By Mrs. A. B. Sidwell
(Written about 1889)
  1. The Pioneers Enter Sanpete Valley
  2. A Year of Privations
  3. The First Summer
  4. Health, Indians, Grist Mill
  5. Walker, the Crafty Indian Chief
  6. The Indians on the War Path
  7. The Indian Troubles Continue
  8. Novel Indian Move Gave Sanpete County Impetus
  9. Maniti's First Settlers
Chapter VII

The Indian Troubles Continue

Fountain Green Murders

The first of October, about a dozen horse teams loaded up with provisions, horse feed, and conference visitors anxious to again mingle with civilization, clasp hands with friends and relatives at Salt Lake, and also partake of the bread of life so freely dispensed in the Tabernacle. This company started for their destination in the fresh tracks of four ox teams that had started the day before laden with grain. The four men, teamsters and owners of their loads, were William Luke, Nelson Higgins, Thomas Clark, and William Reed; they had been advised to camp on Canal Creek, (Chester) and travel in company with the horse teams across the divide and through the canyon, but had continued their journey, so the conference folks did not find them at the appointed rendezvous. How numerous are the instances of disaster-even unto death, that had followed disobedience to the counsels of the Priesthood. We old veterans of the church have learned this through that constant repetition that children require to impress them with many necessary lessons of life. It is this foresight, this power manifested in even the minutest and seemingly unimportant events of life that give our people the name abroad, of slavish submission to the power of the church, not that I would insinuate or say, that every man who bears the Priesthood, and has a name among us, has honored that Priesthood or is worthy of implicit obedience; but it is not safe to despise the councils of those placed in authority. (I would as leave thrust my right hand into the fire as disobey my Bishop or President, or refuse to perform a duty assigned me so long as they are striving to honor the power conferred upon them by a still higher power.)

The horse teams did not find the freight teams at Canal Creek-but a little after noon as they drew near the Duck Springs, (now Fountain Green) they were descried in the distance ahead, but what a death like ominous silence surrounded the spot. The pale October sunshine played over the coverless bows and wheel less frames of the wagons, but there was no sign of life. George Peacock and another horseman-the vanguard of the company-rode toward the motionless bivouac. They paused by the roadside-with faces blanched they turned back; women fainted or breathed suppressed screams, while frightened children sobbed; the men grasped their guns and sprang out of the wagons, as the guard rode up and made the announcement that there was "trouble ahead," and told of the ghastly spectacle that awaited the sight of the distracted travelers. Slowly the wagons advanced to where lay the body of William Reed, stripped of every shred of clothing, scalped, and disemboweled his white flesh like marble as he lay by the side of the road, stiff and stark in death. The writer will never forget the ghastly sight. He had run about a hundred yards back on the road to Manti before the fatal bullet stopped his race for life.

And though nature herself seemed hushed in dumb horror, every soul in the train momentarily expected to hear the crack of the unerring rifle and the whiz of the death dealing bullet. The bodies of Nelson and Luke were found near the wagons. Brother Luke was on his way to Salt Lake to meet his three sons who had just arrived with the European immigration. Thomas Clark could not be found, and strong hopes were entertained that he had made his escape to Salt Creek, (Nephi).

The teams halted and one of the wagons was speedily relieved of its occupants; they, with the load being transferred and disbursed among the other wagons in the train; and the bodies of the three murdered men were placed in the bottom of the empty wagon for transportation to Salt Creek. During the transfer and loading of the mangled remains, oppressive silence like that of the grave had continued unbroken, save by the smothered sobs and moans of the women and children and the suppressed voices of the men as some order was necessarily given. But now as the train prepared to continue its melancholy journey, the hillside suddenly resounded with savage whoops, and shouts of defiance and derision reached the ears of the horror stricken and helpless company. Numerous dusky forms could be seen passing to and fro among the cedars with which the hillsides were thickly studded, waving their blankets and gloating over the horrible deed they had just committed.

Some persons could not refrain from uttering the wish that they had a bottle of arsenic to sift over the wheat which these fiendish wretches had poured upon the ground, every sack having been ripped open and removed. The company proceeded on their way anxiously looking for traces of the missing man, who was young and of promising abilities.

