From Reminiscences of Fifty Years in Texas by John J. Linn 1883

We of Victoria were startled by the apparition presented by the sudden appearance of six hundred mounted Comanches in the immediate outskirts of the village. The first supposition was that they were Lipans, who occasionally paid us friendly visits, but soon the intelligence came that the Indians had killed Mr. McNuner a mile north of town, and Dr. Gray, and also had wounded a boy. By these unmistakable tokens we were made aware of the fact that we were about surrounded by overwhelming numbers of these implacable enemies of the human race. The men of Victoria, some 50 in number, collected such arms as they could, but the folly of attempting anything against such numbers, and on foot, were apparent to all. The Indians were engaged in gathering up horses, as we could plainly see. Some Mexican traders were in Victoria at the time, and had about five hundred head of horses on the prairie in the immediate vicinity of town. All these the Comanches captured, besides a great many belonging to the citizens of the place.

A Mr. Crosby, who lived a mile below town, had come in in the morning, leaving his wife and little child at home. The Indians took Mrs. Crosby and the child prisoners. It was thought according to custom, that, having satisfied themselves with plunder, the Indians would retire toward their usual haunts before a force could be assembled to attack them. With this object in view about 50 of the best men in Victoria were mounted and dispatched to the settlement near Cuero Creek in DeWitt County, to get reinforcements and meet the Indians on their return. The Indians retired to Spring Creek near the mouth, in the timber, and so passed the Comanche encampment unobserved, and proceeded on their way. The Indians killed a white man on Spring Creek, named Vartland Richardson, and two Negro men, and took a negro girl prisoners. Contrary to all expectation, and at variance with their usual custom, the Indians did not retreat, but threatened the town again the next day. They dispersed themselves over the whole country and almost surrounded the town.

Four men returning from Jackson County encountered the savages a mile or two out of town. Pinknay Caldwell, who was riding a mule, made no effort to escape and was lanced to death on the spot. Another of the four, a Mexican, was overhauled and killed. Joseph Rodgers and the late Jesse O. Wheeler put spurs to their horses and won the race for life by the veriest good fortune; so close was Captain Wheeler pursued that his enemy did not draw rein until he had entered the streets of the town. The Indians burned a house on the outskirts of the town. The panic-stricken citizens all collected at the public square, and all were speculating with agonizing suspense upon the fate that would probably befall us. But fortunately for us, as it was fatal for others, the Indians passed Victoria and proceeded toward the bay, literally sweeping the whole country of horse stock as they went. They camped for the night on the Benavides Ranch, on the Placido Creek, distance 12 miles from Linnville. They intercepted two wagoners here, one of whom concealed himself in the high grass and saved his life by fleeing to Victoria under cover of the darkness. The other was killed, and in such close proximity to his hidden friend that he could hear him begging for his life. One of the wagons was loaded with two hogsheads of bacon. These the Comanches opened, but not fancying the contents, where fresh meat was so plentiful, unfastened the oxen that were attached to the wagon, and left it and the cargo untouched.

Mr. W. G. Ewing, a merchant of Linnville, en route to Victoria, passed these wagons on the roadside and saw the campfires of the Comanches on the creek close at hand, not dreaming of the gauntlet that he was unconsciously running. He imagined the Indian camp was some large Mexican train of wagons going to Linnville for goods. On reaching Victoria the next morning he was much surprised at the revelations that greeted his ears, and considerably troubled at the thought that six hundred hostile Indians interposed between himself and his home. His sister, Mrs. H. O. Watts was in Linnville. In three miles of Linville the Comanches killed two Negro men whom they found cutting hay. They immediately proceeded to surround the town and to pillage the stores and houses. The people took refuge on a lighter in the bay, and were soon aboard a schooner lying at anchor and safe from the Indians. Major Watts (H. O. Watts, the collector of customs) and Mr. O'Neill were killed and Mrs. Watts taken a prisoner. While the Indians were cutting up fantastic antics before high heaven in Linnville, the refugees on the schooner were the spectators, and witnessed with whatever feelings they could command the wanton destruction of their property.

Judge John Hays, however, became so exasperated that he vowed he would have one shot at the red devils anyway. So, grabbing a gun, the judge jumped overboard---the water was not over three or four feet deep---and waded to the shore, where, gun in hand, he stood upon the beach anxiously waiting for a Comanche to come within range of his gun. But the Indians imagined the judge was a 'big medicine' or something of the sort, and so steered clear of the awful fate in store for him who should invite the judge's fire. Finally the earnest petitions of his friends on the boat availed and the judge returned to them. Now, upon examining the old 'fusee' which threatened so lately to consummate such slaughter, it was discovered that the piece was not loaded! In my warehouse were several cases of hats and umbrellas belonging to Mr. James Robinson, a merchant of San Antonio. These the Indians made free with, and went dashing about the blazing village, amid their screeching squaws and little Injuns like demons in a drunken saturnalia, with Robinson's hats and Robinson's umbrellas bobbing about on every side like tipsy young balloons. In the afternoon the Comanches began to retire. They crossed the bayou near the old road, and there encamped for the night.

The Victoria men had now returned with some reinforcement from the Cuero settlement. On the morning of the 7th these fell in with a company of 120 men, commanded by Captain Zumaldt, of Lavaca County, and the whole encountered the Indians 12 miles east of Victoria, on a creek called the Mercado, where some skirmishing was indulged in, the whites losing one man, Mordeci. A few of the Indians used guns, the primitive bow and arrow being the arm mainly relied on. It is thought some of the Indians were killed and thrown into the creek to conceal the bodies. Some of Captain Zumaldt's men were anxious to charge them; and, when the disparity of arms is considered, the result must have been the rout of the Indians and their subsequent capture and annihilation. While this skirmish was in progress the Indians had scouts out in all directions; some of them crossed the Arenosa and killed Mr. Bell, taking his horse and equipment. In the afternoon the Indians called in their scouting parties by making a black smoke, and proceeded to the Casa Blanca, a branch of the Garcitas, where they encamped for the night. Zumaldt's men also went into camp, not far distant from the Indians, and despatched runners to Victoria for ammunition and provisions.

The wily Indians silently folded their tents in the night and stole away. Zumaldt saw no more of them until he ran into their rear as, they were crossing Plum Creek, and taking position in the post oak point beyond, on what was destined to be a fatal battle ground for them. Felix Huston, Ben McCulloch, and others had gathered a force of some four hundred volunteers, and the Indians should have been annihilated. Ewing came up with his sister, Mrs. Watts, just as an Indian boy had discharged, as he imagined, an arrow into her body. Fortunately she wore a steel corset, and the arrow, striking one of the broad bands of this, did her but little injury. Less fortunate was Mr. Crosby, who reached the side of his wife just in time to soothe with endearing offices her last moments. Despairing of effecting an escape with the prisoners, these inhuman monsters had resolved to kill them. The infant of Mrs. Crosby had been killed near Linnville and thrown on the roadside. The Indians were defeated in the engagement that ensued, and left some 25 dead on the field. But encumbered with plunder as they were, and principally armed with bows and arrows, they should have been entirely destroyed.

Several hundred head of horses and mules were recaptured, as were also immense quantities of dry goods. 'To the victors belong the spoils, and the Colorado men appropriated everything to themselves. Ewing recognized many of his goods in the captured property, but identification did him no good. Captain J. O. Wheeler, though 150 of the recaptured horses bore his brand, obtained with the greatest difficulty a horse to ride home. Mrs. Watts---later Mrs. Fretwell---states that she was taken under the protection of an old chief who placed her in charge of an ancient squaw. She relates that the Indians brought her a book from which to read to them the "laws of Texas," and upon her prompt compliance they laughed immoderately. When they started from Linnville they strapped her securely upon the back of a mule to prevent her falling off or attempting an escape. Such was the battle of Plum Creek.

The Battle of Plum Creek from Life of Robert Hall by "Brazos" 1898

The Battle of Plum Creek from Life of Robert Hall by "Brazos" 1898: The greatest battle that we ever had with the Comanches was the battle of Plum Creek. The generals of the little Texas army in this short campaign exhibited military ability of the very highest order, while the soldiers exposed themselves with reckless daring and charged at the word of command like Grecian heroes. Every man did his duty. The Comanches were greatly superior to us in number, but the battle was a crushing defeat, and was the end of the long reign of terror of these terrible red devils in Texas.

About five hundred Comanches, well armed and mounted on their best horses, slipped over the border and suddenly appeared in the vicinity of Victoria. They plundered and sacked the little town of Linnville and robbed every store and every house of everything valuable. Their dash into this part of the country was a complete surprise. As the long column marched across the prairies it presented a ludicrous sight. The naked warriors had tried to dress themselves in the clothing they had stolen. Many of them put on cloth coats and buttoned them behind. Most of them had on stolen shoes and hats. They spread the calico over their horses, and tied hundreds of yards of ribbon in their horses' manes and to their tails. These Indians had been preparing for this raid for a long time. They all had new white shields, and many of the warriors had long tails to their headgear.

We got the news at Gonzales that a strong column of Comanches had passed into the lower country, and we at once got into the saddle and marched to the rescue of our friends. We camped at Isham Good's first, and, not hearing any news, we were about to return home, when Ben McCulloch rode into camp. Goat Jones was with him. They reported that the Indians had plundered the lower country, and were returning on the same trail. Capt. Caldwell asked me to take a good man and scout to the front and see if I could see anything of the Indians. I took John Baker, and we rode all night. About daylight we came in sight of the Indians, about seven miles from our camp. We rode back and reported.

During my absence Gen. Felix Huston had been elected to the command of the army, and Ed Burleson had joined us with about one hundred men, including some fifteen Tonkaways. Gen. Huston asked me to take five picked men and ride to the front and select a good position to make the attack. I came in sight of them. They were on the prairie, and the column looked to be seven miles long. Here I witnessed a horrible sight. A captain and one man rode in among the Indians. The captain escaped, but I saw the Indians kill the private. I ordered my men to keep at a safe distance and pick off an Indian as the opportunity presented.

