Chapter 11

On the Road Again ... and Again ... and Again

Dec 3, 1857

We arrived in Omaha shortly after noon today. The rest of the afternoon was another tumultuous, continuous, parade of wagons taking people to Libertyville. When the initial wagons returned, I noticed that the wagon drivers were all Negroes, probably to help make our new additions more relaxed. I was glad to find Emma and Wendy doing well, as well as Emma’s and my son, Jim Jr., and Wendy’s and my daughter, Violet.

Nathan and his mother held an emotional reunion. We had enough room at our house that his family stayed with us until we built more homes this spring. While we were gone, they had built four more of the warehouse-style dormitories in anticipation of me possibly having an adventure and bringing back more people.

Dec 5

Nathan left today, piloting the Paha Sapa with a hundred men aboard. With the milder than usual winter, the river hadn’t frozen, so they could still float log rafts downriver to Libertyville. He would take the men upriver and drop them off where the logging lodges were. They took two cast iron stoves and eight pot-bellied stoves to help heat the lodges through the cold winter months, as well as to cook on. While it would take multiple loads, the wagons they already had at the lodges would carry the stoves, coal, and a six-month supply of food. When Nathan returned three weeks later, he led thirty log rafts, only ten of which were filled with coal to top off our coal supply.

Four hours after Nathan left with the lumberjacks, the boat with the supplies I bought in Louisville arrived. There was a mad scramble as men, women, and wagons rushed to the Saratoga Bend docks to unload the boat. Once again, I was able to witness the excitement of the people as they saw the cargo coming off the boat. It was like a giant Christmas present to them; a surprise being unwrapped slowly as it was unloaded into the wagons.

Several women were directing the filled wagons to various warehouses depending on the cargo. The new mules brought almost as loud of an excited response as the water closets. The cribs brought the most excited response.

Even though the lumberjacks could work, the freezing weather prevented the building of rock and mortar walls for the new lumber mills, although wagons still went out every day to gather more rock, sand, and gravel, stockpiling it around town where it would be needed.

The boat was completely unloaded in an hour and a half, although some of the cargo was still stacked on the dock, awaiting transportation to where we would temporarily store it.

Dec 16

Emma was impressed that I remembered our wedding anniversary. I gave her a beautiful dress I bought in Louisville.

For three weeks, I stayed home, aside from periodic extended hunting trips with several of the Sioux hunters. Even though I was frequently gone for one to three days during those three weeks, I noticed a growing unease in the town. When I asked Dad, he explained that everyone was waiting to see what I was going to do next. They didn’t always expect something spectacular to happen but knew nothing could happen if I wasn’t traveling or exploring.

Dec 25

We awoke to a light blanket of snow on the ground, the third of the season. The panorama outside the house looked so peaceful, yet I felt restless--as if I needed to be doing something. It wasn’t a feeling that I’d forgotten to do something, or that there was some specific task still unfinished. I just felt that I should be doing something to help. Hell, I can’t even explain it to myself.

For Christmas, I gave each of the women in my life a new dress like the one I gave Emma for our anniversary. I knew they loved the new dresses and their joy made me happy.

I realized one thing we were missing when my wives reminded me that we needed to get ready for church. We didn’t have a church. Then, I learned that we did have a church, just no building. Some of our people went to the churches in Omaha, but many refused because one of the pastors refused to let the Negroes attend the same service as whites. Because of his stance, none of our people attended his church, leaving him with the smallest congregation in Omaha. Those who would have attended his church now met each Sunday in one of our empty warehouses.

I also realized that I hadn’t attended church very often in my life. We lived too far from town to reach it when we lived in Virginia. Instead, each member of our family would read two pages of the bible aloud to the rest of the family every Sunday. If one of us kids had a question about what we read, Mom and Dad would explain it as best they could.

While I was in the mood for realizing things, I realized that the only clothing I had was buckskins. The good pants I wore for Penny’s wedding were bordering on being too short even then and were definitely too short now. Also, the shirt was now much too narrow in the shoulders and the sleeves too short.

Laughing at my vexation, my wives gave me their Christmas gift--pants, a shirt, shoes, and new suspenders. I was surprised at how well they fit until the girls explained that I was the same size as my father, except my shoulders were a little broader. They had used my newest pair of moccasins to determine my shoe size.

Besides appreciating their thoughtfulness, they made me realize it was yet another thing I’d missed that someone else took care of.

