Democratic Sentinel, Volume 3, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 November 1879 — THE MEEKER FAMILY. [ARTICLE]

THE MEEKER FAMILY.

Thrilling; Story of Tlwrfr Captivity—How 8a- ... th e ute Woman, Effected Their Release—How the Captives Fared Haring Their Idle Among the Savages. A correspondent of the Denver Tribunt, in chronicling the arrival at Los Pinos Agency of the women and children captured by the Ute Indians at the White River Agency, gives the following highly Interesting narrative of their captivity and final release: The ladies look careworn and fatigued, as they n&turallv would after the experience through which they have passed during the past twenty-five days, twenty-two of which they were captives among savage Indians, in a wild country, and apparently cut off from succor. The ladies express themselves as most thankful for their early deliverance, which was almost more than they dared hope for. Said Mra. Meeker, “I hardly knew what to expect. At times the Indians almost ignored us, and went forward with their oouncils without regarding our presenoe at all; again they jeered, and taunted, and threaten'd ns; at other times they were comparatively Sleasani There was but one who s«emed etermined to protect ns. This wai Susan, Johnson’s wife, who has shown herself, from the beginning to tbe end of the troubles, a woman of flue feeling, and genuinely humane and kind in her disposition to her fellowcreatures. I can never forget her or repay her 1 kindness to myself and daughter, and our entire family. She is a good woman. Yes, as to the threats,’’ said she, being requested to proceed, “we hardly expected to see tbe faces of our friends in a civilized land; yet we never lost hope, yet at times were very despondent indeed. We hoped, and yet we feared, at all times. ” The entire story of the captivity is of interest When Gen. Adams approached, which was noticed by the Indians, they rushed the captives into a secure place in the brush, where he could not see or hear them. They were securely guarded while the conference which was held was in progress. Their camp was on a tributary of the Grand river. Of course the arrival of Gen. Adams was hailed with joy, but five long hours passed before they knew whether he brought them deliverance or he would be compelled to go away and leave them with their horrid captors. The council which succeeded Gen. Adams’ arrival lasted five hours, and was marked by great vehemence on the part of the Indian orators who took part There were two parties—a peace and a war faction—and for a while war seemed bound to win the day. In the pow-wow Susan, the squaw, who is referred to above, took a leading part in the controversy, and she raised her voice for peace, and she did good work. Susan, besides being Johnson’s wife, is a sister of the great chief, Ouray, whose counsel is still more weighty among the Indians. She was supposed to represent her brother in a measure. Her words were listened to with respect, and were allowed to have their full weight Notwithstanding her entreaties and Gen. Adams’ presentation of the case, it at one time seemed as if the Indians wonld refuse absolutely to surrender their captives. They were determined to keep and make the most of them. Snsan was followed by her husband, Johnson, who also made a speech advocating the release of the captives—in fact, made a strong appeal in favor of the women, setting forth their great grief and the advantage to the Indians in this release, which might secure special consideration for them when it should come to arranging a treaty. Ho quoted and dwelt with emphasis on Ouray’s advice to the Northern Utes. It was a novel attempt, as may well he imagined, to see a squaw addressing the hardy warriors. Susan has taken first rank as a leader among them. The instance was the first one on record of a squaw joining an important council and raking a prominent part in it. As is well known, the Utes make slaves of the women, and, so far as their councils are concerned, impose the same silence on them that St. Paul did. It is supposed that in this case Susan was listened to because she wjas supposed to represent Ouray, and to Ouray the Indians now look to save them in procuring a peace. At any rate she obtained a hearing, and she pleaded well. Johnson, her husband, an influential chief, is supposed to have been brought by her to the advocating of a peace policy, for, aB ho will be and has been regarded as in a large measure responsible for it, now to see him come boldly forward and advocate lenient measures convinces one that resolution is possible even among savages. Notwithstanding their oloquont appeals, however, it is probable that the ladies would not bo released had not Gen. Adams risen from his seat aud told the Indians that they must give an affirmative or ho would give immediate orders to the soldiers lo pursue their own course toward tho Indians. They thou promised to release the prisoners unconditionally, with the hope that the General -.would use his best efforts to prevent the invasion of the soldiers for the present The history of tho prisoners during their captivity forms a most pathetic chapter. After the killing of Agent Meeker, tho women attempted to escape into the brush from the burning buildiDg. Mrs. Meoker was fired at, with the result of a flesh wound in the hip, four inches in length. Miss Moeker and Mrs. Price were called to by Indians: “No shoot white woman; stop; Indian no hurt.” They were mounted; Miss Meoker, with M rs. Price’s eldest child, 4 years old, tied behind her; Mrs. Price, with her infant in her arms, and Mrs. Meeker, who is 04 years of age, and lame from her wound. When they struck the camp at midnight, Mrs. Meeker was dismounted, and fell to the ground unable to move, and the Indians surrounded her and added to the misery of the situation by jeering and taunting “ the old white squaw. ” The next mprning they were separated, Douglass retaining the charge of Mrs. Meeker, and reraune taking Miss Meeker, while Mrs. Price and children were in the charge of an Uncompahgre Ute. The sufferings of Mrs. Meeker were indescribable during her stay with Douglass, whose squaw abused her by neglect, pushing, striking and taunts. On one occasion Douglass threw down blankets, and compelled Miss Meeker to dismount, saying they were going into camp. Ho then said they w<Bre going to stab them, and exhibited tho butcher-knives to be used for the purpose. Then he placed a musket to * her forehead, and said, “Indian going to slioot.” The courageous girl never flinched, and laughed at the burly savage. He asked her if she was afraid, and her ready response, “I am not afraid of Indians or dsath,” elicited the admiration of the red devils. They turned upon Chief Douglass in derision, and he slunk from the presence of tho bravo Miss Meeker. Soon after this they were placed in charge of Chief Johnson, and, through the instrumentality of Johnson’s squaw, their condition was very much improved, and further indignities ceased.

