The Gristmill

I don't remember where I had read that Horace, Hagar and George had a little sister named Cherry Ann.  It had to be connected to someone's ancestor tree or some narrative.  I know it was not my imagination.  I read that the Griffin children were taken away from their mother and baby sister and had assumed that it was because they were moving to Texas with WSB Owens.  Then within a small span of time, I learned that the mother and subsequently the infant was traded for a gristmill.  I began to diligently comb through internet records of gristmills and unbeknown to me, there were quite a few gristmills in the 1800s.  If i could find the gristmill WSB owned, then we could find who we traded Mrs. Griffin and Cherry Ann to.  Unfortunately, things are never as easily done as my mind would wish.  

First is the barrier of the records.  As shocking as this is, not every document is on the internet.  I find, in fact, that most court documents post an index of their records, but you have to physically go in and locate the document, make a copy of such document in order to have access to it.  Also you have to pay for the document.  If you are just talking about 10 records at one dollar per copy, then no big deal, but if you are talking about 90 documents, then it starts hitting the ole pocket book.  If you are talking about records in your county, not so bad...about records in Escambia County, 733 miles away, it becomes a little more pricey.  

Secondly, slaves don't have birth records.  This also is my naivety showing, but I didn't know that the Deeds were where the established lineage may be traced, if your ancestors traded, bought inherited or sold slaves, and if they had a name written.  I found some like this: "and to my daughter charlotte, I leave my negro Crissy and any subsequent children she may have and the negro Lundy who works with the horses, also my kitchen pots and pans, the corner hutch and key, the old white mare and the ole grey mule that kicked Aunt Gussie in the jaw last Christmas." Ridiculous.  It was glaring reality into the past that the slaves were considered cattle.  I am not so blind or guarded that I had not heard this, but until you see the audacity of it in your own ancestors wills and deeds, it is easy to imagine that it only in extreme cases with horrible evil slave masters.  Slaves were an investment and an expense. They were property.  They were documented as such. 

Third, some slaves have no names listed.  This I cannot understand.  I saw a transaction where some poor beggar drew every cattle brand out that was to be listed in the transaction.  Twenty different brands meticulously drawn on a bill of sale.  Every horse with a brand.  You cannot tell me that the slaves were nameless.  It is just pure outrageousness that they would be listed as Negro one, two, three and big arms Joseph. The names too changed.  Sometimes the last name (if they took a last name) changed with the owners.  There were many times that I wished the Owens name was attached to each slave the Owens bought.   

I also wished that Gristmills were named for the past owners so that they too could be traced.  But there was no luck.  It wasn't until a few weeks ago that I learned it was possible that WSB didn't trade for a mill but for the use of it.  He owed money to the owner of the gristmill and in order to pay for his debt, WSB may have sold the mother and Cherry Ann to settle the debt.  I don't know if this was a straight trade for service or if he sold the slaves and paid the debt with monies.  I have heard of people hitting the 1870s wall, which is a wall of lacking information.  Slaves could not track back to their families, nor families track forward to their lost loved ones.  Horace could not track to Florida, where his mother may or may not be.  His mother could not trace where her three beautiful children went.  I could not find the gristmill.  I couldn't even begin to know where to look, Florida or Texas.  I could not find Cherry Ann.  

Late that night, I finally dozed off, with my laptop open to many tabs searched.  It was well into the early hours of the new day when I finally had hit my head against the wall of lacking information. I gave up.  I wasn't thinking logically. I slept.  I dreamed of Horace, a young man confused, holding his crying mother, her one arm holding her newborn, her other holding onto Horace.  Hagar gripping her skirts, and little George clutching at her legs.  I saw a harsh man pulling them off one by one and putting them in a cart to be driven off.  Horace's mother screaming, crying, begging.  I awoke with my heart pounding.  What mother would take such a wound, such a loss?  I would not, could not give up.  I would cross the barriers.  I will find such gristmill.  

A renewal of spirit and renewal of the search

I had to step back from the initial discouraging knowledge that my great great grandfather was dishonorable and that my dear friend Carolyn was correct.  My family secrets of indian fighters, confederate loyalists and murders were coming to light.  It was a blow, but to watch my father get discouraged about his family was disheartening.  A family that had been unknown to him but in only stories and a few photographs.  He assumed, as I did, that because our family was honorable collection of nurses, paramedics, military, business women, game wardens and police officers that the ancestors would also be honorable.

