William Henry Ryus.

The second William Penn; a true account of incidents that happened along the old Santa Fe trail in the sixties online

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oughly free, as it seemed from the follies of
his younger days follies that had warped all his
best natures due, as Judge Wright was com-
pelled to confess, to the timely efforts of Colonel
Boone, there sprang into the breast of Judge
Wright an unquenchable flame of jealousy. What
right had Colonel Boone to hold such an influence
over this boy, the pampered and humored dissipate
of this Congressman from Indiana, when his own
commands, and his mother's prayers had held
no such influence?

It was with sadness that Judge Wright remem-
bered the weak lad he had left on Colonel Boone's


hands, a victim of a father's lack of training, and
found here, instead, the same lad, but with much
of the weakness erased, a man now, with an ambi-
tion to do and to be.

At sight of this miracle wrought by the clever-
ness of Colonel Boone, Judge Wright rebelled.
There entered his heart, a subtle fiend, a poisoned
arrow, inspired by the rescuer of his son, good,
brave, Colonel Boone. Had not this stranger
entered the heart of his boy and opened up the
deep wells of his intellect, buoyed up a hope within
his heart that goodness was greatness, and opened
his eyes to the pitfalls into which he would event-
ually fall, if he kept on the way he was going?
In fact, Colonel Boone had sounded the message
of salvation, and Wright, Jr., had accepted its
graces, and before his father stood a righteous
transformation, to the honor and glory of Colonel
A. G. Boone, the tried and true friend of the

Again Judge Wright feels the sting of the ser-
pent. He implored his son to return to his paren-
tal roof, but this the boy declined to do, so Judge
Wright went at once to Colonel Boone and with
many unjust and unscrupulous epithets accused
him of having alienated the affections of his son.
Colonel Boone had but to hear him out and bare
his shoulders for such other blows which Judge
Wright sought to pelter him, and we will hear
with what blow he was driven from his post as
Indian Agent.

* * * * *

At the next session of congress, Congressman
Wright sought to deal his death blow to Colonel


Boone, and to thus avenge the disloyalty of his
son to his father, at no matter what cost to his
own honor and integrity. This blow he dealt the
rescuer of his son, from shame and disgrace, and
who but for Colonel Boone might never have suc-
ceeded in being sober long enough to sell a pound
of bacon. In Congress Judge Wright accused
Colonel Boone of disloyalty toward the Govern-
ment, declared that he was a secessionest, and that
he was robbing the Indians, etc., and so succeeded
in having him removed. To this act might fitly
be applied the old adage: "Save a man from
drowning and he will arise to cut off your head."
After Colonel Boone was relieved by the new
agent, Mr. Macauley, Majors Waddell and Russell
gave Colonel Boone a large ranch on the Arkansas
River, about fifteen miles East of Pueblo, Colo-
rado, afterwards known as Boonville. Waddell
and Russell were the great government freight
contractors across the plains. This ranch consist-
ed of 1,400 acres of good land, fenced and cross
fenced, having several fine buildings thereon, and
otherwise well improved.

In the fall of 1863, about fifty influential
Indians of the various tribes, visited at the home
of Colonel Boone and begged him to return and
be their agent, stating that an uprising was immi-
nent. Colonel Boone told the Chief that the
President of the United States had ejected him
and that the President would not let him do the
thing they asked him. Then the Indians offered
to sell their ponies to raise the money for him to
go to Washington to intercede with the "Great
Father," to tell him of the "doin's" of their new


agent, and to get reinstated himself. When Boone
told them that it was impossible, and for them
to go back and trust to the agent to do the right
thing, they were greatly disappointed.

Soon after Colonel Boone had installed himself
in his new home on the Arkansas River, he be-
came the innocent victim of another man's wrath.
A certain Mr. Haynes was keeping the Stage
Station and was not giving satisfaction to the
company, inasmuch as the mules seemed to be
lacking the care and attention the company
thought due them. The corn sent by the com-
pany (government) to feed the mules did not find
its way to the mule troughs. So the Stage Com-
pany began to negotiate with Colonel Boone to
take the station, and he took it.