Susan proved to be the guardian spirit, and had it not been for her intercession the fate of the women would have formed one of the blackest pages of Indian deviltry. Through the fearful ordeal of captivity Mrs. Price and Miss’ Meeker almost fought for the rights of poor old Mrs. Meeker. They could use a little Spanish and Ute, and their defiauco of intruding Indians, and readiness to resist insult to the old lady, challenged the respect of even the blood-thirsty aborigines. They would push the savages right and left when interfered with, and, on making complaint to Susan, would face the Indians, while Susan laid down the law and penalty; and to this fact may be attributed the many favors of which %ey would otherwise have been deprived. Josie Meeker’s Story—Vivid Details of the Outbreak and Massacre at the Agency— Sufferings of the Captive AVomen. The first I heard of any trouble with the Indians at my father’s agency was the firing at Mr. Price while he was plowing for Indian crops according to Government instructions. The Indians had the idea, and laid, that as soon as the land was plowed it would cease to belong to the Utes. Two or three councils were held, and an Indian woman, Jane, the wife of Panvitts, was the cause of the whole trouble. The trouble seemed settled by two or three councils, secretly, however. The Utes were preparing fora massacre, for just before Eskridge left with the Indians a runner was seen rushing up to the tent of Douglass with what I since ieamed was news of soldiers fighting. Half an hour later twenty armed Indians came to the agency from the camp of Douglass, and began firing. I was in the kitchen with my mother, washing dishes. It was afternoon. I looked out of the window, and saw the Utes shooting the boys working on the new building. Mrs. Price was at the door washing clothes. She rushed in and took Johnnie, the baby, to fly. We ran into the milk-room, which had only one small window, and locked the door, and h'd under a shelf. The firing weDt on for several hours at intervals. There was no shoutiDg, no noise, but frequent firing. We staid in the milk-room until it began to fill with sm' ke. The sun was half an hour high. I took May Price, years old, and we all ran to father’s room. It was not disturbed. We knew the building would be burned,and ran across Douglass avsnne to a field of sage brush beyond plowed ground. The Utes were so busy stealleg annuity goods they did not see us at first About thirty of them, loaded with bl uikets, were carrying them toward Douglass’ camp, near rirs We had gone 100 yards when the Utes saw us. They threw dowD the blankets and cime running toward us ; firing as they came. Ballets whizzed as thick as grasshoppers arouud ns. Ido not think they intended to kill us—only to frighten ua Mother was hit by a bullet, which went through her underclothing, and made a flesh wound three inches long. As the Indians came nearer .they shouted: “Wo no shoot; come to us.” I had a little girl, and an Indian named Pursune said for ma to go with him. He and another Ute seized me by the arms and started Coward the river. An Uncrmpahgre Indian took Mrs. Price and her baby, and mother was taken to the headquarters of Douglass. The Indian Pursune took me wnere ms ponies were standing by the river, and seated me on a pile of blankets. Indians are now on all si’ei. I could not escape. It was now sundown. Packing was finished at dusk, and we started for the wilderness of the south. I rode