We skirmished with them for about two miles, when our army came up in fine and opened fire. It looked as if we were taking desperate chances, for I am sure that we only had 202 men, but every man was a veteran. Gen. Huston deserves great credit for the courage he displayed in this battle. He rode right with the fine, and never flinched under the most galling fire. At the first volley the Indians became demoralized, and it was easy to see that we had them beat just as we rode against them I received a bullet in the thigh. It made a terrible wound, and the blood ran until it sloshed out of my boots. I was compelled to dismount, or rather I fell off of my horse. After a moment I felt better and made an effort to rejoin the line of battle. I met an Indian, and was just in the act of shooting him when he threw up his hands and shouted "Tonkaway!"

While on the skirmish fine, an Indian dashed at Mr. Smitzer with a lance. I fired right in the Indian's face and knocked him off his horse, but I did not kill him. However, I got the fine hat he had stolen. While I was scrambling about, trying to staunch the blood that was flowing from my leg, I came across a great big fat negro woman, who was hiding in the grass. She no sooner saw me than she exclaimed: "Bless God, here is a white man once more." Her little child was hiding in the grass just like a frightened animal. If it had been big enough it would have run from me like a deer. Not far from the old Negro I found the body of Mrs. Crosby. There were two arrows in her body. They had passed clear through her. She was just gasping in death. She had been a prisoner, and the red devils had killed her when they saw they were defeated.

A little further on I found Mrs. Watts. They had shot an arrow at her breast, but her steel corset saved her life. It had entered her body, but Isham Good and I fastened a big pocket knife on the arrow and pulled it out. She possessed great fortitude, for she never flinched, though we could hear the breastbone crack when the arrow came out. She turned over on her side and bled a great deal, but she soon recovered. She was the wife of a custom house officer, and I think her maiden name was Ewing. She asked for poor Mrs. Crosby and told us that the Indians whipped the poor woman frequently and called her a "peon," because she could not read. They had stolen several books, and when in camp at night they would gather around Mrs. Watts and ask her to explain the pictures and read to them. Mrs. Watts' husband had been killed when the Indians sacked Linnville. She afterwards married Dr. Fretwell, and resided in Port Lavaca.

It has always been a mystery to me why the Indians became so terribly demoralized in this battle. It was fought on the open prairie, and they could easily see that they greatly outnumbered us. It is rather strange that they did not make a stand. It was one of the prettiest sights I ever saw in my life. The warriors flourished their white shields, and the young chiefs galloped about the field with the long tails streaming from their hats and hundreds of vari-colored ribbons floating in the air, exhibiting great bravado. Some of them dashed courageously very close to us, and two or three of them lost their lives in this foolhardy display of valor. Our boys charged with a yell and did not fire until they got close to the enemy. The Indians were panic stricken, and fled at once. The Texans followed them over the prairies for fifteen or twenty miles.

That night, around the camp-fire, many strange stories were told. One of the strangest was of an old black chief, whose head looked as if it had been nearly blown off. He gripped the horn of his saddle with his hands, and dozens of the boys declared that they struck him on the head with the butt of their muskets as they passed him. No blow could make him release his hold. Though dead and stiff, he remained on his war-horse. There was a good deal of talk of it at the time. I had almost forgotten the incident when I read the story of the headless rider of Woerth. This occurred during the Franco-German war. Newspaper readers will remember that a French colonel had his head shot off with a cannon ball, but he did not fall from his horse. The furious animal galloped about over the field during the whole battle, carrying on his back the headless colonel. Scientists talked and wrote about the affair and offered some sort of an explanation. I think they sald that the muscles in death became so rigid that no earthly power could cause them to relax. This must have been the case with the old Indian, for dozens of truthful men declared that he was as dead as a door nail, but that he still clung to his horse. The horse ran off in the woods with him, and his body was never found.

From the best information I could gather I think the boys killed about forty of the Comanches. We lost not a man, but seven were wounded: Robert Hall, Henry McCulloch, Arch Gibson, Columbus DeWitt, Dr. Smitzer, and two others, whose names I don't remember. The Tonkaways brought in the dead body of a Comanche warrior, and they built a big fire not far from where I was lying. My wound had begun to pain me considerably, and I did not pay much attention to them for some time. After awhile they began to sing and dance, and I thought that I detected the odor of burning flesh. I raised up and looked around, and, sure enough, our allies were cooking the Comanche warrior. They cut him into slices and broiled him on sticks. Curiously enough the eating of the flesh acted upon them as liquor does upon other men. After a few mouthfuls they began to act as if they were very drunk, and I don't think there was much pretense or sham about it. They danced, raved, howled and sang, and invited me to get up and eat a slice of Comanche. They said it would make me brave. I was very hungry, but not sufficiently so to become a cannibal. The Tonkaways were wild over the victory, and they did not cease their celebration until sunrise.

The boys captured the war chiefs cap. It was a peculiar affair, made of the finest of furs, and it had a tail attached to it at least thirty feet long. Several other fine caps were picked up on the field. About fifteen miles from Plum Creek the soldiers heard a child crying in a thicket. All were afraid that the noise was some ruse of the Indians to induce the Texans into an ambush, but finally one fool fellow declared that he would go in and see what it was. He found a little child, a boy, lying on the leaves by itself. The soldier brought it out, and it proved to be a child of the head chief of the Comanches. They brought it to camp, and old judge Bellinger adopted it. The little Indian did not live but three or four months.We captured the Indian pack train. The mules were loaded with household furniture, wearing apparel, and general merchandise. There were five hundred of these pack mules. The government had just received a supply of stores at Linnville, and the Indians had captured these. We hardly knew what to do with all this stuff, and we finally concluded to divide it among ourselves. Some days after I reached home the boys sent me a pack mule and a pack. In the pack there was a pillow and a bolster of home-made cloth and considerable dry goods. There were also coverlets, sheets, quilts, and clothing. If I had known who the stuff belonged to I would have, of course, returned it.

After some days my friends got an old buggy and hitched an old horse to it and made an effort to get me home. At the crossing of the San Marcos the old horse balked and refused to pull the vehicle up the hill. That made me mad, and I got out of the buggy and walked on home. I was tired and hungry, and I wanted to see Polly and get something to eat and have her dress my wound. Polly was glad to see me, for she thought I was dead. Old man King had gone home, and, from some cause, he had carried my shoes. He told Polly I would be home in a few days, but during the evening she found my shoes, full of blood, and she began to scream and upbraid her father. He then had to tell her the truth, but he insisted that I was only slightly wounded. Polly did not believe him, but when she saw me walking home she ran to meet me and declared that she never intended to let me go to fight Indians any more. This battle was fought on the 12th of August, 1840.

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Battle of Plum Creek

Miscellaneous Reports of Raid on Linnville and Plum Creek from Lavaca River Men under Capt. "Black" Adam Zumwalt.

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Known Texan Participants in The Battle of Plum Creek 12 August 1840 (From Brice, The Great Comanche Raid, diverse rosters and eyewitness reports; DeWitt Colonists are in bold italics)

Ackland, Christopher "Kit" Anderson Baker, John Baylor, R.E.B. Beatty, Edward Beitel, Joseph Belknap, James T Bell Bellinger, Judge Edmund Bennet, Miles S. Berry, Andrew Jackson Berry, James Berry, John Bate Berry, Joseph Billingsley, Jesse Bird, James Bird, Jonathan Birdwell, William Bostick, Sion Record Braches, Charles Brown, Dr. Caleb S. Brown, Dr. David F. Brown, John Hawkins Brown, John Henry Burleson, Edward Burleson. Jonathan Burleson, Joseph Jr. Burnam, Jesse Burnam, William Owen Caldwell, Mathew Carter, William J. S. Chalk, Whitfield Clopton, William Cocke, James D. Cordell, Owen N. Cox, Rev. Thomas J. Cushney, William H. Darlington, John W. Darst, David S. H. Day, Milford Dees, Gordon DeWees, William B. DeWitt, C. Columbus DeWolf Duty, William Earnest, Felix B. Fentress, Dr. James Friar, Daniel Boone Galbreath, Thomas Gipson, Archibald

Gipson, James Good, Isham Jones Gorman, James P. Grover, George W. Hall, Robert Hankins, Eli Skaggs Hardeman, Owen B. Hardeman, Thomas M. Hardeman, William P. Harvey, John Haynes, Charles Hays, John C. "Jack" Herron, John Harvey Highsmith, Benjamin F. Hill, A. W. Hornsby, Joe Howard, George Thomas Humphreys, Jacob J. Husbands Huston, Felix Izod, James Jenkins, John Holland Jones Henry Lawrence, Joseph Lee, Nelson Litton, Addison Litton, Frank M. Litton, John McCoy, John McCulloch, Benjamin McCulloch, Henry E. McCulloch, Samuel Magill, James P. Magill, William Harrison Martin, James F. Miller, Alsey S. Mills, James L. Moon, William W. Morrell, Rev. Z. N. Moss, James Murphree, David Neill, Andrew Neill, George Nichols, James W. Nichols, John Nichols, Thomas Ogsbury, Charles A. Oury, William Sanders Patton, James

Perry, Cicero Rufus  Pilgrim, Thomas J. Placido Porter, Elijah R. Randall, Barney Randle, Wilson Redfield. Henry Prentice Reid, Samuel Hutchinson Rice, James O. Roberts, Alexander "Buck" Rodarmel, Lemuel M. Rogers, Henry Rogers, John A. Jr. Rogers, John A. Sr. Rogers, Samuel C. A. Scarborough, William L. Shaw, Josiah Short, Thomas W. Smith, Ezekiel Smith, French Smith, James N. Smith, John L. Sowell, Andrew Sowell, John Stapp, Darwin M. Stapp, Oliver H. Stem, Isaac Phillip Sweitzer, Dr. Alonzo B. Sylvester, James A Taylor, Creed Thompson, Barry Thurmond, Alfred S. Wagner Wallace, Joseph Washington Elliot Wallace, William A. A. Waller, Judge Edwin Ward, Lafayette Wheeler, Jesse O. White, David N. White, John C. White, John M. White, Newton White, Peter White, Sam Addison White, Simon C. Wilburn, Caleb Winchel, Henry C. Wright, Charles 13 Tonkawa Warriors

General Huston's Report, Battle of Plum Creek, 12 August 1840.

