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CHAPTER VII
OUR TRIP TO THE BLACK HILLS--A FIGHT WITH THE INDIANS AT PLUM CREEK--FRIGHTENED AT GENERAL CUSTER'S COMMAND--CROSSING THE PLATTE RIVER--WORK AT JULESBURG--KEEPING BOARDING-TENT FOR THE RAILROAD MEN--MAKING LIME IN THE HILLS--FRIGHTENED BY THE INDIANS--RETURN HOME.
ON the first day of
January, 1867, Miss Amelia Potts and I were united in holy
wedlock, agreeing to share the joys and sorrows of life together
so long as we both should live. Setting out in life without the
means to accomplish our most moderate wishes, we keenly felt the
importance of a special effort to prepare a home and its comforts.
With nothing but our hands to depend upon, we set them to work at
once.
In the spring of 1867, when the Union Pacific
Railroad was being built from Omaha to the Black Hills, there was
considerable excitement about the wages the contractors were
paying for work on the grade. Many of the young men of our
locality were talking of going out
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there to work during the summer and fall season. My brother
Richard, being anxious to go, insisted on my going with him. After
due consideration, I concluded that it would be the best thing I
could do; but Mrs. Wells was not willing that I should leave her
at home alone, and wanted to go with me. At first I disapproved of
her venturing among the wild Indians on the plains; for I knew
what it was for women to be among Indians in time of trouble, and
there were already reports of Indian depredations along the line
of the railroad, which made me more fearful of her going among
them. But she concluded that if I could go, she could; so, after
much deliberation, we determined that both should try our fortune
on the railroad among the Indians of the plains.
Brother and I purchased, two good
breech-loading rifles for self-defense, should the Indians come
upon us as they had previously done. Our former troubles with them
were not forgotten, and we determined to be better prepared to
meet them. As we had nothing to leave but the few household
effects we had accumulated during the winter, we could go without
any loss.
Purchasing a small span of horses and an old
wagon for the journey, about the first of May, 1867, with a few
camp equipments, we left home for the end of the Union Pacific
Railroad, which was then between the towns of North Platte and
Julesburg. At the end of the first day's journey we pitched our
camp near the junction of Big Sandy Creek and Little Blue River.
The next morning, while preparing for the day's journey, an
antelope saw our camp, and came up within a few rods of us to
satisfy his curiosity. I took up my gun, and carelessly fired,
and, notwithstanding it was within a very few rods of us, I missed
the antelope altogether, and away it bounded from our sight.
After two or three days' journey, we fell in
company with an emigrant train, and traveled with it for several
days, thus finding company and protection from the Indians.
Traveling up the Little Blue River, along the line of the Indian
massacre of 1864, we felt that we were again venturing on
dangerous ground. Following the stream as far as Pawnee
Ranch--where we had been attacked and met so much trouble, as
previously noticed--we crossed over the ridge
to the Great Platte River, without molestation or even seeing
an Indian. On reaching a place called Doby Town, we heard that the
Indians farther West were murdering the emigrants along the road.
Remembering our former trouble with them, we were somewhat
startled by the rumors, but pushed on to Fort Kearney, where we
heard flying reports of horrible massacres farther west on the
road.. At first we thought of returning home, but were not well
pleased with the idea of being intimidated by the red-skins.
Remaining at the fort a few days for further developments, we were
credibly informed that the savages were murdering the people along
the road in various places. We were now in a quandary as to our
further actions, thinking that to turn back would show cowardice,
but to go on was not altogether safe.
A man who was at the fort with a large
freight-train concluded to go on, and insisted on our going with
him. Notwithstanding the unfavorable rumors that continued to come
to us, we determined to accompany the freight train and face the
music. So, leaving the fort, we again traveled toward the setting
sun, keep-
ing a sharp lookout for the Indians, whom we expected to pounce
down upon us from the hills. How men will risk their lives for the
sake of making a few dollars, or because they don't wish to be
defeated in their purposes! We thus exposed ourselves to the
torture of the savages for the mere prospect of making a few
dollars. I have often asked myself why men will do just what I
have done myself.
After a few days' drive up the river from
Kearney, we found the Indians, or rather they found us. One
bright, beautiful day--such a day as some of the ladies would call
"just lovely"--we camped by the roadside to refresh ourselves and
teams. After caring for the teams, Mrs. Wells and I were walking
out from camp, gathering fagots for a fire to prepare our dinner,
when suddenly we heard the cry, "Indians in the hills!" Forgetting
that we were after fuel, we made a forced march to camp. Had we
wandered far from the train, undoubtedly the Indians would have
captured us;. for they were watching for just such an opportunity.
Some one had chanced to look toward the hills and saw the Indians
peeping over them,
awaiting a favorable opportunity to dash down upon us and
capture the entire outfit, which they would have done had we been
altogether off our guard. Richard had but that moment come from a
spot near which the Indians were first seen. He had been shooting
at an antelope there, and they could have cut him off from the
camp had they seen him. Our men were all called into camp at the
first alarm, and we set to work fortifying against any attack that
might be made. The freight-wagons were mostly loaded with shelled
corn in sacks, which were taken out and piled around the camp,
affording breastworks through which a ball could not penetrate.
