CHAPTER FOUR

I CONSIDERED OUR CASE HOPELESS

SUMMERS IN COLORADO ARE NOTORIOUSLY HOT AND DRY, WITH NEAR-DROUGHT conditions only partially alleviated by violent thunderstorms; the summer of 1861 was no exception. The wild grass on the prairie surrounding treeless Denver City had turned brown and desiccated, and the crops the citizens had attempted to grow in their tiny backyards wilted under the blazing, unrelenting sun. Cherry Creek was reduced to a mere trickle, and the dun-colored South Platte, sluggish even during the spring runoff from the mountains, moved northward at a leisurely pace. Only the fat-trunked cottonwoods that lined the river’s banks showed any signs of green.

Tempers, too, were volatile during that hot summer, and arguments frequently flared, especially when the subject was the war, slavery, or secession. William Park McClure, Denver City’s postmaster and a strong advocate for the Southern cause (as well as the commander of the Denver Guards militia unit), got into a heated argument with his friend, probate judge Seymour W. Waggoner, a solid Union man. McClure had ordered a beautiful Confederate flag made of silk and on the day it arrived proudly showed it off to Waggoner, who feigned disinterest. “I want to see none but the flag of my country,” Waggoner asserted. When pressed by McClure to inspect it more closely, the angry Unionist spit a glob of chewing tobacco into the center of the Stars and Bars, declaring, “That’s what I think of your infernal rebel flag!” Only their long friendship kept the matter from turning to blows—or worse.1

Seymour W. Waggoner (right). (Courtesy, Colorado Historical Society, F-37,843 #10028285)

With no governor’s mansion yet in Colorado Territory, William Gilpin settled for modest accommodations: a hot and stifling apartment above the New York Store at the corner of E and Larimer Streets. He took two of the three rooms in the suite, and the territorial secretary, Lewis Weld, occupied the third.2 But William Gilpin was not the sort of man to consign himself to life behind a desk in a stuffy apartment. The former military commander with several campaigns under his belt knew that troops always appreciated and respected the officer who was visible at the front, sharing dangers and hardships with them, rather than one who was sitting safely in the rear. So, for the first few weeks after his arrival, Gilpin was absent from the capital, visiting instead the towns and mining camps, engaging in face-to-face meetings with his constituents so that he might better judge who was for the Union and who was not.

During the course of his travels, he spoke to the men he met about the regiment of volunteers he planned to raise and silently sized up the quality of the potential recruits, many of whom informed him that he could count on them in the event volunteers were required. He was impressed with what he saw. Like the men with whom he had served during the Frémont expedition, the campaign into Mexico, and his yearlong battle with the Indians of the plains, these men were accustomed to hard lives and were aware of the possibility of death or injury. Indeed, anyone who worked the gold and silver mines in those early days was a special breed of man—tough, resilient, resourceful, unafraid. Gilpin knew that if the Confederates ever threatened his territory, he would need an army composed of just such stalwart men to repel the invasion. His travels also pointed out Colorado’s alarming lack of military preparedness. Gilpin made improving the situation his priority, organizing in early June the vestiges of a territorial military staff.3

In July 1861, Colorado Territory was incorporated into the newly formed Western Department, which was under the command of Gilpin’s old friend, Major General John C. Frémont. This reorganization, however, did not result in Colorado reaping any sudden windfall of funds necessary to arm and equip a military force. With its own army still largely inept on the battlefield, the Federal government could ill afford to spare resources for the new territory.⁴ Therefore, with tensions between the Northern and Southern factions throughout Colorado becoming almost unbearable, Gilpin decided he could not wait for Washington to provide for his territory; he would take matters into his own hands. He would raise and equip his own regiment and build a military post to house it, even if he had to do it all on nothing more than his good word.

