Bess: A Pioneer Woman's Journey of Courage, Grit and Love

by Charles Cranston Jett

  She headed out to her assigned passenger car and experienced again the unmistakable and distinct smell of the livestock consuming her senses. While the odor might have been objectionable to some, it was rather thrilling for Bess. It smells like the barn, Bess thought. Or maybe the manure pile, she chuckled to herself. Bess and Papa had discussed her taking some of the sheep, but they both agreed she should first set herself up with a house. Once settled, it would be more economical for Bess to purchase twenty or thirty ewes.

  Bess boarded the passenger car and took a seat next to a young woman with brown hair and bright sky-blue eyes that seemed to dance with joy. The woman smiled broadly as Bess sat down beside her and held out her hand. “I’m Linda … Linda Herbert,” she said. Bess noticed her long, delicate fingers, which suggested that she could easily be a concert pianist.

  “Bess Parker,” Bess quickly replied with a smile. The beautiful woman tossed her head back, highlighting her light-brown hair, and seemed eager to engage in conversation. Linda’s bubbly enthusiasm made Bess eager to befriend her.

  “Where are you going, Bess?” Linda asked. Her broad smile accentuated her rosy cheeks and her eyes sparkled.

  “Dickinson,” Bess replied. “And you?”

  “Miles City, Montana. I have relatives there.”

  “Going to live there or just to visit?”

  “I’m not sure. Always wanted to go out West.”

  “Me too,” Bess replied.

  Linda wore a long gray skirt, a blue woolen sweater that matched the color of her eyes, and a scarf that was a darker shade of blue. She puckered her lips slightly when she finished speaking, and her silky smooth hands were unlike those of someone who had any job requiring manual labor. Linda wore no ring nor any decorative jewelry, but her beauty needed no enhancement. She was feminine and seemed to have an outward confidence that was appealing. Yes, very appealing, Bess thought. Bess felt an immediate attraction to her.

  “Pleasant trip so far?” Bess asked.

  “Lonely, actually. I like to visit and there hasn’t been anyone on the train who seems to enjoy conversation. It’s been this way ever since Minneapolis. I’m actually from Hopkins.” She seemed to force a smile, then became silent for a few moments.

  Bess smiled. Suddenly, there was a slight jolt as the train started to move. Billows of black smoke from the engine drifted by the car as the train passed through the railyard where the smaller engine had stopped to wait for the westbound train to leave the station. There were a couple of grain elevators at the western edge of the railyard and Bess wondered if this was where the grain that the farmers left at Papa’s elevator would eventually be stored.

  “I love the wide-open countryside,” Linda said as she gazed out at the James River as the train passed over the bridge. “Really flat around here, but I guess it gets hilly after we pass Bismarck.”

  Bess didn’t know, but nodded in agreement. “That’s when we’ll really be in the West.”

  Linda smiled and lightly touched Bess’s shoulder. It was as though Bess had received some sort of mild shock. “I’m so excited,” Linda said.

  Bess tried to hide the excitement that Linda’s touch made her feel. “Me too. Just visiting relatives? Brother? Sister?”

  “Aunt and uncle. I’ve wanted to see them for a long time and now the time’s right. Just want to get away for a while.”

  “Running away from something?” Bess wondered why she said that. She hoped that Linda would not be offended.

  “I suppose you could say that. Was engaged to be married but broke it off. Just didn’t seem right to give up my independence.” With those words, she seemed to withdraw a bit.

  “I’m sorry,” Bess said. Engaged to be married, Bess thought.

  “Don’t be. It’s all right. I’ve ridden this train all night from Minneapolis and didn’t sleep much. It’s good to have someone to talk to. You going to visit relatives?”

  “No,” said Bess. “I’m moving west. Western North Dakota.”

  “That sounds exciting. Why western North Dakota?”

  “I want to homestead. To be a rancher.”

  “Now that is really exciting!” Linda said with enthusiasm. “What made you want to do that?”

