I then called to the captain that it was squaws, and he replied “Don’t kill the squaws.” I said – it is too late, I am afraid they are already killed.
On 12 February, Secretary Proctor’s exoneration of Colonel Forsyth and the 7th Cavalry Regiment appeared in newspapers across the country, along with his statement, “The bodies of an Indian woman and three children who had been shot down three miles from Wounded Knee were found some days after the battle…” the secretary of war continued, “Necessary orders will be given to insure a thorough investigation of the transaction and the prompt punishment of the criminals.” That same day the three enlisted soldiers of Captain Edward S. Godfrey’s D troop, who were involved in the killing to which the secretary of war referred, provided depositions to a notary public in Geary County, Kansas, detailing their role in the incident.
Major Peter Dumont Vroom, Inspector General for the Department of the Missouri, was assigned to investigate the tragedy at White Horse Creek. Vroom was forty-eight years old and had served as a company grade officer for twenty-two years in the 3rd Cavalry before being promoted to the the rank of major in the Inspector General’s Department in 1888. He began his investigation with an interview with Captain Godfrey on 17 March 1891 and next turned his focus toward the soldiers involved in the shooting. Vroom’s time in the 3rd Cavalry would bode well for one of the soldiers who was also a veteran of the 3rd.
Herman Gunther, a native of Baden, Germany, was an experienced forty-five-year-old cavalryman and the senior non-commissioned officer of Captain Godfrey’s D troop. He initially entered the army in 1868 as a young twenty-two-year-old jeweler from New York City. He served for fifteen years in C troop, 3rd Cavalry Regiment, and was discharged from that unit in November 1883 at Fort Thomas, Arizona Territory, having risen to the rank of first sergeant. After six months working as a butcher in St. Louis, Gunther signed up for his fourth five-year enlistment and was assigned to the 7th Cavalry’s D troop. Rising again to first sergeant of his unit by the time D troop arrived at Wounded Knee, First Sergeant Gunther along with Captain Godfrey, ensured that D troop was ably led by two veteran cavalrymen, both with more than two decades in the saddle.
First Sergeant Gunther provided the following deposition on 12 February regarding his role at White Horse Creek, certainly as a result of the secretary of war’s call for an investigation.
That on the 29th day of Dec., 1890, he accompanied Capt. Godfrey, just about the close of the battle of Wounded Knee, on a search up a ravine near the scene of that battle, for a party of about fifteen Indians. That these Indians were several times seen to be in the bottom dodging around thro’ the brush. That the head of the ravine was reached and a high hill ascended where a halt was made and the country surveyed with field glasses in search of Indians, but without success. The party then started back down the ravine again and having gone some distance he noticed some Indians, not more than fifty yards away, dodging into the brush. He quickly called to the captin [sic], who was riding in front and had not seen the Indians, “There are some Indians, captain, we are right on the top of them, look out.” The captain then dismounted a lot of them and sending a party on each side of the ravine and one behind to watch the rear he sent me with two or three men down into the ravine to hunt the Indians I had seen who had hid in the brush. As soon as I told the captain I had seen Indians down in the brush and before the firing, he called out loudly two or three times, “How Kolah,” but did not receive any reply.
We then advanced, Private Kern a little ahead of me and Private Settle behind. Private Kern suddenly halted and fired and just at that moment I could indistinctly see through the brush the faint outlines of a person and raising my gun I quickly fired. We supposed we were hunting the party of Indians we had seen and were ready to fire at a flash as we did not propose to let any Indian get the first shot at us if we could help it. Immediately I fired, Kern fired a second time and I heard squealing in the brush. I then called to the captain that it was squaws, and he replied “Don’t kill the squaws.” I said – it is too late, I am afraid they are already killed.
To the best of my belief the bullet I fired killed the one I shot at and wounded the one that did the crying.
No more shots were then fired and the captain coming up told us to go on down the ravine and he again began to call out “How Kolah.”
