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

by Charles Cranston Jett

  The prairie grass in each of the sections was thick and healthy. This would be helpful in providing good sod for the house, but turning over the thick sod with a plow to create a grain field would be more difficult. To make a grain field profitable would take about twenty acres, but Bess wasn’t really interested in that, nor did she have any experience with grain farming. There was plenty of space, feed, and water for livestock.

  By early afternoon, she had finished exploring the sections that she had chosen, and returned to Haley where she put Annabel in the stable next to the small hotel. She explored Haley on foot, stopping occasionally at the various stores—a small dry goods store, a bakery, and a butcher shop.

  She waited until the end of her walking tour to go into the Currie Store where her supplies from Dickinson had been shipped and were being held. As she entered the store, a portly and slightly balding man wearing glasses with no rims and a brown leather apron that had slight stains of grease turned and said warmly, “Good morning, Miss. New around here?”

  Bess smiled. “Good morning. I’m Bess Parker, and yes, I arrived only yesterday.”

  “Orville Currie,” said the man with a smile. “I’m the proprietor here. Parker? I think we have a shipment here for you.”

  “Yes,” said Bess. “Thank you.”

  “Here with your family?” asked Mr. Currie.

  “No, alone.”

  Mr. Currie smiled. “Are you the new teacher?”

  New teacher? Bess paused. “No, I’m here to homestead.”

  Mr. Currie stared blankly at Bess. “Well,” he said as he paused, “good. If we can be of any help, please let us know.” He then turned to another customer who had come to the front counter to make payment on some dry goods.

  There were two long aisles—both with tall shelves on each side—and Bess walked slowly down the one closest to the counter where she had visited with Mr. Currie. At the end of the aisle she could see the two German immigrants, Karl and Derek. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly.

  Each bolted upright as though they were coming to attention. “Good morning,” said Karl.

  “Guten Morgen,” said Derek. Derek was obviously uncomfortable using English, or perhaps didn’t speak it well.

  “Wir going to Lemmon tomorrow,” said Karl. “Forty miles to the east.” He pointed in a direction that he thought might be east.

  Bess was growing fond of these two pleasant German immigrants. “Have you found out about the trail?” asked Bess.

  “Ja,” said Karl. “We go first to Hettinger. Then Lemmon.”

  “What time do you plan on leaving?” asked Bess.

  “Soon after breakfast,” said Karl.

  Derek nodded. “Breakfast,” he said, smiling.

  “We’ll meet here?” asked Bess.

  “Better at livery,” said Karl. “Our horses there.”

  Bess nodded. “See you after breakfast,” she said.

  Both men nodded and said, “Ja,” almost in unison.

  Bess smiled as she walked away. So pleasant, she thought. She felt safe knowing that she would be traveling the trail from Haley to Lemmon with them.

  Bess left the Currie Store and went back to the hotel after stopping at the small shack where the local newspaper was published to pick up the current issue as well as a couple of back issues to read. The newspaper was small—only two pages—but Bess felt that it would help her become more familiar with the town.

  Back at the hotel and after supper, Bess went to her room and wrote a short letter to Linda telling her a bit about her trip on the trail from Dickinson and that she had looked over the sections of land they had identified. It’s encouraging, she wrote. Bess told her in the letter that she should address her letters to her in care of the Currie Store. She wanted to express how she felt about Linda, but couldn’t find the right words. Bess wrote that she missed her and was looking forward to seeing her in Bowman in the near future. It gave Bess such pleasure to communicate with Linda, even though it was only a letter. She wished that Linda was in Haley with her.

  Early the next morning, Bess packed a small bag for the trip to Lemmon. She hurriedly ate a small breakfast in the hotel dining room and left the hotel to go to the livery to get Annabel and meet up with Karl and Derek. She knew that the trip would take at least three or four days down and back, and for safety she had packed her loaded revolver in her bag where she could have easy access. She hoped she wouldn’t need it.

  Karl and Derek, smiling as usual, were waiting for her at the livery when she went to fetch Annabel for the journey.

  When they left the livery, Bess stopped briefly at the Currie Store. She mailed the letter to Linda and purchased a small bag of crackers in case she became hungry along the way. Then together the three travelers set out on the journey to Hettinger, a new town that had been recently founded as a rail stop for the new Pacific extension of the Milwaukee Road Railway. From her research, Bess knew that the Milwaukee Road tracks led westward from Hettinger through the towns of Scranton and Bowman, and out through Montana to Miles City. and couldn’t help thinking that Linda would be riding on that train to Bowman when they would next meet.

  The thirty-mile trip was long but easy, and they moved at a steady pace, mostly with the horses trotting. Annabel seemed to enjoy the exercise. The town of Hettinger, if you could call it a town, had few buildings, making Bess worry that she might have to camp out in the open for the night. As she was looking for a place to stay, an elderly man emerged from a building across the street from the livery. Bess led Annabel over to him and dismounted.

  “Good day, sir,” she said. “I’m wondering if there might be a boarding house where I could find a room for the night.”