  Bess explained that she had grown up on a farm and had always enjoyed ranching—raising sheep, mainly. “Always enjoyed the work,” she said. “Ever since I can remember. I just turned twenty-one and that’s how old you have to be to homestead.”

  “I’m twenty-one, too,” said Linda. “Always wanted to be independent. I grew up as the youngest of three daughters. My parents always told me what to do—learn how to cook, sew, dress like a lady, and prepare myself to be a wife, mother, and homemaker. I don’t want that. At least not now—if ever.”

  “Me, too,” said Bess. “What do you like to do?”

  “Well, I’ve always been athletic. I love outdoor activities—you know, swimming, gardening, playing tennis—much more fun than being stuck in a house doing girl things. You know what I mean?”

  “Exactly,” said Bess. Bess couldn’t agree more but was taken slightly aback by Linda’s candor. She had known this young woman for less than an hour and already she felt as though she had known her for a long time.

  “Sounds like we have the same interests,” said Linda.

  The train had picked up speed over the flat plains of North Dakota west of Jamestown headed for Bismarck and the Missouri River.

  “Please excuse me if I drift off to sleep,” said Linda. “The long ride.”

  Bess took a small blanket out of her carpetbag and placed it over her lap, partially covering Linda. “Me, too,” said Bess. She leaned her head back on the seat pillow and closed her eyes. Then, she felt Linda’s hand against hers and they intertwined their fingers. Bess felt lightheaded and her heart pounded in her chest. As the trained moved steadily forward, Bess drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

  Chapter Seven

  The train ride west of Jamestown was smooth compared to that from Leeds. The flat landscape, with the prairie on both sides, revealed the emerging bright-green color of the early spring grass. Occasionally Bess could see where farmers were preparing for planting their spring grain—the freshly plowed fields which she could only imagine smelled like those back home in Cando. The dark, damp-looking rich soil looked fertile and ready to produce abundant crops

  The prairie was vast. Big sky, grassland as wide as an ocean, thought Bess, and flat all the way to the horizon. Occasionally in the distance she could see what appeared to be small herds of sheep with someone on horseback obviously tending to the herd. Somehow the vista looked richer than she had imagined—maybe because of the intense excitement she felt about her dream of going west finally becoming a reality…or maybe because of the excitement she felt about her new friend holding her hand and sleeping soundly beside her. Bess smiled and closed her eyes—her heart filled with happiness as she clutched Linda’s soft hand and slowly drifted off to sleep.

  When Bess awoke, Linda’s head was resting on her right shoulder. It seemed unusual, but somehow Bess didn’t feel uncomfortable. She had a warm feeling of attraction to this beautiful young woman, a feeling that Bess had experienced only in her dreams—and, as she remembered, with Mary Ann. It made her heart race and her stomach flutter.

  Linda slept soundly through Sterling—the last stop before Bismarck—even as a family with several noisy children boarded and sat in the front of the car. Linda awoke with a start soon after the train pulled out of Sterling; she quickly sat up and looked at Bess in surprise. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I’m so sorry!”

  “You slept well.”

  “I was dreaming. Where are we?”

  “We stopped in Sterling. About a half hour out of Bismarck.”

  Linda nodded and looked out the window at the broad stretches of green prairie grass and plowed fields. “It’s beautiful,” Linda said as she gazed at the landscape of rich farmland. “It all looks so promising. Ready for spring
. My favorite time of the year.” She turned, smiled at Bess, and squeezed her hand.

  They didn’t say much as the train pulled into the Bismarck depot. Unlike the little train from Leeds, this train didn’t jerk when it stopped. The conductor came through the car and announced that the train would be stopped at the station for about an hour and it was fine for passengers to get off for a short while. Bess and Linda decided to do just that, if only to get some exercise.

  Bismarck was the biggest town Bess had ever seen. The main street had many buildings and shops that lined each side. Bess wished they had some time to explore, as she watched the hustle and bustle of city life from a distance.

