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

by Charles Cranston Jett

  When Linda was about to board the westbound train, they hugged one last time. The conductor was standing near and smiled as he helped her onto the steps of the passenger car. She reached out and touched Bess’s hand before climbing up the stairs, and that magical warmth flowed throughout her body. Bess’s eyes burned and her lip quivered, but she choked back her tears. She could see the tears in Linda’s eyes as well.

  The passenger car was a glistening dark-green color, with pale-green trim, and looked new. Bess hoped it would be comfortable for Linda on her trip to Miles City. She walked to a place on the platform, near the center of the car, and saw that Linda had taken her seat beside the window. When Linda looked up, their eyes met, and a beaming grin filled her face. Linda’s lips moved and she was saying something to Bess that she could not understand.

  “Goodbye until Bowman!” Bess mouthed the words, hoping that she would understand. Linda smiled and said something, but Bess couldn’t make it out. Inwardly, Bess’s heart spoke to her. Bess mouthed the words “I love you.” She thought that Linda said the same thing and her heart filled with joy. How can I feel this way in such a short time? she thought. What is it … love? It must be. Nothing else could create a feeling so sublime.

  The train whistle blew and Bess heard the distinctive chugging of the massive engine as it began to smoothly move forward and out of the station. She walked alongside the car smiling at Linda until she reached the end of the cement platform, and watched as Linda slowly disappeared from view. Bess stood there in silence. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn’t cry. Her heart ached and it seemed like her world could come crashing down if she only let it. But her mind was thinking ahead to Bowman. “Bowman…” she whispered.

  As Bess walked back to the hotel, she focused on her upcoming journey across the North Dakota prairie to Haley. She needed to pick up her belongings, make sure that her trunks had been picked up by the freight line, and go to the livery to get Annabel. It was time to focus. Focus on her plan.

  Bess felt anxious as she checked out of the hotel and prepared to face the trip to Haley. She felt that she knew, at least in theory, what she would be encountering—the vast prairie, not from the safety of a rail car moving confidently across the plains, but on a horse, with an endless sky and unknown perils along the way. She had no companion, other than Annabel, whom she barely knew, to offer her feelings of comfort or safety. She must rely on her wits—Have confidence in yourself and in your plan, she thought.

  Riding Annabel, she arrived at the freight line depot promptly at noon and could see the hustle and bustle of the freight driver getting the six-mule team and the two large wagons loaded with freight ready for departure. Annabel seemed ready for some exercise, and while a bit frisky, was even-tempered as they approached the freight wagon and the six mules. The noise and the other animals didn’t bother her.

  Two men were standing by their horses at the rear of the two wagons and looked as though they would be traveling with the freight wagons to Haley as well. Bess took a deep breath and rode over to them, dismounted, and introduced herself. She felt that she should demonstrate that she knew what she was doing—something Papa had always told her to do. “Look like you know what you’re doing,” he said, “and people will think that you do.” Bess hoped that advice was true.

  “Good afternoon,” she said as she dismounted.

  Each of the two men removed their hats and stood up straight as though coming to attention. “Good afternoon,” they said almost in unison.

  “My name is Bess. Bess Parker,” she said. “I’m going to Haley.”

  The taller man responded immediately. “Miss,” he said. He looked as though he was lost for words, and the other man said nothing.

  Bess learned that their names were Karl and Derek and they were two immigrants from Germany. While they spoke English, they had a definite German accent. They wore broad hats to deflect the sun, and dark-brown shirts, with dark-blue baggy pants and clumsy-looking boots. They both had rather shaggy mustaches. Karl was short—about five foot five, Bess imagined—and Derek was just slightly taller than Bess’s five-foot-eight-inch height. Each was rather stocky, suggesting that they had certainly enjoyed a rich German diet. They were very pleasant and seemed eager to depart.

  “Werden wir Lemmon, South Dakota,” said the taller man--Derek. Then he corrected himself. “We go to Lemmon. Homestead.”

  “Did you just arrive in Dickinson?” asked Bess.

