Fanny Kelly

ELIZABETH BLACKWELL—MORMON HOME—A BRUTAL FATHER—THE MOTHER AND DAUGHTERS FLEE TO THE MOUNTAINS—DEATH OF THE MOTHER AND SISTERS FROM EXPOSURE—ELIZABETH SAVED BY AN INDIAN—A WHITE WOMAN TORTURED—RESCUED CHILDREN—THE BOXX FAMILY—CAPTURE OF MRS. BLYNN.

Some few weeks after the events just related, I received a note from a stranger, requesting me to call on her at the dwelling of a hunter, where she was stopping. Her name was Elizabeth Blackwell, and emigrated with her parents from England, who became proselytes of the ruling prophet of Salt Lake City, where they remained until Elizabeth’s father took another wife. This created trouble; words ensued, soon followed by blows, and Elizabeth, in endeavoring to protect her mother, was struck by her brute of a father with a knife, and one of her eyes destroyed.

Being discouraged and broken-hearted, the wretched mother and daughters (for Elizabeth had two sisters) resolved to escape. They wandered away among the mountains, and, having no place of shelter, all perished with the cold, except Elizabeth, who was found by the Indians, nearly frozen to death. They lifted her up and carried her to camp, where they gave her every attention requisite for restoration.

She remained with the Indians until she was able to go east, where she underwent the severe operation of having both legs amputated above the knee.

The treatment received from the Indians so attached her to them that she prefers to live a forest life, and when she gave me her narrative, she was on her way from the States to her Indian home.

Her father soon wearied of his Mormon wife, and escaped to the Rocky Mountains, where he became a noted highwayman. Hearing of Elizabeth’s residence among the Indians, he visited her, and gave her a large sum of money. The fate of his family had great effect on him, and remorse drove him to desperation.

The husband of Elizabeth took his second wife and Elizabeth’s child from Salt Lake to Cincinnati, where they now live.

She was twenty-six years old when I saw and conversed with her, a lady of intelligence, and once possessed more than ordinary beauty.

She had just received the news of her father’s death. He was killed near Fort Dodge, Kansas.

Elizabeth related to me many acts of cruelty she had witnessed among the savages, one of which was to the following effect:

A woman was brought into the camp on horseback, who had been captured from a train, and an Indian who was attempting to lift her from the horse, was shot in the act, by her own hand. This so enraged the savages that they cut her body in gashes, filled them with powder, and then set fire to it.

The sight of the woman’s sufferings was too much for Elizabeth to endure, and she begged the savages to put an end to the victim at once, which accordingly was done.

But although Elizabeth saw many heartless acts—many terrible scenes—still she had a kindly feeling toward the Indians, for they saved her from a horrible death by starvation and exposure, and had been very tender with her. She was somewhat embittered toward the white people, on account of her sufferings, and treatment.

A short time after, General Sully invited me to Fort Harker, to see two white captive children, a girl of fourteen and a boy of six. They had been captured two years before, and the account of their treatment given me by the girl, was any thing but favorable. The boy was as wild as a deer.

A Sioux woman at Fort Harker had taken these children into her own family and cared for them as a mother. She was the daughter of a white man, was born at Fort Laramie, and had married an interpreter by the name of Bradley. She was quite intelligent, having been educated by her husband.

In January, 1868, two other children were captured in the State of Texas by the Kiowah Indians. They were girls, aged five and three years. Their parents and all the known relatives had been murdered, and the children had been recently recovered from the Indians, and were in the care of J. H. Leavenworth, United States Indian Agent. Having no knowledge of their parentage, they were named Helen and Heloise Lincoln.

Another interesting family was taken from Texas by the Indians, their beautiful home destroyed, and all killed with the exception of the mother and three daughters.

Their name was Boxx. The ages of the children were respectively eighteen, fourteen, and ten, and they were allowed to be together for a time, but afterward were separated.

They experienced great cruelties. The youngest was compelled to stand on a bed of live coals, in order to torture the mother and sisters.