After church, all the families from Virginia got together for supper, reminiscing about Virginia, the trip, and our first year here. Right after supper, I found Mima and gave her the porcelain doll I bought for her Christmas present. The happy tears she shed kept me smiling for several days, as did her emotional hug and kiss.

That evening, relaxing and laughing with my wives, I had a feeling that I needed to look for more land to buy with the Federal Bank Drafts we still had.

I was surprised when my brothers came by and spoke with me quietly. Acting as spokesman for both, Jake thanked me. He admitted that the two of them had been worthless when we left Virginia, but my example and constant haranguing from their wives made them realize the low opinion everyone had of them. Since getting here, they had worked hard to become productive men and better husbands.

Later, I spoke privately with Dad, talking about the myriad of things I constantly overlooked. “Jim, no man knows about everything. Mr. Franklin is a wonder when it comes to money and banking, but didn’t know the first thing about plowing, growing crops, or building anything. We almost had to show him how to hold a hammer.

“I knew next to nothing about plumbing, and nothing about mining. None of us from Virginia, with the possible exception of Dawn, would have found Madison, the slavers, or even the burned wagons. You got us here safely and you found people who are expert at doing the various things we need to build our community.

“Nobody expects you to manage everything, or to know everything. You’re the heart of Libertyville, not necessarily the muscle or brain, although you’ve definitely proven that you’re both strong and smart. You just keep thinking about the big picture, and let everyone else worry about the details,” he encouraged. I did feel better afterwards.

Dec 26

I met with the Sioux chiefs and asked if there was more land nearby they wanted me to buy. They motioned to everything west of the Missouri River, and then laughed at the chagrined look on my face. Instead, they suggested that I explore the area with some of their warriors; we could hunt and explore at the same time.

Dec 27

Forty warriors rode out with me just after dawn. Speaking of Dawn, she was climbing the walls at home, and I talked the chiefs into allowing her to go with us. Normally, a woman wouldn’t go on the hunt, except to cook or skin game, but she had been my mentor and earned their respect because of it.

Dawn grinned happily when I met her at the stables. When we left town, we almost looked like a cavalry column, riding two abreast. Each rider trailed two pack mules. One mule carried food and supplies while the other was to carry any game we found. It was cold enough that the extra game could be taken back to town and might even be frozen by the time we got it there. Each warrior carried their weapons proudly, an S&W revolver in a cross-draw holster, a repeating rifle, and an Enfield rifle for longer shots or bigger game.

We traveled north to see the land beyond the border of Douglas county. Supposedly, there were a few towns between the coal mine and us. Those towns frequently sent wagons to the coal mine to buy coal for the entire town, appreciating the road we’d improved from Libertyville to the mine.

I grinned when we rode through a low-lying area where two streams converged. I couldn’t hear them, but could see the wallow left by wild pigs. Even though feral pigs were new to this part of the country, especially west of the Missouri River, the Indians recognized the wallow, too.

As I had done for our infamous pig hunt in Illinois, one of the stories from our trip that is told and retold, Dawn, and I joined several of the warriors as we waited quietly in the leafless cottonwood trees along the course of the stream. I had one of the men ride through the area and dump a pouch of corn in an open area before circling around to rejoin the remainder of our group who pulled back a quarter mile and held our horses for us.

Not even fifteen minutes later, the pigs came out for the corn. I was surprised at how many there were, seven adult pigs and more than twenty young pigs that each weighed one hundred-fifty pounds or more. Nearly an hour later, they were being dragged away to a more suitable spot to load them onto mules or travois. The smaller ones were each loaded onto a mule. The adult pigs had to be loaded onto travois. Just like that, the size of our hunting party was cut in half as we sent all but one of the smaller pigs back to town. That one would be dinner for those of us that remained.

Not even two miles beyond the pig wallow, we found where the pigs had come from. The warriors showed me the burned ruins of what had once been a huge fort. They explained how white soldiers from the east had used the fort for many years before leaving.

Even as it appeared now, the fort was impressive; straight wood walls two hundred yards long that had once enclosed the massive fort. I was glad it was still winter as we found several rattlesnakes hiding amidst the ruins. Barracks had once stood on the inside of all four walls. Crumbling fireplaces and chimneys rose from the charred ruins like eerie fingers pointing skyward. Occasionally, small sections of wall had escaped the flames that consumed most of the wooden fort, and showed small, telltale patches of whitewash. In the center of the fort was a large stone building with walls two feet thick. I could only assume it had been the magazine.