On Plum Creek, Aug. 12, 1840
To Hon. T. B. Archer, Secretary of War

I arrived here yesterday evening and found Captain Caldwell encamped on Plum Creek with about one hundred men. This morning I was requested to take command, which I did with the consent of the men. I organized them into companies, under command of Captains Caldwell, Bird and Ward, About six o'clock the spies reported that the Indians were approaching Plum Creek. I crossed above the trail about three miles and passed down on the west side; on arriving near the trail I was joined by Colonel Burleson with about one hundred men, under the command of Colonel Jones, Lieutenant-Colonel Wallace and Major Hardeman. I immediately formed into two lines, the right commanded by Colonel Anderson and the left commanded by Captain Caldwell, with a reserve commanded by Major Hardeman, with Captain Ward's company. On advancing near the Indians they formed for action, with a front of woods on their right (which they occupied), their lines nearly a quarter of a mile into the prairie. I dismounted my men and a handsome fire was opened-the Indian chiefs cavorting around in splendid style, in front and flank, finely mounted, and dressed in all the splendor of Comanche warfare. At this time several Indians fell from their horses, and we had three or four of our men wounded. I ordered Colonel Burleson, with the right wing, to move around the point of woods, and Captain Caldwell, with the left wing, to charge into the woods; which movements were executed in gallant style. The Indians did not stand the charge, and fled at all points. From that time there was a warm and spirited pursuit for fifteen miles, the Indians scattered, mostly abandoning their horses and taking to the thickets. Nothing could exceed the animation of the men, and the cool and steady manner in which they would dismount and deliver their fire. Upwards of forty Indians were killed, two prisoners (a squaw and child) taken---we have taken upwards of two hundred horses and mules, and many of them heavily packed with the plunder of Linnville and the lower country. There is still a large number of good horses and mules which are not gathered up. Of the captives taken by the Indians below we have only been able to retake one---Mrs. Watts of Linnville, who was wounded by the Indians with an arrow when they fled. Mrs. Crosby was speared and we understand that all the others were killed. We have lost one killed and seven wounded, one mortally. I cannot speak too highly of the Colorado, Guadalupe and Lavaca militia, assembled so hastily together and without organization. I was assisted by Major Izod, Colonel Bell, Captain Howard and Captain Nell, as volunteer aids, all of whom rendered essential service. Colonel Burleson acted with that cool, deliberate and prompt courage and conduct which he has so often and gallantly displayed in almost every Indian and Mexican battle since the war commenced. Captain Caldwell, also a tried Indian fighter, led on his wing to the charge with a bold front and a cheerful heart. Colonel Jones, Lieutenant-Colonel Wallace, Major Hardeman, and each of the captains commanding companies, acted with the utmost courage and firmness.

To conclude, I believe we have given the Comanches a lesson which they will long remember; near four hundred of their brave warriors have been defeated by half their number, and I hope and trust that this will be the last of their depredations on our frontier. On tomorrow I contemplate embodying as many men as can, and if we have a sufficient number of good horses, pursue the Indians in the hopes that we may overtake them before they reach the mountains. Colonel Moore joined us this evening with about one hundred and seventy men; horses very hard ridden. I have the honor to be your most obedient servant.
FELIX HUSTON, Major-General T.M.

Description of The Council House Fight, Mary A. Maverick, 1896.

Description of The Council House Fight, Mary A. Maverick, 1896. [Photo: Mary A. Maverick and children]. A DAY OF HORRORS. On Tuesday, 19th of March, 1840, "dia de San Jose" sixty-five Comanches came into town to make a treaty of peace. They brought with them, and reluctantly gave up, Matilda Lockhart, whom they had captured with her younger sister in December 1838, after killing two other children of her family. The Indian chiefs and men met in council at the Court House, with our city and military authorities. The calaboose or jail then occupied the corner formed by the east line of Main Plaza and the north line of Calabosa (now Market) Street, and the Court House was north of and adjoining the hall. The Court House yard, back of the Court House, was what is now the city market on Market Street. The Court House and jail were of stone, one story, flat roofed, and floored with dirt. Captain Tom Howard's Company was at first in the Court House yard, where the Indian women and boys came and remained during the pow-wow. The young Indians amused themselves shooting arrows at pieces of money put up by some of the Americans; and Mrs. Higginbotham and myself amused ourselves looking through the picket fence at them. This was the third time these Indians had come for a talk, pretending to seek peace, and trying to get ransom money for their American and Mexican captives. Their proposition now was that they should be paid a great price for Matilda Lockhart, and a Mexican they had just given up, and that traders be sent with paint, powder, flannel, blankets and such other articles as they should name, to ransom the other captives. This course had once before been asked and carried out, but the smallpox breaking out, the Indians killed the traders and kept the goods---believing the traders had made the smallpox to kill them. Now the Americans, mindful of the treachery of the Comanches, answered them as follows:

"We will according to a former agreement, keep four or five of your chiefs, whilst the others of your people go to your nation and bring all the captives, and then we will pay all you ask for them. Meanwhile, these chiefs we hold we will treat as brothers and 'not one hair of their heads shall be injured.' This we have determined, and, if you try to fight, our soldiers will shoot you down."

This being interpreted, the Comanches instantly, with one accord raised a terrific war-whoop, drew their arrows, and commenced firing with deadly effect, at the same time making efforts to break out of the council hall. The order "fire" was given by Captain Howard (photo), and the soldiers fired into the midst of the crowd, the first volley killing several Indians and two of our own people. All soon rushed out into the public square, the civilians to procure arms, the Indians to flee, and the soldiers in pursuit. The Indians generally made for the river-they ran up Soledad, east on Commerce Street and for the bend, now known as Bowen's, southeast, below the square. Citizens and soldiers pursued and overtook them at all points, shot some swimming in the river, had desperate fights in the streets and hand to hand encounters after firearms had been exhausted. Some Indians took refuge in stone houses and fastened the doors. Not one of the sixty-five Indians escaped-thirty-three were killed and thirty-two were taken prisoners. Six Americans and one Mexican were killed and ten Americans wounded. Our killed were Julian Hood, the sheriff, Judge Thompson, advocate from South Carolina, G. W. Cayce from the Brazos, one officer and two soldiers whose names I did not learn, nor that of the Mexican. The wounded were Lieutenant Thompson, brother of the Judge, Captain Tom Howard, Captain Mat Caldwell, citizen volunteer from Gonzales, Judge Robinson, Mr. Morgan, deputy sheriff, Mr. Higginbotham and two soldiers. Others were slightly wounded.

When the deafening war whoop sounded in the Court room, it was so loud, so shrill and so inexpressibly horrible and suddenly raised, that we women looking through the fence at the women's and boy's marksmanship for a moment could not comprehend its purport. The Indians however knew the first note and instantly shot their arrows into the bodies of Judge Thompson and the other gentleman near by, instantly killing Judge Thompson. We fled into Mrs. Higginbotham's house and I, across the street to my Commerce Street door. Two Indians ran past me on the street and one reached my door as I got in. He turned to raise his hand to push it just as I beat down the heavy bar; then he ran on. I ran in the north room and saw my husband and brother Andrew sitting calmly at a table inspecting some plats of surveys-they had heard nothing. I soon gave them the alarm, and hurried on to look for my boys. Mr. Maverick and Andrew seized their arms, always ready, Mr. Maverick rushed into the street, and Andrew into the back yard where I was shouting at the top of my voice "Here are Indians!" "Here are Indians" Three Indians had gotten in through the gate on Soledad street and were making direct for the river! One had paused near Jinny Anderson, our cook, who stood bravely in front of the children, mine and hers, with a great rock lifted in both hands above her head, and I heard her cry out to the Indian "If you don't go 'way from here I'll mash your head with this rock!" The Indian seemed regretful that he hadn't time to dispatch Jinny and her brood, but his time was short, and pausing but a moment, he dashed down the bank into the river and struck out for the opposite shore. As the Indian hurried down the bank and into the river Andrew shot and killed him, and shot another as he gained and rose on the opposite bank, then he ran off up Soledad street looking for more Indians. I housed my little ones, and then looked out of the Soledad Street door. Near by was stretched an Indian, wounded and dying. A large man, journey-apprentice to Mr. Higginbotham, came up just then and aimed a pistol at the Indian's head. I called out: "Oh, don't, he is dying," and the big American laughed and said: "To please you, I won't, but it would put him out of his misery." Then I saw two others lying dead near by.

Captain Lysander Wells, about this time, passed by riding north on Soledad Street. He was elegantly dressed and mounted on a gaily caparisoned Mexican horse with silver mounted saddle and bridle-which outfit he had secured to take back to his native state, on a visit to his mother. As he reached the Verimendi House, an Indian who had escaped detection, sprang up behind him, clasped Wells' arms in his and tried to catch hold of the bridle reins. Wells was fearless and active. They struggled for some time, bent back and forward, swayed from side to side, till at last Wells held the Indian's wrists with his left hand, drew his pistol from the holster, partly turned, and fired into the Indian's body-a moment more and the Indian rolled off and dropped dead to the ground. Wells then put spurs to his horse which had stood almost still during the struggle, dashed up the street and did good service in the pursuit. I had become so fascinated by this struggle that I had gone into the street almost breathless, and wholly unconscious of where I was, till recalled by the voice of Lieutenant Chavallier who said: "Are you crazy? Go in or you will be killed." I went in but without feeling any fear, though the street was almost deserted and my husband and brother both gone in the fight. I then looked out on Commerce street and saw four or five dead Indians. I was just twenty-two then, and was endowed with a fair share of curiosity. Not till dark did all our men get back, and I was grateful to God, indeed, to see my husband and brother back alive and not wounded.

