Fanny Kelly

CONTINUATION OF OUR MARCH INTO THE WILDERNESS—SUFFERING FROM THIRST AND WEARINESS—DISAPPEARANCE OF MY FELLOW PRISONER—LOSS OF THE OLD CHIEF’S PIPE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES TO ME—A SCENE OF TERROR.

To take up the thread of my own narrative again, and the continuation of my journey with the savages, after the never-to-be-forgotten night when I parted with little Mary, and the attempt to escape myself will be to entertain my reader with a sight of the dangerous and precipitous paths among the great bluffs which we had been approaching, and the dizzy, fearful heights leading over the dark abyss, or the gloomy, terrible gorge, where only an Indian dares to venture.

The blackness of night, and the dread of our savage companions, added terror to this perilous ride. As we passed the little creek before we plunged into these rocky fastnesses, we had left some scattered woods along its banks.

I remember looking longingly at the dim shelter of these friendly trees, and being possessed by an almost uncontrollable desire to leap from the horse and dare my fate in endeavoring to reach their protecting shade; but the Indians’ rifles behind me, and my dread of instant death, restrained me. And now my attention was attracted by the wild and terrible scenery around us, through which our fearful captors rode at ease, although it seemed impossible for man or beast to retain a footing over such craggy peaks and through such rugged ravines.

The cool air and the sound of rippling water warned us of our nearness to a river; and soon the savages turned their horses down a steep declivity that, like a mighty wall, closed in the great bed of the North Platte.

I saw that the river was rapid and deep, but we crossed the sands, plunged in, and braved the current.

From the child to my husband was an easy transition; indeed, when I thought of one, the other was presently in my mind; and to mark the path of our retreat with the letters and papers I dropped on our way seemed the only hope I had of his being able to come to my rescue.

As the horses plunged into the swelling river I secretly dropped another letter, that, I prayed, might be a clue to the labyrinth through which we were being led; for I could see by all the Indians’ precautions, that to mislead any who should have the temerity to attempt our recovery, was the design of their movements.

They had taken paths inaccessible to white men, and made their crossing at a point where it would be impossible for trains to pass, so that they might avoid meeting emigrants. Having reached the opposite bank they separated into squads, and started in every direction, except southward, so as to mislead or confuse pursuers by the various trails.

The band that surrounded and directed us kept to the northward a little by west. I tried to keep the points of compass clearly, because it seemed part of the hope that sustained me.

Mr. Kelly had said that our position on the Little Box Elder was about twelve miles from Deer Creek Station, which lay to the northwest of us. Marking our present course, I tried, by calculating the distance, to keep that position in my mind, for toward it my yearning desire for help and relief turned.

After crossing the river and issuing from the bluffs we came to a bright, cool stream of water in a lovely valley, which ran through its bosom, spreading a delicious freshness all around.

Brilliant flowers opened their gorgeous cups to the coming sunshine, and delicate blossoms hid themselves among the rich shrubbery and at the mossy roots of grand old trees.

The awakening birds soared upward with loud and joyful melodies, and nature rejoiced at approaching day.

The beauty and loveliness of the scene mocked my sleepless eyes, and despair tugged at my heart-strings; still I made superhuman efforts to appear cheerful, for my only refuge was in being submissive and practicing conciliation. My fear of them was too powerful to allow me to give way to emotion for one moment.

There were sentinels stationed at different places to give the alarm, in case of any one approaching to rescue, and I afterward learned that in such a case I would have been instantly murdered.

Next morning I learned, by signs, that Indians had gone out in search of little Mary, scattering themselves over the hills, in squads. Those remaining were constantly overlooking their plunder and unrolling bundles taken from our wagons. They indulged their admiration for their spoils in loud conversation.

The Indians seemed to select, with a clear knowledge of natural beauty, such localities as seemed best fitted to suggest refreshment and repose.

The scenery through which we had passed was wildly grand; it now became serenely beautiful, and to a lover of nature, with a mind free from fear and anxiety, the whole picture would have been a dream of delight.

The night of my capture, I was ordered to lie down on the ground, near a wounded Indian. A circle of them guarded me, and three fierce warriors sat near me with drawn tomahawks.

Reader, imagine my feelings, after the terrible scenes of the day previous; the desolate white woman in the power of revengeful savages, not daring to speak, lest their fury should fall on my defenceless head.

My great anxiety now was to preserve my sanity, which threatened to be overcome if I did not arouse myself to hope, and put aside the feeling of despair which at times stole over me. My heart was continually lifted to “Our Father,” and confidently I now began to feel that prayer would be answered, and that God would deliver me in due season. This nerved me to endure and appear submissive.

