The Shifting Borders of Race and Identity: A Research and Teaching Workshop On the First Nations and African American Experience

Intersections between Native American and African American History in the West

Presentations by Quintard Taylor, Scott and Dorothy Bullitt Professor of American History – University of Washington
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Native Americans and African Americans:
Intersections across Time and Space in the West

Quintard Taylor February 23, 2004

I begin this paper on black and Indian interaction in the West with a quotation from someone thoroughly identified with the East, African American educator Booker T. Washington. In his autobiography, Up from Slavery, published in 1901, Washington describes the "experiment" in placing of Native American students in Hampton Institute, one of the leading colleges for African American students in 1879, at a time when wars against Native Americans were being waged in the West and just three years after the Battle of the Little Big Horn in Montana:

On going to Hampton Institute, I took up my residence in a building with about seventy-five Indian youth. I was the only person in the building who was not a member of their race . . . It was a constant delight to me to note the interest which the colored students took in trying to help the Indians in every possible way. There were a few of the colored students who felt the Indians ought not to be admitted to Hampton, but they were in a minority. Whenever they were asked to do so, the Negro students gladly took the Indians as roommates . . . I have often wondered if there was a white institution in this country whose students would have welcomed the incoming of more than a hundred companions of another race in the cordial way these black students at Hampton welcomed the red ones . . .1

I use this lengthy quotation to provide a frame of reference for understanding the complex and often contradictory relationship between Native Americans and African Americans over five centuries in the West. In fact, encounters between Native people and African people in the West, the longest of any two groups of color, included an array of interactions with each group in a position of power vis-à-vis the other. At various stages, Indians were victims and oppressors of African Americans. At various stages, African Americans were victims and oppressors of Native Americans. Thus, when we discuss the encounters, we must ask disturbing questions about the relationship that found expression at different times in conflict, cooperation, and accommodation.

We have an opportunity at this symposium (and beyond) to explore these relationships over time and space so that we may move beyond stereotypes about blacks and Indians that posit two equally wrong notions: namely, that the cultural divide between the races prevented any positive association, or that Indians and blacks understood their shared oppression and always struggled to defeat their common foe, the European American.

I have chosen four episodes to explore black-Native interaction that are suggestive, but not exhaustive, of the range of possibilities for reinterpreting the meeting of these two peoples. As you will see, the narrative is incomplete in each of these episodes—meaning that future historians can explore and possibly answer the questions I pose. The episodes are: 1) Interaction in colonial New Spain, 2) Frontier Texas, 3) Slavery in Indian Territory, and 4) Indians and Buffalo Soldiers in the Post-Civil War West.

Colonial New Spain

On January 8, 1600, in a small town outside of Mexico City, the capital of New Spain, Isabel de Olvera declared before the alcalde (mayor), "I am going . . . to New Mexico and have some reason to fear that I may be annoyed by some individual since I am a mulatto. It is proper to protect my rights in such an eventuality by an affidavit showing that I am a free woman, unmarried and the legitimate daughter of Hernando, a Negro and an Indian named Magdalena . . . I demand justice."2

De Olvera was destined for the northern frontier of New Spain and would be one of the founders of Santa Fe later that year. Her arrival in what is now the United States West in 1600 (nineteen years before the first 20 blacks landed at Jamestown) should cause us to rethink our assumptions about the origins of African American history along the lower James River in colonial Virginia. Equally important, de Olvera's very existence as the daughter of "a Negro and an Indian" indicates one of the earliest intimate connections between Native Americans and African Americans. This woman, who was both Indian and black, represented in her person the multiracial population that emerged in colonial New Spain in the sixteenth century.

Nearly 200,000 Africans entered Mexico during the colonial period (1521-1821), a figure comparable to the 345,000 who were brought to British North America. They entered a region that was overwhelmingly Indian. The Spanish census of New Spain in 1570 estimated 3.3 million indigenous people, as compared with 17,000 Spaniards and 21,000 blacks. Large-scale intermarriage in New Spain over the next two centuries produced a biracial and multiracial population that soon constituted the vast majority of the persons of African descent. Although the term "mulatto" so often used to describe these new people supposed a mixture of African and European blood, the vast majority of these "mulattoes" were, in fact, part Indian and part African. By 1793 this multiracial (African-Spanish-Indian) population had grown to 370,000 and was the second largest nonwhite racial group in New Spain. However, they were still outnumbered by 2.3 million Indians.3