All of this happened in a very short space of time, under excitement, in only a few moments, because we supposed, seeing we had found some of the squaws, the rest, the bucks would be found right close by.
We did not stop, but went immediately on down the ravine, hunting for the rest. Finding none, we came back finally to the lead horses, and there the captain told me that a woman, a boy and two children had been killed in there.
Private Settle did not fire at all. I fired once and Private Kern twice. There was not another shot fired by us and none of us were ever closer to these Indians than 25 yards, which was the distance we were away, about, when we fired.
During his investigation in March 1891, Inspector General Vroom recorded the following statement from First Sergeant Gunther at Fort Riley.
Captain Godfrey with one platoon was following a party of Indians that got away from the battle-field and went up a deep ravine leading toward the hills. We were trying to cut them off. The Indians were seen several times by us, but always in such a way that we could not get at them. I should judge that there were about fifteen Indians in that party. When we got to the head of the ravine, we halted. Captain Godfrey and myself then examined the country around closely with field glasses, but were unable to see any signs of the Indians. After staying there quite a while Captain Godfrey started back with the platoon. Just as we were coming around a bend in the road leading down into the bottom, I saw some Indians dodging into the brush. My impression at the time was that we were on to the party of Indians that we had been following up. I called Captain Godfrey’s attention to it, saying to look out as we were right on top of them. The Captain ordered myself and several men to dismount and move forward. At the same time the Captain sung out “How Colah.” In moving ahead Private Kern, who was off his horse quicker than I was, got ahead of me a few paces. I noticed Private Kern raise his carbine and on looking in that direction I saw Indians that were hiding in the bottom of a dry creek. I was unable to distinguish what they were, the brush being so thick Private Kern fired the first shot. I fired immediately after him. As soon as I fired there was some screaming done by a child. The captain then sung out again “How Colah,” and said “Don’t kill any squaws.” I replied that I was afraid it was too late. I am positive that the object I aimed at did not move after I fired. The one that done the squealing was behind the object and must have been wounded by my ball. I then sent Private Kern to the right of me on some high ground with instructions to watch the brush from up there. Myself and Private Settle, who had come up in the meantime, went through the brush down the creek, but we did not find any more Indians. I had not been closer than from twenty to twenty-five yards to the Indians we shot at.
Major Vroom than asked the first sergeant if he could distinctly see the Indians when he fired.
I could just see the outline of something lying close to the ground. The brush was very thick. It was thicker between me and the Indians than it was between Kern and the Indians. I had to fire right through the brush. After I fired I went down the creek and did not see the bodies of the Indians. The captain told me that there was one woman and three children in there killed. There were only three shots fired, one by myself and two by Private Kern. After I got a little way down the creek I heard another shot fired in our rear, but I did not know at the time who fired it.
In the course of Major Vroom’s investigation into the killing of a Lakota woman and her three children, he next interviewed Blacksmith Maurice Carey, a twenty-three-year-old emigrant from Northern Ireland who had enlisted in the army at Wheeling, West Virginia, in the middle of September 1890. He was one of the new recruits that joined the regiment at Pine Ridge at the beginning of December. Carey was a horseshoer by trade prior to entering the military and Captain Godfrey appointed him to the vacant blacksmith position in D troop in the middle of December. Carey had light blue eyes, light brown hair, a fair complexion and stood five feet eight and a half inches tall. He provided Major Vroom with the following statement.
We were going through a ravine and saw a party of Indians trying to cross. Then we were dismounted and I ran back about twenty yards and fired a shot and then I went up over the bluff and came down to the captain. Then we were looking at those Indians and I caught one by the hair and lifted him up. He looked at me and pulled himself away and made a movement and I jumped away from him and shot him through the head. I shot him because I was afraid he was going to shoot me.
When asked how old the Indian was, Carey responded, “I took him to be seventeen or eighteen years old. He was pretty tall. I took him to be as tall as me.” Major Vroom next asked the blacksmith how close he was to the Indian when he shot. “I could not say.” replied Carey. “I jumped away from him as quickly as I could and then shot him.” “Was he lying on the ground when you shot him?” queried the investigator. “Yes, sir.” was the answer. The inspector general concluded the interview by asking, “How long have you been in the service?” to which Cary replied, “A little over six months.”
