Journey to Denver Via the Butterfield Overland Despatch

By the New York Times, December 26, 1865

Smoky Hill Springs, Kansas, Saturday, November 25, 1865 – The vast expanse of the Kansas prairie, a landscape painted in hues of ochre and gold under the wide November sky, served as the backdrop for a perilous journey. This dispatch, penned from the relative safety of Smoky Hill Springs, recounts a harrowing experience along the infamous Smoky Hill Trail, a route fraught with danger and uncertainty in the autumn of 1865. The primary concern stemmed from escalating tensions with the region’s indigenous inhabitants, particularly the Cheyenne, whose resentment towards the encroaching settlers and the desecration of their ancestral lands had reached a boiling point.

The previous correspondence detailed the tragic murders and widespread depredations attributed to a band of Cheyenne warriors, allegedly led by a formidable chief known as "Fast Bear." These incidents cast a long shadow over the already treacherous journey to Denver, Colorado. News of these attacks traveled quickly, amplifying the anxieties of travelers and prompting increased vigilance along the Butterfield Overland Despatch route.

On November 23, 1865, the Butterfield Overland Despatch coach, a vital link connecting the burgeoning settlements of the West, embarked from Chalk Bluff Station, carrying among its passengers General Brewster and several other individuals eager to reach Denver. Cognizant of the prevailing dangers, a cavalry escort accompanied the coach, providing a semblance of security as they traversed the vulnerable stretch of the Smoky Hill Trail. The journey to Monument Station, a military outpost, unfolded without incident, offering a momentary respite from the ever-present threat of attack. The presence of the military garrison at Monument Station instilled a sense of security, albeit a fragile one, as travelers knew that the vastness of the plains offered little guarantee of absolute safety.

Adding to the sense of security was the presence of a large wagon train, also bound for Pond Creek, a military post situated approximately 25 miles west of Smoky Hill Springs. The wagon train, heavily guarded by infantry, represented a significant deterrent to potential attackers, offering a degree of reassurance to those venturing westward. The collective presence of these armed groups underscored the perilous nature of travel across the Kansas plains and the constant need for protection against hostile encounters.

The following morning, the journey towards Denver resumed, the Journey to Denver Via the Butterfield Overland Despatch continuing westward. Accompanying the stagecoach was an ambulance carrying Surgeon N.L. Whipple, who had previously attended to soldiers wounded during a recent skirmish with Native Americans near Chalk Bluff. The presence of the surgeon served as a stark reminder of the ever-present threat of violence and the potential for injury along the route.

Colonel William Tamblyn, seemingly confident in the level of security provided, believed the escort of eight men – three accompanying the doctor in the ambulance and five mounted men riding ahead of the coach – was sufficient to deter any potential threats. This assessment, however, would soon be tested. The vast plains, stretching endlessly in all directions, offered both beauty and peril, concealing potential dangers within its seemingly tranquil facade.

The morning unfolded without incident, and the travelers felt a sense of growing optimism as they neared their destination. However, this feeling of security was shattered when the ambulance driver, opting for a shortcut, deviated from the main road, inadvertently bypassing the station and rejoining the established route approximately a mile beyond. This seemingly minor decision would have significant consequences.

Approximately 1500 yards from the station, Mr. Davis of Harper’s Weekly, a keen observer and seasoned traveler, spotted a band of Indians charging towards them. His sharp eyes and quick thinking proved invaluable. He immediately raised the alarm, alerting the other passengers to the impending danger. Reacting swiftly, Mr. Davis opened fire on the approaching warriors with his Ballard rifle, a powerful weapon that provided a much-needed advantage in the face of the sudden attack. General Brewster and Mr. Hasbrock joined in the defense, effectively utilizing their own Ballard rifles to repel the assault. Mr. Perrin, positioned outside the coach, contributed with his revolver, adding to the barrage of gunfire directed at the attackers.

The coordinated and determined resistance of the passengers proved surprisingly effective. The initial volley of gunfire caught the Indians off guard, forcing them to retreat in disarray. Two of the attackers were struck by bullets, bearing tangible evidence of the travelers’ resolve. The Journey to Denver Via the Butterfield Overland Despatch was far from over.

