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INDIAN RAID DUGAN HOME NEAR BELLS IN YEAR OF 1841  The Sherman Courier
Friday, August 15, 1917 pg. 13 Fiftieth Anniversary Edition Murder White Boy Named Green. Number of Indians Killed and Band Chased From the Country The following account of the last Indian fight in Grayson county will be of interest to people both in the county and elsewhere. This narrative was written by Mrs. Kate Dugan, an aunt of Daniel D. Dugan who now lives on North Travis street, Sherman. In writing about this last fight, which was in 1841, Mrs. Dugan spoke from experience, as she was there and took part in the fight. She says: "The first indication of Indians we had notocied for some time were on that Monday evening. The cows would not stand still long enough to be milked, but would snuff the air, hoist their heads and herd together in the upper part of the pen, gazing very intently toward the woods. We felt certain that Indians were in the vicinity, watching our movements, but it was such a common occurance that we took no extra precaution, depending a good deal on our dogs to keep them at a distance. Our dogs had been of great service to us and I believe they had many times kept the Indians off by barking and extreme fierceness. After supper George and William went to the barn to sleep as usual and the other men went to their room, where they had a good fire burning. Henry Dugan an another boy named WIlliam Allred who was staying at our house, were out in the yard playing until father went to the door and told them to go to bed. Henry slept with Green and boy like wanted to in the front, but when he was ready for bed Green was too sound asleep to get over, so necessarily Henry had to crawl in behind, and though very unwilling to occupy so undignified a place it was the means of saving his life. Mother went to bed early and father lay dozing by the kitchen fire, as was his habit, being troubled with rheumatism. Sister Emily and I sat nearby working by the dim light of a single tallow dip, I sewing and she carding cotton rolls for the next day's spinning. Everything was very quiet, the dogs not even barking as usual. Afterwards we knew they were down behind the smokehouse gnawing bones that Gorden had thrown there. "Emily and I were talking in whispers about the wedding when we both started and listened to an unusual noise we heard in the men's room. The door pin fell to the floor and some one gave the door a kick. We were about to resume our work and conversation, thinking it was one of the men when like a thunderbolt two shots rang out, followed by another, and then all was confusion. Pandemonium let loose, in an instant the yard seemed full of Indians, all yelling and blowing whistles. Emily sprang up and commenced running up and down the room screaming, "Indians." I blew the candle out first thing, then ran for a bucket of water and threw it on the fire, and turned just in time to catch mother, who half dazed with sleep, was trying to unbar the door and get out. Father was pretty quick, considering his rheumatism, and grabbing his old "flint lock" ran to the port hole and fired at the noise as it was too dark to aim. The dogs, hearing the noise, came tearing around the house and joined in the row with all their teeth and lungs and the Indians soon left. Emily kept running up and down the room, and if the Indians heard that puncheon floor rattle, they must have thought the kitchen full of men. I have no doubt though that they had watched us as we sat there at work, for there was a crack between the logs neat the door, that one could have put his arm through, and it is very likely they took observations and knew where to find the men first. I don't know what I should have done if I had turned and seen a pair of shining eyes looking at me through that crack. After the Indians left and the noise subsided, we could hear cries and groans in the men's room, which set us almost distracted. Father called out through the port hole to know who was hurt, and Gordon answered the Green was killed and Hoover wounded. In about half an hour we heard three shots in the direction of the barn, followed by such terrible groans that we were alarmed for fear that one of the boys was hurt, but the whistles and howls and lamentations, a cross between the howl of a wolf and the cry of a human, accompanying the groans gave us a very correct idea that our enemies were getting the worst of a bad bargain. We did not dare to stir out until morning and, as it best to keep our forces scattered, we all stayed where we were until sun rise. The men barricaded their door and kept watch in their room and I took father's gun and remained on guard at that port hole while father slept. I could only look once in awhile to see if Indians were sulking about the house on our side. All night long I could hear their whistles in one place and then in another, sometimes clear and shrill near the house, then a tremulous quivering note like the plaintive song of a bird would break the silence of the night. It was evident that the Indians were very uneasy about something. Toward morning, as it began to grow light, I leaned forward once...thankful that day was at last dawning and this fearful suspense would soon be at an end. My eyes searching took in every object within the object of the port hole, and I was about to draw back when I was arrested by a sight that made my heart jump right into my throat. Not twenty feet away stood an Indian by a tree, silent and motionless as a statue; where he came from and how he got there was more than I could tell. I had seen no motion and heard no sound. My first thought was to shoot, and what a fine chance it was! I had a feeling of hatred and a desire