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Colorado Territory in 1864 wasn’t merely the wild west, it was a land in limbo while the Civil War raged in the east and politics swirled around its potential admission to the union. The territorial governor, John Evans, had ambitions on the national stage should statehood occur–and he was joined in those ambitions by a local pastor and erstwhile Colonel in the Colorado militia, John Chivington. The decision was made to take a hard line stance against any Native Americans who refused to settle on reservations–and in the fall of 1864, Chivington set his sights on a small band of Cheyenne under the chief Black Eagle, camped and preparing for the winter at Sand Creek.

When the order to fire on the camp came on November 28, one officer refused, other soldiers in Chivington’s force, however, immediately attacked the village, disregarding the American flag, and a white flag of surrender that was run up shortly after the soldiers commenced firing.

In the ensuing “battle” fifteen members of the assembled militias were killed and more than 50 wounded Between 150 and 200 of Black Kettle’s Cheyenne were estimated killed, nearly all elderly men, women and children.

As with many incidents in American history, the victors wrote the first version of history–turning the massacre into a heroic feat by the troops. Soon thereafter, however, Congress began an investigation into Chivington’s actions and he was roundly condemned. His name still rings with infamy in Colorado and American history. Mochi’s War explores this story and its repercussions into the last part of the nineteenth Century from the perspective of a Cheyenne woman whose determination swept her into some of the most dramatic and heartbreaking moments in the conflicts that grew through the West in the aftermath of Sand Creek.

To learn more about Mochi read Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

A portion of the book’s proceeds will go to the Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site.

Enter now for a chance to win a copy of Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek

This book captivates a ruthless woman warrior who was born out of the pits of the Sand Creek Massacre. The word ‘warrior’ sends a tingle of fear down the spine and conjures up an imaginary fierce, merciless fighter seemingly invulnerable to fear or intimidation.

There are many reasons that a Native Indian woman would fight and become one of the women warriors. Most nineteenth century women warriors who fought in battles and conflicts did not pursue the life of a warrior on a permanent basis.

Most women fought because there was an urgent need for them to do so, which the reader will find out quickly that was the case for the young 24 year-old Cheyenne warrior.

The authors of this book writes of the malice in the young woman’s heart and the revenge that sat heavily on the edge of her tomahawk. The woman warrior fought to the death using bloodthirsty tactics to achieve victory. Not the usual image that we would associate with women, but there were many Native American warriors.

When asked to name some famous Indian women, most people have difficulty in recalling anyone other than Pocahontas or Sacagawea, the reader will have no difficulty with remembering Mochi, the Cheyenne Warrior after engaging themselves in this title, Mochi’s War.

Rebecka Lyman

Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribal Tribune

To learn more about Mochi read Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

A portion of the book’s proceeds will go to the

Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site.

Enter now for a chance to win a copy of Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek

Praise for Mochi’s War:

“The authors have again collaborated to write Western history in an accurate yet accessible manner for mainstream readers…this biographical account provides a counterpoint to the many works that have mythologized such women as Pocahontas and Sacajawea.” – Library Journal ***starred review***

After the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864, one woman survived physically unharmed, but emotionally devastated by the destruction of her tribe and determined to avenge her dead relatives. Her story has rarely been told, and Mochi’s War is the first book to tell it in full.

On November 28, 1864, Colonel John Chivington and his militia attacked a Cheyenne Indian village in southeastern Colorado. Between 150 and 200 Cheyenne Indians were estimated killed, nearly all elderly men, women, and children. The events at Sand Creek motivated Mochi to embark a decade long reign of terror. With each raid she remembered the horror of the massacre, and it goaded her on to terrible violence against those encroaching on Indian soil. The war between the Indians and the government lasted ten years after the Sand Creek Massacre occurred. Mochi’s war ended with her arrest and imprisonment in 1874 – the only woman ever to be incarcerated by the United States as a prisoner of War.

Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek explores the story and its repercussions into the last part of the nineteenth century from the perspective of a Cheyenne woman whose determination swept her into some of the most dramatic and heartbreaking moments in the conflicts that grew through the west in the aftermath of Sand Creek.

To learn more about Mochi read Mochi’s War: The Tragedy of Sand Creek.

Purchase a copy for a local school.

A portion of the book’s proceeds will go to the

Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site.

Eureka! The Discovery of Gold in California Part Three

Many elementary schools across the country are now studying the California Gold Rush. This short, continuing story is intended to aid teachers in their efforts to share with their classes the significance of this historical events. Teacher who use the story in this week’s lessons can register to win a copy of the book Frontier Teachers.

Marshall could not seem to saddle his horse fast enough. Down through the beautiful California country he rode to Sutter’s Fort. As he came closer he glances at the herds of cattle browsing on the lush grass. He nodded when Sutter’s Mexican cowhands, the vaqueros, called cheerful greetings, waving their high sombreros.

The Fort was the only American strong hold in the territory. John Sutter had obtained land from Mexico. He had been loyal to the country until California was practically taken over by the Unites States toward the end of the Mexican war. But now he was in sympathy with America. His Fort was at the California end of the only wagon trail from the States, and he gave aid and work to any Americans who came that way.

