Monday, July 30, 2012

way west, continued


It was a hard trip for the older people, but the young folks seemed to enjoy every bit of it. In the evening when the day was done, and the cattle had all been corralled and supper was over, the young men would bring out their violins and banjos and make music and they would sing  songs, some of which I still hear on the radio.  And they would dance by the light of the moon and the campfires.  They courted and made love to the girls. My Aunt Mollie was 16 at the time.  Two years later she married the captain’s son.
It was growing late in the summer.  Everyone was getting short of temper.  The oxen were slow and plodding.  They were growing weary, and needed constant urging with the bull whip.  The men swore long and loud.  They forgot all about being gentlemen and that there were ladies present.  They called a spade a spade if you know what I mean.  Fuel for the fires became scarce.  Fall was in the air and the long train that had stayed together through thick and thin began breaking up and going in different directions.
My folks were headed for the Oregon valley and they began taking short cuts. At one place they loaded their wagons and oxen on railroad flatcars and went through country so rugged there were no wagon trails.  They went over steep mountains and deep canyons and my poor mother was terrified.  They finally reached Walla Walla. There, Father sold his oxen and bought horses and went down the Columbia River on a steamboat and camped near Portland.  To them the valley was Paradise.  As they drove south to Corvallis they passed farmers with loads of fruit and at night when they camped the farmers would come to visit them and bring them fruit and potatoes and other produce and not charge them a cent. How good everything tasted after bacon and pancakes for so long.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

continued/McConnell story



                All of the cooking was done over the camp fires, but as the long train moved westward fuel to cook with became harder to find so they used buffalo chips which were plentiful, and worked quite well.  Once my mother, looking ahead to supper time gathered a huge basket of the buffalo chips and put it on the wagon. The Englishman was driving. He became very angry and kicked it off his wagon, saying he wasn’t hauling any you know what. Mother was insulted but she didn’t insist.
As summer wore on the water became harder to find.  There came a night when they had to make dry camp.  They were up very early the next morning, on their way trudging along in the heat and clouds of dust, when the oxen began to act uneasy, tossing their heads and sniffing the air.  At once the whole wagon train was stampeded as the oxen had smelled water. Everything was in a panic as the men tried to control the oxen.  They herded them along the best they could until they came to a river. They managed to get the oxen loose from the wagons and into the water.  Many of the wagons and most of the gear was badly smashed, so they camped there for several days while they repaired the damage. At least the oxen got a good drink plus a good rest.
Some rivers they could ford but others were too deep, so they lashed logs to the wagon wheels and swam the oxen across; the men swam with their horses and guided them in the right direction.  The women and children huddled together in the covered wagons, and I expect the women did lots of praying. Some places where the rivers were very wide, it would take several days to get everyone and everything across, but I never heard of but one man who was drowned.
The river Platte was about the largest, and some enterprising man built a ferry boat and was getting rich charging fares.  This time he got everyone across except the stock, and he overloaded the ferry and it tipped over.  The stock and men were all in the river together. My uncle Perry was a boy of 13 and was helping his father, when he saw the boat was going to capsize. He jumped overboard and swam ashore.  He knew Father couldn't swim and was wondering what happened to him when the saw Father sitting on the bank. Father had gone under when they first went into the river but had managed to grab the yoke of the oxen and they swam ashore with Father hanging on to the yoke. It was then that Perry confessed to how he had been going down to the mill pond in Missouri and the men at the mill had taught him to swim.  It was a lucky thing for him or he would never have seen Oregon.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

The Faint of Heart Turn Back, the Weak Died, only the Strong Survived

            February was a stormy month. They had snow, hail, wind and rain, but spring was on the way and they had started a long journey, no turning back.  Ahead lay the vas plains. They had a saying in those days that the faint hearted turned back, the weak died; only the strong survived. Men realized what they were up against and that their wives and little children were depending on them.  It was a harsh reality and a man had to be a man. But spring came and the plains blossomed, and the grass grew green and lush.  They camped for days and let the oxen graze and rest and grow fat and strong.  The children romped and played.  The wives fumed and fretted at those times, they wanted to be on their way. The oxen were in good shape now and ready for what was to come.
                Indians began showing up. Every man was armed and guarded their stock at all the time while camped. AT night the wagons were driven into a circle to make a corral.  There were all kinds of people in the trains some didn’t speak English and didn’t understand orders; some didn’t want to corral with the rest so they were forced to come inside for their own protection.  There were captains and officers to keep order.  My uncle Crocket Kirk’s father was the train captain and was called Captain Kirk for many years after they settled in Oregon.
                Spring faded into summer. The summer was hot and dry but bunch grass makes good feed even when it gets dry, and that was plentiful. Water was the problem so they would sometimes drive until lat night because they could not camp without water. Evidences of Indians were many.  They found one place where an entire train had been massacred.  The scalps were still there for some time.  There was long fine hair of young women and short golden curls of little children.  It was a gruesome sight.
                One of the young women in the train gave birth along the way. They did the best they could for her but the baby died and the mother soon followed.  They had no time to grieve.  They buried her along the trail, and when the wagons pulled they all drove over the grave to obliterate it, so the Indians would not dig it up for the blankets they were wrapped in. This was common practice.
                At the time my folks left Missouri, my brother little Johnny was just recovering from cholera and was very frail.  He couldn’t eat what the rest ate, but the cow did give mil whenever they could get feed for the stock.  The cow had to work right along with the oxen.
                They were all turned to graze in the evening and herded until they were filled and ready to lie down, they they were driven into the corral of wagons.  They had to live off what pasture they could find.  Everything depended on the oxen keeping strong.  So the cows didn’t fare too badly and gave milk right along. 
                I am putting this down so you can understand how a cow could work like an oxen and still give milk. There is no doubt that the cow is what kept Johnny alive.