Saga of Chief Joseph

by Helen Addison Howard

  A squaw sat down near me with a babe in her arms. My brother, wishing to conciliate them, I suppose, lifted it up and placed it on my lap. I glanced at the chief and saw the glimmer of a smile on his face, showing that he had a heart beneath the stony exterior. The squaw was all smiles, showing her white teeth. Seeing that I was crying, the squaw seemed troubled and said to my brother, “Why cry?” He told her my husband had been killed that day. She replied, “She heartsick.” I was indeed.8

  Frank and his two sisters, like Joseph, rolled up near the fire in the blankets given them. Unlike the chief, though, who stretched out with his feet to the blaze, they sat up all night.

  In the morning Poker Joe rode through the camp, issuing orders to the people for the line of march that day. He mounted Emma Cowan behind him and rode off, while Frank accompanied an Indian to the horse herd where the young men were lassoing the ponies they wanted to ride. It was the white man’s chore to assist the women in packing, and to carry water at the noonday camp, for which he earned the warriors’ jibes of “heap squaw.”

  While his wife sorely grieved for him, George Cowan lay unconscious for two hours. Then he came to and tried to find water. As he started to crawl he noticed an Indian on horseback watching him. He attempted to hobble into the brush, but the warrior shot him above the hip, the bullet passing out in front of his abdomen. He remained motionless, waiting for the Nez Perce to finish the job. The brave evidently thought him dead, however, and rode away. Later a party driving loose horses passed nearby, but did not discover him.

  Then it was that George Cowan displayed great fortitude and stamina. Although seriously wounded and weak from loss of blood, he managed to crawl back to the abandoned wagons, making the nine miles in sixty hours and without food. Certainly a record of human endurance! Groups of Indians passed him in the timber while he lay still in the bushes. He found his faithful dog guarding the wrecked remains of the wagons. She followed him as he painfully dragged himself on his elbows to the Lower Geyser Basin to search for some coffee that he remembered had been spilled. Much to his relief he found it and managed to boil the coffee in a tin can. After drinking it he felt greatly refreshed. He then believed himself strong enough to crawl through the Firehole River, fortunately only a few inches deep, but the effort drained his strength. Exhausted, he lay in the brush where two scouts from Howard’s command, Captain S. G. Fisher and J. W. Redington, found him. The sight of white men filled him with new hope and courage.

  8. In the face of Joseph, the chief, were registered all his pride, courage, and enduring strength; his sorrow, and discouragement, and disdain; his wisdom, patience, and dignity.

  They fed Cowan, gave him a blanket, and advised him to remain there as the army would come by the next day and care for him. He believed the rest of the party to be dead, except for his wife and Ida, so the scouts went on to find and bury their bodies. The men had built him a campfire which was fanned into a conflagration by a sudden wind that arose. Soon the timber became a blazing menace to the injured man. To save his life he was forced to seek refuge in the Firehole River. After the forest fire had burned itself out, he crawled back into the blackened ashes and lay by his camp until discovered by General Howard and his staff. He was placed in an ambulance after being told that the rest of the party, except his wife, Frank, and Ida, had safely reached the Montana settlements.

  At noon one day the Indians held a council to decide whether the captive sisters and brother should be retained or freed. It would seem that the whites were something of a problem to the Nez Perces, partly because of the two women in the party. Joseph, in accordance with his code of civilized warfare, did not countenance unnecessary killings, nor the murder of noncombatants. Above all he would not tolerate the violation of white women prisoners by his reckless young men. So, what to do with them? Hunting and scouting parties abroad from the main band had their own ideas in reference to the whites, which accounts for the several changes of attitude in evidence during the preceding days. Perhaps Joseph feared if the party were given their liberty that they would be violated before they could leave the vicinity. This seems very probable in view of the treatment accorded the prisoners, and the manner in which their escape was finally contrived by the Indians.9

  There are conflicting accounts in various histories as to how the whites made their escape. According to Mrs. Cowan,10 the Nez Perces held the council within three days after the attack. The Indians proposed to release the women, along with Irwin, a discharged soldier who had been captured in the park. She refused to go unless her brother was also released, as she felt safer in the Indian camp. This was granted her and “two old worn-out horses were brought” for the journey.