This arrangement angered Mr. Haynes, and he
reported to a Union Soldier that Colonel Boone
was a rebel of the deepest dye, and further said
that he had a company of Texas Rangers hidden,
and intended to "clean out the country." The
Lieutenant to whom this deliberate falsehood was
told, sent fifteen soldiers to the home of A. G.
Boone to confiscate his property and to burn him
out if they found indications that the report was

Mr. Boone's residence was seven miles from
Haynes' and the soldiers reached Boone's place
about 1 :30 o'clock P. M. and their horses looked,
to a casual observer, like they had been ridden
fifty miles. They were all covered with dust
which the crafty soldiers had thrown upon them
and were flecked with sweat. One soldier went


forward and asked politely to be given something
to eat.

Colonel Boone who was a whole-hearted, "hail
fellow well met" sort of a man, invited them to
come in and to put their horses in the barn and to
give them one really good feed, remarking at the
same time that they had better remove their sad-
dles and allow the horses to cool off.

One soldier, without a first thought, began to
throw his saddle off, but was quickly prevented
by a quicker witted soldier, but the action was
not quick enough. Colonel Boone had observed
without appearing to do so, the normal condition
of the back of the horse, and something had flown
to his mind, that "all was not right on the
Wabash," and he concluded to keep cool. Some-
thing told him that they were agents of Mr.
Haynes, and were on mischief bent.

After caring well for the horses, the soldiers
were invited to the house where they went to the
back porch and refreshed themselves with clean
cistern water and fresh towels. While they were
getting "slicked up" as some of the soldiers jok-
ingly called their face wash, Colonel Boone called
the old negro woman to bring a pitcher of whiskey,
glasses, sugar, nutmeg, and eggs, and make them
a rich toddy. When this was done, Colonel
Boone with a lavish hand distributed it generously
among his guests, after which they were escorted
through the old-fashioned long hall to the front
porch where they rested and awaited the good
dinner already in progress for them.

Mrs. Boone was sick in bed, and one or two of
the soldiers seeing some one in bed, and more to


find out who was there than anything else, saun-
tered into the room and up to the bed. As soon
as he saw he had made a mistake, he quickly
apologized and retreated to the front porch,
where, to cover his embarrassment, he asked how
far it was to Haynes'. Boone told him it was
seven miles.

Fearing the soldiers would become restless by
their prolonged wait for dinner, Colonel Boone
went into the house and told his two daughters.
Maggie and Mollie, to help the old negro lady
get dinner, and to stay in the dining room during
the dinner hour and wait on the soldiers, and be
as pleasant as possible with them. He told the
girls that he was afraid the soldiers were messeng-
ers of mischief, sent there at the suggestion of Mr.
Haynes, but that he had not decided just what
they intended to do. It was the idea of Colonel
Boone to make the whiskey draw the object of
this visit to him, from his guests, and some of the
more talkative ones had already begun to divulge
their business. The Colonel decided to leave them
alone so they could consult with themselves, so
busied himself about the house making his visitors
comfortable wherever he could. He stopped in
the living room and listened to the conversation
going on between the soldiers out on the porch,
which conversation sometimes developed into an
argument about Mr. Haynes and the Lieutenant,
the full import of which he could not glean. Then
he returned to the porch, in a round-about way,
brought up the subject of distance, from his place
to Haynes. He then said: 'Mr. Haynes had an
ill-feeling toward me, and I have been told that


he is circulating a report that I am a rebel, and
that he intends to do me bodily harm." One sol-
dier was in good condition then to talk the toddy
had done its work well and he said: "I gad,

Colonel, you ah jes' about right ;" but he

could get no further. One soldier had closed his
mouth, with the remark to Colonel Boone, that
some soldiers never knew what they were talking
about, when they had enjoyed a good glass of
whiskey. The Colonel laughed as though the sub-
ject was of no importance to him and strolled
out in the yard. Just then Mollie Boone appeared
at the dining room door with a cheery smile, be-
guiling as the flower in her hair was fragrant,
and with a "welcome, gentlemen, to the Boone
home," in her comely face, bade them all go in
to dinner. At the dinner table wit and mirth
flowed as freely as did the water down the throats
of those hungry boys in blue.

When these boys had partaken of this bounty
to their full satisfaction, they thanked the pretty
waitresses for the excellent dinner. The daugh-
ters followed them from the dining room begging
them to never pass this way without coming in
to see them, and promising to have a feast pre-
pared for them. They departed, the girls return-
ing to the dining room to peep behind curtains to
watch the manly soldiers disappear around the
house, to the stables where their horses were still
munching the hay, caring nothing at all about
returning to the station at Haynes'.

