|
American Native Press Archives and Sequoyah Research Center |
James Roane Gregory - Part I [a machine-readable transcription] |
Edited by Jeffrey Fuller-Freeman
This edition comprises all of James Roane Gregory's work currently available to me. The poems and prose selections reproduced here give some indication of the variety of subjects in which Gregory had an interest, including science, history, and poetry. The material allows the reader to develop an overall sense of Gregory's style. Any anomalies that could be attributed to typesetting error were silently emended. Eccentricities in Gregory's spelling have been marked with "sic."
The history of the Creek or Muskogee Indians is yet unwritten, but their traditions have been better preserved and handed down from generation to generation, perhaps, than have those of any other Indian tribe. They know that they are of Aztec origin and that their ancestors were in Mexico at the time of the Spanish invasion under Cortes1.
At that time they were not known as Creeks, but as "Muskogees," a sonorous Aztec name they still love. The name "Creek" has never been to their liking, but they have accepted it as a necessary part of their vicissitudes and as a result of the disastrous fortunes of war.
According to their traditions they left Mexico about the year 1520. In all probabilities, however, their exodus from that country was several years after this date, as the Spanish subjugation of Mexico was not complete before 1525. There are old stories of the unavailing valor of the Muskogees against the invaders who they say came in ships from across the great waters. They tell of the enslavement and degradation of the Aztecs, but the Muskogees were to be neither enslaved nor degraded. They antedated the Boers in trekking by more than two centuries. According to their legends, some priests of the Toltec faith came with them but these had disappeared, as well as all of the forms and ceremonies of that faith, when next they come in contact with the white race during the eighteenth century.
Muskogee traditions are rich in stories of a thousand battles as the tribe fought its way to the northeast, seeking to get as far as it could from the land it was leaving. The Muskogees, as far as can be gathered from these traditions, inhabited a part of Mexico somewhere in the vicinity of what is now the city of Vera Cruz . The sea and the seashore appear as parts of their panoramic history, and in their wanderings they appear never to have got far away from the gulf. They numbered many fighting men, and, if their traditions are to be believed, they prevailed against all the enemies coming up against them, including the warlike Commanches [sic], then numerous in the southwest; the Natchez, the Alabama Indians and other once powerful tribes. Tradition seems to be borne out by the fact that they did finally establish themselves in Alabama and Georgia, driving out the tribes inhabiting that country. They set up their Toltec altars and altar fires, but that fervid tropical faith, it seems, could not long survive a change of latitude, for tradition soon becomes silent as gods and sacrifices, as the Muskogees became creatures of their new environments, caring nothing for sacrifices and ceremonies and having for their religion a vague apprehension of a "Great Spirit" and a "Happy Hunting Ground."
It was in this condition that the white man found the Muskogees when he came again. The white man gave the tribe the name of "Creeks" because of their propensity for a well-watered country. He found them and their neighbors, the Seminoles, more troublesome than any of the other tribes of the Southeast. This may have been, and doubtless was the result of hereditary bitterness and distrust, surviving for three centuries, and moving them to accept death as a welcome alternative of what they feared was to be slavery in the event of their subjugation. General [Andrew] Jackson, who led one campaign against them, is on record with the saying that "They fought like devils." Desultory warfare, directed against the white man, continued until 1832, when the treaty was made under which the Creeks or Muskogees now hold their present homes in the Indian Territory .
What is not tradition in Creek history is a number of illustrious names. All of the full-bloods, including "Crazy Snake" [Chitto Harjo] and his deluded followers, have inheritance in the glory of Charchachee of Tustennuggee. This was one of the great warrior chiefs of the tribe. His glory is not recorded on any printed page, but is enshrined in the hearts of his tribesmen. And it is not a matter of tradition, merely, for he appeared in that warlike time when the Creek was a dangerous antagonist for even such a warrior as Andrew Jackson. In that time the tribe held a position against the assaults of the United States troops, under the command of Jackson himself until 600 of the Indians were killed. It was a defeat, but the Creeks cherish the memory of such a battle. Charchachee left a long line of descendants in the tribe and much of his blood flows today in Creek veins. Little of it is found among the half or quarter castes, for theirs is an aristocracy in the tribe which has sought to keep itself unspotted from the world, and the descendants of the Charchachee are in it and of it. And perhaps there can be found nowhere in the world a prouder or more exclusive aristocracy than this. Even when the most impoverished and ignorant, as it sometimes is, it asserts itself imperiously.
Thluco, or Weatherford, is another historic name in Creek genealogy. His descendants are numerous among the full-bloods and some of them are to be found among those not wholly of the Indian strain.2 For the most part, however, the descendants of the great have kept themselves free from contamination. This is particularly true of those of the old Chief Menewa, who lived a century ago, but whose memory is cherished and whose posterity delight in honoring it. They are compelled to acknowledge, however, that some of the names which add luster to Creek history are not of Indian sound or origin. McGillivary is suggestive of the canny Scot,[3] who cast his fortunes with the tribe, and whose diplomatic talents assisted in the formation of some of the treaties which have brought the tribe great advantages in dealing with the U.S. government. The descendants of McGillivary are not as sand from the sea shore for multitude, but they are to be found, if not wholly among the full bloods, then among the half breeds, or quarter bloods, and they, as a rule, display the qualities which made their paternal ancestry the children of McIntosh whose name is equally suggestive of the fine art of getting the best of a bargain, an accomplishment upon the possession of which, in their dealings with the government, the Creeks have of late years found many reasons to congratulate themselves. The half-breed has, in truth, cut considerable of a figure in Creek history during the last half century.
