October 1871
Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 1, 1871
A beautiful morning. Two letters from home. They have kept us in papers—so we have kept track of the Franco Prussian War, ct. The Springers were here to day, Mr. S – is a tease. It seems to him I ought to marry one of these young men. I’d rather keep them as friends.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 3, 1871
Wanted to wash yesterday, but the tub leaked, so I put it to soak. Baked with the new yeast, and the bread is a “perfect success.” Also baked ginger snaps. Mrs. Springer here to see if I would stay with the children while she went with the men on a hunt. Wrote letters until my hand got tired.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 4, 1871
Washed in a. m. and ironed. Saw prairie fire, such a sight.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 6, 1871
Yesterday we had a real wind storm. Had a blanket up at the door with sticks acrost it to keep it from blowing up all the time. When it was open great rolls of tumble weed would come in. What a house we had.
Mended a pair of pants, and vest for Philip and tried to read. Towards evening, a thunder storm came. Then it was as unpleasant as it could be. Cold wind and almost dark. This is the way some people live all winter. I have not wished myself elsewhere, for I want to see how it would be to live on the frontier in all seasons.
I was chilly, although dressed warm, and went to bed early to get warm.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 14, 1871
Over a week since I wrote in my journal. I should have taken it along. Now I have much to write, and most likely will miss some things of interest.
Saturday I was fixing a duck for dinner, and a goose for Sunday, when Jannette Rose came with a letter for Father sent me a draft of $300.00 to prove upon my claim.
Then Mr. Springer came for me, they were ready to start on a hunt. He wanted brother to go along, but he said he was not well enough. He was in a flurry about “shooting irons.” Wanted all he could get.
I would rather have stayed home, but had promised Mrs. S I would stay with the children. He had a good saddle, and the best riding horses I have seen in this state. I enjoyed the ride, my horse paced along. Mr. S who is from Va., talked all the time, with his southern accent. He declared that if he was a young man I “should never leave the Ninnescah single.” I laughed at him, and said there are very nice young men in the East. When we crossed the branch, we saw a very large snake. The largest I ever saw, “Well” he said “if I were not in such a hurry I’d get off and kill it.”
They had the waggon packed, and left soon after we got there. When leaving Mrs. S said, “There is nothing in the house but flour and bacon.” I thought she was joking.
When dinner time came, one of the children said “I guess you will have to bake bread for dinner.” I looked, but there was not a crum of bread in the house. And no soda. She had started “salt risin” in a tin cup, but that would not be ready before night, and I had never baked any. I had left a duck dinner, with good yeast bread ct. Here were three of us, and almost an empty larder. I found a few potatoes and dried fruit, also yeast—and started bread at once—which I baked Sunday.
When we were out on a hunt we were gone one night, and I never thought they would be away more than two nights at the longest. Well they left Saturday morning and never got back until Wednesday evening.
It was windy all the time they were gone. Pieces of the chinking would fall out from between the logs, on the south side of the house. The house which was 18 by 14 had no windows. Along one side were two beds—at one end a stove, along the other side were a table and chairs—and at the other end chests or trunks. The neighbors were too far away to go calling, and none came to see us. The children were good, but we all seemed stupid.
Tuesday I had a shake. I had many chills—but never a shake, before. Then came the fever. So time draged on, and not one word from Philip, and I was worried.
I was as glad as the children, when they came Wed. evening!
They had to go so far, before they found any buffalo, is what had kept them so long. I wanted to go home at once— but they said it was too late, and they were tired, would take me home in the morning. Thursday early—we saw smoke and thought the fire was coming over the divide towards us. so they rushed out to plow a fire guard beyond their hay stacks. The wind favored them, and the fire did not get on their side of the branch, but all between the branches—and beyond—way up this way, and on to the river.
Brother was alone, and had his hands full. He quick “back fired” when he saw the fire coming, then moved the ox there, after which he had to watch the dugout. Half our wood burned and a load of chips. The ground thrown out when they built the dug out, helped to save it. From Springers we could see the flames beyond the branch—when it burned the sunflowers on Mr. Smiths dame, It burned Elsworths hay stacks and some others, also Mr. Smiths stable and corn crib. He is away freighting.
I was so anxious about my brother – but could not go to him. J. R. was at Elsworths, and could not get to his claim or my dugout until the fire had burned down. When he came up here, Philip had gone to the river to see his cabin, which fortunately escaped.
In the meantime the Springer men did not get back to the house, until 2 o’clock. Then we had dinner and the boy brought me home. Mrs. S gave me some buffalo meat and two preserving citrons. She offered to pay me for staying with the children, but I considered it an act of neighborliness, and told her so. The S are not poor, but in loading up when they left, they in their hurry had taken the eatables along, and left us short. She is a vary capable woman. When the boy and I finaly got started in the big waggon toward home, and when we rounded the branch we were on burned over ground. Down toward the Hall we could see where the fire had run through three acres of corn. The wind was so high, the fire burned the dry leaves and some of the husk, that many ears were half exposed, others that had fallen down, were still smouldering. The stalks were mostly standing.
