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

by Charles Cranston Jett

  Jim got on the mower and took it back to the shed, unharnessed the horse, and put it in a stall. Bess mounted Annabel and galloped as fast as she could back to the house. When Bess went inside, Marion was again sitting with Helen and singing. She sat down, furious, and rolled a cigarette to calm her nerves.

  An hour or so later, Doc staggered into the house and went right to bed without saying a word or eating any of the supper she had prepared. Bess stormed into the bedroom and stood over him. “You damned fool! You damned fool! What were you thinking?” She shook with anger.

  Doc didn’t say anything. He just rolled over and went to sleep.

  The next morning, after another breakfast in silence, Bess said, “Doc, I think we have a problem. Want to talk about it?”

  Doc lifted his heavy head and stared at her. His eyes were bloodshot. She remembered how clear, how blue they had been when she first met him. He wasn’t the same man who had confidently driven the freight wagon. She felt a little chill, almost as if the man she had known had died.

  “I don’t have a problem, Bess,” he said calmly. Then he got up, put on his coat, and left the house.

  There were several inches of snow in the new year, 1915, but unlike the previous year, it warmed up between snowfalls and the snow didn’t last long. The warmer days melted the snow slowly so most of the runoff went into the ground and didn’t flood the river.

  Doc occasionally came home very late, drunk, and sometimes he didn’t bother to come home at all. It had been a few months since Bess had had a meaningful conversation with Doc, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him sober. They only time they did exchange words was when they decided to sell some of the cattle or some of the sheep. That would make Doc focus a bit, but he would soon revert back to the bottle. He’s a drunkard, Bess thought.

  Doc continued to drink and he had lost weight. He looked unhealthy. He didn’t seem to care what effect his drinking had on Bess or the children. Marion, Helen, and Billy were joyful children and liked to play outside. When they did, Bess would always be with them, and it pleased her to see them run and play in their innocence. Their happiness reassured her that their father’s drinking wasn’t taking too much of a toll on them, though it continually wore away at Bess herself.

  The pattern of Doc’s drinking, silence, and moodiness didn’t change through the end of the year. Bess had asked Jim Edgar to move the sheep wagon closer to the house so he could help if needed.

  The distraction of Doc’s drinking was not helpful. Bess was having difficulty dealing with her pregnancy but, fortunately, there was no bleeding or pain as had happened during the pregnancy with Nellie. A new baby would be due in April, and she was finding it difficult to do her work, let alone take care of three young children. Fortunately, Jim Edgar had become increasingly helpful, lending a hand around the house as well as his usual chores of taking care of the sheep and cattle.

  Bess wanted the baby out of her—into her arms. She hated the waiting, the lethargic feeling, the fear of a repeat of the previous pregnancy, and the reality of being somewhat trapped. Her belly had grown larger than it had during her earlier pregnancies, and her back ached as her entire weight rested upon it. She would look at her stretched skin and the vein-like tendrils that swept from side to side. Her white skin seemed to have long ruby-red lines drawn across it. She felt miserable and sometimes voiced her discomfort.

  After the last snow had melted and just at the start of lambing season, on April 8, 1915, a second son, Sidney, was born. Doc came home that evening drunk and went straight to bed. He didn’t even look at the baby, or ask what Bess had named it. He didn’t ask after Bess’ well-being. She sat in the dark that night in her rocking chair for as long as she could, hating the idea of lying down next to him, when he didn’t seem to care whether she and his baby lived or died. But she was exhausted from giving birth, and finally she had to get in bed with him. Her only consolation was that he was dead drunk; it was almost as if he wasn’t there at all.

  If only he would leave me alone for good, Bess thought. No more babies. No more trouble.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  It was mid-summer in 1915 and Bess hadn’t seen Mama and Papa since she left Cando in 1908 when she was twenty-one years old. Now, seven years later, she would soon be turning twenty-eight, was the owner of nearly fifteen hundred acres, had herds of sheep and cattle, four children … and a drunk for a husband, she thought.

