The Peaceful Solomon Valley

My Home    As Related By: Jane Willis Jones

Forward by: Mildred Almeda Jones Nicholson (1986)

Posted here by a "Step" great great grandson, who is a lover of family history.
 

I shall strive to put together a short story relating to the family of John Martin Jones - Jane Martha Willis. It is my pleasure to bring you this summary from notes, stories, pictures, and factual material relative to this golden era in the development and early history of Kansas, the Solomon Valley and precisely Ottawa County.

Heading West

Due to the political strife and discontent of the anti-slavery movement and the talk of "Civil War" in the South, my husband and I, then living in Georgia, accepted our fair share of his father's holdings and headed West for a more secure, peaceful and contented life. His father at the time was a large plantation owner and had many slaves. We had eight children and his mother offered to give us as many slaves to help me with the housework if we would stay in Georgia. Martin and I were both very much opposed to slavery, feeling it was morally wrong and we were bitterly opposed to it's general principles. We got several wagons ready and Martin took his part of the estate in money, ox teams, cattle and horses. He hired several young white men for help on the road and we loaded up our belongings and eight children and headed West, initially for Texas.

We both knew that when we left Georgia that our lives would be much different. His position as music director would have to give over to the rugged life in the West. Homesteading would include many hazards of coping with nature in the raw, the Indians, desperadoes and freebooters. However, the call to "go West" and the thrill of the wide open spaces, peace, and political freedom knew no bounds. It was a long, dusty road, making camp at night and early on the road the next day. After several weeks, averaging from 20 to 30 miles per day on a good day, we finally arrived at what we considered "a Paradise".

When leaving Georgia we thought Texas might be the answer to our quest, but after encountering several parties and travelers on the road we had been advised that Texas was as hot on the free-slave issue as Georgia had been. After crossing the state of Arkansas for the most part, we camped for the night at a "big spring". It was right on the main road and was a nice improved farm with a good house, nice barn and outbuildings, an orchard, good land, all fenced with oak rails and the big spring of pure, crystal cold water. Everything considered, this just seemed to be our "dream house". The owner wanted to sell and after talking it over, we decided to no farther. The deal was closed and we settled for what we thought was "for life" in Arkansas.

However, the political war-pot was simmering in Arkansas as well as Georgia and Texas. We hadn't been there very long when we found ourselves hearing more and more of the reality of Civil War. Before realizing it, our home being on the main road, the big spring for water and oak rail fences for fuel made an ideal camping place for the armies of both the North and the South coming along every few days. They tore down and burnt fences, camped in the fields, destroyed all crops, killed and ate all cattle, sheep, hogs, and poultry. I asked the old Colonel to please spare me my prize ram, so we could use him for breeding purposes. He turned around and, laughing heartily, shot him dead right in front of my eyes.

The last bit of provisions on the place was taken by that Union officer that came along with a big army and camped in the field and came to the house and told me to unlock my smokehouse door, that he needed the food for his soldiers. We had flour, meal, hams, bacon, lard, fruit and vegetables. He called his men and they cleaned it out completely. We had nothing left to eat and a bunch of hungry kids to feed. I had a few sacks of cornmeal hid under the floor and we had to live on that for the next several weeks. The officer gave me a receipt for what they had taken and told me to sent it in and I would be reimbursed for it, but I never did get my money. I shall never forget that old Colonel. A few years later, I met him on the main street of Salina, Kansas. I crossed the street to avoid talking to him. He came across the street and offered his hand and apologized, saying, "Remember, Mrs. Jones, that was war". I guess he hadn't forgotten me either.

The Getaway

At the time of the aforementioned incident, I was alone as some two weeks previous, a gang of men came to our home, about twenty-five in all. They told Martin that they were organized to protect homes and property and the community in general. They made it compulsory that any man they asked to join up, would be expected to join them at once. They were all strangers, but he had heard of them as robbers and murderers, riding over the state looking for good horses, money and other valuables, killing any man that came in their way. They told Martin that he must join them at once. It was noon. Martin laughed and joked with them and told them they looked hungry. He offered them a noon-day meal and asked them to put their horses in the barnyard and feed and water them, which they readily agreed to do. Due to his kindness and jovial way and telling them he had some business to attend to, and would have to have a little time before leaving home to go with them, they said they would be back after him in about three days and that he must then be ready to go with them. The gang went, that same evening, to a farm house about five miles away, after dark, killed the man, robbed the house and stole their horses. The next day before we had heard anything of the gang's doings of the night before, three of the gang came back to our house for Martin. They ate dinner and fed their horses again and told Martin that he must had to go with them at once. Martin told them that he must have a little more time, that he hadn't expected them back so soon, that they had told him the day before that he had three days. The leader said it didn't matter what they had told him, that they had given him too much time already and that he would have to go with them now and "damned quick".

Martin knew that it would mean death if they caught him again and he began getting ready to leave the country. He saddled the only riding horse he had left on the farm and quickly disappeared into the timberland. When darkness fell he hid his horse in the brush at the back of the field and walked across to the house. He was going to help bury a large box of silverware and other valuables we had brought out with us. Most of our valuables were wedding presents. He did not think that they would be back after him that night, but before he could get the valuables out of the house the gang came riding in the front gate. Martin ran out the back door, out through the orchard and escaped. They searched the house and barn, and took all the valuables and silverware and cursed because they couldn't find Martin. Their leader says, "Come on, men, let's go, we'll get him yet."

Martin rode nights and hid in the timber and brush in the daytime to get out to Springfield, Missouri, where the Federal troops were holding the country, and helped in making demand for the government to send teams with a detachment of soldiers under a white flag to move out all the Union families from that part of Arkansas where we were living.

He had been gone many weeks without hearing from him. With the sound of the cannons and guns we realized we were in the thick of the battle. Wounded soldiers were everywhere. We helped those that we could, but for others we were too late. There were soldiers from both the North and the South at our doorstep. Later it was known as the Battle of Pea Ridge and Prairie Grove. The Confederates lost the battle and retreated. Then came the Union soldiers again. By the end of 1862 most of Arkansas was in Union hands.

Several different rebel armies had camped overnight at our place using fence rails for fires and destroying everything they could and yet no word from Martin. We were living in constant fear that the marauders had caught up with him as they had threatened. The children and I were in destitute circumstances. We were living on practically nothing. It was winter time and the children were so brave and helpful through it all. Little Ellen was not 18 months old, as yet, with the usual children's ailments and another one soon to be born, it was a constant chore to keep everyone on his feet. We survived that winter mostly on corn meal mush, from the cornmeal I had hidden under the floor, and some milk which the good neighbor back over the hill shared with us. If we were lucky, Johnny and Turner would bring in a rabbit or a squirrel once in awhile. We had some honey, as the soldiers didn't seem too anxious to fool with the bees. There were constant skirmishes - men in and out of uniform. We couldn't tell who were soldiers and who weren't. At that point the uniform didn't make a lot of difference. Just because he was in uniform didn't tell us a whole lot. It would be difficult to say where he had acquired it from either the North or the South. There were all kinds of scalawags going through.

