BY SAMUEL C. Ba.s.sETT
In 1860, Edward Oliver, Sr., his wife and seven children, converts to the Mormon faith, left their home in England for Salt Lake City, Utah.
At Florence, Nebraska, on the Missouri river a few miles above the city of Omaha, they purchased a traveling outfit for emigrants, which consisted of two yoke of oxen, a prairie-schooner wagon, and two cows; and with numerous other families having the same destination took the overland Mormon trail up the valley of the Platte on the north side of the river.
When near a point known as Wood River Centre, 175 miles west of the Missouri river, the front axle of their wagon gave way, compelling a halt for repairs, their immediate companions in the emigrant train continuing the journey, for nothing avoidable, not even the burial of a member of the train, was allowed to interfere with the prescribed schedule of travel. The Oliver family camped beside the trail and the broken wagon was taken to the ranch of Joseph E. Johnson, who combined in his person and business that of postmaster, merchant, blacksmith, wagon-maker, editor, and publisher of a newspaper (_The Huntsman"s Echo_). Johnson was a Mormon with two wives, a man pa.s.sionately fond of flowers which he cultivated to a considerable extent in a fenced enclosure. While buffalo broke down his fence and destroyed his garden and flowers, he could not bring himself to kill them. He was a philosopher and, it must be conceded, a most useful person at a point so far distant from other sources of supplies.
The wagon shop of Mr. Johnson contained no seasoned wood suitable for an axle and so from the trees along Wood river was cut an ash from which was hewn and fitted an axle to the wagon and the family again took the trail, but ere ten miles had been traveled the green axle began to bend under the load, the wheels ceased to track, and the party could not proceed. In the family council which succeeded the father urged that they try to arrange with other emigrants to carry their movables (double teams) and thus continue their journey.
The mother suggested that they return to the vicinity of Wood River Centre and arrange to spend the winter. To the suggestion of the mother all the children added their entreaties. The mother urged that it was a beautiful country, with an abundance of wood and water, gra.s.s for pasture, and hay in plenty could be made for their cattle, and she was sure crops could be raised. The wishes of the mother prevailed, the family returned to a point about a mile west of Wood River Centre, and on the banks of the river constructed a log hut with a sod roof in which they spent the winter. When springtime came, the father, zealous in the Mormon faith, urged that they continue their journey; to this neither the mother nor any of the children could be induced to consent and in the end the father journeyed to Utah, where he made his home and married a younger woman who had accompanied the family from England, which doubtless was the determining factor in the mother refusing to go.
The mother, Sarah Oliver, proved to be a woman of force and character.
With her children she engaged in the raising of corn and vegetables, the surplus being sold to emigrants pa.s.sing over the trail and at Fort Kearny, some twenty miles distant.
In those days there were many without means who traveled the trail and Sarah Oliver never turned a hungry emigrant from her door, and often divided with such the scanty store needed for her own family. When rumors came of Indians on the warpath the children took turns on the housetop as lookout for the dread savages. In 1863 two settlers were killed by Indians a few miles east of her home. In the year 1864 occurred the memorable raid of the Cheyenne Indians in which horrible atrocities were committed and scores of settlers were ma.s.sacred by these Indians only a few miles to the south. In 1865 William Storer, a near neighbor, was killed by the Indians.
Sarah Oliver had no framed diploma from a medical college which would ent.i.tle her to the prefix "Dr." to her name, possibly she was not ent.i.tled to be called a trained nurse, but she is ent.i.tled to be long remembered as one who ministered to the sick, to early travelers hungry and footsore along the trail, and to many families whose habitations were miles distant.
Sarah Oliver and her family endured all the toil and privation common to early settlers, without means, in a new country, far removed from access to what are deemed the barest necessities of life in more settled communities.