Rounding the head of the other branch between the Hall and home, we saw three deer, running toward the sand hills. What a dreary sight it was—not a green thing in sight, except the trees at the river. I had expected to find things looking bad, but my imagination was short, far short of the fact. The prairie had burned black and even; but over the bottom where the grass grew rank, it left the blackened stalks standing. The ground was still hot, and a high wind blowing.
We were both glad to be together again, and I was so relieved to find him as well as he was. Everything in the house was covered with burned grass—that blew in—and O the skunk smell, how it sickened us. Philip was angry at J. R. for shooting the skunk in the house—but that did not help matters any, after he had gone to the Hall.
Philip tried to clean up a little. Fresh wood ashes back of my trunk absorbed the scent to some extent. He was baking sweet potatoes for supper. I soon laid down— after he told me of his fight with the fire, leaving the cleaning of the house for next day. It was cloudy and windy coming from Springers and I got chilled through. After going to bed fever came on.
Some time later Brother called me. He said if I felt able, I should wrap up well, and come out and see the fire, that it was not likely I would ever see the like again. The scene was grand beyond description. To the North there was a sheet of flames extending east and west. To the west there was fire beyond fire. Acrost the river, a hay stack was burning. Jake had the logs for his house ready to put up, the fire got among them, and did much damage. I cant give a description of the wild fearful—yet facinating sight.
I went back to bed, thankful that we were safe. The first fire, the one that came over the divide early in the a. m. while it swept on, at a terrible speed, did not extend far in width. I cannot understand how so many fires in different directions, should be burning that night.
The people and hearders acrost the river did not expect the fire to cross, but it jumped the river, and caused much trouble. One heard of cattle and ponies stampeded—and some were burned. Another hearder lost $700. Before morning a thunder storm put out all the fires.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 18, 1871
Have been too busy to write. Cleaned the house and wrote letters. Monday washed, baked and made brine for the meat. Yesterday finished the white clothes, dressed a prairie chicken, and wrote a letter.
It still smells of skunk. Had to turn the head of my bed, it prevented my sleeping. There have been three deer around, but too far away to shoot.
Philip took his ox to town and sold him for a cent a pound. He paid $100 for the two, did a little breaking, then one died.
There was a man here this a. m. hunting a girl. His wife was sick and they needed help. They were from N. Y. My first thought was, I must go and care for her, she is ill and so far from home. Then I knew I could not leave here— It was ten miles down the river, and I would not put that distance between brother and me, under present conditions.
He had two fine horses. One had a ladies side saddle on—seated in blue velvet.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 20, 1871
Baked four loaves of bread, Philip shot a coyote from the door way. We will dry the pelt for me to take home. He just came from the sand hills with a big wild turkey, I am drying some pieces of buffalo meat, that I will take home.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 21, 1871
This a. m. Philip shot a rat at the foot of my bed. That is the third he has shot here. They call them wood rats. One day when crossing the upper branch among the scrub trees, I saw one fussing in the crotch of a tree with little sticks. Our cat is still down at the Hall.
Baked pies this a. m. out of pie mellon. Mr. Rose gave me the seed last spring. I dont care for them, and there are enough to supply the whole settlement. Our squashes are fine and good to bake. The fire scorched the garden badly.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 23, 1871
Two letters from home. Yesterday I was not well, and P got dinner, and a nice one it was. This a. m. my head was all right—so I washed. Flocks of wild geese along the river. The air is so still at times, one hears a long distance. Heard some one sing, but did not see the singer. It was pleasant to listen.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 25, 1871
Mr. Stafford came to plow, but his plow would not work, so he went home. His sister Mrs. L had come along to spend the day, and was cheated out of her visit. I got a pie baked before they left, and we enjoyed eating it together. Mr. Rose came in time for pie. He was full of fun, and told many rediculous things that had happened since he came to the river. One new comer complained of his bad luck hunting. “You must wiggle your gun man. Wiggle your gun when you shoot.” The poor innocent believed. We drove down to the garden with them, and got four pie mellons & a watermellon for them.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 28, 1871
Quite forgot my journal yesterday. Baked and sewed. Philip shot a young turkey. Had a fry for breakfast, pot pie for dinner, and enough for dinner tomorrow.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 29, 1871
Lizzie Rose came over on their pony. She had three letters for us and a bundle of papers. In p.m. Mr. S came with two more letters—and another bundle of papers. What a terrible fire they have had in Chicago.
The boys were to the river, and came back with two wild geese. Mr. Stafford stayed for supper. We had turkey, squash, stewed peaches, pie, bread and coffee. He promised to do the plowing next week. It is very smoky. The wind from the North.
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Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
October 31, 1871
The last of the month. As soon as the plowing is done we will go to Augusta and prove up. It is cold and stormy. Yesterday it rained all day. The rain froze on the grass. I baked and had a slow time. The geese are fat, stewed one, it is very nice. I am alone to day, just had dinner— baked a little corn bread in the skillet. Am seated by the fire, writing on my lap.
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