--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Lyman, Albert R. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 26 number: 9 published: 1923-07 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Albert R. Lyman, "A Relic of Gadianton: Old Posey as I Knew Him", *Improvement Era* 26, no. 9 (July 1923): 791–801.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2609unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2609unse start_page: 791 end_page: 801 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1923-07) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2609unse publication_year: 1923 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1923, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # A Relic of Gadianton: Old Posey as I Knew Him A Relic of Gadianton: Old Posey as I Knew Him By Albert R. Lyman, of the Presidency of the San Juan Stake, and Author of "Voice of the Intangible" Pardon the vertical pronoun; this account is based on forty years' acquaintance with Posey himself, and parts of it may be told to better advantage in the first person singular. Right here it should be clearly understood that no hatred, nor anything akin to it, prompts this writing, which must of neces- sity touch only the high places in a long and interesting ca- reer. Posey was born about sixty years ago. When he arrived in San Juan, a tiny brown papoose, the will and wishes of his people constituted the supreme law of the land, unless they failed to agree with one another. He grew up to regard himself as an important judge in the court of last resort, and he re- garded the rugged rocks of his beloved San Juan as the means by which his decisions were to be enforced. From the time that his fierce ancestors, of the Gadianton persuasion, swept their pale brethren from the two Americas, his people had known no law, but in idleness had contrived to live by plundering their neighbors. Posey inherited the in- stinct of this business from robbers of many generations. The old Piutes in San Juan still boast of how they raided the Na- vajos and stole their women, pointing out many a pass where they waylaid them with telling slaughter. From such exploits they returned exulting, and in safety, to the defenses of their chosen retreats in San Juan. Grass grew high on the hills when Posey was young; deer, beaver and other game could be easily found, and the Piutes lived on the fat of their splendid isolation. In the mountains a hundred miles to the east a few adventurous cow-men had made claim to ranch-sites, and off across the Colorado, to the west and north, lay the scattered "Mormon" settlements. But the country now comprising San Juan county contained wonder- ful retreats over whose dim trails white men had never found their way. In the latter 70's cow-men came with their cattle into the east side of the county, and not only because they carried guns, 792 IMPROVEMENT ERA but also because they boasted of some intangible force behind them which they called Uncle Sam, they became a threat and a menace to Piute supremacy in San Juan. These are the monsters with which Posey fought the dream battles of his youth, the invaders against which he fortified his later years. There is no reason to doubt he took part in the fight in La Sal Mountain, and that he was a valiant bra\e at Soldier Crossing. He did not think proper at all times to admit it, but to expect a youth of his fire to refrain is expect- ing too much. You and I would r^e been right there, under the same circumstances, unless, indeed, we had lacked the sand or the tribal devotion. In 1880, the "Mormon" colony settled at Bluff, a plump Bland in g natural bridge. Situated in West Water Gulch, a little way below where the Indians were casmped when the fight began. hundred miles from any other town, and almost as far from any permanent human dwelling. Having come in response to a call from their Church leaders to encourage friendly relations with the Indians, they raised at once the standard of peace, and the Piutes discovered they could be robbed without fear of any such severity as they had learned to expect from the cow-men. The settlers talked, it is true, about the intangible Uncle Sam, but due to their isolation, their fewness in numbers, and more still to their peaceful mission in the country, they made slow haste towards legal action against the Indians. Posey soon grew strong in his belief that the settlers were his prey, in spite of themselves, and in spite of the immaterial law behind them* Before I knew his sombre face from the faces of the other Piutes, I knew his reputation from hearing A RELIC OF GADIANTON 793 my father tell of taking our horses from him at various times. I was still in my tender years when I made Posey's per- sonal acquaintance; it was at the head of Peavine Canyon on Elk Mountain, when his camp was within a stone's throw of ours. No childish prejudice prevented my standing around his smoky fire to look and listen with his own half-clothed children, im- bibing the strange fancies of their wild freedom. Neither their ignorance, their superstition nor their filth, concealed the real charm of life as they lived it; such extravagant liberties — such novel partnership with the wind and the flowers and the trees! No hands of a clock disturbed their composure, and "thou shalt not," never entered so much as their dreams. I was captivated; I wanted my father to confirm a whispered report that I had a distant Indian ancestor. Scotty lived with his brother Posey then, as he has ever since, till