During that winter I had helped the neighbor over the hill deliver her baby. Then shortly she helped me with the arrival of our little Susan. Finally, at last, a detachment of U.S. soldiers came carrying a white flag with a train of covered wagons they had picked up. They camped for the night at our place. Among the soldiers were two that knew Martin and brought word of him. They helped us get up a team of our own. We still had a two-horse wagon left on the farm and some harness we had kept hidden under the floor of the house.

Our two soldier friends managed some way to rustle an old mule and an old gray horse and fit the harness to them. The wagon was covered and ready to drive in line when the early morning call came to "march". I was up all night getting things in the wagon that I didn't want to leave behind, including the family Bible, the spinning wheel and loom, the sewing machine, cooking utensils, school books and what few things we would need for mere survival along the way. The wagons started rolling at daybreak. I grabbed the little ones in their nightclothes and away from the breakfast table, still steaming from the pot; and climbing into the wagon, we all headed out.

Those who had their own wagons could take more of their personal belongings. The families in the government wagons could take only their clothing and bedding. They had government rations with the wagon train which consisted of coffee, bacon and hardtack. The hardtack was about the size of a dinner plate and about one inch thick and so hard it was very difficult to bite. The only way it could be eaten was to soak it in hot coffee or hot water. It wasn't much of a ration for children.

It seemed like weeks before we finally arrived at Springfield, where the government had issued every family a small tent and camped them on a flat piece of ground. There were many difficulties in this "tent city" which covered about ten acres. During the first night a big wind and a rain storm came and blew the tents all down. It was a very bad storm and when it was over we were all in a foot of water and about frozen to death. The beds were all on the ground and the bedding was soaked and no dry place to pitch our tents. The women and children were drenched, many of the children, along with some adults, were crying and wailing the rest of the night. When daybreak came and the clouds rolled away - the sun came out- there were several hundred women and children wading around in the mud and no place to spread out their clothing and bedding to dry.

Martin met us there at Springfield - the first time we had seen him since the night he escaped from the murdering gang at the farm in Arkansas. Since that time we had a new member in the family and the little ones had all grown considerably. It was quite a reunion to say the least. It was certainly an answer to many prayers. God had been good to us as we were all so thankful to be back together again. Martin insisted on going on West right away to find a more comfortable and convenient place to call home. He soon bought another wagon and team since we were so overloaded. With all the children and myself, I had piled everything I thought I could possibly carry along. We started down the road with the two wagons, averaging about 20 to 30 miles per day. It was all the old mule and the old gray horse could do to keep up with the new team of horses and wagon.

We finally arrived at Atchison, Kansas. The issue of the slave-free state was at it's hottest, so we by-passed Topeka and Lawrence, keeping a in northerly direction, hoping to be more secure. No battle smoke ever rose above a field of conflict that so darkened the earth and sky, as filled Kansas during her struggle for freedom. At that time, Kansas was known as the "great bloody battle ground" for the struggle between slavery and freedom. It seemed that, instead of getting farther away from the conflict, things just rapidly and gradually worsened, and we drove right into it with our eyes wide open.

We soon realized that we would be safer away from the Missouri border, as the raiders, bushwhackers, and guerilla forces were taking a heavy toll on human life and property in that area. We temporarily rented a house in Atchison until Martin could do some scouting further West for a more permanent abode. Martin and Johnny, our oldest son, then twelve years of age, started for Junction City, as the rumors were flying that there was a lot of promising homestead land, plenty of buffalo, lush growth and grazing land, on West. There they met with some men that were going buffalo hunting in the same area where they were heading. They found the Solomon Valley to be all they had anticipated, about sixty miles northwest of Junction City. They found plenty of buffalo and in a short time, killed and loaded their wagons with buffalo meat, located a homestead and picked out a building place in a fertile bend of the Solomon River. On their way back they peddled buffalo meat from Junction City to Atchison, dealing mostly at Fort Riley.

The discovery of gold in Colorado in 1858 had started a mass migration West. Many started but there were practically no roads west of Salina and very little wood and water. The Indians further west were also a greater threat. Many hardships were endured and many died from exposure and starvation. Martin liked the Solomon Valley and was about as far west as he cared to take the family. On his way back to Atchison he had rented a small house in Junction City. We immediately moved there, temporarily, while Martin and Johnny went back to the Solomon Valley to build a house stockade before summer came.

The Indians were not likely to give trouble during the cold weather, but they would surely be after us in the summertime. In those days the tribes that gave the most trouble were usually the Sioux and the Cheyenne. They raided the country heavy in the summer and made life uncertain for homesteaders and buffalo hunters, but when cold weather came they would go into winter quarters down in the Oklahoma Territory.

Building of Fort Solomon

Martin made a dugout to live in temporarily there on the Solomon River until they could get the stockade built. Our cabin was one of the first completed and we proceeded to move in that summer. There the first campfire was lighted and there the longed-for home of freedom and security was established. There I vowed to make my home for the rest of my life. When he came for us we had about twenty head of cattle and sheep which we had brought along the way from Atchison. Our whole family was in a "tizzy". We were going to get our first look at the Solomon Valley, our new home. How excited we all were - the children could hardly contain themselves. We were glad for the protection of the stockade. It gave us all a sense of security. People were moving into the territory in wagons, coming on horseback, or walking, almost every week now. Some would stay and some would move on.

Among the group of men that elected to build the fort, Martin was chosen to be the captain. He and Tom Dalrymple, together with Israel Markley, Dick and Frank Reese, Abe Stull, and S.M. Wright, started the building. They dug a well by hand some thirty feet deep and ten feet across, stoning it up, and had plenty of good soft water for us all. In the beginning they had planned a fort that was nearly square, but before it was finished it had doubled in size. There were gates well barricaded on both the north and south end of the quadrangle measuring about one hundred feet east and west and nearly twice that north and south, the south gate being large enough to drive a team and wagon. We named it "Fort Solomon".

Between the cabins were set rows of oak posts sharpened at the top. The doors of the cabins all opened on the inside of the enclosure. There were small windows on the outside and portholes between the logs and posts through which the settlers could fire their rifles. The space inside the stockade would accommodate twelve teams and wagons as well. One cabin was used for a school on week days and for a church on Sundays. As more people kept coming to stay, a new building in the center of the stockade was built for the school and a family occupied the former cabin. Later, as time went on, ninety-five people lived in the stockade at one time. People came from as far north as Delphos and Glasco when the Indians were on the warpath. in '68 and again in '70. We all learned to improvise, cooking over an open fire. The larger cabins had fireplaces. One way or another we all got thru that first winter, sharing everything we had.

