Ellen Aurelia Allred Nielsen

Story written by Ellen Aurelia Allred Nielsen daughter of James T. S. Allred and Eliza Bridget Mainwaring.  Ellen was born 13 January 1850 and died 28 August 1929.

The story is reproduced just as the original.

Kind friends, having been requested by the officials of Spring City to recite some of my experiences as a daughter of a pioneer and wife of a veteran of the Indian wars, I shall comply gladly with their request.

My father James T.S. Allred was a member of the Mormon Battalion.  He came to Utah after his discharge and arrived in Salt Lake City in the year 1847 just a few days after the entrance of the pioneers of July 24.  He was among the first settlers of Manti.  His family lived in a dugout on the south of temple hill.  There I was born in the year 1850.

In 1852 Father was called to assist in making a settlement about 17 miles north of Manti.  He was one of the founders of Spring City.  We remained in our new home for one year when because of trouble with the Indians we returned to Manti in 1854.  Another call came.  This time Father was requested to form a settlement where Ephraim is now located.  This request was complied with and our family was numbered with the first families of Ephraim.  So we came very nearly being among the famous first families of ? (verment)?.  In 1857, in response to a call from Pres. Young we moved to Las Vegas, Nevada.  In a little over a year we returned to Ft. Ephraim.  Here we remained until called to help settle Circle Valley.  It was while living there that I was married to Mads Nielsen.  We were annoyed considerably by the Indians.  Our experience I will relate which happened while we lived there.  In the fall of 1865 with a company of friends we made a trip to Salt Lake City.  We took with us a load of grain with which to purchase household supplies.  Everything went well on our journey to the city.  When we reached Manti on our return home my mother who was with us, was taken very ill and had to be left there.  Her little two year old boy we took with us in our wagon.

At Monroe in Sevier County my sister and husband who were traveling with us, left us and started home each having a team of our own.  With us was an old gentleman named Floyd.  He had purchased a pair of steers and was driving them to his home in Castle Valley.  On the night of Nov. 25, we camped with a relative at Marysvale.  That night my husband was uneasy and restless and slept but little although he knew no reason for the same.  In the morning my uncle with whom we had spent the night, tried to persuade us to remain with them that day be we decided to go home, and so started on our journey.  My uncle told us afterwards that he felt so uneasy after we had left that he came very nearly following us to get us to return.  When we were within ten or eleven miles of our home we drove around and passed the other team, which was driven by my brother-in-law.  We were so near home we thought there was no danger.  We were about three miles from town when we saw as we drove around the front of a hill a herd of cattle being driven towards the north of the canyon.  I was very much frightened as soon as I saw them, for fear it might be Indians driving the stock.  I begged my husband to turn back but he said the Indians had seen us, and that by driving fast that we might reach a company of men who were in pursuit of the Indians.  In a few minutes the Indians left the stock and with a yell started towards us.  Our horses were very tired, but we urged them on thinking that we might reach a swamp about three fourths of a mile away, but we did not succeed.  The Indians came up and we were going to shoot up his band but we frightened him off a way by pointing an old revolver at him.  I suppose I am safe now in telling that the revolver was an old broken one but we did not tell the Indians.