Now as Marshall rode through the gateway in the adobe walls surrounding Sutter’s Fort, he seemed to enter a city in itself. Here were shops and sheds and houses. He heard the clang-clang of a blacksmith’s hammer on anvil, and the soft Spanish song of a Mexican woman as she slapped tortillas on a flat stone.

Marshall strode at once to Sutter’s house, and startled his boss with his air of excitement.

“What is this, Mr. Marshall?” asked John Sutter in his quiet way.

Marshall carefully opened his small bag and emptied its contents on a desk. Sutter leaped over to it, his eyes lighting up. “Looks like that is gold, Mr. Marshall. Where did it come from?”

“From the tail race of the mill. There’s more there. Lots more.”

The ranch owner put his plump finger against his nose thoughtfully. “Now, how can we find out – ah, I know.” He went to a bookcase and took out a small encyclopedia. “Here we have it. Yes, I can try it out.”

He pored over the book for some time, reading the rules given for testing gold to find out if it was pure or mixed with other metals. Then he sent Marshall out to get silver coins from anybody who had them in the Fort. With about three and a half dollars in silver balanced on a small scale they figured it out. This was pure gold, unmixed with silver or copper!

John Sutter sat in his big chair for a long time, and stared across at his silent millwright. Gold! The word was like magic. How much would the river, and perhaps all his land, contain? Down under those waving fields of grain, those pastures where his horses and cattle and sheep grazed by the thousand – was there pure gold? What would this do to his little kingdom, where he ruled like a lord? He frowned, and chewed his under lip. Somehow this news brought a fear of losing what he had struggled so long to gain.

“Mr. Marshall,” he said quietly, “perhaps we had better not talk about this yet. Perhaps we had better think first of what to do? Let us preserve silence, for a while.”

Marshall nodded slowly. Here was a fortune. He had found it. It would be well to keep it secret from those who would perhaps steal it from him. He went to saddle his horse. As he rode into the foothills, the sun spread across the wind-blown fields of grasses and turned them all to shining, gleaming gold. A golden earth! Golden streams! A golden land!

 Register now to win a copy of the book Frontier Teachers.

Many elementary schools across the country are now studying the California Gold Rush. This short, continuing story is intended to aid teachers in their efforts to share with their classes the significance of this historical events. Teacher who use the story in this week’s lessons can register to win a copy of the book Frontier Teachers.

James Marshall stood up and saw his laborers sitting around their fire drinking coffee and eating flapjacks. Beyond them the Indian workers moved quietly, preparing their breakfast of dried deer meat. Marshall walked slowly to the fire where his sober Mormon workers ate silently, and opened his hand.

“I found it in the tail race.”

The men stopped chewing and one exclaimed, “Fool’s gold,” and laughed. Another spit carefully into a bush several yards away. “Tain’t nothing by iron pyrite,” he said. “Fool’s gold, that’s all.”

The first man took a closer look, reached for another flapjack, and said, “That’s right. That stuff fools lots of people.” They all grinned knowingly at each other.

James Marshall scowled and clenched his fist over the little pebble. They thought him a fool. He turned on his heel, and strode up the slope to a small log cabin where smoke was lazily rising from an adobe chimney. As he approached he saw Elizabeth Wimmer, wife of his foreman, standing with a long stick in hand over a big, black soap kettle. Elizabeth Wimmer was one of the few American women in this land so lately taken from Mexico. She had refused to be left at Sutter’s Fort when Peter, her husband, went to take charge of the Indian laborers building the sawmill.

As Marshall came up to her he growled, “Look here, Mrs. Wimmer! This looks like gold. The men say it’s iron pyrite.” He unclenched his fist.

Mrs. Wimmer leaned forward curiously. Then, before he could stop her, she picked up the little piece and dropped it into the bubbling soap kettle. “We’ll soon find out, Mr. Marshall. If it isn’t gold the lye in this kettle will eat it up quick.”

James Marshall said nothing, but turned and went back to the breakfast he had not yet eaten.

That night as he went to the cabin where he lived with the Wimmers he felt confident again. The mill would work well with the tail race deepened. He was thinking of the lumber they would soon be sawing and of the money they could get for it in the sleepy village of San Francisco. As he sat and smoked his pipe he was startled by Mrs. Wimmer. Through the door she marched, and up to the scrubbed pine table.

“There!” she cried triumphantly. “It’s gold, all right, Mr. Marshall!”

She flung on the table the heavy little stone. In the light of the candle it glowed and gleamed. Marshall picked it up, then put it on the floor, grasped a rock lying by the hearth, and hammered it. It didn’t break. Gold!

Next morning at dawn he went back to the tail race. From cracks between the boulders he picked up more of the tiny gold pieces. Carefully he stowed them away in a small buckskin bag and went back to his job of getting the mill going. Later in the day he announced to Peter Wimmer:

“Supplies are getting low. I’m going to the Fort for grub. Wimmer, you take over while I’m gone.”

Peter Wimmer glanced at his wife, but said nothing.

 Register now to win a copy of the book Frontier Teachers.