After the burning of Lawrence, more people came west in a hurry. Buffalo at that time was abundant. The grass and water made them fat and provided us with the best hams and sirloins we had ever tasted. There was a good market for the meat at Junction City and Fort Riley. The market on hides was averaging about $4.00 to $4.50 apiece, so we thought we had "hit it rich" for sure.

When the Indians would get on the warpath our biggest fear was that they might come a thousand or two at a time and lay siege on the Fort, either burning us out or rushing us and making a mass massacre of the whole lot of us. Every man, woman, boy or girl, big enough, had to learn how to load guns and fire six-shooters. The government furnished us with a large supply of guns and ammunition and one cannon. Tom Dalrymple had a fife and drum that anyone could play good enough to suit the occasion. He called out the entire population of the Fort quite regularly to march to the music with guns on shoulders and wheeled the cannon outside the fort and fired it off several times, each time firing a volley from all the guns. That was done to make the Indians that were within hearing distance think that we could shoot, were anxious to fight and could take care of them at any time. Matilda and Lettie were as good with the guns as the boys were. The women that could, would all join in any of these drills.

The Indians made raids on the settlers to get their horses. They would go in small numbers during the night below the settlement and steal and bunch together as many horses as they could and at daybreak they would start driving as many horses as they could at breakneck speed as fast as their horses could run. Since there were no fences at that time, most of the horses were tied on a long rope. When the Indians drove their stolen horses by in a run, yelling and screaming, it would scare the tethered horses so badly that they would break loose and run with them.

Some of the Residents of Fort Solomon

Sam Bass (Boss) from the East
Ingersoll family from the East
Scheltonbrand from St. Joseph, Mo.
Martin Jones family from Georgia
Thomas Dalrymple from Illinois
Abe Stull family from Ohio
John Boblitt family from Illinois
Israel Markely family from Illinois
Frank & Dick Reese from Ohio
David Mortimer & bachelor from Scotland
George Stratton bachelor from Scotland
Bruces
(a widow & family) from Iowa
Sam Wright family from Iowa
H.S. Woodin family from Illinois
Noah Bass family from Illinois
Jacob Yockey family from the East
Humbarger family from Iowa
Grandma Bass & family
(Boss) from the East

At times - when the Indians were on the rampage there were as high as 95 people living with the walls of the stockade.

Stealing White Women

 

Times were rough for many people getting started on their homesteads. The Indians made a raid on the whole frontier settlement from the Smoky Hill to Nebraska, concentrating mainly on the Smoky Hill , the Saline, and Solomon valleys. Benjamin White, further north on White's Creek was killed and his daughter carried captive. Jennie Paxton was teaching school on the present town site of Glasco, up north of Delphos and they attacked her and her pupils. They all hid in an old cave except one boy, son of Capt. H. C. Snyder, who made a stand to protect the rest of them until they got hidden in a cave. He was shot with an arrow and left for dead. He was seriously wounded, but later recovered.

About this same time a farm settler was out plowing in his field near Delphos. His name was Morgan and just recently married. The Indians took his horses, but Morgan, wounded, managed to crawl into a clump of willows near the river and hide. Morgan's wife heard the shooting and arming herself with a revolver, mounted a horse and started to the aid of her husband. The Indians circled her and after she fired the last shot from her revolver, captured her. The Indians let Mr. Morgan go, but took his horses and tied his wife to one of them, turning her horse loose in the drive bunch. Away they went as fast as the horses could run with Mrs. Morgan on one of them. Mrs. Morgan remained with them as captive for about two and one-half years. She was held in the same tribe and ruled by the same chief as Miss White who was captured earlier.

It was mid-winter in Oklahoma where General Carr was camped and knowing that this Indian Chief had two white women as slaves in his tribe, managed to get the Chief to come to his camp to talk treaty terms, then told him that he was holding two white women prisoners and that he must surrender them before any peace terms could be talked. The Chief denied having white women in his tribe, but General Carr knew through some spying that had been going on that the Chief's statements were not true. The Chief had brought a lot of his warriors with him. The Chief and General Carr had been talking several hours and by now it was midday when the General told the Chief he would hold him prisoner if he did not return the two white women. By the time the sun was one hour high he would have a rope put around his neck and have him hung to a tree nearby. The Chief then gave the orders to his men to bring the women in and when it was almost time for the hanging, the white women came into General Carr's camp. They proved to be Mrs. Morgan and Miss White.

The white women could hardly be recognized as being white. They had been exposed to all kinds of weather so long with only scant clothing and made to do drudgery work, packing wood on their backs, many times from long distances, herding horses, chopping wood in the winter time, and cottonwood brouse for the horses, and keeping holes in the ice to water them. Every time they moved camp the lodges had to all be taken down and built up again. That was the work these two women had to do, painted and dressed as the poorest squaw, and whipped and beaten by the Indian squaws. After returning to her husband, Mrs. Morgan never regained her health. It was later recorded that she gave birth to an Indian baby and they both died.

On one of the trips with meat and hides, two of our neighbors, the Muffett brothers were killed. There were always at least two to a wagon and usually two wagons or more when these trips were made. They had to be well armed and ready for any kind of skirmish.

Our First Wedding

 

In January of '65 plans were being made for the first wedding in our new settlement. Tillie, our oldest daughter, was going to marry Dan Bruce, our neighbor's son. They had been friends since their first meeting in the stockade. When he came home from active duty they were inseparable. Theirs was the first wedding in the County and in Fort Solomon. The wedding vows were given by the Justice of the Peace, Mr. Tom Dalrymple, after which they planned to remain in the county and continue farming. The following year our first grandchild arrived. Little Mary was an adorable big blue-eyed baby girl, such a contented, good baby.....so precious.

In the winter of '65 - '66 we lost a lot of sheep. It was a long hard winter and we didn't have enough shed and bedding. I brought my spinning wheel with us when we came to the valley. We would spin the yarn from either the long hair of the buffalo shoulders or from our own sheep, whatever was available at the time. Eventually we got flax to grow and we had some fine linen, but of course it didn't compare to the imported Irish linens we had brought from home. Most usually in the winter time the girls and I would sit and knit sox for the whole family. It was a good way to spend a lot of long evenings when the snow was on the ground. We used tallow candles for light when we couldn't get oil for the lamps.

After getting the wool thru the spinning wheel we would dye the yarn, using walnuts to dye the brown, sumac berries for the reds, and dandelion leaves for the green. The washing and dying would also pre-shrink the yarn and the finished sox, gloves, caps, mufflers, sweaters, mittens, etc. would keep their size. Sometimes we would also dye unbleached muslin for curtains in our home and once in awhile we would dip a light dress to brighten it up. The girls usually had two dresses apiece, one to wear white the other was being washed. We washed each one carefully by hand so they would wear longer. The girls got to be artists with the needle. Elen was a seamstress from the beginning, and was never happier than when she was making a new dress. After we got the new range we would heat the flat irons and ironing was much easier for us for special occasions. When the girls came home from school the dress had to be changed if there was anything to change to. If not, they would tuck their dresses at the waistline to keep from getting them soiled while doing their chores. The older ones helped outside with the livestock and the little ones stayed in the house and helped me.

