"a dweller on the path by the
hedge"
A Trip Across the Plains - 1858-59
by: Joel Hedgpeth D. D.
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This is not intended to be a fancy sketch of an ideal trip across the great
plains in the earlier days of California but is a plain narration of events as
they actually occured, and as remembered by this writer.As I am writing from memory I shall not attempt to narrate all or nearly
all the incidents of the somewhat remarkable and, to me, very interesting journey
to this state nearly a decade after the discovery of gold in the Land of the West.The company or train of which I write started from Nodaway County, Missouri
in the early part of April 1858. The company consisted of Judge Gillum Baley
and family, his brother, W. Right Baley and family, Judge Joel Hedgpeth (my
father) and family, Thomas R. Hedgpeth (my oldest brother) and family, together
with seven or eight men employed to help drive the cattle. The party crossed the
Missouri River at St. Joseph on April 22, 1858 and struck out across the broad
rolling prairies of Kansas. Those magnificent high undulating plains, covered
with a crop of exquisitely fine green grass from six inches to two feet high,
were certainly almost as beautiful am object as the human eye ever looked upon
this side of the City of God. Our company chose to come the southern route
(through Kansas, New Mexico and Arizona) on account of the war between the U.S.
Government and the Mormons that year in Utah. We intersected the old Santa Fe
and Independence road to the East of Council Grove having come through Topeka,
the capitol of Kansas.In our travel through Kansas we met with no thrilling adventures except an
occasional buffalo hunt which seemed to be very exciting to the parties engaged
in the sport -- the hunt. One hunt I well remember and shall not forget. That
hunt was on Sunday. We did not usually travel on Sundays but that day it seemed
necessary to travel part of the day at least to find suitable camping place.
Father had somewhat sharply - but wisely - chided the boys for recklessly running
the horses. That day he chose to ride horseback and the animal he rode was my
saddle horse; we called him Pioneer. During the travel that day someone found
a buffalo and started in pursuit, Father joined in the chase and succeeded - on
Pioneer - in getting near enough the buffalo to deliver several telling shots
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with his pistol. The buffalo was killed and part of it brought into camp. When
Father rode up I heard Mother say to him very quietly and pleasantly, "Didn't
you know this is Sunday?" Father threw up his hands -- almost in horror -- and ex-
claimed, "Well, I forgot all about it being Sunday." And I'm sure this he never
forgot until he joined the great Sabbath Anthem on High.While the four families, first mentioned, traveled together alone, Judge
Gillum Baley was regarded, by a sort of tacit consent, as the captain or leader
of the train. And here let me say the brothers, Gillum and Right Baley were called
by all the younger members of the company (except their own children) simply Uncle
Gillum and Uncle Right and so they continued to be called while they remained on
earth among men and some of us call them still. My father was "Uncle Joel" to
all the company, young and old, except his own children and grand-children. Dur-
ing our journey through Kansas we fell in with other trains or parties, mostly
from Iowa, consisting in part of Daley, Holland, McCoy, Brown and Jones also L.
J. Rose, who afterwards became well known in Los Angeles, together with their
families. E. W. Holland of that family, then a little boy, is now, or was recently,
a high-minded gentleman and successful attorney of Sonora, California.It was about this time in our journey when Thomas (my oldest brother) caught
a little buffalo calf which he brought with him until near the Colorado River
when it was killed by the Indians.When we reached Albuquerque, New Mexico we were advised by army officers to
take a new route, recently explored, near 35th parallel, to the Colorado River,
which advice was followed. That route was nearly where the Santa Fe RR now runs.
On the journey westward from Albuquerque we saw many things that to us were strange
and interesting. The most striking of which, perhaps, was the Pueblo de Zuni -
an Indian town with about 3000 semi-civilized people. The streets of the town
were very narrow, none of them, I think, being more than ten feet wide. The houses
were built of sun dried bricks -- adobes -- and were two stories high though perhaps
not more than twelve or fifteen feet in altitude. But the most striking thing to
me about the place was the Albinos among its people. These Albinos were about as
white as a tallow candle. Some of them were grown men, but I saw children of this
color in families the other members of which were as dark as the Indians of Cali-
fornia. The two story houses answered an excellent purpose when Zuni was surrounded
by the Savage Navajose or Apaches. The lower story of these houses was used as a
sheep corral and the upper one as a dwelling. When the Zunies were attacked by
the wild Indians they would rush their sheep and other stock into the first story
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then climb into the second story bt a ladder pulling the ladder up after them,
and shoot arrows at the foe from their dwellings. Thus literally defending their
homes and firesides.Just here I will relate an incident that may interest some. When we reached
the head waters of the Verde River - near where Flagstaff, Arizona now stands -
one night there came up a very severe rain storm and the thunder roared and boomed and
rang and echoed among the mountains as I had never heard thunder before and have never
since. When the storm was over and the clouds had drifted away the moon shone
out with an almost dazzling brightness, there appeared in the heavens an exqui-
sitely beautiful lunar rainbow. The first and, I believe, the last I ever saw.