Prior to the army initiating its investigation into what E. S. Godfrey dubbed the tragedy at White Horse Creek, Blacksmith Carey provided a sworn deposition to Notary Public J. H. Farley in Geary County, Kansas.
I was with Capt. Godfrey and his detachment on the day of the Wounded Knee fight, when we killed four Indians in a ravine. We had been hunting for a party of Indians we had seen in that ravine and the first thing I heard was the 1st Sergeant telling the captain that there were some Indians in the brush. The captain dismounted a lot of us and I was sent down with 1st Sergeant and Private Kern, but they got ahead of me. Coming along behind I saw some Indians about 20 or 30 yards away creeping thro’ the brush and I quickly fired. I heard the 1st Sergeant and Kern fire. Then they went on down thro’ the brush, and I came out and went around on top of a high bluff and could see the dead Indians down in the bottom. I went down there with the captain and examined the Indians. There were four of them, a woman, two children and a boy who was nearly as tall as myself. I took him to be about 18 or 19 years old and thought he was wounded. The captain started to walk away and I took hold of the boy’s head to lift him up, when I did so he opened his eyes, looked at me and at the same time made a motion to get something out of his breast. I quickly jumped away from him and shot him thro’ the head. The captain turned around and I told him the Indian was not dead. I was only a few feet away from him when I fired this shot.
I fired no other shots, but these two, and did not see anybody else fire except the 1st Sergeant and Private Kern.
Major Vroom next interviewed Private William Kern, a twenty-three-year-old German emigrant who had been working as a baker when he enlisted at Newark, New Jersey, two years earlier. Kern was short in stature standing just five feet four inches with hazel eyes and brown hair. Private Kern provided the following statement:
After the shooting at Wounded Knee was over, we were ordered by Captain Godfrey to mount our horses and follow up a ravine. We followed that ravine along and came upon open ground, where we saw an Indian about two miles ahead of us. After we had looked over the ground carefully, we could not see any signs of other Indians and turned off to our right going down towards a big ravine full of underbrush and a road leading through the ravine from one end to the other. As soon as we came down the ravine the road bent to the left. As soon as we came around that bend we seen Indians. Captain Godfrey was riding in front and me and 1st Sergeant Gunther right behind him. Then we caught a glimpse of one Indian who appeared to be a buck. As soon as he saw us he jumped from the road and Captain Godfrey halted the command and told Sergeant Gunther to dismount and take some men and be prepared. There was me and Private Settle and Sergeant Gunther dismounted. The rest of the troop was sent out to the right and left of the ravine. As soon as we were dismounted, Captain Godfrey hallooed out twice: “How Colah,” and while he hallooed out “How Colah,” I was ahead and 1st Sergeant Gunther following me on the right side of the ravine in a kind of a washout, and we could see the head of an Indian twenty-five yards away. Captain Godfrey didn’t get any answer. By that time I had loaded up and Sergeant Gunther the same. I fired first and Sergeant Gunther Immediately after me. As soon as I had fired I reloaded again. I heard an Indian grunting, but it was too late for me to stop and I pulled off my second shot. Sergeant Gunther ordered me then to go along the ravine and search careful and he says he expects a lot of Indians in that ravine. Private Settle came on the left of me to help search the ravine. We went through that ravine carefully and couldn’t find nothing else. There was a log house in front of us on top, and we went up and searched that.
Inspector General Vroom asked Private Kern if he could distinctly see what he was aiming at when he fired at the Indians, to which Kern responded, “I could see a head that I was aiming at. The Indians were lying down in the same washout that we were in. The underbrush was very thick. I did not see the Indians after they had been killed.” Major Vroom concluded the interview by asking Kern how far he was from the Indians when he fired. “About twenty-five yards, just the width of the ravine.” was Kern’s reply.