No doubt recalling his experiences in the war against Mexico when Doniphan’s regiment had gone unpaid for a year, and remembering Secretary of War Cameron’s verbal directive on the portico of the White House to “call out the soldiers and send your bills to me,” Gilpin was convinced that desperate times called for desperate measures. He searched for a solution, and finally found one—the promissory note. Backed by the Treasury of the United States of America, these notes would be better than a personal promise. Certain that the Federal government would honor his own—and Cameron’s—word, Gilpin began printing and issuing unauthorized certificates, called “sight drafts,” on the United States Treasury, drafts that assured merchants they would be paid in full for all goods at some later, unspecified date.⁵

In 1861 the cost of equipping an infantry regiment—for which the tent-age alone was $4,000 and the authorized twenty-five wagons were $150 apiece—was a hefty $60,000.⁶ But money was quite literally no object to Gilpin; he was responsible for the security of Colorado and its citizens, and he would do whatever was necessary to protect both. Now that the matter of funds had been solved, the next order of business was recruiting, equipping, and training soldiers. He knew the regular Federal troops stationed at Forts Garland and Wise could be transferred at any moment to New Mexico or the East, leaving the southern part of his territory undefended—a situation that he could not allow to happen.⁷

Gilpin had acted not a moment too soon, for Captain Joel McKee, a Texan and Southern sympathizer, was purchasing from Denver City residents all the rifles, muskets, shotguns, and ammunition he could find, apparently planning a coup d’etat that involved robbing local banks and business establishments, as well as government supply trains headed for New Mexico.

Gilpin instructed his territorial purchasing agent to beat McKee to the punch and pay whatever the residents wanted for their weapons and ammunition, no matter what the condition.8

Methodist minister John M. Chivington, who would become an officer in the new regiment, noted the divided sentiment:

The population here was very evenly divided when the war broke out. . . . The wealth of the country—what there was of wealth here at that time—was in the hands of the rebels, southern men, principally. They were the aggressive spirits of the territory. With those Gilpin Drafts, the Governor and the military authorities under him bought all the ammunition, percussion caps, lead, old arms and outfit of every description they possibly could purchase in the territory. First to keep them out of the hands of the rebels; secondly to make all the use we could of them for the common defence. We did not force any purchase of the arms but everywhere bought what could be had; but when we needed anything necessary such as clothing or food or equipments for horses . . . if they were not willing, we made them willing.⁹

The brazen actions of McKee and the others led Gilpin to worry about what other new plots were being hatched against Colorado. Would secessionist forces and pro-Union factions tear Colorado apart, just as the abolitionists and pro-slavery advocates had torn Kansas apart a decade earlier? Would the lure of gold and silver in the mines compel the Confederates to attempt an invasion? The possibilities were frightening.¹⁰

With war between North and South a reality, troop morale in New Mexico, already low, plummeted even further. Not only were the soldiers forced to endure months of frequently unpaid duty in desolate outposts far from their families and the comforts of civilization while facing dangers posed by marauding Apaches, but now they were further demoralized by the defections of many of their officers to the ranks of the Confederacy.

In May 1861, a month after hostilities between North and South began, Brigadier General Earl Van Dorn, the Confederate commander of the Department of Texas, realized the necessity of occupying Fort Bliss at nearby Magoffinsville (founded by James Magoffin) and seizing the government stores left behind there before Union troops in New Mexico could reclaim them. Van Dorn ordered firebrand Lieutenant Colonel John Robert Baylor to take a detachment of some 630 men of the Second Regiment of Texas Mounted Rifles (nicknamed “Baylor’s Babies”), plus an artillery battery, to Fort Bliss and secure any abandoned supplies and property. Van Dorn also gave Baylor the freedom to attack the Union garrison at Fort Fillmore, thirty miles north of Fort Bliss, if the opportunity presented itself.

Area of Franklin, Texas, ca. 1861.

Meanwhile, Sibley had departed Fort Union and was making his way to the capital of the Confederacy. On June 12, 1861, he stopped briefly at Hart’s Mill at Franklin, Texas,11 where he and several other officers formerly in the employ of the U.S. Army waited to board the semiweekly stagecoach for San Antonio. But first, after determining that the Union’s large quantities of food, ammunition, and other supplies at Fort Bliss¹² had been left unguarded, he hurriedly penned a letter to Colonel William Wing Loring, who had commanded the Department of New Mexico only since March 22 and who Sibley knew was also planning on joining the Confederacy. What he didn’t know as he boarded the San Antonio coach was that Loring had already placed Canby in general charge of the department before departing Santa Fé on June 11. Sibley’s letter, therefore, ended up in Canby’s hands, and a stunning letter it was. It read, in part:

Hart’s Mill, El Paso, Tex., June 12, 1861

Col. W. W. Loring:

My dear Loring: We are at last under the glorious banner of the Confederate States of America. It was indeed a glorious sensation of protection, hope, and pride. . . . Van Dorn is in command in San Antonio. He has ordered four companies of Texas troops to garrison this post. They cannot be expected to reach here, however, before the 1st proximo. . . . There are full supplies of subsistence and ammunition here for two or more companies for twelve months. The loss of these supplies by capture or destruction would occasion serious embarrassment to the cause. . . . I have promised to hasten on from below by forced marches the cavalry force en route here [i.e., Baylor’s men].