  We clasped hands sadly with our good friend Shively, promising to deliver some messages to friends in Philipsburg should we escape. His eyes were dim with tears. In reality, I considered his chances of escape better than our own, and so told him. The Indians needed him for a guide. “We may be intercepted by the warriors out of camp,” I said. “No,” he replied, “something tells me you will get out safely.”

  We crossed the river [the Yellowstone] again, my brother riding behind Poker Joe, who went with us a half mile or more, showing us presently a well defined trail down the river. He told us we must ride “All Night, All Day, No Sleep—we would reach Bozeman on second day.” He reiterated again and again that we must ride all night. We shook hands and set out, not very rapidly. My brother walked as the horses we rode were worn out. It seemed folly to think we could escape. Furthermore, we placed no confidence in the Indian. I regret to say that as soon as he was out of sight we left the river trail and skirted along in the timber.11

  The Indians had refused to give Frank a horse in order to prevent the whites from reaching the settlements too quickly and then telling the location of the Nez Perces. A squaw had prepared lunches for the three of them. According to Frank, Poker Joe left them at the river after making a long plea for peace between the Nez Perces and the citizens of Montana.

  After they struck into the timber, Frank kept a sharp lookout for young braves who might be pursuing them. Emma Cowan wanted to return to her husband, whom she still believed dead, but was prevented by her brother. They traveled cautiously through the forest by day and shivered in the chilly mountain air all night. If they built a fire they feared their presence would be revealed to scouting parties of Nez Perces.

  Upon reaching Mammoth Hot Springs they found Lieutenant Schofield encamped with L troop of the Second Cavalry. His detail formed part of Lieutenant Colonel Gilbert’s command. The troops were returning to Fort Ellis near Bozeman to report “No Indians coming into the park,” Mrs. Cowan relates! From Mammoth the little group of brother and sisters made their way to Bozeman and thence home.

  After George Cowan’s rescue by Howard’s command the surgeon dressed his wounds, and the next day a scout brought word that his relatives were safe. From that moment his interest in life quickened, and his recovery became speedy.

  A. J. Arnold, in his account of the capture,12 criticized the general, his staff, and the surgeons for going off to view the geysers instead of giving immediate attention to the wounded Oldham and Cowan. It seems that the old army game of “passing the buck” was in vogue even among the medical staff. Each of four surgeons to whom Arnold went to ask for aid told him it was the next doctor’s duty to care for civilians! Finally one surgeon grumblingly agreed to attend the injured men, but paid scant attention to them afterward, and the job of nursing them devolved upon Arnold. He praised the teamsters who contributed old, but clean clothing for the patients.

  While the soldiers were encamped between the Yellowstone River and the Lower Basin, Bannock Indian scouts with Howard’s command ran off all the teamsters’ loose horses. It became necessary to use pack mules for several days, although the general held the Bannock chief, Buffalo Horn, as a hostage until the missing horses were returned. Cowan, though, was transported over the rough terrain in an army wagon which was lowered ov
er precipices with ropes. He survived every danger and was reunited with his wife at Bottler’s ranch on the Gardiner River, not far from Mammoth Hot Springs. From there the happy couple returned to Helena, where his recovery became complete.

  Besides the Cowan tourists another party had left Helena on August 13 to see for themselves the wonders of the park. The original group was composed of Andrew J. Weikert, Richard Dietrich, a music teacher, Fred Pfister, and Joe Roberts. In most accounts of this Yellowstone episode the assertion is made that these two parties were together, which was not true. Also, Howard in his book Chief Joseph, His Pursuit and Capture is apparently the authority for the statement that one man of the Cowan party was killed, and other historians accepted the fact without investigating it. That fate did befall two of Weikert’s friends, as will be related presently.