Private Kern also had provided a sworn and notarized deposition that he had made the previous month at Fort Riley while he was in the post hospital recuperating from a gunshot wound to his face that he received at White Clay Creek on 30 December, the day after the incident under investigation.
I was with Capt. Godfrey and a detachment of the Troop on the day of the Wounded Knee fight when on coming down a ravine we had been looking for some Indians in, I saw an Indian, caught a glimpse of him just as he darted in the brush. He was a buck, at least I thought he was, he seemed to have on pants. The 1st Sergeant saw him at the same time and called out to the captain who was riding ahead, there are some Indians in the brush. The captain halted the troop and dismounted a lot of men and sent them around. I was directed to go down with the 1st Sergeant. The captain called out “How Kolah,” but didn’t get any answer. I went on down the road ahead of the 1st Sergeant looking into the brush. Pretty soon I caught sight of two heads across the ravine in a ditch and immediately fired at one of them. I loaded quickly and fired again just as the 1st Sergeant fired. The 1st Sergeant then told me and Settle to go on down the ravine quick and I heard the captain calling out “How Kolah” again. I only fired twice and was about the length of this ward away (hospital ward—67 feet long) when I fired. I never was at any time closer to these Indians than this, as I went straight on down the ravine quickly looking for the buck Indians we thought was in there. When I came back the detachment was not there any more where the Indians were fired at.
I do not think that Private Settle fired at all. Nobody else fired at that time except Sergeant Gunther and me. We did not find any more Indians in the ravine and came back.
All of this happened in only a few seconds; we were in a hurry to catch the buck Indians we thought were in there and did not stop long.
The final witness that Major Vroom questioned was Private Green A. Settle, a thirty-one-year-old native Kentuckian. He had served for three years with the Fifth Cavalry at Camp Supply, Indian Territory, in the mid 1880s and enlisted into the 7th Cavalry in January 1889. According to his most recent enlistment record, Private Settle stood just under five feet nine inches, had gray eyes, light hair and a fair complexion. Settle provided the following account to the inspector.
Coming down the ravine Captain Godfrey was leading the detachment, Sergeant Gunther was next to Captain Godfrey, Private Kern and myself were first in column. There were some Indians, I could not say how many, that appeared right in front of us in the road, and some one from behind had seen the Indian first and cried out: “There is Indians ahead of us.” The captain didn’t seem to see them at first and I didn’t see them till some one spoke. As soon as I saw them I only saw one, and he ran across the road into the under brush. The captain ordered the 1st Sergeant to dismount some men and go ahead. Sergeant Gunther, Private Kern and myself was the three men to dismount. Kern was in front, Sergeant Gunther was next to him and I was last. Private Kern moved on to where he saw the Indian run out of the road and fired two shots into a little ravine where the Indians had hid. Sergeant Gunther fired one shot and we then moved on down the ravine. There was a road running down the ravine and I was on the left side of the road as we went and Kern was on the right. We went on out as far as the brush was thick until it began to get open, to an old house. After we had looked around there, the detachment came up and we mounted our horses and went away.
Major Vroom asked Settle if he could see the Indians when Private Kern and First Sergeant Gunther fired.
No, sir. There was a kind of dry creek or ravine that they were in that must have been twenty-five yards from the road. The underbrush and grass were very thick. I was about twenty-five yards from Sergeant Gunther and Private Kern when they fired. I did not see what they fired at. I did not see the Indians after they came out of the road. After the shots were fired, Captain Godfrey advanced toward where the Indians were and called out “How Colah.” Then he told Gunther to send men on down and search out the ravine. I went on down the ravine and did not see any more Indians. I did not see the bodies of the Indians that had been killed.
Having questioned all of the soldiers involved in the incident, Major Vroom concluded his investigation with a summation of testimony he had collected. Writing on 24 March 1891 from the Inspector General’s Office, Department of the Missouri in St. Louis, Vroom forwarded the following report through department and division headquarters to the adjutant general’s office at the war department.
