Heroes of the Santa Fe Trail

by Randy D. Smith

  By nightfall the force had withdrawn to the original Kiowa village that had been hit that morning. It was full of Indians trying to save their possessions. Carson ordered a cavalry charge into the village. Pettis used a nearby sand hill to provide artillery support for the cavalry, loading at the base, rolling the cannon to the top, firing, and then allowing the guns to roll back down hill to be reloaded.

  Fighting at the village was desperate as the Indians refused to abandon their possessions. During hand-to-hand combat at least one chief, an Apache named Iron Shirt, died at the doorway of his teepee. Sick, wounded and crippled Indian family members were left in the lodges to the nonexistent mercy of the Ute. Soldiers also found the evidence of white captives present in the village although none were recovered. Eventually the village was burned and critical Indian supplies were lost.

  Carson’s force continued an ordered retreat through the bitter cold and darkness. After three hours of withdrawal, bivouac fires could be seen in the distance. After nearly thirty hours of continuous combat, the exhausted volunteers of Carson’s force stumbled into the supply train camp. Men collapsed into their blankets, often without eating.

  At sunrise, Carson had his weary troopers at attention, preparing for the next attack from the Kiowa. Carson was able to feed his men a breakfast of wild turkey and venison. Although the men were eager to fight again, Carson coolly restrained them, reasoning that they were too tired and the enemy too dangerous. Two soldiers and one Indian were dead in Carson’s force with twenty-five wounded. Carson felt that not more that sixty of the enemy had been killed. In the face of such odds, he ordered his force to wait for an attack rather than initiate one. No attack came and by the next day the Indians were gone. The campaign ended with dubious results, Carson and several others feeling that he had been defeated.

  Carson later told George Bent, a son of William, that he had been saved by William Bent’s old adobe fort. He also lavished praise upon Pettis’ howitzers for providing the edge that helped save the column from annihilation.

  Indians later claimed that if it had not been for the cannon, “the guns that shot twice,” none of Carson’s command would have escaped alive. They would have been overwhelmed by shear numbers as was Custer’s later misfortune.

  General Carleton, however, praised Carson highly. He reasoned that Carson had cut deeply into Indian Territory, inflicted severe damage and suffered relatively light casualties. He wrote that the encounter was a “brilliant victory”, and “another green leaf to the laurel wreath which you have so nobly won in the service of your country.” In March of the following year, Carson was brevetted brigadier general of volunteers. It was quite an accomplishment for a man who could do little more than write his own name.

  A parallel needs to be drawn concerning the battle. Carson’s force was significantly smaller than Custer’s original force on the Little Big Horn twelve years later. Carson faced a group of Indians that were probably greater in number than Custer. In spite of the howitzers, his troops had much more primitive weapons than the 7th. What Carson’s troops had that Custer’s did not, was competent cool-headed leadership. Carson kept his fighting force together and fought them as a single unit. He commanded an orderly retreat in the face of tremendous odds and potential panic.

  Probably most important of all, he was a trusted and respected leader. Custer, on the other hand, had demonstrated that he was a callous commander who, on at least one occasion, abandoned his troops in the face of danger. It is probably true that Carson was defeated as he had believed himself. Perhaps, if he had lived until the Custer defeat, he would have realized just how close he came to annihilation. Perhaps then Kit Carson would have seen a victory of sorts in his actions.

  Chapter 14

  Booth & Helliwell’s Race for Life

  Henry Booth

  Throughout the annals of the West, few men experienced such a narrow escape and lived to tell about it.

  In 1864, the hot spot of Indian resistance along the Santa Fe Trail was located along the Big Bend region of the Arkansas River in central Kansas. With the Civil War raging throughout the continent, hard-pressed troops struggled to keep this section of the trail open in order to maintain the vital commerce route to the Southwest. A spur of the Smoky Hill Trail, which led to Fort Leavenworth, and the Santa Fe Trail, which took a more southerly route to Kansas City, merged at a point where the Walnut Creek emptied into the Arkansas River. Ironically, the area was also a magnet for migrating buffalo herds and therefore, several tribes of Plains Indians.