  At Mammoth Hot Springs the group was joined by the other members of the party, who included Leonard Duncan, August Foller, Jack Stewart, Leslie Wilkie, Charles Kenck, and Ben Stone, a colored man and cook. Although they knew the Nez Perce Indians to be on the warpath, they did not expect to see any of them. Indeed, they loaded their pack horses and penetrated farther into the park to get a view of the Upper and Lower Falls. Then, on the morning of August 25, Weikert records in his diary,13 they left camp and struck off in the direction of the Mud Geyser. When they had almost reached that place they detected a moving caravan, which on closer inspection proved to be Indians. The white men held a brief conference and decided to backtrack, as the ten in their group would be no match against what Weikert estimated as three hundred Nez Perces.

  They turned their horses about and galloped back into the timber, the Indians doing likewise in the opposite direction, not knowing, apparently, how large a force opposed them. Although the whites feared that these Indians were Joseph’s hostiles, the forest seemed so peaceful they concluded it would be safe to camp between the forks of a creek about a mile and a half above the Upper Falls. After lunch Weikert and Wilkie rode back to investigate the trail left by the Indians. Since they had not been attacked, and did not see any more signs of the Nez Perces, their confidence was restored.

  When their curiosity was satisfied they started for camp, and hoped to continue their sight-seeing journey to Yellowstone Lake. Near Sulphur Mountain and Alum Creek they espied an Indian pony about a mile from the trail, and supposed it to be abandoned. Wilkie suggested catching it and taking it “to camp for luck.” They managed to rope the pony, but it was a colt and would neither lead nor be driven, so they released it and went on their way.

  After a short distance had been covered Weikert detected the heads of several Indians bobbing above fallen logs. Instantly he suspected an ambush. He called a warning to Wilkie and the men wheeled their horses as the Nez Perces leveled their guns and fired. The whites, Indian-fashion, crouched low on the backs of their running ponies, but one bullet creased Weikert’s shoulder-blade. Strewn about the ground were fallen logs, and presently Weikert’s horse tripped over one and fell, throwing its rider, who still gripped his gun. The Indians came, leaping lightly over the tree trunks as Weikert sprang to his feet, shot at the warriors, mounted and galloped away. Each action had been so speedily accomplished that the braves were nonplussed and stood with their mouths open.

  Weikert soon overtook Wilkie and the pair gained dense timber in time to conceal themselves in thick underbrush. Wilkie had been in the lead and so was unharmed. They rode cautiously through the forest to the camp, intending to warn the others. But they found their peaceful camp deserted and in a shambles. At first they thought the others had heard the shooting and retreated into the brush, so they shouted their companions’ names. They received no answer.

  The Indians had pillaged the camp, taken provisions to replenish their own and appropriated fourteen head of horses. Besides, they had wrecked the shotguns, and taken all the blankets, tents, and saddles. What they did not want, they set on fire.

  Weikert learned later that Ben Stone, the darky cook, had been lighting the fire for dinner and the rest were lounging about the camp when the Indians suddenly fired upon them. Stone thought Wilkie and Weikert were playing pranks to frighten them, and paid no attention to the shots. At the second volley, though, all the tourists scampered into the brush. Fred Pfister struck for the Yellowstone River; Dietrich fell into a hole in the creek and lay there for perhaps four hours, being concealed by the high grass surrounding the water. Roberts and Foller ran through the timber, followed by the bullets of the Indians, none of which, fortunately, found their mark. They made their escape to Virginia City, one hundred and fifty miles away. Leonard Duncan also made a hurried exit, via the woods, and reached Mammoth Hot Springs. Stewart and Kenck were closely pursued by the warriors, Stewart receiving a wound in the side and leg. They killed Kenck and took Stewart’s money, a large roll of bills, but spared his life.

  As they received no answer to repeated hails, Weikert and Wilkie believed the others had escaped the attack, so they filled their saddlebags with ham and other food spurned by the Indians and started for Mammoth Springs, distant fifty miles. Stewart and Ben Stone had made their getaway after the braves left and were overtaken by Weikert and Wilkie. Stone, too, had hidden in the water. Near the Springs the party met a white man who told them that Pfister had reached Mammoth safely, and also Mrs. Cowan, Ida and Frank Carpenter.

