Journal Notes

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Soldier, Sister, Scout, Spy: Women Patriots and Soldiers on the Western Frontier

Frances eyed the horizon before them then disappeared into the wagon. She picked up two sabers lying next to a trunk, unsheathed them, and thrust them out either side of the back of the wagon. From a distance she hoped it would look like they were armed with more travelers who were ready to do battle with the Apaches. Unless they come very close, she thought, the dim light will favor our deception.

She returned to her husband’s side, cradling a pistol in her lap. The strap on Orsemus’ gun in his holster had been undone, and he was ready to fire his weapon as well. The riders in front of them had pulled their bayonets from their sheaths, the blades gleaming in the low-hanging sun. Frances believed the small band looked as warlike as possible. Members of the Eighth Cavalry had passed this same way a few days before and had been assaulted with bullets from some of Apache leader Geronimo’s warriors. Frances and the others were relying on an appearance of strength they in nowise possessed. They knew the Natives would not attack unless they were confident of victory.

The train proceeded into the canyon. The mountain walls on either side were jagged and high. They were a treacherous color against which an Indian could hide himself and almost seem to be a part of them. Frances later wrote that their “hearts quivered with excitement and fear at the probability of an attack.”

The going was slow, and, as time progressed without any hint of an ambush, the party started to relax. Then, suddenly, they heard the fearful cry of an Indian. His cry was answered by another.

Frances stared down at her baby lying at her feet. The child was bundled up in many blankets and sleeping soundly. Orsemus urged on the mule team pulling the wagon through the imposing gorge. Everyone with the party believed death was moments away. “At last, and it seemed ages,” Frances later recalled, “we were out of the canyon and on open ground.” The Boyds eventually met up with a large party of freighters and made their way to the northern part of the state, frazzled but unharmed. Thus was the life of a military wife on the wild frontier.

Women like Frances Boyd chose to endure the hardships of army living in order to make life for their husbands less burdensome and to help settle an untamed land. “I cast my lot with a soldier,” Frances wrote in her memoirs, “where he was, was home to me.”

Frances Anne was born into a well-to-do family in New York City on February 14, 1848. Her father owned a bakery; her mother was a housewife who died when Frances was quite young. Historians record that she was a bright girl with an agile mind. She met Orsemus Boyd when she was a high school senior and he was a cadet at West Point. They were married a year later, on October 9, 1867. Orsemus had a desire to go west, and Frances had a desire to be with Orsemus.

To learn more about Frances Boyd and other such patriots read

Soldier, Sister, Scout, Spy: Women Patriots and Soldiers on the Western Frontier.

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Soldier, Sister, Spy, Scout: Women Soldiers and Patriots on the Western Frontier

The moment Madam Alavez arrived at Copano, she began her work of intercession and performed deeds of mercy for the poor[,] suffering Texans who had fallen into the hands of the Mexican enemy. —Pioneer Press, October 1920

A slim shadow darted toward the old church at the ruined fortress of Goliad.  The smell of smoke stained the night air as the figure picked a careful path through the rubble inside the fortress walls.  Moonlight starkly displayed the damage caused by the retreating forces of Colonel James Fannin’s command.  Hundreds of Fannin’s men now lay on the hard ground, prisoners of General Jose de Urrea, one of Supreme Commandant General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna’s best commanders.

Pausing in a dark corner, Francita Alavez gazed toward the southwest gate and the dull gleam of a cannon positioned to fire on anyone who might attempt a rescue of the Americans.  She shivered in the warm night as the knowledge of their fate bowed her shoulders.  She knew what the captives did not.  They believed they would be returned to the United States as prisoners of war.  Francita had seen the order sent by Santa Anna to execute all of them.

As she had at Copano Bay almost the moment she arrived in Texas, Francita vowed to save as many as she could.  On the eve of Palm Sunday, March 27, 1846, she slipped into the church and began the task.

“She had heard many tales of the bad, bold, immoral Texans, but like all good souls loath to think ill of others, scarcely believed they could be as bad as painted,” recounted the Pioneer Press in 1920.  The article went on to outline what was then known about the woman who came to be called the “Angel of Goliad.”  Little more is known today about the young woman who worked against a dictator’s orders at the risk of her own life.

To learn more about Francita and other brave women like her read:

Soldier, Sister, Spy, Scout: Women Soldiers and Patriots on the Western Frontier

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Soldier, Sister, Spy, Scout: Women Soldiers and Patriots on the Western Frontier

Mrs. Frank “Tobey” Riddle, better known as Winema, was a mediator for the Modoc people, other Indian tribes in the area of Klamath Lake, Oregon, and the United States Army in early 1878.  With her skills she was able to negotiate treaties that kept the land of her ancestors in peace.  Whenever that peace was threatened, her job was to set things straight.  On February 1873, she rode into hostile Modoc territory to persuade the chief to surrender to the cavalry.

Chief Keintpoos, or Captain Jack (a named given to him by the settlers because of his liking for brass buttons and military medals on his coat), was Winema’s cousin.  In 1863 the U.S. government forced his people from their land onto a reservation in Oregon.  Conditions on the reservation were intolerable for the Modoc people.  They were forced to share the land with the Klamath Indians of the region.  The Modoc and the Klamath did not get along.  The Modoc struggled to live in this hostile environment for three years.  Modoc leaders appealed to the U.S. government to separate the tribes, but officials refused to correct the problem.  In 1869, Captain Jack defied the laws of the white man and led his tribe off the reservation and back to the area where their forefathers had first lived.

