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Chapter X, Part II
Wars of Boone County
1880 Boone County History

Return to 1880 History of Boone County Index

The following three sketches entitled "The Wars of Bootie County" recently appeared in the Boone county Democrat. They may possibly be faulty in some particulars, but we give them as published, for what they are worth, believing as we do that they are with all their imperfections well worth a place in the permanent history of the connty. Boone county has had more or less war in her borders and adjacent thereto. Back of the war of the rebellion, in which the county and her boys figured so prominently, and about which we shall write hereafter, the county had three wars which were peculiarly her own. They are the Inkpaduta War, the Pardee Siege, and the River Land Skirmish. THE INKPADUTA WAR The Inkpaduta War broke out in early April, 1857. Settlers had the year before located at Spirit Lake, Dickinson county, and, although there were no Indians in Iowa, there were several camps or lodges of them in the "big woods" near the Iowa line in Minnesota. The winter of 1856-57 was a fearful one. It was uniformly extremely cold, and the snow lay from two to twenty feet deep on the ground. The settlers at Spirit Lake were snowbound from the first of December until in April following, but about the middle of March, 1857, Inkpaduta and his band, some seventy or eighty strong, starved out at home, came down to Spirit Lake on snow-shoes, and after pillaging all they could find and killing all the stock about the place began to massacre the people, and did kill seven and wound many more before they were driven off by the surviving settlers, who "forted," and by their united efforts succeeded in driving the Indians off. News of the massacre was brought to Fort Dodge about the first of April, and to Boonesboro the next day or so. Following the news came fleeing settlers going south, and a day or two afterward, about the sixth day of April, came the news that Inkpaduta, after murdering all the settlers north of Fort Dodge and Webster City, had surrounded those towns, and the people could not long keep them off. This last news came to Boonesboro about two o'clock. A meeting was at once called at the court-house, and a company one hundred strong organized to go to the relief of the besieged towns. Judge McFarland was chosen superior officer, Samuel B. McCall was elected captain, George B. Redman first lieutenant, Jonas H. Upton second lieutenant, James Wright wagon-master, Dr. DeTarr surgeon, and John A. Hull commissary. Hon. C. Beal locked his house, took his wife behind him on his pony to her father on the west side of the river, where he left her, and started north on his own hook, recruiting wherever he could find a man who could leave home. There were hurried but tearful partings at Boonesboro of husbands and wives, and their uncles, cousins, and aunts. After regularly confiscating a ton of flour that belonged to John Grether, the same quantity of bacon belonging to Clark Luther, all the oats that William Pilcher had, and all the powder and fire-water in town, the company was ready to march at half past four o'clock. An eye witness describes the departure as 'grand, gloomy, and peculiar.' Old men and boys too weak to endure the hardships of the march had to be driven back to prevent their going to the front, and a rear guard was put out to keep such stragglers back; yet many old men and boys escaped the guard, and by going cross-lots came into camp that night at Hook's Point, where the commissary had four big log heap fires and a whole barrel of whisky. But those men did not drink. It was there for strictly medical purposes, and dealt out only on the surgeon's requisition. No one slept that night, as the constantly passing wagons, filled with fleeing settlers who confirmed the reports of the day before, kept the company under arms all night. About daybreak an alarm was sounded. The pickets came in and for a time they were sure the Indians were coming. A cow that had been left at home, some distance off, had got hungry and came trotting down the road, followed by some others of her family, making a terrible din with an old cracked bell about her neck and created the alarm. She escaped unhurt, unless the damning she got hurt her. After a hurried breakfast, the company started for Webster City. The day was cold, with a fierce wind blowing in their faces. They reached Webster City about two o'clock, where they were received in a very hostile manner by the people. Bucketfuls, pitcherfuls, jugfuls, and bottlefuls of distilled and boiled down hostility met them at every turn and corner. In fact, men fleet of foot met the command out of town with buckets full of rye, etc. A general invitation was given them to enjoy the freedom of the city, and every house was thrown open to them. A public meeting was heid at the school house that night, at which the people voted the company thanks and a fitting testimonial. It is related that on account of the exposure of the men on their trip, Dr. DeTarr and Judge Mitchell were the only members of the company that could appear and respond on behalf of the company. Dr. DeTarr's speech was printed in full in the Freeman. The company all slept well that night. There was not an Indian in the State, except the harmless Pottawattamies of Indian Town, under their 00chief Johnny Green, and it was suggested that the company go down and give them battle. The next day the company returned home, without the loss of a man. The flour, bacon, oats, and fire-water left over they gave to the needy settlers on the route home. It is said that Mr. Beal and his command fortified near West Dayton where they would have remained all summer if word had not been sent them from Boonesboro that the war was over. In due time a splendid testimonial, with appropriate inscriptions, was sent to the company by the ladies of Webster City, but unfortunately the testimonial and the roll of the company have been lost, unless they have been put away by some one of the party to keep as relics. The name of the company was 'The Boonesboro Tigers.' Why this name was used cannot be explained. A temperance lecturer in a lecture at Webster City during that summer characterized