At early dawn I was aroused from my apparent slumbers by the war chief, who sent me out to catch the horses—our American horses being afraid of the savages—and as the animals were those belonging to our train, it was supposed that I could do so readily.

Upon returning, my eyes were gladdened by the sight of my fellow prisoner, who was seated with her boy upon the ground, eating buffalo meat and crackers. I went immediately to her, and we conversed in low tones, telling her of my intention to escape the first opportunity. She seemed much depressed, but I endeavored to re-assure her, and bidding her hope for the best, went back to where the Indians were making ropes, and packing their goods and plunder more securely, preparatory to the succeeding march, which was commenced at an early hour of the day.

We proceeded on our journey until near noon, when we halted in a valley not far to the north of Deer Creek Station, and I met this lady again. It was a clear and beautiful valley where we rested, until the scorching rays of the sun had faded in the horizon.

Being burdened with the gun, and bow and arrow of the chief, my tired arms were relieved, and I plead for the privilege of camping here all night for many reasons. One was, we might be overtaken by friends sent to rescue us, and the distance of return would be less if I should be successful in my next attempt to escape.

My entreaties were unavailing; the savages were determined to go forward, and we were soon mounted and started on. We traveled until sunset, then camped for the night in a secluded valley; we seemed to enter this valley along the base of a wall, composed of bluffs or peaks. Within these circling hills it lay, a green, cool resting place, watered by a bright sparkling stream, and pleasantly dotted with bushes and undergrowth.

The moon went down early, and in the dim, uncertain star light, the heavy bluffs seemed to shut us in on all sides, rising grimly, like guardians, over our imprisoned lines. Blankets were spread, and on these the Indians rested.

I was then led out some distance in the camp, and securely fastened for the night. But before this, I remarked, to my fellow prisoner, my determination to escape that night, if my life were the forfeit, as in every wind I fancied I could hear the voice of little Mary calling me. She entreated me not to leave her, but promising help to her should I be fortunate enough to get free, I sadly bade her good night, and went to my allotted place.

In the morning, when permitted to rise, I learned that she had disappeared. A terrible sense of isolation closed around me. No one can realize the sensation without in some measure experiencing it.

I was desolate before, but now that I knew myself separated from my only white companion, the feeling increased tenfold, and seemed to weigh me down with its awful gloomy horror.

In the heart of the wilderness, surrounded by creatures with whom no chord of sympathy was entertained—far from home, friends and the interests of civilized life—the attractions of society, and, above all, separated from husband and loved ones—there seemed but one glimpse of light, in all the blackness of despair, left, and that was flight.

I listened to every sound, while moments appeared hours, and it seemed to me that death in its most terrible form would not be so hard to bear as the torturing agony I then endured.

I murmured broken prayers. I seemed to hear the voices of my husband and child calling me, and springing forward, with a wild belief that it was real, would sink back again, overwhelmed with fresh agony.

Arrangements were then made for resuming our journey, and we were soon once more on our march. Another burden had been added to my almost worn-out frame, the leading of an unruly horse; and my arms were so full of the implements I was forced to carry, that I threw away the pipe of the old chief—a tube nearly three feet long, and given me to take care of—which was very unfortunate for me, exciting the wrath and anger of the chief to a terrible degree.

Now they seemed to regard me with a suspicious aversion, and were not so kind as before.

The country they passed over was high, dry, and barren. I rode one horse and led another; and when evening came they stopped to rest in a grove of great timber, where there was a dry creek bed.

Water was obtained by digging in the sand, but the supply was meager, and I was allowed none.

The sun began to sink, and the chief was so enraged against me, that he told me by signs that I should behold it rise no more.

Grinding his teeth with wrathful anger, he made me understand that I was not to be trusted; had once tried to escape; had made them suffer the loss of my child, and that my life would be the forfeit.

A large fire had been built, and they all danced around it. Night had begun to darken heavily over me, and I stood trembling and horror struck, not knowing but that the flame the savages capered about was destined to consume my tortured form.

The pipe of the chief was nowhere to be found, and it was demanded of me to produce it. He used the Indian words, “Chopa-chanopa,” uttered in a voice of thunder, accompanying them with gestures, whose meaning was too threatening to be mistaken.

I looked in fear and dismay around me, utterly at a loss to know what was expected, yet dreading the consequences of failing to obey.

Wechela, the Indian boy, who had been so kind to me, now came up, and made the motion of puffing with his lips, to help me; and then I remembered that I had broken the pipe the day before, and thrown it away, ignorant of their veneration for the pipe, and of its value as a peace offering.