Blacks, Indians, and the progeny they generated were proportionally even more numerous on the northern frontier of New Spain. This multiracial population that included blacks, Indians, and biracial people as well as "white" Spaniards founded all of the towns of El Norte including San Francisco, San Jose, Santa Barbara, Tucson, Santa Fe, Albuquerque, San Antonio, El Paso, and Laredo. By 1801, for example, 56 percent of the "Spanish" settlers in Tucson were in fact Native Americans and 8 percent were of Africa ancestry.4

Spanish settlement in California affords an opportunity to view the consequences of the forging of a mixed-race population. The 46 persons who founded Los Angeles in 1781 included 26 individuals who were "African or part African," comprising 56 percent of the settlers. Another 17 were Indian. Of the three remaining founders, one was Chinese from Manila and two were of Spanish ancestry. The first mayor of Los Angeles, Jose Vanegas, was a full-blooded, Spanish-speaking Native American. The second mayor, Francisco Reyes, was of black and Indian ancestry. Jose Bartolome Tapia, a soldier of Indian and African heritage, became the first Spanish owner of Rancho Malibu on the Pacific Ocean. Juan Jose Dominguez, an Indian, became the first rancher in the area south of Los Angeles. Dominguez State University is named after him. According to historian Jack Forbes, approximately 55 percent of the Spanish-speaking population in California in 1790 was of mixed heritage. Thirty percent had some Indian ancestry and 25 percent had some African ancestry. In both cases, this was a larger percentage than today.5

There was a similar pattern of settlement in New Mexico. Isabel de Olvera, of course, is an obvious example. A 1750 census for Albuquerque revealed that of 200 families in the town, 57 had spouses (husband or wife) of African ancestry, and nearly half had spouses of Indian ancestry. Yet interaction between Indians and blacks included more than intermarriage. Historian Dedra McDonald, for example, describes the African and Indian female servants of wealthy Spaniards in New Mexico who often forged bonds across racial lines. These women shared information on food preparation, medicine and herbs, potions, and "spells." In a 1631 witchcraft case, a mulatto woman testified that she brought back to her bed a philandering husband and thus "saved" her marriage by using the potion provided by an Apache fellow servant.6 These stories suggest that much of Native American and African American Western history is hidden under the rubric of "Spanish colonial" or Latino history in the Southwest. Moreover, they complicate notions of identity. Would the founders of Los Angeles have considered themselves Indian or black? That answer is unclear. Certainly, traditional historians of Latin America and Spanish colonial officials have called these people "Spanish." However, given the Indian and African cultural survivals and Isabel de Olvera's declaration, I believe their definition of themselves would have included their racial identity as well.

Frontier Texas

The Texas frontier proved an area of frequent contact between Native Americans and African Americans. Slavery developed quickly in Texas after its war of independence from Mexico in 1836. By 1860, one third of the 400,000 people of Texas were, in fact, black slaves. Likewise, a number of Native peoples resided across the vast expanse of Texas. The Indian-white frontier moved westward slowly from the 1830s to the 1870s. Put another way, Indians and whites competed for land and power in Texas for half a century—a much longer time than in any other Western state.

Across such a vast array of time and space, Native Americans and African Americans met as both enemies and allies. At the risk of oversimplication, we can argue that there were two types of contact. Often they met as enemies. The much-feared Comanche, according to historian Kenneth Porter, made no distinction between black and white frontier settlers. The Comanche saw people dressed similarly, who used the same tools and weapons, and who often lived in the same houses. [T]hat their complexions differed, " wrote Porter," was of little significance compared with their basic cultural similarity."7

Conversely, many slaves and free blacks developed a hatred and fear of the Comanches as intense as that of white settlers among whom they lived. In one raid on the Texas frontier near Austin in 1838, two white and two black men fought the Comanche and were killed. Two years later, in 1840, the Comanche killed seven blacks and six whites at Victoria while taking several black and white children and women as captives.8

But the story is more complicated. Native people and blacks were often allies. In August 1841, a raiding party of "Indians" who attacked a farm included a "burly negro" who was killed in the attack. In another "Indian raid" in November of that year, nine attackers were killed. Seven were Native American, two were African American.9