Lieutenant Hesselberger, the noble and brave officer, whose name will live forever in the hearts of the captives he rescued, heard of this family, and, with a party of his brave men, went immediately to the Indian village, and offered a reward for the captives, which at first was declined, but he at length succeeded in purchasing the mother and one girl; he afterward procured the release of the others.

Lieutenant Hesselberger braved death in so doing, and his only reward is the undying gratitude of those who owe their lives to his self-sacrificing, humane devotion and courage.

In the fall of 1868, the Indians commenced depredations on the frontier of Kansas, and after many serious outbreaks, destroying homes and murdering settlers, the Governor issued a call for volunteers to assist General Sheridan in protecting the settlers and punishing the Indians. Among those who volunteered was my youngest brother, and many of my old schoolmates and friends from Geneva, who related to me the following incidents, which are fully substantiated by General Sheridan and others.

Mrs. Morgan, an accomplished and beautiful bride, and Miss White, an educated young lady, were both taken from their homes by the Indians. They were living on the Republican River.

During their captivity they suffered much from the inclemency of the weather, and it was March before they were released by General Sheridan.

The troops, the Kansas boys, were all winter among the mountains, endeavoring to protect the frontier.

They suffered great privation, being obliged sometimes to live on the meat of mules, and often needing food. All honor to these self-sacrificing men, who braved the cold and hunger of the mountains to protect the settlers on the frontier.

A Mrs. Blynn, whose maiden name was Harrington, of Franklin County, Kansas, who was married at the age of nineteen, and started with her young husband for the Pacific coast, was taken prisoner by the Indians and suffered terrible brutality.

About that time the savages had become troublesome on the plains, attacking every wagon-train, killing men and capturing women. But the train in which Mr. Blynn and his wife traveled was supposed to be very strong, and able to repel any attack made upon them, should there be any such trouble.

Mrs. Blynn had a presentiment of evil—of the fate of their unfortunate company, and her own dark impending destiny, in a dream, the realization of which proved too true.

When she related her dream to her husband, he tried to laugh away her superstitious fears, and prevent its impression on her mind.

It was not many days after that a large number of warriors of the Sioux tribe were seen in the distance, and the people of the train arranged themselves in a shape for attack.

The Indians, seeing this preparation, and, fearing a powerful resistance, fired a few shots, and, with yells of rage and disappointment, went off.

Within the succeeding days the travelers saw Indians, but they did not come near enough to make trouble.

Confident of no disturbance or hinderance to their journey, the happy emigrants journeyed on fearless (comparatively) of the red skins, and boasting of their power.

But the evil hour at last approached. When the column had reached Sand Creek, and was in the act of crossing, suddenly the wild yells of Indians fell upon their ears, and soon a band of Cheyennes charged down upon them.

Two wagons had already got into the stream, and, instead of hastening the others across, and thus putting the creek between themselves and their pursuers, the whites drove the two back out of the water, and, entangled in the others, threw every thing in confusion. This confusion is just what the Indians like, and they began whooping, shouting, and firing furiously, in order to cause a stampede of the live-stock.

In five minutes all was accomplished; all the animals, except those well fastened to the wagons, were dashing over the prairie. The Indians then circled around and fired a volley of bullets and arrows. Mr. Blynn was killed at the second fire, while standing before the wagon in which were his wife and child.

“God help them!” was all he said, as, firing his rifle at the Indians for the last time, he sank down dead.

The men returned the fire for awhile, then fled, leaving their wounded, all their wagons, and the women and children in the hands of the relentless victors.

Santana, who led the band, sprang in first, followed by his braves, whom he ordered to let the cowardly pale faces run away without pursuit.

The dead and wounded were scalped, and the women and children taken captive. All were treated with brutal conduct; and, having secured all the plunder they could, the savages set fire to every wagon, and, with the horses they had taken from the train, set out in the direction of their villages.

Mrs. Blynn’s child, Willie, two years old, cried very much, which so enraged Santana that he seized him by the heels, and was ready to dash out his brains, but the poor mother, in her agony, sprang forward, caught the child, and fought so bravely with the infuriated murderer, that he laughed, and told her to keep it; for he feared she would fret if he killed it.

