The death of Chief Peta Nocona

In the annals of Texas history, few stories encapsulate the brutal clash between settlers and Indian tribes as vividly as the Battle of Pease River in December 1860. At its center lies the disputed fate of Chief Peta Nocona, a formidable Comanche leader and father to Quanah Parker, one of the last great chiefs of the Comanche nation. 

Quanah Parker, in later years, staunchly maintained that his father was not slain in the heat of that skirmish but passed away peacefully shortly after the capture of his wife, Cynthia Ann Parker. Yet, accounts from the time, including a 1904 article by Colonel Tom Padgitt published in the Dallas News, paint a dramatic picture of Nocona's demise at the hands of Texas Rangers led by a young Lawrence Sullivan "Sul" Ross. 

This narrative, drawn from Padgitt's recollections, offers a gripping firsthand perspective on the events, highlighting the raw intensity of frontier warfare while underscoring the enduring controversy surrounding Nocona's death. 

To understand the significance of this encounter, one must delve into the background of the key figures involved. Cynthia Ann Parker, born around 1827 in Illinois, was just nine years old when Comanche, Kiowa, and Caddo warriors raided Parker's Fort in Limestone County, Texas, on May 19, 1836. 

The attack, known as the Fort Parker Massacre, resulted in the deaths of several settlers and the abduction of Cynthia Ann and four others. Over the next two decades, she assimilated into Comanche life, adopting their customs and language. She married Peta Nocona, a prominent chief of the Noconi band—named after the Comanche word for "wanderers.” She bore him three children: sons Quanah (born around 1845) and Pecos (born around 1858), and daughter Topsana, or Prairie Flower (born around 1859). 

Nocona, described in various accounts as a towering and fearsome warrior, led his people in raids across the Texas frontier, embodying the Comanche reputation as masterful horsemen and raiders who dominated the Southern Plains. 

By 1860, tensions between settlers and Native tribes had escalated amid the rapid expansion of Texas ranches and farms. In December of that year, a band of Comanche, allegedly under Nocona's command, launched a daring raid through North and Central Texas. 

They committed depredations, including thefts and killings. They made off with approximately 400 head of horses, a valuable commodity on the frontier. Governor Sam Houston, in his final term before Texas seceded from the Union, responded swiftly. He commissioned Lawrence Sullivan “Sul” Ross, a 22-year-old former student at Florence Wesleyan University in Alabama who was home on vacation, to assemble a force and pursue the raiders. Ross, already showing promise as a leader, gathered a mixed company: about 20 white Texas Rangers and an equal number of friendly Tonkawa Indians, known for their scouting skills and enmity toward the Comanche.

The pursuit was arduous, spanning seven grueling days across rugged terrain. Ross's guide, an experienced Tonkawa named Placido (often rendered as Placadore), led the way. The trail grew faint at times, testing the group's resolve. 

On the sixth day, Ross confronted Placido, suspecting treachery as no fresh signs had appeared for days. The guide requested a brief camp to scout ahead. True to his word, he returned within hours, leading the party to a mountain vantage where fresh pony tracks confirmed Comanche proximity. They were now on the headwaters of the Pease River, far from any settlements, in what is today Foard County, Texas. 

The Comanche, believing themselves safe after their successful raid, were heading toward their winter camps in the Wichita Mountains of present-day Oklahoma. 

Dawn broke on the seventh day, Dec. 19, with Ross's men mounted and ready. Riding up a gulch in the river valley, Ross and Placido advanced to scout. The guide assured Ross the trail was fresh, made mere hours before. Peering over a ridge between first light and sunrise, they spotted the Comanche camp in the distance, a small encampment of perhaps a dozen tepees, with warriors, women, and children preparing to move. 

Ross sent Placido back to summon the company, then lay prone in the grass, armed with only a single six-shooter, observing from just a few hundred yards away. His heart raced when a mounted Comanche warrior galloped toward him, but the rider dismounted briefly to search the ground, perhaps for a lost item, before returning to camp, oblivious to the lurking danger.

When his men arrived, Ross issued clear orders: fight to kill, recapture the stolen horses grazing in the valley below, and each man should target an individual opponent. 

The charge was swift and devastating, the Rangers descending like a whirlwind over the hill. Some of the warriors were already mounted and ready to depart; others scrambled onto horses amid the chaos. Women fled in panic, but the surprise attack left little room for organized resistance. The Comanche attempted to escape, but Ross's force pressed relentlessly.

In Part Two, in next week’s paper, when Sul’ Ross himself, will single out two riders on one horse, close in, and fire his pistol. It will take a second shot to bring down the front rider, who Ross later identifies as Chief Peta Nocona.