This was sufficient protection from an assault on either side, and
would have enabled us to hold the position against four times our
number. Probably we could have repulsed several hundred of the
bloodthirsty fiends had they seen fit to give us a trial, for
there were about forty well-armed men inside the
fortification.
After the breastworks were complete, and
other things well arranged, some of the men walked out in plain
view, and by waving their
hats invited the bloodsuckers to come on; we were ready for
them. A few of the Indians rode out on the flat in open field, but
dared not come within gunshot. Those who showed themselves were
dressed in soldiers' uniform. How they came by these clothes we
never knew; but I would as soon believe that they were the so
called friendly Indians, who were then enlisted as Government
soldiers for the protection of the whites in that country, as that
they were wild Cheyennes; and I would as quickly risk my life
among the wild Indians as among the Indian soldiers on the
plains.
Shortly after these Indians rode out in plain
view of us, they all disappeared in the hills. Keeping a sharp
lookout for them, believing that they might make a charge upon us,
we soon saw them streaming from the hills upon another
freight-train in camp about three miles down the river. In less
time than it takes to write it, they reached that camp, and ran
off the stock, leaving the men there nothing with which to move
their wagons.
While still running, the Indians fired upon
the train-men, who were under the wagons play-
ing cards, and had seen nothing of them until they began
shooting and yelling. I have often thought that was a dear game of
cards; for if the players had been on the lookout, as we were, in
all probability they would not have been molested. So much for
card-playing.
After frightening the stock from the wagons,
the Indians drove them into the hills. Then we saw them dash upon
a ranch still farther down the road, and drive off all the stock
from that place.
Within the few minutes we were witnessing
this, thousands of dollars' worth of cattle and horses were driven
into the hills, leaving the people without means of moving from
the country. We have never learned, what became of the loaded
wagons by the roadside; but undoubtedly when the men left, as they
would have to do, the Indians came back and destroyed them.
After guarding ourselves and effects for a
few hours, we reloaded the wagons with our fortifications, and
traveled on without further molestation that day. By driving until
late in the evening, we reached Plum Creek, where we
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camped. There were a goodly number of ranchmen at Plum Creek,
and we thought that, by uniting our forces, we would be quite safe
for the night. After supper a guard was stationed around the camp,
and, believing that all would be well, we retired, and slept
soundly until morning. On looking out the next morning, we
discovered that one of our ponies was gone from the lariat-rope to
which it had been tied. Thinking that it had broken the rope, we
searched for it, and found traces of an Indian who had crawled up
in the grass, cut the rope, and led the pony away. It had been
tethered so near that it could almost reach the wagon in which we
were sleeping, and yet it was taken without disturbing us. On
finding our pony gone, we learned that other horses had been taken
from the barn at the ranch. This would not have happened had the
guard done their duty. Instead of watching as they were
instructed, as soon as all in the camp were asleep they abandoned
their post, and slept until morning, thus giving the Indians the
entire advantage of us. They could have come into the camp, and
murdered every
man and woman before we hardly knew of their presence.
Here I was, with my wife and our few camping
equipments, with no way to go on or return. But our greatest
anxiety at this time was our own safety. Believing that there
would be some way to get out of this, we did not despair, though
we had no hope of ever seeing our stolen pony again. After taking
breakfast and completing the morning work about the camp, Mrs.
Wells and I walked down to the ranch, not more than two hundred
yards from our outfit, to inquire for more news of the theft
during the night. We had been in the house but a few moments when
some one cried, "Indians are coming!" On looking out, we saw that
they were trying to steal all the horses from the camp, and run
them off into the hills. Seizing my gun, which I had with me, and
taking Mrs. Wells by the hand, we for once tried our speed in
running to the camp; and it was not a slow race either; there were
several men engaged in it, some of whom we passed in spite of
their efforts to keep pace with the flying crowd, and
we were among the first to reach the wagons. On reaching the
camp, one big fat man, whom we had left behind, came up, puffing
and blowing like an engine, and saying, "I was so scared that that
woman outran me." Mrs. Wells was an unusually stout and active
woman; she could lift as much as a man, and run like a deer; and,
having courage and bravery combined with her strength and
activity, she was well fitted for just such a race.
When my wife was safely inside the corralled
wagons, my brother and I ran out to head off the Indians as they
were passing by with the horses. A short distance from our camp
were some old, vacated sod buildings, which we reached, and then
concealed ourselves, thinking the Indians might come within
gunshot of the place, not knowing we were there.
Circling around and around with the horses,
it seemed that they would come near us. But we soon saw they were
not coming within range of our guns; so we left our hiding-place,
and, running out into the open prairie, fired on them as they ran.