  “Ja,” said Derek. “From Munich. Deutschland. Germany.”

  Karl just smiled and nodded gracefully.

  Bess smiled and nodded back. Then she turned toward the freight wagons and the driver who was examining the hitch between the two wagons.

  She walked up to the driver, extended her hand and said, “I’m Bess Parker.”

  The driver shook her hand and said, “Chris. Chris Stewart. People call me Doc.” He was very handsome and quite well-dressed in a dark twill suit with a wrinkled and stained white shirt with a bowtie, unusual considering that he would be driving a freight wagon over the rough Dickinson-Haley trail. His large hat covered his thick dark-brown hair. He had a square jaw and a look of authority in his sparkling blue eyes. “Goin’ all the way down to Haley?” he said in a raspy voice that was surprisingly pleasant.

  “Yes,” Bess replied.

  “Lucky there’s no mud, and it looks like it won’t rain,” he said. He had obviously made that trip many times and looked relieved that he wouldn’t have to cope with a muddy trail. Bess agreed with him. “Leaving shortly.”

  Doc showed Bess that her trunks had been stowed safely aboard the trailing wagon. He said that he made the trip twice a week, and while it wasn’t a hard haul, it took about a day and a half. He said they would be stopping for the night in the little town of New England about twenty-five miles away, where there were many places to stay. Bright and early tomorrow morning they would travel the final twenty-five miles to Haley.

  “We’ll get to New England just before sundown,” he said. “Lots of trails out this way. Some go all the way to the Black Hills in South Dakota. Long trip, that one. Gotta cross the gumbo country too, and that ain’t no fun.”

  During Bess’s research, she’d learned that “gumbo” was a word for a type of mud that was found mostly in northwestern South Dakota. It was primarily clay, and when it got wet, it was slick. The problem, however, was not so much that it was slick; it was that the mud was very sticky and tended to stick to the wheels of the wagons and also made things difficult for horses. Bess had studied the landforms around Haley and found that there was not a lot of clay in that area, so she hoped she would be free from any nasty gumbo problem when it rained.

  Doc finished examining the hitch, which Bess assumed was in order, and climbed slowly up on the front wagon behind the team. He turned back toward Karl and Derek, nodded politely to Bess, and said loudly, “Let’s go.” He then cracked the whip, gave the reins a shake, and the team started to move ahead with a jerk.

  Bess mounted Annabel and waited until Karl and Derek rode ahead. Then she fell in behind the two Germans.

  Doc pulled the wagons out of the freight station and left Dickinson promptly at noon. The trail they were taking led south, and Bess noticed the ruts made from the many wagon trips that had traveled this trail. When the ruts got too deep, they just moved over to the left or right of the ruts and made a new trail. On this one, there were at least three sets of deep ruts, which Doc avoided with the freight wagon.

  Bess marveled at the beauty of the countryside as they slowly moved south toward the town of New England. It was pure virgin prairie with broad ranges of green grass, which would turn into vast seas of light-brown or tan broad stretches of waving hay during the summer and into autumn. She didn’t feel any sort of danger; on the contrary, she had a feeling of exhilaration that, at long last, she was on the move. It’s real, she thought.

  There were many small hills visible on both sides of the trail, but they weren’t very
high and the grass grew up to and sometimes onto the tops. Some had small outcroppings of white stone--like those she had seen on the train before she and Linda arrived at Dickinson. One hill to the right had a chimney-looking structure on top. Bess wondered what that was and rode up by the freight wagon and asked Doc, “What is that on top of the hill over there?” She pointed to the hill on the distant right.

  “That’s a stone Johnnie,” Doc said loudly above the clatter of the two wagons. “Sheep herders build ’em on top of hills sort of like a monument to something. They just pile up the flat rocks they find. Gives ’em something to do.” Bess thought that was interesting, and Doc said that they were helpful because they made it easy for you to know exactly where you were when you were on a trail. “You can look for particular stone Johnnies, but not all the hills have ’em.”

