This was an unexpected phase to the affair. While we were making extra preparations for war, there came a truce. I sent Mitchell, my brave and efficient officer of the guard, with two Sioux half-bred interpreters to ascertain the meaning of this overture. They found, on reaching the ground, a letter stuck in a stick, and directed to me. Without pausing to converse with the Indians, who were a few rods distant, my assistant returned to camp with the letter. That letter appeared to have been written by a white woman, a captive in the hands of the Indians, and read as follows:
“Makatunke says he will not fight wagons, for they have been fighting two days. They had many killed by the goods they brought into camp. They tell me what to write. I do not understand them. I was taken by them July 12. They say for the soldiers to give forty head of cattle.
“Hehutalunca says he fights not, but they have been fighting. Be kind to them, and try to free me, for mercy’s sake.
“I was taken by them July 12.
(Signed) “Mrs. Kelly.”“Buy me if you can, and you will be satisfied. They have killed many whites. Help me if you can.
“Unkpapas (they put words in, and I have to obey) they say for the wagons they are fighting for them to go on. But I fear the result of this battle. The Lord have mercy on you. Do not move.”
I replied to this letter as follows:
“Mrs. Kelly:
“If you are really a white woman captive in the hands of these Indians, I shall be glad to buy you and restore you to your friends, and if a few unarmed Indians will deliver you at the place where your letter was received, I will send there for them three good American horses, and take you to our camp.
“I can not allow any party of Indians, few or many, to come to my train, or camp, while in this country.
“Tell them I shall move when I get ready, and halt as long as I think proper. I want no advice or favor from the Indians who attacked, but am prepared to fight them as long as they choose to make war. I do not, in the least, fear the result of this battle.
“Hoping that you may be handed to us at once for the offer I have made,
“I am truly,
(Signed)“Jas. L. Fisk, Capt. Comd’g.”
The above letter was sent back by the Indian messenger, and we awaited the result. In the afternoon we received the following reply:
“I am truly a white woman, and now in sight of your camp, but they will not let me go. They say they will not fight, but don’t trust them. They say, ‘How d’ye do.’ They say they want you to give them sugar, coffee, flour, gunpowder, but give them nothing till you can see me for yourself, but induce them, taking me first. They want four wagons, and they will stop fighting. They want forty cattle to eat; I have to write what they tell me. They want you to come here—you know better than that. His name Chatvaneo and the other’s name Porcupine. Read to yourself, some of them can talk English. They say this is their ground. They say, ‘Go home and come back no more.’ The Fort Laramie soldiers have been after me, but they (the Indians) run so; and they say they want knives and axes and arrow-iron to shoot buffalo. Tell them to wait and go to town, and they can get them. I would give them any thing for liberty. Induce them to show me before you give any thing. They are very anxious for you to move now. Do not, I implore you, for your life’s sake.
“Fanny Kelly.
“My residence formerly Geneva, Allen County, Kansas.”
I returned by the Indian the following reply:
“Dear Madam:
“Your second communication convinces me that you are what you profess to be, a captive white woman, and you may be assured that myself and my party are eager for release, but for the present I can not accede to the demands, or gratify the wants of your captors. We are sent on an important trust and mission, by order of the great War Chief at Washington, westward to the mountain region, with a small party of well-armed and determined men, feeling entirely capable of defending ourselves; but we are not a war party, and our train is not intended for war purposes. Powder and shot we have, but no presents for the hostile Indians.
“I am an officer of the Government, but am not authorized, by my instructions to give any thing but destruction to Indians who try to stop me on my march. However, I will, for your release, give three of my own horses, some flour, sugar, and coffee, or a load of supplies. Tell the Indians to go back for the night, and to-morrow at noon, if they will send you with five men to deliver you to my soldiers on the mound we occupied to-day, their main body not to advance beyond their present position, I will hand over to them the horses and provisions, which they will be permitted to take away to their headquarters.
“Should there be occasion, the same opportunity for communicating will be granted to-morrow.
“The Great Spirit tells me that you will yet be safely returned to your friends, and that all wrongs that have been committed on the defenseless and innocent shall be avenged.
“In warmest sympathy, I am, Madam,
“Jas. L. Fisk,
“Capt. and A. Q. M. U. S. A.”
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