Seizing the opportunity, the coach driver, spurred by a renewed sense of urgency, whipped the team of horses into a frenzy, racing towards the relative safety of the station. Upon reaching the station, the passengers disembarked, only to discover that another group of Indians had infiltrated the area, stampeding the horses and mules grazing nearby. The situation had escalated from a brief skirmish to a full-blown crisis.

One of the stock tenders, attempting to gather the scattered animals, became a target for the pursuing Indians. As he scrambled to round up the mules, an Indian warrior gave chase, drawing his bow and aiming an arrow. Fortunately, Mr. Davis, ever vigilant, intervened, firing his rifle and fatally striking the Indian just as he released his arrow. The stock tender was spared, but the livestock, including five horses belonging to the cavalry stationed at the post, were lost.

The garrison at the station consisted of a mere ten men from the Thirteenth Missouri Cavalry. Adding to their woes, five of the soldiers were away on a buffalo hunt, leaving only a small contingent to defend the post. Despite the limited manpower, the remaining soldiers prepared for a potential siege, knowing that their survival depended on their ability to withstand a sustained attack.

Even as they celebrated their narrow escape, the travelers’ attention turned to the fate of Surgeon Whipple and his ambulance. To their horror, they witnessed a group of 15-20 Indians pursuing the vehicle, which was being driven at breakneck speed by the terrified mules. The chase unfolded before their eyes, a desperate race against time with the lives of the doctor and his companions hanging in the balance.

Unable to offer immediate assistance, the four remaining cavalrymen were dispatched to aid the fleeing ambulance. The cavalrymen managed to reach a small crest approximately half a mile away, where they encountered the men from the ambulance running towards them. This sight brought a wave of relief, signaling that the occupants of the ambulance had managed to escape.

The doctor recounted his harrowing experience: "I had just left you when I thought that it might be a little imprudent but kept on. We were so near the station, and there were no signs of the Indians. But this state of affairs was changed by a number of the red ni**ers coming yelling after us, frightening the mules so that we could not turn them back toward the station. As soon as the scoundrels got near enough, they opened on the ambulance with their revolvers; we were saving our few shots until they were right on us when we fired on them."

"This had the desired effect, but only for a short time when after us they came again. Seeing that it was impossible to escape if we did not take this moment, we now left the ambulance and ran toward the four men we saw leave the station to help us."

"The Indians at once gave chase and made our run very interesting for a short time. But when we got tired running, we turned on them, fired a few shots at the gentlemen, and they would stop, so would we, but only take a breath and start again. We caught the four men, mounted behind them, and came to the station. That’s the case as near as I remember it," said the Doctor, "for I was in a slightly mixed state after we left the ambulance." The Journey to Denver Via the Butterfield Overland Despatch was becoming more perilous by the minute.

The initial attack served as a signal for Indians to emerge from every hillside and compass point, leaving no doubt that the station was surrounded. The travelers and soldiers alike realized the gravity of their situation, focusing their efforts on preparing for a sustained defense.

The soldiers garrisoning the station had constructed a bomb-proof shelter dug into the hillside, complete with a covered rifle pit. This rudimentary fortification would serve as their fortress, providing a degree of protection against the anticipated onslaught. With the arrival of the doctor and his squad, the defenders numbered 21 individuals, armed with an assortment of weapons.

The defenders were unable to mount an offensive due to the loss of their horses. Instead, they watched helplessly as the ambulance was driven into a ravine approximately a mile away and set ablaze. Simultaneously, the Indians ignited the prairie, attempting to engulf the station in flames and force the defenders out of their shelter.

A war council was convened, and the decision was made to remain united and defend their position at all costs. Their primary concern was the safety of the five men who had been out hunting. A careful watch was maintained, hoping to signal them if they approached, preventing them from falling into an ambush.

The watchmen soon spotted a small group of mounted men approaching, initially believing them to be the returning buffalo hunters. However, the Indians also spotted the approaching figures and gave chase. The small group, realizing the danger, fled over the hills towards the next station, Eaton Springs.