A hundred yards west of the stockade were the charred remains of what had been the beginning of a small town. A single street ran north and south, bisecting the five short streets running east and west. The areas between the streets each held the ruins of four houses.

To the southeast, at the base of the bluff they built the fort on, and overlooking the Missouri River, were the ruins of a blacksmith’s shop, two mills, and the exciting finds, a kiln for burning lime, and a limestone quarry. We even found what looked like a brickyard. I only recognized the brickyard because of my brief visit to the one in Independence. This discovery meant that we could quarry limestone blocks and make our own cement, as well as clay bricks.

Standing atop the bluff where the fort was situated, I could easily see where, until recently, the river ran about three hundred yards due east of the bluffs. I could also see other places where the river’s course had changed over the years. Today, the closest access to the river was a mile and a half to the northeast.

Before we left, I took a sample of the limestone from the quarry and two loose bricks from the ruins of the fort. I wanted our masons to see these and find out what they thought about the quality of the limestone, as well as the bricks. I only knew enough about limestone to know that some types weren’t suitable for building.

Having spent the rest of the afternoon exploring, we made camp for the night next to one of the old walls, so it sheltered us from the wind and enjoyed cooked pig for dinner.

Dec 28

The residents of the town of Desoto panicked when they saw twenty Sioux warriors riding towards town. I rode into town alone to calm them and was amazed to find several hundred people in the town, as well as more than a dozen businesses. They were much more congenial when they learned that I owned the coal mine where they bought their coal. When I explained that I was out scouting the area, they pointed in general directions and told me what they knew about--mostly the towns of Fremont, Fontanelle, and Tekamah.

They reiterated the same stories of suffering and death from the cold temperatures and severe snowstorms last winter that I’d heard from people in Omaha and Saratoga Bend, as well as from the Sioux. The Sioux had assured me that the weather this winter was much warmer than last winter and should continue. Still, I was glad that we had stockpiled such an excess of food and coal.

Dec 29

Well before dark, we reached the coal mine. Their progress was remarkable. Two more barracks had been finished for the miners as had the houses for the families due to arrive in the spring to begin growing fresh produce for the miners. Those families would maintain a herd of cattle to provide beef for the miners, and a small dairy herd to provide milk and butter. They would also raise pigs, and chickens for meat and eggs. Even the barns were done, and the fencing for pens and corrals for the livestock was complete.

Twenty coal bins now lined the top of the bluff, with five more under construction. Wagons loaded with coal from the mine rolled on wooden rails in the middle of a gravel road to partially negate the effect of ice, snow, and mud for the mules pulling the wagons. When the mine became deep enough, we would need a steam engine and cable to pull the loaded wagons out of the mine.

The top of the bluff around the bins was covered with concrete so the wagons could maneuver enough to back up to the bins. Heavy scaffolding above each bin held chains that attached to the front of the bed of each filled wagon. Winches raised the front of the wagon, so the coal slid into the bin, letting gravity do the work. The wood rails circled back to the mine so more than one wagon could use the rails at the same time.

Forty-five wagons carried the coal, many already filled and waiting for an empty bin. My tour inside the mine was amazing, looking at how much coal had already been removed. There were twenty “rooms” currently being mined. Each room was cut out of the thick coal seam to allow two or more wagons inside and plenty of men to mine the coal. I couldn’t believe how quickly our new mine had become so large.

Dec 30

I thanked everyone for their work, checking to see if there was anything I could do to make their job easier. “Women,” was the universal answer. I knew that we planned to build more housing this year, allowing the miners to have a wife and family here with them. We would convert some of the barracks to apartments. Next year, we would lay out a small town and then start building homes or apartments.

By mid-morning, we reached Tekamah, a farming town a few miles west of the mine. After the panic in Desoto, I rode in alone to make sure the townspeople knew the Sioux warriors were with me and that we were just out looking over the area around Omaha. One person commented that they were seeing more Indians than before, but there hadn’t been a single problem with them for a year.

From Tekamah, we headed southeast towards Fontanelle. In the afternoon, the warriors were excited about finding a small herd of buffalo grazing in a wooded ravine. We killed the eight young bulls, leaving the females and the dominant bull. Before dark, the buffalo had been skinned, dressed, and were ready to transport tomorrow. They used branches to prop open the chest cavity, so the meat could cool or freeze tonight. We built travois using either the buffalo skins or saplings tied across the drag poles. The pelts of four wolves were added overnight when they came to investigate the smell of blood.