  Although the area was termed a part of the Great American Desert by mapmakers and eastern businessmen, this section was rich in natural resources and wild game. A huge bowl shaped depression just a few miles northeast, later known as Cheyenne Bottoms, held thousands of square acres of rich marshland and tall prairie grasses. The Walnut Creek and Arkansas River were laced with stands of valuable timber. Hereditary enemies such as the Cheyenne and Pawnee warred over the area for years before the coming of the white man and certainly had little inclination to share with the interlopers. As trail usage mushroomed during the 1850s, native resistance increased accordingly. The rich plunder of the caravans was a temptation that was impossible for the Indians to ignore.

  A campaign was launched in July of 1864 to punish hostile raiding parties along the trail. Under military orders Colonel John Chivington led a surprise attack on Sand Creek, Colorado Territory in November which blew the lid off of any chance at a negotiated settlement. Open warfare raged throughout the Plains. Since the winter migration of the buffalo followed a broad arch through the center of the Big Bend country, so did most of the Plains Indian tribes. Any point west of Council Grove became a no man’s land for whites unless they were willing to travel in large well-armed bands.

  After repeated raids and several massacres in the area along Walnut Creek, it was decided to establish a military post to provide some immediate protection where the trails converged. Tiny Fort Zarah, really nothing more than a few crude dugouts in the riverbank and a hastily constructed bridge of cottonwood, became the home of 300 unassigned recruits of the Third Wisconsin Cavalry. Upon arrival at the post, the commander of the recruits, Captain Theodore Conkey, ordered the construction of a stockade stable for the horses and mules and a hastily organized hay harvesting operation to provide sufficient fodder to carry the animals through the winter.

  The new recruits and many of the officers of the Third Wisconsin cavalry were mostly city boys who had little experience even riding horses let alone fighting Indians. Although all were well-intentioned brave men, they were a poor match for the best light-cavalry forces in the world that made up the Indian ranks.

  Captain Henry Booth, chief of cavalry and inspecting officer for the military district of the upper Arkansas, was stationed at Fort Riley. He was ordered to make a special inspection tour of the trail outposts, especially the newly established Fort Zarah, before rapidly advancing winter weather made it impossible to make any last minute adjustments for the welfare of the troops. The 26-year-old officer was not a professional soldier. Born in England and raised in Rhode Island, Booth had settled near Manhattan, Kansas, on a 160-acre homestead in 1856, to begin the life of a farmer. When the Civil War broke out, he volunteered for service and rapidly rose to the rank of captain in the 11th Kansas Volunteer Cavalry. After serving in several engagements in Arkansas, his unit was ordered to Fort Riley where he served as post commander for a short period before assuming his present duties. Booth was a good man and a competent administrator, but as were most of the men serving in the military from volunteer units, he had little formal military training and was absolutely ignorant of Indian fighting tactics.

  Recently married Second Lieutenant Albert Helliwell of the 9th Wisconsin Battery was to accompany Booth. Elements of the light artillery battery had been stationed at Fort Larned for garrison duty since June 15, 1864. Helliwell was commissioned into the unit only a few months earlier in March and was to accompany Booth as an
artillery inspection officer. Both officers prepared to make their inspection tour under the protection of Lieutenant Lawrence Van Antwerp and Company L of the 11th Kansas Cavalry. Booth was not much of a horseman and decided to use a military ambulance wagon to make the tour. Helliwell, however, was an experienced team handler of reputation and suggested that they use a much lighter and more comfortable wagon known as a turnout if Booth could procure a good “way-up” team of mules. Booth found a good team and Helliwell had a set of bows fitted to the buckboard wagon, over which was thrown an army-wagon-sheet, drawn up behind with a cord, similar to those of an ordinary emigrant outfit. A round hole was left in the rear end, serving the purpose of a lookout.