  “Good day to you, miss,” he said. He introduced himself as Mr. Newman, and told Bess that he had just completed the construction of the building behind him--a small bank called the Security Bank. “There are no boarding houses in town,” he said, “but I can offer you a small room on the second floor of the bank building to sleep.” Like many of the proprietors of businesses like those in Haley, he was neatly dressed and had an engaging smile. He was very pleasant and seemed genuinely concerned that Bess should have a safe place to spend the night. “Let me show you.”

  Bess tied Annabel to a hitching rail in front of the building and Mr. Newman led her inside the bank to a staircase near the back. Upstairs he showed her a small room that was unpainted and stark, but contained a small cot. “It’s not much, miss,” he said, “but it’s safe. You can stay here if you wish.”

  Bess was relieved. Yes, the room was stark, but there was a small table and chair and the room had a window with no curtains overlooking the street where she could clearly see the livery. “You’re very thoughtful,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Bess went downstairs and outside with Mr. Newman and told Karl and Derek that she would be spending the night in the upstairs of the new bank. They agreed to meet in front of the livery in the morning to continue the trip to Lemmon. Bess took Annabel to the livery and arranged for her to be stabled and fed for the evening.

  The next morning when Bess awoke she worried about the importance of the upcoming day. Today is the day when I’ll file my claim, she thought. She was anxious about the sections of land that she had explored, and hoped they would be available for her to file.

  Mr. Newman had provided her with some fresh bread and sausage as a breakfast. “It’s not much,” he said, “but we don’t have any restaurants. I hope this will be satisfactory. Will you be returning?”

  Such a nice man, she thought. “Thank you, Mr. Newman. Yes, this is fine,” she said. “Tomorrow afternoon.” At least--I hope tomorrow afternoon, she thought.

  Bess met up with Karl and Derek across the street at the livery, wondering where they might have spent the night. Together the three prospective homesteaders completed the 25-mile trip to Lemmon, South Dakota, on a good trail close by the Milwaukee Road train tracks. They arrived in midafternoon and immediately wen
t to the county office where they would file their homestead claims.

  The office was located in the corner of the county building and was quite small—a counter and a single table placed near a bulletin board. Karl pointed to the counter and motioned for Bess to be first in line.

  The manager, a young man with glasses, wearing a starched white shirt and black bow tie, greeted her warmly.

  “Good afternoon, miss,” he said.

  “I want to file for a homestead,” said Bess politely to the young man. “I am looking to file just south of the town of Haley.”

  The young man, noting that the woman in front of him appeared to be quite young, said, “I need proof of age.”

  Bess was prepared, and took her birth certificate out of her bag and laid it on the counter confidently.

  The manager looked carefully at the birth certificate, looked Bess in the eye and said, “Fine, miss. Just a moment.”

  He retrieved two large maps detailing the tracts of land south of Haley. “Most of the recent claims filed during the spring were between Lemmon and Hettinger.”

  Bess pointed to the section that was directly south of Haley and in South Dakota bordering the state line.

  “That section is available,” said the manager. Then he pulled out two application forms and told Bess to fill them out. “You can use that table over there.” He pointed to the empty table with two wooden chairs.

  Bess was delighted, took the forms and began to fill them out while Karl and Derek spoke to the manager about what they were seeking.

  Filling out the forms was surprisingly easy, and when Bess was finished, she gave them to the manager as Karl and Derek were filling out their forms.

  The manager looked at the forms carefully, and then signed each form, giving one of them to Bess. “There you go, miss. Everything is in order. You understand that you will have five years to prove up on your claim? You can do that by simply providing us with a letter of endorsement from local residents. Then your homestead will be yours forever.” He smiled.

  “Bess was almost breathless but managed to say, “Thank you, sir. Thank you!”

  Karl and Derek had completed their forms and went to the counter as Bess sat down at the table to read the documents that the manager had given to her.

  The official description of Bess’s homestead was as follows:

  Lots one, two and three of Section twenty-two in Township twenty-three north of Range eight east of the Black Hills meridian, South Dakota, containing one hundred seventy-eight and forty-nine-hundredths acres.

  Bess was ecstatic. Thrilled. I did it, she thought. I’ve filed! She knew that there were 160 acres that comprised a quarter section, but apparently the difference was because her claim was located right on the state line—she didn’t know exactly why, but was not about to dispute it. A few extra acres were fine with her! From the map, Bess could see that the tract of land was almost exactly one half-mile south from Haley. She was delighted.

  She said farewell to Karl and Derek and spent the night at a small boarding house near the stable. She slept well, knowing that her goal of filing for a homestead had been successful. Before going to bed, she wrote a short letter to Mama and Papa, telling them of the good news and that her trip had been successful thus far.

  The next morning, she set out for Hettinger alone, hoping that she would again be able to spend the night in the bank building as Mr. Newman had promised before traveling on to her new home in Haley. She knew that Derek and Karl intended to stay in Lemmon, because they had filed a claim not far from the town and would have no need to go to Haley. The thought of traveling alone didn’t upset Bess because she had confidence that she would be safe, and also had her loaded revolver just in case. After she left the town, she stopped momentarily to double-check that it was loaded.