But perhaps there is no more illustrious half-breed in Creek history than Paddy Carr. His father was an Irishman, and his mother one of the fairest of the Creek women. Paddy has left no diplomatic legacy to the tribe, and none of the treaties in which Uncle Sam was given the worst of it are to be credited to him. But in the border foray, and leading the Creek van in all their battles with hostile tribes, he gave new luster to the Creek name. If all this could be forgotten in these "weak piping times of peace," the story of his house would still survive in the lingering recollections of the beauty of his famous twin daughters, Ari and Adne. Ari and Adne, tradition has it, were peerless even among the women of the quarter bloods, and one who has seen the perfect loveliness of many of the young fourth caste women of this Indian country will understand the superlative degree of comparison. Mrs. Paddy Carr was the flower of that tribe, when the valor and wit of the half-breed Paddy broke down the exclusiveness of the full-blood caste of that day, and the first fruit of the union was Ari and Adne, with as high a place among the Creek immortals as belongs to warriors or statesmen. It may be added that such an immortality means something in a land where handsome young women are by no means rare.
Indian Journal, February 22, 1901.
[1]. Hernando Cortes (1485-1547), Spanish conqueror of Mexico .
[2]. Weatherford, a combatant in the Red Stick War, was less than half Muskogee . By his use of "contamination" Gregory indicates that some of Weatherford's descendents mixed with persons of African descent.
[3]. Gregory refers to the descendants of half-Scot, quarter-French, quarter-Muscogee Alexander McGillivray (not McGillivary) and below the half-Scot, half-Coweta William McIntosh.
Many hundreds of years ago some wandering bands of Indians found their way to the country now known as Alabama, Georgia, and Florida . Finding this region abundantly stocked with game, a mild climate and such a well-watered land, these wanderers settled in that region. Being wanderers they were then all Seminoles. They fought the powerful tribes of that land who contended against these wanderers settling there.
The Appalaches, Yamasees, Tomokans and wild Caribs of the Everglades, the Yoochees [sic] of Florida, and the Alabamas of Alabama River were subdued and assigned places to dwell within the limits of the Seminole domination.
The policy was to adopt as allies the powerful tribes they had subdued rather than to exterminate them.
These "wandering, wild, lost men" divided and were known as the Hah-cha-pal-la, Ha-cha-ta and Seminole Muskogees, and became three distinct nations. History shows us that the Cherokees occupied a portion of this Territory at the time that DeSoto's explorations were made. The ancient Shell Mounds that the old time Cherokees were in the habit of building can be found all the way down into Florida to the utmost southern Keys of the cape, and traditions tell of their great wars with the wild Caribs that were driven by them across to the West India Islands, except a few bands that took refuge in the Everglades whom the Creeks afterwards conquered. History also tells of the subsequent events, except to tell the story of the three bands of Seminoles who yet dwell in Florida . The first band and the largest dwell north and east of the great Okeechobee lake and are Seminoles pure and genuine. To the southwest of Okeechobee, in the Everglades, and to the East within ten miles of the Atlantic coast, and to the west on Pease Creek, -- a stream flowing into the Gulf of Mexico--are settlements of the Seminoles whose ancestors were Creeks who were driven by wars into Georgia and Alabama, near a century ago, and who had fled to the Seminoles of Florida. Then this remnant of the old red-stick warriors joined the Seminole war parties, where their children yet dwell in the gloom of the great swamps of the Big Cypress, where are the most sullen and unconquerable of all men. They to this day shun all intercourse with white men. With strict jealousy they hold themselves in seclusion and so some writers have doubted their existence. No tribe has preserved their blood so free from contamination as these Muskogees of Florida. No nation has so sacredly preserved their customs, religion and habits as they have. No race of men has withstood the rude shocks of war when overwhelming odds were cast against them time and again, and they remain the only native proud, unyielding type of the North American Indian of four hundred years ago.
The men dress themselves in shirts of the finest cloth well finished, and the fine long gowns of calico fringed and bound about the waist with rich silk sashes. They wear fringed buckskin leggings, and their moccasins are of buckskin that fit neatly, and are richly ornamented with bead work. They also wear fringed turbans which are gracefully adorned with Heron and Egret feathers.
The language of these people is the same as Creek language of the Territory, which is soft and flowing in so musical a manner among the women to resemble the singing of birds. The men's speed is more sonorous but not harsh, and carries no guttural sounds whatever. It is admitted by philologists to be one of the most complete languages of the American Indians.
The Okeechobee Seminoles are the richest of these three bands, and are good farmers, cultivating good crops of corn, tobacco, sugar-cane and yams, besides having orchards of tropical fruits. They raise herds of horses, hogs and cattle.
There are among them some notable families as the Osceolas, Parkers, Tummah Harjo, Tustennuggee Micco, Young Tiger and others.
They are all willing workers in the fields, orchards and gardens.
The Seminole hunts only when his crops do not demand his attention. He kills and dresses the game and brings it home to his woman who takes care of the house. The wild sports of the chase are all suspended at planting time when he resumes the cultivation of his farm.