 I went to the one place that I seem to find peace and that is the Haby farm.  The territory is untouched except for the pathway of the combine and the slow waving fields of planted maize.  I love this country and breathe deeply the fresh air.  

They have an old german house on the property I refer to as the Haby Baby House because I heard that in the pioneer days, women from all over the settlement would come have their babies at this house.  I imagine it was because someone who lived there knew a thing or two about birthing babies.  It doesn't take my imagination much to drift back to pioneer days, when settlements were at risk of attack, kidnapping, murder, illness, and starvation.  I insert also the things that don't easily capture our bloodlust.  Simple things like the cooking, the quilts, the lovely old samplers I have seen.  The dances and the community.  I remember that there is good and bad in every family and good and bad in every person.  My sister reminds me that the one we feed is the one that grows.  
So I sat by the field and began to think again about the Griffin Children.  Specifically Horace, being the oldest and having more knowledge of the Owens. I thought about what happened after WSB escaped from Uvalde, Texas.  Did the Griffin family go with him?  Obviously, I needed to find a historical timeline.  At some point, they were free, right?  What year?   The Courthouse shooting occurred in March 18, 1865, that June 19, 1865 or as it is referred to now as Juneteenth (just three months later) Major General Granger landed in Galveston to alert Texas to the fact that the Slaves had been emancipated.  Something that Texas refused to acknowledge to their own slaves.  The Major General was there to insist that Texas would follow Union Laws and free their slaves.  What if they stayed?  What if the Griffin children stayed in Uvalde, Texas.  I could find their genealogy, their tombstones and birth certificates.  I could find their family....their mother.  My heart stopped.  Could I reunite this torn family.  This no longer became the search for my ancestors, but a search for redemption.  

My disenchantment of my ancestor

Honestly after learning the truth about the killing of the Sheriff and reading all of the posts on the Officer Down Memorial page, I barely wanted to continue.  It was in this moment I realized all of the scars that the Daughertys, the town of Uvalde and the Owens family held.  The only picture I have seen of WSB is a harsh one.  He looks like a hard cowboy who hadn't had anything descent to eat except a mouthful of dry Corn Dodgers.  I once read in a post of a fellow genealogist that said you cannot judge the historical facts with the current morality.  I cannot excuse the human suffering that I know he witnessed and   caused, because a human cannot see suffering or cause suffering without recognizing it for what it is.  A human cannot watch death, cause grief and treat people ill without their soul being affected.  I try to imagine the fear of thinking that Billie could be wrongly hanged in the courthouse.  Maybe he was trying to minimize the damage between Robert and Daugherty and hoping it would not affect Billie. I cannot know his heart.   

 http://www.odmp.org/officer/reflections/3817-sheriff-john-quincy-daugherty-sr 

The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that there was a family that was torn apart and I can help mend this in some small way. 

As I continue this journey following WSB Owens, I continue to hope for the best.  I recognize that he was a father who already lost sons, Joseph to a case of dropsy (tonsillitis) who is buried outside Helena, Texas , and one to a gun battle. He was an indian fighter, a settler of Florida Territory, fought in the Seminole Indian war.  He placed himself on Texas Ranger muster rolls and was elected Justice of the Peace.  He signed a petition to make Uvalde province a true Texas County and was a land and cattle owner.  

Our tapestry is interwoven with his gumption, his bravery, his strength and also his murderous ways and his disregard of the worth of land and his disrespect for humans. I truly find it difficult to celebrate him as a hero of Texas for all his wrongdoings color my opinion of him.  My father said, "you always hope and believe that your family is honorable."   I would like to believe that at one point in time he was.  

The Death of a Sheriff, John Quincy Daugherty

The story when I first read it, was like reading a newspaper article.  It left a great deal to the imagination and even the witnesses told different accounts.  The best version of understanding was the mixing of the stories.  William Swinton Bennett Owens and family (probably Robert Owens and WSB's sons) ran a general store in Uvalde, Texas.  Besides being elected Justice of the Peace in Uvalde County, WSB was a businessman, involved in freighters, a gristmill, ranching and cattle driving.  He had left his son in the store overnight to protect his investments.  It was known that Uvalde was a tough town and often drunkards would cause havoc in stores, breaking in and stealing merchandise.  When WSB went to open the store in the morning, he found his young son Billie, 19 years old, "abused and beaten"  (I took this to mean the full intent of the word).  Billie had recognized the culprit as Joseph Robinson among others, who  said Robinson had come in drunk.  That morning, William P Owens (Billie) found Joseph Robinson (probably recovering from a hangover) and during a gun battle, killed Robinson for the "abuse".  Billie was arrested by John Quincy Daughtery.  This is where the law becomes clouded with the feud between Daughterys and Owens. 