It appears from the evidence adduced that on the 29th of December, 1890, immediately after the fight at Wounded Knee Creek, Captain E. S. Godfrey, 7th Cavalry, with a detachment of his troop, was in pursuit of a party of about fifteen Indians, who had escaped from the battle-field, and were making their way through a deep ravine toward the hills. On his return, while moving down along the valley of what he subsequently learned to be White Horse Creek, it was reported to Captain Godfrey that Indians had been seen in his front in the creek bottom. Captain Godfrey halted his detachment, dismounted half of it and ordered a non-commissioned officer to take some men and deploy them across the valley of the creek, while the other dismounted men were sent to the left on the high ground. While his men were deploying, Captain Godfrey called out several times to the Indians: “Squaw,” “Pappoose,” “Colah,” and tried in every way to indicate to them that if they were squaws or children they had nothing to fear. The men of the troop had previously been particularly cautioned against shooting squaws and children and when they were ready to advance on this occasion the caution was repeated. First Sergeant Herman Gunther was in charge of the squad directed to move down the ravine. After waiting for sometime to give the men on the left time to get into position, and also to receive responses from the Indian, Captain Godfrey ordered his non-commissioned officers to move their squads forward very carefully. The men under Sergeant Gunther advanced close to the ground and soon commenced firing. Captain Godfrey, hearing the wail of a child, called to them to stop firing, but they had already stopped. The party was then about twenty-five or thirty yards from where the Indians were found to be. Captain Godfrey immediately went forward to where the bodies were and found a boy, a squaw and two children lying there, the squaw and children dead, and the boy, who was lying on his face, apparently so. At this juncture, Blacksmith Maurice Carey, who after the first firing had gone around on top of a high bluff, from which he could see the dead Indians in the creek bottom, joined Captain Godfrey. As the latter turned away to look after his detachment, Blacksmith Carey took hold of the Indian boy’s head to lift him up. As he did so, the boy opened his eyes and made a movement that evidently frightened Carey, who jumped back and shot him through the head. Blacksmith Carey states that he shot the Indian because he was afraid the Indian would shoot him.
But five shots were fired during this affair, one by Sergeant Gunther, two by Blacksmith Carey and two by Private Kern. The evidence shows that the brush in the creek bottom was very thick and that the men could not distinctly see what they were firing at. The Indians were evidently lying down and close together when shot. With the exception of the last shot fired by Blacksmith Carey, which killed the Indian boy, all of the shots were fired at distances of from twenty to thirty yards, precluding the possibility of the person or clothing of every Indian having been powder-burned.
The whole affair lasted but a few moments. The men were excited and there seems to be no doubt that they believed that the Indians seen belonged to the party they had pursued from the battle-field. The killing of the woman and children was unfortunate, but there is nothing to show that it was deliberate or intentional. First Sergeant Gunther is an old soldier of the 3d Cavalry and has been personally known to me for many years. That he would deliberately shoot down women and children I do not believe. Blacksmith Carey is a recruit and at the time of this occurrence had been but three weeks with his troop. As suggested by Captain Godfrey, it is probable that his action in killing the Indian boy was prompted by what he had heard from old soldiers of the ruses and desperation of wounded Indians. Opinions differ as to the age of the Indian boy. Captain Godfrey thinks that his age was 16 or 17 years, while Blacksmith Carey states that he was 18 or 19 years old and as tall as himself.
Major General John M. Schofield, Commanding General of the Army, endorsed Major Vroom’s report on 2 April adding, “In my judgment no further action is required in this case.” The report was marked “Seen by the Secretary of War” and filed with the Adjutant General’s Office.
Blacksmith Maurice Carey, the Irishman from Wheeling, West Virginia, was discharged from the army at Fort Riley for disability in January 1892 with a characterization of service of ‘excellent.’ His life after the army is lost to history.
