from Colorado Yesterdays by Dora Foster, 1961

Altho this encounter with Indians took place not in this immediate region, yet since my mother, Mrs. M. A. Foster, came to Colorado City that same autumn and remained here the rest of her life, we may feel the story belongs to us and I will tell it in her own words.

"Our troubles began one sunny Monday morning, July 13, 1862. It was my first summer in Colorado, as I had come only that spring from St. Joseph, Mo. We had crossed the plains, my parents and I, in a prairie schooner as one of a large wagon train and tho we had seen many Indians en route, we had no direct dealings with them and they were as yet strange beings.

"After we had reached Denver, my parents kept on with the rest of the company, going south to Colorado City, while I, then a girl of 17 years, was to spend the summer on a ranch near Bradford, about 15 miles west of Denver. This ranch was owned and operated by a Mr. and Mrs. William Johnson and I was to help them with the summer's work and to learn the life of a pioneer woman both of which tasks I was eager to begin.

"That morning, Mrs. Johnson and I were alone, as at an early hour Mr. Johnson had set out to drive to Denver to find, if he could, some young man or boy to help with the outdoor work of the ranch, and he did not expect to be back till late that night.

"About 10 o'clock while we were busy in the kitchen, an Indian rode up to the yard fence. Mrs. Johnson, who had spent five years in California and was familiar with the ways of an Indian, had seen him coming up the road and as he was whistling she had thought him a white man, since she had never known an Indian to whistle.

"As soon as she saw he was not a white man she went quickly out to the fence to stop him from coming into the house.

" 'What do you want?' she asked.

"He laid his hands together as if he were milking and said, 'Ox milk, Ox milk.'

" 'If you will stay here by the fence and not come into the house,' she answered him, 'I'll get you some bread and milk.' As he readily agreed to that she returned to the kitchen, but on opening the door she found him dose behind her.

"Springing into the room, she closed the door in his face. There was no iron lock, only a wooden button and latch. But turning the button she called to me, 'Come help me Lizzie; let's keep him out.'

"There was a small open window about a foot from the door thru which he immediately thrust his head.

" 'What are you doing here?' she demanded. 'You promised me you would stay over the fence if I brought you bread and milk.'

"His only answer was a grin. She then started to close the window. Withdrawing his head he returned to the door and forced it open, throwing us both violently away from it and spinning the wooden button across the 16-foot room and under the bed at the farther end.

"Entering he took Mrs. Johnson by the arm, pushed her outside, closed the door and turned towards me. I ran into the front of the house and from there into the yard. I stood there for a minute trying to collect my senses, then thinking this won't do I re-entered and went into the kitchen, where I found Mrs. Johnson standing just inside and the Indian just outside the open door.

"I was badly frightened but Mrs. Johnson seemed more angry than fearful. Evidently her California experiences had taught her something of the queers manners of the red men.

"Handing me my sunbonnet she said, 'Go just as quickly as you can to McGuire's for help.' Mr. McGuire was our nearest neighbor living about a half mile up the road towards Bradford.

"As I ran out into the yard I found that two other Indians had just ridden up, and feeling more keenly than ever the need for help. I hurried to the next ranch and told of our troubles. But Mr. McGuire said, 'I don't dare leave here. They will be here directly but John can go if he will be of any help.' John was his son, a lad of 14 years, and since I felt that John would be more protection than no one, he started back with me.

"As we left the McGuire yard we saw all three Indians coming to John's house. We hadn't the courage to face them so we sprang into the brush by the roadside and scuttled among the rocks that had fallen from the hogbacks, as the mountains which surrounded the ranches were called. By John's scrambling up the cliffs and pulling me up after him, we managed to elude the Indians and they passed without noticing us.

"We thought our troubles were over then but upon nearing my home we found the yard and the road before the house thronging with Indians. They seemed to be very busy, the braves giving directions to the squaws, who were pitching the teepees and apparently preparing to spend the rest of the day and night with us. Nearly all the men were well-armed with knives, pistols, guns and bows and arrows. As we drew near we found the mob densest near the kitchen door and surrounding the milk house which was only a few feet from the kitchen door.

"On reaching the door of the milk house, I found Mrs. Johnson hard at work making biscuits for her unexpected company. Tho this plucky woman might resist the imprudence of one lone Indian, yet she dared not to refuse to obey the demands of nearly 500 of them, so she asked me to build a fire in the kitchen stove and to help her by baking the biscuits. I at once lighted a fire and attended to the baking. Thebiscuits were snatched by the greedy crowd as soon as I could take them from the oven.

"The mixing of the ingredients seemed to interest them greatly. They examined all that went into the bread pan. The soda they thrust their hands into and allowed it to slip slowly thru their dark fingers, all the while talking animatedly to each other.

"While Mrs. Johnson was busily mixing she said to me in a low tone, "I wish to goodness I had some poison to put into this but even if I had I am afraid I couldn't use it as they are watching me so closely.' We did not dare talk much together as there were several Mexican interpreters always standing near.