Martin made shoes for the family for several years out of buffalo and cow hides. For a family the size of ours, there was always new shoes to be made, or the repair of some old ones. Nothing was ever discarded, just mended and passed on to the next one as they grew out of them. Finally in later years a shoe store was opened in Minneapolis and it was easier to get shoes when we needed them, but it was a little late to help whem my children were all at home.

In the summer of '65 we had corn planted and coming along fine with ears tassling out, when hordes of grasshoppers cam in like clouds, making a shadow between us and the sun. Anything edible was gone, even the bard off the trees. What garden stuff we hadn't already gotten in was gone, slick and clean. They were a menace to every living thing. They would hit a patch of corn or grain and it would be gone in a few hours. They left eggs that hatched out later and gave us another round. There was no way to protect ourselves. Between the locusts, deer and buffalo, we had a constant battle. We could build a fence for the animals but no one could do anything about the grasshoppers.

After surviving that summer and with the help of some provisions from the government, Governor Osborn called a special session and granted $70,000 to help some of the needy and destitute families in the area thru the winter, everyone was looking forward to a better year in '66. We were here to break the sod and plant the grain. Mother nature smiled on us that year. The grain turned out well, and the gardens grew abundantly. On the river the wild grapes, choke cherries, gooseberries, and wild plums were found everywhere. Martin had been busy every chance he got, digging the well and them the cellar for our new home. When fall came he stored many pumpkins, potatoes and other vegetables in the cellar and covered it with straw and dirt. He had lots of good help from the boys and the neighbors. They cut logs and made ready to build the new log house as soon as the weather was fit, come Spring. In July, that summer, sister Barbara (Willis-Coleman) was married to Robert Bruce by Samuel Z. Boss, Justice of the Peace. I was so happy as they were going to be farming the land adjacent to our home. Also that same day, Sarah Bruce and William Yockey were married at Fort Solomon. She was sister Barbara's husband's sister and brother-in-law. Even though it was an exceptionally warm day - a lot of celebrating took place. Everyone took time out for the festivities.

Our New Home

 

We were all outgrowing our cabins in the stockade, getting restless to get into a house. We also had grown more fearless, knowing that if need be, we could return to the fort at any time for protection. When Spring came our house went up in a hurry. Then later two more rooms were added. We got shingles and what lumber we needed from Salina. In another year or so, everyone was building something as Lindsey soon had our own Lumber Yard. All the neighbors pitched in to help each other when anyone decided to build.

We moved in that summer, and what a joy - over twice as much room as we had in the stockade, before we added the extra two rooms. We had a dirt floor for a couple of years but it was as hard as clay and not any trouble. Up until now we had all been cooking over an open fire or in the fireplace. When we moved into the new house we got a new Homestead range from Junction City which was a premium in those days. Cooking for the family was so much easier and we had hot water in the reservoir at the side of the stove all the time. We still did our washing outside and boiled our white clothes in the big iron kettle out there. We made lye soap out the of the fat and the cracklins. Our white clothes always looked nice. We had two tubs and a washboard and plenty of good soft water.

Up the road a half-mile S. B. and Lavine Chapman were digging their cellar for their new house. They decided to build a house of brick and put it over the cellar. This was the first brick house in Ottawa County. The first kiln of brick in Ottawa County was burned in 1868 about one-half mile below Lindsey Creek bridge. He and Martin always exchanged work. Martin helped him lay his stone in both the well and his cellar. They had a nice home when they were finished.

By this time several buildings were showing up outside the fort. Several residences, Dicky Knight's blacksmith shop, Hollingsworth's store and shed and the Potter Hotel, which was the original stage hotel between Solomon and Beloit, constituted the town of Lindsey. As a county we were estimated to have a population count of about 500. Governor Sam Crawford received Seymour Ayers petition to request it to be organized as a county. In turn the Governor gave consent and appointed A. J. Willis, Henry Dresher, and Amassa May as the first county commissioners, with J. H. Ingersoll as the first County Clerk and made Ayersbur, now Lindsey, the first County Seat. Later, in a public election, Markley's Mill won with the most votes and the County Seat was moved to Minneapolis.

Coming Of The Railroad

 

In 1867, the Kansas Pacific Railroad was completed to Abilene. That town was known as the wildest wooliest city in the West. It had no municipal government, no police force, no city jail. The men in our settlement cared little to go there. It was the end of the Chisholm Trail and was overrun by all kinds of crooks, gamblers, and racketeers. Dozens of cowboys, who after a long ride on the trail with thousands of longhorns, would come in and "whoop it up" and "shoot up" the town. By 1870 it was estimated that 150,000 Texas longhorns were driven from Texas over the trail to Abilene for shipment. Thousands of dollars changed hands at the gambling tables and saloons in a single night. The "loose" women were supposed to have had a colony of their own. With guns roaring, there were many days it wasn't safe on the street and no decent woman would be caught out at night.

By the same token, many good people came too, as in any other area of new settlers. The River Brethren came from Pennsylvania to settle in the County and the Baptist church was built in 1868 in town. Soon a Catholic church and the little town had extended to the north side of the track and a better class of residents, merchants, lawyers, doctors, mechanics, and educators took over. Tom Smith had been appointed Marshall and was making them all check their guns when they came into town. It was a town of "bad men" and the law man laid his life on the line. Later Wild Bill Hickok replaced Tom Smith. The railroad was heading on West and with it went the cattle shipping centers. We, here in the valley were more interested in Salina as a trading center as it was much closer, and were still happier when the Solomon Valley Railroad Branch was built from Solomon to Beloit in 1876. It was a great contribution to opening up the valley, speeding the mail service with passenger accommodations which was second only to the shipment of our cattle and grain. The stockyards were built and later came the grain elevator. With the railroad came loads of lumber and hardware and building supplies.

Junction City, Abilene, Solomon and Salina were all growing by leaps and bounds. Crews of men were building the railroad on West. As soon as the railroad would hit these little towns, log huts would give way to frame buildings in a short time. Hotels, Boarding Houses, Dry Goods and General Merchandise stores and saloons offering the nightly entertainment would instantly spring up, but most important were the doctors and medical supplies.

When we first moved into the stockade we had mail picked up at Solomon City, earlier called Bruce City, about once a week on horseback. Seymour Ayers used his house not only as a home, but as a small store and post office. It was just a little one-room cabin. The post office was a box nailed on the wall. We all looked forward to hearing from home. If we were lucky we would get a letter out from back home in about two weeks. Seymour Ayers acted as an information center, taking refuge with the fort any time there was an Indian scare.

