Sarah Ann Ashby McClure Braches (1811-1894)

Sarah Ann Ashby was the daughter of John Miller Ashby & Mary Harris Garnet. She was born in Lexington, Shelby County, Kentucky.

1st. marriage: September 1, 1829,Sarah married Bartlett McClure in Spencer County Kentucky.

Came to Texas February, 1830 with her husband, Bartlett McClure, and her father,John Miller Ashby and his family of seven(7)children. John Ashby received title to a sitio tract on the Lavaca River. The Ashby and McClure's travelled by boat from New Orleans;arriving at Compano(on the Gulf coast of what is now TEXAS)near the mouth of the Guadalupe River. There John Ashby and Bartlett McClure were denied entrance into the country by the Mexicans. John Ashby walked to Goliad where he & Bartlett were granted admittance. The families travelled to their homestead via oxen pulled carts. Bartlett & Sarah settled at Peach Creek in Gonzales County.

Records show their were approximately 25 families settled in the DeWitt Colony in Gonzales County.Bartlett and Sarah first built a log cabin there in 1831. Indians were a constant menance to the settlers at that time. Sarah and the other women pioneers suffered many harships;however, diaries and letters reflect the bravery these women exhibited.

When the massacre occurred at the ALAMO,word quickly reached the Ashby family at Peach Creek. Sarah & her family were part of the "RUNAWAY SCRAPE". Sarah & Bartlett's log house was burned when they returned after the Texians victory at San Jacinto. They proceed to build the 2 story home that still stands on Peach Creek.

2nd.marriage: Married Charles Braches March 2nd, 1842.Charles Branches was born at Gaulkhausen, Kreuznach, Rheim, Prussia, February 25th, 1813. They were the parents of 4 children.

When Sarah died she was 83 years of age. Sarah was one of the last survivors of the colonists who came to Texas in 1831.

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Mrs. Sarah Ann [Ashby McClure] Braches, who died at her home on Peach creek, near the town of Gonzales, October 17th, 1894, aged eighty-three years and seven months, was one of the last survivors of the colonists who came to Texas in 1831. Although confined to her bed for a number of years, she was ever cheerful, and would laugh or cry with the changing theme as she recounted with glowing imagery the story of the hardships and perils through which she passed in her earlier years. Her memory was remarkably retentive, and her mind singularly clear, almost up to the moment of her death. She was the representative of a race that redeemed the wilderness and won freedom for Texas. Upon the broad foundation it laid, has been erected the noble superstructure of later times. Truly a mother of Israel has passed away. May the flower-gemmed sod rest lightly above her pulseless form, and her memory be preserved in grateful hearts as well as upon the pages of the history of the country she loved so well. Her parents were John M. and Mary (Garnett) Ashby, natives of Kentucky. Sara Ashby was born in Shelby County, KY, March 12th, 1811, and was the oldest of twelve children.

She was united in marriage to Judge Bartlett D. McClure in Kentucky in 1828. Three children were born of this union: Alex, in 1829, John, in 1833, and Joel, in 1839, all now deceased. Joel was a soldier in Terry's Rangers during the war between the States, and in the charge led by Gen. Albert Sidney Johnston at Shiloh was shot in the groin, a wound from the effects of which he died October 23d, 1870, at the old family residence. In 1831 the Ashby family and Judge and Mrs. McClure emigrated to Texas. At New Orleans, March 12th of that year, the party took passage on a ship bound for Matagorda Bay and landed upon Texas soil the first of May following. The vessel was caught in a storm and the pilot losing his bearings steered into the wrong pass, whereupon the ship struck repeatedly upon a bar with such violence that all aboard expected every moment to be engulfed in the raging sea, but the ship was strong and kept afloat until morning, when the passengers and crew took to the small boats and effected a landing on the bar. Here they pitched camp and waited four days, when, the vessel still sticking fast, it was decided to abandon her to her fate and Judge McClure and a few companions, at the request of the rest, made their way to the mainland and went on to Goliad to get permission for the party to land, from the Mexican commander, who, according to the process of the tedious laws in vogue, had to send a courier to the seat of government before he could issue them a permit to enter and remain in the country. They were gone five days on this mission. The whole party finally landed in boats about fifteen miles below the present town of Rockport, but had to camp another week on the beach for Mexican carts to be brought from Goliad. They were delayed again at Goliad waiting for oxteams from Gonzales, as the Mexican carters would go no farther than the Guadalupe river.

The two families separated and Mr. and Mrs. Ashby settled in Lavaca County, on Lavaca river, five miles from Halletsville, Mrs. Ashby dying in that county in 1835, and her husband in Matagorda County, October 15th, 1839. Judge and Mrs. McClure established themselves on Peach creek near Gonzales, in De Witt's colony, where the subject of this memoir lived almost continuously during the after years of her life. There were only twenty-five families in Gonzales when they first visited that place. At this time (1831), the Comanches, Lipans and Toncahuas were friendly, but the Waco Indians were hostile and giving the settlers much trouble. In September, the people of Gonzales gave a dinner to about one hundred Comanches. The meal was partly prepared by the ladies of the place. Knowing the treacherous nature of the redskins, a guard of fifteen well-armed men was quietly appointed. These kept on the qui vive and neither ate nor drank while the Indians regaled themselves. No disturbance occurred and the Indians, having finished their repast, mounted their horses and departed with mutual expressions of good will. These friendly relations were terminated a year later, however, as the result of the action of a party of French traders from New Orleans, who passed through the country. These traders gave poisoned bread to the Comanches, and the latter declared war against all whites. For many years thereafter the country was subject to raids and depredations. In all those stirring times the subject of this memoir displayed an heroism as bright as that recorded upon the most inspiring pages of history, and a tenderness ennobling to her sex. On more than one occasion her intrepidity saved the homestead from destruction. At others she helped to prepare rations for hastily organized expeditions and spoke brave and cbeering words to the country's defenders. The wounded could always rely upon careful nursing at her hands and the houseless and indigent upon receiving shelter and succor. Ever womanly and true, her virtues won for her the lasting, love and veneration of the people far and wide and she is now affectionately remembered by all old Texians.

