INDIANS STEALING MY HORSES.
In the month of August, 1871, I went near the mouth of Sun river to make hay. John Traxler, the man I had hired, was with me. I had a very fine span of gray mares which were brought to Montana from the State of Missouri, and they had cost me three hundred dollars. We pitched our tent on the open prairie and away from the brush, for it was a safer place in an Indian country, beside the mosquitoes were very bad. Each of us had an old army needle gun with several rounds of ammunition. When night came we picketed the horses about five hundred yards off where there was good grass; the picket pins were iron and the ropes were new, so we had the horses well secured. We went to bed and covered our heads to keep the mosquitoes from biting us. When morning came I went to change the pickets for the horses so that they could get fresh grass, and John went to prepare breakfast. But to my surprise the horses were gone, and on investigation I found that the ropes had been cut near the picket pins, I decided at once that they had been stolen and so reported to John. He could see that I was feeling very badly over losing my fine team. “Well,” he said, “I will let you have all the money I’ve got to get another team.” After breakfast and discussing what was best to do, we went to see in what direction the horses had been taken. We found moccasin tracks near where the horses had been picketed, and we tracked them going north. It was plain to be seen that Indians were the thieves. John went up the valley and I took the direction the horses had gone, each of us taking his gun and ammunition; we soon lost sight of each other. After I had gone about four miles, and on the flat north of Alkali Springs, I found the tracks of the horses and they were very plain, for the gray mares were shod. Going a little further I discovered where they had been changing saddles, for there were pieces of buffalo robes and old Indian blankets that were full of horse hair and wet with sweat from horses; no doubt there the change had been made from the Indian ponies to the gray mare. I followed the tracks crossing the Benton road and in the direction of the Teton river. After traveling in a northerly direction for fifteen miles I changed my course and headed for the ranch. I was eight miles from home. I got home in the afternoon and found John there. Early next morning I went to Fort Shaw and told my story to the commanding officer, who was General Gibbon. He at once called for Bostwick, the interpreter, and asked him what Indians were camping up the valley. Bostwick replied that they were Gray Eagle’s party. “Go and bring Gray Eagle here to me,” the general said. Bostwick, with six mounted men, went after the old chief, and in about three hours they had him and two of his staff in the general’s headquarters. The general told Gray Eagle (through Bostwick, the interpreter), that some of his men had stolen my horses and if they were not returned immediately that he and his people would be severely punished, and he further said that he was in this country with his soldiers to look after such thieves as they. The old Indian listened eagerly, and said, that he was very sorry that my horses had been stolen; but he assured us that there were none of his men out that night, and said in the most emphatic manner that none of his men stole the horses; but that he would do all in his power to find them and bring them back to me. After considerable discussion about the matter, the general told the chief that if he would get those horses and bring them to the fort that he would give him a sack of sugar, and I said that I would give a sack of flour. Again the general said: “If you let me know who stole Mr. Vaughn’s horses, I will give you a sack of coffee and a sack of bacon.”
The old Indian promised faithfully that he would do all in his power to find the horses. However, after eleven days from the time the horses were stolen, the morning of the twelfth, the first thing after opening my cabin door was to see the two gray mares feeding on the grass only a few yards from my door. And I was a happy man. No one asked for the reward. That was the only time the Indians ever stole anything from me.
Robert Vaughn.
Jan. 25, 1898.