Mr. Ayers was also instrumental in getting the first Evangelist out from Junction City to help establish the first and only Sunday School and Church in Ottawa County. The original organization of the first Methodist Church had for it's charter members: Seymour and Margaret Ayers, Jesse and Amanda Richards, J.E. and Jane Carson, S.B. and Lavina Chapman, and Martin and Jane Jones. The ten of us would take turns boarding any Evangelist or minister of faith that came our way. The children enjoyed the Sunday School classes and the social activities that followed. Martin, being a song master and choir director, headed up the group singing and kept them all happy.

The babies were coming along on each side of the river and I was busy helping at those occasions. There was no doctor for miles, the closest being in Junction City, and, although Dr. Bruce's family was still in the valley, he had gone to his heavenly home the winter before we arrived in the valley. It wasn't anything to have a knock on the door in the middle of the night and ride horseback over to one of the neighbors for the welcoming of the new arrival. McClellan Wright was the first child born in Fort Solomon on May 28, 1865. Then Grant Dalrymple, both being fine big boys. We were always in fear of an epidemic, especially when there were so many in such a small enclosure in the stockade. If one child got something, they all had it for it would make its rounds. I was indeed fortunate in having worked and studied with my two brothers who had medical training. The knowledge really came in handy at times. However out here with little medication available, we had to make do with what we had and say a lot of prayers. For sore throats and deep chest colds with the children, it was always a hot foot bath and some warm turpentine and lard on the throat and chest covered by a good wool cloth. Usually by morning they were much better. Goose grease was preferred rather than lard, but it was harder to come by. We always had a little peppermint for the colic and everyone had sassafras tea in the Spring to thin the blood. When the rhubarb and lambs quarter and the dandelion greens came on in the spring, they were included in our menu, and goodness knows there was plenty. Now food seemed more plentiful. There were mulberries, gooseberries, wild grapes, choke cherries and wild plums galore, all up and down the river. We had raised our pumpkins, squash, potatoes, turnips, etc. The boys would go hunting and bring back some quail, prairie chicken, rabbits, turtle doves, fish. Turner loved to fish. He was in the height of his glory when he could bring in a 20-lb river cat. Andy would always go along to help.

We rendered our own lard and made soap from the cracklins. In later years we got a sausage stuffer - cleaned the casings and had link sausage that we smoked together with the hams and bacon. Beef was too precious to butcher so we relied mostly on buffalo and pork. The cows were kept to milk and cream. The girls were always busy churning butter in the big stone churn. They would take turns so they didn't get so tired. We would let the milk "stand" in earthen crocks overnight - skim the cream off and then hang it in the well to keep cool. We would churn about every third day when the cows were fresh. We would bake bread about every other day, using the fresh sugar starter.

After we got the range we would make hot cakes in the morning. This made the bread last a little longer. We still had a lot of fried cornmeal mush in the winter time, and I still like it with cream and sugar, cooked in a double boiler. It made a good evening meal. If we were lucky we would have a little honey or molasses for the hot cakes or hot biscuits. In the spring we would always put out a big garden. Some years we had lots of garden stuff, other times we worked all summer and had very little out of it. Everyone shared what they had with their neighbors. It wasn't long until we all had a goodly supply of asparagus, rhubarb, winter onions, and horseradish, and last but not least, the flowers. It was surprising how quickly the homemaker would share her iris bulbs, lilac roots, poppies, trumpet vine, roses, and, her many varieties of house plants. Fences soon sprung up around their homes and it was a quick-changing appearance in a short time.

Threshing Our Wheat

 

At first there was no mowing machine or threshing machine for the wheat in the county, but had to use a cradle, then stack it and wait for the threshing machine to come by to get the grain. We had some nice straw which we used for bed ticking mattresses. We would empty the ticks and fill them with the new straw every fall. With the arrival of the railroad to Salina we soon had access to many things to make life a lot pleasanter. Martin was a good trader and could dicker with the best of them. We soon had a mower, a threshing machine and a two-row cultivator. That first year we threshed the wheat and kept it for the seed the following year. We sold our corn for .15 a bushel. The next year they paid us .25 for it. As soon as there was plenty of grain we raised more chickens, and then had eggs for sale, and plenty of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy.

Our youngest, Joseph Henry, was born on January 8, 1868. Lettie was a big help to me at this time and took over the household tasks while I took out a few day to recuperate. He was a fine baby boy, 10 lbs at birth, and slept most of the time. The girls all took care of him so I hardly knew there was a baby around. We all enjoyed the little newcomer. Later this same year we had to endure the saddest time of our lives. We lost our little Andy. Over night he developed a high fever. Nothing we did helped. We finally got a doctor and it was pronounced diphtheria. He was gone in a short time. Our whole family was at their depth of sorrow. Our neighbors were a great help, a great source of consolation. He was such an adorable boy and never gave anyone any trouble. We miss him so.

It was a long hot summer that year. On one of the trips to Salina, Martin brought back lumber and built the tower for the windmill. He erected the fan and hooked it on to the pump below. The cattle and sheep had fresh water all the time. We were very lucky as it was the first windmill in the county. Very seldom did we have to use the pump-handle after that. We had a garden just below the windmill so when it got too dry, we could run water down the rows of vegetables. Everything seemed to be beautiful in the garden. That afternoon the black clouds began to roll up and thunder and lightning. Then the hail came, as big as marbles. In about ten minutes there was very little left of the garden. There was a downpour of rain afterward, but the damage had been done.

Indians - Buffalo

 

On August 12, Indians came pouring into the valley and laid waste to property, stealing and burning for three days. Many went to the stockade for protection. After the big raid seemed to be quieting down, we decided to get back to normal. That morning the children and I were down at the river back of the barn picking plums. In the afternoon I had just brought two pies out of the oven. The tasty aroma from those plum pies must have wafted down the river, for soon there was a stray red man at my door. He says "me hungry, want food". I grabbed the broom, the closest thing at hand and he grabbed my wrists. He sat me down in a chair and made off with the two pies. By the time I got loose he was out of sight. The girls had all hid, scared to death that we would all be scalped. We were lucky to get out with just the loss of the two pies. Many nights Martin would sit at the door all night with gun in hand when the word came that Indians were on the warpath, while the family slept. When daylight came - then he might catch a few hours of sleep after the rest of us had gotten up for the day. Sometimes he had things to do and just didn't take time to sleep.

In January, 1872, Lettia and Frank Thom were married, so I lost my good helper. He had lived here in this county, but recently had moved to Osborne county to farm. They went there to live after the wedding. He was a very nice young man, coming here with his family from Ohio. Later he was elected Sheriff of this County and they came back here to live and make their home. I am always so glad when they can settle close by. They later left here and adopted a son Howard. He was such a nice little boy and they enjoyed him so much.

