Chapter Two
In Minnesota the Indian and the white communities mixed like oil and water as more whites arrived. Missionaries came with the idea of educating everyone in the ways of a dominant culture. I enjoyed my years in school and learned to love reading and writing, especially. While at this school I had my first “Indian scare.” Our classes were held at the teacher’s small farm where he kept a few head of cows and their calves. We took care of the calves, grew attached to them and even named them.
But then I experienced the ugliness of growing hatred. One day an Indian staggering about in a drunken condition came to the corral, jumped in with his knife drawn, and killed every one of those little calves. We were terrified and sickened from the sight and screamed so loudly that my stepfather who was nearby heard and came on the run to drive the butcher away. As much as we cried over the sight of the savagery, I was destined to witness far more horrific scenes.
As the influx of white settlers grew, they kept wanting to push farther westward, thereby encroaching on the lands of the Wahpeton and Sisseton Dakota tribes. Alexander Ramsey and Henry Sibley persuaded the U. S. government to negotiate a purchase agreement from the Indians which they did in 1851. The Indians had to cave in to the proposals because their hunting grounds had become depleted, and a guaranteed annuity would buy the goods to clothe and feed them. So in July of that year, at a gathering of representatives from both sides, an agreement was reached whereby the tribes were to give up land and move to reservations.
After the signing, a huge celebration was held that made me wonder where all the champagne came from. Since it was also the occasion of my wedding to David Faribault, there was double the reason for celebrating. They said I looked so pretty in my white bridal dress.
Since David was a trader and moved around a lot for his business, I followed him and saw new country. Once we traveled to St. Louis on a steamboat on which I had a grand time and made friends. Upon returning, we settled in Shakopee for a time and then moved to Faribault. At the time of the uprising in August, 1862, we were residing at the Redwood Agency. David became known for his fair dealings and made many friends with the Indians. For instance, he continued extending credit when other traders wouldn’t. But white settlers came to him, too, and we enjoyed many social gatherings with them.
The times took a serious turn. In the summer of 1862, the Indians came to the agency to collect their annuities, but the money hadn’t arrived yet. The story given was that the shipment of gold had been delayed at Fort Ridgely. That was the match that ignited the explosion. It met with disbelief and anger, and soon we heard the first gunshots. A man came galloping through the settlement and shouting, “The Indians are killing all the white people at the agency! Run away, run away quick!” My husband decided to saddle our horses and escape, but then we saw a wagon hitched to oxen that was loaded with settlers heading toward us. The driver was whipping the beasts, but oxen only go so fast. “Will you hitch your horses to our wagon?” they pleaded. When they were ready to start rolling again, we saw Indians coming. David, our baby Mary, and I ran into the woods while the wagon sped off.
They found us, remembered David for his fair-dealing, and promised no harm if we’d surrender to them. Of course we agreed. Then we saw two more wagons pulled by oxen loaded with white people coming down the road. The Indians took after them and even though I pleaded loudly to show them mercy, we soon heard cries of anguish as they were being killed. I could tell many more horrifying tales, but it is too painful for me to recall. Nightmares visit me every night and don’t let me forget what I saw.
I could tell more about this period but don’t want to bore you. Very few of my fellow half-breed Indians took part in the uprising I’m proud to say. The whole affair ended when General Sibley took over and many of the rebels were sentenced to hang. Thirty-eight of them did. Remember those horses we loaned to pull the wagon? They made it to Fort Ridgely where one of them dropped dead upon arrival. The other was claimed by an Indian, but I stood my ground saying he was mine, and I intended to take him. I think he read determination in my eyes because he relented.
One more chapter needs to be written before I can travel to Fort Ransom.
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