She endured all the terrors incident to settlement in a spa.r.s.ely settled locality, in which year after year Indian atrocities were committed and in which the coming of such savages was hourly expected and dreaded. She saw the building and completion of the Union Pacific railroad near her home in 1866; she saw Nebraska become a state in the year 1867. In 1870 when Buffalo county was organized her youngest son, John, was appointed sheriff, and was elected to that office at the first election thereafter. Her eldest son, James, was the first a.s.sessor in the county, and her son Edward was a member of the first board of county commissioners and later was elected and served with credit and fidelity as county treasurer.
When, in the year 1871, Sarah Oliver died, her son Robert inherited the claim whereon she first made a home for her family and which, in this year, 1915, is one of the most beautiful, fertile farm homes in the county and state.
A DREAM-LAND COMPLETE
Dreaming, I pictured a wonderful valley, A home-making valley few known could compare; When lo! from the bluffs to the north of Wood river I saw my dream-picture--my valley lies there.
Miles long, east and west, stretch this wonderful valley: Broad fields of alfalfa, of corn, and of wheat; "Mid orchards and groves the homes of its people; The vale of Wood river, a dream-land complete.
Nebraska, our mother, we love and adore thee; Within thy fair borders our lot has been cast.
When done with life"s labors and trials and pleasures, Contented we"ll rest in thy bosom at last.
A PIONEER NEBRASKA TEACHER
BY MRS. ISABEL ROSCOE
In 1865, B. S. Roscoe, twenty-two years of age, returned to his home in Huron county, Ohio, after two years" service in the civil war. He a.s.sisted his father on the farm until 1867, when he was visited by F. B.
Barber, an army comrade, a homesteader in northwestern Nebraska. His accounts of the new country were so attractive that Mr. Roscoe, who had long desired a farm of his own, decided to go west.
He started in March, 1867, was delayed in Chicago by a snow blockade, but arrived in Omaha in due time. On March 24, 1867, Mr. Roscoe went to Decatur via the stage route, stopping for dinner at the Lippincott home, called the half-way house between Omaha and Decatur. He was advised to remain in Decatur for a day or two for the return of B. W. Everett from Maple Creek, Iowa, but being told that Logan creek, where he wished to settle, was only sixteen miles distant, he hired a horse and started alone. The snow was deep with a crust on top but not hard enough to bear the horse and rider. After going two miles through the deep snow he returned to Decatur. On March 26 he started with Mr. Everett, who had a load of oats and two dressed hogs on his sled, also two cows to drive.
They took turns riding and driving the cows. The trail was hard to follow and when they reached the divide between Bell creek and the Blackbird, the wind was high and snow falling. They missed the road and the situation was serious. There was no house, tree, or landmark nearer than Josiah Everett"s, who lived near the present site of Lyons, and was the only settler north of what is now Oakland, where John Oak resided.
They abandoned the sled and each rode a horse, Mr. Everett trying to lead the way, but the horse kept turning around, so at last he let the animal have its way and they soon arrived at Josiah Everett"s homestead shanty, the cows following.
The next day Mr. Roscoe located his homestead on the bank of Logan creek. A couple of trappers had a dugout near by which they had made by digging a hole ten feet square in the side of the creek bank and covering the opening with brush and gra.s.s. Their names were Asa Merritt and George Kirk.
Mr. Roscoe then returned to Decatur and walked from there to Omaha, where he filed on his claim April 1, 1867. The ice on the Missouri river was breaking though drays and busses were still crossing. Mr. Roscoe walked across the river to Council Bluffs and then proceeded by train to Bartlett, Iowa, intending to spend the summer near Brownville, Nebraska.
In August he returned to his homestead and erected a claim shanty. The following winter was spent working in the woods at Tietown. In the winter of 1869 fifty dollars was appropriated for school purposes in Everett precinct and Mr. Roscoe taught school for two months in his shanty and boarded around among the patrons.
EXPERIENCES OF A PIONEER WOMAN
BY MRS. ELISE G. EVERETT
On December 31, 1866, in a bleak wind I crossed the Missouri river on the ice, carrying a nine months" old baby, now Mrs. Jas. Stiles, and my four and a half year old boy trudging along. My husband"s brother, Josiah Everett, carried three-year-old Eleanor in one arm and drove the team and my husband was a little in advance with his team and wagon containing all our possessions. We drove to the town of Decatur, that place of many hopes and ambitions as yet unfulfilled. We were entertained by the Herrick family, who said we would probably remain on Logan creek, our proposed home site, because we would be too poor to move away.
