along with his Bible, was cradled in his arms. Two expensive dueling pistols were holstered on either side of the pommel of his saddle.
As the rider’s horse came to the banks of the dry streambed, the traveler must have felt a painful longing as he realized there was no surface water. But, several near-death experiences under similar circumstances gave him the knowledge that the liquid might be there, trapped a few inches or perhaps several feet below the surface. Dismounting from his animal at a shaded bank, he began digging in the sandy bed of the river. Slowly the sand became thicker, heavier, more saturated. Eventually he stopped and waited for the cavity to fill as surface underflow began to form a shallow pool. Ultimately there was enough accumulation to allow him to drink.
But the life-giving promise of the Cimarron River suddenly turned sour. A party of Comanche Indians appeared and despite the rider’s signs of peace they began waving blankets to try to frighten his horse. The man snatched up his rifle and attempted to control the animal. As his horse wheeled away, he felt the pain of a Comanche arrow in his back. Whether the man stood his ground and died fighting or was cut down in flight, is not for us to know. It is only known that this last desperate encounter ended with his death and his companions never recovered his body. Only through a story from Mexican traders told weeks later to his brothers after arriving in Santa Fe, did the other members of his party learn of his death. The corpse was most likely left where it fell, another victim of the Jornada del Muerte (Journey of Death) the most dangerous stretch of the Santa Fe Trail.
Heroes of the Santa Fe Trail Page 3