After emancipation, more blacks were free to join Native Americans. In March 1868, a Comanche party of 38 attacked settlements in north-central Texas. The party of "Indians" included two Mexicans and two blacks, one of whom was described as a "big negro" who led the attack. Apparently the "big negro" was a Comanche sub chief. In May 1869, ten cowboys were attacked by 30 to 40 Comanche "commanded by a large colored man, who gave his orders from his seat on a large rock out of gun range." The attack ended when the Comanche "blew a bugle and went away." Five years later in 1874, white buffalo hunters were attached by Comanche led by the famous biracial (Indian and white) chief Quanah Parker. In the ensuing battle, a black bugler who rode with the Indians was killed, as were ten native warriors. The bugler was a U.S. army deserter who had joined the Comanches.10

Although stories of white women captives, such as Cynthia Ann Parker (the mother of Quanah Parker), who became incorporated into the Comanche nation are well enshrined in the folklore of the Texas frontier, black women captives also became wives of Comanche warriors. In 1852, an unnamed black woman was found at a Comanche camp. She had been captured a decade earlier in Arkansas and when "rescued," she left with her four part-Comanche daughters.11

To be sure, the vast majority of African Americans fought the Comanche and other Indian people—and neither side showed much mercy. But these examples show a story of black-Native contact that is far more complex. We need to know more about the blacks who joined the Comanches, and we need to know why they welcomed some blacks but not others.

Slavery in Indian Territory

The single longest and largest encounter between nineteenth-century Native Americans and African Americans in the western United States took place under slavery. From the era of the Trail of Tears in the 1830s through 1865, five nations—the Chickasaws, Cherokee, Creeks, Choctaw, and Seminoles—held black women and men in bondage. In 1860, the 8,300 slaves in Indian Territory comprised 17 percent of the total population. Black slaves as a component of these five nations ranged from a high of 30 percent among the Seminoles to a low of 10 percent among the Creeks.12 Yet, the slavery issue in the West was complex. Although African slavery was a well-established practice among these five nations, they were virtually the only ones among 500 Indian tribes in North America who owned black slaves. Moreover, the West also included New Mexico, where Indian slavery and Mexican peonage precluded the need for black bondspeople.

Slavery in the Indian West began with the Trail of Tears. These various migrations brought 60,000 Indians and their bondservants to a vast new domain of 70,000 miles of woodland and prairie. The newcomers conveniently ignored the claims of the indigenous tribes—the Kiowa, Cheyenne and Comanches—whom they pushed into the western part of the territory. This rich agricultural and grazing land, protected from white intrusion by the federal government, would evolve into a plantation society, which mirrored the Old South. The Trail of Tears is correctly described as an arduous, life-threatening journey for many Native peoples from their former homes in the Carolinas, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Tennessee. However, for the more affluent, the journey was less difficult and dangerous because of their slaves.

Typical of this group of emigrants was the George Lowery family, of the Cherokee tribe, which left its "comfortable" estate in northwest Georgia in September 1838 with thirty slaves. Five months later, the Lowery family settled eight miles south of Tahlequah, the capital of the western Cherokee Nation. Their slaves soon had several hundred acres under cultivation on land now called Greenleaf Plantation. Indian planters, such as Lowery, could clear more acreage and make more improvements on their lands with slave labor. In sum, slaveholding Indians were at a tremendous advantage in reestablishing their prosperity and wealth in the new land. The gap between the wealthy and impoverished Indians increased in the West.13

The work of the black slaves in Indian Territory differed little from the tasks of bondservants in the slaveholding states such as Texas. African American men cleared and improved land, built fences, plowed, planted and harvested cotton, tended livestock and cultivated rice, corn, and other vegetables. African American women cooked, operated spinning wheels, cleaned plantation houses, and cared for children. The wealthier Indians had slave coachmen, butlers, and maids. Black slaves were stevedores who loaded and unloaded steamships and flatboats.

Slavery, however, changed both Indians and blacks. Since they were often bilingual in English and Indian languages, some slaves served as interpreters. Among the black slaves of the Seminoles were persons who spoke Spanish, English, and the language of their owners. In 1832 a white observer watched a black girl translate English into Cherokee and wrote: "The spectacle seems strange . . . no doubt, the coal black girl speaking both English and Cherokee and keeping the old woman informed as to what was being said."14

On occasion, there was a mixing of Indian and black cultures. At North Fork Town in January 1842, one observer noted Creeks and their black slaves engaged in prayer and psalms singing. His description of the service revealed the language as Creek, the music Southern Baptist, and the lyrics those of a slave spiritual. Of course, not all African Americans were bilingual or bicultural. Some families who had been among Indian people for generations knew only the Native language and culture. They adopted Indian dress, followed the Indian diet, used Native medicine, practiced Indian modes of agriculture, and celebrated Indian holidays and festivals.15 Black slavery among the Five Nations illustrates the grand example of Indian oppression of African Americans; however, it also allows, paradoxically, contemporary scholars to examine the most prolonged intimate interaction between the two peoples in the history of the United States.