  She was smoking more. Somehow, the process of rolling a cigarette, being able to hold it in her hand, and actually being in charge of what she was doing, gave her a feeling of control. She enjoyed the taste of the tobacco too, but would never go so far as to chew tobacco, as Papa did.

  Both lambing and shearing went off without a hitch, and she sold the wool at the highest price she had ever seen. She had excellent results with the cattle as well, with thirty-five new calves and a herd that was now over a hundred.

  Doc’s pattern of behavior—working for a while at home, going to his horse ranch for a few days, wandering into town to the saloon, getting drunk, and staggering home late at night—continued. Bess had to rely more and more on Jim Edgar to do the work around the ranch. Jim had even begun to tend to the cattle as well as the sheep, because Doc seemed to either forget that he should do it, or he would simply choose to ignore them, go into town, and drink.

  Financially, Bess had completely paid off the loan from the bank in Haley for the abandoned property she and Doc purchased, so she—and Doc, she assumed—were debt-free with money to spare. Doc still had about fifty or so horses at his homestead—Bess didn’t know for sure, but he seemed less and less interested in that business, too; or, for that matter, any business at all, thought Bess.

  In September, Bess went into Haley with Marion and Helen in the small buggy. She had gone into town only twice before with an infant at home and had asked Mrs. Collins, who had experience as a wet nurse, to spend part of the day in the house caring for and, if necessary, feeding Sidney. She thought the chances of her needing to nurse Sidney were slim, but it made her feel more comfortable being away and leaving him at home. Billy was not a worry because he was three years old and ate virtually any kind of food put before him.

  Bess had several stops to make in Haley. One was with a lawyer, Mr. Byrnes, who was holding the documents regarding her property. He reviewed them with her and pointed out that all of the property was in her name alone and Doc was not a co-owner. He asked Bess if she wanted to change that arrangement, and Bess quickly blurted, “No. Leave it be.”

  She went to the bank to get some money because she was going to purchase some yard goods, maybe a few clothes, and certainly new shoes for both Marion and Helen. She was surprised to learn from her banker, Elmer Thune, that Doc had his own bank account--he had opened it two years ago. Bess didn’t know if he was supposed to ask her about this account, but she believed he was just trying to be helpful when he had asked if her name should be on the account along with Doc’s. Bess was surprised, but calmly told him, “No, that’s the way we want it.”

  Bess had known nothing about Doc’s account, but it explained how he must have been able to pay for his whiskey. She didn’t find out, nor did she ask how much money was in the account, but she suspected that he might have sold a few horses and decided not to tell her about it. She wondered whether she should confront him with what she had learned, but decided against it. Learning about his secret account, however, was disturbing. Fortunately, Bess kept track of what she thought were all of their accounts and there had been no unexplained withdrawals of any kind.

  Bess then took the girls to the Currie Store to buy them some shoes and a couple of dresses. The store did not have a large inventory of shoes, but she could order from the catalog if need be. As Mrs. Currie was showing shoes to the girls, Bess was looking at some of the yard goods for materials from which she could make dresses. There was a young woman in her mid- to late-twenties standing near to Bess. She was wearing a light-blue
dress, and Bess immediately thought of Linda. The young woman looked at Bess and smiled broadly.

  “Hello,” she said. “Are those your children?” she asked as she pointed toward the smiling Marion and Helen.

  “Yes,” Bess replied. “My two daughters, Marion and Helen.”

  “The older girl will be ready for school soon?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m hoping to put Marion in the first grade next year.” Then Bess remembered hearing that there was a new schoolteacher in Haley. “Do you teach school?” she asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “Just started. My name is Anna Matthews. Annabel, really, but call me Anna.”

  Annabel! Just like my horse, Bess thought. “I’m Bess,”—she held out her hand—”Elizabeth Stewart, but call me Bess.” Bess was immediately struck by this young woman, as they stood and talked about her school while the children were being measured for their shoes. She was very attractive, slim, and had an engaging personality. Bess loved her smile—beautiful, pure white teeth and flashing blue eyes that matched her dress. She felt a familiar attraction to this lovely creature. Bess blushed. “Married?” she asked without thinking.