Meanwhile, you may, by delaying your own departure a week or two, add much to the security of this property. I regret now more than ever the sickly sentimentality (I can call it by no other name) by which I was overruled in my desire to bring my whole command with me. I am satisfied now of the disaffection of the best of the rank and file in New Mexico, and that we are regarded as having betrayed and deserted them. I wish I had my part to play over again; no such peace scruples should deter me from doing what I consider a bounden duty to my friends and my cause. . . . Should you be relieved from command too soon to prevent an attempt on the part of your successor to recapture, by a coup de main, the property here, send a notice by extraordinary express to Judge Hart. . . .13 Movements are in contemplation from this direction which I am not at liberty to disclose. You will arrive here in time for everything and to hear everything.

Faithfully yours,
H. H. Sibley¹⁴

On June 14, another eye-opening missive reached Canby, with orders from Washington to transfer all regular infantry in the territory to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. To replace them, Canby was directed to recruit two regiments of New Mexico volunteers. Ever the obedient soldier, Canby agreed to comply but sought to delay the actual move for as long as he could. He first transferred regular soldiers from the most distant forts to posts along the Rio Grande and decided to keep them there for as long as possible. This abandoning of the interior posts of Forts Buchanan and Breckinridge, Canby knew, would leave the white and Hispanic populations vulnerable to Apache attacks, but he had no other choice. The lack of horses, mules, and wagons in New Mexico was his official excuse for not responding quickly to the order.

Hoping that a firsthand assessment of the situation in New Mexico would convince the War Department to rescind or at least postpone the order, Canby dispatched one of his officers, Captain Robert A. Wainwright, to Washington to plead for the retention of the regulars until the danger of invasion from Texas had passed. Canby wanted those in power to be aware that the entire southwestern portion of the continent would be in grave danger of a Confederate invasion if their orders were carried out.15

Southwestern forts, ca. 1861.

Canby was also troubled by Washington’s directive to recruit local militia, for he distrusted volunteers in general and the New Mexicans in particular. He believed the populace was wholly unsuited for soldiering, as he saw in them very little fighting spirit, questioned their loyalty to the Union, and considered them untrained and untrainable because few of them could understand the military commands in English. In short, he regarded the New Mexican soldiers as “worse than worthless,” for he feared a local militia made up of these recruits could never stop a Confederate attack.16

Still ruminating over Sibley’s letter to Loring and hoping to solicit support, Canby dispatched a warning to the commanding officers at Forts Wise (Colorado) and Larned (Kansas) on June 16, informing them that he anticipated an invasion of New Mexico from Texas.¹⁷

Canby also had other worries. He strove to stop companies of New Mexico militiamen from raiding Navajo territory, raids that threatened to undermine his hard-won peace. In this Canby was unsuccessful, and the Navajos and New Mexicans began savaging each other’s settlements. This failure to persuade both sides to lay down their arms and live peacefully was personally frustrating to Canby but once the pro-Southern officers in New Mexico began deserting their posts, he found he had more urgent matters to consider.18

It wasn’t so much the loss of so many officers that bothered Canby as it was realizing that his comrades-in-arms had aligned themselves with the South and were now the sworn enemies of his country. After digesting Sibley’s letter to Loring, Canby had to face the fact that Loring and Sibley were involved in a plot to gain control of New Mexico. Rightly guessing that the Confederates would attempt to invade the territory from Texas via Fort Bliss and the Rio Grande, he repositioned his regulars. Elements of the Fifth Infantry Regiment were marched to Fort Union, east of Santa Fé, to guard the vital supply post.¹⁹