Private William Kern, the German emigrant from Newark, New Jersey, was shot in the face during the Drexel Mission fight along the White Clay Creek the day after the Wounded Knee battle. Kern drowned on 20 September 1891 while fishing in the Kansas River, still assigned to D troop at Fort Riley. The army ruled his death was not in the line of duty. He was buried in the Fort Riley Post Cemetery.
Green A. Settle is buried in A. R. Dyche Memorial Park at London, Kentucky.
Private Green A. Settle of Jackson County, Kentucky, continued his service with the 7th Cavalry. During the Spanish American War, he served as the first sergeant of troop H, in the 1st U. S. Volunteer Cavalry, the Rough Riders, which was one of the elements of the regiment that did not go to Cuba. After the war and seventeen years in the cavalry, he settled in London, Kentucky, where he worked as a barber. About 1903 he married twenty-one-year old Annie Reams and they had six children together. Green Settle died in 1946 and his wife 1969.
First Sergeant Herman Gunther and his wife, Emma, are buried in the San Antonio National Cemetery.
First Sergeant Herman Gunther enlisted two more times ultimately retiring on 19 June 1899 at Fort Riley, Kansas, after thirty years of service. At the time of his retirement he was still serving as D troop’s first sergeant. He married eighteen-year-old Emma Kramer, a dress maker from Junction City, Kansas, in 1892. The Gunther’s settled in San Antonio, Texas. They had one son, Arthur, born in 1895. Herman Gunther died in 1931, Emma in 1945.
Edward S. Godfrey wrote an unpublished manuscript entitled “Tragedy at White Horse Creek” in 1903, likely to present his account of the incident and perhaps influence senior military leaders and politicians to intercede on his behalf with President Roosevelt, who was adamant that Godfrey would not be promoted to flag officer rank. Roosevelt eventually did promote Godfrey to brigadier general in 1907 largely based on the counsel of Major General J. Franklin Bell, Chief of Staff of the Army and fellow former 7th Cavalry officer who had served with Godfrey during the Pine Ridge campaign. However, the promotion came in Godfrey’s sixty-fourth year when he would be retired by law, and, thus, not be eligible for promotion to major general. In 1931 at the request of the Chief of Staff of the Historical Section of the U.S. Army War College, General Godfrey wrote a letter recounting his reminiscences of Wounded Knee and White Horse Creek. His recollection was in line with his testimony four decades earlier.
The names of the Lakota woman and her son and two daughters that were shot and killed along White Horse Creek at the hands of the cavalrymen of D troop remain unrecorded, their bodies resting in unmarked graves where they were buried by Captain Frank D. Baldwin’s party on 20 January 1891, three weeks after they were killed.
 Peter D. Vroom, “Investigation of circumstances connected with shooting of an Indian woman and three children by U.S. Troops near the scene of the battle of Wounded Knee Creek,” in Reports and Correspondence Related to the Army Investigations of the Battle at Wounded Knee and to the Sioux Campaign of 1890–1891, the National Archives Microfilm Publications (Washington: The National Archives and Records Service, General Services Administration, 1975), Roll 1, Target 3, Jan. 1891, 1136.
 Adjutant General’s Office, Official Army Register for 1912, (Washington: War Department, 1912), 478.
 Register of Enlistments in the U.S. Army, 1798-1914, (National Archives Microfilm Publication M233, 81 rolls), Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, 1780’s-1917, Record Group 94, National Archives, Washington, D.C.,
 Vroom Investigation, 1155-1156.
 Ibid., 1149-1151.
 Ibid., 1151.
 Register of Enlistments in the U.S. Army, Years: 1885-1890, Range: A-D, Page: 255, Line: 304.
 Vroom Investigation, 1151.
 Ibid., 1152.
 Ibid., 1156-1157.
 Ibid., 1152.
 Ibid., 1153.
 Ibid., 1157-1158.
 Ibid., 1153-1154.
 Ibid., 1154-1155.
 Ibid., 1142-1145.
 Ibid., 1441.