The next night after the storm we camped at LaRue Spring near the base of San
Francisco Peak. We stayed at the spring a week or more and, while we camped at
the spring (which afforded water for the stock) my two older brothers, myself and
a few others ascended the peak which is 12,000 feet above ocean level and 6,000
feet above our camp. Just north of the summit there was a field of snow and ice -
perhaps ten acres. This was in July 1858. From the summit of the mountain we
could see many objects a hundred miles away or more. We could see the green
ribbon that marked the course of the Little Colorado. From the highest peak we
rolled a huge boulder - weighing perhaps a ton - and watched it plunge and leap
and crash down the mountain side. Continuing our journey westward we traveled
over a high, dry plain covered with scrubby cedar and juniper trees and a fairly
good supply of bunch grass, so that our stock kept almost fat. Before breaking
up camp at La Rue Spring, Thomas Hedgpeth and our Mexican guide (Jose Savedra)
rode on ahead for a day's journey to prospect road. On this prospecting
journey, Brother Tom killed a bear at a fine spring some twenty-five or thirty
miles from our camp, where we all camped the first night from San Francisco moun-
tain.In the early part of August, we reached a chain of mountains (rough and rocky)
about 30 miles east of the Colorado River. At this time the train owned by Mr.
L. J. Rose and managed by Mr. Brown, was half a day's travel ahead of us and went
on to the river that night. We reached a spring of water in the mountains about
midnight and finding our cattle so tired and footsore that it was thought best to
send the cattle on to the river until they could rest and recuperate and then
bring back the work cattle for our wagons left at the springs. Father, myself,
Brother William and a few other men remained with these wagons and six or seven
families of women and children. Among those who remained at the mountain spring
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was a German family named Bentnor (consisting of a man, his wife and a daughter,
nearly grown, and some small children). In a day or two this German who had a
mule team with him determined to go on to the river with his family alone. Mr.
Krug (a young German gentleman of our company) remonstrated with him for going
thus alone and warned him that the Indians might prove hostile but he would go.
After his family left our camp none of its members were ever seen or heard of
more except that on the day of the fight with the Indians two young men went out
hunting a few miles from camp, found the body of the German girl with her
clothes nearly all torn off from her. They hastened to camp with the awful news
and just got there in time for the encounter with the red skins; so that star-
tling events were crowding upon each other in rapid succession.Meanwhile, we at the mountain spring were just waiting. It was during this
wait that the historic fight between the Majave (or Mahave) Indians and a part
of our company occurred, on the east bank of the Colorado River, at a point
nearly opposite where the line between California and Nevada strikes that river -
where Mohave City (or town) now stands. The fighting party at the river con-
sisted of 22 white men, among whom I think there were no cowards. One of those
white men (young Mr. Jones) had been severely wounded by Ceanion Indians some
weeks before, so that he was out of the fight. The Company had their wagons
semi-circled on the river and those were the only defense - except their own good
shooting irons and their own brave hearts.On August 17th (I think it was) at about 2 p.m., the Mojave Indians, near
eight hundred strong, with terrific war whoops attempted to rush into the wagons,
but were met by such a fearful, rapid and killing fire that they recoiled and
retired into the bushes for a time, but for three hours or more they again and
again tried to rush the wagons but were repulsed each time with fearful losses
to themselves. The Indians were only armed with bows and arrows, while the
white men were well supplied with shot guns and revolvers. The Indians came so
near in their savage rushes that our men could hardly miss them. Just before
the first attack was made Mr. Brown was riding out among the cattle under the
trees and hearing the savages coming rode for the camp while the Indians were
shooting arrows through his body. He reached the wagons, dismounted and called
for his gun but died almost immediately so that he too was out of the fight
leaving only twenty men to meet the yelling savages but they did it bravely.
As the fight began brother Thomas ran about a hundred yards to a tree where a
fine young mare was tied and brought her to the wagon safely, amid the
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arrows and yells of the hooting demons who ran after him almost to the camp.