We soon planted several fruit trees and in a couple or three years we had plenty of fresh apples and peaches. When the grasshoppers came in '74 we had our young orchard started. Our whole family took turns, day and night beating the hoppers off those trees. We learned how to dry corn and make lye hominy. It came in handy for a change of menu thru the winter time. We also soaked whole grain wheat in the big iron pot with a heavy lid on it at the back of the stove, which provided a nourishing and delicious breakfast with cream and sugar for topping in the winter time.

We had many guests at our house. Some we knew and some we didn't know until they stopped by, but we were always glad to have them for over night or until they could get settled in, if they were planning to stay in the valley. We made many lifelong friends and never met a stranger.

In the late summer and fall the prairie fires were numerous and always a constant threat. The Indians would set them to burn out some of the settlers, or perhaps, sometimes the fires would get started thru negligence. Many times Martin would have to hitch up to the plow very quickly and make a backfire for protection. This could be done if you could see it coming in time.

The hills were black with buffalo and were slaughtered mercilessly by some as a sport, others for meat and hides. Later the bleached bones were picked up and shipped east by the various carbon works. The herds in the '60's were so large that vast numbers would stop the trains on the track. A hear just west of the Solomon river was so large that they came thundering in on a hot day and drank the river dry. The river was about 30 feet across and averaging about a foot deep.

Hunters expected to get at least 100 buffalo a day on an average run. The settlers survived by selling the hides and meat at Junction City and Fort Riley. In turn the wagons would return with the staples such as coffee, meal, salt, a little sugar, though it was terribly expensive, occasionally a few yards of material to make the girls a dress, etc. Frequently we would run out of coffee. We would parch some grain in the oven and grind it. This would tide us over.

While there were many dangers and hardships, there were also many happy times for every household. We all shared the same joys such as weddings, new babies, etc., abd by the same token we shared each others burdens. Dances got to be a popular amusement of the young people. The music usually consisted of a couple of violins, a flute and a Jews harp. We were all very happy when a newcomer moved in with an organ. There were a lot of good dancers that were at their happiest when dancing the Virginia Reel, the Newport, minuet, waltzes and polkas. Eugene Wright with his violin and his brother Mac on the flute were doing so were doing so well that they were in big demand and traveled around playing for all the special occasions. In summertime, baseball was the chief entertainment. Everyone watched the games if they didn't participate and we really had some good players. In the winter there was the Literary Society and everyone had an opportunity to display their home-talents. These meetings were held once a month in the school house. After any event there were always refreshments.

Later Martin dug a cistern out east of the house and cemented it up and laid four flat native stones across the top for a platform. He had gotten a cistern pump earlier so that was installed as soon as needed. We had to put eaves troughs and downspouts on the house to keep the cistern supplied with water which was an additional expense. It certainly was wonderful to have soft water for the household use and it took much less soap on washday.

By this time we had a good barn and a couple of cattle sheds, and a smoke house. The livestock stood the winters better. We had horses, cows, calves, sheep and a few buffalo calves which we had raised for butchering. We had a few chickens at first for our eggs, but later we went into that on a larger scale when there was more grain. There was a good market for everything you had to sell, now in the way of produce, Martin even raised a little popcorn. That went over big in the evening around the fire on a cold winter's night.

When the weather got down to zero and hung in there for a few days the boys would cut ice from the river or up on the creek and bury it in the ground and cover it with straw. We could have ice most of the summer to help cool the milk, cream and butter.

Leaving For Arizona

 

By this time John Calvin was doing a lot of scouting for various people on the trail. He was adept to this kind of life and loved it. He started out young and grew up with the ways and knowledge of the Indians and prairie life in general. Some of his early training was acquired by working with and for Buffalo Bill (William F.) Cody, supplying meat for construction crews on the Railroad, later captain of the supply wagons to Fort Thomas, Arizona. While never officially in the army he was often referred to as Captain because of his various assignments with the military. Our first newspaper was printed in Lindsey by William Goddard, Sr., in 1870. He had been a printer in England. He called it the Solomon Valley Pioneer. Later it moved to Minneapolis. He printed many stories about life farther West. Johnny just couldn't resist the call. He was a true Westerner, a Scout and a Trailblazer.

We hated to see him go, because it was dangerous work, with Indian skirmishes and desperados at every turn in the trail, and we really needed him at home. He was thrilled with his new job with excellent pay and came back home the following year to get his girl friend, Lydia Gibler at Osborne. They were married at Osborne, Kansas on February 22, 1875, and left for Arizona right away. Johnny was prone to suffer with asthma and hay fever and felt much better in the dryer climate. Melvin also suffered from the same trouble. Johnny talked Melvin into coming out with him awhile. When they were getting ready to go, Martin got "fiddle-footed" and decided to go out with to see what was going on there. They got into the ranching business and time passed quickly. Before Martin realized it two years and passed. By that time Turner was 25 and the girls were good help, and we had a hired man when one was needed. Everything was going well at home.

When Martin and the boys left here for Arizona in February, it was cold and snowing. When they arrived in Arizona their first permanent stop was Milligan's Settlement, now known as Springerville, on April 2. The weather was beautiful, like Spring, and had been most of the winter. It was a farming settlement, raising mostly barley and livestock. The farmers had no threshing machine and had to tramp the grain with sheep for threshing. The next year Martin had a threshing machine shipped in, the first one in Arizona, which was used to thresh all the crops in the area. To Martin and the boys, the climate was a wonderful change compared to the extreme cold and heat in Kansas. After the threshing season was over, Martin sold the farmers the threshing machine and bought some cattle and started ranching.

The second summer was half over in Arizona since he had left Ottawa County. He decided he had better go home and see how things were going on the home place. He arrived back here in June. Turner had kept the farm in good repair and the wheat and corn looked good. The cattle were fat and several ready for market. Henry was big enough now to be good help for Turner and the girls all did their share of the work, helping in the field, milking and feeding. Florence was the tomboy. Elen was the domestic, always rather cook and sew. Susie was the gardener, both vegetables and flowers, but she too, like to cook. None of them really liked to help on washday, but it had to be done anyhow. Martin was pleased that things were going so well. Henry seemed to have grown up in a hurry, and so helpful.

1878 Photo Ottawa Co., KS The John Martin & Jane Willis Jones Family.
In the backyard of the home.

 

By this time the Indian scares were almost a thing of the past in this valley. Just an occasional Indian looking for a good horse or a handout. When the buffalo herds were thinned out the Indians had migrated further west and south. The settlers had come in so fast to this valley that the Indians were outnumbered. In Arizona it was different. If anything, they were more hostile than ever. They lived every moment there in the dreaded fear of the red man.