He loves his wife and children, and is always ready to purchase something to please them before he takes any thought for his own necessities. The women are fond of dress and use much ribbon, silver bracelets and beads; also a double row of silver gorgets across the shoulders and the breast.
The descendants of the Creeks who occupy the Everglades proper are not so well cultured as the regular Seminoles.
They are the only remnant of the hostile Creeks of the war of 1813-1814. They did the most desperate fighting of all the Seminole wars of Florida, and are still to this day unconquered, who contain such families as Tiger Tail, Little Tiger, A-lee-coo Chupcoo, A-ha la-kee, Tust-ta-nug-gee, who were the bravest of the fighters in the last Indian war.
They are today probably the wildest, wandering Indians to be found on the American Continent--the true prototype of his forefathers, who were the wild, lost wanderers upon the face of the earth--Seminoles in the true sense of the term indeed, Is-tee-sem-i-lo-lee, (lost wanderers.)
The food supply for the Florida Seminoles is abundant. Besides the products of the farm, orchard and herds, game of the forests and the vast fisheries of the coast and interior lakes, they make an abundance of bread root flour, "Kon-tee-kat-kee," the wild a-ha or China brier root flour, from which they bake thin cakes of bread which they serve with honey. They find an abundance of wild cabbage palm, which they call Tul-la-ha-coo, and many other wild tropical fruits. Famine is absolutely impossible with them.
The men are over six feet tall and of strong muscular build, while the women are graceful and comely. As a people they are brave, generous and hospitable, and deserve a better fate than awaits them.
Their religious system is highly developed with an extensive ritual of combination of oral literature, and ancient symbol history. Near six-hundred souls have recently been estimated as their number.
At the close of the Seminole War, Gen. Worth, then commanding the American Army that in the war, was convinced that the excessive cost of blood and treasure that had been sacrificed in removing that portion of the Seminoles that had been emigrated to the west was too great to be continued, and he made a verbal treaty with the remaining Seminoles that if they would cease hostilities against the white people, that they would be allowed to retain that portion of the Everglades and inclusive Keys and the Okee-cho-bee Prairies, which the Seminoles then occupied and they have strictly complied with the treaty.
A census of their number was taken at that time of those remaining in Florida , and they then numbered three hundred and one souls. They have since then increased to about double that number: thus, this forlorn remnant of the Muskogees or Creek Indians, which is the blood and language of these Seminoles of Florida, exists to this day. They are satisfied, and all they ask is to be let alone. They never weep, even the small infants never cry.
The true stoic inborn with their natures is so richly developed that they stand alone--the only modern parallel of the fortitude of the ancient Spartans. So well does the flowery glades and singing birds of eternal spring chant the story of Seminole character. Surely they dwell where the Great Spirit still remembers them.
Twin Territories, 2:2 (January 1900):30-31.
| My children are happy unto this day |
| He-yo-we-yoo! My mother! Hi-yo-chee! |
| The ashes of fires were cold and gray, |
| The paths are long that lead from the blue sea; |
| The Southern winds breathed and the snow was gone, |
| The warm sun counseled with the great dark cloud, |
| Then He-yo-we-yoo sent down his new corn |
| With his lightning fire dancing, singing loud, |
| He-yo-we-yoo-hi-yo. |
| The children of the storms rejoice this day: |
| He-yo-we-yoo! My mother! He-yo-chee! |
| The ashes of the fires are blown away, |
| The rain came up straight from the deep blue sea. |
| The Southern winds came blowing the new corn, |
| The warm sun counseled with the lightning cloud; |
| He-yo-we-yoo sends the lightning free born, |
| With his lightning fire we dance singing loud. |
| He-yo-we-yoo-hi-yo. |
| My children are happy. |
Wagoner Record, August 9, 1900.
[1]. The Green Corn Ceremony, commonly called the "busk" by whites, was an annual celebration held usually in late July or early August. Activities included fasting, taking "medicine," dancing, and playing stickball. The celebration, which lasted several days, marked the beginning of the New Year. Crimes and social offenses were forgiven, names were conferred, family affairs were sorted out, and order and unity among the people were reaffirmed. The ceremony was the most important event in the people's ceremonial cycle.
I will undertake to give the public through the columns of the Record1, a narrative of the Cherokee people. In doing so my purpose will be to touch only such portions of the character of these people that are not treated by historians in detail. Ancient days concealed from the European classics the Western Spartan school of human endurance until a vast gulf of overwhelming tides of Eastern hordes are heedlessly obliterating the type of manhood developed here in America long before the science of the navigator's compass was discovered.