Captain Mat Caldwell, or "Old Paint," as he was familiarly called, our guest from Gonzales, was an old and famous Indian fighter. He had gone from our house to the Council Hall unarmed. But when the fight began, he wrenched a gun from an Indian and killed him with it, and beat another to death with the butt end of the gun. He was shot through the right leg, wounded as he thought by the first volley of the soldiers. After breaking the gun, he then fought with rocks, with his back to the Court House wall. Young G. W. Cayce had called on us that morning, bringing an introductory letter from his father to Mr. Maverick, and placing some papers in his charge. He was a very pleasant and handsome young man and it was reported, came to marry Gertrudes Navarro, Mrs. Dr. Alsbury's sister. He left our house when I did, I going to Mrs. Higginbotham's and he to the Council Hall. He stood in the front door of the Court House, was shot and instantly killed at the beginning of the fight, and fell by the side of Captain Caldwell. The brother of this young man afterwards told me he had left home with premonition of his death being very near. Captain Caldwell was assisted back to our house and Dr. Weideman came and cut off his boot and found the bullet had gone entirely through the leg, and lodged in the boot, where it was discovered. The wound, though not dangerous, was very painful, but the doughty Captain recovered rapidly and in a few days walked about with the aid of a stick.

After the captain had been cared for, I ran across to Mrs. Higginbotham's. Mr. Higginbotham, who was as peaceful as a Quaker to all appearances, had been in the fight and had received a slight wound. They could not go into their back yard, because two Indians had taken refuge in their kitchen, and refused to come out or surrender as prisoners when the interpreter had summoned them. A number of young men took counsel together that night, and agreed upon a plan. Anton Lockmar and another got on the roof, and, about two hours after midnight dropped a candlewick ball soaked in turpentine, and blazing, through a hole in the roof upon one Indian's head and so hurt him and frightened them both that they opened the door and rushed out to their death. An axe split open the head of one of the Indians before he was well out of the door, and the other was killed before he had gone many steps thus the last of the sixty-five were taken. The Indian women dressed and fought like the men, and could not be told apart. As I have said thirty-three were killed and thirty-two taken prisoners. Many of them were repeatedly summoned to surrender, but numbers refused and were killed. All had a chance to surrender, and every one who offered or agreed to give up was taken prisoner and protected.

What a day of horrors! And the night was as bad which followed. Lieutenant Thompson, who had been shot through the lungs, was taken to Madam Santita's house, on Soledad Street, just opposite us, and that night he vomited blood and cried and groaned all night. I shall never forget his gasping for breath and his agonizing cries. Dr. Weideman sat by and watched him, or only left to see the other sufferers, nearby; no one thought he would live till day, but he did, and got to be well and strong again, and in a few weeks walked out. The captive Indians were all put in the calaboose for a few days and while they were there our forces entered into a twelve days truce with them---the captives acting for their Nation. And, in accordance with the stipulations of the treaty, one of the captives, an Indian woman, widow of a chief, was released on the 20th, the day after the fight. She was given a horse and provisions and sent to her Nation to tell her people of the fight and its result. She was charged to tell them, in accordance with the truce, to bring in all their captives, known to be fifteen Americans and several Mexicans, and exchange them for the thirty-two Indians held. She seemed eager to effect this, and promised. to do her best. She said she would travel day and night, and could go and return within five days. The other prisoners thought she could in five days return with the captives from the tribe. The Americans said "very well we give twelve days truce and if you do not get back by Thursday night of the 28th, these prisoners shall be killed, for we will know you have killed our captive friends and relatives."

(Left: 1837 watercolor of the Alamo by Mary Adams Maverick, wife of Samuel Maverick).   In April, as I shall mention again, we were informed by a boy, named B. L. Webster, that when the squaw reached her tribe and told of the disaster, all the Comanches howled, and cut themselves with knives, and killed horses, for several days. And they took all the American captives, thirteen in number, and roasted and butchered them to death with horrible cruelties; that he and a little girl named Putman, five years old, had been spared because they had previously been adopted into the tribe. Our people did not, however, retaliate upon the captives in our hands. The captive Indians were all put into the calaboose, corner Market Street and the public square and adjoining the courthouse, where all the people in San Antonio went to see them. The Indians expected to be killed, and they did not understand nor trust the kindness which was shown them and the great pity manifested toward them. They were first removed to San Jose Mission, where a company of soldiers was stationed, and afterwards taken to Camp "Cook," named after W. G. Cook, at the head of the river, and strictly guarded for a time. But afterwards the strictness was relaxed, and they gradually all, except a few, who were exchanged, escaped and returned to their tribe. They were kindly treated and two or three of them were taken into families as domestics, and were taught some little, but they too, at last, silently stole away to their ancient freedom. 

Mary A. Adams Maverick (1818-1898) was the wife of Samuel Maverick who moved to Texas from Alabama in March 1835  and eventually settled in San Antonio.  Fortunately she kept notes of her experiences and in 1896 with the help of a son organized and edited her papers into memoirs primarily for the benefit of descendants.  In 1921 a granddaughter, Rena Maverick Green further edited and organized the papers into Memoirs of Mary A. Maverick.  The memoirs have been reprinted in several forms both in Samuel Maverick Texan, 1803-1878:   A Collection of Letters, Journals and Memoirs edited Rena Maverick Green (1952) and as Memoirs of Mary A. Maverick.  The original papers are available to the  public in the Maverick Family Papers, Eugene C. Barker Texas History Collection, Center for American History, University of Texas at Austin.

Council House Fight

Report of the Council House Fight, 19 March 1840 by Commissioner McLeod. Increasing resistance of Republic of Texas minutemen to Comanche theft, vandalism and depredation in the Republic led to a proposal of Comanche chiefs for a lasting peace. The Chiefs and Republic of Texas officials, Col. Hugh McLeod and William S. Fisher agreed to a meeting in San Antonio in which 13 known kidnap victims held by Comanches would be released. For security, two companies of Col. Fisher's Regulars were placed at the site. The Comanches arrived with only hostage Matilda Lockhart who had been captured in 1838 (see Putman-Lockhart Kidnappings). They were asked why the others were not brought in as had been agreed upon. The leading chief of the Comanches replied that Matilda Lockhart was their only prisoner and that the others were scattered among other tribes. This was disputed by Matilda Lockhart. She quietly informed Colonel Karnes and the commissioners that the other prisoners were left in the Indian camp and were planned to be used for ransom payments. The chiefs were told by Colonel Karnes and should be kept as prisoners until all the commissioners that they had violated their pledge and that they the women and children held by them were brought in, according to agreement; that they might send their young men to the tribe for the other captives and as soon as they were delivered, his juncture Captain Howard they would be liberated. At posted sentinels at the doors and drew up his men across the room. Commissioner McLeod reported the event as follows:

"We told the Indian chiefs that the soldiers they saw were their guards, and descended from the platform. The chiefs immediately followed. One sprang to the back door and attempted to pass the sentinel who presented his musket, when the chief drew his knife and stabbed him. A rush was made to the door. Captain Howard collared one of them and received a severe stab from him in the side. He ordered the sentinel to fire upon him, which he immediately did, and the Indian fell dead. They then all drew their knives and bows and evidently resolved to fight to the last. Colonel Fisher ordered his men to fire if they did not desist. The Indians rushed on, attacking us desperately, and a general order to fire became necessary. After a short but desperate struggle every one of the twelve chiefs and captains in the council lay dead upon the floor, but not until, in the hand to hand struggle, they had wounded a number of persons. The indoor being finished, Captain Howard's company was formed in front to prevent retreat in that direction, but in consequence of his wound he was relieved by Captain Gillen, who commanded the Company until the close of the action. Captain Redd whose company was formed in the rear of the building, was attacked in the yard by the warriors who fought like wild beasts. The Indians took refuge in some stone buildings from which they kept up a galling fire with bows and arrows and a few rifles. Their arrows, wherever they struck one of our men, were driven to the feathers. A small number of Indians escaped across the river, but they were pursued by Major Lysander Wells with a few mounted men, and all killed. The only one of the warriors in the council house who escaped was a renegade Mexican. He was among those who slipped away unobserved. A single warrior took refuge in a stone building refusing every overture sent him by squaws and succeeded in killing and wounding several until after nightfall when a bag of rags soaked in turpentine and ignited, was dropped through the smoke escape in the roof onto his head. Thus in a flame of fire he sprang through the door and was riddled with bullets. In such an action---so unexpected, so sudden and terrible---it was impossible at times to distinguish between the sexes and three squaws were killed. The short struggle was fruitful in blood. Our losses were, killed: Judge Hood, San Antonio; Judge Thompson, Houston; a Mr. Carey of Matagorda County; Lieutenant W. Al. Dunilington, first infantry; privates Kaminske and Whitney, and a Mexican. The wounded were: Captain George F. Howard, Lieutenant Edward A. Thompson, Private Kelley, Captain Mathew Caldwell, Judge James W. Robinson, and Messrs. Morgan, Carson and Higginbotham. The Indian loss was thirty chiefs and warriors, three squaws and two children killed. Prisoners taken included twenty-seven women and children and two old men. Over a hundred horses and a large quantity of buffalo robes and peltries remained for the victors. By request of the prisoners an old squaw was released, mounted, provisioned and allowed to go to her people and say to them that the prisoners would be released whenever the Texas prisoners held by the Indians were brought in. A short time afterwards, a party of Comanches displayed a white flag on a hill some distance from town, evidently afraid to come nearer. When a flag was sent out, it was found that they had brought in several white children to exchange for the imprisoned Indians. The exchange was made and the Indians hurried back to their camps."

I have no idea who this person is but I thought his story on coming to Texas was interesting.