the present trouble. How they came to camp in the gray dawn with their "kill" of deer across their saddles; how they helped us catch wild horses, gave us samples of their salt- less dried venison, studying our lives and telling about their own, are matters too lengthy for this story. But Posey's winning young squaw should be mentioned, also his two little boys, his old father, Cheerpoots, who herded and milked the goats; and their genial camp where they prepared their food, their medi- cines, their buckskin, and where they sang to keep on good terms with the god of fat game and good hunting. Posey traded us a sorrel pony for a broncho mare, but a few weeks later the pony was replevined by a Navajo from whom it had been stolen. Soon after we parted at Peavine, Posey killed his squaw, the mother of two little boys. I shall not say, as her people de- clared at the time, that the shooting was intentional, and done in a fit of anger. So far as I know it was but a terrible accident for which Posey paid dearly; not because of the twelve horses her brother Poke required as a sort of fine, but because he was a long time in exile, and grief-stricken over her loss. Besides that, he was required to marry another certain one of Poke's sis- ters who, even though the killing were intentional, has no doubt exacted a substantial installment of the price justice demands. The phase of that tragedy which appealed to me, and which i& still indelibly impressed in my memory, is the burning of the unfortunate woman's body. Prompted by a prying curiosity, I went with two other youngesters to visit the cave where the fire had been burning twenty-four hours, and the old Piute, dis- covering our unwarranted trespass, rode up between us and our horses and gave us a desperate chase. I feel today the posi- tive effect of that ordeal in my lungs, but I forgave Posey long 794 IMPROVEMENT ERA ago, having seen the game from his angle. When he came back from that exile, he stole horses unfail- ingly, and faithfully, and successfully for ten years. Many a thrilling story could be told about it, but what concerns us is that he "got off with it," proved Uncle Sam's government in San Juan an easy and harmless adversary, and flattered himself that Gadianton still reigned supreme. Top: Peavine Corral, near the head of Peavine Canyon on the Elk Mountain. Posey and Scotty helped capture many a wild band of horses in this corral, and proved here their fine skill with a lasso rope. Bottom: A view of the Bear's Ears, on Elk Mountain, looking south. I was moving a herd of cattle across Elk Mountain, and found myself without enough help to go on; worse still, due to some poison herb, we left several carcasses on our bedground every morning. Something had to happen at once. Knowing Posey claimed Long Point as a horse ranch, I went there hop- A RELIC OF GADIANTON 795 ing to find him. Discovering a fresh track I followed it post haste and overtook Posey's boy riding one of my horses. Con- sidering only the value of the cattle I represented, I swallowed my wrath, pretending not to recognize the horse, and tried to empley the boy, but had to accept his assurance that his father would join me in the evening. Posey never looked more acceptable than when he rode up Kigaly Draw in the early dusk with a quarter of venison and an extra horse. As a cow-boy he filled the bill to a "t." He could cook, find horses in the early morning, drive cows, see tracks, detect sounds in the darkness, and do everything the job required. As company, in leisure moments, around the fire and around the herd, he never grew dull, and the strange charm of his life appealed to me the more. I hated the thought, ever intruding on my mind, that my horse in his possession must be- come a troublesome interruption to the friendship we seemed to be building. I resolved not to mention the matter till within safe distance of my destination for fear he might quit abruptly and leave me in the lurch. When within two miles of L C ranch, I asked what he knew about my brown horse. Nothing; he hadn't seen him for a long time, and his pretended innocence was so complete with tone and gesture that I would have accepted it if I had not known better. But I did know better — I was not angry, I meant bus- iness, I wanted my horse, and I meant to have him. Posey's countenance fell; the very idea that I should pretend any friendship and at the same time challenge his sovereign right to steal horses ! But he didn't quit. Instead he "stuck closer than a brother" till he received his check, for he feared the brown horse was to enter unpleasantly into the settlement. With his name and the amount safely written on the "pamacahre," he tucked it into his greasy old trousers, mounted his cayuse with outraged ex- pression, and disappeared up L C trail. He got the brown horse without delay and sold it to a Navajo. When the brown horse was duly replevined from the Navajo, and the latter demanded the return of its value from Posey, it is not at all surprising that Posey should appropriate another of my horses. This time he cut out the brand, which didn't prevent the animal being readily recognized and taken from him without ceremony. This procedure was rather sudden for fourteen hundred years of untamed Gadiantonism, and Posey's wrath mounted above fever heat while he breathed out terrible threats, declaring incidentally that I would soon disappear from the earth. I put the case before Kumen Jones, Francis Nielson and other 796 IMPROVEMENT ERA A group of Piutes at the base of the cliff