The next trip I made to Bent's Fort was made
without a conductor on the stage. One of the
owners of the Stage Company, Mr. J. T. Barnum,


said to me: "Billy, you go through to Denver
with the express and mail, and then act as conduc-
tor back again to the Fort."

On my return trip, I came in contact with
a company of soldiers camped at Pueblo, Colorado.
Several of the soldiers were at the Hotel at Pueblo,
and during our talk together, I asked one of the
soldiers if he knew a Sergeant by the name of Joe
Graham. "Oh, yes," one man replied, "he is down
there in camp now." This soldier volunteered to
bring him to see me.

Mr. Graham's father was a Methodist preacher
in Monterey, New York, when Joe and I were
small boys, and we greeted each other with
warmth and affection, and had a jolly time talking
over the "old times" when we were bare-footed
school lads. Finally Joe asked me where I "was
holding forth and what I was doing?" I told him
that I had been living with Colonel Boone, driving
the stage coach from there to Bent's Old Fort, but
this trip I was on my way from Denver acting as
conductor of the mail. Mr. Graham asked me
how long I had been with Colonel Boone. I told
him I had been with him up to that time, about
six months. "I understand, said Mr. Graham,
"that Mr. Boone is a rebel." I told him that he
was most emphatically mistaken, that Colonel
Boone was one of the strongest Union men I had
ever known, and that he was as strong a Unionist
as ever lived. Then it was that I found out what
mischief Haynes had sent the soldiers to the home
of Colonel Boone, to do.

Joe Graham told me that he was the Orderly
Sergeant of the company that had camped at Mr.


Haynes, and Mr. Haynes had told the Lieutenant
that Colonel Boone was a rebel, and had a com-
pany of Texas Rangers camped close to his prem-
ises for the purpose of making a raid on the Union
soldiers. Joe Graham stated that the Lieutenant
had ordered him to take some soldiers and go to
the home of Colonel Boone, and if he found things
as Haynes had represented, to confiscate all his
property, and to burn all his buildings, but that
the Lieutenant had cautioned them to be careful
and to ascertain if the story Haynes had told was
true before they began depredations.

When Old Joe had finished his recital, my
"dander was up." "Joe," said I, "will you give me
an affidavit of these facts, with the statement of
Mr. Haynes to the Lieutenant?" He told me that
he would be pleased to do so. We went to the
Stage Company's office where Dan Hayden, a
Notary Public in and for Pueblo, Colorado, drew
up the statement and Sergeant Graham verified it.

After thanking Mr. Graham for his kindness in
this matter, I proceeded to Bent's Fort, with what
I considered good evidence of Mr. Haynes' guilt.
When I arrived at Bent's Fort, I had time to go
from there to Fort Lyons to meet the stage
coming from the States, and I took this affidavit
with me to Major Anthony, the Commanding
Officer of Fort Lyons. Mr. Anthony told me that
he had heard of some such talk as this, coming
from Mr. Haynes. He immediately sent two sol-
diers to Mr. Haynes' and had him put under arrest
and brought to the Fort. Mr. Haynes was taken
to Denver, Colorado, given a trial, convicted, and
sentenced to the penitentiary.


Macauley and Lambert Spar; Macauley is Placed

in Guard House and the Indian Agency

Reverts to Major Anthony.

A few weeks prior to the event last reported,
the Indians reported to Colonel Boone that their
agent, Mr. Macauley, was doing them an injustice.
They declared to Colonel Boone that they had as
much right to take something to eat from their
wagons and trains as Mr. Macauley had to steal
the goods sent there for them, and as long as they
were being dealt with fairly they would deal fairly
in return. It was to that end that Colonel Boone
had perfected the treaty with them, and they
were not the aggressors. Satanta, the great chief
of the Kiowas, represented the Indians in this

When this fact became known Mr. Macauley
was placed in the guard house at Fort Lyons for
dishonesty with the Indians.