From the Diary of Thomas J. Pilgrim

In the fall of 1828, 1 started from the western part of the state of New York for Texas. I was in a company with 60 other men, women and children. We were led by Elias R. Wightman, who had lived for about 3 years there and was well fitted to be the leader. We traveled in wagon to Olean Point, on the head waters of the Alleghany River. There we built a raft in two pieces. In it we placed our baggage and pushed off to drift with the current. The first day we had no trouble, but by night we were cold and wet. We sought shelter in an Indian village on the north bank of the stream. The old chief seemed moved with pity at our condition, for the weather was very bad. He took us to a cabin about 20 feet square, with a good floor and a fireplace. The floor was covered with peas and beans in the shuck, which he showed us could be scraped up into one corner and a fire made in the fireplace. Truly grateful for his kindness, we soon had a good fire and a plain but tasty meal and all slept soundly. The next day being Sunday, we remained and spent it in such devotional exercises as circumstances would permit. Monday morning we again started on our voyage, having taken on board a pilot to go with us as far as Pittsburgh. About noon we heard a roaring ahead that sounded like a waterfall, but we learned that it came from a dam built across the stream. On one side was a mill. On the other a narrow space was left, through which a gentle current flowed and where the boats or rafts could pass safely. But our pilot kept in the center of the current, and we passed over a fall about 4 feet high. Everyone was drenched with water.

We all fell to dipping out water with such vessels as we could find and were soon on our way again. Before night we overtook a raft of pine plank and climbed on it. When we reached Pittsburgh, we discharged our pilot who had caused us much trouble and done us little good. At Pittsburgh we had intended to take a steamer, but finding none ready to leave, we continued on our raft to Cincinnati. We remained there for several days, and I bought a set of Spanish books and began to study the language. Soon we took passages on a steamer for New Orleans and in due time reached that city. We remained there about two weeks, waiting for a ship. At length we found a little vessel from Maine, run by just three men and only one of these was very capable. The captain offered either to sell us the vessel for five hundred dollars or to take us to Texas for that amount. We accepted the latter offer and provided ourselves suitably for the voyage. Before long we were drifting down the Mississippi in perfect calm, at the mercy of the current. This calm continued for many days, until we were far out of sight of land. We were now on the Gulf, drifting about we knew not where, and there was not enough breeze to move the vessel. Finally the wind rose and blew a gale straight ahead. Soon all on board were seasick except the crew and me and many wished that they had never started. For two days the gale continued, and then again there was a perfect calm. And thus gale and calm succeeded each other until we found ourselves off the entrance to Matagorda Bay. The wind was blowing directly out of the pass, and there was little chance of being able to enter, but we resolved to try. Of all those on board, but the crew, I was the only one who knew how to sail a vessel, and the work falling on me was great. Besides we were nearly out of food. For several days we had only one-half pint each of water daily. Part of the time I drank none of mine, giving it to the children. It was plain that we must do everything possible to make harbor soon. For 24 hours we beat against wind and current, but all in vain. We actually lost 3 miles. Finally we ran down to Aransas and entered the Bay safely. Soon all was landed. Fires were made and water was secured. The women did some badly needed washing of clothes. Twelve of the men took their rifles and went in search of game, leaving only the captain, the mate and myself behind.

The vessel was anchored about 200 yards from shore. We had been there only about an hour when we saw several canoes coming down the bay with Indians. These we knew to be Karankawas, who were said to be cannibals. As there wasnly one old musket on board, we feared for the safety of the women and children. The Indians landed and went in the direction of the women. The mate and I jumped into our little boat. He took the oars, and I took the old musket and we rowed toward the Indians, but kept between them and the women. We drew near the Indians and I kept the musket pointed toward the chief, who motioned for me not to fire and made signs of friendship. This position we kept for some time, for we were hoping that the hunters would soon return. They did so presently and we then felt safe. The women were taken on board first and then the men. Lastly, a few Indians were allowed to come. They showed no unfriendliness. Their canoes were well stored with fish, all neatly dressed. They traded to us as many fish as we needed and then left. We were truly glad to have escaped so well. After staying here for several days and supplying ourselves with water and such food as we could get, we again set sail. The wind was now fair and we shaped our course off Pass Caballo. The Captain gave me the helm and went to his berth for sleep. In a few minutes the wind had died down and it was calm. I thought our chance for landing was small and so told Mr. Wightman. I told him I had charge of the vessel, and if he thought best I would beach her, and we would make our way as best we could by land. He said that would never do, for we were more than a hundred miles from any white settlement. We would have no means of travel by land, and the country was full of hostile Indians. Our only safety was in staying with the vessel.

I awoke the captain, who at once saw our danger. We decided to try to make it up the pass. The mate and I went ahead in the boat and sounded it. Then taking a long rope, we guided our vessel into the bay. Soon we were within 2 miles of Matagorda, which then contained two families. The next day Mr. Wightman went to the settlement. He returned with the present of a Christmas dinner, which consisted of some hominy and fresh milk. We promptly ate it. The next day, we landed having been 22 days from New Orleans. Some went to work at once to build homes on the spot. Five young men started up the country. We were told it was 22 miles to a settlement and as we had been so long on board a ship, we thought it would be easy to walk this distance. We started without a blanket or over garment and with only three little biscuits. This was the last of December, and the country was nearly covered with water. The only road was a dim trail through the high grass. About noon the rain began to fall in torrents, and the wind blew strong from the north. The water grew deeper and night was coming, with no sign of a settlement. Three of the men declared they would go no farther, I told them that if they stayed there it meant certain death, but they said if life depended on it they could go no farther. Near us was an old liveoak, which had fallen and lain there for ages. On the underside of its trunk we built a fire, which we kept burning through the night. Having enough tall grass to raise us above the water, we laid down and rested quite well, in spite of the rain and wind. In the morning we arose and started out in the rain, wind and water. We had gone only about a mile when we heard the crowing of chickens. Soon we struck a plain path and were shortly at the home of Daniel Rawls. here we found plenty of food, for which no charge was made. The rain continued to fall and in the evening of the second day, we saw a miserable looking object coming. He was one of our number whom we had left behind. He had left with another, from whom he had become separated on the way. Two horses were soon ready to go and hunt for him. Mr. Rawls riding one horse and I the other. When darkness overtook us we entered a thicket and staked out our horses. By breaking off limbs of bushes and covering them with long moss, we made a bed above the water, on which we slept.

In the morning we continued our way to Matagorda, only to find that the lost man had not returned. Hearing nothing of him, we retraced our steps and found that in our absence he had come in. Here we all remained until the weather cleared up, when we separated and left. The others went eastward to the Brazos, I on foot and alone, made my way north to San Felipe, about 60 miles distant.

The McCoys

The McCoy's were on my Mothers side of the Family

Jesse McCoy, 32, born 1804 in Gyrosburg, Tennessee, a resident of Gonzales and Private rifleman in the Gonzales Rangers.

He was son of John and Martha Dunbar McCoy who were among the first settlers of the DeWitt Colony at Old Station on

the Lavaca. Jesse McCoy arrived with his parents in the DeWitt Colony on 9 Mar 1827 from MO where he received one

fourth league. His tract on which he paid his first installment "At Gonzales, this 4th of July 1835, we having been appointed by

the Ayto of Gonzales as Commissioners of the State for collecting the State dues for lands under the 25 art of the law of the

24th of March, 1825 certify that we have been paid the sum of three Dollars and ninety cents and 5/6 in full of first installments

in Jesse McCoy's Quarter of a league of land deeded to him by the Commissioner Jose Antonio Navarro. Thomas R. Miller

Adam Zumwalt B. D. McClure" was on the east bank of the Guadalupe River south of Gonzales on the current

Gonzales-DeWitt County border. The author's 3rd great grandparents David and Mary Ann Zumwalt Burket purchased a

portion on the tract after their return in 1837 from the Run Away Scrape. Jesse McCoy's widow was named Kitty.

Jesse McCoy's father and family of four received a sitio of land next to Jesse McCoy's tract at the same time. Father John

"Devil" or "Padre" McCoy as he was known by Indians and the Mexicans, respectively, was the head of the McCoy clan in TX

and Indian fighter in LincolnCo, MO before coming to TX. John McCoy and members of the Zumwalt family served together

in Daniel Boone’s Mounted Rangers in MO and directly under his son Capt. Nathan Boone in LincolnCo, MO. On 12 Apr

1834, Jesse McCoy requested "...to have his stock mark and Brand recorded which he says is as follows--Ear mark a

swallow fork in each ear and an under bit in the left, and his brand the letters J and T joined which he declares to

be his true mark and that he has no other." A claim presented to the House of Representatives and the Senate of the

Republic of Texas in Dec 1837 by "Alamo widow" Kitty McCoy suggests that Jesse provided supplies to the young Texas

Army: "...the first auditor is authorized to audit the claim of the widow Kitty McCoy as per vouchers of Byrd

Lockhart and Colonel William H. Patton for beef and corn valued at three hundred and seventy dollars in military

script." Joseph Rowe, Speaker of the House (signed); S.H. Everett, Pres. Pro Tem Senate (signed); Approved by Sam

Houston (signed).

RUNAWAY SCRAPE. The term Runaway Scrape was the name Texans applied to the flight from their homes when Antonio López de Santa Anna began his attempted conquest of Texas in February 1836. The first communities to be affected were those in the south central portions of Texas around San Patricio, Refugio, and San Antonio. The people began to leave that area as early as January 14, 1836, when the Mexicans were reported gathering on the Rio Grande. When Sam Houston arrived in Gonzales on March 11 and was informed of the fall of the Alamo, he decided upon retreat to the Colorado River and ordered all inhabitants to accompany him. Couriers were dispatched from Gonzales to carry the news of the fall of the Alamo, and when they received that news, people all over Texas began to leave everything and make their way to safety. Houston's retreat marked the beginning of the Runaway Scrape on a really large scale. Washington-on-the-Brazos was deserted by March 17, and about April 1 Richmond was evacuated, as were the settlements on both sides of the Brazos River. The further retreat of Houston toward the Sabine left all of the settlements between the Colorado and the Brazos unprotected, and the settlers in that area at once began making their way toward Louisiana or Galveston Island. The section of East Texas around Nacogdoches and San Augustine was abandoned a little prior to April 13. The flight was marked by lack of preparation and by panic caused by fear both of the Mexican Army and of the Indians. The people used any means of transportation or none at all. Added to the discomforts of travel were all kinds of diseases, intensified by cold, rain, and hunger. Many persons died and were buried where they fell. The flight continued until news came of the victory in the battle of San Jacinto. At first no credence was put in this news because so many false rumors had been circulated, but gradually the refugees began to reverse their steps and turn back toward home, many toward homes that no longer existed.