The Seminoles represent the one exception to the pattern of Indian slaveholding. The experiences of their bondspeople differed markedly from those of other Indian Territory blacks. The Seminoles allowed their slaves to maintain an autonomous lifestyle and to keep arms, thus putting themselves at odds with their other Indian neighbors. Fears of Seminole-inspired slave rebellions were exacerbated in 1842 when Cherokee bondservants revolted, and more than 100 slaves attempted to escape to Mexico. The Seminoles and their slaves were wrongly blamed for the uprising.16

Eventually, this unease with their Indian neighbors caused Seminole Chief Wild Cat to lead a band of 200 Indians and blacks into northern Mexico in 1850. His action would generate a remarkable Indian-black-Mexican alliance on the border. Cora Montgomery, a journalist who resided at Eagle Pass on the Rio Grande, described the Seminole-black party as it passed into Mexico :

[Emerging] from the broken ground in a direction that we know was untraversed by any but the wild and hostile Indians, came forth a long procession of horsement. . . . Some reasonably well-mounted Indians circled round a dark nucleus of female riders, who seemed the objects of special care. But the long straggling rearguard [was composed of] an array of all manners, ages, sexes and sizes of negroes, piled up to a most bewildering height, on and among such a promiscuous assemblage of blankets, babies, cooking utensils . . . held together on horseback by themselves and their red brothers.17

The Mexican government allowed this band to create a colony in the state of Coahuila at the hacienda de Nacimiento in the Santa Rosa Mountains, 80 miles southwest of the Rio Grande. There Wild Cat welcomed other fugitive slaves from Texas as well as Plains Indians. After a series of meetings in San Antonio and other south Texas towns, slaveholders raised $20,000 for an expedition to recapture these fugitives and to destroy this Indian-black community that threatened Texas slavery itself. In October 1855, they sent 111 Texas Rangers to Mexico, ostensibly to "chastise hostile Indians" but, in fact, to attack Wild Cat and his followers and to return as many fugitive slaves as possible to Texas. A combined Mexican-Indian-black force of seven hundred armed defenders, however, drove the intruders back into Texas. Wild Cat's colony represented the largest Indian-black (and Mexican) military alliance in the nineteenth-century West.18

Native Americans and Buffalo Soldiers

There is no greater source of tension between Native Americans and African Americans than in the disparate recollections of the "Buffalo Soldiers," the approximately 25,000 men who served in four regiments, the Ninth and Tenth Cavalry and the Twenty-Fourth and Twenty-Fifth Infantry, between 1866 and 1900. These troops, along with cowboys, were the first African American Westerners to capture public attention in the 1960s. On July 25, 1992, General Colin Powell, then chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, dedicated the Buffalo Soldier Monument at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.

Long before the rest of the nation recognized them, however, nineteenth- and twentieth-century African Americans derived considerable pride from the soldiers' role as the "sable arm" of the government of the United States. Some African American soldiers eagerly embraced that role. "We made the West," boasted Tenth Cavalry Private Henry McCombs," we defeated the hostile tribes of Indians; and made the country safe to live in."19

But as early as 1969 Native American historians, such as Jack Forbes, began to probe the moral dilemma posed by the actions of these men. Were they not instruments in the subjugation of Native peoples in a society that despised them and the Indians? In recent years Native American people and scholars have gone even farther in their critique of the black soldiers. When U.S. Postmaster General Marvin Runyon announced a "Buffalo Soldiers" commemorative stamp in 1994, representatives of the American Indian Movement (AIM) demanded both the stamp's withdrawal and a public apology. "The pain of history cannot be so easily passed over, wrote Vernon Bellecourt in Indian Country Today, "we remember." Two years later when M. Dion Thompson, an African American correspondent for the Baltimore Sun, visited the Wounded Knee cemetery in 1996, he encountered a Lakota woman who said to him. "Buffalo soldiers. Buffalo soldiers and the white man killed my people. My ancestors are up there! And I don't appreciate you being here. Why don't you go look at Abraham Lincoln's grave."20