  When she arrived in Hettinger, she went to the Security Bank. Mr. Newman was there and greeted her warmly.

  “I have a surprise for you,” he said with a broad grin. “Yes, your room is ready and we are delighted that you will stay. Now,” he continued, “here is your surprise!”

  He went to a counter and brought over a small newspaper and gave it to Bess. The Adams County Register was a paper that was published weekly for the homesteaders in the area. With a broad grin, he pointed to the front page of the paper, where there was a short article about Bess! It read:

  Miss B.L. Parker of Haley, South Dakota, enjoys the distinction of being the first woman to spend the night in Hettinger. She and a party of claim hunters arrived here on Monday evening. Mr. Newman very kindly offered the use of the newly completed bank building and very comfortable quarters were arranged for her. There will be numerous expressions that the greatest treasure ever carried in the Security Bank was on the occasion of its night’s occupancy.

  Bess was taken slightly aback. I’m famous, she thought … or at least she was famous in the new little town of Hettinger! The article made her smile, and Mr. Newman was clearly quite pleased with it.

  The next morning before leaving for Haley, Mr. Newman provided her with another generous serving of fresh bread and sausage.

  “I must pay you for the accommodations,” she said.

  “No, Miss Parker,” he said. “It has been our pleasure to have you as our first guest!”

  Bess tried to insist, but when he continued to refuse, she acquiesced and accepted his gift of lodging.

  “Thank you for your generosity,” she said, shaking his hand.

  She then mounted Annabel for the solo trip back to Haley and to her new homestead. Before she departed, she checked her revolver in her bag to assure herself that it was loaded and easy to access.

  The long trip back to Haley was uneventful, and having a loaded revolver somehow gave Bess a sense of security even though she wasn’t certain that she would ever use it. She arrived in the late afternoon and stopped at the Currie Store before going to the hotel for the night.

  Mr. Currie greeted her warmly. “I have a letter for you, Miss Parker,” he said. He handed Bess a small envelope and Bess immediately saw that it was from Linda. Bess was delighted and hurriedly went to the stable to take care of Annabel, then straight to the hotel to read the letter.

  Linda had written a very nice two-page letter in beautiful handwriting. She expressed how wonderful she felt about meeting Bess and how much she enjoyed the time they spent together in Dickinson. She described her journey on the Northern Pacific train as being very comfortable, that she had arrived safely, and was now living with her aunt and uncle. Bess was happy that Linda included a few sentences saying that she missed her and was looking forward to setting a date in the early autumn or late summer when they could meet in Bowman.

  Bess immediately wrote a short letter in return, telling her about the journey to Lemmon and that she had been successful in filing for one of the homestead quarter sections that they had identified together. When she was finished, she walked to the Currie Store and posted the letter to be sent the following day.

  Bess had been ecstatic that that she had heard from Linda, and after a hearty supper she went to her room, read the letter again a couple more times, and slept soundly. Tomorrow would be the day for her to begin preparations to build a new sod house on her homestead. Success! she thought.

  Bess was now anxious to begin the next step in her exciting adventure.

  Chapter Eleven

  Bess awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. While she was a bit sore from riding so much the past few days, she had to power through the pain. She’d finally made it! But now the work begins, she thought. She quickly hopped out of bed, got dressed, and headed down to the Currie Store. She asked Mr. Currie if there was anyone who could help her construct her sod house.

  “Brian Feist has built several,” Mr. Currie said. “He owns the lumberyard down the street. You need someone who knows how to frame doors and windows, and he can do it.”

  “Brian Feist?” she asked.

  “Brian Feist. Been in Haley for a
few years. He was one of the first in town. Good man. Fair, too. You’ll like him.”

  Bess went to the lumberyard, which was on the east part of town near the school. There was a small building in front of a large deep-red-colored shed-like structure that had “Haley Lumber” painted in large white letters near the roof. The small building was obviously the office, and Bess walked inside where a disheveled woman was busy shuffling some papers on a messy desk.

  “Excuse me,” Bess said, “but I’m looking for a Mr. Feist.”

  “In the yard out behind,” the woman said without looking up from what she was doing.

  Bess nodded and went outside. To the right and behind the small office was the lumberyard with many stacks of neatly piled planks, two-by-fours, and one large pile of what appeared to be firewood in the far corner near the high-board fence. A man was unloading a wagon stacked high with planks of lumber.

  “Mr. Feist?” Bess asked as she walked over.

  As he put a long board on one of the stacks of lumber he was building, he looked up and said with a smile, “Hi there, I’m Brian Feist.” He was sweating and pulled a dirty white handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe his brow. He wore dark-blue coveralls and heavy gloves. Removing the glove from his right hand, he smiled and reached out to shake Bess’s hand in a friendly greeting.

  “Bess,” she said, shaking his hand. “Bess Parker. The lady in the office said I could find you here.”