Mister Redskin now turned and shot our best horse, which of course stopped the team.  At the request of my husband I with my brother in my arms jumped from the wagon.  The Indian was reloading his gun.  There were willows along the road but were low and did not afford much protection.  The Indian again mounted his horse and rode around trying to get a chance to shoot my husband.  At this I jumped into a slough that was near.  The water was up to my neck but I preferred drowning to being captured by the Indians.  My husband again pointed the revolver at the Indian and again he turned back.  My husband then took my brother who I was holding and up out of the water and I jumped out of the slough.  We walked down to try to cross the swamp at another point but were headed off by 10 Indians.  So we got in the water again.  The little boy began to cry because the water was so cold and we left the slough again.  I sat down behind a bunch of willows.  Taking the child in my lap and my husband stood over us to give what protection he could.  The Indians did not follow us into the willows but turned their attention to the wagon.  They cut the harness from the dead horse leaving the collar.  They took the wagon cover off and emptied all the flour on the ground, cut the feather bed tick and scattered the feathers all around, threw the dishes out of the wagon breaking all but one plate which I still have at home.  They took all of our clothing.  While they were destroying the things in the wagon the old gentleman Floyd who was traveling with us arrived at the top of the hill and saw the Indians.  He might have escaped alright if he had gone back himself at once; but he ran around his steers to drive them back and the Indians saw him and followed him into the hills a mile and killed him.  Just before my sister and her husband reached the ridge they were met by two men who had been sent out to guard the cattle.  These men said while they were sitting in a bunch of willows eating their dinner the Indians came out of the canyon and seated themselves and held a council close to them.  One of the men had a dog with him and he sat and held the dogs mouth to prevent him from making a noise and so they escaped being discovered.  These men informed my brother-in-law that the Indians had made a raid on the settlement.  As they traveled on through the hills my sister and husband found the body of old Mr. Floyd whom the Indians had killed.  When they reached the top of the hill they could see our wagon and the wounded horse lying by it.  They thought we had been killed.  We were hidden in the willows and could hear my sister crying.  My husband wandered out where he could see them and as he saw four persons he thought they were Indians and we dared not come out to them.  It was getting dark and we had been there since 2 o’clock in the afternoon.  We got out of the willows and started for the settlement.  By another route we reached our home about an hour after the others had arrived.  It was late in the evening we were both bare headed and my clothes were frozen stiff.  My brother had gone to sleep.  We entered the house.  It was full of people who had gathered because of the report that we had been killed.  It is needless to say that our meeting was a happy one.

We were left almost destitute as the Indians had destroyed what few things we had.  For a bed we borrowed a wagon and filled it with straw, and all we had for a bed was one quilt which we were fortunate to borrow.  This served us during the winter of 1865 and 1866.  In the spring of ‘68 the people were called to leave their homes and their grains which was up and growing nicely and return to Sanpete.  This we did.  After our return my husband did duty with the other settlers in defending our homes against the Indians.  Settling here in Ephraim during the season of 1867 as one of the minute men under Capt. Lewis Larsen.  We moved to Spring City again in 1868 where we have lived since and where my husband died in the spring of 1899.  

The following is a newspaper account of the journey to Salt Lake as told by Ellen Allred Nielsen:

The journey had been a long but happy one for young Mads Nielsen and his pretty wife.  They had seen the wonderful things going on in Salt Lake City - the new tabernacle that was being built, the walls of the great temple, the performances in the magnificent Salt Lake Theater, the stores.

Most wonderful of all had been the simple ceremony in the Endowment House sealing them together for time and eternity.

On the way to and from the city, they had visited with friends and former neighbors in Sanpete County.

Now in just a few hours, they would be back in their own little cabin in Circleville.  Mads gave the reins a flip and glanced back at the slow-moving ox-drawn wagon behind him.  On it were his brother-in-law, Jens Mogensen and his wife.  Up ahead was Brother Floyd on foot driving a pair of steers up over the hill.  The sun was warm even though it was late November in the year 1865.

They had heard of the troubles stirred up in Sanpete and Sevier counties by Black Hawk and his minions.  Mads had his pistol in his belt just in case but felt safer now that he was just seven miles from home.

He would have felt differently had he known that Black Hawk and his warriors had entered Circle Valley that very morning.  They had killed three boys herding stock near the settlement, and just over the brow of the hill ahead, a dozen of them were stripping the dead body of Brother Floyd.  

At that moment, Mads saw a party of the Indians about three miles away driving the Circleville stock toward the canyon.  He stopped to consult with the Mogensens as to whether they should hide or try to go on.  They decided to go on.  Mads urged his team to greater speed, leaving the second wagon behind as he rounded the hill.  The Indians on the hill saw the wagon and gave chase.  Mads whipped his horses and told his wife and her 3 year-old brother to hide under the feather bed in the wagon box.