  With two gripsacks, containing dress uniforms, a box of crackers and cheese, meat and sardines, and some liquid refreshment, the two men set out to inspect the outposts. There were no Indians sighted during the trip to Fort Zarah. A column of one hundred armed cavalry would certainly tend to guarantee safe passage.

  The encampment was reached in the evening after a few days passage. The tiny fort hardly resembled the well-ordered military city that was Fort Riley. There were simple dugouts nestled along the bank of the Walnut with officers’ tents nearby. Traffic had been heavy throughout the area and the weather wet. The frozen ground of the compound was uneven and rough, as was most of the trail. Litter from recent construction and hay harvesting was scattered about and the new post still needed much attention before it could meet military standards.

  Captain Booth ordered several improvements during his inspection the following day. There was also an immense amount of accumulated property in need of condemnation. Booth found himself occupied throughout the day without having the opportunity to review the post books and papers. It was decided that he would review the paperwork during an extended visit the following day.

  During the evening campfire activities, Captain Conkey made the suggestion that since it would take only a few minutes for the officers to review the paperwork and that it might be more efficient for Van Antwerp’s column to move out for Fort Larned, the next scheduled inspection, at sunrise. Fort Larned was almost 40 miles to the west, usually a long day’s travel for any mounted column. To avoid an unnecessary encampment in the open during the cold weather, or an extremely late arrival, the mounted troops could move on out.

  It would be a simple matter for the light turnout to make up the thirty-minute delay that it would take the officers to review the paperwork. Proceedings could then remain on schedule. When Booth asked about the chance of encountering hostiles, Captain Conkey responded by saying that his post had seen no indications of any type of threat. It was common knowledge that Indian activity lessened significantly during cold weather. After brief consideration, Captain Booth decided that Conkey’s suggestion was an excellent idea and issued orders for Van Antwerp to move on out at daybreak without waiting for the officers.

  Events began according to plan the following morning. Van Antwerp’s troops assembled on the frost-covered ground and moved on schedule leaving the officers’ wagon hitched and ready to go after the simple review of paperwork. However, it was soon discovered that Conkey had greatly misjudged the amount of time that it would take Booth to settle accounts. It was well into mid-morning before Booth had the task completed. Rather than a minor 30 minute lead that the officers needed to make up, Van Antwerp’s column was a full three hours out.

  During this delay, Lt. Helliwell had been pacing about in a state of concerned agitation. When Booth was nearing completion, Helliwell suggested that it might be wise for a few of Conkey’s men to escort the wagon until the officers could link up with Van Antwerp. When Booth asked for Conkey’s opinion on the matter, the captain replied that he didn’t really think the officers should be all that concerned. The post troops had not even seen an Indian in over ten days.

  It was at this point that both officers’ inexperience with Indian conflict became evident. A troop escort would have been a simple precaution to take in light of the original reason for establishment of the outpost. Booth decided that an escort was unnecessary and Conkey agreed.

  So off down the trail went the light-hearted warriors. Although a brisk breeze was blowing from the northwest, the officers found it to be a pleasant day. The turnout was not able to make the best time, however, because of the rough conditions of the deeply rutted, frozen trail. Still, they were in beautiful country and it wasn’t long before the pair was engaged in a pleasant sing-along as Helliwell urged the team forward to close the distance with their escort.

  After a few miles journey, Helliwell made the observation that the grazing buffalo were not as close to the road as was normal. At this time of year, the great buffalo herd was scattered over a broad area as individuals grazed freely. It was a normal case for them to be a bit of a nuisance, even to the point of sometimes blocking the trail. On this day, however, they were not congregated along the river where the trail ran but rather several hundred yards out on the open prairie. Booth responded to the concern by saying that Van Antwerp’s column had only passed through the area a short time before and had probably frightened the animals away from the river.

