DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'll do my best to honor every word. Now, by the time the Civil War rolled around — 1861 to 1865 — Texans already knew what Indian warfare looked like up close. Hostile tribes had made something of a business out of it: horses, cattle, women, children, all taken along those frontier trails lit up by what folks called the bright Comanche moons.
Those paths were marked by fires and ruin. That's the world this story lives in. But here's where the tale takes a turn, and you want to pay attention to this part.
The Tonkawa tribe was different. While other tribes raided and burned, the Tonkawas sought friendship with Texans. Not neutrality — friendship.
And when the Civil War came, that friendship became something the Confederacy leaned on hard. The Tonkawa scouts went to work along the entire frontier defense line, from the Red River all the way down to the Rio Grande, watching for hostile Indians and keeping an eye out for signs of Federal invasion. Now, some of the commanders who called on them were old Texas Indian fighters — men who, not so long before, had fought Tonkawas right alongside everybody else they considered a threat.
But in wartime, those same fighters asked for Tonkawa scouts by name. That tells you something. Those commanders valued the Tonkawas so much that when supplies ran short, they fed the scouts out of their own pockets — their own personal expense — just to keep them in the field.
And why? Because a few Tonkawa scouts were said to be worth more than two or three full companies of regular soldiers. They could stalk an enemy better than bloodhounds.
Better than bloodhounds. Let that settle in for a moment. And then came October 25th, 1862.
Near what is present-day Anadarko, Oklahoma, hostile Indians attacked the Tonkawa camp. Out of three hundred people — men, women, and children — one hundred and thirty-seven were killed. More than a third of the entire tribe, gone in a single attack.
That was the price of their Confederate loyalty. What came after was its own kind of slow ruin. When Chief Castile later requested a tribal home in Texas, the Tonkawas were placed at Fort Griffin.
They stayed there until 1884. Then they were removed to Oklahoma. The marker doesn't editorialize much.
It doesn't have to. A people who gave everything and were given a fort, and then given away — that story tells itself.
What the marker says
By the time of the Civil War, 1861-65, Texans knew the horrors of Indian warfare. Hostile tribes made a business of stealing horses, cattle, women and children. The paths they followed in the "bright Comanche moons" were marked by fires and ruin. The Tonkawa tribe, by contrast, sought friendship with Texans. They became valued allies in the Civil War, scouting against hostile Indians and watching for signs of Federal invasion. Old Texas Indian fighters, who once had fought Tonkawas along with others, in wartime asked for Tonkawa scouts. Along the frontier defense line from Red River to the Rio Grande, commanders valued them so much they fed them at personal expense when necessary, to obtain their help. A few Tonkawa scouts were more useful than two or three companies of regular soldiers. They could stalk enemies better than bloodhounds. They paid for their Confederate loyalty. On Oct. 25, 1862, near present Anadarko, Okla., hostile Indians attacked the Tonkawa camp, killing 137 men, women and children out of 300. When later their Chief Castile requested a tribal home in Texas, they were located at Fort Griffin, where they remained until 1884, and then were removed to Oklahoma.