for vengeance against the whole Indian race since my brother was so cruelly murdered by them, and now was my time. I raised my gun but in the excitement of the moment I must have made a noise that gave him the alarm for, when I looked again down the shiny barrel, he was gone. Sun rise came at last, bringing the boys in from the barn, and when in a few hurried questions we learned our situation, George mounted our fleetest horse and went to Warren for a doctor and to inform Green of the death of his son. For many years after, the print of an Indian's hand could be seen where he leaned against the soft mortar and pulled the peg out of the door on that fatal night. Two shots were fired towards the beds, one striking Green and killing him instantly. Hoover sprang out of the bed and sank to the floor with a very bad flesh wound in the side while Gordon, as quick as a flash, jumped over the bed, ran in behind the door and pushed it to with such force that he fairly knocked the Indians out of the door. He fastened it with chains and tables the best he could, threw water on the fire that was burning brightly in the fire place and then went to the assistance of the wounded men. Not knowing that Green was shot, Henry sprang out of the bed and tried in vain to rouse him; he threw back the cover, and taking hold of his hand, told him to "wake up, the Indians were upon them" but no responses came from the lips forever dumb, and they soon discovered that the poor boy was wrapped in the slumbers that knows no awakening. When George and William heard the firing at the house and Emily screaming, they hurried on their clothes to come to their rescue; then they heard father's gun and the dogs, and thought they had better stay where they were. A wise resolve for the Indians never turned their attention to the horses. The boys made all preparations, for they saw that their guns were in order and ammunition handy. They did not have long to wait. As William was on the outlook at the front side of the of the barn, he saw a dark form moving about very strangely among the trees. It would appear from behind a tree, jump up and down, and the dart back. After acting in this wild way for awhile, it made a dash for the barn door where it "materialized" to the watching eyes above, as a very stalwart Indian, who had been acting in that way to tempt a shot if anyone was on guard at the barn, seemingly satisfied that no one was around, and that he had everything to himself, he set his gun down by the door and began to work and pick at the padlock and to use English "cuss words" when it would not yield to his manipulations. In a few moments he was joined by two more Indians who had been watching, stopped within a few steps from the proceedings. They walked up to the barn door, and talking in a low tone of voice and looking up toward a little window cut in the logs just above the door. Like the colonel of the Revolutionary fame William "waited until he could see the whites of the enemy's eyes and the fired." At the signal George was at his side in a second, and motioning him that it was time to shoot, they rested the muzzles of their guns between the logs and fired. Both Indians were mortally wounded, fell, got up and ran some distance, four to the north and one to the west of the barn. The former by his groans attracted friends who came and carried him off; the other was not heard from and the boys supposed that he was taken away too. They reloaded their guns and took their places to await another attack, but they did not think that without another effort to get the Indians would give up the fight for horses; nor were they mistaken. As George was looking out on his side next to the cow pen, he saw the cows very much disturbed, step aside very suddenly and give a wide berth to an object crawling on the ground. At first he thought it was a hog as it grunted its way toward the barn, but upon closer inspection, and knowing that the hogs could not get in on that side, he suspected that it was an Indian and raised his gun to give him a reception worthy of his mission. As he was taking aim, the muzzle of his gun raked on the bark making a slight noise. The quick ear of the Indian caught the sound, and partly raised up, but he only made a better target of himself and received a ball and twenty-four buckshot full in the breast, cutting in two a hair rope tied around his waist. He was tracked the next day by his blood to where he died, and where the Indians had found and carried him off, but the continual whistling during the night made all think that they had not succeeding in finding all their dead yet. When George came back from Warren, he brought the doctor, several rangers, and the family of Green, who took their boy back to Warren for burial. As the men were waiting for dinner, some talking and others, who had been up all night, were trying to sleep, a shrill whistle was heard in the woods near the house, which brought every man to his feet and off into the woods in no time. A fleeting vision of a red skin clearing the ground by flying leaps two yards apart was all they saw and they returned and commenced searching for the dead Indians. They found one of the first that was shot, the one that had run west of the barn and fallen dead without a groan. The men dragged him to the house and laid him out in state in the yard, inviting all to come to the funeral (no flowers). He was dressed in light marching order, a calico shirt and leather leggins, and as Dr. Rowlett came out with the other to take a last look at the deceased, he looked at him for a moment and then exclaimed, "Why, that is Cachatta Bill; he used to work for me; my wife made that shirt he has on!"  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