After some lengthy talks, Turner agreed to go ahead and take over the farm work if Martin wanted to go back to Arizona. Martin thought there was a definite future out there and wanted to try it for awhile. Before leaving this time, he signed the homestead over to me in case that something unpredictable should happen to him. Things wouldn't be as complicated that way.

On their return to the Springerville area, Martin and Melvin stayed together. Johnny was busy on the supply wagons in and out of Fort Thomas. That fall they decided to move their cattle to the Gila Valley after purchasing the famous old "Clanton Ranch" which joined the Fort Thomas military reservation. It was greener over there in that valley and a better water supply. They could also see Johnny between runs and it seemed there was always more work than they could get done, using their ranch as a distribution point for the thousands of head of cattle that were driven in over the trail to supply Fort Thomas and the Indians.

An Officer & Guests at a Picnic near Fort Thomas Arizona 1886 (unknown)

At this point and time Melvin had also gotten interested in the mining and especially the marble business. Martin had originally planned for Melvin to take over the ranch and he could get back home. As the years quickly passed he finally dropped the ranching and went into the mining and marble quarrying all together. John Calvin remained at the ranch and Fort Thomas. He knew well the bulk of the notorious range ridin' roughs: Wyatt Earp, the Clantons, Doc Holladay, the McLowerys, John Ringo, Curly Bill, and many others. At Tombstone in its heyday, there was an over supply of its bad men. Melvin, serving as constable for the Justice of the Peace at Camp Thomas and deputy U.S. Marshal, he had many opportunities for getting acquainted with the worst of them and would recognize them on sight in any provocation.

In Kansas, every year was noted for its Summer Storms, but some worse than others. 1879 topped the list. On May 30th, in late afternoon, a big ugly black twisting cloud rolled in from the Southwest. It wasn't long until we knew we were in trouble. In a short time over 20 buildings were demolished and 6 people lost their lives just across the river in the Salt Creek area. Such a tragedy. About ten days later, in June that same year, another storm of about the same caliber hit Delphos, about 14 miles north and west of here. It completely destroyed most of their buildings. Anything left standing needed repair. They were fortunate in one sense of the word, as they were still "skittish" from the previous storm and all ran for shelter when they saw it coming. Reports were that there were 25 people in one cave during the brunt of the storm, and it didn't take them long to get there.

1879 was a sad year for us in several ways. Tillie and Dan had been farming for several years. Dan's health had been bad since the day he returned from the army. He was never able to do a full hard day's work, which resulted in having to rent out most of his farm land which wasn't a paying proposition. He became restless and wanted to go further West to start a livery and stagecoach business which he thought he could handle and was quite profitable at the time. Tillie refused to go with him. Little Mary was then twelve years old and Tillie just couldn't see taking her out any farther than they were at the present time. They finally agreed to disagree. He went up and filed for divorce, the first in the County, and proceeded to go on West by himself. That just nearly broke us all up. Mary was so precious and she needed her daddy now of all times. It took awhile for Tillie to get her life together again. She later met and married Mitchell Rush and went West to live. They had a beautiful little daughter Clara. Little Mary grew to be a fine young lady and married Lorin Hayes, a local boy. They seem so happy together.

Weddings

 

In a family the size of ours, it seemed that someone was coming or going all the time. In '81 we had two weddings. In the past couple of years Turner had gotten sweet on "Mark" (Martha) Whitaker, the gal up the road about a half-mile. She was a lovely young lady and Turner decided he just couldn't live without her. In the fall of '80 they were working desperately on their new house they were building up on the corner. At Christmas time they announced that they were planning on being married in February. They chose February 21, as their wedding date. She had come to the valley with her parents from Beaver Dam, Wisconsin. They were a lovely couple. In the next few years they had five lovely children. They lived up on the corner at the end of my drive and , being so close, they seemed like my own children. Everything went fine until little Edna got the diphtheria. It was a bad winter, weather-wise, so cold, and by the time we could get a doctor out it was too late. That was a sad, sad Thanksgiving week.

At the time we were getting ready for the wedding for Mark and Turner, Lettia and Frank were moving to Red Cliff, Colorado. Suddenly, Florence decided she would go with them. As usual, we needed her and I hated to see her go so far away. She insisted, so I gave her my blessing. She had been writing to a young man there who had previously lived in this county by the name of Henry Epler, and upon her arrival there, quickly renewed their friendship. Henry had lived in Minneapolis a couple of years before moving out there. Shortly they returned to Minneapolis to be married at home by the minister of the Lutheran Church. They then returned to Red Cliff to make their home and remained there for many years and prospered. They have four lovely children. It has all worked out very well for them there.

Later that year sister Barbara, having lost her husband, Bob Bruce in an accident while cleaning a well, decided she needed more help on the farm and met a handsome man whom she fell in love with by the name of Chris Stifer. They were married and planned to stay on and continue the farming. I was so happy because they had all been such a help to me. Her two sons, Jim and John, were such wonderful boys and needed a man around the house. We were so happy for them all.

We also received the sad, sad news of brother David's death by the Indians at LaSal, Utah. It just seemed as though it couldn't be true, as David was a fearless fighter and wise to the traits of the Indians. He was living there in the mountains and in the cattle business out west of Durango, Colorado. He was one of a body of 50 men sent out to track down some renegade buck Indians that had been murdering settlers and stealing their livestock. He was one that didn't return. To recover his body which had to be accomplished part of the way by pack horse, was almost unbearable, taking sixteen days to get his body back to Mancos, Colorado for burial.

Many things were happening here in the valley. Railroads were making great progress westward and the frontier was being constantly and rapidly pushed along ahead of it. Letters from the men in Arizona were getting thru in less than two weeks. With the Homestead Act, towns of all shapes and locations were popping up everywhere. Thousands were heading for Kansas and settlers swarmed in to take claims. Many homesteaders were ex-soldiers whose time in the service could be deducted from the regular five-year residence requirement. After 6 months and cultivating it and paying $1.25 per acre, he had title to 160 acres. What an incentive for people from all walks of life. There was also the Timber-Culture Act which gave a person title to 160 acres of land if he planted 40 acres of timber upon it and kept the trees in good growing condition for 10 years. Everything seemed to have a tendency to move southwest. At Garden City at one time it was not uncommon for settlers to file on 50,000 acres per day. The "soddies" were popping up all over the western half of Kansas, marking time for the building of their new houses.

Elen and her gentleman friend John Samples, chose June 16, 1884 as their wedding date. Big plans were being made. We went to Salina for yards of taffeta, lace and ribbon. It was a beautiful wedding. The ceremony was performed by Rev. W.C. Seidel, Lutheran minister. They made their home down the river a short distance from me which pleased us all very much. They were both well acquainted in the are and seemed to be a very happy couple. Elen's first two children, Frank and Asel, were born here with me on the homestead. They then moved to Marshall, Missouri, where their two beautiful little daughters, Marea and Verla were born during the short time that they lived in that area. They were such a joy to us all when they decided to return to Ottawa County.