My purpose is to let history severely alone, as revealed on historic pages and welcome critics from these pages in opposition to a lifetime of observation. The Cherokee Indians are of two distinct types, identified by dialects of the same language; one type evidently having been developed in a southern climate, being soft and musical in tone; the opposite type was as evidently developed in a cold climate, being harsh and accompanied by a whirling r--r--r sound. It is known as the Overhill Cherokee Language. Evidently the tribe had long been separated and had rejoined each other again. The ancient Cherokees have said their creation was far above the earth, that they were brought down to the surface of the earth on a white cloud which brought them to the summit of the Wa-si-o-ta Mountains, on the head waters of the Tennessee River . In spite of academic history we may admit their having traditions truly of some remote advent in their existence at the mountains mentioned. It is not far south from there to a semi-tropical country on the Gulf coast where one type probably developed the soft dialect. Neither is it far north to the mountain ranges of Pennsylvania, where the other dialect may have been developed. These facts are evidence that the Cherokees are the Aborigines of the scope of country termed the Allegheny range to the Gulf. Peculiar shell mounds of that region have been attributed to have been built by the Cherokees. Some historians have advanced evidence of this theory. Let them speak for themselves. Historians have differed in classifying this tribe. Some say they are Iroquoys [sic]. Some say they are of the Muskoki-Choctaw [sic] type, while others say they are of a type peculiar to themselves. I am inclined to adhere to the latter view, for the following reasons: There is too much of the Cherokee language peculiar from all other Indian language. The Mohawks of the Iroquois call fire the same as the Cherokees do. Cold is the same. Mountain is the same, but this is continued on to the Muskogee word for ground. The Muskogee name for cedar, white oak, buzzard, nightingale, buffalo, teeth, etc., is the same as the Cherokee. This is accounted for by there having been a system of inter-tribal religion, termed Sacred Science of the Seven Lakes, taught throughout all the tribes, which commended peace by white beads among them. The names of the animals, birds, articles and elements above mentioned were symbols used among all the tribes to indicate certain philosophic classics of the Sacred Science of the Seven Lakes, and did not indicate any kindred of the tribes. Among the Creeks, Choctaws, and Chickasaws, the similarity is caused by the adoption by the Creeks words of the Heechectees [sic] and the Alabamas of the Choctaw type of Indians. The Cherokees connect in the Sacred Science alone to all other tribes. Except the manner of saying no, yes, none, and to indicate a tribe the term ne, just as the Euchees and the Athabascan tribes of the West do by saying tee-ne. By that source, the Cherokees may be the cousins of the Apache and Navahos of the West.
The dry, grim, firm, stoic face of the old time Cherokee failed to conceal the laughing smile and exultant feelings of the soul displayed by the brilliant dark eyes of this people. You may know them wherever you meet them, for they far excel the Spaniards of Castile for brilliant, passionate eyes.
Pride of courage was the greatest passion. This characteristic, when in fortunate channels has led to their abnormal advancement to civilization and admiration of people from the East. In unfortunate channels, deplorable results have followed, even to the extent of two brothers dying in mortal combat from a moment's misunderstanding. It was deemed a disgrace for any person to boast of his merits. The world was supposed to know those merits without the possessor having to recite them. All of these characteristics, however, have been modified by civilization, Christianity, and inter-marriage with the white race. A very white Cherokee may now tell of some of his own merits, sometimes to the edification of his companions' laughing eyes.
The Cherokees are now developing into a shrewd business people. Their highways and byways are as safe as a child's cradle. Their bright eyes have borrowed a new gleam from the white man, looking out for the next dollar, guessing the size of his customer's abilities or infirmities. If you deal with him, keep your eyes open and watch his eyes revealing his thoughts. He is now a citizen of the United States . He is a Cherokee still, all the same.
History will tell you the balance of their story.
Cherokee Advocate, June 8, 1901.
| Midst darkness the lightnings flash, |
| Heralded by deep-toned roar, |
| Heaven's swift sparkling fire lash, |
| By the darkened hill and moor, |
| Glory's streaming light, |
| Glory's deep toned might, |
| Every echo rebounding, |
| Each brightened cloud resounding; |
| Glory of light. |
| "By darkness let there be light," |
| Commanded the mighty voice, |
| "Casting away death and night, |
| That my children may rejoice." |
| Thrill lights swiftly flow, |
| Cast from Heaven's bow; |
| Every echo commanding, |
| Midst darkness, light demanding, |
| Power of light. |
| Appalling storms of love flow, |
| The flashing lightnings reveal, |
| Midst the storm's loud crashing blow, |
| Midst the thunder's loud toned peal, |
| Mines of mighty store, |
| Strewn upon earth's floor, |
| To obey the child's command, |
| Swift following the child's hand, |
| Darkness to light. |
| The electric wires will go |
| To each home in every land: |
| The command will swiftly flow, |
| Sent from an infant child's hand, |
| The wheels will then turn, |
| The lamps will then burn, |
| The mighty storm's strife power, |
| Will then kneel to duty's hour, |
| By the storm's light. |
| By the lightnings sparkling gift, |
| The world heeds a child's command, |
| A child the mighty reins lift, |
| By soft cunning touch of hand: |
| The wheels are turning, |
| The lamps are burning, |
| An infant child bids them "come." |
| To bless and light the way home, |
| Blessings of light. |
| The hearts of the seas quiver, |
| The wings of the lightning hasten, |
| The child's message deliver, |
| Bidding the mother "listen," |
| Love and light flow, |
| Sent from Heaven's bow, |
| Remembering her child dove, |
| Guiding the fountain of love, |
| By Heaven's light. |
| Wagoner Record, December 6, 1895, 4:1. |
| Quick following winter's power, |
| To convert each desolate scene, |
| Called by spring's refreshing shower, |
| Each timid and weak effort scene, |
| Small the infant leaflets cower, |
| With sunshine and dew, swift strength glean, |
| They have grown a giant bower, |
| The throne of glory's budding green. |
| Budding strength with joy endeavor, |
| The soul from desolation wean, |
| The willful vine presents the flower, |
| Of vieing [sic] hue and brilliant sheen, |
| Bright from the blossom crowned tower, |
| Braving the winds and sunlight keen, |
| Drinking the dew of the midnight hour, |
| The light of glory's brightest skein. |
| Spring winds love, by the bower blow, |
| Wooing thrill the heart of the vine, |
| Sing and watch the young flower grow, |
| Each smile of beauty will enshrine, |
| Beauties with heaven's shower flow, |
| Budding gems, the vine's heart entwine, |
| Blending smiles on the tower show, |
| Where budding glory's love recline. |
| The dawn's gift, the brilliant flower, |
| With the morning star and sunshine, |
| Gems crowned thee queen of the bower, |
| Dewey beads, sparkling eyes of thine, |
| Rose and pearl crowning the tower, |
| Of beauties store, the richest mine, |
| Secret springs of beauties power, |
| Where flowered glory's love recline. |
Wagner Record, April 5, 1895, 2:3.