One fellow went flying past on a very fleet horse, and we fired
several shots at
him. He was so far away, and running with such speed, that, as
near as we could judge, he was only frightened, and ran still
faster; but some of the men at the camp, who were looking on, said
one of the balls from my gun had struck him. We could never learn
whether this was true, as the last we saw of him he was still on
his pony. At the report of our guns when first fired, he gave a
tremendous yell, and threw himself down on the opposite side of
the horse. When he straightened up, we gave him another round, and
again he threw himself on the pony's side. This maneuver was
repeated until he was out of our reach. We supposed that his
yelling at the first report of our gun was to warn the other
Indians; for at the sound of his voice they turned away and kept
entirely out of reach of our guns. But he was a wonderfully
frightened redskin. Lookers on at the camp said that our balls
lifted the dust on every side of him, and the flying dust on the
farther side showed that the last ball from my gun had passed over
his pony's back just behind him. They also said that every time we
fired he would throw himself down by the side of his horse, and
fire his revolver at us
under his horse's neck; we were too busy sending lead after him
to notice all this. I have since thought that if my brother had
been in possession of my gun at the time, he would have at least
brought the Indian's horse to the ground; for he was one of the
best shots with a rifle at anything on the run that I ever saw.
His gun failed to throw far enough to reach the Indian, but by
elevating mine a little, it would carry to him every time.
Notwithstanding the well-directed, efforts of
the men at camp, the Indians drove off the horses belonging to the
entire outfit, excepting one pony, which, as luck would have it,
had been tied close to the wagons. The Indians succeeded in
getting the horses, because of our herding them a short distance
from the camp. They came upon them from the bluff, yelling and
shooting at our men, and scaring the horses until they were so
wild with panic that they fled to the hills, where they were
followed by the Indians. They learned that all they need do to
take the white man's horses was to run in among them and yell. The
horses would run away with fright, and the Indians followed them
until they
were tired of running, when they would surround and capture
them. We were not the only ones without teams; all those who had
horseteams lost them, and there were a goodly number of us
together with no prospects of leaving soon. Those with ox-teams
were in the right condition to leave, but did not move that day,
as they wished to wait further developments before venturing upon
the road. The reader may be sure that we felt we were in a close
place, being so far from home without money or team; but we did
not despair. We had hopes of getting away safely, but how we could
not imagine. We knew there was one way if the Indians were not too
numerous on the road. We were good travelers, and used to going on
foot, and, if we could do no better, Mrs. Wells could ride the
pony, and we could soon foot it out of that country, even if we
had to travel under cover of the night. The following night passed
without further disturbance, and next morning came, with its
bright effulgent rays streaming abroad as though nothing unusual
had transpired. Soon after breakfast, a number of horsemen were
seen coming up the road toward us, riding
as fast as their horses could go. We took them to be Indians,
and, amid great excitement in camp, in a few moments all hands
were armed, ready for the fray. As they seemed to be keeping the
road, some of us crept out into the weeds by the roadside, to
surprise them before they should reach the camp. But we soon
discovered that they were white men, who, by their manner of
riding, led us to believe the Indians must be in pursuit of them;
so we still expected an attack by the savages. When the horsemen
arrived, we learned that they had come to see whether we were all
murdered, or needed assistance. They hitched their ponies to the
hitching-rack by the ranch, and went into the house. My brother
approached the foaming, panting horses, and was surprised to
recognize our stolen pony as one of the number. On inquiring of
the men where they had found the animal, they said that, early in
the morning, it was noticed coming out of the hills, dragging a
long rope that was tied to its neck. We informed them that the
pony was ours, and how we had lost it. They seemed gruff, and not
disposed to recognize our claim. There were five of
them, rough, wicked, and well-armed ranchmen, and gave us to
understand at once that we could not have the pony, for they would
not give it up under any consideration. As we were in a locality
where might makes right, we hardly knew what to do. There was no
law in the country, and we could not expect justice from that
source. After telling the trainmen how we had found our pony, and
that the men having it in their possession were determined not to
give it up, they said, "There is your pony; go and take it, and we
will stand by you." So we went for it; and, while Richard was
taking off the saddle, I unhitched the horse from the post, and
led it away. just then the men came out of the house, armed to the
teeth; but, on seeing the trainboys gathering around us like bees,
they quieted down, saying if the horse was really ours they did
n't want it, and let us have it without further trouble. I could
not but think how friendly and kind some men are when compelled to
be so. We were jubilant. Our stolen pony, which we had no hopes of
seeing again, seemed to be miraculously restored to us. We now
felt that we could either go home or move still far-
ther into the country of death and destruction, and finally
determined on the latter course. The secret of our pony's return
to us is: it was a chronic bucker, and had spells when it would
allow no man to ride it. We supposed that the Indian, after
running the horse into the hills, had mounted its back, when, one
of those bucking spells coming on, it tossed Mr. Indian into the
grass, and ran back to the road, where it was taken up by the
white men. It was fortunate for us, however, that the pony bucked
with the Indian, but allowed the white man to ride it. So much for
a bucking pony.
