Bess always listened to Mama when she voiced her hope that Bess would remain in Cando, and would silently nod her head to acknowledge that she had heard what Mama said. “I’m sure I would,” she replied. “But I have to do what I want to do, Mama. Please understand.” It was difficult talking to Mama about her plans because Bess knew in her heart how much Mama loved her and cherished being around her. My going to the West will create a void in Mama’s life, Bess thought. I have to appreciate that, but I still have to do what I have always dreamed of doing.
During the winter of 1907-1908, Papa helped Bess put together lists of supplies that she would need to take with her. “Some folks are taking livestock out there,” he said. “But I don’t think you need to do that. Make sure you get yourself a good horse, though. That might be the most important thing you will need.” Papa helped Bess create a list of the characteristics she should look for when buying a horse. “It’s what I used when I bought Maggie—and also what I used when I bought Patches for you.”
At the end of the winter, which was unusually mild, Mama and Papa celebrated Bess’s twenty-first birthday. Mama tried valiantly to show her support for Bess, but Bess knew she was very disappointed that her only daughter would be leaving very soon. Papa showed signs of anticipation that his loving daughter would be leaving, but offered only encouragement to her. “You’re twenty-one, my Bessie,” he proudly said. “Now you can go fulfill your dream! We love you!”
That was what she wanted to hear. She wasn’t afraid of the challenges or difficulties that faced her. She felt pangs of sadness knowing that she would be leaving her loving parents and might not see them for a long time. She knew how much they would miss her—and she would miss them terribly as well. She knew that both Mama and Papa were concerned about what loneliness she would feel. But she was prepared. She was driven.
In early April 1908, Bess was ready to leave Cando and head west.
Chapter Six
The sun had barely peaked over the horizon when Bess’s eyes flew open that fateful early April morning of her departure. She lay in bed for a moment, taking deep breaths. Today is the day I will be leaving my home in search of another, she thought. She took a deep breath—and the thought did not frighten her—it excited her.
After a quick breakfast of eggs and pancakes, Papa helped Bess load her two trunks and carpetbag onto the wagon for the trip to Leeds, a small town southwest of Cando, where she would board the train to Jamestown and connect with the Northern Pacific train to the West. She had not slept well because of her excitement and nervousness, but she didn’t feel tired. It was still dark outside because the sun had not yet risen, but the cool, crisp morning seemed to beckon her. “Let’s go, my Bessie,” said Papa bravely with what Bess thought was a tear in his eye.
Tears filled Bess’s eyes at the thought of leaving Mama and Papa. This would be her first time away from home, and she had no idea how long she would be gone. She knew how much Mama and Papa would miss her. And there were others on the farm she would miss: Patches and Buck. She would cherish her fond memories of them.
Patches had been her loyal friend for a large part of her life from the time Papa brought her home. Bess wished she could have taken her along, but that was impossible. She went out to the barn to bid farewell to her horse, and sensed that Patches knew she was leaving. The horse whinnied slightly—a sort of a gentle, quiet neigh—as Bess rubbed her neck, touched her soft velvety nose, and hugged her. Animals are so sensitive, Bess thought. Somehow they know.
Buck was always smiling at Bess in a happy dog-like sort of way. She scratched his back, rubbed his head and ears, and hugged him as he wagged his tail while he seemed to be laughing. Bess hoped it was all an act, because she would miss him. “Bye, Buck,” she whispered. He looked up at her with a curious look in his eyes and barked. Maybe he thought they were going to herd the sheep, and that made her smile. He was always ready.
Bess had packed two small leather trunks and a rusty-red carpetbag with the essential things she would need. She had carefully sewn her money into a hidden pocket inside her carpetbag to ensure that it would be as safe as possible. Her wardrobe included only two dresses and those were rather plain. Mostly she had included work clothes—loose pants, warm shirts, two warm coats, comfortable work shoes, undergarments, some writing supplies, and, of course, her rifle, shotgun, and revolver. The rifle and shotgun were packed securely in the bottom of the larger trunk where they would be safe. They would be needed not only for protection in the months and maybe years ahead, but also to kill some game—ducks and pheasants or perhaps a deer or antelope. Bess packed the loaded revolver in the bottom of her carpetbag.
