The Sherman
Courier
Friday, August 15, 1917
pg. 13
Fiftieth Anniversary Edition
Murder of White Boy Named Green.
Number of Indians Killed and Band
Chased From the Country
The following account of the last Indian
fight in Grayson county will be of interest
to people both in the county and elsewhere.
This narrative was written by Mrs.
Kate Dugan, an aunt of Daniel D. Dugan who
now lives on North Travis street, Sherman.
In writing about this last fight,
which was in 1841, Mrs. Dugan spoke from
experience, as she was there and took part
in the fight. She says:
"The first indication of Indians we had
notified for some time were on that Monday
evening. The cows would not stand
still long enough to be milked, but would
snuff the air, hoist their heads and herd
together in the upper part of the pen,
gazing very intently toward the woods.
We felt certain that Indians were in
the vicinity, watching our movements, but it
was such a common occurrence that we took no
extra precaution, depending a good deal on
our dogs to keep them at a distance.
Our dogs had been of great service to
us and I believe they had many times kept
the Indians off by barking and extreme
fierceness. After supper George and
William went to the barn to sleep as usual
and the other men went to their room, where
they had a good fire burning. Henry
Dugan an another boy named WIlliam Allred
who was staying at our house, were out in
the yard playing until father went to the
door and told them to go to bed. Henry
slept with Green and boy like wanted to in
the front, but when he was ready for bed
Green was too sound asleep to get over, so
necessarily Henry had to crawl in behind,
and though very unwilling to occupy so
undignified a place it was the means of
saving his life. Mother went to bed
early and father lay dozing by the kitchen
fire, as was his habit, being troubled with
rheumatism. Sister Emily and I sat
nearby working by the dim light of a single
tallow dip, I sewing and she carding cotton
rolls for the next day's spinning.
Everything was very quiet, the dogs
not even barking as usual. Afterwards
we knew they were down behind the smokehouse
gnawing bones that Gorden had thrown there.
"Emily and I were talking in whispers about
the wedding when we both started and
listened to an unusual noise we heard in the
men's room. The door pin fell to the
floor and some one gave the door a kick.
We were about to resume our work and
conversation, thinking it was one of the men
when like a thunderbolt two shots rang out,
followed by another, and then all was
confusion. Pandemonium let loose, in
an instant the yard seemed full of Indians,
all yelling and blowing whistles.
Emily sprang up and commenced running
up and down the room screaming, "Indians."
I blew the candle out first thing,
then ran for a bucket of water and threw it
on the fire, and turned just in time to
catch mother, who half dazed with sleep, was
trying to unbar the door and get out.
Father was pretty quick, considering
his rheumatism, and grabbing his old "flint
lock" ran to the port hole and fired at the
noise as it was too dark to aim. The
dogs, hearing the noise, came tearing around
the house and joined in the row with all
their teeth and lungs and the Indians soon
left. Emily kept running up and down
the room, and if the Indians heard that
puncheon floor rattle, they must have
thought the kitchen full of men. I
have no doubt though that they had watched
us as we sat there at work, for there was a
crack between the logs neat the door, that
one could have put his arm through, and it
is very likely they took observations and
knew where to find the men first. I
don't know what I should have done if I had
turned and seen a pair of shining eyes
looking at me through that crack.
After the Indians left and the noise
subsided, we could hear cries and groans in
the men's room, which set us almost
distracted. Father called out through
the port hole to know who was hurt, and
Gordon answered the Green was killed and
Hoover wounded.
In about half an hour we heard three shots
in the direction of the barn, followed by
such terrible groans that we were alarmed
for fear that one of the boys was hurt, but
the whistles and howls and lamentations, a
cross between the howl of a wolf and the cry
of a human, accompanying the groans gave us
a very correct idea that our enemies were
getting the worst of a bad bargain. We
did not dare to stir out until morning and,
as it best to keep our forces scattered, we
all stayed where we were until sun rise.
The men barricaded their door and kept
watch in their room and I took father's gun
and remained on guard at that port hole
while father slept. I could only look
once in awhile to see if Indians were
sulking about the house on our side.
All night long I could hear their
whistles in one place and then in another,
sometimes clear and shrill near the house,
then a tremulous quivering note like the
plaintive song of a bird would break the
silence of the night. It was evident
that the Indians were very uneasy about
something.
Toward morning, as it began to grow light, I
leaned forward once...thankful that day was
at last dawning and this fearful suspense
would soon be at an end. My eyes
searching took in every object within the
object of the port hole, and I was about to
draw back when I was arrested by a sight
that made my heart jump right into my
throat. Not twenty feet away stood an
Indian by a tree, silent and motionless as a
statue; where he came from and how he got
there was more than I could tell. I
had seen no motion and heard no sound.