When Mr. Macauley found that the Indians
were becoming hostile because of his dishonesty,
he went to the Stage Company's office at Fort
Lyons and proposed to Mr. Lambert to put up a
large stone building on the Stage Company's
ground, for the purpose of storing goods. Mr.
Lambert began to sniff the air at once, he thought
he had found a mouse, and he said: "Mr. Mac-
auley, I haven't the money to erect a building of
that kind now." Mr. Macauley told him that he
would not have to furnish a cent of money, that
he, himself, would erect the building, but he



wanted it put up under Lambert's name. He told
Lambert that he could get the Government team-
sters to haul the rock and put up the building, and
it wouldn't cost him anything to amount to any-
thing, either. Mr. Lambert told Mr. Macauley
that he could not see the advisability of such a
building. "But," said Macauley, "there's so much
condemned goods, such as flour, meat and other
groceries the flour is wormy and we can buy
them for nearly nothing, and could sell them for
a big profit." He told Lambert they could get
rich enough to go East in a little while, and live
like Princes, such as they were, if shortness of
means did not tie them to the Western Plains.
Soon their coffers would be filled to overflowing,
if they but planted the seeds of his cunning mind,
they would fructify with a harvest of plenty, and
they would reap a rich reward; for the goods that
came in for the Indians were rapidly accumulating,
and at that time, there was already a heavy excess.

Finally after they had reached the front room
of the Lambert home, and the conversation had
taken on a still more confidential turn, Mr. Lam-
bert wheeled on his guest, and in tones not meant
to inspire the greatest confidence, almost shouted
to Macauley, these words: "Do you mean to
come here and make a proposition for me to build
you a hiding place to put your stolen Indian goods
in, over my name and signature? Now, sir, your
proposition would place Bob Lambert in the guard
house, while you, the man who steals these goods
you have as much as said that they were sent
here for the Indians you would go free." Bob
Lambert was a mad animal when he was mad, and


on he went, thundering like a bull who had sud-
denly beheld a red umbrella: "Macauley, you
dog! the goods you are withholding from these
Indians are causing trouble along the whole fron-
tier, and it will amount to a bloody battle with
these ignorant people; but, I say to you, these
Indians are not ignorant of the fact that it is you
who are stealing their stuff. Nevertheless, the
whole white tribe will suffer through your dis-
honesty. These Indians have a right to protect
their rights, but in so doing, they may do depreda-
tions in the wrong place. " Mr. Macauley tried
several times to pacify Mr. Lambert; to tell him
that he had misinterpreted his proposition. He
wanted to explain himself further and more fully,
but Mr. Lambert would have none of it, and told
him to get himself out of his house, away from
his premises, and to remain away.

While Mr. Macauley 'was hesitating, Mr. Lam-
bert drew his pistol and with one word, that
sounded like a roar from a mighty lion, said, "Go !"
Mr. Macauley turned to leave, and Lambert yelled
after him : "Run, you thief, get up and hurry, or I
will fill your legs full of lead;" and Macauley did

At this time Major Anthony was the Com-
manding Officer of Fort Lyons. Mr. Macauley
ran to the Major's office, reaching there greatly
excited and in an almost exhausted condition, he
demanded Major Anthony to put the chains on
Mr. Lambert, and to chain him to the floor.
Major Anthony asked him what the matter was.
Mr. Macauley began what sounded like a very
plausible story of his encounter with Mr. Lambert.


When he stopped to catch his breath, he again
ordered Major Anthony to send at once for Lam-
bert, and place him in the guard house for threat-
ening his life.

Major Anthony rang the bell; the sentinel came
in. "Mr. Sentinel," ordered Major Anthony, "go
at once to Mr. Lambert's and tell him I want to
see him, immediately." When the sentinel told
Mr. Lambert his mission, he prepared at once to
go to the Major. While the sentinel was gone
for Mr. Lambert, Mr. Macauley attempted to leave
the office of Major Anthony before the return of
the sentinel and Lambert, but Major Anthony re-
fused to permit his exit, though he had twice at-
tempted to leave before the arrival of Mr. Lambert.
Mr. Macauley asked the Major why he could not
accept his given word, as correct. But impartial
Major Anthony assured him that to put a man in
the guard house without a hearing, would be un-
fair. He said he would give Mr. Lambert a trial.
Mr. Macauley grew furious, and told the Major
that if he wanted to take Lambert's word for this
occurrence, instead of his, that he would go, and
he arose to leave the room, but Major Anthony
restrained him. Major Anthony said: "Now, Mr.
Macauley, you sit down and cool off, and remain
seated, until the completion of this trial between
yourself and Mr. Lambert." At this juncture, Mr.
Lambert and the sentinel appeared in the doorway.
Mr. Lambert advanced, with a salute, said: "At
your service, Major Anthony, what can I do for
you?" Said Major Anthony: "You can tell the
cause of this disturbance between yourself and
Mr. Macauley. Mr. Macauley has already made


his statement, and I want to hear what you have
to say." "Major/' said Mr. Lambert, "will you
not let Mr. Macauley state the facts to you again,
in my presence, regarding this affair?" Mr. Lam-
bert then drew his pistol out of his scabbard, laid
it on the table across from Mr. Macauley, and
politely requested Major Anthony to permit Mac-
auley to tell him the exact truth of the matter in
controversy, beginning from the time he had
entered his premises, with his vile proposition,
until the time of his nasty departure, from his

