Forty Years Among the Indians / A true yet thrilling narrative of the author's experiences among the natives

by Daniel W. Jones

I was informed by Joe that I could talk. I spoke to them about half an hour, telling them that, notwithstanding all the trouble and war, the good Mormons were still their friends; that Brigham had always desired peace and was sorry that any of his people wanted to fight the Indians. After saying what I thought was safe, for I knew the delicacy of the subject, as some of the Indians had been killed by such as professed to be Mormons, and I was careful not to push the subject too far in my first attempt, I desired to hear Tabby talk.

I knew he was much respected by his people, also that he was not inclined to war, but had accepted the situation and let things run, neither taking an active part in killing and stealing, nor making any great effort to stop the war. He was very sore about the killing of his half brother while a prisoner. I, myself, considered this somewhat treacherous on the part of those who did it.

Capt. Joe seemed to think he must do all the talking for the Indians. No one else spoke. Joe urged me to say more. I told him I wanted to hear Tabby. The old fellow laid down, as much as to say, "I will not take part in this." The act nettled me considerably, and I told Joe I would not talk unless Tabby did. Tabby grunted out that he was an old man, and chief; that Joe was a little captain and young, and was good enough to talk to me. This made me mad. I got up and told Tabby that I was more of a man than he or any of his men ever were; that they had been born and raised in Uintah, and none of them had ever been brave or strong enough to cross the snow mountains, but had laid there shut up winter after winter like women; that I had done what none of them could do, and had done it to keep my word with them; that they had agreed if I would be their friend and tell "Washington" their grievances that they would listen to me and make peace.

When I got through, Tabby got up and said, "You talk big for a boy. I know you have strong legs and a good belly, for I have seen you eat. But I want to know where your grey hairs are, that give wisdom. You had better wait a few years before you talk." I really felt small under this sarcasm. He further said, "You have spoke about the Indians stealing from the Mormons. I can answer that by saying some of the Mormon Bishops helped the agents to steal what 'Washington' sends us. While some of Brigham's Bishops steal, I do not. Neither does Tom and many others; but we have staid at home and worked and hunted. It is the bad Indians that will not listen to me, that steal." He then named some twelve or fourteen present whom he said stole from the Mormons and made the trouble.

He continued, "I have told them it is wrong; now you may talk to them and make them good if you can. I am not bad and do not steal, so you do not need to talk to me."

I held several meetings and cultivated on every opportunity the personal friendship of the Indians, especially the raiders, talking kindly to them and gaining their confidence and good-will. At length, one night, the bad Indians were induced to talk. They related many things about their raids; each in turn told something of his experience, entering into details. How they felt, and giving the causes of their ill-feelings. Each taking his turn in talking, said that hunger often caused them to go on raids to get cattle to eat, always making the statement that the agents stole what "Washington" sent them; that Mormons helped the agents to steal; that the Sanpete Mormons had stolen their country and fenced it up. The lands that their fathers had given them had been taken for wheat fields. When they asked the Mormons for some of the bread raised on their lands, and beef fed on their grass, the Mormons insulted them, calling them dogs and other bad names. They said when the Mormons stole big fields and got rich, other Mormons, who were poor, had to buy the land from them, they were not allowed to steal it from the first owners, the same as the first Mormons stole it from the Indians.

I have often wondered how these statements will be answered. They are still open. I never could answer them like many other propositions I have had to meet while laboring among the Indians. I have had to give it up acknowledging that they had been wronged. All I could do was to get their hearts set right and then teach them magnanimity.

Some may jeer at this idea, but I have found more nobility of character among the Indians than what is common among many whites, even Mormons included.

In explanation of their accusing some of the Mormon Bishops of helping to rob them, it had been told to them how the agents managed to get certain ones to sign false vouchers for flour and beef Whether this was true or not the Indians fully believed that it was. I found evidences afterwards that at least looked like their accusations were well founded. All who are acquainted with Indian character know that a trader who deals liberally with the natives can hold a great influence over them. The Utes were great traders at that time, having a great many skins and furs to barter. They urged me to come and trade with them. This could only be done by buying out the trader and getting the appointment. So I bought out the trader, conditionally, with the hopes of getting the post tradership. In this I failed.

The friendship of the agent was only politic for the time being. His endeavors to keep me out of the situation were successful. Mine to bring about a permanent peace and get the Indians better provided for were also successful, probably much more so than if I had been allowed the trader's position.