just north of the bluff, the view northeast. The lone finger standing up behind them, reaches a dizzy height. conservative men, asking whether I should swear out a com- plaint and have him arrested. They advised for two reasons to desist: First: it was hardly in keeping with the peace policy we had pursued; and who was I, that I should not suffer the things my father and others had suffered a long time patiently? Second: We were few in number, a big per cent of our men and boys away from town, and fifty miles to the first outside help. Posey had long doted on the peace policy of the "Mormon" settlement, and he figured that nothing they had in the shape of written law was as positive as the figthing spirit to which his soul harked back through a long line of untamed ancestors. He meant to teach the meek settlers what manner of stock he represented, and proceeding with great dignity into the orchards and gardens, he helped himself to peaches and melons. He took care, however, to select homes from which the men and big boys were away, and he terrified the women and child- ren with threats and insults. The wise men of the town reconsidered. "Stealing our horses and butchering our cattle is one thing," they said, "but terrifying our women and children is a different matter; and since we can reach Posey more easily on your charge of steal- ing horses, we think you should swear out a complaint and go ahead." , F 8 This is not a story of adventure, but no one in the little A RELIC OF GADIANTON 797 company who went with that warrant to Posey's camp, could cover the snappy particulars of their trip in an account of this length. But they marched him out, kicking and fighting in the handcuffs, and took him and his belligerent squaw into town. It became my bad fortune to be further mixed up in this unpleasant affair when the county attorney, finding it incon- venient to attend, insisted that I take his place at the preliminary hearing in the Justice's Court. Posey took this to indicate me as the main one causing him so much trouble, and cherished re- venge accordingly. After being bound over to appear in the district court, and before he could be removed to the county jail, he broke from the sheriff; and, joining his people waiting with fresh horses in the willows, made good his escape in spite of the posse which followed. And then again to make the matter vital to me, and write the name of Posey indelibly on my memory, he made straight for my cattle range near the junction of the San Juan and the Colorado, and sent word that he would make of me a feast for the coyotes when I visited my cattle again. His stay in, and my unavoidable visits to that quarter, were full of thrills for us both, but again the story must be abridged. He hid there in fear, preserving a constant vigil day and night till his nerves became rickety, and he sent word asking that we drop the charge and let him return. Would we forgive him? Surely. We jumped at the hope that he had learned the first essential for enjoying freedom — that he had taken the first step to live in peace as we sought it. But he hadn't. Our rights and our liberty were guaranteed to us by our obedience to law, and we loved and obeyed it for that reason. Posey hated it. It had appeared as a black cloud on the horizon of his Gadianton life, it had taken positive form, dragged him from his wickiup and condemned him in one of its lower courts, all for living the sovereign life his ancestors had lived without successful challenge. He brooded over it day and night. But he did more than brood: he ascertained the general small calibre of the white man's gun, and determined to have something greater. So he traveled afar till he got the desired artillery and a big pile of cartridges, and then he became more chesty and insolent than before. Hearing that Poke's boy, Tse-Ne-Gat, was charged with the murder of Juan Chacon and likely to be arrested, Posey cher- ished the big gun in great anticipation. But besides the gun he had another trick to play, and when the marshal's posses ap- peared he rode up under cover of a white flag and shot Jose 798 IMPROVEMENT ERA Cordova through the body before his treachery was detected. Then the posse discovered the calibre and his rifle, and had to arm themselves accordingly before going on with the fight. The story of Poke and Posey, and how General Hugh L. Scott induced them and their sons to surrender, is quite generally known, having been given wide publicity at the time. They all went out, as they supposed, to be tried, but they all came back exonerated of blame, and more or less famous for what seemed to a misinformed public to be a heroic part. Posey in- terpreted the affair as the government's official recognition of his right to do as he pleased. When people questioned his conduct, he ga^e them to understand that behind him was Uncle Sam in general, and General Scott in particular. This is not intended to reflect discredit on General Scott, whose motives were the admiration of all who understood them. But Posey failed to grasp the magnitude of the Gen- eral's effort, and to know that the General's watchword is obedience and devotion to Uncle Sam. And then an Indian Rights man, hunting for a certain kind of story, and determined to steer clear of anything else, came quietly into the country, sought out Posey, and went back to the east to publish a highly colored and misleading article. People read this account with hateful feelings towards the white settlers of San Juan, and sent frequent words of encourage- ment