"Unlike the arrangements of the modern houses we now enjoy our pantry was adjoining the sitting room, which had to be crossed every time we needed more flour for the baking. As we did not want any of these men to see our good supply of flour, we carried out from the pantry only a small amount at a time, just enough for a pan or two of biscuits, and finally after many trips across the sitting room and thinking to rid our selves of the thankless task we told them that our flour was all gone. But these hungry men were not to be withstood, for out from dirty blankets they brought small quantities of flour tied up in bits of greasy flour sacks or little pieces of buckskin. So our task went on.

"While waiting for a panfull to bake I sat down on a trunk that was near a window.

"An old chief led his horse up across the door way and beckoning me said, 'You squaw, ugh,' and with many grunts motioned me to take his horse out and picket it. I sat there too frightened to move and he, doubtless thinking me brave and defiant, instead of being paralyzed with fright, presently cared for the animal himself.

"As Mrs. Johnson was going back and forth to the milk house, the Indians lounged closely in her path and forced her to crowd past them.

"One tall fellow seemed determined to stand directly in the low doorway with his hand upon the door frame overhead. This brave woman was so provoked with having to crowd past them and push them aside in the yard that she finally lost her patience with this one and gave the door a quick push, pinching his thumb. With a terrible oath this angry man seized a chair and seated himself right in the doorway. As she cried, 'Get out of the door,' she tried to jerk the chair from under him. Between them they pulled the chair to pieces.

"Then with her eyes snapping, she sprang behind the door and took down from the wall a huge blacksnake (whip). As she raised it into the air to strike him he stepped back a little and drew from his belt a knife. For an instant they stood glaring at each other when we heard from a dozen revolvers, 'Click, click,' and we knew many Indians stood ready to defend their insolent brother.

"At that minute a white man appeared in the kitchen. We were astonished. Who was he and could he help us? We soon found that he could but did not know till later that he had only happened to come to the ranch and seeing the trouble had armed himself with a club from the woodpile. He raised his weapon and cried, The first one who touches these white women will be knocked down.' No one moved. There was an instant of perfect silence. The angry Indians stood motionless, looking from one to another. And then strange as it may seem to those unaccustomed to the ways of an Indian, all their weapons were slowly tucked away.

"Then Mrs. Johnson turned to me, 'Run as fast as you can down to Weavers and get help. See if the men won't come up.' About two miles distant was a camp of seven or eight bachelors. So the second time that day I started for help.

"As I went out the front way I passed a number of our trouble makers, who were busily helping themselves to articles from the yard. Some were pilfering in the barn, some were taking the clothes line while others were trying to fill our well with stones.

"Just back of the barn was a deep ravine, into which I sprang, keeping in it for some distance till I came to the road that led down to the Weaver place. After I had come out into the road and had gone about a half mile from our home, I saw a horseman coming rapidly towards me. My heart seemed to jump into my throat. The rider was hatless and I felt he must be an Indian. What was going to become of me? I knew there was nothing to do but face him but just then I saw he was our knight of the woodpile on Johnson's horse using his hat for a saddle and riding without a bridle.

" 'Come on back,' he called, 'I've just been down to Weavers and gathered up all the men I could. They are bringing their guns and plenty of ammunition. They will soon be here.'

"Then I knew that he too had slipped away and gone for help. He had gotten the horse from the pasture and had lost no time in doing his errand. I returned as I had gone by way of the ravine.

"Very soon seven or eight white men, all well armed, appeared and how glad we were to see them! We then felt as safe as if we had been surrounded by one of Uncle Sam's regiments.

"In a few minutes after the arrival of our good neighbors we noticed two redmen, one on the top of each of the two hills that arose close behind the house. These scouts were up there evidently to learn if anymore white men were to be expected upon the scene. Whatever they thought we never knew but after much mysterious signaling to the waiting hordes below we began to notice the crowds about the door were thinning and soon only a few Indians were to be seen in the yard. Slowly but surely the teepees were disappearing, the squaws taking them down and putting them onto poles, while the braves themselves went to bring the horses from the near-by pickets.

"Being still quite excited, Mrs. Johnson and I found it hard to keep still and so began preparing supper for our protectors, but when this was done and the men were eating I felt so very weary that I sat down in the doorway to watch our uninvited guests break camp.

"Two of them came to me and, as if not satisfied with my share of the day's work and hospitality, asked for more favors. One took a wash basin from a bench by the wall and made motions in it as if kneading bread and then held out to me some flour, but I shook my head pretending not to understand. The other fellow then offered me a small quantity of coffee and threw his arms about in the air as tho trying to imitate a coffee mill, but I still stupidly shook my head, for with all those white men sitting near I felt quite indifferent to the beggars. The last Indian gave me a look such as wily an Indian can give, muttered an oath and turned away and I soon had the pleasure of seeing him ride away with his companions.

"That evening when Mr. Johnson returned from Denver, we had a thrilling tale to tell but as we found next morning one more chapter was yet to come.

"The next morning about 9 o'clock as Mr. and Mrs. Johnson and I happened to be indoors, we saw several Indian chiefs riding up to the house. There were nine of them. We looked at them from behind some lace curtains — souvenirs from the East — and watched them as they slowly drew rein and sat in a solemn row along the yard fence, terrible in their war paint and with feathers in their hair. My! How frightened I was! This seemed worse than anything that had happened the day before. I believed that our time had now come.

