Bartee Haile: The desperate search of Britt Johnson

Surrounded by a raiding party of Kiowas, Texas’ most respected African-American and three other Black teamsters had no choice but to stand and fight on Jan. 27, 1871.

Because he was born a slave, next to nothing is known about the early life of Britton Johnson. He was probably in his teens, when his owner Moses Johnson brought him to Texas from Tennessee in the late 1850s.

Upon Johnson’s death, his son Allan inherited Britt and the rest of his father’s slaves. Since he hated the very idea of possessing another human being like a piece of property, Allan Johnson gave Britt all the freedom the law allowed in those pre-emancipation days. He worked for wages as foreman of the Johnson ranch and raised his own horses and cattle in his off hours.

In the fall of 1864, Britt, his wife, Mary, and their three children were living with Elizabeth Fitzpatrick, her grown daughter Milly and three grandchildren. Located a short distance from Fort Belknap in Young County, the multi-family dwelling was thought to be safe from the Indian attacks that plagued the Northwest Texas frontier.

Britt and Milly’s husband were away from home on Oct. 13, 1864, the fateful day 500 Comanches and Kiowas stormed out of their sanctuary in Indian Territory and swooped down on isolated settlers. Reacting to reports of the incursion, the Fort Belknap cavalry and every male civilian for miles around mobilized to meet the threat leaving their womenfolk and young’uns at the mercy of the marauders.

Like so many others, the Johnsons and Fitzpatricks never had a chance. Milly reached for a shotgun but that only outraged the intruders.

Britt Johnson’s oldest child, a boy in his teens, also paid for his resistance with his life.

After stripping the house of everything worth taking, the raiders lashed the survivors to the backs of their horses and rode off at top speed. The list of captives included Mary Johnson clinging to her two living children and Elizabeth Fitzpatrick with a son and two granddaughters.

Britt Johnson returned home before dark to the horrific aftermath of the attack. He buried the dead but instead of putting it all behind him, as some people would have done, he began to make plans for an epic search.

Friends, neighbors and even strangers donated what they could to the cause. No one, however, volunteered to go with him into Comanche country. No one, that is, until a white man named White came forward to suggest they join forces. He had been hunting his son since the lad had fallen into the raiders’ clutches that summer.

Britt spoke enough Comanche to make himself understood, which may explain why some of the Indians they encountered opened up to him. In the spring of 1865, a helpful Comanche told him about a council of Plains tribes where captives would be bought and sold. It was there that White spotted his son and ransomed his freedom with several horses.

Alone but undaunted, Britt pressed on with his perilous quest. On three solo trips into the Comancheria, he found not a single clue as to the whereabouts of his missing kin.

Britt’s persistence was finally rewarded at a council in the summer of 1865. A cooperative chief, who wanted to improve relations with the settlers, helped him purchase safe passage for his wife, two youngest children and a baby born to Mary during her ordeal.

The liberation of Elizabeth Fitzpatrick came a few months later thanks to the efforts of an Indian agent intent on bringing back every captive. Fitzpatrick later said she “thought (her rescuers) with their white faces and blue uniforms must be from another world.”

For years her remaining granddaughter was presumed dead. When identified on a reservation, Millie had no memory of her childhood and considered herself a full-blooded Comanche with unusually pale skin.

Millie’s story created such a sensation in Texas that the governor took the time to visit her. Speaking through an interpreter, he asked what he could do for her. Her reply was short and to the point: “Nothing.”

Millie lived until 1934 a contented Comanche to her dying day.

Britt Johnson resettled his reunited family in Parker County and went into business for himself hauling freight. On that winter day in 1871 not far from Graham, he and his three employees were caught out in the open by a band of Kiowas, who in contrast to the Comanches, would not let him be.

Judging from the 200 empty shells within reach of his body, Britt fought on long after his companions were killed. The same riders, who had watched the battle from a safe distance, interred the foursome in a common grave.

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