Ben Ch 12

SOMETHING happened during the summer of 1853 that set Battle Creek folk and all the other settlers through the territory in a fever of excitement. It was the Walker War. Over on the edge of Springville, about eighteen miles to the south, trouble had arisen between a white man and an Indian.

A Ute squaw, who had caught some fine trout out of Hobble Creek, traded them to a passing teamster for a few pounds of flour. Just then her husband appeared. Feeling she had made a poor trade, he began to beat her. At this the white man, who couldn't stand seeing a woman mistreated, interfered. Then both the squaw and her husband turned on him. He grabbed a stick of firewood and struck the Indian on the head a blow that felled him.

A scream from the squaw brought the whole camp to the scene. The white man had fled to the nearby town. That night the Indian died.

Fiery Chief Walker, to whose tribe he belonged, demanded that the man who did the killing be turned over to the Indian leaders. The town refused. Beef and other gifts were offered to quiet the angered redmen. They spurned these.

That night the Indians broke camp and disappeared. At Payson, a few miles to the south, some of them killed Alex Steele, a young man, who was standing guard. Then the band went up Peteetneet Canyon and over into Sanpete Valley where other killings occurred. The Walker War was on.

There was a hurried gathering of the scattered settlers and united action towards building forts for protection.

Within a few weeks, Battle Creek was changed from a "string town" to a compact community. Around this a fort wall was being built; houses for each of the families were being hastily erected ten rods from the wall on assigned lots, and these were being connected with an inner wall. Right in the middle of the fort, too, was a big corral for the cattle and horses. Later each family was given its separate corral. Even the school house of adobe was taken down and rebuilt within the fort.

Men and women, boys and girls all bad to play real parts in this hurried work of making safer quarters. While the building was in progress, guards were kept day and night watching for the Indians. Ben was called with other boys of his age to perform this sentinel duty.

One night, before patrolling his beat, he began to load his musket. A charge of powder was poured into the barrel; then a wad was added. Bad luck I As he was ramming this, the ramrod stuck. Suddenly Ben sighted something moving out through the sagebrush. Naturally his first thought was of sneaking Indians. He cocked his gun, and kept a watchful eye on the object. Finally it came into an open space. It was no Indian, but a gray wolf. In excitement the boy fired the ramrod at the animal. Next moment he was in the midst of other guards, all ready to help fight redmen. Ben had forgotten what a shot from a sentinel meant. He was promptly taken over by his captain, and given such a "scotching," as he afterwards put it, that he never did such a foolish trick again.

Next night Indians really came. How they ever did it no one of the guards could tell, but out of the big corral, the wily redskins managed to get every horse that belonged to the settlers of Battle Creek. Of all the stolen animals, only one a little white mare which Ben's father had traded for about a month before--was recovered. Some days after the daring raid, this little animal wandered back into town. She became a family pet.

Chief Walker did not keep up the war very long. Leaders of the people finally brought him and the other Ute chieftains to a peace council, and settled the troubles without further fighting. Only a few bits of Indian excitement followed. Battle Creek came in for its share of these.

One day some of the town herd boys happened to see two Indians on foot coming down an old trail towards the fort. Without giving the peaceful redmen a chance to explain, these reckless boys immediately started their ponies after them. Of course the Indians turned with all speed back to the hills, and one of them managed to get away. The other was captured and taken into the fort, where he was held in chains during the night.

Bishop Walker and other leaders, feeling a wrong had been committed, managed, through sign language, to learn from the prisoner that his family was up in the hills. He promised, if let free, to bring his wife and children to the town. As a result, some of the boys took "Curly," as he was afterwards called, back up the mountain trail to a spring where the Indians had camped. But the family and friends of Curly had left. He begged, however, to be permitted to go and bring them back, and his request was granted. The spot ever since has been called Curly's Spring.

True to his word, he returned in a few days with his wife and two children. They made winter camp just south of the fort among the willows and oakbrush. During their stay in what had evidently been an old haunt for them, Curly's wife gave birth to a boy. One Maytime morning the Indian father brought his family into the fort to bid his white friends goodbye. He was taking his wife and children up in the higher valleys for the summer time.

"Heap game there," he said, "Deer, mountain sheep, sage hens, rabbits, fish."