  Bismarck was another railroad town, having been named in honor of the German chancellor, Otto von Bismarck, in the hope of attracting German immigrants to the West. It was located in the central part of the state. It was no wonder that the town had become the state capital.

  “Quite a city,” said Bess.

  Linda chuckled. “For as far west as it is, I’m sure. It’s tiny in comparison to Minneapolis.”

  “Well, for me it is.” Bess grinned.

  They had little time to experience Bismarck and lingered for only a few minutes outside the depot. Just casually walking around was enough, and since the train would be leaving shortly, they wanted to make sure they had sufficient time to settle into their seats. As they approached the waiting passenger car, the conductor was standing by the small footstep looking at his watch. “Welcome back, ladies,” he said cheerfully. “Leaving in five minutes.”

  Linda and Bess boarded the train and settled in for the remainder of the trip to Dickinson, which was expected to last three or four hours. The train whistle blew, and without even the slightest jerk, the train started to move slowly out of the station. We’re now entering the West, Bess thought with a feeling of excitement.

  As they crossed the Missouri River Bridge and into the town of Mandan, Bess remembered from her history studies that nearly a century ago, Lewis and Clark had been here during their epic exploration adventure. She wondered what they thought at the time.

  Almost immediately after crossing the large river, she saw the stark contrast between east and west. Eastern North Dakota was quite flat, green with the fresh prairie grass, and obviously suitable for farming. Western North Dakota, on the other hand, presented the rolling landscape of what Bess had imagined the prairie to be. Some of the occasional hills were unusual; there were white outcroppings on the sides of what appeared to be some sort of rock. As they traveled further west, the prairie grass still had a dark-tan and in some cases a light-brown color. Unlike east of the Missouri River, the winter cold still held a grip on the new green grass.

  “The land is beautiful,” said Bess. “It is just like I imagined it to be. We’re really in the West!”

  “You know,” Linda said, “President Roosevelt lived in this area in the late 1880s—actually further west in the badlands.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “It’s probably what made him tough,” Linda said. “And a good president.”

  “I wonder if it’s like this in South Dakota. The differences between east and west. Maybe someone should have created an East Dakota and a West Dakota.”

  Linda smiled. “Probably a good idea.”

  The ride on the Northern Pacific rail lines was smooth and the landscape was becoming a bit more hilly, but it still had that look of the rolling prairie. There appeared to be fewer towns and certainly fewer plowed fields along the way.

  The conductor, wearing a dark-blue suit with brass buttons and a round cap with a short black bill, came through the car and announced in a bored sort of way that they would be arriving in Dickinson in thirty minutes. Bess was excited, because it meant the end of a long trip but the beginning of her new life. It was disappointing that Linda would be continuing on to Miles City, Montana. Bess was thoroughly enjoying her company.

  “This is the end of the line for me,” Bess said. “I’m going to stay in Dickinson for a few days … purchase a few supplies. Find a way to get down south to the Hettinger or Haley area where I’ll homestead. I’ve got a plan.”

  “You’ll be in Dickinson for a few days?” Linda asked. “I thought you would immediately be going south.”

  “No, I have to prepare for the great unknown. My plan!” She chuckled.

  Linda was silent for a few minutes as she looked out the window at the passing prairie. Then she turned and looked at Bess. “I’m in no hurry to get to Miles City, Bess. If you’re going to be alone with lots of things to do, maybe you could use some help, or at least some company. I could stay over for a few days.” She paused. “But only if you want me to.”

  Bess was a bit taken aback, but a wave of excitement flowed throughout her body. Up until this moment, her thoughts had been focused on the tasks she would be facing after arriving and in no way did she even imagine that she would have a companion, especially a companion for whom she felt such an unusual attraction. Bess’s jaw nearly dropped as she looked at Linda with amazement and said, “Yes. That would be very nice.” Bess then took Linda’s hand and squeezed it slightly. Linda reciprocated, and another wave of excitement washed over Bess.