Some issue unknown to me had occurred between Robert Jackson Owens, son of WSB, and John Quincy Daugherty.  Mr. Daugherty had placed a lawsuit against said Owens.  While in the general store, Robert being a man "who loved his cups" (meaning he got drunk often) and was stumbling drunk during this conversation, said "Daugherty, I suppose you are going to sue me" and the reply was "Yes, I have already done it".  After an exchange of words, a fight broke out between the two and Robert drew a knife which Daugherty used to cut Robert Owens.  Thus, John Q Daugherty was charged with assault with intent to kill Robert J. Owens.  My personal opinion is that Robert, who we know to be a hardened Indian fighter, was probably in the wrong and knew it, and like a drunken idiot got cut with his own knife.  It must have taken immense self control not to kill Robert.  I had read somewhere that John Quincy was disillusioned with war and concerned with the poverty stricken who were forced into battles while the rich became richer off the widows and orphans.  I wondered after this knife fight if Mr. Daugherty had nightmares.  

Daugherty never went to trial for the attempted murder, because Robert was killed soon after they rescued a small girl from a kidnapping by a desperado.  

Uvalde Jail

Rear of Uvalde Jail

After learning of the store break in and the abuse, John Quincy Daugherty had arrested William P Owens (Billie) for the murder of Robinson.  The Owens gang, which consisted of Wylie Dodd, Balis and Robert Bates, Thomas and James Cooke, John Wilburn and a negro of George Griffin (owned by WSB Owens) came riding into Uvalde "drunk and cursing and shooting" up to the courthouse.  John Quincy Daugherty walked out onto the porch of the courthouse (some say the second floor balcony) to confront the mob.  WSB called out to the Sheriff "I have come for my boy".  Who knows what was said.  The accounts are different saying as soon as he stepped out he was shot. Some say he said "let the law take its course".  Regardless, he was flipped over the porch railing with a bullet in his head.  All sounds exciting and rowdy and I believe myself to be somewhat desensitized to the events at first (probably due to my love of western movies).

 Members of the town militia were inside guarding the prisoner and all hell broke loose.  The gang hid behind trees and in shops doors and opened fire on the militia.  It was witnessed that some dove out of the windows and headed from safety.  Billie Owens escaped the lawmen and rejoined his family, and forever set a wave of catastrophe and shame that followed the Owens family.  

Sarah Pickett Daugherty

I think about how Sarah Pickett Daugherty was told..or did she see?  Was she sitting at the ranch just across from the Owens ranch? 

Was she in town for the trial against Billie Owens? She was pregnant with her fourth son and was caring for three young boys, a 10 year old, an 8 year old, a five year old and a three year old little girl.  Her two sisters lived with her as well.  I can only imagine her sorrow, the town's shock and the children's grief.  

A few months later, Sarah buried her sweet little daughter Louisa, next to her husband.  Within that one year, Sarah had lost her parents, her husband and a daughter.  She birthed her son without his father, a living legacy he would never know.  It stays with me as I hope it did Billie Owens and WSB.  

James, Thomas, John Q. Jr., William and Mother Sarah (Picket) Daugherty in center

In 1902, Sarah Pickett Daugherty moved to Alpine, Texas to be with her son.  But, when she died, she was buried in Uvalde next to where I believe her love was, next to her husband and daughter.  

Who was John Quincy Daugherty, Sr.

I am confused by the term carpetbagger and the use of it to describe John Quincy Daugherty.  A carpetbagger, for all readers who had this term eradicated from their education, was a Northerner that came to the south (especially during the Reconstruction Era) to profit from the weak political system. It was derogatory word used to describe a vulture like relationship with the southern population.  
It also included those who were loyal to the union appointed into political or legal positions.  Which is fabulous for the Appointed ones, but for those who were established and had been digging in the dirt and defending themselves from cattle rustlers, indian attacks and diseases, I can imagine the pioneers saw the appointed sheriff's and deputies like an oppressive outsider.  