The following morning, with the ox-train, we
moved on still farther into the Indian country, leaving those
behind who had lost their horses at the ranch, and of them we have
heard nothing to this day. Traveling westward, we kept a sharp
lookout for marauding bands of Indians, who might sally from the
hills at any moment. If I mistake not, it was the second day after
leaving Plum Creek, while we were in camp at noon, that we saw
Indian heads rise above the hill not far away, the redskins
apparently watching our movements about the
camp. As we were carefully guarded and well-prepared for
defense, and thinking they dared not attack us unless they caught
us off guard, we hooked up our teams and moved on. Meanwhile the
men, with guns in their hands, walked between the wagons and the
bluffs where the Indians had been seen. After going about a mile
from the camping-place, we saw hundreds of horsemen coming from
the hills, whom we thought to be wild Indians, and, as they were
so numerous, we doubted not they intended to seize our entire
outfit. On first seeing them we did not pause in our journey, but
they continued to come in greater numbers, until the whole country
seemed black with Indians. Though under extreme excitement, we
succeeded in corralling the wagons, and prepared to sell our lives
as dearly as possible. When we were altogether ready for what we
supposed to be our last struggle for life, and determined that
many of the enemy should fall before we were captured, lo and
behold! Government wagons were seen emerging from the hills, and
we at once understood that the horsemen were Government soldiers.
From them we learned that
the Indians we saw looking over the hills were General Custer's
Indian guides, and the hundreds of horsemen we were preparing to
fight was Custer's regiment of a thousand men.
Surely there was some rejoicing in camp about
that time. What a change came over our feelings! One moment we saw
the Indians in the hills, but had no particular fear; another
moment we expected to be dashed into eternity, and then saw there
was no danger. The man who has had no such experience has but a
faint idea of our feelings tinder the trying circumstances.
When we went into camp that night, Custer's
entire command camped not far away. In a short time afterward five
big Sioux Indians came out of the hills close by, claiming to be
friendly, and wanted something to eat. Our train-men, having been
so much annoyed by the Indians along the road, were determined to
give these fellows' carcasses to the buzzards before the next
morning. Somehow they got wind of it, and appealed, to General
Custer for protection. He fed and kept them over night, and in the
morning sent them on their way re-
joicing. At different places on the road at this time the old
Indians, squaws, and children were put in care of the Government.
They claimed to be friendly, that they might be protected and fed,
while at the same time the warriors were on the warpath, killing
all the whites of whom they could obtain any advantage. And when
the warriors were tired of killing the whites, and began to get
hungry, they would leave their hiding-places, claim to. be
friendly, get something to eat from the Government, and return to
the slaughtering of the white men as before. A good way to carry
on a successful war! And yet a great many cry, "0, the abused
Indian!"
It may be asked, How do we know these
statements to be true? By closely observing the movements of the
Indians all along the line of the road, we saw that their actions
indicated such treachery. Then, besides, General Custer's Indian
guides told our men that they knew the five Sioux who came from
the hills, as mentioned above, had been engaged in a bloody
massacre of the whites on the Santa Fé road but a short
time before.
Now we renewed our journey up the Platte
River, going as far as old Fort Cottonwood, where we intended
to cross to the north side. Usually the Platte at this place was
easily forded, but at this time its banks were full, and the
crossing was difficult. There was no ferryboat here; but cross we
must in some way, for we dare not remain on this side exposed to
the savages. Some of the ranchmen had a small boat that would
carry five or six men at a time, and this was our only chance for
crossing the wild, rapid, and angry stream. We were compelled to
take the wagons to pieces and carry part of them over at a time.
After the wagons and their loads were over, the oxen were driven
across by men hanging to their tails, and swimming after them; and
the horses were made to swim alongside the boat, some of the men
leading them by the halter, while others rowed. The river was
about half a mile wide, and we were required to make three trips
in order to carry one wagon over. First the bed was taken over;
then half of the running-gears at each of the other trips. After
about three days' hard work, we had all, bag and baggage, reached
the north
side of the river, and were ready for our western march.
Passing up the line of the railroad, we
occasionally saw the body of some poor fellow who had been
murdered by the Indians, and left at the wayside. At one place we
found a man who had been shot while upon a telegraph-pole
repairing the wire. The Indians had watched him until he was upon
the pole, with no chance to defend himself, then ran under him,
shot him down, and cruelly mangled his body. Possibly he knew
nothing of their presence until he was shot. At another place we
found a man lying dead in his wagon-bed, the running-gears having
been taken away. His body was almost decomposed and destroyed by
vermin. I presume these men had left dear ones and homes in the
East, that they might earn a few dollars for the necessaries of
life; and in all probability their friends will never know what
has become of them until eternity reveals the secret things of
time.