the advent and visit of the 'Tigers' as the reign of a drunken mob; and in appreciation of their opinion of him, the good people of Webster City presented him with a large leather medal, upon which was drawn a rough copy of the mule's father. It would be a pleasant task to note the names of these gallant men, who, in fearful earnest, with fight staring them in the face, left their homes on so short notice to go to the defense of the helpless; but time and change has had tlie effect to obliterate recollections of them, and the part they 0severally took in this matter must be regarded as lost forever. THE PARDEE SIEGE The Pardee siege began in early April, 1858. John Pardee and his sons, John, Nat, Ben and Bart, had incurred the displeasure of many of their neighbors, who resolved that 'the Pardees must go.' After repeated warnings to this effect, the Pardees did not go, and by accident or purpose all occupied old man Pardee's house, which was a large hewed log building on a hillside in an open space, and well calculated for military defense. One morning the Pardees found themselves besieged in their house. If one of them showed his head, a shot from an adjacent thicket, tree or stump sent him back to consider. Now and then a shot into the side of the house reminded them that there was danger outside. This state of affairs lasted a day or so, and, as a matter of course, both parties began to grow restless. The Pardees were well armed, and provided with all the means of defense and subsistence. The besieged numbered four men and the boy Bart, only about twelve years old, but he proved the bravest one and the best shot of all. The besiegers numbered from thirty to forty, all well armed and all good shots. Finding it impossible to dislodge the Pardees without storming the fort, which was a bit hazardous, and fearing that they had plenty of provisions to enable them to stand out for a long while, the attacking party finally adopted the Indian method of setting fire to the house. They loaded a wagon with hay, and Jo Masters, provided with a firebrand, ensconced himself in the hay at the front of the wagon, and two men undertook the task of pushing the wagon down the declivity against the house. While so engaged, and just as Masters raised up to throw the firebrand on the top of the house, a bullet from the house pierced his brain, and he fell dead. At the same time the men who were pushing the wagon were shot in the feet and legs by parties from the house shooting under the wagon. This spread dismay among the besiegers. They had not intended to kill anyone, or that they should be killed. They were merely intending to intimidate the Pardees, and drive them out of the country; and, had the house taken fire and the Pardees ran out, they would not have been shot. But the Pardees were in earnest, and shot to kill. It was said that the boy Bart did the shooting of Masters, contrary to the wish and orders of his father and older brothers. The besiegers, under a flag of truce, carried off their dead comrade and withdrew, leaving the Pardees masters of the situation. The matter soon found its way into the courts. Warrants were issued, and thirty residents of Yell township, at least one-half of whom were innocent, were arrested and brought before county judge McCall, acting as magistrate. The times grew so hot that the judge dismissed the proceedings and advised all the parties to go and sin no more. But the grand jury could not ignore such public facts, and the parties arrested before Judge McCall were all indicted at the spring terra of 1859, charged with an assault with intent to kill. So many prisoners, and all the witnesses, and an excited public, filled the court-house chuck full for many terms. At last one of the accused, Jacob Long, was put on trial. After a week's fight he was convicted before Judge Porter, of the District Court, of simple assault, and fined ten dollars and costs, which latter were enormous. It broke him up. He had been full handed before that, and he left here for the far West, as poor as poverty could make him. It was believed by the court and state's attorney that Long was innocent, but stood up to the rack rather than call upon the guilty ones to prove he was not there. Some year or so after that one Miles Randall, who was supposed to be a friend of the Pardees, was caught in the woods in that township, and whipped most outrageously, and yet the guilty parties were never identified. Randall left the country soon after his whipping, and old man Pardee and his boys gradually sold out and went away. Bart was a member of the Third Iowa regiment in the war of the rebellion, and our boys who were with him in the service say he made a splendid soldier, and was brave and dauntless as ever. No one ever called him to account for killing Masters. It is said that not one of the actors in that scene are now residents of the county. Most of them are dead. The survivors have emigrated westward. RIVER LAND SKIRMISH The river land skirmish occurred in April, 1859. The causes that led to this war have been so often written that they are familiar to all, but for impartiality's sake I repeat them. In the winter of 1857 the people along the Des Moines river north of Des Moines almost unanimously petitioned the legislature to abandon daming the river (they wanted an outlet for their maple sugar), settle up some way with the river company, and use the land to build a railroad up and along the Des Moines river. The legislature had lost faith in the slack-water enterprise also, and granted the petitions. They gave nearly all the land to the company for the two half-dams they had built. They allowed all the charges for outlays and expenses of the company, and paid them in land at one dollar and a quarter an acre, when it was said to be worth from five to ten dollars per acre. These two half-dams cost the State a strip of land five miles wide from the Mississippi river to Fort Dodge. Hon. C. Beal, member of the house from this county, who had been the company's attorney here, 'dodged the vote.' The people were unanimous in calling that 'settlement' a 'downright steal.' It really looked so to them, and they united in saying that if the company got the land they ought to take it unincumbered with timber, and all