By Ken Edwards
Rufus Farrington was an early settler in the Arizona Territory, arriving in late 1863. He was one of the incorporators of the Fort Mojave and Prescott Toll Road Company that was given exclusive right to build and maintain a wagon road between the two communities. His road station at Walnut Creek, northwest of Prescott, was more than once the victim of raids by "Apaches".
"Apaches" was a common term that was generally applied to any hostile Indians by pioneers at this time in this area who were blamed for almost everything in those days. In November of 1865, Indians stole a yoke of oxen, a Sharps rifle, provisions and bedding. They also reportedly burned 30 tons of hay and a two-horse wagon. A year later, his ranch north of Prescott was raided and he lost several oxen, milk cows, mules and a brood jack.
In 1952, his daughter, Blanche Farrington Chapman, wrote an account to the Arizona Historical Society of Rufus's favorite story. How he alone chased a band of hostile Indians across miles of Northern Arizona to Fort Mojave. Here is Blanche's account, in her own words, which are reflective of the attitudes prevalent in her father's pioneer time. The entire original letter is in the Sharlot Hall Museum Archives:
"Father and Captain William H. Hardy were building the first toll road ever built in Arizona. From time to time they would go out to look over the work being done and check the men's progress. This time father was riding a fine, recently acquired California mare. She was a beautiful, swift and highly nervous animal unused to Indians. Father said there had been no sign of Indians for some time so he felt it safe to go alone on an inspection trip. Suddenly, as he rode around a bluff, he found himself surrounded by war-painted Redmen out on one of their raids to kill and steal. The mare didn't like the looks of the warriors . She snorted, reared and plunged about in such fright that father had trouble staying on the saddle. One of the younger Indians, Charlie, father knew and had employed occasionally on his ranch. While the Indians closed in as near as the frightened mare would permit, father said: 'Hello Charlie. What are you doing here?' Charlie nodded toward the hills and answered: 'Big Hunt.' Of course father knew too well that he wasn't telling the truth, as the Indians were all decked-out in their hideous makeup of turkey feathers in their hair, faces painted black, red and yellow. Their quivers were packed full of new arrows and they were out on a 'Big Hunt' all right, a hunt for men and property and bent on destruction, they were on the war path!
"The Indians kept up a 'How! How! How!' with their hands up-stretched to shake hands. Father knew well enough that if one of them reached his hand that they would have finished him. He would have been jerked off the mare in a jiffy. Instead, he kept up a parley with them pretending to shake hands if his wild mount would allow. He waited until he reached the outer circle and plunged his spurs into the sides of his powerful horse and was off for the wide-open spaces to Fort Mojave. As he escaped the bloodthirsty enemies, he doffed his hat and waved an Adios and the chase began.
"It was uncertain how all this was going to turn out. Father had traveled over this road many times and felt sure he knew every gully and peak along the way. He soon found out he was in error. He gave the horse her head and urged her on with whip and spur.
"Ahead, he noticed curling smoke drifting skyward. Father knew then that the Apaches had burned the roadside cabin, the halfway house where the supplies were stored for the road gang. With this disheartening fact came the thought too of Ole, the loved and trusted Swede caretaker. Oh God! What about Ole? That question was soon answered as he rode into the roadside camp. Yes, the cabin and all the supplies were gone and most terrible of all was the dead, stripped body of Ole. The arrows had done their work. Saddened by the sight of Ole's dead body father knew he could do nothing for him and hurried on. At last the Fort came into sight-safety and rest for his noble mount. By the time he rode into the Fort the mare was a lather of white, dripping sweat and her sides heaved for breath. Father said he considered shooting at the pursuing Indians but was uncertain how the mare might react. He rode in the Fort and related his perilous ride. One thing that was difficult to understand was why the Indians hadn't put an arrow through him. He never figured that out.
"He would finish his story, 'Yes, I alone, chased the band of hostile Indians for many miles but you see-I took the lead!'
"During the closing years of father's life, I heard him often say that according to his knowledge he never killed an Indian. He fought them and shot in their direction to convince them he was armed. Of course, he said if he had to kill one or be killed, he would have in self-defense. A situation he never experienced. It was a joy to him I believe, that no man's blood ever stained his hand, not even a renegade Apache."
What really happened, Rufus' telling of it to his daughter, Blanche's recollections, and what Blanche wrote down could be four different narratives and a story in itself. We do know that Rufus Farrington went on to many other Arizona enterprises as a freighter, merchant, postmaster and nurseryman.
Ken Edwards is a volunteer tour guide at the Sharlot Hall Museum.
Sharlot Hall Museum Photograph Call Number: (po0290pf). Reuse only by permission.
Blanche Farrington Chapman recounted one of her father's favorite tales. This story not only shows "territorial life", but also how different things were viewed over time. From her father's account to her retelling, we can only wonder what really happened.