Read time: 6 min.

Of all of Delaware County’s pioneer burial grounds, few carry the weight of history quite like Rees Cemetery along the old Muncie–Richmond Road. At first glance, it’s easy to pass by without a second thought. Look closer, though, and the ground tells a deeper story: nearly two centuries of early settlement, loss, and survival are bound up in this modest acre. That makes Rees Cemetery not just one of the county’s oldest burial grounds, but one of its most revealing windows into the lives and deaths that shaped Delaware County from its earliest days.

The story of Rees Cemetery is said to have started in 1831, when twelve-year-old Nicholas Gibson became the first recorded death in nearby Monroe Township. A cemetery there wouldn’t be established for another two years¹. With nowhere else to turn, his family laid their child to rest on the land of Lewis Rees². 

Rees and his wife, Mary, arrived in Perry Township from Ohio in 1822 before Delaware County was officially organized. Over time, Rees emerged as one of the area’s most influential settlers, amassing land and earning appointment as the first associate judge of the Delaware County Circuit Court in 1827³. Eventually, a pioneer cemetery arose on his land from that single, sorrowful internment.

Burials continued over time, including one of Revolutionary War Veteran William Polen, who died in 1837 at seventy-four⁴. Rees himself was buried at the cemetery that took his name in 1852, and his wife followed in 1875. All told, thirty-six members of the Rees -or Reese- family call the cemetery home today. 

That all said, the most notable name at Rees Cemetery belongs to a figure who has long straddled the line between history and legend, one who locals still know as Indian Jim. Much has been written over the years- some rooted in fact, and others drifting into speculation. Still, a few details of Jim’s life are clear. Born around 1804 as James Musco, he was the son of Jake and Sally Musco, better remembered in their own time as Indian Jake and Indian Sally. From that starting point, his life lingered in local memories long after the stories blurred and the facts thinned.

Jake, Sally, and James were members of the Lenape culture, which came to East-Central Indiana from the Hudson and Delaware River valleys in the 1790s⁵. When the Treaty of St. Mary’s ordered the surrender of all Lenape land in Indiana to the United States in 1818⁶, the outcome was unforgiving: three years later, the tribe was forced to leave the state altogether. All of them did, except for the Muscos. 

No one knows for certain why -or how- the Muscos were allowed to stay in Delaware County. The final resting places of Jake and Sally Musco are a mystery, too⁷. Their son’s story, however, comes into sharper focus: Indian Jim remained in Perry Township after his parents died, living with and working for the Rees family. He became a familiar and respected presence in the community⁸, and local legend credits him with hewing the black walnut logs used to build Delaware County’s first schoolhouse⁹.

Despite the stories that grew around him, Jim Musco lived quietly. He spoke little, took on whatever odd jobs he could, and passed away in 1873 at the age of sixty-nine¹⁰. That said, Indian Jim left behind a life remembered more in fragments and folklore than in ink when he was buried in Rees Cemetery. 

The problem is that no one knows where exactly in the cemetery he was buried. A 2000 survey using ground-penetrating radar was unsuccessful thanks to clay and moist earth¹¹. Still, two cenotaphs -one old, and one new- commemorate Indian Jim’s life. From 1986 to 2003, an eleven-foot-tall chainsaw statue just outside the cemetery fence did as well¹². 

Aside from Indian Jim’s grave, several other markers at Rees Cemetery stopped me in my tracks. One belongs to Thomas Turnbolt, whose broken white bronze headstone records a life measured in heartbreakingly precise terms: just nine months and twenty-eight days. Another is the truncated obelisk marking the grave of Mary Ann Rees, who died in 1857 at only twenty-nine years old. Both markers speak volumes without saying much at all. They’re ledgers of loss that still linger nearly two centuries later.

Rees Cemetery isn’t only a place of weathered stones and fading inscriptions. It also holds newer markers raised in remembrance of lives lost long ago. One honors Thankful A. Lenox, who died on June 10, 1860. Another remembers little Mariah E. Bridges, who passed away in 1844 at just two years old.

Nearby sits a monument for Infant Gibson, the son of Robert and Mary. He lived only a single day. Together, those markers bridge past and present, ensuring that even the briefest lives are no longer forgotten.

Rees Cemetery may be small, but it holds nearly two centuries of Delaware County’s earliest stories. From pioneer families and Revolutionary War veterans to notable figures like Indian Jim and children who lived only days or months, the cemetery reads less like a roster of the dead and more like a fragile record of settlement, loss, endurance, and memory.

Some names are etched deep and clear, but others are remembered only through legend, replacement markers, or the effort of those who still care enough to look. In that way, Rees Cemetery continues its purpose: not just as a place of burial, but as a reminder that today’s Delaware County was built on lives both well-documented and barely recorded. 

Sources Cited
1 Helm, T. B. (1881). Perry Township. In History of Delaware County, Indiana: With Illustrations and Biographical Sketches of Some of Its Prominent Men and Pioneers. book, Kingman Brothers.
2 Hillman, R. (1993, June 23). Our Neighborhood. The Muncie Star. p. 4. 
3 (See footnote 1). 
4 Beeson, C. (1964). Revolutionary War Soldiers Buried in Delaware County. Daughters of the American Revolution. Paul Revere Chapter [Boston]. Book. 
5 Flook, C. (2017, June 5). Lenape chiefs lived in Delaware County. The Muncie Star Press. p. A4. 
6 Bump, D. (1954, June 12). Ghost of “Indian Jim” Hovers Over Boy Scout Camp Red Wing. The Muncie Evening Press. p. 14. 
7 Greene, D. (1962, March 20). Seen and Heard in Our Neighborhood. The Muncie Star. p. 4. 
8 Barnet, B. (1986, February 23). ‘Their Names Are in Our Water; We Cannot Wash Them Out.’ The Muncie Star. p. 14. 
9 Greene, D. (1957, January 1). Seen and Heard in Our Neighborhood. The Muncie Star. p. 4.
10 (See footnote 8). 
11 Carlson, J. (2000, October 4). Where is Indian Jim? The Muncie Star Press. p. 7. 
12 Carlson, J. (2003, June 9). Indian Jim no longer stands guard. The Muncie Star Press. p. 1.