to the Piute outlaw. If they had been compelled to live near him long at a time they would surely have found it im* possible to live at peace with a neighbor who claims immunity from the law. With this flattering assurance of support from the out- side, Posey took heart to get another long range gun and cartridges galore, and became a chronic agitator among his people, a factor for anything but good citizenship. He de- clared that no white man's bullet could kill him, that if it were aimed straight at him it would turn around him or fall harmless to the ground. His oldest son declared in disgust he was crazy; and Poke also gave him up as an unprofitable asso- ciate. On the nineteenth of March, the present year, 1 was asked by the Piutes to defend two of their young men charged with robbing a sheep camp at the point of a gun. Posey appeared before court opened; and, as it proceeded, his hatred for law and courts became more and more apparent. Though the defendants were not his kindred, he watched the damaging e\ idence presented against them, and betrayed his "legaphobia" by grunts and exclamations of unrest. Sentence had not been passed when court adjourned for din- A RELIC OF GADIANTON 799 ner, but the defendants broke from Sheriff Oliver whom they tried to kill, failing only through the faulty action of the gun they wrenched from his hand. Then with the men of Blanding gathering in haste with their ordinary rifles, Posey conducted the retreat of the outlaws, using his high-power weapons to the * 2L „ 4Mb* ** ^B TT * S*TH| B8VJSH jf a. *ii l* VJ WW? k uV SB -- <^^i. • ^Hrj. " 4 K is 1^4 11 *){(jf- f * r*F ^wrf^j L~v^9^^to-~*_tflB^^P ' ^B •«r T7ie o7<£ warrior Posey, to the left; and Governor Charles R. Mabey, to the right. The picture ivas taken during a former uprising of the Indians in San Juan county. best of his ability. One of his bullets, intended to clear the seat of Edson Black's car which was outrunning the Utes down the country, missed its mark by eight inches. Eight inches ahead 800 IMPROVEMENT ERA of where it crashed into the car, it would have pierced three men through the bowels. This is but one instance in the fight, which indicates Posey's unshaken belief that the war gods of Gadianton were fighting in his favor. But he had carried the game too far. He had incited the young men to break away, had assured them he would make good their escape, and though it was no business of his, he had led in the fight through nothing but his unyielding hatred of law. Early in the skirmish one of the defendants, Joe Bishop's boy, was shot dead; and somewhat later, Posey received two wounds, both of which might have been treated successfully if he had surrendered. Dropping out of the fight he took refuge in a cave, perhaps expecting to recover, but determined the set- tlers should not know their bullets had found him. When the rest of his people surrendered and came to town, he still waited in his cave, west of Comb Wash. Later when his son and an- other Piute were taken by a posse to help find him, the Ute boys carried the wounded man a supply of food, but kept his whereabouts a secret from the posse. Then the search was delayed — people believed Posey had gone to Navajo Mountain, and the Piutes in the stockade in Blanding kept their secret while weary weeks passed away. And the old warrior waited alone, pacing the entire area of his lim- ited field, for he had no horse and his strength began to fail. He built signal fires again and again, but they attracted no one. He mounted the rock above him and scanned the country by day and by night; no welcome smoke nor glimmer met his gaze, and no sound broke the hush of his solitary doom. The poison of his wounds grew worse, he became helpless and died, waiting and hoping for relief. When the hunt began again, the Indians, still acting for the government, went straight to the cave fearing the worst, and finding Posey dead, made known the place of his concealment. If they had but done so before, he would have received medical attention. No right thinking person can take pleasure in contemplating the pain and anguish the misguided old chieftain must have suffered. But there was to be no mistake about his identity: his body was exhumed twice after burial, examined and photo- graphed by men who knew him well. And all around it was the little area he had patted hard with his pacing up and down. The ashes of his signal fires proved that he had burned them in no less than twenty places. He had carried in his hand a stick with which he marked on and tamped every inch of earth within reach of his resting places. On one of his lookouts he had A RELIC OF GADIANTON 801 gouged out a rude seat and in it had sat for what must have seemed ages to him. Posey, though fitted by nature to take a useful part in human affairs, was yet a "spoiled child," the victim of a wrong conception of human rights. He believed that the old style tribe, with its war paint and its fixed resistance, could over- power the excellent agencies of modern democracy, and he died trying to prove it. B landing, Utah Posey's squaw waiting with the horses while her husband did some trading. Picture taken in 1907. May I Ne'er be Ungrateful Raymond, Canada When to the throne of grace I go And meet my record here below, Ah, many failings I shall see, For man can never perfect be. But there is one sin Lord, I pray May ne'er be held 'gainst me that day; Though even this thou may'st forgive, I pray thee, Lord that while I live, I may never be ungrateful. Helen Kimball Orgill