Journeying on as far as North Platte, we
stopped there and inquired for work. After
looking about for a few days, we sold our team, the horses
being too light for work on the grade, and took the train for
Julesburg, determined to work with our hands alone. After riding
on the construction train most of the night, at daylight we
reached the end of the road, which was then within three miles of
Julesburg, and a man was employed to take us on to the town. Here
we inquired for work, and found there was plenty to do, and that
wages were high. But, like most people, we were anxious to know
what would pay best for our time and labor.
We had been here but a short time when we
learned that there was a great demand for some one to do the
washing of clothes, and the people were willing to pay almost any
price for such work. So Mrs. Wells and I opened a laundry in a
tent, and set to work with a will to make something. My brother
went farther west into the Black Hills, leaving us alone in a wild
country, and in a tent on the outskirts of the town.
Though the country was wild and the people
very wicked, we had no fear of Indians; for there were hundreds of
men along the line of the road. When the people learned that a
laun-
dry had been started, they brought us all the work we could
possibly do, notwithstanding the enormous prices we charged. We
demanded whatever our conscience would allow, and our conscience
was exceedingly liberal at this time, but no one complained. The
rule there was to ask for anything you thought you could get. Our
price for washing small articles, such as socks, handkerchiefs,
etc., was ten cents apiece, twenty-five cents each for colored or
flannel shirts, and fifty cents for white shirts. I remember
washing and ironing for one party goods which I carried home in my
arms that brought us eleven dollars. This, to the reader, may seem
unreasonable; but in order to make good wages we were compelled to
charge high prices for our work. Our wash-water cost us a dollar a
barrel, and other things in proportion; so these unreasonable
prices for our work were only seemingly so. Besides, we thought we
ought to have a little extra pay on account of the numerous
insects we were at times compelled to wash with the clothes that
were brought to us.
After we had spent-one month at this kind
11
of work, a railroad contractor at a distant camp offered us a
hundred and fifty dollars a month and board to cook for his outfit
of about a hundred men. We accepted his offer, counted our money,
and found that we had, in one month, made one hundred and thirty
dollars clear of expenses. During the entire month we must have
taken in at least two hundred dollars for washing and ironing
garments alone. I presume that we would have saved more money had
we continued at this business all summer; but working over the hot
steam in warm weather was injuring our eyes, and we thought best
to abandon it and go at something else.
Again we packed our few things, boarded the
train, and moved still farther west, riding on a flat-car in the
open air. On these freight-cars we were not only exposed to the
wind and dust, but to the smoke and fire from the engine. The few
things we carried along had been thrown on the car behind the
engine, and took fire while on our way, and came near burning up.
The flying sparks caught in the dress Mrs. Wells was wearing, and
with much difficulty we were able to keep it from burning her. If
we knew
no better than to ride on an open car next to the engine, the
train-men should have warned us that we were there liable to be
burned up; but after this ride we needed no warning.
While making this run on the new road, the
engine gave us a flying ride after an antelope. As we were puffing
along at a good rate, an antelope was seen about a mile in advance
of the train, speeding along the road, and the engine gave chase.
The antelope was near the track, but dared not cross. On the other
side of it, off the road, graders were camped, and the animal
feared to turn either way, being shy of the shining rails on the
one side, and the campers on the other. After running about two
miles, the engine began to overtake the frightened animal, which
seemed to be fast failing in speed. About three miles further on,
the panting creature was overtaken, and the engine slowed up to
give the men a chance to shoot at it, when it ventured to cross
the road immediately in front of the cow-catcher, and escaped.
This was one of the most amusing races I ever witnessed. If the
antelope had not tired, but gained strength and activity as did
the engine, it would have
gotten away sooner. What a wonderful thing is the Iron Horse!
It draws a wonderful load, runs fast, and never tires.
Going into camp among the graders on the
railroad, we turned our hands to cooking among and for a very
rough set of men. Those who know me now would smile to see me
engaged as I was then,--mixing at once about fifty pounds of flour
in a wash-tub, and repeating this every day in the week. The
mixing and kneading the dough was too heavy work for a woman, and
it fell to my lot. Besides this, there was the general work, which
kept us both busy early and late. Usually we were engaged washing
dishes until after nine o'clock at night, and sometimes until
after ten. As we kept a general supply of everything, there was
much to do, and plenty of material to do it with. There was bread,
pie, cake, and pudding to bake, all of which I had a hand in
preparing. As my mother had trained me to do housework at home, it
was not altogether new to me. I learned by experience that a
woman's work is not an easy task, as some seem to think; and I am
sure I would rather fol-
low a plow an hour than stand by the table and wash dishes the
same length of time.
After cooking for this grading outfit for
about two months, we bought a small mule-team and went to work for
ourselves. Not being at all pleased with the company we were
compelled to be with while on the road, we left, and went to
burning lime in the Black Hills with my brother, whom we had again
fallen in with. Pitching our tent in a deep cañon among the
hills, we began work on our "own hook." Here we found the best
quality of limestone it was ever my lot to handle, and we burned
and sold it for one dollar a bushel. By careful management, we
made good wages at this work; but our hired help, which we thought
necessary, was so costly that it took away much of the profits of
our lime, though we did well while working at it. In this locality
the whole surface of the hill was covered with hard blue limestone
of the best quality, and from five to fifteen feet thick. The
railroad graders, in making a cut not far from our camp, went
through this solid stone where it was some twelve or fifteen feet
thick,
and we could get stone of all sizes which they had blasted and
lifted aside.