The cavalry and frustrated members of the Indian Peace Council wanted to use force to bring Captain Jack and his followers back to the reservation.  Winema persuaded them instead to give her a chance to talk with the chief.

When Winema reached the Modoc camp, Captain Jack’s men gathered around her. A dozen pistols were drawn upon her as she dismounted. She eyed the angry tribesmen as they slowly approached her. Then walking backward until she stood upon a rock above the mobs, she clasped her right hand upon her own pistol, and with the other on her heart she shouted aloud, “I am a Modoc myself.  I am here to talk peace.   Shoot me if you dare, but I will never betray you.”  Her bravery in the face of such difficulty won the admiration of her people, and instantly a dozen pistols were drawn in her defense.

To learn more about Winema and other women loyalists read

Soldier, Sister, Spy, Scout: Women Soldiers and Patriots on the Western Frontier

Throughout the month of July enter to win a copy of

Solider, Sister, Spy, Scout: Women Soldiers and Patriots on the Western Frontier

From the earliest days of the western frontier, women heeded the call to go west along with their husbands, sweethearts, and parents. Many of these women were attached to the army camps and outposts that dotted the prairies. Some were active participants in the skirmishes and battles that took place in the western territories. Each of these women-wives, mothers, daughters, laundresses, soldiers, and shamans-risked their lives in unsettled lands, facing such challenges as bearing children in primitive conditions and defying military orders in an effort to save innocent people.

Soldier, Sister, Spy, Scout tells the story of twelve such brave women-Buffalo Soldiers, scouts, interpreters, nurses, and others-who served their country in the early frontier. These heroic women displayed a depth of courage and physical bravery not found in many men of the time. Their remarkable commitment and willingness to throw off the constraints of nineteenth-century conventions helped build the west for generations to come.

After such a long time trying to get The Widowed Ones on the shelf at

the Little Bighorn Museum,

I learned yesterday that the book is indeed for sale at the famous location.

Next year at this time, I’ll be in Montana signing copies of book.

Thank you Friends of the Little Bighorn Battlefield.

Enter now to win a copy of The Widowed Ones: Beyond the Battle of the Little Bighorn

Enter now to win a copy of

The Widowed Ones: Beyond the Battle of the Little Bighorn

Molly Garrett McIntosh declined to attend the burial of her husband, First Lieutenant Donald McIntosh, at Fort Leavenworth on August 3, 1877.  She left Fort Abraham Lincoln in the Dakota Territory in late July 1876, a broken woman with no idea how she would go on without her beloved.  First Lieutenant McIntosh, the thirty-seven-year-old commander of the Seventh Cavalry’s Company G, fell with the other officers at the Battle of the Little Bighorn.  His remains had been identified by his brother-in-law, Lieutenant Frank Gibson.  Gibson was with the Seventh’s Company H and part of the detail dispatched to the scene to recover and bury the bodies of his fellow soldiers.  According to a report from Lieutenant Charles F. Roe who rode with Gibson on the detail, Donald’s body was found close to the banks of the Little Bighorn River.  He had been stripped and scalped; his head was “pounded to jelly.”  His remains were identified by the special sleeve buttons found near where his body lay.  The “gutta-percha” buttons had been a present from Molly and presented to him just before he had ridden out with General Custer to Montana.*  She secretly had had them sewn on his uniform.

Not long after leaving Fort Abraham Lincoln to return to Baltimore to live with her mother, Molly learned of the condition of her husband’s body.  She was desperate to find out what had happened to Donald.  She knew he kept a journal of his activities.  It was a small, dark book he always kept tucked in the pocket of his uniform.  Molly wanted to know if the journal had been located.  She also wanted to know if his wedding ring had been taken by the Indians after the battle.  The ring, gold with a small diamond, bore the initials inside of both Donald and Molly along with the number sixty-six for 1866, the year the two were married.  Neither his journal nor his wedding ring was located.  Molly’s sister Katherine, wife of Lieutenant Frank Gibson, thought it was cruel not to let her know the truth and gently explained what Frank had shared with her about Donald’s death.  Molly was grateful but imagining how her husband suffered drove her to her parents’ home where she shut herself away.

Molly’s father, Milton Garrett, had passed away in 1869, and her mother Mary was alone and in poor health.  Molly was there to take care of her.  Apart from Mary, Molly saw no one.  She isolated herself from the world to grieve the loss of her spouse alone.

To learn more about Molly McIntosh and her friends read

The Widowed Ones: Beyond the Battle of the Little Bighorn

News came this morning that the article I penned about Sarah Herring Sorin entitled The Attorney Teacher is a finalist for the prestigious

Downing Journalism Award.

I’m grateful to the Tombstone Epitaph for publishing Sarah’s story.

Thanks also to Women Writing the West.

How the West Was Worn: Bustles and Buckskins on the Wild Frontier

Currently #45 on Amazon’s best seller ranking in the category of Antique & Collectible Textiles & Costumes

Fashion that was in vogue in the East was highly desirable to pioneers during the frontier period of the American West. It was also extraordinarily difficult to obtain, often impractical, and sometimes the clothing was just not durable enough for the men and women who were forging new homes for themselves in the West. Full hoopskirts were of little use in a soddy on the prairie, and chaps and spurs were a vital part of the cowboy’s equipment.

In this book, author Chris Enss examines the fashion that shaped the frontier through short essays; brief clips from letters, magazines, and other period sources; and period illustrations demonstrating the sometimes bizarre, often beautiful, and frequently highly inventive ways of dressing oneself in the Old West.

Email gvcenss@aol.com now to ask for a free copy of the book