I wanted to know the damage done by the killing of this lawman. The truth.  So I began to research John Quincy Daugherty and came up with important documents.   First the application from Sarah Daugherty for her husband's civil war pension. 

From this document, I can tell that John Quincy Daugherty was a member of the First Texas Calvary (Arizona Brigade....they were originally called the Arizona Brigade because they were formed to help the war efforts in Arizona, but never sat foot in Arizona).  1st Battalion had some controversial moments (like getting the local indian together for "peace talks" and then slaughtering the adults in their drunken state and selling the children into slavery), and some were known for dragging out German men who were for the Union and hanging them (supported by Quattrails men and the  Die Haengebande or hanging band), but my guess is John Quincy Daugherty fought in the horrible battles of  Poison Springs (April 18, 1864) (where hundreds black ex-slaves fighting for the Union were slaughtered, scalped and mutilated), Massard’s Prairie (July 27, 1864) and Cabin Creek (September 19, 1864) among many other skirmishes along the Texas and New Mexico areas.  

 
He had married Sarah Ann when she they were both 22 years old.  
He fought for the Confederacy.  So that, in my opinion, makes him the least likeliest carpetbagger.  Perhaps he was seen as an interloper.  He had purchased land on the Leona, across from the Owens.  I read somewhere that their were tensions between the Daughertys and the Owens. I find this to be amazing.  When did anyone have time to hate anyone, with scratching their next meal out of the dirt and fighting Indians?  
I recently found a picture of him, but I try not to judge the old photos too harshly.  I know if I was to sit still for over 2 minutes, I would look terribly pinch-faced.  I imagine him to be a fierce fighter, tolerant of little nonsense.  I also can imagine the horror of war he was exposed to and the post traumatic syndrome he suffered.  His murder left his wife and five children, one who was not born yet.  

The shooting of a sheriff

So the original story that the family seems most interested in (and to be honest, set this search on the path) was the shooting of the Sheriff.  I actually was fascinated by this story, it being white washed by the Owens version that was handed down and joined a tapestry of my imagination fueled by every western I had seen.  Unfortunately, I am finding that this was the story the Owens was infamous for.  I recently purchased a novel The Outlaw Tales of Texas: True stories of the Lone Star States of Crooks,  Culprits and Cutthroats, which described my family as the "Owens gang" or the "Bad Owens Gang".  Even knowing that the history has been frowned upon greatly by society, I cannot merge that image with my dear father, who is a gentle soul.  Regardless, here is the story.
This was an ideal atmosphere for hostilities to erupt and erupt they did, between the Owens family and another man.Though it will likely never be known exactly what happened, why, or even to whom, as there are conflicting and confusing stories, a gunfight took place in which one John Q. Daugherty was killed. Though W.S.B. and others were indicted for murder by a grand jury the case never was brought to trial. Shortly thereafter W.S.B. moved to a more peaceful and hospitable Hays County purchased land and settled on the Blanco River, on the old Bastrop Road, where he and Arena spent the remainder of their lives.
Further note: Robert J.Crunk (Florida Owens son): "A friend of the family got drunk one night and went to a store owned by a family member. A son (John?) was asleep in the store and the man abused him. The next day when WSB went to find out what had happened the man drew on him and WSB killed him. When WSB went up the street to turn himself in, the sheriff--a carpetbagger--shot him. In turn WSB and the boy both drew and shot at the same time. The sheriff and a deputy were standing on the courthouse steps at the time. The sheriff was supposed to have previously been a friend!'
As one would guess, the shooting seems to have been justified.  My daddy said, "I always thought the sheriff was corrupt".  Perhaps he was, perhaps they all were.

The Owens Migration

The Victoria Advocate, a Texas newspaper in the mid 1800's, had printed a brief announcement for the community of Goliad, Texas and surrounding area.  It was really amazing when you think about moving thirty-nine members of your family at once.  We currently have issues of getting five of us together.  But the announcement created many questions:
1.  Why the devil would you leave Florida for Texas?
2.  Why move an entire family?
3.  Was there a plan?
4. Who traveled?  and How did they travel?

I then found a narrative that stated the Owens family came on the USS Gov. Bennet from Florida (assuming Pensacola) to Indianola (a popular landing for Texas) and then Goliad . All 38 and in a ship.  I also assumed they did not count the slaves on this family emigration.