In August, 1838, while riding across the prairies with her husband, they came across twenty-seven Comanche warriors. By a rapid movement the Indians cut them off from the general ford on Boggy Branch, and they deflected toward Big Elms, another crossing place two miles distant. In the mad race that followed she became separated from her husband. A portion of the band observing this fact, uttered a shout of triumph and made a desperate effort to overtake her. She realized that she must put the creek between her and her pursuers and accordingly turned shortly to the right and rode at break-neck speed straight for the stream. As she reached it she fastened the reins in her horse's mane, wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her spurs in his quivering flank and the animal, with a magnificent exertion of strength, vaulted into the air and landed with his fore feet on the other side, his hind feet and legs sinking deep into the mud and quicksand that formed the margin of the branch. In an instant she leaped over his head and seizing the bridle encouraged him to make an effort to extricate himself, which, being a large and powerful animal, he did. She then waved her sun-bonnet to her husband who had effected a crossing further down at the Big Elms and whom she descried at that moment galloping toward her. He joined her and they rode home, leaving the baffled Comanches to vent their rage as best they could.

Sarah Ann McClure described the event in her own words:

"I didn't expect him to be able to jump clear across but I thought he would strike his feet in the opposite bank and I would be able to jump out over his head, but when he landed he managed to scramble up the bank and we galloped away safe and sound. The Indians rode up to the place and whooped and whistled and shook their spears at me but they didn't dare to try to make the leap that I did. Mr. McClure took an opposite direction when we became separated and I thought all along that he was killed, but he succeeded in reaching the crossing above and joined me several miles further on. The Indians had spears which they had fastened to their wrists. These they threw at us several times during the early part of the pursuit, their object being to cripple our horses."

Periods of quietude and occasional social gatherings gave variety of life and common perils nourished generous sentiments of neighborly regard, mutual kindness and comradeship. The hardships and dangers of the times in themselves seemed to have had a charm for the bold and hardy spirits who held unflinchingly their ground as an advance skirmish line of civilization. Nor were the happening of events rich in humor wanting. These were recounted over and over beside blazing winter hearths to amuse the occasional guest. One of these told to the writer by the subject of this memoir was the following:

Judge McClure, on starting for Bastrop in 1834, left a carpenter whom he had employed to build an addition to the house, behind him to protect the family. The man was a typical down-east Yankee. A morning or two later Mrs. McClure's attention being attracted by cattle running and bellowing; she looked out of her window and saw Indians skulking in the brush and two of the band chasing the cattle. She at once commenced arming herself and told her companion that be must get ready for a fight. He turned deathly pale, began trembling and declared that he had never shot a gun and could not fight. "Let's go back of the house," he said "and down into the bottom." To which she replied, "No, sir, you can go into the bottom if you want to; but I am going, to fight." The Indians killed a few calves but kept out of gun shot and passed on that night. The carpenter sat up until daylight with a gun across his lap. He could not shoot; but, it is to be presumed, found some comfort in holding a gun, for all that. The following morning she told the man that if he would go down to the lake back of the house and get a bucket of water, she would prepare breakfast. He replied that he was afraid to go. She stood this condition of affairs, as long as she could and then strapping a brace of pistols around her waist, took the bucket and started for the lake. The fellow at this juncture declared if she was bound to go, he would go with her, and followed on behind a few holding the gun in his hands. This so angered her that she turned and told him that, if he dared to follow her another foot she would shoot him dead in his tracks. Alarmed in good earnest he beat a hasty retreat to the house. Several days later some men came by going to Gonzales, and the carpenter went with them without finishing his job. What hair-lifting tales he told when he got back to his native heath and the prodigies of valor that he performed may be conjectured.

She [Sarah Ashby McClure] was living on Peach creek at her home, when the Alamo fell [see Gonzales Alamo Relief Force, Andrew Kent-WLM]. Prior to that event, when the people were fleeing from Gonzales in dread of the advance of Santa Anna on that place, twenty-seven women, whose husbands were in the Alamo, stopped at her house and were there when they received news of the massacre. Gen. Houston also stopped at her home on his second day's retreat and sitting on his horse under a big live oak tree (which she ever afterwards called Sam Houston's tree) ordered a retreat, saying that those who saw fit to remain behind must suffer the consequences. A great many relic hunters have secured souvenirs of moss from the tree. The women and children were sent on ahead, and when they had gone about four miles, heard the explosion of the magazine at Gonzales, blown up by Col. Patten, who later overtook them at the Navidad. Santa Anna and his army camped on Peach creek for five weeks and made his headquarters in her house during a part of the time. He then moved on toward the east after the Goliad massacre. The Mexicans drove off or killed all the stock on her farm, filled the well up with bricks torn from the kitchen floor and burned everything except the dwelling house. Having, been ordered by Gen. Houston to go after and bring up the "Redlanders," Judge McClure left his wife at Grisby's (now Moore's) Bluff on the Nueces, proceeded to execute the order and was thereby prevented from being present at and participating in the battle of San Jacinto. He was a member of the convention of Texas, held in 1833; organized the first county in DeWitt's colony and was its first county judge; and after an active and useful life died and was buried in Gonzales County in 1842.