Burning lime did not suit us altogether, for
there was more or less Sunday work to be done, though we avoided
it most of the time. The necessary fuel could be drawn during the
week, but by mistake at one time we drew wood on Sunday. During
the week we had been busily engaged drawing wood and burning lime,
preparing for Sunday. On Saturday as we supposed it was, our hired
men did n't go to work as usual, and on our asking why, they said,
"We wish to rest to-day and wash our clothes." We failed to take
the hint that it was Sunday, told them "all right," hitched up our
teams, and went after wood. Reaching the railroad, we saw no one
at work there, and wondered what it meant. After we had loaded our
wagons, and were returning home, we saw that the graders were
still lying around the camp idle, and all at once it flashed into
our minds that this was Sunday. Then we saw how dull of
apprehension we were.
There were other objections against our
remaining here. One of the greatest was that it
was no place for a woman to live. There were but few women, and
most of them were of the "baser sort." There were good, nice women
among the graders on the road, of course; but these we scarcely
ever saw. Another thing, there was no religious society in all the
country, and the time spent here was worse than thrown away, so
far as religion is concerned. Again, a man was in danger of losing
his life at any moment, either by the Indians, who might shoot him
for his scalp, or by some white man who would kill him for his
money. Of all the rough, wicked places in the world, this was the
worst I ever saw. It was nothing uncommon to see a man shot down
for the most trifling offense. It was so common a thing, indeed,
that the boys said, "We have a man for breakfast every morning."
As there was no law, guns usually settled all disputes and
difficulties. The man or woman who has been in no such place, has
but little idea how low and inhuman some men and women become when
not under the restraint of law. One night, while we were eating
supper, a number of intelligent-looking young men came to our camp
and said, "We heard that there is a
man somewhere below here in the cañon who keeps women,
and we thought perhaps you could tell us where. to find him." I
could only tell them I had heard of such a person, but knew
nothing about him. 0, how sad to think of those boys far away from
the home where they had no doubt once lived under the influence of
a pure mother and sisters, and now surrounded by directly the
opposite, and led astray! How blessed to mothers that they can not
always know what their boys are doing when from home!
One morning, while Mrs. Wells and I were
alone, we were awakened by a drunken man coming into the tent. The
first we knew of his presence he was standing by the bedside, his
face all covered with blood, looking down into our faces. In his
drunken spree some one had pounded him up most fearfully. As I
always slept with my gun where I could lay hands on it at any
moment, I reached for it, at the same time keeping my eyes on the
intruder. My first impulse was to shoot him down on the spot, for
I was very much frightened, till, at a second glance, I discovered
that he was a drunken man;
but, with drawn gun, he was marched out of the tent. I suppose
that some fellow had got him drunk, then beaten, and sent him away
with an empty purse, as many others had been served before.
One day, about noon, as we were sitting in
our tent, a man who had been robbed in this way came for something
to eat. He said some one had invited him to take a social glass,
which he did, and later awoke from unconsciousness, to find he had
been robbed of all his money, and was now far from home and
destitute. We were afterward informed by other parties that he was
not a habitual drinker, but had been invited to drink, and was
drugged and robbed, as he told us. If the man was not a habitual
drinker, this was a good but severe lesson to him; at least a
strong hint to let the vile stuff alone altogether.
We were also annoyed by the Indians, who were
constantly doing mischief around us somewhere. One day, as Mrs.
Wells and I were on our way from the hills to Cheyenne City,
looking behind us we saw about thirty Indians. Though they were
dressed in soldiers' uniforms,
we knew not what they intended to do, nor who they were. As
before stated, the Government kept a number of Pawnee Indian
soldiers out here to guard the graders, but we were as suspicious
of them as of the wild Indians; for they had been known to shoot
white men whom they caught alone while hunting. There was little
consolation, therefore, in encountering these Indian soldiers. On
coming within about a half mile of us, they darted behind a ridge
which ran parallel with the road for several miles, and
disappeared from sight. Expecting them to follow behind the hills
a short distance, and then come upon us, I took my trusty rifle in
hand, ready to fire, keeping an eye upon the hills from which I
thought they might emerge. At the same time I whipped up the
mules, urging them to travel as for life, and prepared to begin
shooting the Indians as soon as they were in easy range of my gun.
Having a "Spencer carbine," with which I could throw seven balls
without stopping to load, I could have brought a number of them
down before they reached us. I knew that if they realized that I
was ready and watching for them, they would not be so likely to
venture
forth, for they would expect some of their number to get hurt.