 Register of Enlistments in the U.S. Army, Years: 1885-1890, Range: A-D, Page: 255, Line: 304.
 Ibid., Page: 331, Line: 34; National Archives and Records Administration, Burial Registers of Military Posts and National Cemeteries, compiled ca. 1862-ca. 1960, Archive Number: 44778151, Series: A1 627, Record Group Title: Records of the Office of the Quartermaster General, 1774-1985, Record Group Number: 92.
 Register of Enlistments in the U.S. Army, Years: 1893-1897, Range: L-Z, Page: 92, Line: 56; Ancestry.com, U.S., Spanish American War Volunteers, 1898 [database on-line], Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2012, Original data: General Index to Compiled Service Records of Volunteer Soldiers who Served During the War with Spain, Microfilm publication M871, 126 rolls, ARC ID: 654543, Records of the Adjutant General’s Office, 1780s–1917, Record Group 94; Ancestry.com, United States Federal Census [database on-line], Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2004, Year: 1900, Census Place: London, Laurel, Kentucky, Roll: 537, Page: 1A, Enumeration District: 0147, FHL microfilm: 1240537; Ancestry.com, Kentucky, Death Records, 1852-1953 [database on-line], Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2007.
 Ancestry.com, United States Federal Census [database on-line], Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations Inc, 2004, Year: 1900, Census Place: San Antonio Ward 6, Bexar, Texas, Roll: 1611, Page: 12A, Enumeration District: 0100, FHL microfilm: 1241611; Year: 1910, Census Place: San Antonio Ward 6, Bexar, Texas, Roll: T624_1531, Page: 8A, Enumeration District: 0048, FHL microfilm: 1375544; Year: 1930, Census Place: San Antonio, Bexar, Texas, Roll: 2296, Page: 25B, Enumeration District: 0105, Image: 556.0, FHL microfilm: 2342030; Year: 1940, Census Place: San Antonio, Bexar, Texas, Roll: T627_4205, Page: 10B, Enumeration District: 259-143; “Kansas, Marriages, 1840-1935,” index, FamilySearch (https://familysearch.org/pal:/MM9.1.1/FW2B-2JM : accessed 30 May 2014), Herman Gunther and Emma Kramer, 14 Jul 1892, citing Junction City, Geary, Kansas, reference p 159; FHL microfilm 1685972; Ancestry.com, Texas, Death Certificates, 1903–1982 [database on-line], Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2013, Original data: Texas Department of State Health Services. Texas Death Certificates, 1903–1982. iArchives, Orem, Utah, Ancestry.com, U.S. National Cemetery Interment Control Forms, 1928-1962 [database on-line], Provo, UT, USA: Ancestry.com Operations, Inc., 2012, Original data: Interment Control Forms, 1928–1962, Interment Control Forms, A1 2110-B. Records of the Office of the Quartermaster General, 1774–1985, Record Group 92, The National Archives at College Park, College Park, Maryland.
 Associated Press, “Brig. Gen. Godfrey Retired,” The Sun (New York: 10 Oct 1907), 2; Peter Cozzens, ed., Eyewitnesses to the Indian Wars, 1865-1890, (Mechanicsburg: Stackpole Books, 2004), 615-619.
 The Westerners Brand Book, vol 19, 1963, page 82 provides detail as to the identity of the Lakota woman, “Mother and children were not divided even in death, Prone, and with the right side of her face frozen to the solid earth was the squaw “Walks-Carrying-The-Red.” Snow almost covered an extended arm and filled the creases in the little clothing she wore. Piled up alongside of her were her little ones, the youngest with nothing to cover its ghastly nakedness but a calf buffalo robe.” Check sources cited by Jerome Greene in American Carnage, page 520, note 69. He cites the Lakota woman’s husband as Elk Creek and her brother as Red Hawk.
Citation for this article: Samuel L. Russell, “Investigation of the White Horse Creek Tragedy,” Army at Wounded Knee, updated 18 July 2014, accessed _______, http://wp.me/p3NoJy-ju.