A Daughter of the Sioux: A Tale of the Indian Frontier

Published in 1902, A Daughter of the Sioux is a classic tale of the Old West and the demise of the Indian

A Daughter of the Sioux

A Tale of the Indian Frontier

By General Charles King

Cowboy Classics

Charles King (October 12, 1844 in Albany, New York – March 17, 1933 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin) was a United States soldier and a distinguished writer.

King was the son of Civil War general Rufus King, grandson of Columbia University president Charles King, and great grandson of Rufus King, who was one the signers of the United States Constitution on September 17, 1787, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He graduated from West Point in 1866 and served in the Army during the Indian Wars under George Crook. He was wounded in the arm and head during the Battle of Sunset Pass forcing his retirement from the regular army. During this time he became acquainted with Buffalo Bill Cody. King would later write scripts for several of Cody's silents films. He also served in the Wisconsin National Guard from 1882 until 1897, becoming Adjutant General in 1895.

In the spring of 1885, General King (at that time Captain) was riding in the area of Delafield, Wisconsin after visiting the Cushing homestead on the Bark River (present day Cushing Park) and the parents of the three historic Cushing Brothers. Captain King came upon a man dressed in a bathrobe drilling young men with broomsticks. Watching this futile exercise by toy soldiers, General King began to chuckle. Reverend Sydney T. Smythe asked what was so funny, and the reply was, "I mean no disrespect, sir, but let me show you how it is done." He then proceeded to teach the young men the West Point Manual of Arms. The now Impressed Head Master of the St. Johns Military Academy (now the St. John's Northwestern Military Academy) inquired as to the gentlemen's name. Upon answering, Reverend Smythe shook hands and inquired on the spot of General King's availability.

Sample:

In less than no time, one might say, all Fort Frayne seemed hurrying to the northward bluff. The sight of tall Captain Blake bounding like a greyhound toward his troop barracks, and shouting for his first sergeant,—of Major Webb almost running across the parade toward the flagstaff,—of Sandy rushing back to his post at the telescope,—of the adjutant and officer of the day tearing away toward the stables, where many of the men were now at work, were signs that told unerringly of something stirring, probably across the Platte. As luck would have it, in anticipation of orders to move, the troop horses had not been sent out to graze, and were still in the sunshiny corrals, and long before the news was fully voiced through officers' row, Blake and six of his men were in saddle and darting away for the ford, carbines advanced the instant they struck the opposite bank.