One scholar has argued that the United States Army "developed African American cavalry units . . . for the purpose of destroying Indians."21 I have found no evidence of black soldiers being recruited specifically to fight Native Americans. The primary responsibility of the black soldier, much like the white soldier, was to carry out the policy directives of the United States government and to protected the West's inhabitants. To be sure, these inhabitants were mostly European Americans rather than Native Americans or African Americans. But protection of the inhabitants also meant that Buffalo Soldiers guarded Native Americans in Indian Territory from other Indians (Chickasaws, Cherokee, and Creek farmers suffered as much from Comanche or Kiowa raids as white farmers in neighboring states). On occasion, it meant protection of Indian people from the depredations of white men. In 1879, for example, Tenth Cavalry troops protected Kiowa women and children from Texas Rangers who had invaded their village intent on killing and scalping its occupants. In 1887 units of the Ninth Cavalry protected the Ute Indians from Colorado militiamen determined to enter their reservation in pursuit of Indian raiders.22 Understandably the various Western Indian nations—the Comanche and Kiowa, for example, hated the soldiers—black or white—who pursued them after raids. But how did they feel about the black soldiers who defended their villages from attack?

We also know little about how Buffalo Soldiers saw Native Americans. Certainly, many black soldiers shared the anti-Indian bias of their white counterparts. Apparently these soldiers had little in common with the Hampton University students of the time. But the record occasionally shows examples of sympathy extended to Native peoples. After the 1890 Sioux uprising at Wounded Knee, the U.S. War Department stationed four companies of the Ninth Cavalry to guard the Sioux. Both Sioux and Buffalo Soldiers endured a winter that was bitterly cold even by upper Plains standards. There were record snowfalls and the temperature often fell to 30 ° below zero. One soldier, Private W. H. Prather, asked in a poem why both Indians and blacks were abandoned to this harsh Dakota winter. "The Ninth, the willing Ninth," he lamented, "[who] were the first to come, will be the last to leave, we poor devils, and the Sioux are left to freeze."23

This is an area that needs more investigation. While it is quite clear that many contemporary Native Americans see the "celebration" of the Buffalo Soldier role in the conquest of the West as not simply wrong but offensive, the historical record is far more complex. We need to know how Native warriors felt about Buffalo Soldiers, both as soldiers and as African Americans. Presumably, they saw a distinction between black and white soldiers. Thus the name "Buffalo Soldier."

But did that distinction also embrace a racial hierarchy? Did they consider African Americans special enemies or potential allies because of their race? Similarly, did black soldiers have a special animus toward Native peoples that prompted them to treat Indian people viciously? Did they project their own racial advancement by becoming adept at "hunting Indians?" Such questions must be addressed if we are truly to understand the complex and often contradictory relationship between Native Americans and African Americans in the late nineteenth-century West. Moreover, there are numerous examples of African Americans, including former or deserting soldiers, who made common cause with the Comanche, Kiowa, and other native peoples in defense of their land, or of the numerous Indian women who married African American soldiers, argue against assuming a simplistic "blacks versus Indians" approach to Western military history.

The attempt to elevate African American soldiers to heroic status on the backs of fallen indigenous warriors is wrongheaded. It is also historically inaccurate since "Indian fighting" was only a small measure of the role of black soldiers in the West. In fact, military records reveal that Buffalo Soldiers fought in proportionately fewer engagements with indigenous warriors than white soldiers. Yet, it is entirely understandable that many indigenous people hated black soldiers for carrying out orders that limited their traditional freedoms and confined them to reservations. As Native American scholar Cornell Pewewardy has aptly written, "As we retell our stories, reconstruct our history, and venture into multicultural learning we honor each other's past.24 To that end, both Native American and African American historians have a responsibility to learn from both sides about our mutual history. There is much work to be done regarding the reconstruction of the past of these two groups of color who have the longest history of interaction in the West, and, in fact, in the entire nation. Let us begin this work now.

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1Booker T. Washington, Up from Slavery: An Autobiography (New York: Doubleday, Page and Company, 1901), pp. 97-99.

2The entire de Olvera statement and account appear in George P. Hammond and Agapito Rey, eds., Don Juan de Onate: Colonizer of New Mexico, 1595-1628 (Albuquerque, NM: University of New Mexico Press, 1953), 560-62.