“Please be safe,” Mama said as she shed a few tears. Bess could tell how much her departure tugged at Mama’s heart. Bess hugged her tightly, fighting back her own tears, and kissed her on the cheek. “And write. Please!” Mama pleaded.
“Don’t worry, Mama,” Bess said. “I will be safe. And I’ll write.” After one more hug and a kiss for Mama, Bess and her father walked slowly to the buggy.
“I love you, Bessie,” choked Mama, fighting back the tears.
“And I love you, too,” replied Bess as she slowly climbed into the buggy. She waved to Mama. Papa struck the reins and the horses took off at a slow trot. Bess continued to look back at what was her home and watched as Mama kept waving as she became smaller and smaller, when finally they reached the end of the road and her home was nothing but a tiny speck in the distance. A wonderful memory, thought Bess. Thoughts about when she might next see Mama raced through her mind. When I’m successful, she thought.
Papa and Bess traveled slowly to Leeds a few miles southwest for the train as the morning sun began warming and lightening the countryside. Leeds was at the northern extension of the Northern Pacific rail line from Jamestown. Thankfully, the road to Leeds was not too muddy and they arrived at the train station about an hour before the train was scheduled to depart, allowing plenty of time for Papa to unload the trunks before heading back to Cando.
The train station in Leeds wasn’t really a depot; it was a little unpainted shack beside a gravel path near the tracks. It consisted of two small rooms. There was a table where an agent sat on alternate mornings and sold tickets. There were only two windows in the shack beside the window near the front door, and each of them had a torn shade.
The train from Leeds to Jamestown was mainly intended to haul wheat from the Leeds grain elevator down to Jamestown. It also carried passengers in one passenger car hitched to the end of the train. Bess took a deep breath as she went into the little shack to purchase her ticket. “I’ll watch your things while you get your ticket,” said Papa.
Bess walked inside while Papa waited patiently outside. The agent seemed a bit angry about something and asked her gruffly, “Where to, young lady?”
Bess just smiled at him. It was obvious that he wasn’t used to seeing a young woman buying a ticket by herself. “Dickinson. One way.”
The agent looked at Bess again, muttered something to himself, and gave her the ticket. “I can give you a ticket to Jamestown only. You’ll have to get your ticket to Dickinson there, you know.” He turned to fetch the ticket. “Be careful, miss,” he said, this time with a smile. Bess smiled back at him and nodded.
About half a dozen men, dressed in drab-colored work clothes, were waiting for the train to arrive from Jamestown. Leeds was the last stop on the line and the train would be at the station just long enough to turn around the engine and reconnect it at the other end of the train for the return trip.
The Leeds train station was located at the northern edge of town near a cluster of cottonwood trees that had not yet started to release their spring load of seeds that would float on the breeze like large snowflakes. To the west of the shack was a little clearing with a lot of lumber and piles of what looked like debris. Bess quickly realized they were in the early stages of building a new train depot. Those who were waiting for the train stayed on the gravel walk
way between the small depot shack and the tracks and Bess didn’t venture far away, because of the mud from two days of light spring rain. There were mud puddles everywhere and the last thing she needed was to be caked with sticky North Dakota mud on a long trip.
Bess walked outside and joined Papa, who was guarding her belongings. “Got your ticket?” he asked.
“Just to Jamestown. The agent said I have to buy the ticket to Dickinson there.”
“Train will be coming soon,” said Papa.
Bess could see by the look on his face that Papa was having difficulty saying his goodbye. She knew he was strong and rarely showed any sort of emotion that would hint at a weakness. She remembered his always saying, “Keep a stiff upper lip.” Scottish, I suppose, thought Bess.