  “No,” she said. “Just here to teach. I’m boarding at the Curries’ place.”

  “They’re very nice.”

  Mr. Currie had finished fitting Marion and Helen for their shoes, so Bess turned to walk over to them. “It was very nice to meet you, Anna.”

  “My pleasure,” she said as she smiled again. Bess walked over to the girls, but couldn’t stop thinking about Linda and how she felt when she first met her so long ago. This is so similar, she thought.

  The girls were excited about the shoes, and Mr. Currie had a pair for each of them in stock. Along with some yard goods Bess had selected, she purchased the shoes as well as a sack of flour and some salt.

  On the way back to the homestead, Bess couldn’t stop thinking about Anna—and Linda—and her head was spinning. These old, suppressed feelings came charging to the surface, feelings that Bess thought were long gone. For a moment, she began to feel like her old self again and thought about those days. I must remember the young girl who was budding into a woman; the woman who woke up with a smile on her face, feeling as if she could take on the world. I can do that again!

  When they returned to the house, Bess thanked Mrs. Collins for watching the boys. After bringing in the yard goods, the sack of flour, and the salt, Bess helped the girls put on their new shoes and watched as her happy little children pranced around the room. Bess then sat down, rolled a cigarette, and smoked it. It had been a happy day. Happy, yes, until Doc came home drunk.

  This time Bess didn’t just look at him in disgust when he came in, staggering a bit toward the bedroom. She charged toward him, pointing an accusing finger in his face. “Damn you, Chris!” she screamed. The children were in their room, but she didn’t care if they heard her. “You’re always drunk!”

  Doc stopped, turned around, and staggered over to her. She took a step back, then stood her ground. “What you care for?” he slurred.

  “Damned drunk,” Bess spat. She glared at him as he swayed back and forth.

  Doc stood there for a moment, his eyelids heavy, unsteady on his feet. It was as if he didn’t know where he was for a second. Then he stood a little straighter and anger burned in his eyes. Before she could react, he whipped around and slapped Bess across the face. Hard. “Bitch!” he yelled. “Unnatural bitch!”

  Bitch … Bess had not heard that word since that awful man had attacked her so many years ago, but the word caused her body to seize up. And unnatural! Does he know why I don’t want him? Has he guessed? She couldn’t move and her body turned numb except for the burning sensation where Doc had slapped her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw her girls and Billy standing in the doorway in stunned silence. She looked over at them and felt like weeping. There was no way she would let Doc hurt her or the children.

  She turned to Doc, who had a sinister smile on his face. In a low, angry voice, she said, “Get out!” Doc threw his head back and laughed, causing spit to dribble down his chin.

  Bess clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her flesh. “Get out NOW!” she screamed.

  There must have been something in the way she looked—her angry eyes, her clenched jaw—but Doc stopped laughing and just stared at her. Then he grabbed his coat and stormed out of the house. He got on his horse and rode off.

  Bess slammed the door, sat down at the table, and had a cigarette to calm herself. It’s over, she thought, and she didn’t care if he ever came back. Unnatural bitch. The thought raced through her mind. So that’s what I am. I’m a freak of nature. She stared straight ahead and tapped her foot on the pine floor.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A few days later, after Bess was putting the children to bed, Ken Fisher barged through the front door without knocking and screamed, “Doc’s been shot!”

  Bess dropped the mug she was holding. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “What? Shot? Doc? He’s been shot?”

  “Yep. He’s alive, but hurt. Bad!” said Ken breathlessly. “They’re takin’ him to Dickinson in Currie’s wagon.” Ken was wide-eyed and visibly upset. His face was wet with sweat and his hands were shaking.

  “What happened?” Bess was shaken by the news, her face ashen.

  “Accident, I guess. Dad Elliott. You heard of him. Rowdy. Well-digger. Carries a six-gun. Happened at Kiley’s. Shot him in the leg.”