Arriving at Salt Creek, no joyful tiding greeted their ears. An express was immediately dispatched to Manti with orders to keep on the west side of Sanpitch River and look for the missing man, as Judge Peacock, who was his half brother, still thought it possible he might have made his escape in that direction, saying "He was a splendid runner and long winded". But alas for human hopes, he was doomed to bear the heart rending tidings to his disconsolate mother whose home was in “the City". His body was afterward discovered where it had been buried beneath the grain which the murderers, in their haste had emptied over it. His remains were brought to Manti and interred in the cemetery while the others found a resting place at Salt Creek.

President Young had, just previous to this, sent a reinforcement of men from Salt Lake to assist the settlement in standing guard and harvesting the grain. He also recommended that they send all their young stock and other cattle not absolutely required for constant use, to "the City" for safety from Indian depredations (they considering themselves quite safe, having built a "Spanish wall” around their city, the entire length of said Spanish wall being 9 miles in length). The stock was accordingly sent; and that was the last we ever saw of our cattle.

The following spring Judge Peacock was authorized by the citizens of Manti to go to the City and dispose of them, which duty he performed to the best possible advantage and interest of the owners.

January 6, 1854, the Allred settlement, (Springtown) Sanpete County, which had been deserted by its inhabitants the previous summer because of Indian troubles, was burned to the ground." (Church Chro. page 46.) And so the work of devastation went on.


"Jan. 29, 1855, Walker, Chief of the Utah Indians, died at Meadow Creek, Millard County. His brother Arrapeen succeeded him as chief."

Don't put this obituary in mourning Mr. Editor, for now peace was established between the Red men and the White. Yes, Peace! gentle white winged placid Peace once more beamed, and prosperity spread her broad mantle over the valley of Sanpete.

Springtown and Pleasant Creek were rebuilt, and Manti began to spread herself and extend her borders beyond the limited bounds of "Stone Quarries," "Stone Forts," "Log Forts," and "Little Forts" and has continued slowly but steadily to increase in growth, strength and influence, and it is to be hoped in wisdom also, up to the present time.


The Story of President Morley's Baby

Old Walker and his braves were on the warpath. Manti times were disquieting, and rumors had come to the struggling Mormon colonists that their homes were to be razed to the ground. But, as yet, nothing serious had occurred.

One evening, however, Chief Walker strode into the little settlement, accosted President Morley and demanded that his (President Morley's) little son, a beautiful child with dark, curly hair and laughing brown eyes, should be given into Chief Walker's custody overnight. A promise was given that no attack should be made and that the baby would not be harmed if the request was granted.

The mother of the child flatly refused to sacrifice her babe. President Morley, however, told his wife that it was better that one person should perish, if need be, than that the whole colony should be destroyed. Chief Walker, therefore, very much pleased, carried President and Sister Morley's baby to his wigwam.

All night long the frenzied mother paced the floor. Little was her faith in the promise of the crafty Indian Chief that her baby would be safe. Morning came at last, and with it, Chief Walker. Contrary to his habitual custom of not fulfilling his pledges, the baby was spared and the town was saved.

The Story of Brockley

Viola Bramwell.

Brockley was an Indian warrior, so called because his face was pockmarked by a powder explosion. His papoose became ill with the measles, a disease which the "pale face" had brought to the red man. The medicine man failing to cure the disease, Brockley went to Dr. Richards, a physician sent out by President Brigham Young, to aid the saints in Manti. Dr. Richards was not at home, but his wife, understanding more or less her husbands methods, gave Brockley a vial of some mild medicine.

After administering the medicine to his child, Brockley noticed a strange symptom, the papoose's toes began to turn up. Thinking tha this child was dying, the Indian became mad with rage. He chased from street to street seeking Mrs. Richards and threatening to kill her. The doctor's wife, hearing his angry cries, fled from her home, dodged in and out of the small shacks with Brockley following her.

Exhausted, Mrs. Richards ran into the home of a Mrs. Brown. This lady was fortunate in having both a shack and a lean-to in which to live, thus having the use of two doors. Mrs. Richards ran in, panting, "Save me, save me!"

Mrs. Brown told the tired woman to hide in her lean-to and she would keep the revengeful Indian out in some way. Then closing the door between the two rooms, she placed a huge box in front and sat down with her sewing. Presently in came Brockley, swearing, and yelling terribly, demanding to know where the doctor's wife was. Mrs. Brown, with a beating heart, tried to sooth him with kind words, telling him that he might search her room. Accordingly he did so but finding nothing and being tired of his futile efforts, he went home in a very sulky humor.

Arriving there, he found his baby very much improved. Consequently, his temper vanished.

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