  Riding along behind the freight wagon with Karl and Derek gave Bess a lot of time to think, because they weren’t very talkative. Remarkably, she felt safe. Of course she thought about Linda and what she might be doing.

  Bess imagined that Linda’s aunt and uncle would be meeting her at the train later in the afternoon and they would be probably at their house in Miles City getting acquainted or reacquainted, as the case might be. Bess wondered if Linda would tell them about her. They would probably be having supper soon, and Bess wondered what they would have cooked for her. Bess wished she could be with her--or better still, that Linda could be on a horse riding to Haley with her. Bess missed her—her laugh, her smile, her jokes, her magical touch. She felt thankful that she would have much to do after arriving in Haley and would have to focus her thoughts on the challenges ahead instead of dwelling on Linda. That would be difficult, Bess knew, but she welcomed the change. That’s why I came out here, Bess thought.

  The long ride was somewhat monotonous until at the crest of a small rise, Doc pointed to the south and shouted, “New England!”

  It was just before sundown—as Doc predicted--when they pulled into the little town of New England for the night. New England was one of the first towns founded in western North Dakota, primarily by settlers from New England, as the name suggested. It grew rapidly until the Northern Pacific Railroad laid down tracks from Bismarck to Dickinson and the town’s growth stopped abruptly because of the lack of convenient access to transportation. Nevertheless, it appeared to be flourishing quite well and there were several places for Bess to choose from to spend the night.

  Bess was tired after the long ride, but she quickly found a nice boarding house near the place where Doc had placed the freight wagons. The stable beside it could keep and feed Annabel for the night.

  Bright and early the next morning, they left New England for the 25-mile journey to Haley. As they were traveling south, Doc pointed out the major landmark for New England: the Rainy Buttes that were a few miles southwest of the town. This was the first time Bess had seen what some referred to as a table mountain. It was a hill with steep and rocky outcrops of rocks on the side but looked completely flat on the top, like a huge table might look from a distance. The sides of the butte were pockmarked with green shrubs, and the prairie leading up to it was green with the new growth of the prairie hay.

  Off and on during the long journey from New England to Haley, Bess’s thoughts returned to Linda. She had dreamt about her during the night, but the dream was fuzzy in her memory. All she remembered was that it was happy and Linda was arriving on a train. Thoughts of their plans for Bowman swept through Bess’s mind like a rush of fresh air.

  The freight wagon and accompanying settlers proceeded south slowly but steadily and arrived in Haley in the late afternoon.

  Bess’s immediate thoughts when she could finally see the little town nestled down a long hill near the river were, I’ve arrived! This will be my home!

  The little town was on the Grand River, a small river that occasionally flooded because of ice jams that would build up in the twisted bends of the river as it meandered eastward through the prairie toward the Missouri River. It was one of the oldest towns in the area and, like New England, had grown rapidly until the railroads bypassed it to the north. The town rested on a small plain just a half-mile north of the North Dakota/South Dakota state line and had several businesses where Bess would be able to obtain supplies. There were two hotels, a pool hall, two general stores (one was the Currie store where her supplies would be dropped off), a bank, school, lumberyard, barbershop, and a butcher shop. They even had a local newspaper called the Haley Herald, which had been established the previous year.

  Doc drove the freight wagons onto the single street that went through the little town and stopped abruptly. “Haley,” he said. He pointed to his right at a small wooden building beside what was obviously a livery and looked at Bess. “You should stay there, Bess. It’s the best place here. Stable your horse, too,” he said as he pointed to the livery.

  “Thank you, Doc,” said Bess. She waved at Doc, nodded to Karl and Derek, and steered Annabel to the livery for the night.

  The small hotel had several rooms available and Bess took one on the second floor. It was clean, but rather small, with one window overlooking the street and the other overlooking the stable. The hotel had a dining room where dinner was served promptly and she had a hearty meal.