Someone observed that he was a little fool to risk his life for an animal. He
replied, "A man had about as well be killed as be left in this wild savage
country without any horse." During the fight he had two arrows shot through the
flesh of his left arm at the elbow. Twelve or thirteen others were wounded during
the conflict. A young man standing by Brother Lewis received a shot in the
temple, the arrow passing so near my brother's face that the feather on it brushed
his nose. Among the wounded, W. R. Baley (Uncle Right) received an arrow in his
thigh inflicting a painful wound. Towards the close of the conflict Judge Baley
(Uncle Gillum, we called him) seeing a prominent looking Indian, who seemed to be
directing and urging on the others, leveled on him with his rifle and brought him
to the ground. Soon after this the savages ceased yelling and went away. Among
the incidents of that fight this story was told of Tom Billings (perhaps the
youngest man in the encounter). When the fight began (runs the story) Tom took
a position near a wagon wheel where he could rest his pistol on the spokes, and
there he prayed and cried - but never forgot to shoot - and the narrative added -
"whenever Tom's pistol barked an Indian went dead." He was an excellent shot. I
had practiced with him many a day and whether praying, crying or shooting Tom was
a brave boy.Army officers, who obtained their information from the Indians themselves,
said the savages had sixty or more killed in the battle. When the fight was over
it was found that most of our stock was gone - driven away by the Indians during
the encounter. It was thought to be impossible to cross the river in face of
that horde of red savages, so when night had fallen, that heroic band of men and
women, having committed the body of Mr. Brown to the waters of the river, gathered
the remnants of the stock together, selected a few wagons from the large number of
splendid ones there and started that night for our camp on the mountains. The
next day Brother Thomas came on ahead to bring us the news of the disaster. I
well remember his arrival. Father had walked out to an eminence that enabled
him to see down the road some distance. I was near him when we saw Tom coming.
My brother was a splendid horseman - no Spanish cavalier of the olden times ever
sat his horse more knightly than he. But that day - Oh, that day! How different!
He was riding the animal that he had risked his life to save the day before. He
was sick from riding in the sun and weak from the loss of blood. His left arm was
swinging in a big white handkerchief, that had many blood stains on it. He seemed
almost as limber as a wet dish rag. All his starch and usual knightly dignity
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were gone. Father walked on to meet him and exclaimed, "Well, Tom, I see something
awful has happened. What is it? Are the rest killed?" Tom replied rather
slowly, "No, only Mr. Brown is killed but a dozen or fifteen others are wounded,
myself among them and the Indians have taken nearly all the cattle." The faith
of my father's reply, like that of Job's has been ringing in my soul all these
years. Looking Tom in the face Father said, "Well, thank God the boys are not
killed and the Lord will take care of us somehow." Brother Thomas was helped
from his horse and taken care of by his wife and mother. Perhaps the two best
friends that any man ever had - except the Divine Father. That night I heard
Mother sobbing quietly and Father said to her, "Don't cry. Don't cry Jane, the
Lord will provide for us in some way."On the east side of the Colorado mountains as we started back we were met by
a train or company in charge of Mr. Cave, consisting of five or six families -
the Caves (Graves?), Perkins, McCoys, Hamiltons, Odells and perhaps others. In a
short time we were met by another train owned and controlled by the brothers
E. O. and T. O. Smith. But even with these reinforcements it was not thought
practicable or even possible to cross the river against so large a number of
hostile savages. So it was agreed to try to go back to Albuquerque - the nearest
place where we could find inhabitants. Then was commenced a somewhat famous
retreat some of the painful incidents and accidents of which live in my memory
still. The history of that retreat is to me more thrilling than Xenophon's from
Persia, or Napelon's from Moscow. Our bread stuff soon gave out (for those of
us who had more divided with those who had less) and for about six weeks we lived
on just beef, only that and nothing more until we reached the Indian town of
Suni (?) where we found breadstuff and other provisions. These Indians were very
kind to us giving us kindly such things as they had and here let me add, most of
the men who had not lost their cattle by the Mohave Indians were generous in
dividing with those who had. This was especially true of the Smith Brothers.
They were real men - kind and generous to the last. On that painful journey the
women were as heroic as the men many of them walking most of the time day after
day week after week.Among the thrilling and exciting incidents of the journey, not by any means
the least, was the losing from the train (for a time) of Miss Eleanor C. Baley
(now Mrs. McCardle) daughter of Judge Gillum Baley, whom we called simply Ellen
for short. We were traveling one night (on account of the heat of the day)
through a cactus desert plateau and stopped to rest for a few minutes. On
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resuming the journey and traveling perhaps a mile when it was discovered that
Ellen was missing. Her father and brother George started at once - on the
run - to where the train had stopped but did not find her there. In the short
interval of rest she had lain down in the road and on waking up had started to
run but at right angles to the road we were traveling. Her brother first heard
her calling "O--Pop --O - Pop." Her father immediately answered and kept call-
ing to her until he caught up with her and brought her back to the train to the
great joy of all who knew about the incident. Before reaching Albuquerque we
were met by a party of U. S. soldiers with wagons and provisions, under command
of Sargent Glenn of Company E - 3rd Reginment U. S. Infantry.We spent the winter of 1858 and 1859 in the town - or city - of Albuquerque.