Canby then ordered Major Isaac Lynde, the Seventh Infantry Regiment’s commander and head of the Southern Military District of New Mexico, to close the more isolated Fort McLane and move its soldiers and supplies to Fort Fillmore, which was then under the command of Brevet Major Gabriel R. Paul. In his letter of June 24, Canby outlined the situation to Lynde:

Information has been received here that some movement is in contemplation from Fort Bliss against the interests of the Government in this Territory, at the head of which are Magoffin, Hart, and Crosby. Sibley is also said to be associated with them. It is alleged that Colonel Loring is in communication with these parties, and that he will remain in the department long enough to prevent any measures being taken to frustrate these designs. When Colonel Loring left this place, every officer here had implicit confidence in his integrity, but I am sorry to say that some information received since he left has shaken that confidence. It is . . . necessary that you should be on your guard against any betrayal of the honor or interests of the United States.²⁰

In another letter, written on June 30, Canby ordered Lynde to arrest Colonel Loring if he had the chance, and advised the major to muster in any of the volunteer troops he had already recruited. A West Pointer with thirty-four years in the army, Lynde replied, “I received your dispatches yesterday [July 6] and was very much astonished to receive such proofs of treachery against Colonel Loring. I had always believed him to be a man of most unflinching honor and integrity. I was not so much disappointed in Major Sibley.”²¹

Lynde then detailed the problems associated with the defense of Fort Fillmore. Located in a valley that was virtually surrounded by chaparral-covered dunes, Fort Fillmore was ill-sited. Lynde pointed out that an entire enemy regiment could sneak up to within 500 yards of the post without being spotted. Furthermore, he saw that rebel guns could be placed on the high ground and bombard the fort into dust. He further advised Canby, “I am now of the opinion that if Texas should make a strong effort to overcome Arizona, it would be policy to withdraw our force . . . to Fort Craig, as I do not think this post or the valley worth the exertion to hold it. If no more [Confederate] troops reach Fort Bliss, I do not think they will attempt aggressive movement against this Territory other than theft or robbery, yet I shall be on my guard at all times.”22

Brimming with confidence that would soon prove unwarranted, Lynde penned another dispatch the same day from Fort Fillmore:

I have arrived at this post [from Fort McLane] . . . with the regimental staff, band, and Company E, Seventh Infantry, and found that no demonstrations from Texas had been made on this post. The remaining companies of the Fort McLane command, viz, B and I, Seventh Infantry, will be here to-day. I shall then have very little fear of the result of any attack that will likely to be made from Texas. . . . With the force that I shall have at this post in a few days, I do not think that the enemy will attempt to attack us, but if they do, I think we shall give them a warm reception.²³

Seven companies of infantry and two of mounted rifles would soon be garrisoned at Fort Fillmore.²⁴

On July 6, Canby sent a dispatch to Governor Gilpin, requesting that he raise a force of volunteers and send it to Fort Garland, some 160 miles southwest of Denver City and over 100 miles north of Fort Union. Canby pointed out that the problems with the Indians made it impossible for him to send any of his troops to garrison Fort Garland. In fact, Canby requested that Gilpin

cause two companies of infantry volunteers to be enrolled and sent to that post, to be mustered into the service of the United States at as early a period as possible. . . . The commanding officer at Fort Garland will be instructed to muster these companies into the service, and the arms and camp and garrison equipage necessary to equip them for service will immediately be sent to that post. No clothing can be issued at present, and the volunteers should be provided in this respect for at least three months.²⁵

What Canby did not yet know, however, was that Governor Gilpin had no troops to send.

On July 7, after learning that Baylor’s men had taken control of Fort Bliss and were likely headed his way, Canby again sought permission from the War Department to retain his regulars:

The state of affairs at the South and the increasing Indian hostilities [in New Mexico] will render it inexpedient to detach any of the force now in this section. Fort Bliss has been re-enforced by four companies of Texas troops. The movements of these troops have no doubt been hastened for a special purpose, in connection with enterprises against this department.26

Despite his complete lack of faith in volunteer militia, Canby realized that he was running out of time and thus sent a letter to New Mexico governor Abraham Rencher, requesting that he issue an appeal for volunteers. The request must have also been difficult for Rencher, a pro-South Democrat from North Carolina, but he complied with Canby’s request and called for men to take up arms against a potential invasion.