3See Quintard Taylor, In Search of the Racial Frontier: African Americans in the American West, 1528-1990 (New York: Norton, 1998), pp. 30-32, for a discussion of this emergent population.

4See Henry F. Dobyns, Spanish Colonial Tucson: A Demographic History (Tucson, AZ: University of Arizona Press, 1976), pp. 137-38 and Taylor, In Search , pp. 32-34.

5See Jack Forbes, "The Early African Heritage of California," in Lawrence B. de Graaf, Kevin Mulroy, and Quintard Taylor, eds., Seeking El Dorado: African Americans in California (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 2001), pp. 79-83.

6Dedra McDonald, "To Be Black and Female in the Spanish Southwest: Toward a history of African Women on New Spain 's Far Northern Frontier," in Quintard Taylor and Shirley Ann Wilson Moore, eds., African American Women Confront the West, 1600-2000 ( Norman : University of Oklahoma Press , 2003), pp. 39, 44-47.

7The quotation appears in Kenneth W. Porter, The Negro on the American Frontier (New York: Arno Press and the New York Times, 1971), p. 392.

8Ibid., pp. 406, 394, respectively.

9Ibid., pp. 386-87.

10Quoted in Porter, The Negro on the American Frontier, p. 417. For numerous other examples of African Americans participating in Comanche raids, see pp. 414-20.

11Ibid., pp. 397-98.

12See Taylor , In Search , pp. 62-71.

13Ibid., p. 64.

14Quoted in Theda Perdue, Slavery and the Evolution of Cherokee Society, 1540-1866 (Knoxville, TN: University of Tennessee Press, 1979), p. 107.

15See Taylor , In Search , pp. 67-68.

16Daniel F. Littlefield Jr., and Lonnie E. Underhill , "Slave 'Revolt' in the Cherokee Nation, 1842," American Indian Quarterly 3:2(summer 1977):121-31.

17The Montgomery quotation appears in Kevin Mulroy, Freedom on the Border: The Seminole Maroons in Florida, the Indian Territory, Coahuila and Texas (Lubbock, TX: Texas Tech University Press, 1993), p. 57. For background on the migration to Mexico , see pp. 46-60.

18See Mulroy, Freedom on the Border , pp. 77-81, and Ronnie C. Tyler, "The Callahan Expedition of 1855: Indians or Negroes?" Southwestern Historical Quarterly 70:4 (April 1967):574-85.

19The quotation appears in Frank N. Schubert, ed., On the Trail of the Buffalo Soldier: Biographies of African Americans in the U.S. Army, 1866-1917 (Wilmington, DE: Scholarly Resources, 1995), p. xviii.

20The first quotation is taken from Vernon Bellecourt, "The Glorification of Buffalo Soldiers Raises Racial Divisions between Blacks, Indians," Indian Country Today (Lakota times) , May 4, 1994 , p. A-5. The second quotation appears in M. Dion Thompson, "Visiting the World of the Buffalo Soldiers," Baltimore Sun , April 21, 1996 , Travel Section, p. 1. On Forbes's early critique of the celebratory historiography of the Buffalo Soldiers, see Jack Forbes, Afro-Americans in the Far West: A Handbook for Educators (Berkeley, CA: Far West Laboratory for Research and Development, 1969), p. 33.

21See Cornell Pewewardy, "A View of the Buffalo Soldiers through Indigenous Eyes," The Raven Chronicles 7:2 (summer/fall 1997): 50.

22The attack on the Kiowa camp and its defense by black soldiers is described in "Report of the Agent for the Kiowa, Comanche and Wichita Agency," Annual Report of the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, 1879 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1879), p. 64. See Ronald Coleman, "Buffalo Soldiers: Guardians of the Uintah Frontier, 1886-1901," Utah Historical Quarterly 47:4 (fall 1979):430, for an account of Buffalo Soldiers protecting Ute Indians from Colorado militiamen.

23Prather's poem, "The Indian Ghost Dance and War," appears in James Mooney, The Ghost Dance Religion and the Sioux Outbreak of 1890 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1896), 882-83.

24See Pewewardy, "A View of the Buffalo Soldiers through Indigenous Eyes, p. 52. See also Quintard Taylor, "A View of the Buffalo Soldiers through Indigenous Eyes: A Response," The Raven Chronicles 7:2 (summer/fall 1997):53-55.

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