The commencement of the great civil war of 1861-62 had progressed some months in the states before any effect of it was felt in the Indian Territory . It was thought by some that the proper course of the Five Civilized Tribes in the war should be to take a neutral position, while among others, partisan zeal was manifest. Unfortunately, a difference of opinions finally led to open rupture in the Creek Nation, the Neutral and the Union parties combining against the Secessionists. These last were reinforced by Choctaw, Chickasaw, Cherokee and Simm's regiment and Lee's battalions of Texas Rangers of the Confederate army, under the command of Gen. Douglas Cooper, undertook to subdue these combined Union Creeks, who then concentrated in armed bodies for defense on the north fork of the Canadian River . One body of these Union Creeks was camped on the Arkansas River near the old Skiatook place, (then in the Cherokee Nation, but not in the Osage Nation) and the other on the North Fork River above mentioned. Gen. Cooper proceeded with his forces to attack the Creek camp on the North Fork River . The Union Creeks under the command of Chief Opothlayahola marched in one-fourth circle around the right flank of Cooper's army to the northeast, attempting to form a junction with the Union Creeks on the Arkansas River . Before the junction was effected, Gen. Cooper's army overtook this faction of the Union Creek, crossing the Cimmaron River just at dusk in the evening. A battle ensued which was fought after darkness had set in. After stopping the advance of the Confederates, the Union Creeks proceeded on the same night to form the junction they had in contemplation in the out set, which they accomplished the following day. Gen. Cooper did not follow the Creeks the next day, but retired toward Choska to await re-inforcement. While the army was crossing the Arkansas River at the base of the Concharty Mountains, at the old John West ferry, the writer, whose home was one mile south of where the town of Bristow now stands on Little Deep Fork river, had been as far as John Alberty's place on Pryor Creek, Cherokee Nation, helping some Cherokee boys drive some cattle there, and was returning home, expecting to meet with father at Bider's Field place at Concharty and with him to go on home, was arrested by some Creek Confederates to gratify personal grudges. They also had my father under arrest. He was 66 years of age at that time, and never again saw his home, for he soon afterwards died from excessive exposure to cold without a home or any comforts that his age should have had. We had not taken sides but we were trying to take care of our property. Every act of concession to gain the good will of our captors being unavailing, the results were that the writer now has a splendid and glorious military record in the Adjutant-General's office at Topeka, Kansas and the war department at Washington City, for services rendered in the 9th Kansas Cavalry during the war (note this, old company G !)
After Gen. Cooper got his reinforcement, he advanced against the Union Creeks upon Bird Creek a few miles north of where Tulsa now stands. Six hundred full blood Cherokees of Col. Drew's Confederate Regiment deserted and went over to the Union Creeks and 400 run off east of Grand River, which so discouraged Gen. Cooper that he started early in the morning to retreat back to Choska. The Union Creeks followed the Confederate Army and forced them into a battle, which was fought near where Hominy Creek flows into Bird Creek. The Cherokees, who had the night before joined the Union Creeks, forced the fighting at short range, they were met as fiercely by the Choctaws and Chickasaws. The Union Creeks and Southern Creeks fought each other with the fury of tigers. The Texas Rangers made repeated charges and were as often driven back. The battle thus raged all day until dark. A small band of Creeks had taught Gen. Cooper what they could do in a night fight previously on the Cimmaron River and Cooper withdrew from the field after dark. The next day he continued his march toward Choska, after burying his dead. The Union Indians were advancing to attack that morning, when they found their antagonists retiring from the field of the contest. Both sides claimed the victory of this very bloody battle.
From Choska, Gen. Cooper called for a reinforcement of 10,000 men. In the meantime, Chief Opothlayahola concluded that a movement by his people to Kansas to be absolutely necessary to save his people from the cold winter weather in a war campaign. He himself, with several hundred of his people, had left their camps on Hominy Creek and had gone to Elk River, then in the Osage Nation, but now in southern Kansas . A remnant of his people remained in the old camps and some had actually gone back to their old homes on the Deep Fork and North Fork Rivers . So confident were they in their successful fights against their enemies they seemed to fear nothing from them. This is especially true of the Nu-ya-ka bands of Union Creeks.