Many of the white children with some of the grown folk gathered round the Indian family to see the little papoose hanging in its basket on its mother's back.

"He's the prettiest Indian baby I've ever seen," said Ben's mother, "but I'm going to make him prettier."

With that she went back into the house. Very soon she returned with a red ribbon. As she made a bow of it and pinned it on the baby's tiny buckskin jacket, the Indian mother smiled.

Other mothers came with gifts for the Indian family. Finally away they went up the trail that led past Curly's Spring and on to the northward around Mount Timpanogos to the upper valleys.

Autumn time found them back again and with them about ten more Ute families. They had come to trade buckskins and buffalo robes, moccasins, gloves, and other things with the white settlers. For over a week there was an Indian village of picturesque tepees pitched on the meadows near town. Ben and other boys spent some time visiting these red folk. They were especially interested in the herd of ponies, and in watching the Indian boys ride and race the little animals.

"Oh, I wish I had one of them," Ben said to his father. "I could take better care of the oxen and cows with a pony to ride. Won't you trade for one for me, Father?" he pleaded. "I'll work ever so much harder to help you pay for it."

"We'll think about it, Ben," replied the father.

The parents did think about it, and talk it over that night. As they did, memories came of a little lad who had given his treasured wagon for the temple. They thought, too, of his help for them through the years. Finally the father said, "I'd like to give him what he wants, Eliza, but I can't yet see how we can manage it."

Next morning after breakfast he remarked quietly, "Ben, I wish you would go with me to the Indian camp. Curly has a fine buffalo robe I'd like to get, and maybe we can swap for some Indian fixin's for you and your brothers and sisters."

No second invitation was needed. They were soon among the Indians. With the help of Uncle Sam, who knew enough Ute language to do the trading, the buffalo robe with some buckskin and pairs of moccasins were procured. Then came a surprise. As a band of Indian ponies was being driven up for catching and riding, the father said, "Pick out the one you'd like to have, Ben."

"Do you really mean I may have a pony?"

"Yes, if it doesn't take too much to get one," was the reply.

"Well, I'd like that large buckskin colored one, with a black stripe along his back, and down his legs," said the boy.

"Good choice," spoke up Uncle Sam. "That's a real mustang. He'll make a fine saddle pony."

"Next thing is to get him," said the father. Curly was called on to help in the trading. It happened that the pony belonged to a friend of his. At first the owner didn't want to trade, but finally, tempted by a brass bucket, a butcher knife, and some bright calico for his wife, the Indian made the "swap." Ben rode back home on his mustang, the proudest boy in Battle Creek.

During the winter that followed the town felt the glow of a real community spirit. Working together to build the fort, meeting and school houses, and their homes, the settlers grew in unity and strength.

"What we need now is an easier way to get this good mountain water into every home," said one of the leaders.

The suggestion sounded good. Some of the men with inventive Yankee genius straightway went to work to solve the problem. Very soon they bad, devised a system of pioneer waterworks. Square pipes with a hole two by two inches were laid in the ground below frost depth along the front of all the houses in the fort. At each house a water box was built with a lid over it. Pure mountain spring water and plenty of it, was thus to be had just for the dipping.

Recreation was not forgotten. There was a music school, in which William Frampton gave to young folk fine training in the "do-ra-me" system of singing. As a leader in home dramatics, he also gathered around him some of the talented, and helped to provide wholesome, plays. Besides this good entertainment, there would often be a town party, in which young and old mingled to enjoy square dances," Virginia reels, and other pastimes. Hen Brown or some other pioneer fiddler would play the tunes and call the changes.

Frequently there were visits from leaders of the Church. One such visit was long to be remembered by the Battle Creek folk. Shortly after they had built their fort, Apostle George A. Smith came there to hold conference. As this leader was speaking out in the bowery that then served as a meeting place during the summer months, he looked about on the beautiful surrounding scenes - mountains, meadows, lake and streams. For a moment his eyes rested on a grove of green cottonwoods that stood just to the east of the fort.

Finally he said, "Brethren and Sisters, this town you call Battle Creek is not well named. Why don't you call it Pleasant Grove?"

The people approved the suggestion and from that day forth, the delightful place under picturesque Mount Timpanogos, where Ben and his folk had made their first home in the West, was called Pleasant Grove.