Mounted on a pony, her child in her arms, she endeavored to please her savage captor by appearing satisfied, dwelling on the hope that some event would occur, whereby she might be rescued and restored to her friends. It was for her darling child that she endeavored to keep up her heart and resolve to live.

When they arrived at Santana’s village, Mrs. Blynn was left alone of all the seven who were taken. Group after group dropped away from the main body, taking with them the women whom they had prisoners.

Her hardships soon commenced. For a day or two she was fed sufficiently; but afterward all that she had to eat she got from the squaws in the same lodge with her; and, as they were jealous of her, they often refused to give her any thing, either for herself or Willie.

An Indian girl, in revenge for an injury done her by Santana, the murder of her best friend, became a spy for General Sheridan, and endeavored by every means in her power to rescue Mrs. Blynn from the grasp of these savages; but her efforts were unsuccessful. She was a true friend to the unfortunate lady, giving her food, and endeavoring to cheer her with the promise of rescue and safe deliverance.

The squaws abused her shamefully in the absence of Santana, burning her with sharp sticks and splinters of resinous wood, and inflicting the most excruciating tortures upon her. Her face, breasts, and limbs were one mass of wounds. Her precious little one was taken by the hair of the head and punished with a stick before her helpless gaze.

Mrs. Blynn, the captive, previous to this torture, had written a letter to the general commanding the department, whoever he might be, and sent it by the Indian girl.

We insert a copy of this letter, which is sufficient to draw tears from the eye of any one who may read it.

“Kiowah Village, on the Washita River. Saturday, November 7, 1868.

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“Kind Friend

“Whoever you may be, if you will only buy us from the Indians with ponies or any thing, and let me come and stay with you until I can get word to my friends, they will pay you well; and I will work for you also, and do all I can for you.

“If it is not too far to this village, and you are not afraid to come, I pray you will try.

“The Indians tell me, as near as I can understand, they expect traders to come, to whom they will sell us. Can you find out by the bearer, and let me know if they are white men? If they are Mexicans, I am afraid they will sell us into slavery in Mexico.

“If you can do nothing for me, write, for God’s sake! to W. T. Harrington, Ottawa, Franklin County, Kansas—my father. Tell him we are with the Kiowahs, or Cheyennes; and they say when the white men make peace we can go home.

“Tell him to write to the Governor of Kansas about it, and for them to make peace. Send this to him, please.

“We were taken on October 9th, on the Arkansas, below Fort Lyon. My name is Mrs. Clara Blynn. My little boy, Willie Blynn, is two years old.

“Do all you can for me. Write to the Peace Commissioners to make peace this fall. For our sake do all you can, and God will bless you for it!

“If you can let me hear from you, let me know what you think about it. Write to my father. Send him this. Good-by!

“Mrs. R. F. Blynn.

“P. S.—I am as well as can be expected, but my baby, my darling, darling little Willie, is very weak. O, God! help him! Save him, kind friend, even if you can not save me. Again, good-by.”

Mrs. Blynn passed her time in drudgery, hoping against hope up to the morning of the battle, when General Sheridan’s gallant soldiers, under the command of General Custer, came charging with loud huzzahs upon the village.

Black Kettle’s camp was the first attacked, though all the village was, of course, aroused.

The heart of Mrs. Blynn must have beat wildly, mingling with hope and dread, when she heard the noise and firing, and saw the United States soldiers charging upon her captors.

Springing forward, she exclaimed: “Willie, Willie, saved at last!” but the words were scarce on her lips, ere the tomahawk of the revengeful Santana was buried in her brain; and in another instant little Willie was in the grasp of the monster, and his head dashed against a tree; then, lifeless, he was thrown upon the dying mother’s breast, whose arms instinctively closed around the dead baby boy, as though she would protect him to the last moment of her life.

General Sheridan and his staff, in searching for the bodies of Major Elliott and his comrades, found these among the white soldiers, and they were tenderly carried to Fort Cobb, where, in a grave outside the stockade, mother and child lie sleeping peacefully, their once bruised spirits having joined the loved husband and father in the land where captivity is unknown.

Surely, if heaven is gained by the sorrows of earth, this little family will enjoy the brightest scenes of the celestial world.