On June 1, 1885, my granddaughter, Mary, and Loren Hayes were married in Abilene by Rev. Richard Wake, Pastor of the Methodist Church. On Christmas Day, the same year Susan and her friend John Carney went to Minneapolis and bought their license to be married. That was their Christmas gift to each other. The ceremony took place at the Lutheran Church and was performed by the same W.C. Seidel, as had married her two sisters, on the 27th of December. It was a cold day, a real blizzard, but it certainly didn't hamper the attendance or the spirits of the people at that wedding. It was a gala occasion and they made a beautiful couple. They were just radiant with happiness. Later they had two beautiful children, Maude and John H.

It really seemed like the past few years my children, one way or another had left home. There was just Henry and I now, so it seemed that I had my family raised, when some folks came thru in a covered wagon. The mother had a little boy and was expecting another child and was feeling very poorly. I did all I could to help her and make her comfortable, but to no avail. She did not live to give birth to the child. We had the doctor out from Bennington but he could do nothing to help her. The father was so frightened and lost and just didn't feel like he could keep little Davy and take care of him, so I offered to keep him and give him a home and see that he got to go to school. He was three years old and proved to be such a joy to me and helped me a great deal with my chores and work around the house and was so much company in the long evenings. He was such good little boy. When he was 14 and just thru school, his father came one day and said he had remarried and had a nice home now and would be glad to take him and give him further schooling. It was like losing one of my own, I missed him so.

Henry, my only one at home now, decided to get married at Thanksgiving time and chose the 30th day of November, 1889, as their wedding day. Her name was Flora Schreechfield and she lived in Minneapolis. He hadn't known her long, and the marriage didn't last long either, as Henry came home one afternoon, early, and found her in bed with a flashy, well dressed, diamond studded cattle buyer from the East who had come out here buying up cattle to ship back home. Henry came riding in, in a lather, going to "get the gun and go after him". He was completely upset and acted as though he had lost his sense of reasoning. It just happened that Martin had come in off a long dusty trail for a few days and quickly got the matter in hand. He set him down hard and told him to "get his wits about him. No woman is worth what he was considering doing, and to think of the consequences". How thankful I was that it happened as it did. Am afraid I would have had a hard time convincing him, had I been here alone. Martin talked him into getting his horse and riding down to the ranch in Arizona for a few months. He promised him that while he was at home he would go up and sue her for divorce for him, which he proceeded to do. Henry left immediately and Martin went back to town to get the paper work started. When Henry came back to Kansas a few months later she had gone East with her cattle buyer. For Henry it was "water under the bridge". He settled down to help Turner with the farming of the home place and seemed reasonably resigned.

John Calvin's wife, Lydia, took her five children and moved to St. Louis for better schooling. In 1885 he married again to Josephine Tanner, a young lady from Lamar, Colorado, and has a sweet little daughter, Ora. They live now in Hackberry, Oklahoma.

Melvin and Laura have one little boy - Roy - who just idolizes his father. They all write and send pictures, but surely wish they had lived closer when we could all get together and have a big family reunion. Melvin has now gone into the marble quarry business in all seriousness. He thinks that is the life for him.

Florence (Francis Melvina) and Henry have three children now, and are expecting another. John and Susan have a little girl and, as yet, Henry and Jessie have no children.

Then, of course, Turner and Martha, my relatives, who live the closest, who look after me and do the farming, have four living now. They lost one dear little girl with diphtheria. We all miss her terribly.....such a sweet one......little Edna........she was a "chatter-box".....the visitor.

Lettie and Frank have adopted a little boy - Howard. Am very anxious to see him on their next trip down this way.

The Final Parting

 

That year Martin stayed home with us until after Christmas, and celebrated the holidays with the family. He then felt that he had better get on back down there and get things shaped up so that he could come back to Ottawa County to stay. When Spring came there he had his plans lined out to sell and return home for good. Rather, he went back and he and the boys got more involved in a good mine and had developed one of the best marble quarries in the country. He became so involved in this and other business ventures that he didn't feel he could leave them. He, too, was having health problems. His health failed him suddenly and he passed away at Gatewood, Arizona on March 30, 1894. All three of the boys out there were with him at the time. He had definitely made arrangements and was planning to come home to stay in a few months, turning all the business over to the boys. He just didn't quite make it. He was buried a Wilcox, Arizona, April 1, 1894, in the old Restanny Cemetery out northeast of town. At the time it was our plan to bring his body back to Highland Cemetery here at Minneapolis, but as time went on and it wasn't done, a stone was place to mark his grave there in his memory.

When the sad news came it was hard to realize its true meaning. He was one that always came back after a long hard trip from anywhere. It still seems as though he will be coming in one day soon. He was a good husband and father. The boys had a deep sense of respect for him and the girls idolized their father. He was a true Christian God-fearing man and a born leader, always there to give a helping hand when needed. When he set out to do a task one could depend on it being done right. He loved a challenge and when he was put to the test it seemed that he had almost super-natural strength. A true pioneer in every sense of the word.

(The writer -Mildred Jones Nicholson- wishes to add that all of these traits were amplified due to the fact that he had a wonderful wife and mother of his ten children. She was strong and courageous and gracious enough to take over in it's entirety when she was called upon to do so, that he might be enabled to pursue what he felt was his calling. All these virtues were the foundation of our Kansas heritage. This story is being written as it was seen and lived by these fantastic and stalwart people.)

After Henry's return home he helped Turner with the farming and seemed to have forgotten his first bad start in matrimony. On March 23rd, 1895, he married Jessie B. Nobles from Miltonvale, a little town up northeast of here. By this time I had my precious grandchildren all around me. It was such a consolation now. Our holiday dinners, anniversaries, and all important occasions including baptisms, confirmations, charivaris, etc.....all seemed to call for some kind of celebration. My brother, A.J.. had always been my chief advisor and counselor after I had been left alone. Suddenly on the 24th day of October, 1896, the good Lord thought he needed him worse than I did, I guess. He was stricken with a heart attack and was gone in a few minutes. Now my sister Barbara is all I have left of my own immediate family. She lives close by and I am so thankful for that. A.J. was only 58 years of age and we all miss him so much. He lies at rest in Highland Cemetery beside his daughter, Ada, who preceded him in death in 1891.

It has been a great and wonderful life thus far, and well worth the living. We are a free people, living in a free state and a free nation, now undivided. God has been good to us and has sent us many blessings. I have had so much to thank God for every day of my life. We are all together on holidays, birthdays and other festive occasions. There is always a "bunch" at our house. We all get together and have such good times. Many times any number of neighbors will join us. The "Latchstring is Always Out".