More About The Canon

Battle of Gonzales October 1835 The "Lexington-Concord" of Texas

Centralista Dictatorship. Through the summer of 1835, DeWitt Colonists, the majority who were loyal Federalist Mexican citizens, followed closely with increasing alarm the assumption of dictatorial powers by Santa Anna, the annulment of the liberal Constitution of 1824, dissolution of the legislature of Coahuila y Texas and, particularly, reports of his brutal tyranny, rape and pillaging of any one who opposed. The news of how the dictator rewarded troops with two days of rape and looting of the citizenry of Zacatecas for their resistance was particularly frightening to those with developed homesteads and families. On a visit to Gonzales after returning from Mexico City, Edward Gritten, reputedly a friend of Santa Anna himself, found the DeWitt Colonists still loyal to the Mexican government, desirous of peace, but ready to resist any centralista troops that entered the area other than those in support of the Constitution of 1824. Gritten managed to convince Colonel Ugartechea, commander of Mexican forces in San Antonio, to send letters of assurance that troops were not coming to the colony. At this time, the majority of DeWitt Colonists still opposed overt and armed resistance to the Mexican authorities and disapproved of the more aggressive talks about war and independence going on in San Felipe throughout 1835. In fact, Dewitt Colonists distributed the letters of assurance from Ugartechea to other settlements to show justification for their loyalty to the government and disapproval of insurrection.

Skepticism and mistrust increased rapidly when the brutality of the Centralista troops became reality within DeWitt Colony territory rather than distal theory and propaganda of firebrand Texas "hawks" and War Party members. Without provocation a Mexican soldier attacked Jesse McCoy in Adam Zumwalt’s store with the butt of his rifle and news of the altercation spread rapidly among the outlying farms and ranches of the colony.

Recall of the Gonzales Cannon. As part of the disarmament of Texians or the consolidation of armaments for suppression of Federalist sentiments by the Centralista (Santanista) dictatorship, the military authorities in San Antonio requested the return of a cannon which had been "loaned" to the DeWitt Colonists in 1831 for protection against Indians.   The cannon was likely among a variety of cannons captured from the Republican Army of the North at the Battle of Alazan, some of which were spiked by the Spanish crown forces, which had been stored in the arsenal at San Antonio. In response to a formal request in Jan 1831 by Empresario Greene DeWitt for armaments to buttress defense against Indian raiders, Jefe-Politico Ramon Musquiz approved delivery of a cannon on Mar 1831.  Musquiz advised the military commander at Bexar, Antonio Elozua, that a bronze four or six pounder could be given to the colony upon his approval.  Elozua approved provided that an appropriate receipt was obtained.  On 10 Mar 1831, James Tumlinson signed for the weapon, a bronze gun, and transported it to Gonzales. Musquiz informed DeWitt in writing the specific terms of the receipt that he expected:

"On March __, 1831, I the Empresario of this colony, I Green DeWitt admit that I received from ___ a reinforced bronze cannon for the defense of this settlement against the savage Indians which are making hostilities against it.  I offer to maintain the said cannon in the same state in which I received it and am obligated to return it as soon as it is asked for by the principle commander of the army in this department." 

It was a relatively useless cannon for real defense since it probably had been "spiked" after capture from the Republican Army, presumably to prevent use of it against the Spanish authorities if recaptured. A spiked cannon is one in which the hole towards the rear where the powder is that is used for ignition and firing has been blocked with a metal spike. This reduced the cannon to largely a noisemaker, which must be fired by laying a wick along the length of the muzzle from the powder packed behind whatever one wanted to try to pack into the cannon and fire inefficiently from it. The cannon was mostly displayed and occasionally fired from the log fort overlooking the ferry crossing at Gonzales to signal nearby Indians that their presence was noted and to think seriously before attempting some thievery or vandalism. Colonel Domingo Ugartechea, military commander at San Antonio under General Martin Perfecto Cos (Santa Anna’s brother-in-law), sent a Corporal DeLeon and several men to obtain the cannon from alcalde Andrew Ponton under the pretense that it was needed for defense of San Antonio. DeWitt Colonists knew well that the cannon was essentially useless for full military defense without extensive overhaul and that there were many more of these type unmounted tubes in the arsenal at San Antonio. When Corporal DeLeon arrived on 25 Sep 1835, a poll taken by alcalde Ponton indicated that all but three citizens contacted were against giving up the cannon. Gonzales and surrounding DeWitt Colonists prepared for trouble, moving families together to safety, consolidating weapons and supplies and dispatching messengers through the countryside and surrounding settlements. The cannon was buried in G.W. Davis’ peach orchard in the west outer Gonzales town.

Ponton Letter to Musquiz. On 26 Sep alcalde Andrew Ponton sent the following letter to Jefe-Politico Ramon Musquiz (unedited):

Gonzales Sept 26th 1835.  Excellent Sir.  I received an order purporting to have come from you for a certain piece of Ordnance which is in this place. It happened that I was absent an so was the remainder part of the Ayuntamto when your dispatch arrived in consequence the men who bore sd dispatch were necessarily detained untill to day for an answer. This is a matter of delicasy to me nor do I know without further information how to act this cannon was as I have always been informed given in perpetuity to this Town for its defense against the Indians. The dangers which existed at the time we received this cannon still exist and for the same purposes it is still needed here---our common enemy is still be dreaded or prepared against. How or in what manner such arms are appropriated throughout the country I am as yet ignorant but am led to believe that dippositions of this nature should be permanent at least as long as the procuring cause exists. I must therefore I hope be excused from delivering up the sd cannon untill I have obtained more information on the subject matter. At least untill I have an opportunity of consulting the chief of this department on the subject---as well to act without precipitation---as to perform strictly and clearly my duty, and I assure you, that if, after a mature deliberation on the subject, I find it be my duty & in justice to your self---I obligate my self to comply with your demands---and will without delay send the cannon to you.  God & Liberty---ANDREW PONTON, Alcalde.

Confrontation on the Guadalupe River. Upon receipt of the above letter, Col. Ugartechea sent Lt. Francisco Castaneda from San Antonio with over a hundred men to demand the cannon, but to avoid confrontation if at all possible. Castaneda was authorized to arrest the alcalde and others who resisted and to bring them to Bexar as prisoners. On 29 Sep, Castaneda’s forward messengers met Pvt. Isabel de la Garza who reported that he with Corporal DeLeon and his men had been detained and disarmed by the colonists, but he had escaped the afternoon of the day before. Later in the day Castaneda met another member of the DeLeon party who had been released who confirmed the report and further reported that men were assembling over the last two days in Gonzales and now was near 200. In the afternoon of 29 Sep, Lt. Castaneda’s force arrived within several miles of the west bank of the Guadalupe. Castaneda had sent advance messengers to the river bank prior to his arrival requesting a meeting with alcalde Ponton, but had been informed that the alcalde was not available and only he could make an official decision regarding the cannon. The next morning the Mexican troops arrived on the west bank of the Guadalupe where all rafts, boats or barges for fording the river which was swollen at the time from rain in the area had been removed to the east bank by the colonists. Casteneda again requested a meeting with the alcalde, but was greeted from across the river by regidor Joseph Clements who again informed Casteneda that alcalde Ponton was unavailable, but at 4 PM he should arrive or otherwise as regidor, Clements would speak for him. Spread among the bushes and trees on the east bank were a group of armed colonists who became known as the "Original Old Gonzales 18."

Regidor Clement Refuses Demand for Cannon. Being unable to cross the river easily and with the colonists spread across the east bank, Lt. Castaneda communicated in the afternoon with regidor Clements and associates under elected Capt. Albert Martin by shouting across the river. The colonists allowed one Mexican messenger to swim across and deliver messages. The words of regidor Joseph Clements reflected the position of the colonists which had been arrived at previously in downtown Gonzales on the municipal plaza:

Gonzales Sept 30th 1835.  Sir.  Owing to the absence of the alcalde the duty has devolved upon me of answering the communication directed to the Alcalde of this Town demanding agin the cannon which is in this Town as well as in answer to your note wishing to open negociation on the subject.  In answer to the first demand made for the sd cannon  The Alcalde espressed his coubts of what was strictly his duty in the matter, and wished to consult the Political chief of this Department before he decided possitively in the case and fanally---This rigor Priveledg of consulting our chief seems is denied us the only answer I can therefore give youis that I cannot now will not deliver to you the cannon agreeable to my notions of peopriety---And these are also the sentiments of all the members of this Ayuntamiento who are now present. The sd cannon is now in this Town and if force it from us we must submit---We are weak and few in numbers but will nevertheless contend for what we believe to be just principles.  God and Liberty Joseph D. Clements Regigor.  Addressed:  Franco Castenada, En el llano en frente de Gonzales.

