Indian Attacks at Pawnee Rock, Kansas
Pawnee Rock, a prominent sandstone formation rising from the vast plains of Kansas, stands as a silent sentinel, a witness to a bygone era of westward expansion, Native American resilience, and the often-violent clash of cultures that defined the American frontier. In 1897, Colonel Henry Inman, a veteran of the Indian Wars and a keen observer of the West, penned a vivid account of this historically significant landmark and the turbulent events that unfolded in its shadow. His writings, drawing upon firsthand accounts and the collective memory of those who traversed the Santa Fe Trail, paint a compelling picture of the dangers and dramas that played out at Indian Attacks at Pawnee Rock, Kansas.
That particular region of the Great Plains, characterized by the sweeping bend of the Arkansas River near Fort Larned and the fertile valley of Walnut Creek, held a unique position in the geography and history of the area. Covering over a million acres, it existed as a sort of neutral ground, a shared hunting territory for various Native American tribes. This area, rich in buffalo, was coveted by many, but permanently occupied by none. The reason for this lay in the constant threat of intertribal conflict. Whenever different tribes converged on this resource-rich land for their annual winter meat hunt, bloody battles were almost inevitable.
This expansive region, radiating outward from Indian Attacks at Pawnee Rock, Kansas, became an arena for countless violent encounters between the diverse tribes of the plains. The Pawnee and their long-standing adversaries, the Cheyenne, frequently clashed in this area.
The strategic significance of Pawnee Rock itself was undeniable. Its elevated position offered a commanding view of the surrounding prairie, making it an ideal rendezvous point and ambush location for Native American warriors. The Pawnee, in particular, capitalized on this natural advantage. From their concealed vantage point, they could observe the Santa Fe Trail, patiently awaiting opportunities to launch swift raids on unsuspecting traders, seizing their goods and, tragically, their lives.
The Santa Fe Trail, a vital artery of commerce and westward movement, snaked its way through this perilous landscape, hugging the banks of the Arkansas River and passing directly beneath the looming shadow of Pawnee Rock. Today, a testament to the intertwining of past and present, the modern Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad follows the same route, its steel rails tracing the path once trod by wagon trains and horseback riders. The image of the Santa Fe Traders attacked by Indians in the old geographies, with Pawnee Rock looming in the background, was seared into the memories of generations.
Colonel Inman reminisced about the striking visual impact of Pawnee Rock, its appearance shifting with the seasons. In the soft, amber light of autumn’s Indian summer, or during the illusory distortions of a spring mirage, the Rock would appear as a colossal mountain range to the inexperienced traveler. Yet, with the arrival of frost and the clearing of the mists, the Rock would shrink back to its true dimensions, its sharp outline etched against the clear blue winter sky.
In the heyday of the Santa Fe trade, the Pawnee tribe held sway over the eastern-central plains. Encounters between freighters, trappers, and the Pawnee warriors were frequent and often violent, particularly at key locations like Walnut Creek Crossing, Pawnee Rock, and the forks of the Pawnee, Little, and Big Coon Creeks.
The modern landscape surrounding what is left of Indian Attacks at Pawnee Rock, Kansas now stands in stark contrast to its turbulent past. Peaceful homes and fertile fields have replaced the scenes of battle and bloodshed that once defined this place. The whistle of locomotives and the hum of harvesting machines have supplanted the war cries of Native American warriors and the death throes of their victims. Today, the waving grain sings a peaceful song in the summer breeze, a far cry from the mournful cries that once echoed across the silent prairie.
The naming of Pawnee Rock is itself steeped in legend, with various accounts attributing its origin to a bloody encounter. One such story claims that it was at this very spot that the legendary frontiersman Kit Carson killed his first Native American warrior, thus giving the rock its distinctive name.
According to Carson’s own account, this event occurred in the late spring of 1826. Carson, then a mere youth of seventeen, had joined an expedition led by Colonel Ceran St. Vrain, a prominent figure in the fur trade. The expedition, comprised of 26 mule wagons, a large number of livestock, and 42 men, was bound for the Rocky Mountains to acquire furs and trade with various Native American tribes along the Mexican border. Carson’s duties included assisting with the animals, hunting game, standing guard, and, if necessary, engaging in combat with Native Americans.