united to remove it. The best ethics of the times allowed a man to cut and take timber off the river lands. It is rather believed that the pulpit encouraged it, because the preachers did it. This region then presented a fine field for labor. Times were hard, and the timber harvest brought many adventurers from other counties to help remove the incumbrance. Such was the commercial stagnation here for a year or so that the only articles of commerce were timber and maple sugar. The market for these products was Fort Des Moines. Timber was cut, hauled to the river and then floated in rafts to the new capital city, to be used in its building boom. Many farmers took rafts of logs from their deeded land, and our people waxed fat and Fort Des Moines grew apace upon our timber trade, which was indeed brisk. But the chiefs of the river company began to suspect that all was not right up this way. They wanted the timber left on their land. So they employed sub agents and detectives, who went up and down the river with a sort of secret brand which they placed somewhere on every log and stick of hewed timber near the river and all through the county. This brand was not observed by teamsters, raftsmen, or owners, but when the raft pnlled up at the Fort the entire raft wonld be replevied from them by the river company. No doubt these agents and detectives thought they were branding none but river land logs, but in that they erred, and branded many logs that came off deeded land. Raftsmen that had formerly come home overland with a good supply of groceries, wet and dry, and full of fun and jolly, began to come home despondent, and having a few new invectives for that d—d thief, the river company. Men who owned these rafts abandoned them rather than go to law. So the sole branch of our winter, spring, and early summer industry was about to be cut off. There is nothing that hurts a fellow so much as to interfere with his trade, and while this wholesale, reckless branding was wrong, and furnished a good cause for war, the people thought these branders a nuisance and that jt was right to suppress them. A man by the name of Farr was the west side brander, and Warner the east side brander. One day Farr was found in the timber in upper Yell township and whipped awfully. He was tied to a tree, and three or four men had in turn worn out 'gads' on his bare back and shoulders, when he was let loose to take care of himself. The same party proceeded to the river, and there saw Warner on a ratt of logs on the other side of the river, then considerably swollen, busy with his branding iron. They opened fire on him with their rifles, and the balls whistled in such close proximity to his head that he forgot he was a lame man and hastily withdrew. These terrified and abused men went to Des Moines that night and reported the outrages. Hon. D. O. Finch and Col. Crocker (who, by the way, was a graduate of West Point), were the attorneys of the company, and they at once raised a company of men to come up here and enforce the law and preserve order. They came up in force and well armed. Part of them bivouacked at Dr. Hull's tavern, three miles out, and part of them came into town. They were a match for anything - but I must not comment. The quartering of troops among the sires of 1776 was one of the causes that led to the revolution, and the presence of these armed men from Fort Des Moines did not in the least allay the excitement. Warrants were issued for several parties and they were arrested. Among them was old man Phipps, one of the most peaceable and best disposed men in the county. The men who abused Farr and shot at Warner were all disguised, and Mr. Farr could not identify them; yet as soon as he saw the gray-haired old man he had Mr. Finch discharge him. In the mean time the people of the county began to come in. A bloody row seemed imminent, and would undoubtedly have occurred, but for the cool head and determined bravery of the sheriff, William Holmes, who was day and night on the streets mingling with the crowds. The court was in session at the court-house, which was jammed and crammed full, and there were at least three hundred deadly weapons there, in the possession of men who wonld have used them upon the slightest pretext. An eye witness of that scene describes it as the most perilous one he was ever permitted to see. During the evening the sheriff was so much occupied in watching the belligerants that he lost sight of his prisoner for a few minutes and he disappeared. How he got out no one could tell. This necessitated an adjournment for the night. A new warrant was issued, but the parties could not be found, and Mr. Finch and his escort withdrew from the field. A week or so after that the prisoners in a body straggled into town and gave themselves up. They gave bonds for their appearance that day week, and the justice notified Mr. Finch of the time of trial, but he was so engaged with other matters that he could not appear. He tried to employ local attorneys to prosecute, but they were all too busy or had been engaged by the other side. So the case went by default, and the prisoners were discharged. On the day set for the trial there were at least four hundred residents of the county and elsewhere in town ready to receive the Des Moines delegation. Their arms were stacked in a building convenient to the court-house, and they meant business. It is asserted that one of Mr. Farr's Des Moines neighbors was one of the party that did the mischief, and that the entire party came from Polk and Dallas counties, not one of them being a resident here. This stopped the log-branding business, and low water in the river for a year or so destroyed the timber trade south, and the people set to work to build upon and fence their lots and farms with timber so plentiful and cheap, but now the timber from the river land is all gone, and stumps and brush mark its line so well that a stranger passing through the timber can point out where the river land tract begins and where it ends. The house in which l am writing has its share of river land timber in it.

Source: The History of Boone County, Iowa, 1880, Union Historical Company
Transcribed by Lynn Diemer-Mathews and uploaded September 2, 2025.

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