In this way we traveled several miles, but saw no more of them. I
still think, however, that if I had been altogether off my guard
they would have given us trouble. With the Indians, the murderers,
horse-thieves, prostitutes, and drunkards, this country was a hell
to live in. It was a good place to make money, and we did a
satisfactory business; but I could not consent to stay there and
throw myself away, just for the sake of making money. So we quit
burning lime, and moved down to Cheyenne City, intending to start
for home in a few weeks.
Not being quite ready to start for home when
quitting the lime business, I left my wife in the city--which by
this time had grown to be a good-sized place--and made a trip
across the first chain of the Black Hills to the Laramie plains,
taking a load of hardware for a ranchman, the freight of which
brought me about fifteen dollars. The first night out we camped in
a deep cañon in the hills, leaving our loaded wagons in the
road on top of the hills. Having no tent with us, we camped on the
ground in the open air, with the heavens for a covering, and
the hills for a shelter from the blast. It was October, and the
winds were cold and piercing. Covering ourselves with good, warm
blankets, we slept soundly until morning, when, on awaking, we
found about three inches of snow on our bed, which had helped to
keep us warm. Making the round trip without any trouble, I found
Mrs. Wells waiting and anxious to be off for home, and we
determined to start in a few days.
Before leaving, I must give a brief sketch of
this wild country. Here are broad, high, and undulating prairies,
stretching over thousands of acres, interspersed with beautiful
streams of water. Here are high level lands, decorated with
thousands of native flowers, the most profuse of which is the
blooming cactus, growing so thickly over the ground that a dog
could hardly pass through because of the long, sharp thorns which,
when in bloom, are lovely to behold. The grass at this time of the
year is very short and dry; but it is so wonderfully nutritious
that it keeps the cattle in good condition all the year round. The
soil is sufficiently rich to produce an abundant harvest of corn
or wheat if
properly supplied with moisture; because of the dry weather few
things will grow without irrigation. There are cool streams of
water flowing through this parched land, that are very inviting to
the weary and thirsty traveler. At many places in the mountains
crystal springs may be seen gurgling from the rocks, affording a
refreshing draught at every season of the year. Near our limekiln
was a high ledge of rock, from which we could look down into a
little, clear, rippling stream, more than a hundred feet below, as
it dashed down the mountain on its errand of mercy somewhere in
the valley far away. This bright waterfall burst from a rock not
more than two hundred yards above our camp. Some of these streams
go leaping from rocks in the mountain side, hurry on a short
distance over the surface, then plunge into the earth, only to
burst into a fountain of water from a rock in another place. Thus
they creep on their way, to water the brier and the thorn by their
sides, and slake the thirst of the withering flower that sips from
their fountains.
On the mountains the scenery is picturesque,
enchantingly beautiful, and wondrous to behold.
Climbing far up among the craggy hills, you
can look down in the valley, thousands of feet below, where grow
the ripening berries, and where hundreds of flowers are blooming
in the warm sunshine. Then turning your eyes to the west, you
behold the snow-covered mountain ranges, presenting the appearance
of midwinter. Some of these snow-covered mountains are
seventy-five or a hundred miles away, though, when they first
loomed up in front of us, as we went toward the hills, they
appeared to be not more than fifteen miles distant. Turning in
another direction, in the distance may be seen scores of mountains
proudly lifting their lofty peaks far above the hills around them,
presenting the appearance of a large stackyard of wheat, where the
stacks are round and run up to a sharp point.
As you stand gazing at this scene, possibly
you may discover an approaching rain-cloud, and, as it draws near,
it may seem to be on a level with you--neither higher nor
lower--but as it settles in the mountains, you look far down
below, and there the dark cloud hangs and is emptied into the
valley. Beneath your feet are
lightnings and thunder, but cast your eyes to the sky above,
and not a cloud is to be seen.
Here are rocks of all forms and sizes--some
in their formative state, while others are fast crumbling and
falling to pieces. I have seen rocks, once large and standing far
above the surface of the earth, that have crumbled and fallen off
on the outside to such an extent that, in the distance, they had
the appearance of large men standing among the other rocks.
The above pictures are not imaginary, but
such as I have witnessed with my own eyes.
To return to my story. It was now late in the
season, and we were about five hundred miles from home, with cold
weather coming on. But we must go, though it was no small
undertaking to make such a trip with a team, especially in cold
weather. Having nothing but our camping outfit to carry, we put a
small sheet-iron stove in the wagon, that we might have fire all
the time, if necessary; then Mrs. Wells and I turned our faces
homeward, leaving Richard in the Black Hills. Finding an outfit of
ten or fifteen men going our way, we felt quite safe in
traveling; for by this time the Indians had ceased hostilities
on the line of the railroad. Gathering bark and chips for fuel as
we passed along, we were enabled to keep warm both night and day.