The small black steam engine slowly chugged into the station hissing a lot of steam but otherwise without any fanfare. After it stopped, workers uncoupled the engine to turn it around for the trip back to Jamestown. The ticket agent loaded Bess’s two trunks, as well as the other passengers’ baggage, onto the forward end of the passenger car, which looked to be more than thirty years old and was made of wood. It was painted a pale green and was quite weathered, with peeling paint and spots of bare wood under some of the mud-stained windows.
Papa watched as the agent loaded the baggage and turned to Bess—tears clearly in his eyes. “Guess it’s time, my Bessie,” he said as he gave her a hug. “I will miss you so much,” he choked. “So will Mama.”
Bess hugged him tightly. “I love you, Papa, I’ll be safe. I’ll write soon. Please hug Mama again for me.”
“I will. Please write, my Bessie,” he said.
Then Papa gave her another big hug and kissed her gently on the cheek. “You’re prepared, my Bessie. You’re prepared. Now go and live your life! Remember that! Live YOUR life!”
“I love you, Papa,” Bess said again as she could see tears in his eyes. Bess tried valiantly to keep from crying—but tears came anyway. “Tell Mama I love her, too.”
Bess walked away from Papa to the waiting car as the conductor stood impatiently by the steps. She gave one small wave to Papa as he stood on the platform—alone. He’s a strong man—the strongest in the world, Bess thought, but somehow she thought that he looked a bit helpless. Live your life, she thought. Such good advice.
For a moment she had second thoughts about leaving and wanted to rush back to Papa, but she quickly regained her composure and took the hand of the conductor as he extended it to her and boarded the car. She took her seat on the right side near the rear by the window and could see Papa standing outside on the platform through the muddy window—his hand raised and waving gently. She waved to him as he waved back—clearly brushing a tear from his eye. She clutched her hands in her lap, trying to steady her shaking nerves.
Shortly after boarding, a well-dressed man sat down in the unoccupied seat beside her on the aisle. He wore a dark wool suit with a black bowtie. Very smart-looking, she thought. His face was clean-shaven and he wore rimless glasses that reminded her of her high school principal. He and Bess smiled a bit awkwardly at one another.
“Good morning, miss,” he said. She returned his greeting with a smile, and turned quickly toward the window so she could wave again to Papa. The gentleman turned away to read the magazine he was holding. It looked like some medical journal. Maybe a doctor, she thought. She was glad that he didn’t want to initiate a chat, and continued to wave at Papa.
Bess was aware of the stares of some of the other passengers, most of whom looked like they hadn’t washed in weeks. Even though Leeds was a small town, she didn’t recognize anyone. All the passengers were men, who were generally unshaven and wore dark woolen clothing with shabby coats, work clothing that might be more suitable for a farm. They all wore heavy boots that were caked with mud. Most of the men appeared quite tired and bored.
The train gave a jerk, and then started to move slowly out of the station. Bess continued to wave at Papa, who was waving back, but she thought that he probably couldn’t see her. When the train had left the station and she could no longer see Papa, she thought about what he might be thinking and feeling as he rode back to Cando—alone. I’ll miss him, she thought. His guidance, his strength, his love.
Bess settled back in her seat to try to enjoy the ride. Sleeping for longer than a few minutes would probably be difficult, because the train jerked back and forth often, and there was considerable hustle and bustle in the car from the men who were talking loudly over the noise of the train. The trip from Leeds to Jamestown was supposed to take about an hour and she would have to wait for a couple of hours before changing to the westbound train to Dickinson.
While looking out the mud-spattered window, Bess could see the flat countryside south of Leeds beginning to show signs of spring slowly making a welcome appearance. It had been refreshing to hear the sound of the meadowlarks earlier in the morning and before boarding the train, and feeling the warmth of the morning sun and seeing a cloudless sky gave her hope for pleasant weather for the trip out West.
I’m embarking on an adventure to be sure, thought Bess. But I’ve read and studied enough about Western North Dakota to expect just about anything. Her many trips to the Cando library, her conversations with Mrs. Arnett, the documents that Don Grant, the lawyer in Cando, had given her made the homesteading process sound exciting—he had told her that she would have to go to the county seat and file for a homestead.