  The wagon had progressed nearly six miles when Captain Booth saw movement along the river that resembled one of the great flocks of turkeys that inhabited the area. As the curious officer made closer observation, he suddenly realized that it was not turkey but rather the tops of Indian’s heads as they rode their ponies between the bank and the river. Booth grabbed Helliwell by the arm and requested the Lieutenant’s opinion of what he was seeing. After a quick examination, Helliwell turned the team about making gallop speed back toward Fort Zarah. Booth asked Helliwell to settle down remarking that the movement might be Van Antwerp’s troopers. Helliwell replied that he had seen Indians before and there was no mistake.

  In an effort to satisfy his indecision, Booth stepped up on the footboard of the buckboard and looked over the canvas cover to make certain. That sick feeling of fear that grows in the bowels must have been sudden and intense for the officer as he focused his attention on the horsemen. Boiling out of the ravine was a full compliment of warriors. They were shedding their robes, drawing spears and preparing their bows for combat.

  Helliwell asked whether the riders were in fact hostiles. Booth answered that they were and that the band was approaching quickly. Helliwell’s response was of concern for his soon-to-be-widowed bride, Lizzy. Booth, who had no bride but was certainly concerned with saving their skins, stated that they should get out of the area as quickly as possible.

  Helliwell stiffened his jaw and remarked that he would do the driving and Booth should handle the shooting. The young Lieutenant handed his revolver over to Booth and stepped to the front of the wagon so he could lash the team forward as furiously as possible.

  Booth crawled to the back of the buckboard and spied through the small hole in the canvas. He counted at least thirty warriors bearing down upon the retreating wagon. Booth’s estimate of the rapidly closing distance and the number of warriors caused the young officer to furiously renew his lashing of the mules.

  The horse race continued for several hundred yards as the officers attempted to outrun the warriors. Helliwell would yell for a report, Booth would answer, and the Lieutenant would respond by increasing pressure on the team to maintain a full run.

  As the range closed between the wagon and the Indians, the sound of rifle shots rang out. Both men began yelling at the mules to summon more strength and speed. The warriors split ranks as they came up on the wagon, dividing to make an attack from both sides. As the pursuers passed by the wagon, a volley of arrows was launched.

  Helliwell cried out that he was hit as the arrows riddled the wagon and canvas. Booth turned to see Helliwell trying to remove an arrow from his head, just above his right ear, while still trying to lash the team forward. Booth asked Helliwell if it hurt, assuming that it probably did. Helliwell answered that it wasn’t too bad as he jerked the arrow free.

>   The warriors passed by the wagon and circled about to deliver another volley. Booth tried to take aim at the Indians but the wagon had become an impossible environment for such an action as it crashed and careened over the frozen ruts of the trail. Boxes, stores, and the captain bounced about out of control in the rear, as Helliwell drove the mules unmercifully from the front.

  A second volley of arrows rained down on the wagon. Helliwell yelled in pain as another arrow found its mark in his head, this time on the opposite side just above and behind his ear. Booth jumped to Helliwell’s aid and jerked the arrow free.

  The captain crawled back to the rear of the wagon and tried to see the position of the warriors. He was shocked to see a lone brave, within only a few yards, preparing an arrow to shoot through the puckered hole in the rear of the wagon. Booth threw himself to the side as the arrow whizzed through the hole and lodged itself in the “lazy back” of the wagon seat.

  Booth knocked the arrow from the seat back leaving the arrowhead still lodged in the split wood. He threw himself down on the floor of the wagon and tried to take a shot at the Indian. He failed to find his mark and tried to take another shot. Just as he began to squeeze the trigger, an arrow came through the canvas and lodged itself in Booth’s elbow. Booth jerked in response to the sudden pain and dropped his revolver onto the road. Before Booth could regain his composure, the wagon crashed over a frozen rut and nearly upset, throwing Booth through the canvas out onto the tailgate. The wounded officer found himself sprawled over the edge of the tailgate, trying to grab onto anything that would keep him from toppling onto the road.