Preston B. Plumb
Welcome to the home of The Forgotten Senator, a biography of Kansas Senator Preston B. Plumb! Check out the links above for a brief description of his life, information about the author, and to purchase a signed copy. For wholesale requests, the book is available through Ingram and through the author directly at an additional discount. Please visit our Wholesale page for more information HERE.
This book tells his life through stories of those who knew him, his own words in letters and articles, and many unpublished photographs. Visit the Biography page to read a short amount about his incredible life, but it can scarcely do justice to him in that limited space. The story below that occurred between 1858 and 1861 is just one of many that is featured in the book!
Statement from Addison Gilbert Procter
“We [Procter and Preston Plumb] spent a day at Lawrence, a few days at Leavenworth among the merchants, rode down the river road to Wyandotte, crossed by steam ferry to Kansas City, spent some days there loading wagons with flour and groceries, and with three days resting of our horses we were off for home. We decided not to follow the Santa Fe trail to Burlingame, but to cut across country into the Neosho valley, via Osage Agency and the valley towns. We left Westport early on an October morning, intending to reach the Agency that evening. We knew it was a long ride, and we let the horses jog along in their own way. We hardly met a man or saw a house all that day, but kept going on a grassy trail toward the south-west.
Night closed down on us with nothing in sight but the stars and the dim trail through the grass. We jogged along with horses tired and ourselves hungry. We knew we must be somewhere in the region of the Agency, but had no means of knowing how near. Along in the evening we came to a river. We found our way down the path to the rippling current, crossed by starlight where the ripples showed white, but when we reached the other side the overhanging trees completely blotted out our path and search as we did, leading our tired horses up and down that narrow shelf between the water and the steep bank it was nearly midnight before we discovered a narrow footpath leading up the bank. We struggled up this steep way, fairly dragging the horses after us, and mounted in the opening on the level river bank above. It was just light enough by the stars to push our way along through the open wooded section.
As we were slowly feeling our way along, all of a sudden we found ponies all about us feeding, and in a few moments the flickering light of smoldering camp fires appeared in every direction, and all about us, seeming to cover the ground, moved the forms of sleeping Indians, tossing and twisting about. We were right in the midst of an Indian camp. Before we could hardly think, all about us the Indians were jumping to their feet and in the confusion uttering all sorts of guttural, both loud and deep. We instantly realized our danger. “Put spurs to the horse and rush out!” says Plumb. Instantly the two horses responded with a jump and a dash, my horse ahead. The Indians gave a most unearthly yell and whoop that fairly lifted the horses from their feet as they plunged headlong through the trees, we clinging close, with heads low to escape the branches. Dashing through an opening in the woods with the crowd of wild, yelling Indians close on our path, we came to a ravine, down which we dashed, the Indians running close to us and yelling at every jump. As we struck the other side of the ravine an Indian running ahead of his gang caught Plumb by the ankle and attempted to throw him from his horse. Plumb carried a short riding whip, with a heavy leaded handle. He instantly turned and struck the Indian a solid blow square in the face with that heavy handle. The Indian gave a yell and fell to the ground, losing his hold on the stirrup strap.
It was now getting desperate. A halt would mean instant death, for the Indians close behind us were wild with excitement, evidently taking us for a pair of horse thieves. As we rushed ahead with horses quivering from excitement, and exertion, all of a sudden we came to a road, just the road we had been hunting for since coming to the river. Down this road the horses swept with new life, seeming to realize their good fortune. As we sped along the Indians gradually fell further behind and their yelling ceased to startle us, but the horses kept bravely on, when suddenly just before us a big cluster of buildings loomed up in the starlight. We rode at full speed direct to the main building, which stood some hundred feet or more from the road. A high fence was before us with no open gate. Up we rode, threw our bridles over the projecting rail, leaped over the fence and made a run for the house. A partly open door showed a dull fire in the big fireplace. We made a rush, pushed open the door and shouted. Startled men, sleeping on cots and on the floor instantly sprang to their feet, and the clicking of revolvers suggested that we had run from one danger into another. Plumb knew the Agent, and shouted his name. In the midst of the confusion a lamp was lighted, and we were able to make the situation understood, though for some moments in the dark it looked desparate [desperate], for every man was reaching for his gun.
There was a scrambling to get into clothes and a wild hurry to be ready in case the Indians should follow to the Agency in their excited condition. Two of the Agency men rushed out and secured our horses, getting them inside the corral and throwing them down some hay, and hurried back. We heard the wild shouting way down the road and waited all armed for trouble, but the Indians never came.
We lay for the rest of the night on the floor, more dead than alive from our awful fatigue and fright. The Agent said in the morning that it was a close call; that the Indians in that crowd were a bad lot, just in from a buffalo hunt and many of them had been drinking and were very dangerous.
And that is how near we came to meeting the fate of two horse thieves. It gave us all the Indian experience we cared to have.”