"They sat quite still with their long lances held erect and resting near their knees, lances five feet long at least, with heart shaped heads or shaped like a spade.

"'You women stay in here,' said Mr. Johnson, 'and I'll go out and give them hell.' So out he rushed and in a loud voice demanded their reason for being there, and without waiting for their reply he told them that their men had the day before come here while he was away, come in a drunken state and had frightened his squaws, had made them work and that he thought it was a mean and a cowardly thing for Indians to act as they had.

"We heard and saw all from behind the lace curtains. I shall never forget the sight. Mr. Johnson, small of stature, alone and without any weapon defiantly facing those insolent angry warriors.

"He shouted at them that if fight was what they wanted to just come on, that he had his house full of men who were all ready for them. We knew that they did not fully understand him but by his forceful, angry words and gestures they were evidently convinced of his ability to resist them. 'When he had finished speaking they made no answer but exchanged glances with one another, smiled uneasily and then, after a minute of silence, the leader turned his horse and cantered slowly back up the road while all the others followed after him in true Indian style.

"You may be sure we were glad to see them go.

"Ten days after this incident Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had occasion to spend the day in Denver and had left the chore boy and me to look after affairs at the ranch.

"I spent an uneasy day for we had been told that in all probability these same Indians would be returning that week end from a trip in the mountains. It seems that they had gone up into the hills to secure lodge poles for their teepees and incidently to help themselves to a few of the ponies belonging to the Utes, a mountain tribe of Red men. These visits were made every year and the two tribes often had some lively skirmishes with one another. The ones who had visited us were the Plains Indians, the Sioux, the Araphoes and the Cheyennes.

"Having gathered all these facts I was not happy at being left alone at the ranch and so kept a sharp lookout on the road leading from Bradford Hill. The day was uneventful but just before sunset and while the boy was out in the pasture in search of the cows, I was terrified by seeing a long line of mounted Indians descending the hill about three miles distance. I was more frightened by that sight than I had ever been before in all my life. I hurriedly closed the doors and windows and started for the pasture. Suddenly recalling that I had been browning a pan of coffee, I thought I must put that away before they arrived, so I turned back, but in my haste and nervousness I spilled a quantity of the coffee into the water bucket that stood near the coffee can, but left it there to soak and hurried out to the pasture, for every minute was bringing nearer that dreaded band of savages.

"On meeting the boy returning with the cows I told him of the trouble. Together we followed the cows but just as we reached the yard we saw a white man coming toward us, and never was a face more welcome. He was our county sheriff, a Mr. Irvine, whom I knew and trusted. He was on his way to Denver and would be greatly obliged if we could give him a night's lodging.

" 'Don't worry about those Indians. Leave everything to me and all will be well,' he told us.

"So we all went into the house and without lighting our candles, watched and waited in silence. It was a bright moonlight night and about 8 o'clock we saw a group of Indians riding slowly down the road in front of the house. They were singing in their low, droning monotonous tones, seemingly happy and we guessed that their errands into the mountains had been fruitful, for we could see the loads of poles gleaming white in the moonlight, white where the bark had been stripped from them. Then there were a number of extra ponies and we knew that the poor Utes had suffered at their hands.

"But what interested us most was the fact that the cavalcade was passing by without even looking toward our house. Joyfully we watched while one group after another passed with only a short stop while they watered their ponies at the ford, riding almost silently into the moonilt stretches of the road that led to their prairie haunts and that was the last we ever saw of our unwelcome visitors."

The autumn that my mother was 80 years of age, my sisters, mother and I drove to Morrison to see if we might find a trace of the old William Johnson ranch, since in the 63 years that had elasped since the biscuit-baking experience it could be that things had changed there quite a bit.

We scanned the country about where Mother thought the ranch might have been but with little success. Nothing seemed familiar to her and as the afternoon grew late we decided to return to Denver and to start out early next morning, take our lunch, and scout about thru what seemed like an immense pasture, where there were few houses and the hogbacks all looked alike. Mother finally thought to reconstruct in her mind the horizons — the tops of the mountains which were all around the ranch and, at last, by doing this she came to a spot that seemed to be the very place. We might have opened a few pasture gates on our way, I don't seem to remember if we did, but at any rate just before noon we came to the spot that Mother thought was it.

We took our lunch out of the car, built a small campfire on the grassy land, and while walking about and waiting for our coffee to heat, we came upon a depression in the ground that had been the well, while scattered about were a few foundation stones of the Johnson house. Mother was more pleased with this discovery than she had been 63 years before to find the yard full of the 500 Indians.

While we were eating our sandwiches and drinking our coffee a horseback rider came down the canon, and coming to us, said, "Did you know you are trespassing here on private property? And no fires are allowed."

It was the Ken Caryl Ranch.

Of course, we apologized and explained our reason for being there. He was delighted then to meet Mother, and very kindly told us to remain as long as we wished and to enjoy our visit. He then rode off down the canon in search may be of other trespassers. It was not likely he found anyone else who had arrived there the summer of 1862.