As July wore on, more than the weather in New Mexico began to heat up. On July 21, Lynde informed Canby that Baylor’s scouting parties operating from Fort Bliss had been spotted twenty-two miles south of Fort Fillmore. Two columns of U.S. troops from the fort had also skirmished with Confederates ten miles south of the post. Another mounted patrol was sent to San Tómas in search of the reported enemy. Lynde further gave Canby the worrying news that “information has reached me that ammunition is being sent from Fort Bliss to Mesilla [New Mexico]. I have accordingly ordered all wagons from that direction be stopped and searched.”²⁷

In Colorado, Gilpin knew that Canby’s situation was becoming more urgent by the day, and it didn’t take the latter’s letter of July 6 to spur the governor to action. In an effort to obtain arms for a regiment that did not yet exist, Gilpin dispatched messengers to Forts Laramie, Kearny, and Leavenworth, expressing his need for weapons and ammunition. Then, upon learning that the Second Dragoons were being transferred from Utah to the East, Gilpin practically begged them for weaponry but received only vague assurances from Colonel Philip St. George Cooke. In fact, Gilpin received no promises of immediate aid from anyone.²⁸ Although he had few weapons in hand, the governor could at least begin recruiting men in hopes of one day receiving the rifles and muskets with which to arm them. He was not a moment too soon, for events were about to take an ominous turn.

On the night of July 24, 1861, Confederate Lieutenant Colonel John R. Baylor and a strike force of 300 men were encamped on the Rio Grande within sight of Fort Fillmore. A former Federal artilleryman, now in Baylor’s service, could not bear the thought of firing on the Stars and Stripes and thus crept into the fort to warn Lynde of the impending attack.²⁹ Having lost the element of surprise, Baylor marched his “Babies” the next day into Mesilla, six miles due west of the fort, where he and his men were enthusiastically greeted by the strongly pro-Confederate residents.

Seizing the initiative, Lynde decided to attack Baylor. With 380 men of the Seventh U.S. Regiment and a battery of artillery, Lynde marched upon Mesilla late on the afternoon of July 26. It was now Lynde who lost the element of surprise. Large clouds of dust on the horizon announced the Union movement and gave Baylor sufficient time to post his men in buildings, on rooftops, in fields, and behind walls. Lynde sent one of his officers to the town to demand surrender. In his official report, Lynde wrote that the rebels “replied that if I wanted the town, I must come and take it. I moved the battery forward and fired two shells at long range, but they burst in the air short of the object.” The rebels jeered the Yankee gunners’ ineptitude.30

Lynde then moved his infantry and artillery forward. “From a corn field and house on the right,” he wrote, “we received a heavy fire of musketry, wounding 2 officers and 4 men and killing 3 men. As night was coming on, and the fields and houses on both sides of the road were filled with men, and the howitzers useless, except as a field battery, owing to the difficulty of moving through the sand, I decided to withdraw my force and return to my post.”³¹

The abortive assault on Mesilla caused the major to lose his nerve. Although his command outnumbered the Confederates, Lynde heard that the Texans were about to receive an artillery battery and felt his troops would be no match for the rebels. Thus, he retreated to Fort Fillmore in preparation for abandoning it. The fort, Lynde feared, could not hold out for long, as its nearest water source was over a mile away. That night he ordered his men to pack the remaining supplies, set fire to the buildings, and withdraw through a pass in the Organ Mountains to Fort Stanton, some 125 inhospitable miles to the northeast. On that same evening, Baylor’s command in Mesilla was reinforced by another 100 men, and many of the male citizens of the town elected to take up arms and join the rebels.