Mrs. Wells frequently prepared the meals while traveling, and when
the outfit stopped at noon we had our dinner ready. I shot a duck
one forenoon; it was dressed and cooked while on the march, and
ready for our dinner by noon. One day, while traveling some
distance in advance of the other wagons, we saw a group of
antelopes a few hundred yards away. As there were no prospects of
getting any nearer, I fired into them, hardly expecting to hit
one; but at the crack of the gun one fell to the ground. It was a
pop-shot, as we called it; for I aimed at no particular one, but
fired at the bunch as they stood together. Strapping our game
behind the wagon, we went on, with meat enough to last the company
several days. All the way east the weather was pleasant and the
roads good, and our homeward march a delightful trip. During the
trip there was some freezing weather, but being comfortably housed
in our wagon, it did not inconvenience us. We reached home in
good spirits, exceedingly glad to have left the dark shadows of
an uncivilized country, once more to sit in the sunshine of a
civilized community. We were absent from home about six months,
all of which time we lived in our wagon and tent, and were inside
of a house but a few times during our absence.
After returning from our Western trip, we
took a homestead on an eighty-acre piece of land in Jefferson
County, on Cub Creek, and bought forty acres adjoining, which gave
us a nice start in the world. As there was no house on the place,
the first thought was to build one. Having no money for the
purpose, the work must be done with my own hands, and the house
must be built of the native material growing on the land. A
sufficient number of logs were cut and drawn together on the,
building spot. The body of the house was composed of round logs,
laid up and notched together, forming a building about six feet
high and eighteen feet square. After the body of the house was up,
it was left for a short time unfinished. On returning to complete
the job, I found that the prairie-fire had broken out in the
neighborhood, and burned
12
the foundation logs so much as to ruin them for further use. A
few new logs were secured, and, all alone, so far as human help
was concerned, I took down that house and rebuilt it in one day,
though the logs were so heavy that it would have taken at least
six men to carry them. This is the way I did it: Getting two long
poles (skids), and laying one end of them on the logs that were in
place for the body of the house, and the other end on the ground,
a way was made for rolling the logs to their place one at a time.
To put them in the right position was impossible for one man by
main strength alone. Bringing my team into service, it did the
lifting of those heavy timbers. The team was put on the side of
the foundation opposite the log to be rolled up, a long rope was
wound around the log several times; then the team was hitched to
the end of the rope, and made to roll the log where I wanted it.
After the body of the house was up, then came the roof, which was
made of poles, straw, and dirt. The cracks between the logs
composing the body of the house were first filled with chinking,
and then daubed with clay from the natural soil. A rough floor
of native lumber was laid, giving its quite a comfortable
house. At least we thought so at that time.
The reader may want to know something of our
furniture. Soon after we were married, one of the neighboring
women asked some of our friends in what city we intended to buy
our furniture. I thought, "Furniture? We need nothing of the kind.
A few boards for a table, a few poles for a bedstead, and a couple
of nail-kegs to sit on, is all the furniture needed in such a
happy home as ours." just as well ask a millionaire what sod-house
he is going to occupy as to ask a backwoodsman where he is going
to buy his furniture.
During the summer of 1869, Mrs. Wells's
health suddenly began to give way, and it was plain to be seen
that she was being hurried to the grave by that dreadful disease,
quick consumption. As the flower is withered by the deadly stroke
of the untimely frost, so this once strong and active woman was
fast withering beneath the stroke of the dire disease. We did all
in our power to arrest it; but on it swept, like an angry wave,
and her health rapidly declined.
From the first the doctors seemed to cherish
but little hope of her recovery; but it hardly seemed possible
that she could be taken from us so soon. She thought that, in her
dreams, she was warned that death was not far away. As she related
to me her night visions, she seemed to think that they were
messages from God, that she might know of her early departure from
this world; therefore she was not surprised when the summons
came.
On the twentieth day of December, 1869, she
grew much worse, and realized that her time on earth was numbered
by hour, only. We at once called her friends to her bedside to bid
her farewell ere she crossed the stream of death. She was
perfectly rational to the last, told of her prospects, that all
was well; then said to me, "Take the babe and raise her yourself,
and teach her to read the Bible, which is best of all." After
giving instructions about the baby she requested some one to sing.
During the singing, she raised her hands and praised the Lord.
Soon after the singing ceased, she closed her eyes on earth to
open them in heaven. On the 21St Of December, 1869, her happy soul
quietly fell
asleep in Jesus, leaving me with a motherless child about
twenty-one months old. 0 what a blow to my earthly prospects! In
this hour I could only look to the Lord for help and comfort.
- My cherished hopes are now all gone;
- My bosom friend hath flown,
- To find and wear her golden crown,
- And left me all alone.
- No, not alone; my babe is here
- No mother's love to know,
- And I must live its heart to cheer
- While struggling here
below.
No one knows the sorrow of a heart thus
smitten but he who has tasted of the bitter cup. Among the most
heartrending scenes in all my life is that of little children left
without a mother; and yet, in the course of nature, these things
must be.
© 2001 for NEGenWeb by Pam Rietsch, Ted &
Carole Miller