At that time, reinforcements for Cooper were sent, being Col. Young's famous Texas Ranger regiment and Col. Stan Watie's1 half-breed Cherokee regiment. But these reinforcements did not report to Gen. Cooper, but proceeded of their own accord to fight their own battle. They went upon Hominy creek before Cooper could reach them and attacked the remnant of the Union Creeks in the old camps. Then the battle of Chustanaulla Mountain was fought. The Union Indian force was not strong enough for this new force and were badly routed and cut up and driven off. They retreated to Opothlayahola's camp on Elk River . It was here that Conchateematha and 25 of the Creeks of the Wewoka band made a stand until all but one fell. Their rifle balls being exhausted, they fought with clubbed guns to the last. The one escaping when surrounded by the Texas, shot Lieut. McQuirk, Col. Young's Regiment, off his horse, and seizing the bridle of the Lieutenant's horse, sprang into the saddle, which carried a pair of revolver pistols, with which he fought his way out and got away.
Indian Journal, March 8, 1901.
That portion of the Creek nation lying south and west of the Arkansas River, before the advent of the Creeks, was the common battleground between the Osages on one side and the allied tribes of the Pawnee Picts, Kiowas, Commanches and Caddos on the other side. All this country was once Pawnee Pict territory, who are now known as the affiliated tribes of the Wichita agency. In junction with their allies, the Commanches and the Kiowas, the Osages were driven from the east by the Chickasaws. The Osages in turn defeated and drove out the Pawnee Picts with great slaughter.
The Pawnee Picts, having formed a strong alliance with the other tribes mentioned, were beginning to cut the Osages short and had driven them from beyond the Arkansas River to the Verdigris swamps and Grand river hills and into the Ozark ranges. The Concharty Mountain was the last fortress the Osages were compelled to relinquish, to the Pawnee allies south of the Arkansas River.[1] The Cherokee and Osage war followed, being new foes from the east against the Osages.
The first settlers of the Creeks came west and began to build homes, churches and school houses on the lands of the Pawnee allies claimed to have recovered as their old ancient homes. Contentions followed. The first Creek killed by these wild allies was named Joe, a member of the Hitchetee town. He was killed within a mile of the present town site of Muskogee .
This war party was driven west by a war party of Creeks. It was then that Jerry Cates--an inter-married white man--made a remarkable shot at a Pawnee disguised as a wolf, who was lying in a point of rocks viewing a passing column of Creek warriors. Jerry's horse began bucking and Jerry fired his rifle from the horn of his saddle, without aim, killing the wolf Pawnee at seventy-six yards distance.
When the Creeks first met these prairie warriors, who circled in open field battalion tactics, covered with snow-white shields, bedecked with war trophies and eagle feathers, they mistrusted the ability of their rifle balls penetrating the shields of these noble wild warriors. On trial, however, they found that these beautiful shields were no defense against a swift half-ounce rifle ball, which gave them great courage.
The Creek frontiersman pushed forward far west of other civilized outposts. Such men as Can-cha-tee-matha, Au-kan-teen-ne-ya, Cho-la-fek-sel-ko, Long Tiger, and Tiger Bone; also the elder brothers and uncles of ex-Chief Roley McIntosh and others should be recognized as the pioneers and knights who led the present civilization into this country. Creek blood splashed the wild prairie flowers by Pawnee arrows and lance far and near. In sight of Judge N.B. Moore's residence one fell. Just over the succeeding ridge to the west, near the base of the Concharty Mountain, Loney Bruner defeated a superior force of the enemy. The rifle being too slow, the Creeks charged the Pawnee Picts, sword in hand, against the lances of the wild men. In battle royal, worthy of the fame of the eastern fields, the enemy was driven away. Loney Bruner is the father of Hon. Richard Bruner, now of Coweta.[2] A few miles further on, near Bluford Miller's residence, an entire Creek family was slaughtered. The innocent boys and girls, with the infant child, and both parents, whom the writer well knew long years ago, and still remembers the life flushed cheeks of each as well as if they were now present and speaking, were ruthlessly butchered in their home yard. Just beyond, further west, a band of Euchees [Yuchis], of the Creek Nation, fought a large band of Pawnee Picts in open field fight on Duck Creek Prairie,[3] defeating the Pawnees and capturing the war standard of the war chief of the Pawnee Picts.
On Tiger Creek, now in Oklahoma,[4] during the fall of 1859, Long Tiger, Tiger Bone and a crippled brother of theirs--three alone, fought a war party of Comanches, who were in alliance with a war party of the Pawnee Picts. These three Tiger brothers whipped the Commanches and Pawnee Picts, killing seven of them. Tiger Bone's horse was shot from under him. Other similar contests extended along the entire western frontiers of the Creek Nation, which was advanced out into Old Oklahoma of today, and beyond the parallel of the Cherokee frontier, and in line with the Seminole and Chickasaw western frontiers. These troubles lasted forty years, with Fort Gibson garrisoned with walking pop guns, followed by Fort Arbuckle, with like conditions.
The last blood shed was by a Creek lighthorse company under Capt. Lesley Haynes, an uncle of Hon. S.J. Haynes, now of Okmulgee, and a party of Caddoes, in 1866. Then the noble red chief of the Caddoes--George Washington--and that illustrious Christian nobleman, Samuel Checotah, then chief of the Creeks, made a permanent peace between the Creeks and the allied tribes that had so long and manfully contended for this land that the United States government had sold to the Creeks. As we mourn the red splashes of blood where the wild lily gave bloom, the hummingbird and wild bees abhorred, the Muskogees will not say one word of discredit of their old foes. They are too brave and noble--after these old chiefs had clasped their hands in friendship--to do so. It was on a principle of justice that is human the Christian world over, that impelled these wild men of the prairies to hostile acts. They were brave enough to demand, in their manner, what the highest courts of America have termed "a legal right."