Lynde later reported to Canby that he “had no personal knowledge of the road [to Fort Stanton], but it was reported to me that the first day’s march would be 20 miles to Saint Augustine Springs, where there would be abundance of water for all the command.” But the retreat proved disastrous. Many of Lynde’s 500 men became dehydrated and began collapsing from heat exhaustion. Lynde wrote, “About 6 miles before reaching the Springs commences a short ascent to a pass in the Organ Mountains and here the men and teams suffered severely with the intense heat and want of water, many men falling and unable to proceed. On reaching the Springs, I found the supply of water so small as to be insufficient for my command.”³²

Because of the difficult climb to reach the springs, Lynde led a small party ahead to gather all the water that they could carry, before turning back to rejoin the main body of the column, which was still struggling to climb the pass. This ride proved too much for Lynde, who was overcome with heat exhaustion and could no longer stay in the saddle. Several of the men carried the water back to the rest of the column while Lynde, near collapse, returned to the springs. At that moment, an expressman galloped up with a note from Captain Alfred Gibbs, who had been escorting a supply train from Fort Craig to Fort Fillmore and wanted to warn Lynde that eight companies of mounted Texans from Mesilla were closing fast.33

Lynde wrote to Canby, “Under the circumstances, I considered our case hopeless; that it was worse than useless to resist; that honor did not demand the sacrifice of blood after the terrible suffering that our troops had already undergone.”³⁴

Pursuing and overtaking the Federals, Baylor’s 162-man detachment found the bluecoats too weak and thirsty to resist and captured them all—along with 200 horses, 270 head of cattle, wagons, weapons, ammunition, food, supplies of all kinds, and four pieces of artillery. Baylor reported, “Upon gaining the summit of the Pass, a plain view of the road to the San Augustine Springs was presented. The road for 5 miles was lined with the fainting, famished soldiers, who threw down their arms as we passed and begged for water.”³⁵

Lynde said to his captor, “Colonel Baylor, to avoid bloodshed, I conditionally surrender this whole force to you, on condition that officers and their families shall be protected from insult and private property be respected.” Lynde later reported that the Texans “acted with great kindness to our men, exerting themselves in carrying water to the famishing ones in the rear; yet it was two days before the infantry could move from the camp, and then only by the assistance of their captors.”³⁶

Captain Gibbs submitted his own report of the incident to Canby:

Major Lynde at this time [at the Springs] sent me word that I could leave for Fort Stanton, but before I could get a sack of flour and a side of bacon as rations for my men, Colonel Baylor had arrived, the surrender had been agreed upon by Major Lynde and himself without consulting a single officer, and I was ordered by Major Lynde not to attempt escape. Upon being informed of the surrender, every officer in the command protested against it; but it was of no avail, and the command of seven companies of the Seventh U.S. Infantry and three companies of Rifles were voluntarily surrendered without striking a blow. After great suffering and want of water, we were marched to Las Cruces, when our horses, arms, transportation, &c., were turned over to the Texans. We left Las Cruces on the 2d instant and arrived here [Fort Craig] this morning [August 6].³⁷

Those Union soldiers who did not agree to the terms of surrender—to abandon their weapons and retire all the way to Fort Leavenworth—were marched south to Fort Bliss and into captivity.38 In all, 410 officers and enlisted men were taken prisoner. Baylor also sent a detachment ahead to Fort Stanton to collect and bring back “all the property and stores of value” that had been abandoned by Lieutenant Colonel Benjamin S. Roberts, Third U.S. Cavalry, and commander of the fort. (Upon receiving news of the disaster at Fort Fillmore, and assuming his post would be the next attacked by the Confederates, Roberts followed Lynde’s lead, ordering Fort Stanton to be razed and moving his soldiers to Fort Craig.³⁹) Baylor also found $9,500 in Federal drafts still at Fort Fillmore—almost all of which he was able to cash.⁴⁰

John Baylor, leader of the first Confederate expedition into New Mexico Territory. (Colorado Historical Society)

Knowing that it was impossible to follow up his successful foray and continue his drive with such a small force, Baylor informed Van Dorn of his victory, adding:

I have proclaimed myself the governor, have authorized the raising of four companies to hold the Territory and afford protection to the citizens, and extended the limits of the Territory to the parallel of 36° 30'; thence due west to the Colorado [River], and down that stream to its mouth. The vast mineral resources of Arizona, in addition to its affording an outlet to the Pacific, make its acquisition a matter of some importance to our Government.41

Unaware that it was Sibley who had already been assigned the mission of exploiting Baylor’s initial foray, Baylor declared that Mesilla was now the Confederate territorial capital. He continued, “Now that I have taken possession of the Territory, I trust a force sufficient to occupy and hold it will be sent by the Government, under some competent man.” He had no idea that the “competent man” he was hoping for would, instead, turn out to be Henry Hopkins Sibley.⁴²