Parleys Fail--Colonists take the Offensive. Lt. Castaneda retired from the river bank and on the night of 29 Sep camped on high ground about 300 yards from the river on a spot subsequently known as DeWitt’s or Santa Anna’s Mound. Meanwhile, Dr. Launcelot Smithers who was in San Antonio at the time of the confrontation interceded with Col. Ugartechea and offered to act as peacemaker and negotiator between the colonists and Mexican forces if he would order his soldiers to refrain from hostile action. Also in the meantime, Capt. Martin was replaced by election as commander of the Texans as contingents from the current Fayette county area under Col. John Henry Moore, Columbus under Burleson, Coleman and Wallace and other DeWitt Colony settlements arrived including Andrew Kent and son David Boyd Kent and "Black" Adam Zumwalt and son Andrew Zumwalt from the Lavaca River settlements. Adam Zumwalt in his applications for pension refers to serving under a Capt. Gohene in the action. Smithers had arrived at the Castaneda camp and delivered further communications from Castaneda to colonist scouts among which was Capt. Mathew Caldwell. Caldwell assured that the Centralista force would not be attacked that evening and proposed a meeting of Lt. Castaneda and Col. Moore early in the morning.

On 30 Sep 1835 Captain Albert Martin sent the following message by couriers to San Felipe and the Lavaca and Navidad River valleys:

Fellow Citizens of St. Philipe & the Lavaca.   Gonzales Sept. 30th 1835.  A detachment of Mexican forces from Bejar, amounting to about one hundred and fifty men, are encamped opposite us; we expect an attack momently. Yesterday we were but 18 strong, to day 150 & and forces constantly arriving. We wish all the aid & despatch that is possible to give us that we may take up soon our line of march for Bejar and drive from our country all the Mexican forces. Give us all the aid & dispatch that is possible. respectfully yours Captain Albert Martin, R. M. Coleman Capt., J.H. Moore Capt.  [Addressed] Fellow Citizens of St. Philipe and the Lavaca

Castaneda was aware of the increasing size of the Texan force and the difficulty in fording the swollen Guadalupe. On the morning of 1 Oct he moved camp to 7 miles upstream still on the west bank in a more defensible position and near an easier ford on or near the farm of Ezekial Williams. The colonists prepared to take the offensive by making ready their assorted weapons of all shapes and sizes. On 1 Oct John Sowell, Jacob Darst and Richard Chisholm dug up the Gonzales cannon from the Davis peach orchard and mounted it on a pair of wooden wheels from a cotton wagon owned by Eli Mitchell. Darst unspiked the cannon touchhole while he and blacksmiths Chisholm, Sowell and others cut every piece of loose metal (horseshoes, chains, trace rings, etc.) they could find into shrapnel that would fit into the barrel of the cannon.

Officers of the Texan force decided that the Castaneda’s strategy either was to await reinforcements from San Antonio or to attempt a fording of the Guadalupe at an easy ford about 15 miles further north. In reality his orders were to demand the cannon, await further orders and to avoid any engagement with a superior force that would cause embarrassment to the government and its forces. The decision was made to take the offensive. On Thursday night 1 Oct at 7 PM, the Texan force began to move across the river at the Gonzales ferry crossing with 50 mounted men along with the cannon and those on foot. Before departure, the group had been joined by frontier Methodist preacher W.P. Smith on his white mule from Rutersville in the Moore Settlement on the Colorado River. With mounted men in the lead followed by the mounted cannon flanked by men on foot and a small rear guard on foot, the Texan force approached the Mexican position in a thick fog about 3 AM of 2 Oct. A dog signaled the arrival of the Texans and Mexican pickets fired wounding one Texan slightly. Neither force could determine the exact position of the other and both waited for the dawn. When the fog lifted somewhat, the Texans found themselves in the corn and watermelon fields of Ezekial Williams and commenced to move into an open area within 350 yards of the main Mexican force where they began firing on the Mexican position. A cavalry of 40 under Lt. Gregorio Perez attacked the Texan position, which fell back to the river bank under protection of woods lining the river. Out of the mist appeared Launcelot Smither who had earlier been arrested and stripped of his belongings upon commencement of the Texan attack on the Mexican position. Smithers relayed Castaneda’s desire for a meeting, but was in turn arrested by the Texans who suspected he was an agent of the Mexicans. Lt. Castaneda and Col. Moore met in full view of both forces in an open area where the views described above in the Macomb letter were expressed. With no compromise, each commander returned to their positions and Lt. Col. Wallace ordered cannoneer J.C. Neill to fire the cannon loaded with 16 inches of powder and scrap metal, a harmless shot known as the first shot of the Texas Revolution. The Texans fired a rifle volley and Col. Moore led a modest charge toward the Mexican position without actually closing with the Mexican force. Lt. Castaneda immediately retreated with one casualty and returned to San Antonio. It is believed by this time that Lt. Castaneda had received subsequent orders from Col. Ugartechea in San Antonio to retire at once if his interview with the alcalde were unsuccessful and in his judgement the Texan forces were superior to his. The Texan force sustained a minor gunshot wound and one bloody nose do to a spooked horse when the firing commenced. Thus ended the confrontation on William’s farm that became known over the years as the Battle of Gonzales or the "Lexington of Texas" commencing with the "Texas shot heard round the world."

The confrontation precipitated the muster of the first Texian Republican Army with Stephen F. Austin as Commander and the march in defense of San Antonio de Bexar and restoration of the Constitution of 1824 which was occupied by Centralista forces under command of recently proclaimed dictator of all of Mexico Antonio Lopez Santa Anna (see Muster at Gonzales and Battle of Bexar).

A Little More About The Ponton's

PONTON. William Sr., Andrew, Joel. The Pontons originated in Virginia with William Ponton (b. abt 1772), the oldest child of Joel and Hannah Ponton of Amherst County, VA. Joel Ponton was a Revolutionary War soldier who died on 22 Jun 1826 in Nelson County, VA. Family legend says that the Ponton and Morelands were of French descent having originally come to New Amsterdam (New York) in the 17th century. William Ponton married Isabella Moreland of Pennsylvania on 12 Jan 1801 and they had children Joel (b. 3 Jul 1802), Andrew (b. 1804) and Mary Jane (b. abt 1810) in Virginia and Sarah Ann (b. 16 Sep 1820) in Missouri. William Ponton owned land in HowardCo, MO in 1819 and the family lived also in Boonville, CooperCo, MO where several children were born. It is thought that the Pontons and the John William and Catherine McClure Burket families were good friends in Missouri before coming to Texas. Upon the urging of son-in-law James B. Patrick who married Mary Jane Ponton, the Pontons and Patricks moved to the DeWitt Colony arriving 17 Dec 1829. The Patricks remained in or around Gonzales where James B. arriving in 1829 received title in 1831 to a league on the south bank of the Guadalupe River southwest of Gonzales. J.B. Patrick purchased 2 lots in inner Gonzales town on each of which he built structures, one a home on Water St. About the same time brother-in-law, Andrew Ponton, a single man, received title to a quarter sitio on the Gonzales-LavacaCo line. Andrew Ponton also purchased two lots in inner Gonzales town where he had a smokehouse which was one of the only two structures still identifiable after the burning of Gonzales by Houston's retreating army.

The elder William and Isabella Ponton settled on a league just north of current Hallettsville granted to them in current Lavaca County in the Austin Colony on 27 Nov 1832, the same day as title was passed to James Campbell on the league between the Ponton tract and current Hallettsville. Joel Ponton and family at first remained behind in MO, but followed in late 1833. He purchased in fall 1835 a lot at the bend of the San Marcos River on the far northwest corner of the Gonzales town tract. On 20 May 1834, a band of Comanches caught William Ponton and John Hays away from their guns and horses while they were cutting poles for a crib. Lavaca County author, Judge Paul Boethel in A History of Lavaca County describes the event:

"William Ponton, a member of DeWitt’s Colony, was killed by the Indians near his home on Ponton’s Creek in 1834. It was in spring, good rains had fallen for some time and the ground was covered with a luxuriant growth of wild flowers and grass, and game was abundant when a stray band of Comanches fell upon this settler and his companion. Ponton and his companion, named John Hays, left the house as day was breaking, May 20th, and rode out to the timber, where the Dickson or Evergreen schoolhouse once stood, to cut poles for a crib. They had been chopping about two hours and the pile of poles was steadily growing, when Ponton suddenly dropped his axe, pointed towards the top of the hill to the south, and said: 'John, look yonder; what do you reckon that is?' There, just beyond the crest of the hill, was a glimpse of several figures moving about. The two men turned pale as they realized their situation. They had brought their guns with them but had left them, together with their horses and lunch basket, a full half mile below them, where they had first started in to work. They crept in behind some trees and watched the crest of the hill, where the moving figures had disappeared, but Hays felt certain he caught the glitter of a lance before they vanished. 'Our only chance will be to get to our guns and horses,' said Ponton. 'Mebbe they haven't seen our horses. Come on, let's run for it,' and throwing aside his axe, he made a run for them, closely followed by Hays. They had hardly covered two hundred yards, however, before they heard a shrill cry from the hill and saw the Indians riding down upon them, waving their lances over their heads. A minute or two later, Ponton and Hays reached a shallow gully that stretched directly across their path; the heavy rains had made the bottom of it a quagmire, and gathering all his strength, Hays cleared it in a jump but Ponton fell short. As Hays ran on, he caught a glimpse of his comrade struggling to free himself of the mud and mire and the Indians were fast closing in upon him. Reaching the spot where they had started in to work, he saw that the horses had become frightened and had broken loose, and at the moment were galloping away across the prairie to the left. Catching up his rifle, he ran to a dense thicket of low bushes that covered two or three acres of ground on the far bank. He reached it in a few minutes and turned to look back for Ponton. The Indians were all dismounted and around the gully and he could see that his comrade was a prisoner. Working his way deep into the dense underbrush on his hands and knees, dragging his rifle behind him, he found his cover, and prepared to make his stand by laying out his ammunition beside him. In a little while, the Indians came up and rode around and around the thicket, sometimes venturing in a short distance, and then out. The underbrush was so dense he could only be guided by their voices. About two in the afternoon, the Indians brought Ponton up and made him call his comrade, but getting no response they continued their search. Just as night came on, they brought Ponton back again and this time in agony. He called upon Hays to come out and maybe they would spare his life, stating they had cut all the skin off the bottom of his feet. Again and again Ponton called to him as they continued to torture him and finally the Indians built a huge fire before the thicket. By and by all sounds ceased and Hays concluded his comrade had been killed and the Indians had ridden away, but he stayed in the thicket all night. He crept out of his hiding the next day and hurried to the nearest settlement where he organized a rescue party and returned to the scene. The party found Ponton, scalped and horribly mutilated, near the thicket."