During our stay in that place I came to know a few men who were already famous,
or became so in after years. Among them General Bonneville - a Frenchman by
birth (I think) who came to America when young, entered the U. S. Army, became
Captain, and suddenly disappeared among the Indians on the frontier. After
several years he again turned up, was restored to the army and became a briga-
dier general and was in command of the military department - or district - of
New Mexico. His adventures (or supposed adventures) among the Indians became
the basis of some of the novel writtings of Washington Irving. Another, Col.
Miles who was killed at Harper's Ferry when "Stonewall" Jackson captured that
place during the "War between the States." Major D. H. Rucker was quarter
master of the post at Albuquerque while we were there. He afterwards became
Quarter Master General of the U. S. Army. His daughter became the wife of Gen.
Phil Sheridan. Colonel Loring who lost an arm in Mexico was commandant at Fort
Union. He afterwards entered the Confederate service and became a general. After
the close of the war between the states Loring went to Egypt and was made com-
mander of the Kledive's Military forces in the country.In the spring of 1859 Brother Thomas returned to Missouri. Father and
family (also Mr. Odell and family) came towards California (over the route we
had already traveled twice) in company with Lt. E. F. Beale of the U. S. N., later
General Beale and afterwards Minister to Austria under President Grant.On our second journey westward we were met by Mr. Bishop near the San
Francisco mountains, who had come out from California to bring some supplies
to Lt. Beale. Mr. Bishop had ten or a dozen camels with him as pack animals.
These animals had been imported from the Orient by the Government a few years
before. Mr. Odell of whom mention has been made was an elderly gentleman and
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a preacher - yet he was ambitious, very ambitious. He aspired, he longed, yea,
hungered and thirsted for the reputation of having ridden a camel. He made
known his wishes to the Lieutenant who replied, "Certainly, certainly you shall
ride a camel." Beale than called to his Turkish camel driver. "Hijila bring
us old Saad and let Mr. Odell have a ride." The camel was brought and caused to
kneel down when the old man vaulted into the saddle. When at command of the Turk
old Saad moved forward and backward and upward and the old man became alarmed but
Hijila admonished him, "Hold on tight." As the camel moved off in that long
swing trot the old man's alarm became terror, as shown by his face, and lustily
called out "Stop this beast" greatly to the amusement of the boys. When the camel
had trotted off a hundred yards or so he came back and kneeled down. Mr. Odell
was prompt to dismount thankful that he still lived.On reaching the Colorado River we found a military post (near where the
battle with the Indians was fought) commanded by Major Armistead, then of the
U. S. Army. We found him an old Virginia gentleman "without fear and without
reproach." He resigned his commission in 1861 and took service in the Confederate
Army. Armistead was made a brigadier general by the U. S. Government and was
killed in Pickett's famous charge at Gettysburg. That charge in which -
"A thousand fell where Kemper led,
A thousand died where Garnett bled,
And mid the battle's blinding smoke,
The remnant through the batteries broke
And crossed the works with Armistead."
He was the first officer to mount the Federal works - sword in hand. He was seen
a few minutes later (by one who informed me) with his military cap on the point
of his saber, waving his men on, and with his left hand on a Federal gun calling
his men to help him turn that cannon on the foe. With his gray hairs floating
in the very smoke of battle like the white plume of Navarre at the battle of Ivry,
he became the conspicuous target for a hundred rifles of the Federal Infantry and,
of course, was literally riddles with bullets.
After some weeks on the river - near Fort (or camp) Mohave, we came on to
Los Angeles in a train of pack (and saddle) mules conducted by Wm. Tucker who
had been one of Beale's most trusted assistants and who was a gentleman - all
round and so ended our trip across the plains.
And here let me add: Whatever others may have thought or said of General
E. F. Beale, we found him an accommodating gentleman - and for his kindness I
shall always be greatful.
Signed: Joel Hedgpeth D. D.
Note: Mr. Odell is actually John Udell, who wrote a journal while on this same trip, and it was later published in 1868, and then again in 1946 by the Huntington Library in San Marino, California ....
Also the Hijila that is mentioned, is referred to as Hi-Jolly in other publications I have read, these camel's where part of the Camel Corp. the U.S. Army was experimenting with ...
I don't have a date as to when Joel wrote this, but several of the events he mentioned, match those same events in John Udell's Journal. Joel turned 18 years old that Dec. 1858.
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