NOTES

1. Quotation from J. E. Wharton, History of the City of Denver (Denver: Byers & Daily, 1866), 81; Frank Hall, History of the State of Colorado, 4 vols. (Chicago: Blakely, 1889–1895), 1:269. Waggoner later joined the Second Colorado Infantry Volunteers, under Colonel Jesse H. Leavenworth, and was made a captain in command of a company. During a battle against 100 of George Todd’s guerillas in Missouri on July 6, 1864, Waggoner and seven of his men were killed. Hall, History of the State of Colorado, 300–301. McClure joined the rebel army and died in battle. Jerome C. Smiley, History of Denver (Denver: Times-Sun Publishing, 1901).

2. Wharton, History of the City of Denver, 89.

3. Smiley, History of Denver, 377–378.

4. Thomas L. Karnes, William Gilpin—Western Nationalist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1970), 275.

5. Karnes, William Gilpin, 277–279.

6. Colorado Republican, July 18, 1861.

7. Smiley, History of Denver, 378.

8. While attempting to flee to Texas with their newfound armaments, McKee and some forty of his cohorts were apprehended by soldiers from Fort Wise, in the southeast corner of the territory, and returned to Denver City, where Gilpin had them arrested on charges of treason and hauled off to jail. McKee and his men escaped during the winter of 1861–1862; some were recaptured and some froze to death on the plains. Rocky Mountain News, October 9, 1861.

9. John M. Chivington, “The First Colorado Regiment” (Bancroft papers, Mss XA, 419, CHS), 2.

10. Karnes, William Gilpin, 273.

11. Although the names “Franklin” and “El Paso” had been used interchangeably over the years, Franklin was not officially renamed El Paso until 1873.

12. The fort, named for Lieutenant Colonel William Wallace Smith Bliss, General Zachary Taylor’s Chief of Staff during the Mexican-American War, moved five different times between 1848 and 1891. In 1861, the post stood near the intersection of Willow and Magoffin Streets in present-day El Paso. “Fort Bliss,” Department of the Army pamphlet, undated.

13. Along with James W. Magoffin and Josiah F. Crosby, Simeon Hart was one of the most influential pro-Southern inhabitants of western Texas. Hart, who had served in Doniphan’s regiment during the Mexican-American War, was a judge and also owned Hart’s Mill, a major flour-milling operation near Fort Bliss. Magoffin was a wealthy and influential Missourian who owned a trading post across the Rio Grande in the Mexican town of El Paso del Norte; he also leased the land to the Army upon which Fort Bliss stood. Josiah F. Crosby was a district judge who had also been elected to the Texas state legislature. Martin H. Hall, Sibley’s New Mexico Campaign (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1960), 10.

14. The War of the Rebellion, Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies, 128 vols. (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1880–1901) [hereafter cited as “Official Record”], 4:55–56.

15. Ibid., 33–36; and M. H. Hall, Sibley’s New Mexico Campaign, 24.

16. Max L. Heyman, Prudent Soldier: A Biography of Major General Edward R.S. Canby (Glendale, CA: Arthur H. Clark, 1959), 144–147.

17. Official Record, 4:40.

18. Heyman, Prudent Soldier, 15–140.

19. M. H. Hall, Sibley’s New Mexico Campaign, 24–25.

20. Official Record, 4:56–57.

21. Ibid., 58.

22. Ibid.

23. Ibid., 58–59.

24. Ibid., 57–59.

25. Ibid., 53–54.

26. Ibid., 54–55.

27. Ibid., 60.

28. Karnes, William Gilpin, 278.

29. Official Record, 4:4.

30. Ibid.

31. Ibid.

32. Ibid., 5.

33. Ibid., 6; Francis Stanley, The Civil War in New Mexico (Denver: World Press, 1960), 135–137.

34. Official Record, 4:6.

35. Ibid., 18.

36. Ibid., 6, 11.

37. Ibid., 7–8.

38. In November, Gibbs requested that a board of inquiry be convened to investigate the matter, and later that month Major Lynde was dismissed from the army for acts of “treason or cowardice.” Ibid., 8, 16.

39. Ibid., 22–23.

40. Ibid., 149, 157.

41. Ibid., 23.

42. Ibid., 20, 23.