Given the circumstances, the decision was made to remain in their fortified position until the following day, when the government train with its infantry escort was expected to arrive, ensuring safe passage to Denver.

The hole in the hillside offered a modicum of comfort and security. The roof, constructed of tree boughs and earth, was supported by sturdy posts, providing a degree of protection against potential attacks. As night descended, a guard rotation was established, with seven men on duty for four-hour shifts.

The guards were strategically positioned to provide optimal visibility of the surrounding terrain. An hour after dark, a whirring noise was heard overhead, signaling the presence of prowling Indians firing arrows to determine the location of the defenders. The arrows failed to find their mark, and the Indians retreated, leaving the defenders in possession of their "dobe."

The entire garrison was roused just before dawn, preparing for an attack that never materialized. Indians were known to favor two times for attacks: daybreak, when their enemies were at their sleepiest, and midday, when the white man felt most confident and less likely to be on guard.

Based on their experience, the correspondent concluded that the Indians preferred to attack when they could surprise their foe and when they outnumbered them significantly. The redskins, he wrote, were more like wolves than anything else, cowardly when facing a prepared enemy but capable of extreme cruelty.

Suddenly, a sentinel announced the approach of a "considerable body of something," leaving the defenders in suspense. The approaching party turned out to be Captain Musgrove of the First United States Volunteers, with an escort, and Mr. Baker, the Division Agent of the Butterfield Overland Despatch Company.

Mr. Baker recounted his own encounter with Indians, describing how he and a man named Brigham were attacked while driving towards Captain Musgrove’s camp. Brigham managed to keep the team moving while Baker, armed with his Ballard rifle, fended off the attackers, reaching the camp safely.

Soon after, the Indians launched a larger attack, attempting to drive off the camp’s stock. However, a few shots from the infantry drove them away. The Indians remained in the vicinity, lingering beyond rifle range throughout the afternoon. As the travelers listened to these tales of Indian encounters, another group of mounted men was spotted approaching from the direction of Denver.

These newcomers were soon identified as friendly, their blue coats confirming their identity. Frontiersmen, with their keen eyesight honed by constant vigilance, could readily distinguish Indians from white men at a distance.

Captain McMichael, stationed at Pond Creek with Company A of the Thirteenth Missouri, arrived with an escort of 20 men, along with the five missing buffalo hunters. The hunters explained that they had been within sight of the station when they were chased by Indians, leading them to believe that the Indians had taken possession of the station. They then fled to Eaton Station, arriving just as the Indians were driving off the stock.

Following a brief consultation, it was decided that Captain McMichael would return to Pond Creek with his men, escorting the stagecoach.

Pond Creek Station, 460 miles from Atchison, November 27 – The group departed Smoky Hills Station on the afternoon of the 25th, reaching Eaton Springs that evening without incident. Finding the station deserted, they occupied the small huts built by the former garrison. The night passed uneventfully, and they continued their journey at dawn, reaching Henshaw Springs, a beautifully situated station, in time for a meal of buffalo meat cooked over a fire made of "chips." The mules needed rest, so a long halt was made. They arrived at Pond Creek Station in the evening, where they encountered two coaches from Denver that had been delayed due to safety concerns. Indians had been sighted along the route, but not in significant numbers. An escort would accompany them for some distance, after which it was anticipated that the need for protection would diminish.

The recent Indian raids, the correspondent argued, demonstrated the futility of making treaties and providing arms to parties that consistently murdered and robbed citizens. He promised to describe the recent barbarities in a future letter. General Brewster was working to restock the line, and preparations were being made for military protection of the route, which, once completed, would make it safer than any other.

The correspondent claimed that white men had instigated the Indians in this foray, taking care to remain beyond rifle range. During the attack on the coach, General Brewster fired twice at a white man, who fled even faster than the Indians he had led. The weather, fortunately, had been excellent, a source of much gratitude for the travelers on this Journey to Denver Via the Butterfield Overland Despatch.