  Upon their arrival they were soon joined by Duncan and Dietrich, who was nearly exhausted. Weikert and Jim McCartney, a settler who owned an interest in the Springs and store, set out with pack horses to search for the rest of their party. Dietrich decided to stay at Mammoth and await the return of the others.

  After the soldiers and other whites left Mammoth, a raiding party of eighteen or twenty Nez Perces appeared. They were at first mistaken for Weikert and the missing members. At the time Dietrich was about a mile from the house, repicketing his horse. He was warned by Stoner, a hunter, to take refuge in the brush because the Indians had stopped at the Springs.

  Apparently the next day Dietrich ventured back to the house shortly before the raiding party returned with horses they had stolen from a Montana rancher down the river. A short time later the troops who pursued the Indians found Dietrich’s body near the steps of the house. He had been shot through the heart and was still warm.

  When the Nez Perces had appeared Ben Stone ran out the back door and up the gulch, hotly pursued by a brave. He had the presence of mind to climb a tree, and as his dusky hue blended with the shade of approaching darkness he managed to escape detection.

  In the meantime Weikert and McCartney reached the place where the party had been attacked. They found and buried Kenck’s body and salvaged the ruins of the camp. Unable to locate the bodies of the others, they started for Mammoth. Before they left an Indian spied them, evidently a scout from the raiding party, but they galloped away in the timber.

  About eighteen miles from the Springs they suddenly ran into a party of Indians on the trail. The white men dashed aside into the brush, pursued by the warriors who blazed away at them. One bullet hit Weikert’s horse. As the animal sank beneath him, he dived for the underbrush. McCartney’s saddle slipped, which caused his horse to buck. The settler was thrown and his mount galloped away. Once the whites gained the shelter of thick brush the Indians withdrew, contenting themselves with taking Weikert’s saddle and bridle.

  They made their way on foot to Mammoth, but found only Dietrich’s body where the soldiers had left it inside the house. Having nothing to eat, they decided to continue on to a ranch seven miles away toward the Gardiner River. In the darkness they stumbled on the soldiers’ camp, where they were reunited with Ben Stone. Weikert later returned with a wagon and brought the bodies of Kenck and Dietrich to Helena for burial. The troops, pursuing the Indians, had had no time to bury Dietrich, they explained.

  Major General Hugh L. Scott, then a lieutenant in the Seventh Cavalry, but attached to Lieutenant Doane’s detail which pursued the eighteen Nez Perces, states that the sold
iers’ chase had

  momentous consequences we little dreamed of and surely never intended, since with us it was mostly a lark. None of us had thought that with ten men we could beat the Indian force that had nearly overcome the Seventh Infantry; we had only wanted to drive in their advance guard and maybe get back to the horses, if we were quick enough, and we actually were quick enough to get back nineteen. It was months afterward that I learned what had really resulted.

  Chief Joseph, on various occasions since, has repeatedly told me that they had intended to go out to the buffalo country, down the Yellowstone Valley, leaving the mountains where the river turns northeast—now the site of the town of Livingston, Montana. But they were diverted by seeing us in front. They had been surprised by General Gibbon and the Seventh Infantry in their front at Big Hole. . . . The Nez Perces had enough to think about with General Howard on their trail, and they did not wish to encounter any more troops on their front, with the risk of being caught between two forces.

  The eighteen we chased back were Joseph’s scouts, feeling far in his advance, who returned and reported meeting troops down the river. No one could imagine that we would chase them that way unless we had a strong support behind us. The Yellowstone Valley here is hemmed in between high mountains with little room to maneuver. If both ends of the valley were closed by troops, the Indians could never hope to save their women, children, and horses, and so, instead of trying to go on down the river, as originally intended, they crossed the Yellowstone at the Mud Geysers just below the outlet of the Yellowstone Lake, and went up Pelican Creek, across the mountains and down Clarks Fork of the Yellowstone, which they recrossed at the mouth of Cañon Creek, just above Billings. . . . I was first told of this by Joseph in 1877, and his information was confirmed by a signed statement obtained by the Nez Perce agent at Nespilem, Washington.14