On January 7, 1867, in threatening weather, we started on the last stage of our journey in quest of a home. Nestled deep in the prairie hay and covered with blankets, the babies and I did not suffer. The desolate, wind-swept prairie looked uninviting but when we came to the Logan Valley, it was beautiful even in that weather. The trees along the winding stream, the grove, now known as Fritt"s grove, gave a home-like look and I decided I could be content in that valley.
We lived with our brother until material for our shack could be brought from Decatur or Onawa, Iowa. Five grown people and seven children, ranging in ages from ten years down, lived in that small shack for three months. That our friendship was unimpaired is a lasting monument to our tact, politeness, and good nature.
The New Year snow was the forerunner of heavier ones, until the twenty-mile trip to Decatur took a whole day, but finally materials for the shack were on hand. The last trip extended to Onawa and a sled of provisions and two patient cows were brought over. In Decatur, B. S.
Roscoe was waiting an opportunity to get to the Logan and was invited to "jump on." It was late, the load was heavy, and somewhere near Blackbird creek the team stuck in the drifts. The cows were given their liberty, the horses unhooked, and with some difficulty the half frozen men managed to mount and the horses did the rest--the cows keeping close to their heels; and so they arrived late in the night. Coffee and a hot supper warmed the men sufficiently to catch a few winks of sleep--on bedding on the floor. A breakfast before light and they were off to rescue the load. The two frozen and dressed porkers had not yet attracted the wolves, and next day they crossed the Logan to the new house.
A few days more and the snowdrifts were a mighty river. B. W. was a sort of Crusoe, but as everything but the horses and cows--and the trifling additional human stock--was strewn around him, he suffered nothing but anxiety. Josiah drove to Decatur, procured a boat, and with the aid of two or three trappers who chanced to be here, we were all rowed over the mile-wide sea, and were at home!
Slowly the water subsided, and Nebraska had emerged from her territorial obscurity (March 1, 1867) before it was possible for teams to cross the bottom lands of the Logan.
One Sunday morning I caught sight of two moving figures emerging from the grove. The dread of Indian callers was ever with me, but as they came nearer my spirits mounted to the clouds--for I recognized my sister, Mrs. Andrew Everett, as the rider, and her son Frank leading the pony. Their claim had been located in March, but owing to the frequent and heavy rains we were not looking for them so soon. The evening before we had made out several covered wagons coming over the hills from Decatur, but we were not aware that they had already arrived at Josiah"s. The wagons we had seen were those of E. R. Libby, Chas.
Morton, Southwell, and Clements.
A boat had brought my sister and her son across the Logan--a pony being allowed to swim the stream but the teams were obliged to go eight miles south to Oakland, where John Oak and two or three others had already settled, and who had thrown a rough bridge across.
Before fall the Andrew Everett house (no shack) was habitable--also a number of other families had moved in on both sides of the Logan, and it began to be a real neighborhood.
One late afternoon I started out to make preparations for the night, as Mr. Everett was absent for a few days. As I opened the door two Indians stood on the step, one an elderly man, the other a much-bedecked young buck. I admitted them; the elder seated himself and spoke a few friendly words, but the smart young man began immediately to inspect the few furnishings of the room. Though quaking inwardly, I said nothing till he spied a revolver hanging in its leather case upon the wall and was reaching for it. I got there first, and taking it from the case I held it in my hands. At once his manner changed. He protested that he was a _good_ Indian, and only wanted to _see_ the gun, while the other immediately rose from his chair. In a voice I never would have recognized as my own, I informed him that it was time for him to _go_.