In 1835, Andrew Ponton emerged as the Alcalde of Gonzales who guided the government of the colony through the events leading to separation from Mexico including the original confrontation at Gonzales over the Gonzales cannon. The event became known as the Battle of Gonzales, the "Lexington" of Texas and the precipitation of events leading to victory over Santa Anna at San Jacinto. Andrew Ponton became the agent for disposition of his parents league on the Lavaca River north of the Hallett home near current Hallettsville, but before any of the family could settle and improve it they were forced to flee east on the Runaway Scrape in front of Santa Anna's army. In the fall of 1837, Andrew Ponton, his brother Joel Ponton and family and sisters Sarah Ann Eggleston and Mary Jane Patrick and families returned to the DeWitt Colony to begin life again in an independent Texas Republic. Andrew, his widowed mother Isabella Ponton, and the Egglestons established homesteads on the William Ponton league on the Lavaca River near Hallettsville in addition to their homes in Gonzales town proper. The Patricks remained in Houston for a time until daughter Sarah Jane was born in 1837 and then returned to Gonzales. In 1838 the Patricks and Sarah Ann Ponton Eggleston were in San Felipe where Mary Jane Ponton Patrick became ill and died, probably in Apr 1839, in the presence of mother Isabella and other relatives. While in San Felipe, titles to tracts on their father's league were formalized. Andrew Ponton and his mother returned to a homestead on the Lavaca River, Joel Ponton acquired and settled property on the Navidad River and the Egglestons settled in Gonzales town. James B. Patrick and children also apparently returned to Gonzales town where he continued to be active in Gonzales town politics and public service. Andrew Ponton apparently made his home and spent most of the time through 1841 in Gonzales where he continued in public service as described below. After his marriage to Mary H. Berry in 1841, the couple focused on stockraising on their league on the upper Lavaca River. With slaves Austin, Elvira and Sam, the Pontons became prosperous. Upon statehood, Ponton was elected the first county judge of Lavaca County. Widowed matriarch of the Ponton clan made her home until her death after 1850 with daughter Sarah Ann and son-in-law Horace Eggleston in Gonzales.

Andrew Ponton. Andrew Ponton (1804-1850) was born in Amherst County, Virginia and went to the DeWitt Colony, Gonzales County, Texas in 1829 from Boonville, Cooper County, Missouri with his parents, two sisters and others. Andrew's parents were William Ponton (1772-1834) and Isabella Mooreland (1782-1860), a native of Pennsylvania. William was killed by a stray band of Indians May 20, 1834 where he and a friend John Hays were cutting poles for a crib. The daughters were: Polly "Mary" Jane Patrick (1810 near Lovingston, Nelson County, Virginia-1837 San Felipe, Austin Colony) married May 29, 1828 James Blair Patrick in Cooper County, Missouri; and Sarah Ann (September 16, 1820 Boonville, Cooper County, Missouri) who married Horace Eggleston. Andrew married July 8, 1841 Mary H. Berry in Columbus, Colorado County, Republic of Texas with his brother Joel Ponton, a minister of the Disciples of Christ Church, performing the ceremony. He died July 4, 1850 and was buried in the Gonzales Masonic Cemetery where the Texas Centennial Commission erected an Historical Marker on his grave in 1936. His brother Joel (July 3, 1802 near Lovingston, Amherst County, Virginia) married January 5, 1827 in Cooper County, Missouri Sarah Ann Reavis (June 8, 1794 August 31, 1837), a native of Rutherford County, North Carolina, and died in Gonzales County. The school where Andrew received his education has not been found.

In 1835 Andrew was elected Alcalde of Gonzales, and in September he was a member of the Gonzales Committee for Safety. The Mexican government had furnished a cannon for the protection of Gonzales' inhabitants against Indians; in 1835 Mexico sent soldiers to Gonzales to get the cannon or bring Ponton to San Antonio as a hostage. He put them off, and the final result was that he sent a very diplomatic letter of why he could not return the cannon. He was a farmer, stockman, politician and judge. He was the first chief justice of Gonzales County, a member of the Second Congress, House of Representatives in Houston for the County of Gonzales 1837-1838. He was elected the first chief justice of Lavaca County when it was formed in 1846. His land grant was issued June 18, 1832 and was located on the Gonzales-Lavaca County line. Andrew Ponton and his son Thomas Jefferson were members of the Masonic Order A.F. & A.M. Andrew and Mary had four children: William W. (1842) joined the Confederate army in 1862 and was soon released for a disability; Andrew S. (1845-1862) joined the Confederate army in September, 1861 and was killed in the battle at Atlanta in 1862; Thomas Jefferson Ponton Sr. (April 6, 1847 Gonzales County-December 9, 1889 Gonzales) after his high school education studied law and became a prominent attorney in Gonzales County, married February 27, 1872 in Gonzales Martha "Mattie" Kentuckey Brown (1849-1887) and had seven children with descendants later living in California and Florida; and Samuel Virgin (1849 1856). B. Elmer Spradley (From The History of Gonzales County, Texas. Reprinted by permission of the Gonzales County Historical Commission).

Joel Ponton. Joel Ponton was both medical doctor and a minister of the Disciples of Christ Church. He married Sara Reavis in CooperCo, MO on 5 Jan 1827 where they had children Andrew Judson (b. 4 Aug 1829; d. 12 Jan 1908, buried Junction, KimbleCo, TX), William Lee (m. Lutilia Ezzell 1856) and Jemima Jane (m. Thomas L. Hunt 1848). After arrival in Gonzales, a fourth David Barton (m. Lemelia Lay) was born 30 Apr 1834. On 31 Mar 1837, another son, Joseph Parthenias (m. Eliza Jane Bownds), was born in Columbus on the way back to the Gonzales area after their flight to East Texas. Wife and mother Sara Reavis Ponton died 31 Aug 1837 in Gonzales. On 28 Mar 1839, Dr. Ponton married Rhoda Delaney who adopted his children and bore more children Joel (b. 1842), Alexander (b. 1843), Martha and Ellen (and probably more) while Ponton ministered both to the physical and spiritual illnesses of his clients. Records indicate that he commonly applied steam and lobelia treatment, steam to cause sweating and lobelia (Indian tobacco) as an emetic. As a doctor, Ponton was in large demand and widely respected in the community, he had a large practice kept busy by the hazards of pioneer life. It is unclear if Dr. & Reverend Ponton practiced his spiritual ministry in the colony prior to independence. However, afterwards he was an enthusiastic minister in the early Church of Christ and established at least two congregations on the Rio Navidad in 1841-1842. In early Texas days, both of his ministeries combined could not support the large family. Ponton supported his family by as a rancher and farmer and also served the public in civil capacities. In spring 1839 after attending the death of his sister Mary Jane Ponton Patrick in San Felipe and the settlement of the William Ponton estate among the children, Ponton established his homestead on the Navidad River. On the way to the homestead on the Navidad, he purchased a 45 year old slave named Squire from James Campbell near Hallettsville. Both of Dr. Ponton's ministeries kept him on the road between homesteads and settlements, most frequently to Gonzales town. On 5 Aug 1840, he and Tucker Foley while on the way to Gonzales from their Navidad River homestead were attacked by a band of 27 Comanches on their way to the great raid on the coast at Linnville. Dr. Ponton survived, but companion Foley did not. On 5 Mar 1850, wife Rhoda Delaney Ponton died leaving him a 48 year old widower with 11 dependent children. On 11 Jul 1850, he married 18 year old Mary Henderson, one of six children of James and Lucinda Henderson from Water Hole Branch on the Lyons League about 12 miles south of Hallettsville. Joel and Mary Ponton settled near Hallettsville and had eight more children, Sarah, James, Alice, Laura, John, Lena, Henry and Victor Hugo.

Upon the death of his brother Andrew Ponton in 1850, Joel Ponton became the administrator of his estate by will of widow Mary H. Berry Ponton. After Andrew's widow Mary H. Ponton married Dr. Daniel C. Bellows in Dec 1850, the couple challenged Joel Ponton's position as administrator of the Andrew Ponton estate and he was removed, but after Ponton had established home tracts and slaves Austin and Elvira as property of the children of Andrew Ponton. The Bellows became owners of the Hicks Hotel and Tavern in Hallettsville, renamed it The Mansion House and after financial difficulties with it, Mary H. Berry Ponton Bellows died in Dec 1856 and Bellows moved out of the area. In 1857, Joel Ponton was re-established as guardian of the Andrew Ponton minor hiers and estate. He was forced to sell Austin for $157 and Elvira for $800 and tracts of land to support his nephews.

When the Civil War came, Dr. Joel Ponton supported the cause of the south without wavering and continued to do so after Lee's surrender. Prior to "Yankee Rule" in Lavaca County, Ponton served as deputy county clerk Josiah Dowling, he tried without success to obtain office under reconstruction and was elected county judge in 1866 when open polls were restored. However, he was removed form office by Federal authorities. He became again deputy county clerk under Josiah Dowling through Mar 1869. As county clerk and local minister, Ponton took care of both the civil and ceremonial formalities of marriages in the area. Wife Mary Henderson Ponton died on 17 Aug 1868 and Dr. Ponton married for the fourth time, Mrs. M.A. Beedle, by minister James Ballard. She died on 31 Mar 1871. In the same year Joel Ponton married Mrs. Harriet W. Koonce, mother of a daughter-in-law Elizabeth Koonce Mayo Ponton. On 1 Feb 1875 five times married DeWitt Colony pioneer doctor, minister, rancher and farmer Dr. Joel Ponton died with his large family in attendance. He is said to be buried on the Koonce tract of land near the Kent homestead on the Andrew Kent league in a location known as Ezzell, established by Sam and Ira Ezzell.