The Coalson’s new life on the Nueces

Edited by Jim Fish

Ozona—This continuing narrative shares yet another deadly confrontation encountered by the Coalson family, after the attack at Copperas Creek in 1874, near present-day Junction. Their epic tale outlines the privations and hardships early pioneers confronted in the settlement of the Texas frontier. The Coalson family arrived in Kimble County shortly after the Civil War (1870) to make a living on what was then the Comancheria on the Edward’s Plateau. Raising a family in the 1870’s was a challenge and merely surviving was a blessing.

Jennie Coalson died in 1874. Her loss devastated Nick, her husband, and their children. Her role as the matriarch bound the family and sustained the hopes and dreams of their pioneer spirit. Jennie remains in history as a true pioneer.

However, the Coalson family’s loss was soothed a mite when Nick remarried Alice Humphries a year later in 1875. Stephen Douglas (Doug), the oldest son had joined Captain D. W. Roberts’ Company D. Frontier Battalion State Troops (Rangers) stationed at the south side of the San Saba River, several miles above Menard. He enlisted to get justice for the killing of Joe Harris.

Nick moved the family to the Nueces River in Edwards County amidst the shinnery oak and cedar, where Nick began another home and operated a goat camp operation toward the end of 1876. They were located about fourteen miles from Barksdale and six miles from the head of Cedar Creek.

The following excerpt from "A History of Edwards County," tells of the first Indian attack on the newcomers to Edwards County on June 9, 1877, only a few months after their arrival.

"This Indian attack took place at a goat camp that was located about six miles from their home. Nick and two of his boys, John, and Author, were staying at the camp and attending to their herd of goats. A small band of Indians rode up about two o'clock in the afternoon and surprised the two boys, who were a short distance from the camp, herding goats. The Indians killed Author, ten years old, and severely wounded John, then fourteen. They went to the camp and engaged in a battle with Nick that lasted about three hours. When Nick had used up most of his ammunition, he escaped into a cedar break and managed to return to his house. The Rangers were notified, and a number of Rangers took up the trail of the Indians but were unable to apprehend them."

John Coalson provided his own account of being shot and left for dead.

“The second Indian attack on our family was tragic, indeed. In it I was shot between the shoulders and left for dead, and my younger brother was killed. The Indians attacked us in the first half of June 1877. We had our goat camp at the head of Cedar Creek, on the divide. This was six miles west of our home. When this fight took place, I was only fourteen years old, and my brother was only ten. We were herding the goats one afternoon and were having a great time fighting bumblebees.

“It was about 2 p.m. and the first we knew of any Indians was when they began shooting at us with their six-shooters. We turned and ran for the camp, where father was. Boy as I was, I was carrying a heavy cap-and-ball pistol, about .38 caliber. After I ran about forty yards, I recollected that I had it, then drew it and fired at the nearest Indian. He was about thirty yards ahead of the other Indians. This fellow still came on after I shot at him, so I turned and ran again. The second time he shot at me, the heavy ball hit me between the shoulders and knocked me down. The Indian then came running up, unbuckled my gun belt, and took it and my gun and my hat. The whole bunch then rode up. One rode over me and shot at me, hitting me in the left arm. They then ran after my little ten-year old brother and killed him. As it turned out, I lay in the open in the hot sun the rest of the day, burning up with thirst, but too afraid to move for fear the Indians would see me and finish me up.”

Though John had been severely wounded, the Indians (a band of Lipan Apache out of Mexico) had left him for dead. John tells of having the presence of mind to "play dead", even as he felt their warm breath on his face while they examined him for signs of life. Of course, when there is a hole in your chest and a larger exit wound in your back, most observers assume death.

“After killing my brother, the Indians rode on to our camp, shooting and crippling some of the goats. They besieged Dad at the camp for three hours. Instead of making his stand in a cedar brake some distance west of where the wagon stood under a tree, father stayed between the tree and the wagon. The brush corral was about seventy yards northwest of the wagon. Here the Indians took refuge.

“Dad was armed with a .50 needle gun. The Indians would run out from behind the corral two at a time, circle down toward Dad, shooting as they came, and would then circle back to the corral. Before they got there, two more would run out, shooting at Dad, and circle back to the corral. They kept this up constantly for three hours. Then they stopped charging.

“Dad thought then that all of them were fixing to charge him at once, and as he had only 7 or 8 cartridges left, he made a dash for the cedar brake to the west of the tree. When he did so, one Indian horseback and two on foot ran out and tried to cut him off. They were closer to the cedars than he was. The Indian on the horse stopped to shoot. Father shot at him at the same time and hit him in the right groin. He found this Indian’s pants later, with the bullet hole in them. After father gained the cedar brake, he made for home, six miles away. The Indians plundered the goat camp, ripped open the feather bed, but over-looked a pillow. The only thing they left around camp was a two-gallon kettle.

“After thoroughly wrecking the camp, the Indians came back to where I was. The first I knew of their coming was when I heard their horses' hoofs striking the gravel in the dry creek bed close to me. When I heard them coming, I thought my time had come, sure enough. One Indian got off his horse, turned me over on my back, and opened my shirt. He then rode off, but he had his suspicions. As he rode away, he kept looking back. I was lying with my arms over my face but was watching them as they left. They left one of my knees sticking up when they turned me over. I kept it that way as long as I could, but after they rode off, my leg fell from this position so that it lay on the ground. The Indian who kept looking back must have seen this, for he stopped his horse and watched me. He watched me a full half-minute, but it seemed half an hour to me.

“I knocked the wooden plug out of one of one of our rain barrels and 15 or 20 gallons of water ran into one of the holes in the ground. I took off my pants, using them for a pillow, lay down in the water and went to sleep. I supposed the Indians had killed Dad and that maybe I would find his body. Not finding it, I came back to camp and sat down against the tree. I heard horses' feet, and hounds, and thought it was the Indians coming back. But it was the Rangers. Dad, on reaching home, had sent Brother Billy to the house of Mr. Lemons for help. Mr. Lemons sent a boy at once for the Rangers, who were camped twelve miles from our ranch and two miles below Barksdale.

“Capt. Dolan and seven or eight Rangers came right on. A Ranger named Robb picked me up, got water, washed my wounds, and dressed them. He also got me some breakfast. They stayed at the goat camp till Dad came, then they took the trail of the Indians and found the body of my little brother, Arthur. They had shot him under the arms and in the back of the head. He is buried on Half Moon Prairie, in Edwards County, on Cedar

Creek, on the old Coalson Ranch.

“To resume the pursuit of the Indians, by the Rangers… When the Indians left the goat camp and passed by me, they went only four or five miles and camped for the night. Next morning they divided. Three of them took the Indian whom Dad had shot in the groin, back toward the settlements, stealing horses and going toward Menardville. It was impossible for the Rangers to keep their trail. Three Rangers followed the three Indians who were taking the wounded Indian toward Del Rio. The Indians killed a horse each day for food.

“The rangers found the rag stoppers that had been placed in the hole in the side of the wounded Indian. They trailed them to Devil's River, but as they couldn’t follow the trail any further; they stopped the pursuit.”