The chief declared that I should die for having caused the loss of his pipe.

An untamed horse was brought, and they told me I would be placed on it as a target for their deadliest arrows, and the animal might then run at will, carrying my body where it would.

Helpless, and almost dying with terror at my situation, I sank on a rocky seat in their midst. They were all armed, and anxiously awaited the signal. They had pistols, bows, and spears; and I noticed some stoop, and raise blazing fire-brands to frighten the pawing beast that was to bear me to death.

In speechless agony I raised my soul to God! Soon it would stand before his throne, and with all the pleading passion of my sinking soul I prayed for pardon and favor in his precious blood, who had suffered for my sins, and risen on high for my justification.

In an instant a life-time of thought condensed itself into my mind, and I could see my old home and hear my mother’s voice; and the contrast between the love I had been so ruthlessly torn from, and the hundreds of savage faces, gleaming with ferocity and excitement around me, seemed like the lights and shadows of some weird picture.

But I was to die, and I desired, with all the strength of my soul, to grasp the promises of God’s mercy, and free my parting spirit from all revengeful, earthly thoughts.

In what I almost felt my final breath, I prayed for my own salvation, and the forgiveness of my enemies; and remembering a purse of money which was in my pocket, knowing that it would decay with my body in the wilderness, I drew it out, and, with suffused eyes, divided it among them, though my hands were growing powerless and my sight failing. One hundred and twenty dollars in notes I gave them, telling them its value as I did so, when, to my astonishment, a change came over their faces. They laid their weapons on the ground, seemingly pleased, and anxious to understand, requesting me to explain the worth of each note clearly, by holding up my fingers.

Eagerly I tried to obey, perceiving the hope their milder manner held out; but my cold hands fell powerless by my side, my tongue refused to utter a sound, and, unconsciously, I sank to the ground utterly insensible to objects around me.

When insensibility gave way to returning feeling, I was still on the ground where I had fallen, but preparations for the deadly scene were gone, and the savages slumbered on the ground near me by the faint firelight. Crawling into a sitting posture, I surveyed the camp, and saw hundreds of sleeping forms lying in groups around, with watches set in their places, and no opportunity to escape, even if strength permitted.

Weak and trembling, I sank down, and lay silent till day-break, when the camp was again put in motion, and, at their bidding, I mounted one horse and led another, as I had done on the day previous.

This was no easy task, for the pack-horse, which had not been broken, would frequently pull back so violently as to bring me to the ground, at which the chief would become fearfully angry, threatening to kill me at once.

Practicing great caution, and using strong effort, I would strive to remain in the saddle to avoid the cuffs and blows received.

Whenever the bridle would slip inadvertently from my hand, the chief’s blasphemous language would all be English; a sad commentary on the benefits white men confer on their savage brethren when brought into close contact.

Drunkenness, profanity, and dissolute habits are the lessons of civilization to the red men, and when the weapons we furnish are turned against ourselves, their edge is keen indeed.

Feeling that I had forfeited the good will of the Indians, and knowing that the tenure of my life was most uncertain, I dared make no complaint, although hunger and devouring thirst tortured me.

The way still led through dry and sandy hills, upon which the sun glared down with exhausting heat, and seemed to scorch life and moisture out of all his rays fell upon. As far as my eye could reach, nothing but burning sand, and withering sage brush or thorny cactus, was to be seen. All my surroundings only served to aggravate the thirst which the terrible heat of that long day’s ride increased to frenzy.

When, in famishing despair I closed my eyes, a cup of cool, delicious drink would seem to be presented to my lips, only to be cruelly withdrawn; and this torture seemed to me like the agony of the rich man, who besought Lazarus for one drop of water to cool his parched tongue.

I thought of all I had been separated from, as it seemed to me, forever, and the torment of the hour reduced me to despair. I wished to die, feeling that the pangs of dissolution could not surpass the anguish of my living death. My voice was almost gone, and with difficulty I maintained my seat in the saddle.

Turning my eyes despairingly to my captors, I uttered the word “Minne,” signifying water in their language, and kept repeating it imploringly at intervals. They seemed to hurry forward, and, just at sunset, came in sight of a grassy valley through which flowed a river, and the sight of it came like hope to my almost dying eyes.

A little brook from the hills above found its way into the waters of this greater stream, and here they dismounted, and, lifting me from my horse, laid me in its shallow bed. I had become almost unconscious, and the cool, delightful element revived me. At first I was not able to drink, but gradually my strength renewed itself, and I found relief from the indescribable pangs of thirst.

The stream by which the Indians camped that night was Powder River; and here, in 1866, Fort Conner was built, which in the following year was named Fort Reno.