My first thought was to shoot, and
what a fine chance it was! I had a
feeling of hatred and a desire for vengeance
against the whole Indian race since my
brother was so cruelly murdered by them, and
now was my time. I raised my gun but
in the excitement of the moment I must have
made a noise that gave him the alarm for,
when I looked again down the shiny barrel,
he was gone. Sun rise came at last,
bringing the boys in from the barn, and when
in a few hurried questions we learned our
situation, George mounted our fleetest horse
and went to Warren for a doctor and to
inform Green of the death of his son.
For many years after, the print of an
Indian's hand could be seen where he leaned
against the soft mortar and pulled the peg
out of the door on that fatal night.
Two shots were fired towards the beds, one
striking Green and killing him instantly.
Hoover sprang out of the bed and sank
to the floor with a very bad flesh wound in
the side while Gordon, as quick as a flash,
jumped over the bed, ran in behind the door
and pushed it to with such force that he
fairly knocked the Indians out of the door.
He fastened it with chains and tables
the best he could, threw water on the fire
that was burning brightly in the fire place
and then went to the assistance of the
wounded men. Not knowing that Green
was shot, Henry sprang out of the bed and
tried in vain to rouse him; he threw back
the cover, and taking hold of his hand, told
him to "wake up, the Indians were upon them"
but no responses came from the lips forever
dumb, and they soon discovered that the poor
boy was wrapped in the slumbers that knows
no awakening.
When George and William heard the firing at
the house and Emily screaming, they hurried
on their clothes to come to their rescue;
then they heard father's gun and the dogs,
and thought they had better stay where they
were. A wise resolve for the Indians
never turned their attention to the horses.
The boys made all preparations, for they saw
that their guns were in order and ammunition
handy. They did not have long to wait.
As William was on the outlook at the
front side of the of the barn, he saw a dark
form moving about very strangely among the
trees. It would appear from behind a tree,
jump up and down, and the dart back.
After acting in this wild way for
awhile, it made a dash for the barn door
where it "materialized" to the watching eyes
above, as a very stalwart Indian, who had
been acting in that way to tempt a shot if
anyone was on guard at the barn, seemingly
satisfied that no one was around, and that
he had everything to himself, he set his gun
down by the door and began to work and pick
at the padlock and to use English "cuss
words" when it would not yield to his
manipulations. In a few moments he was
joined by two more Indians who had been
watching, stopped within a few steps from
the proceedings. They walked up to the
barn door, and talking in a low tone of
voice and looking up toward a little window
cut in the logs just above the door. Like
the colonel of the Revolutionary fame
William "waited until he could see the
whites of the enemy's eyes and the fired."
At the signal George was at his side
in a second, and motioning him that it was
time to shoot, they rested the muzzles of
their guns between the logs and fired.
Both Indians were mortally wounded,
fell, got up and ran some distance, four to
the north and one to the west of the barn.
The former by his groans attracted
friends who came and carried him off; the
other was not heard from and the boys
supposed that he was taken away too.
They reloaded their guns and took
their places to await another attack, but
they did not think that without another
effort to get the Indians would give up the
fight for horses; nor were they mistaken.
As George was looking out on his side
next to the cow pen, he saw the cows very
much disturbed, step aside very suddenly and
give a wide berth to an object crawling on
the ground.
At first he thought it was a hog as it
grunted its way toward the barn, but upon
closer inspection, and knowing that the hogs
could not get in on that side, he suspected
that it was an Indian and raised his gun to
give him a reception worthy of his mission.
As he was taking aim, the muzzle of
his gun raked on the bark making a slight
noise. The quick ear of the Indian
caught the sound, and partly raised up, but
he only made a better target of himself and
received a ball and twenty-four buckshot
full in the breast, cutting in two a hair
rope tied around his waist. He was
tracked the next day by his blood to where
he died, and where the Indians had found and
carried him off, but the continual whistling
during the night made all think that they
had not succeeding in finding all their dead
yet. When George came back from
Warren, he brought the doctor, several
rangers, and the family of Green, who took
their boy back to Warren for burial.
As the men were waiting for dinner,
some talking and others, who had been up all
night, were trying to sleep, a shrill
whistle was heard in the woods near the
house, which brought every man to his feet
and off into the woods in no time. A
fleeting vision of a red skin clearing the
ground by flying leaps two yards apart was
all they saw and they returned and commenced
searching for the dead Indians. They
found one of the first that was shot, the
one that had run west of the barn and fallen
dead without a groan. The men dragged
him to the house and laid him out in state
in the yard, inviting all to come to the
funeral (no flowers). He was dressed
in light marching order, a calico shirt and
leather leggins, and as Dr. Rowlett came out
with the other to take a last look at the
deceased, he looked at him for a moment and
then exclaimed, "Why, that is Cochatta Bill;
he used to work for me; my wife made that
shirt he has on!"