Dec 31

This morning, ten warriors led the fourteen mules loaded with nearly frozen buffalo meat and headed for Libertyville. We kept the final buffalo with us to eat on our trip. As cold as it was, it should keep until we finished it or finished our trip.

We were loosely following the Elkhorn River in a southerly direction when one of the warriors pointed excitedly at a big stand of bare cottonwood trees near the river. I looked, and looked again, but didn’t see any game among the trees. Laughing at me, the warrior signed nest and eagle. Then I saw the bulky nest in the trees. It looked similar to the bird’s nests I was used to seeing, but was more than ten feet across, and made from sticks bigger around than my thumb.

When we got to the tree, he motioned for me to climb up. Looking around, and not seeing any eagles, I climbed, still wondering if he was pulling my leg. The inside of the nest had a soft, albeit wet, covering of dry grass and downy feathers. What caught my eye were three tail feathers lying among the downy feathers. After one last look around, I grabbed the tail feathers and climbed down.

The warrior nodded approvingly at the three feathers, then told me to cut off some buffalo meat for the eagles. He kept motioning for me to cut off more until I had a chunk weighing almost ten pounds. I climbed back into the tree and hauled the meat up with a length of rope, leaving the meat in the nest for the eagle. The warrior explained that I needed to leave the meat to thank the eagle for the feathers.

We reached Fontanelle in the late afternoon, and I again rode into town alone. It was a good thing, since the people in town had trouble previously with the Pawnee and were skittish about any Indians. Fontanelle was yet another farming community. Considering that Fontanelle and the other towns we visited had two or more years’ head start on us, I wasn’t impressed, but didn’t tell them. I did tell them that we should be safe from Indian attacks with five villages from two different tribes living with us.

Shortly after we left Fontanelle headed southwest, the first group of warriors, the ones who took the pigs back to town, found us. Knowing where we were headed, they got ahead of us before backtracking to find us. We stopped and camped for the night. I must admit, the small, buffalo skin tipis they used were a hell of a lot warmer than our wagons, although I usually had one or more women in the wagon with me to share body heat. It was strange sharing a tipi all night with Dawn, but she didn’t seem concerned about it. Regardless of how carefully I positioned myself each night, I awoke each morning with Dawn spooned against my back and her arm draped over me. I guess it was better than the other way around, since I always ended up cupping the breast of whichever woman I spooned against.

Jan 1, 1858

We reached Fremont mid-morning, finding yet another small farming town. This one was barely older than Libertyville. I was surprised that one of the men in town knew who I was, although he’d never met me. “I got back a month ago aboard a steamboat. I couldn’t believe how big Libertyville is,” he commented. “Everyone was saying it was all because of your luck. They call you Lucky Jim,” he continued.

He introduced me to several nearby men before we continued on our way. We followed the rutted trail west that had been used by untold thousands of emigrants on their way to Oregon and California, and even to Pike’s Peak.

This time, I saw the eagle’s nest before anyone else said something. After making sure the nest was currently empty, I climbed up to check it, finding six tail feathers. I already had a chunk of meat attached to a rope, ready to pull up, and left it in the nest.

We would have covered more ground today, but found two more eagle nests to check out, finding five more tail feathers. A third nest had an eagle guarding it, but I left some meat nearby anyway.

Jan 2 - 8

It was too bad it wasn’t spring. With the ground covered by a light blanket of snow, it was difficult to assess what we were riding across. Still, the men in Fremont had said that the soil in the entire extended Platte River Valley, as well as everything for as far as they had ridden, was as fertile as any soil on earth. We rode west for a week before reaching a point on the road directly across the river from Fort Kearney.

Once again, I went alone, fording the frigid river and entering the fort. Let’s just say that the troops weren’t happy about the Indians being armed with rifles and gave me an earful. Thanking them for their opinion, I left them to their grumbling. I did learn one interesting thing from them. They had three cannons they called three-inch ordnance rifles. The shells were only three inches across, but the cannons were extremely accurate, with an accurate range of a mile; that was slightly farther than other cannons, even though they were muzzle loaders.

Jan 9 - 26

Six more days of travel brought us to where the Platte River split into the North Platte and South Platte. The trail west continued through the Nebraska Territory at that point, but I had seen as much of the Platte River valley as I cared to see for now.