  The train pulled into the Dickinson station and Linda and Bess got off the passenger car. They found the agent who was unloading baggage and identified Bess’s two trunks. Linda had only two small carpetbags, which she had stored in the passenger car.

  The agent pointed to a man with a horse and buggy waiting at the station to provide assistance to travelers. Another wave of excitement charged through Bess as she and Linda headed in that direction. Bess politely asked the man if he would take them to a hotel and he suggested the Messer Hotel, which was not far from the train. After he helped them load their belongings in the back of the buggy, Bess and Linda climbed aboard and together they set off for the hotel. The streets were not paved, and they were fortunate that there had been no rain for a few days, because the streets would have been a sea of mud.

  When they arrived at the hotel after a very short ride, the hotel clerk gave them a room on the second floor that overlooked the main street. The clerk placed Bess’s two trunks beside a wall near the side window. The room was clean and painted pale blue, and the three windows were adorned with blue-and white-striped curtains. There was a single bed with a beautiful dark wood post at each corner, and after their long trip, it certainly looked very inviting. Bess wondered what Linda might be thinking about a single bed. But Linda seemed thrilled with the room and showed no concern.

  There was only one lavatory on the second floor, which would be shared with the female occupant of the other room across the hall. Bess and Linda were pleased with the accommodations and told the clerk that they would be staying for at least two days.

  Linda and Bess took turns freshening up in the lavatory, and at six o’clock they went downstairs to the dining area where they were joined by two older men who were passing through Dickinson and the elderly woman who was staying in the other room on the second floor. One of the men, a trim fellow who was probably in his early fifties, had a ruddy complexion and a neatly trimmed rusty-red beard. He spent most of the time complaining about the train trip from the West Coast. The other man, elderly with spectacles, white hair, a mustache, dirty fingernails, and a tattered black suit, said nothing during the whole meal.

  The elderly woman introduced herself as Phyllis. She was from Seattle, Washington, and had come to Dickinson to attend the funeral of a close friend. She was neatly dressed, had impeccable manners, and constantly talked about how beautiful it was on the West Coast. She talked about herself and her interests, which were mainly about her own family. Never did she ask either Linda or Bess any question about themselves or anything about North Dakota.

  The food was nothing special—roast beef and potatoes—but the lemon pie that was served for dessert was delicious. After supper, Bess and Linda decided to take a walk. The early evening was beginning to display the countl
ess stars in the darkening sky of western North Dakota. The dry streets made it possible for them to walk past the few stores in the many single and attached wooden buildings, and the two saloons that seemed to be quite busy and noisy. The town looked prosperous and growing, with several buildings under construction just off the main street.

  “Interesting people at supper,” Linda mused. “Phyllis probably likes us a lot because we listened to her!”

  “She doesn’t know anything about us,” said Bess. “Probably the reason she likes us!” She laughed and Linda giggled.

  They walked about a quarter-mile up Main Street and found the large general store where Bess told Linda that she would be purchasing supplies. She had read about this store and its large stock of supplies in a Dickinson newspaper, which Mrs. Arnett had obtained for her at the Cando library. The livery stable was just behind it, where she would hopefully find a horse to purchase. The land company office was across the main street from the general store; Bess knew she would be spending some time there the next morning looking over the various maps of potential homestead locations farther south.

  “I’m glad the places I need to go to tomorrow aren’t far away,” Bess said. “It’s so nice that you’re with me.” Bess looked at Linda, took her hand, and smiled.

  “It’s good for me, Bess,” Linda said. “I’m sorry I reacted a bit strangely when you asked me on the train if I was running away.” Linda paused for a moment, then continued. “It’s just that I broke off an engagement to a very nice man. He would have been a wonderful husband, but it just didn’t seem right.”

  “Really?” Bess said, as they slowly turned toward the hotel and started to walk slowly—holding hands.