Mr. Lambert turned to Macauley with a little
quick, nervous jesture, saying: "Macauley, you tell
Major Anthony the truth, and if you mince words,
and do not tell the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but the truth, I will kill you."

Mr. Macauley called on Major Anthony for
protection, but the Major only replied, that he saw
no need for protection, that all he had to do was
to tell the truth in the matter,, and that he would
vouch for Mr. Lambert's peaceableness. "Now,"
said Major Anthony, "you may proceed with your
story. The truth is your best trick, and I must
get it off my hands, be quick about it."

Mr. Macauley began the narrative with many
a jerk and start, Major Anthony was judge and
jury, Mr. Lambert was a quiet spectator, but his
wonderful eyes kept the witness on the right track,
until he had almost completed his story and at-
tempted to evade part of the conversation. Lam-
bert turned his commanding eyes upon the culprit,
demanding that not one iota of that proposition
be left out of his recital. Brought to bay, Mac-


auley had nothing to do, but confess his crime and
the proposition made Mr. Lambert, but his nerve
had broken loose and he was a whining, puny

"Now, Mr. Lambert," said Major Anthony, "I
am much obliged to you and you can go to your
quarters." Major Anthony again rang for the
sentinel and told him to bring the sergeant of the
guard house to him.

When the sergeant came, Major Anthony
turned to Macauley and told him that he was dis-
missed from the post as agent of the Indian Sup-
plies, and he, himself, would have to be the com-
missioner until the government appointed some
one to supercede him. When the Major turned
Macauley over to the Sergeant, he told him to
take the "thief" to the guard house and to see to
it that he did not escape.

A few days after this episode, Major Anthony
notified the Indians to come and receive their
annuities, as far as possible, from the remains.
Then he gave the Indians to understand that it
was the intention of the government, that they
be fairly dealt with, and follow the terms of the
treaty made by Colonel A. G. Boone.

That night the Indians had a big celebration,
dancing, singing, yelling and horse-racing, and
signified that they now had a better feeling
toward the white race that of brother now that
Major Anthony had settled their grievances by
removing Mr. Macauley from the commission.

Major Anthony reported Mr. Macauley's con-
duct to headquarters at Leavenworth, and the
Leavenworth authorities came after him, but


through the white-washing of some one, this
reprobate went scot free.

After the Chivington Massacre on Sand Creek,
the War Department was greatly disturbed over
the action of the Indians. Colonel Ford, who was
stationed at Fort Larned, was ordered to patrol
the country on the western boundary of Kansas
and eastern Colorado^, about half way between
the Arkansas River and the North Platte. He
started out with 500 fully equipped soldiers and
proceeded about 350 miles to the northwest, and
without finding signs of Indians, he went into

In the month of October, in the year of 1863,
William Poole of Independence, Missouri, pack
master of a mule train, discovered a few smokes
circling their camp, and told Colonel Ford of his
find. Mr. Ford made light of it, but the First
Lieutenant of one of the companies said that he
was going to take every precaution possible, to
protect his valuable horse, and that he would not
let it go out to range with the mules.

Mr. Poole tethered all his mules, that is, tied
their forefeet about 18 inches apart, so they could
walk around and graze, but not run, and placed
double guard over the animals.

At two o'clock in the morning, five Indians with
Buffalo robes swinging in the air, gave the war
whoop and stampeded the soldiers of Colonel
Ford, and took every horse, but that belonging to
the fastidious Lieutenant. Every soldier nursed
his "sore head" and had no consolation, but to
tell how slick those "red devils" relieved them of
their horses.


When the horses were gone, the soldiers had
no further use of their saddles and blankets.
Colonel Ford ordered them burned so the Indians

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Online LibraryWilliam Henry RyusThe second William Penn; a true account of incidents that happened along the old Santa Fe trail in the sixties → online text (page 3 of 11)