Wagoner Record, January 24, 1901.
[1] Conharty was a tribal town located on the south bank of the Arkansas Between present-day Muskogee and Tulsa, Oklahoma . Hitchetee (or Hitchitee), mentioned below, was located on the Deep Fork in the central part of the Creek Nation.
[2] Coweta tribal town was on the north side of the Arkansas between Muskogee and Tulsa.
[3] South of present-day Bixby, Oklahoma.
[4] Gregory is mistaken. Tiger Creek was in the Seminole Nation, now Seminole County, Oklahoma . Fort Gibson, indicated below, was in the Cherokee Nation and Fort Arbuckle in the in the Chickasaw Nation.
| Trusting hope, and yet thy heart fears. |
| Merciless, the dry hot wind blows, |
| Blasting midst the well tilled corn rows, |
| Shall the weak cry for bread in vain? |
| With each killing blast, thy hope sears, |
| Brave thy will, midst fearing heart throes, |
| Still strong in hope, midst evil woes, |
| Will the rain come with the moon's wane? |
| Sure promise, midst the bladed spears, |
| Tilling the earth from thorn to rose, |
| Ye will eat bread, rest, and repose. |
| Thy duty done, thy hopes remain. |
| The angels sympathetic tears, |
| From Oceans of mercy's zeal, flows, |
| Many blessings of life bestows, |
| Sent to thee, with the rain. |
Wagoner Record, June 21, 1895.
| To these little ones, hast thou been true; |
| Wouldst' thou cast thy right hand, then to save, |
| With heavens breath of life, thy soul pure, |
| To each lawful right, just wish crave? |
| Or hast thou from thy high gifted seal, |
| Heaven's gift of speech, betrayed with a lie, |
| Denied thy tongue, humanities weal; |
| With thy false soul, the evil one's eye? |
| Myriads of dangers compass the land, |
| Each broken promise of thine, a moan, |
| Each link of hope, prove a chain of sand, |
| Each promise, a viper of hell, sown. |
| When did the Muskogee blood kneel low? |
| Answer! (Then ye will praise honor's grave). |
| Never, til they fell neath the death blow, |
| Returned glory's gift to God that gave. |
| How ye built love's fold; with lash and pain, |
| Striking against one Muskogee home, |
| To thee, that blow will rebound again, |
| When thy shield is false, swift it will come. |
| Equity of home right, is the law, |
| To each one extend by bonds of love, |
| Why with false tongue attempting to awe, |
| The weak, the weary, and the child dove? |
| Each Muskogee, come to thy trial, |
| A living oath of honor, each greet: |
| Drink the love of home, or death's vial, |
| Honor's guiding will, with each heartbeat. |
| For a home to each, in full redeem, |
| For a name to each, on honors roll, |
| Saved from lying monopolist's scheme, |
| Greet of joy, to each Muskogee 's soul. |
Wagoner Record, June 12, 1895.
| Nineteen hundred and it rains fire and blood, |
| Fast filling up hell and the grave; |
| A million lives trampled in the gory mud, |
| They kill to kill--killing to save. |
| Great wars fought for paradise by the lost, |
| Hark! Widows' cries and orphans' wails! |
| God of Love! Pierce our hearts with cold death frost! |
| Crown Jesus Christ a stone, God Baal! |
| The love of God for man defied him, |
| The gentiles glorified his name. |
| The Roman and the Jew crucified him, |
| Science covers his love with shame. |
Wagoner Record, August 9, 1900.
| By the turn of the River we find Thee, |
| Remembering promise of old. |
| The tide of time still flows on to the sea, |
| Passing on by tempests death cold. |
| The old oaks of the forest have fell low, |
| Here by the turn of the River. |
| Of time that onward will forever flow, |
| As the waves dash on and quiver. |
| Youths' hours of leisure will not rest and stay |
| Here by the turn of the river. |
| Ceaseless they will flow on and away, |
| Thus they will flow on forever. |
| The happy values of Youth are forsaken, |
| Here by the turn of the river, |
| With curving banks new shores to awaken, |
| New hopes and cares to deliver. |
Wagoner Record, August 16, 1900.