ft halve with ft saddle, bat no bridle. The Child wsa lashed behind me. TurSane ahd hie as- - B ;stant rode each side of me, driving pack mules ahead. About twenty other Indiana were in the party. • Mother came later, riding ban back txhind Douglass, both on one horse. She was 64 years old, feeble in health, wonnded. wid not recovered from a broken thigh cahsed by a fall two years ago. Chief Douglass gave her neither • horse, saddle nor blsuketa. We followed the river, and, on the other side, Pnranne brought me a hatful of water to drink. We trotted along until 9 o'clock, whea We halted for a half hour. All the Indians dismounted, and blankets w. re spread upon the ground, and I laid down to rest, with mother lying not far from me. Chief Douglass was considerably excited and made a speech to me with many gestures and great emphasis. Ue recited his grievances and explained why the massacre began. H said Thornburgh told the Indians he was going to &rre3t the head chiefs, take them to Fort Steele, and put them in a calaboose, perhaps hang them. He said my father had written all the letters to the Denver papers, and circulated wild reports about what the Indians would do, and was responsible for all the hostility against the Indians among the whites West. While Douglass was telling this he stood hi front of me with his gun, and bis anger was dreadful. He said father had always been writing to Washington, Then he swore a fearful oath in English, and said if the soldiers had not come aad threatened the Indians with Fort Steele and the calaboose, and threatened to kill other Indians at White river, the Agent wouldn’t have been massacred. Then the brave chief, Douglass, wno had eaten at our table that very day, walked off a few feet, returned, and placed Ms gun to my forehead three times, and asked me & I was going to run away. I told him I was not afraid of him nor of death, and should not run away. When he found his repeated threats could not frighten me, all the other Indians turned on him and laughed at him, and made so much fun he sneaked off, and went over to frighten my mother. All bands took a dri k around my bed; then they saddled their horses, and Pursune led my horse to me, and knelt down on his hands and knees for me to mount my horse from his back. We urged our horses forward, and journeyed in moonlight through to the Grand mountains, with the Indians talking in low tones among themselves. It was after midnight when we made the second halt in a deep and somber canyon. Mother was not allowed to come up. Douglass kept her with him, half a mile * further down the ravine. Then the squaws came, and laughed, and grinned, aud gibbered. When 1 bad lain down on the blankets two squaws sang aud danced fantastically at my feet. Other Indians stood around, and, when the women reached a certain part of their recitative, all broke into laughter. Next day Pursune went to fight the soldiers, and placed me in charge of his wife, with her three children. That same day mother came np to see me in company with a little Indian girL Wednesday, next day, Johnson went over to Jack’s camp, and brought back Mrs. Price and her baby to live in his camp. He said he had made it all right with the other Utes. We did not do anything but be around the various camps and listen to the talk of tho squaws, whose husbands were away fighting the soldiers. Sunday night Jack came, and made a big speech; also Johnson. They said more troops were coming, and recited what orders had been brought from Chief Ouray. They were in great commotion, and did not know what to do. They talked all night, and next morning struck their tents, and put them up again. Part were for going away, part for staying. We had a long ride. Tho cavalcade was fully two miles long. The wind blew a hurrieme, and the dust was so thick we cotild not see ten feet back. Most of the Indians had no breakfast, and we traveled all day without dinner or water. Mother had neither saddle nor stirrups, hut merely a few thicknesses of canvas strapped on the horse’s back, while the young chiefs pranced rout don good saddles. She did not reach Grand river until after dark, and the rido for an invalid and aged woman was long and distressing. After marching south some days tbo Indians said they would stay at their camp, and, if the soldiers advanced, would get them in a canyon aud kill them all. The Utes wore now close to the Uncompahgre district, and could not retreat much farthor. Eight miles more travel in two other days brought us to the camping-ground where Gen. Adams found us. This was near Plateau creek, but high up and not far from the snowy range. Monday night an Uncompahgre Ute camo in and said that, next dty Gen. Adams, whom they called Washington, was coming after the captives. N( xt day kbout 11 o’clock, while sowing in Pursune’s tent, his boy camo in, picked up the buffalo-robe, and wanted me to go to bed. Told him I was not sleepy. Then a squaw came and hung a blanket before tho door and spread out both hands to keep tho blanket down, so I could not push it away, l*t 1 looked over the top and saw Gen. Adams and party outside on horses Tho squaw’s movements attracted their attention and they came up close. 1 pushed the squaw aside and walked out. They arivod my name and dismounted; said they l.a l come to tako us back if wecir. d o go. 1 showed them the tent where mother and Mrs. Price were stopping. Next morning we left for Uncompahgre in charge of Capt. Cline and Mr. Sherman.

JOSEPHINE MEEKER.