Nancy Saphrona Huff was the daughter of Peter and Saleta Brown, and was
4 years old at the time of the Massacre. She was the only member of her
family to survive. The photograph was taken at the time of her marriage
to George Mifflin Dallas Cate on 13 January 1869 in Meigs County,
Tennessee.
"I am the daughter of Peter Huff; my
mother’s maiden name was Salidia (sic) Brown, daughter of Alexander Brown of
Tennessee. I was born in Benton County, Arkansas, in 1853. My father
started to move from that county in the spring of 1857, with the ill
fated train bound for California. I was then a little past four years
old. I can recollect my father and mother very well, as (well as) many
little incidents that occurred about that time—our travels on the road,
etc. I recollect passing through Salt Lake City, and passing through
other places, and I recollect we were in a small prairie. One morning
before day I was woke up by the firing of guns, and learned that our
camp had been attacked, we supposed, by Indians. Some of the men folk
were wounded. The men dug a ditch around our camp, and fortified the
best they could. The women and children got in the ditches, and were
comparitively (sic) out of danger.
The fighting went on at intervals for six
days, when failing to drive our men from their fortifications, the
attacking party went off. Soon afterward a party that we thought to be
friends came up with a white flag, and said that they could protect us.
They said they were our friends, and if we would come out and leave what
we had they would take us to Cedar City, where we would be safe, and
that they would protect us, and see that none of us were hurt. Our
people agreed to this, and all started out, men, women and children, and
left everything we had behind. When we had got out a short distance from
the wagons, where we had been fortified, we came to a place where tall
sage brush was growing on both sides of the road, and as we were passing
through this place we found we were trapped, as men had hid in it, and
began to shoot among us, and then rushed upon our people from both
sides, killing everybody they came to. Capt. Baker had me in his arms
when he was shot down, and fell dead. I saw my mother shot in the
forehead and fall dead. The women and children screamed and clung
together. Some of the young women begged the assassins after they had
run out on us not to kill them, but they had no mercy on them, clubbing
(them with) their guns and beating out their brains.
Some of the murderers were white men and
some I supposed were Indians from their dress. At the close of the
massacre there was eighteen children still alive, one girl, some ten or
twelve years old, they said was too big and could tell, so they killed
her, leaving seventeen. A man, I afterwards learned to be named John
Willis, took me in his charge (the children were divided) and carried me
to his house next day in a wagon; he lived at Cedar City and was a
Mormon; he kept me there that winter. Next spring he moved to a place
called Topersville (Toquerville). I stayed there about a year, until Dr.
Forney had us children gathered up and carried us to Santa Clara, from
there we went to Salt Lake City and remained two months, from there we
came back to the states. I know that most of the party that did the
killing were white men. The Mormons got all the plunder. I saw many
things afterward.
John Willis had, in his family, bed
clothes, clothing, and many other things that I recognized as having
belonged to my mother. When I claimed the things, they told me I was a
liar, and tried to make me believe it was the Indians that killed and
plundered our people, but I knew better, because I recollected seeing
them kill our folks, and knew many things that they carried off that I
saw in their possession afterward. I saw Willis during the massacre; he
carried me off from the spot; I could not be mistaken. Living with him
made me know him beyond a doubt. I saw them shoot the girl after we were
gathered up. I had a sister that was nearly grown, and four brothers
that they killed. I was the youngest child of our family—the only one
that was spared. They kept the children all separated whilst we remained
with them. The scenes and incidents of the massacre were so terrible
that they were indelibly stamped on my mind, notwithstanding I was so
young at the time."
(“The
Mountain Meadow Massacre: Statement of one of the Few Survivors,”
Daily Arkansas Gazette, 1 September 1875)