| Standing by craigy [sic], rocky, towered, cedared clift [sic]. |
| Waiting by tumbling, roaring, foaming, dashing creek, |
| Hiding by wildest natures, broken parting rift, |
| Silent stands Lucy, smiling with red rosy cheek. |
| Standing 'neath lofty bluff, the hazel bushes screen, |
| Prettiest jet black pony, with silken flowing mane, |
| Wavy flowing arms length, on arched neck as silken skein, |
| Pawing pretty black hoof, lightly the earth disdain. |
| The sun is sinking slowly, beyond western hill, |
| The forest and glade are verdant green of early May, |
| Lucy and pony, are waiting quiet and still, |
| For the night, to banish for them, the sun's last ray. |
| Lucy's desired will, the pony understands well, |
| Each fancy controlling, complete quiet and still, |
| A shadowing part, of silent solitudes spell, |
| Motionless, not a whisper, save the roaring rill. |
| Do the guarding spirits guide, do the angels tell, |
| Guarding spirits unseen, guiding the way to go, |
| Telling her way to her soul, lead her from the dell, |
| Now bravely going the way, that she did not know. |
| From northwest Arkansas, to western gold mines go, |
| To her father going hundreds of miles of way, |
| One year ago, her mother was laid in grave low, |
| Six years ago, her father, for gold went away. |
| An uncle's guardianed ward was she, till today, |
| Of little store, he squandered away, as his right, |
| Till her pet pony, she loved so well, he sold away, |
| The colt her father gave her: they will flee this night. |
| Fourteen years, she had seen, of time fled away, |
| No news from him, if yet living did not know, |
| She must go to western gold mines, she cannot stay, |
| She will start this night dark, and to her father go. |
| The determined will urging, strong burning in her soul, |
| From scorn greed going, to her father she will fly, |
| Proceeding by will, created destinies roll, |
| Beyond the arched blue, in God in heaven rely. |
| Darkness spreads over the hills, see the evening stars, |
| The moonlights silver gleam, through forest and hazel, |
| Revealing the pony, by the trees shadowed bars, |
| Pretty Lucy, rosy as if on painter's easel. |
| The maiden and pony, have been waiting for night, |
| The black binding curtain, doubting man rests in fear, |
| Then every seen refuge, have taken hidden flight, |
| For the maiden's flight, no preventing hand is near. |
| The willing pony, advancing for saddle placed, |
| Lucy quickly prepares, on the journey to go, |
| The pony willing heed, to the guiding hand paced, |
| A fairy picture present, spring winds cheer blow. |
| There they go, fairy horse, fairy maid by moon's beam, |
| There again, in deep shadow's gloom, vanish away, |
| Here again they come near, splashing in silvered stream. |
| The nightingales sing, the wood's cricket music play. |
| As shadows there, 'neath wreathing festooned blooming vine, |
| Speedy pacing along, by grape bloom's fragrant smell, |
| Now distant speeding, vanishing as speck or line, |
| Leaving behind swiftly every known hill and dell. |
| The one star of love guide, the one hope of joy left, |
| Only one soul of love, she will seek far away, |
| A father's love remembering all else bereft, |
| The blighted hours passing, seeking joy's meeting day. |
| At early dawn by rustic cabin, she drew rein, |
| Her story told, gained sympathy, and kindly cheered, |
| A few hours much needed rest and sleep greet obtain, |
| Again mounting went her way, for pursuit she feared. |
| Riding, along the mountain path, they go away, |
| Passing through the hills, valleys, unwearied they go, |
| Speeding fairy horse, and fairy maid, all the day, |
| They thus many miles go, till the day's sun is low. |
| To her father, to truest nature's law appeal, |
| Go to her father, true filial duty show, |
| Artificed guardian, court confirmed law deal, |
| Urges her, ever so far to her father go. |
| Of small store, needed ward robe, and of little gold. |
| Gold left by her father, for use in urgent need, |
| In secret kept, till when urged to face the world cold, |
| Carried secure, swiftly on the pet pony speed. |
| By one, she is urged to return the way she came, |
| By another, kind sympathy did greet, on speed |
| Attempt to compel her to return, made by some, |
| Useless attempt, her to arrest was made indeed. |
| Useless indeed, for the pony would dash away, |
| Out speeding any pursuit, faithful to command, |
| Faithful to each call, by his mistress, night or day, |
| Ever ready, faithful heeding every demand. |
| Thus day by day, they journeyed sped by the sun's light, |
| Prettiest maid, prettiest little horse, swift pace, |
| And when need demands, thus journey also by night, |
| 'Mid fire flies flashing jeweled shadows swiftly race. |
| To the wide spreading prairies come, riding swift, |
| Western Missouri 's rolling grassy plains entranced, |
| Missouri 's beautiful flowered and blossomed gift, |
| The maid with joy heed, the delighted pony pranced. |
| The maid riding gracefully, proudly setting erect, |
| For her years of fourteen, gracefully small and light, |
| 'Trancing picture, pretty fairy figure perfect, |
| A face pleasant, unyielding compassed purpose right. |
| A curl of wavey [sic] auburn hair, trell [sic] curling lock, |
| Straying from fold, 'neath plumed riding hat are flying, |
| By face of rosey[sic] red, fleet, the playing winds mock, |
| From morning, the maid rides, till day's light is dying. |
| Equestrian beauty thus, was never before seen, |
| As the maid with prancing pony quick and nimble, |
| The pony's waving mane, and pretty jet black sheen, |
| Ever alert, with powered energy tremble. |
| They journeyed onwards, by many a rustic home, |
| Still onward, they cross many a silvery stream, |
| On many a highway, still on their way they roam, |
| And wherever they went, they seemed a passing dream. |
| Wherever they went journeying, they prospered well, |
| As if commanded, all nature rested in peace. |
| No floods prevented their journey, and no storms fell, |
| Wherever present, dreaded calamities cease. |
| Her eyes are still shining bright as the evening star. |
| To her father, onward so many miles more near, |
| With effort untired, by riding ever so far, |
| Her heart is filled, still unceasing with constant cheer. |
| Thus speeding on, brighter her hope, brighter the sun. |
| A daughter's duty true, blending with her one will, |
| Pony and mistress, heroic journeyed deed done, |
| Pictured to mind, every beauty, each vale and hill. |
| Riding swift heeding well, many flowered vales greet. |
| With joys greet smiling, the wild blossomed plain admire, |
| Admired scenes passing, and new fields of beauty meet, |
| Loved hope leading by where vying glories aspire. |