  The trip had been long and tiring. Bess had talked with Karl and Derek who said that they would be starting on their trip to Lemmon, South Dakota, the day after tomorrow. Bess agreed to join them for the journey because she felt comfortable with them. Tomorrow she planned to saddle up Annabel and go south to look at the sections of land that she and Linda had identified just across the state line from Haley.

  Thoughts about safety and the reality of where she was rushed through her mind. I’m alone, she thought. All alone out in the West. But it’s where I want to be! I can do it. This is just the beginning.

  As Bess slept that night, she dreamt of Linda. In the middle of the night she awoke, but felt no warm body next to her. Bess longed for her touch. Then she thought about Bowman and slept soundly.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning was crisp, but the skies were clear, with only a few clouds. This day will be one of exploration, Bess thought. But she was filled with apprehension and outright worry. Would the land be as she read about? Would there be good soil—not gumbo—and good grass for the livestock? Water? Focus, she thought. Stick to the plan.

  Bess wanted to look over the sections of land that she and Linda identified at the land office in Dickinson. All of the sections were across the state line in South Dakota, which was only a mile south of town.

  After a good breakfast at the hotel dining room, she saddled up Annabel and they set out to explore the land across the state line. There was a steel girder bridge across the Grand River just south of Haley, which was fortunate, because the snow that had melted had raised the water level significantly and the current was rather swift. The hotel manager told her that the creek level was normally low enough so you could ford the river easily. He referred to the creek as being “up,” meaning that it was near flood stage. Bess noticed that he pronounced the word creek as “crick.” Local, she thought.

  There was no fence at the state line, but there was a large pink granite marker. Bess and Annabel crossed the imaginary line and started to explore. The prairie was quite beautiful in the early spring with many wildflowers in bloom—bluebells, crocus, and hints of black-eyed Susans. As far as she could see from the east to the west and south, the prairie grass was green and, like the trail from Dickinson, the ground was slightly moist, but not muddy from the spring rains. Thankfully there’s no gumbo, thought Bess.

  To the west were the Teepee Buttes, a group of hills clustered together. They weren’t very high and looked like a group of low cone-shaped hills. Bess understood the origin of their name, because they looked like a distant Indian village of teepees. Apparently, there were a lot of prairie rattlesnakes, because the many loose and flat rocks gave snakes good places to hide and bask in th
e warm sun. None of the teepees had stone Johnnies on their tops.

  She knew there would also be an abundance of wildlife in the area. Pheasants were plentiful, as were a variety of ducks on the Grand River. There were many other birds as well--meadowlarks, with their bright yellow breasts and distinctive song; killdeers, tawny white birds that ran around on the ground trying to stir up insects. There were also unusual birds called curlews, characterized by a long, slender, down-curved bill and mottled brown plumage, as well as blackbirds and barn swallows—fast-flying little birds that built mud nests on the sides of barns under the eaves.

  In the distance near the river she could see a couple of hawks circling lazily over the brush that bordered the river. Ranchers and farmers didn’t like “chicken hawks,” because now and then they were known to nab a young chicken or two. They were really red-tailed hawks and Bess knew they didn’t deserve the name “chicken hawk,” or any blame for attacking adult chickens.

  The primary predator in this area was the coyote, which posed a real danger to sheep. They sometimes killed adult sheep, but most often the lambs. There was a bounty on their heads. Other animals included muskrats, beavers, raccoons, and badgers. Bess was told not to fool around with badgers because they were ill-tempered and had very sharp claws.

  Over the next couple of hours, she rode over three sections of land that she thought would be suitable for homesteading. All three sections looked very promising, but the one she liked the best was located directly south of Haley on the state line. It was mostly flat but had a small hill on the eastern side, which seemed to be a perfect location to construct the homestead buildings. As she had planned to build a sod house—common in this area—she knew that locating it on the side of a gentle hill would be smart because she could dig into the hill, and part of the back wall would be the hill itself. That would be a good plan if the soil in the side of the hill was a dry clay, to diminish the possibility of wall leakage. This would also eliminate the amount of sod that she would need and would provide easy access to the roof, because she would be able to walk right onto it.