  “Only in the leg?”

  “Yeah, right leg, but it’s bad, I hear.” Ken pointed to his right thigh. “Broke it near the top. You know, the big thigh bone. Bad!”

  “How did it happen?” asked Bess. “Drinking?”

  “Guess Dad Elliot was just tryin’ to be funny, shootin’ at a spittoon or somethin’. He hit Doc instead.”

  Marion and Helen had gotten out of bed and were watching and listening to Ken as he was breathlessly telling Bess what had happened to Doc. Bess could sense their interest and concern. She walked over to them and knelt down, putting her arms on each of their shoulders. “Daddy’s been hurt,” she said calmly. “He’s okay, but Mama will have to go see him.”

  Helen started to cry, and Bess put her hands on her shoulders. Marion gave her a hug. “Daddy will be all right,” Bess said.

  “They took him to Dickinson?” Bess asked Ken.

  “Yep,” said Ken. “Currie’s wagon. Left a couple hours ago.”

  Bess thought for a moment about what she could do. She couldn’t leave the children alone, but she felt a real need to go to Dickinson to be with Doc. Whatever had happened between them, he was still the father of her children, and she still cared about him for their sake. That damned drunk, she thought. I knew something like this might happen.

  “I gotta go to Dickinson, Ken,” Bess said.

  “Sure, Bess,” said Ken. “Mrs. Collins might be able to help. My missus, too.”

  “Doc’s horses?”

  “I kin look after ’em,”

  “I’ll go in the morning.” Bess was thinking about the trip she would need to make. Eighty miles, she thought. Same trip I made when I first came to Haley.

  “I’ll see about Mrs. Collins,” said Ken. “She or Sarah will be here around sunup tomorrow. You can leave then. Don’t worry about the horses over east. I’ll go over there tomorrow.”

  Bess’s mind was spinning as Ken rode away toward Haley. She appreciated his friendship and genuine concern. The last time she had seen Doc was nearly a week ago when he had slapped her and left the house for good, or at least Bess had hoped so. She couldn’t remember when she had ever felt such anger at another person. Now what? she thought. She felt concern for Doc. He’s the children’s father, she told herself over and over again. Damn him!

  Then a new wave of worries washed over her. What would happen if Doc were crippled for life? What if he died? She felt rather cold toward Doc. Worried about him, sure, but cold. Do I love him? she wondered. In a way, yes. But
he brought this on himself, and I don’t know if I can forgive such foolishness.

  At dawn the next morning, Ken and Sarah Fisher rode up to the house in Ken’s buggy as Bess was preparing to leave. The early-morning sun painted a beautiful picture on the frost-covered Teepee Buttes toward the West. It was cold but not bitter. Ken and Sarah were bundled up in their winter coats. “Sarah will stay with the kids today and tomorrow,” said Ken. “Then Mrs. Collins will come and stay until you’re back. How long you think you’ll be gone?”

  “Hard to tell,” Bess said as she tied her canvas bag behind the saddle on the waiting and patient Annabel. “Five or six days, I suppose. It takes two days to ride up and two days to come back. I’ll stay over in New England.”

  Bess went into the house and kissed the children goodbye. “Will Daddy come home with you?” asked Marion with a look of concern on her face.

  “Not this time, honey,” Bess said as she hugged the children.

  I wonder if he will ever come back, she thought as she mounted Annabel and set out for her first stop in New England. It would be an eight- to ten-hour ride, but the temperature had risen enough so that she felt comfortable in the breeze as Annabel trotted gently toward the Grand River Bridge.

  The route to New England had changed considerably since Bess made her initial trek to Haley in 1908. Now there was more than just wagon ruts. In places, there was actually a road that was suitable for the new automobiles that seemed to frequent Haley more and more each month. They’re not too good in the mud, Bess thought. The deep ruts were silent testimonials to their struggles with nature. Bess rode on the side of the road where the ripened tan prairie grass was bent over, but the footing for Annabel was firm.