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Meanwhile, two other Indians held Davis’ little boy, one by each hand, while a third shot him as if in target practice. In the cabin Mrs. Pettigrew held Rachel Hall close to her while an Indian approached so close that when he shot Mrs. Pettigrew the powder caused a blister to rise on her face. Rachel scampered to her sister, Sylvia, and they tried to hide behind the bed where two Indians took hold of them to drag them outside into the yard where they viewed the carnage around them. It was about four o’clock on a May afternoon, the 20th, 1832 at the Davis Settlement; ten to twelve miles north of Ottawa, Illinois, near present day Earlville. That day the “Indian Creek Massacre” was a turning point in the Black Hawk War. It followed by a week the defeat of the “army” at Stillman’s Run. It was a terrible defeat for the Illinois men sent to suppress the Native American over in Ogle County-to-be. Now this. Big Bill Davis had as much bluster about him as he had powerful muscles. He dominated any gathering. When others were taking their women and children over to Ottawa for protection, he said his family would stay there and he talked others into remaining or returning. It was plowing time. What with the four Pettigrews, the Halls, his own family and some single boys and men, he felt their number, maybe twenty-five, was strong enough to thwart an Indian attack. Estimate of the attackers however was between forty and seventy and they were impelled by their animosity and tolerance however of Big Bill. He had encroached upon one of the best fishing spots in the length of Big Indian Creek. The Indians had seined or apared fish there for decades. The two groups harassed one another all the time. Finally, Shabbona, that wise and fair-minded Indian chief who lived just to the north, intervened. He suggested the Indians fish below the mill dam and that those in the Davis Settlement use the stream above it. One recent day Big Bill opened the door of the cabin one morning in the pale green dawn to see an Indian digging in the earth that made up the dam, throwing it into the creek. He exploded. The situation became much more filled with anger, both sides. When the Indians attacked the settlement they were, as noted, “filled with hatred and fear.” Through the centuries Big Indian Creek made its winding way through the valley that was a couple hundred feet wide. It was an especially pretty place. The creek had cut a channel through a hill to make a slash perhaps fifteen feet high with the banks sloping back at a 45 degree angle. It was the perfect place to build a sawmill, a site Davis was searching for. Besides the mill and dam, he built a blacksmith shop and thus assured himself of a good living. Patrons would come from miles around to utilize both services and one day the Davis Settlement would become Davis City. The last Sylvia and Rachel saw of their father he was using his rifle as a club to defend his family. Two Pottawatomies, To-qua-mee and Co-mec, were leaders of the band of Native Americans raiding the Davis Settlement. They burst into the cabin and looked immediately for the girls who were trying to hide by the bed. The two men pulled them outside as they screamed. They could only imagine their fate. The two braves later confessed that they were infatuated with Sylvia and Rachel, seventeen and fifteen respectively. They had visited the place several times and tried to purchase the girls from their father in the native way. The girls were made to walk some distance and Rachel being separated from her sister was directed to walk into the creek, but only about halfway, then returned to shore to walk along the creek bank towards a timber about a mile and a half away. The Indians’ ponies were hidden there. The girls were lifted onto a pony each and with trotting off they took one last look at the mill/smithy site and now the carnage that lay around their home. They had settled here in 1830 thinking it would forever be their home. They saw that their father’s horses and some of the neighbors’ were included in the procession formed by the ponies, theirs being led by an Indian each at the bridle. They rode late into the night, the attack having occurred about four in the afternoon. They rested on blankets when stopped, then were remounted on the Indian saddles to march off again. They rode on seemingly endlessly until one or two in the afternoon of the next day. Rachel made a sign that they were very exhausted and if that was reason they halted wasn’t clear but they were halted, only allowed to walk. As they walked they came upon a stream about three feet deep. Rachel understood that she was to walk right through the water. She seemed destined for a baptism. They went on a short way, then stopped with a fire built. The girls rested on blankets while the Indians fixed a meal; scalded beans and some roasted acorns. The men ate heartily but they, though starved by then could barely get the food down. Part of that was the food and part their anxiety over their future ... Was it to be the same as their parents, family and neighbors? The strange activities of the Indians was all new to them so each one seemed some ritualistic order. Packed again on the ponies, they rode northward, part of the long procession. At some point some of the Indians left the party and didn’t return for a very long time. There was much jabbering when they returned and the ponies were whipped to a rapid rate for about an hour. When finally they stopped, a campfire was made, assumedly to prepare supper. The sisters, however, were made to burn tobacco and cornmeal in the fire and then it was placed in their hands, definitely some sort of ceremony. Or else, they later believed, to show their obeyance to their captors. This made them even more anxious. By now squaws had joined the party and when the sisters were taken into a wigwam two of the women were assigned to each. The sisters slept between their two women, allegedly, as guards. In the morning breakfast was partaken, much like the other meals and, meanwhile, a large circle was scraped out of the barren prairie about 90 feet in circumference. A tall pole erected in its center ... 25 feet high with around that, fifteen or twenty spears stuck in the ground. The girls were placed near the pole but far enough away to give room for the men to dance. They danced frequently. The squaws came with paint with which they covered the sisters’ heads and faces—half red, half black. The warriors danced, occasionally stabbing their spears into the ground. What this ritual was for they didn’t know. At one point some of the braves came in carrying some scalps and other objects that at first they didn’t recognize until the items were placed at the top end of the spears ... Two or three human heads and several human hearts; and three scalps. Sylvia and Rachel expected that with each pass by them the warriors made, they’d be thrust with the spears “bringing an end to their troubles.” But no. No “hostile demonstration occurred.” Slowly the scene took on a terrible image, one that tortured them for days after. The scalps were that of Mr. Pettigrew and that of their father and mother. —Next Week
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