The brochures that Mrs. Arnett at the library suggested she send for and that she had finally received from the Western Land Securities Company made the prospect of life out West almost irresistible to her. They included detailed maps of North and South Dakota, showing the railroads that had been built or had been proposed, as well as maps of areas that were open to homesteading. The land company had highlighted in red the land they owned and were trying to sell. Pictures of sod houses were included, and while not attractive, they showed how life could be sustained early on during the course of the homesteading process. To the right of the photos were captions such as “No Place Like Home!” and “No Home Like Your Own!”
The posters and advertisements also included sales pitches that encouraged readers to “Work and think for yourself and divide your profits only with your family!” There were other pitches such as “Your opportunity for good, cheap land will be a matter of history in five years!” It was all very alluring and certain to draw interest from people living in larger cities in the East, such as Minneapolis and maybe even Chicago. Bess felt that she was getting a head start in the process.
It’s highly unusual, Bess thought, for a woman to homestead by herself, and there will be obvious dangers and risks. But she knew that it was not unprecedented for women to homestead on her own. Bess had learned those women who did homestead generally were part of a family who would homestead adjacent to their main property so as to have more land as a family. Others would homestead near a town and work in some capacity in the town and spend little time on their new land. They weren’t really homesteaders, but they were trying to obtain free land only to sell it later for a profit.
Single women were few and far between out West, Bess knew, and she wanted to do as much as possible to not look like a woman seeking to charm some man. That was far from her mind, and she had no desire for any male companionship other than for those who might provide her with equipment and perhaps provide the physical labor that was certainly to come. She had no interest in courting or marriage; neither of those was a motivation for her decision to head west. I want independence and am determined to find it, she thought.
Bess folded the brochures and put them back into her carpetbag, closed her eyes, leaned back in her seat, and felt the steady rhythm of the passenger train as it headed south toward Jamestown over the new Northern Pacific tracks. The jerky motion had diminished as the train maintained a steady but slow speed and its undulating motion soon caused her to drift in and out of sleep.
Not long after she nodded o
ff to sleep she felt a slight tapping on her shoulder, awakening her with a start. “We’re coming into Jamestown now,” said the man sitting beside her, still holding his magazine.
Bess could see the James River through the window as the train slowly moved into the station. Jamestown was a railroad town, having been founded in 1872 by General Thomas Rosser of the Northern Pacific Railroad, and he had named the town after his hometown in Virginia. The original site was called Fort Seward and was small army post established to guard where the new transcontinental railroad would cross the James River. The fort was located high on a bluff that overlooked the James River and Pipestem Creek confluence. Jamestown was growing fast because of the railroad. There were several tracks and a small engine billowed steam as it moved two freight cars.
Shortly, the train came to a jerking halt, nearly throwing Bess out of her seat. The train depot and surrounding area were quite noisy with the hiss of the steam engine and cars moving around the various rail sidings. After the train had stopped and the few passengers disembarked, Bess stood up and got off the train. A wave of relief swept through her. Fortunately, when she entered the train depot she found herself first in line to purchase her ticket to Dickinson.
The clerk, a fat, short man wearing a dark-green visor to shield his eyes, told her that the train was going to be on time and would arrive in about an hour. Bess thanked him and placed her ticket in her bag. Then she looked for a ladies’ convenience and saw a door with a sign that said “Ladies Only.” She went in to freshen up a bit before finding a seat in the waiting room.
An hour later, the whistle of the westbound train blared in the distance. The train was coming sooner than expected. As the engine passed the small depot, Bess marveled at its size. The train was larger than the one from Leeds to Jamestown and it was pulling several passenger cars and a few boxcars, some of which looked as though they were hauling cattle and sheep. As they passed, she could smell the animals. Bess assumed the boxcars must be the immigrant cars. She’d read about them--that homesteaders were renting cars to transport all their belongings and livestock.
Bess: A Pioneer Woman's Journey of Courage, Grit and Love Page 5