The journey began on a bright May morning from Fort Osage, Missouri, with the expedition heading west along the Santa Fe Trail. The vast plains of that era were desolate and seemingly endless, with the Arkansas River winding lazily through the treeless landscape. The sheer solitude of the plains, stretching to the horizon and punctuated by the deceptive mirages, had an infatuating effect on many, including the young Kit Carson.
During the first two weeks of the journey, the monotonous landscape was occasionally broken by sightings of buffalo herds. Kit and other designated hunters would pursue these animals to provide meat for the expedition. Carson, already a skilled horseman and marksman, quickly proved his worth, bringing down buffalo after buffalo to sustain the party.
After about three weeks, the expedition reached Walnut Creek Crossing, where they encountered their first signs of Native American presence. As the men prepared their evening meal, a group of Pawnee warriors, their faces painted and emitting terrifying yells, emerged from the river bottom in an attempt to stampede the livestock. The expedition members quickly armed themselves and drove the Pawnee back across the river.
The following day, the expedition camped at Pawnee Rock. Given the previous night’s encounter, the men took extra precautions against a surprise attack. The wagons were arranged in a corral, guards were posted, and every man slept with his rifle close at hand.
As fate would have it, Kit Carson found himself posted on guard duty that night directly in front of the south face of Indian Attacks at Pawnee Rock, Kansas. Around midnight, one of the guards raised an alarm, shouting "Indians!" A rifle shot rang out from the direction of the Rock, and Kit came running back to the corral, claiming to have killed one of the "red devils."
However, the alarm turned out to be a false one. The next morning, the men discovered that Kit had not shot a Pawnee warrior but rather his own riding mule, which he had mistaken for an enemy in the darkness. The incident became a source of amusement for the other members of the expedition, but Carson never forgot his embarrassing blunder.
Carson later recounted that he had been exhausted from a sleepless night and a long day of hunting. While on guard duty, he had fallen asleep against the rocks. When the alarm was raised, he had seen a shape rising from the grass, which he assumed to be an Indian. Without hesitation, he had fired his rifle, only to discover later that he had killed his own mule.
The following day, the expedition was attacked in earnest by a large band of Pawnee warriors. The fighting lasted for three days, during which the mules were confined to the corral without food or water. Eventually, the expedition managed to break free and reach the crossing of Pawnee Fork, thirteen miles away.
The crossing proved to be treacherous, and many of the wagons were damaged. As the train emerged on the opposite bank, the Indians unleashed a barrage of bullets and arrows. However, the trappers, led by Colonel St. Vrain and Kit Carson, launched a counter-attack and drove the Indians away. The expedition suffered heavy losses in the encounter, including four men killed, seven wounded, and eleven mules killed.
Colonel Inman’s account also includes other stories of conflict and survival at Pawnee Rock. One tale tells of seven Americans who were besieged on the Rock by a large band of Pawnee warriors. They were eventually rescued by a passing group of traders. Another story, related by Carson himself, recounts the ordeal of two trappers who were trapped on the Rock by a war party of sixty Pawnee. The trappers managed to hold off their attackers for several days before being rescued by a wagon train.
Inman also describes a battle he witnessed between a small band of Cheyenne and Pawnee warriors near Pawnee Rock in 1867. The encounter resulted in a victory for one side and a gruesome victory celebration.
Finally, Inman recounts the tragic story of the McGee caravan, a government train carrying military supplies that was attacked by a large war party of Brule Sioux near Fort Larned in 1864. All but one of the teamsters were killed in the attack. One young boy, Robert McGee, survived the massacre, but only after suffering horrific wounds.
These accounts, passed down through generations and recorded by Colonel Henry Inman, offer a glimpse into the tumultuous history of Indian Attacks at Pawnee Rock, Kansas. They serve as a reminder of the courage, resilience, and tragedy that marked the American frontier. They also underscore the importance of remembering and understanding the complex interactions between settlers and Native American tribes during this formative period in American history.