The last one to bid Chiquita "adios" was Antelope. He had little to say, but averred he would continually seek the aid of all the Ute gods, big and little, to bring the heart of Chiquita to Antelope's tepee.
"Antelope will wait many, many snows and take no other maiden," were his parting words.
The restraining influence which Chiquita and Yamanatz exerted vanished very soon with their departure from the reservation. Susan at once commenced to be vindictive, as jealousy and revenge gnawed at her heart. Chagrined and disappointed at the turn of affairs in the competition by the young bucks for their brides, she coquetted with Johnson, well knowing that in him she would find an acquiescent if not an aggressive leader. Furthermore, he was the brother-in-law of Ouray and considered one of the greatest of Douglas' band of great warriors and fighters. She soon became, in fact, Johnson's squaw, and no one in all the Ute tribe was more regal in dress nor feared more as an enemy than Susan. Her silver girdles, beaded buckskins, elk-tooth necklaces and other feminine accessories were the envy of squaws, whose chiefs were also envious of Johnson—aye, even of any one of Douglas's band of braves.
While the races and general carnival were in progress at the Agency a portion of this renegade band had wandered far out in the plains one hundred miles east of Denver, near Cheyenne Wells, where they quarreled with and murdered Joe McLane, of Chicago, and fled back to the reservation through Middle Park—Colorow, Washington, Shavano and Piah. Washington was wounded and had his arm in a sling when they met the outgoing party, of which Charley Rogers, Jack, Yamanatz and Chiquita were members, then camped on the Frazier River. Colorow offered no explanation of whence they came nor their object, but all four were in a hurry and hastened along through the Park.
Arriving on the Blue, where old man Elliott peaceably conducted a ranch and with whom the Indians had been on good terms for years, they murdered him in cold blood and left immediately for the Agency.
Upon their arrival it did not take long to start the undercurrent of open revolt. Susan enlisted the sympathies of Jane, a vicious squaw, whose husband had a great many ponies. Jane had selected a fine piece of pasture land and under the rights of an Indian "squatted" upon the land in question. It was the best land near the Agency, and Meeker decided to use it for cultivation and to "school" the Utes in the use of the plow. Jane objected, and quarrel after quarrel took place, Douglas even going so far as to assault Agent Meeker in his (Meeker's) own home.
A compromise was seemingly effected by which Jane was to get another piece of land for her pasture and Meeker again set the plow to going, only to have the man in charge of the work shot at by two bucks who were concealed in the sage brush. Meeker had repeatedly asked aid of both state and Federal government. He begged for troops, as the lives of the white people were in peril. As the aged philanthropist listened to the council held in a smoke-smothered lodge, where warrior after warrior gave utterance to his opinion in a language absolutely unintelligible to any but a Ute, and when at last Douglas made his measured, forcible, irresistible appeal to his brother savages to resist the onward march of the white people, he (Meeker) must have known his doom was at hand. Signal fires were constantly seen as night came on, and the murmur of discontent increased with the uncertainty.
Finally word came that troops were on the way. Captain Payne with colored, and Major Thornburg with white troops had been despatched to the Agency. The morning of September 30, 1879, saw the White River plateau under sunny skies—the air was warm and inviting. Twenty or thirty bucks of Douglas's band sauntered forth as though in quest of venison, others of the various bands had been out among the hills on similar errands, and it was not unusual for the majority of the whole Ute nation to be scattered throughout the reservation even beyond the lines for short periods.
Susan, Jane, Antelope and a few others wandered about the Agency buildings laughing, chattering and in the best of spirits. All seemed happy, Susan especially, and Antelope had not been so gay for a long time.
Still there was an ominous phase to their very good humor. It had that practical joke fatality which foreboded evil in every smile and made the heart sick for those who watched the sage-covered mesa and feathery clouds which floated from range to range. But a few miles away toward the Red Cañon on Milk Creek the troops were hastening. As the advance line swung up to the narrow gorge a few Indians in warpaint suddenly came into view. The cavalry made an attempt to flank the defile and thus saved the entire command from being literally shot to pieces by Indians surrounding the open death trap into which they would have marched.