The elder man at last escorted him outside with me as rear guard. Fancy my feelings when right at the door were ten or more husky fellows, who seemed to propose entering, but by this time the desperate courage of the arrant coward took possession of me, and I barred the way. It was plain that the gun in my hand was a surprise, and the earnest entreaties of my five-year-old boy "not to shoot them" may also have given them pause. They said they were cold and hungry; I a.s.sured them that I had neither room nor food for them--little enough for my own babies. At last they all went on to the house of our brother, Andrew Everett. I knew that they were foraging for a large party which was encamped in the grove. Soon they came back laden with supplies which they had obtained, and now they insisted on coming in to _cook them_, and the smell of spirits was so unmistakable that I could readily see that Andrew had judged it best to get rid of them as soon as possible, thinking that they would be back in camp by dark, and the whiskey, which they had obtained between here and Fremont, would have evaporated. But it only made them more insistent in their demands and some were looking quite sullen. At last a young fellow, _not_ an Indian--for he had long dark curls reaching to his shoulders--with a strategic smile asked in good English for a "drink of water." Instead of leaving the door, as he evidently calculated, I called to my little boy to bring it. A giggle ran through the crowd at the expense of the strategist but it was plain they were growing ugly. Now the older Indian took the opportunity to make them an earnest talk, and though it was against their wishes, he at last started them toward the grove. After a while Frank Everett, my nephew, who had come down to bolster up my courage, and the children went to bed and to sleep, but no sleep for me; as the gray dawn was showing in the east, a terrific pounding upon the door turned my blood to ice. Again and again it came, and at last I tiptoed to the door and stooped to look through the crack. A pair of very slim ankles was all that was visible and as I rose to my feet, the very sweetest music I had ever heard saluted me, the neigh of my pet colt Bonnie, who had failed to receive her accustomed drink of milk the previous evening and took this manner of reminding me.
This was the only time we were ever menaced with actual danger, and many laughable false alarms at last cured me of my fears of a people among whom I now have valued friends.
RECOLLECTIONS OF WEEPING WATER, NEBRASKA
BY I. N. HUNTER
Mr. and Mrs. L. D. Hunter were pioneer settlers of Nebraska and Weeping Water, coming from Illinois by team. Their first settlement in the state was near West Point in c.u.ming county where father staked out a claim in 1857. Things went well aside from the usual hardships of pioneer life, such as being out of flour and having to pound corn in an iron kettle with an iron wedge to obtain corn meal for bread. When the bottom of the kettle gave way as a result of the many thumpings of the wedge, a new plan was devised--that of chopping a hole in a log and making a crude wooden kettle which better stood the blows of the wedge. This method of grinding corn was used until a trip could be made with an ox team, to the nearest mill, forty miles distant; a long and tedious trip always but much more so in this particular instance because of the high water in the streams which were not bridged in those days. These were small hardships compared to what took place when the home was robbed by Indians. These treacherous savages stripped the premises of all the live stock, household and personal effects. Cattle and chickens were killed and eaten and what could not be disposed of in this way were wantonly destroyed and driven off. Clothing and household goods were destroyed so that little was saved except the clothing the members of the family had on. From the two feather beds that were ripped open, mother succeeded in gathering up enough feathers to make two pillows and these I now have in my home. They are more than a half century old. A friendly Indian had come in advance of the hostile band and warned the little settlement of the approach of the Indians with paint on their faces. His signs telling them to flee were speedily obeyed and in all probability this was all that saved many lives, as the six or seven families had to keep together and travel all night to keep out of the reach of the Indians until the people at Omaha could be notified and soldiers sent to the scene. On the arrival of the soldiers the Indians immediately hoisted a white flag and insisted that they were "good Indians."
As no one had been killed by the Indians, it was the desire of the soldiers to merely make the Indians return the stolen property and stock, but as much property was destroyed, the settlers received very little. A number of the Indians were arrested and tried for robbing the postoffice which was at our home. My parents were the princ.i.p.al witnesses and after the Indians were acquitted, it was feared they might take revenge, so they were advised to leave the country.
With an ox team and a few ragged articles of clothing they started east.