The Diary of Abbie Bright, 1870-71

Abbie Bright was born in Pennsylvania in 1848, in the populated east, into a well-to-do, comfortable home.  At age 15 she got her certificate, and became a teacher.  By the time she was 22, she as bored, and itching to see the world. 

In those days, it was unacceptable for a single young woman to travel on her own, so she went to stay, first with her brother Hiram in Williamsport, Indiana, then with her youngest brother, Philip, who had filed a homesteader claim on Osage land in Clearwater, Kansas.  On Philip’s advice, she, too, filed a claim.  Both brothers had fought in the Civil War, but Philip had been badly wounded. 

How useful is Abbie Bright as a source?

Abbie is a first-hand witness, moreover, she is viewing these things objectively.  Her descriptions of the journeys, houses and area are incredibly helpful to building up a mental image.  Most of all, she was not a tourist; for a year, she ‘lived the life’ so we are hearing about experiences, not just sight-seeing.  It is interesting to see the massive difference between life in semi-populated Indiana, and life in frontier Kansas. 

But you also have to realise that Abbie is not representative of the ‘normal’ Homesteader woman (if there was such a thing).  She came from a wealthy family, who could ‘sub’ her $300 halfway through her stay – enough money to prove a claim just because "the claims will become valuable in time" (8 July 1871).  She was educated, and writing articles for local newspapers, investigative-journalist-style, as she went.  Most of all, she knew she was not staying there – this was a ‘gap year’ for her (with a month back at home in the middle), and that will have coloured how she ‘saw’ and dealt with everything that Kansas threw at her … and she was honest enough to admit it: "I like it, but if someone said I must stay here always, then I fear I would not” (12 June 1871).  When you read the diary, you are getting the experientially informed view of an outsider (which of course has its advantages, too). 

Going Deeper

This is an abridged version of the diary:

You can see a facsimile of the original hand-written diary

or a transcript of the full diary here: Part I and Part II

  What light does the Diary of Abbie Bright throw on the experience of women as homesteaders? - detailed analysis

1.  SEVEN MONTHS IN INDIANA, SEPT 1870-MARCH 1871

Sept. 2nd 1870

[First, Abbie went to stay with her brother Hiram in Indiana]

After dinner the horses were hitched to the big wagon again, and off we started for Red Oak Shelter eight miles farther.  We sat on a spring seat, which was untop of the wagon-box.  My feet did not touch the floor, and when the horses went faster than a walk, I had to hold fast to the seat, to keep from bouncing off.  It would have been less tiresome to have sat on my trunk, and rested my feet on the floor. 

So much for my first ride in a "Husher [Hoosier?] buggy". 

Sept. 7

The weather is delightful – the children interesting, and the days too short.  Last Sunday we went twelve miles to Crows Grove church.  There was to have been a wedding – but on the way to church, the bride got timid, so they stopped at the Squires and were married, then went on to church.  It was known over the country, that the wedding was to be Sunday, so there was a big crowd there, and the disapointment at not seeing the marriage was great.  However we saw the bride, and she looked very happy and sweet.  She wore a silver gray silk, with a velvet hat to match. 

Coming home Katura [Rhoda] told us when they came west fifteen years ago, the woman nearly all wore sunbonnets.  Her wedding bonnet was very pretty, and much admired.  A neighbor girl was going to be married and wanted her bonnet. 

After some dickering, they made a trade – the girl got the bonnet, and Katura [Rhoda] got a pig. 

"That Pig" said she – "was the source of the hundreds of pigs we have raised since – "

As we drove along some prairie chickens flew up from the road side.  They were the first I had seen.  When I asked about them, Katura [Rhoda] said, "there are only a few now, years back there were plenty, and they were not so wild.  When there was snow, they would find shelter and food in corn shocks. 

We rode in a spring waggon, which was called in that locality, a buggy, and were just beeing bought by the more prosperous farmer.  The farm houses were far apart, no trees – except what were planted around the buildings.  The farms were generally large.  One field we passed, was a quarter section, 160 acres, and only used for pasture.  It was an interesting drive, but would take too long to write about all I saw and heard. 

Brother's home is at the edge of timber.  There is timber west and north of the house, great oaks, maples, hickery etc.  The house faces the East.  The barn, sheds and corn cribs are west of the house.  There are nine horses and a number of coalts, nearly 200 head of cattle over 200 hogs, and 300 sheep, not counting the lambs. 

[Sept.] 22st

We attended the fair at Pine Village the other day, and I met many nice people.  The exhibits were not extensive.  People went mostly to meet acquaintances, and visit with their neighbors.  We took dinner at a dining hall.  The desert was vinegar pie.  I thought it strange when fruit is so plenty and pumpkins too.  I think it was made of sugar, spice, and everything that is good and nice. 

Oct. 14

Brother has so much hired help – it keeps Katura [his wife, Rhoda] busy cooking: besides the fruit and garden to look after.  The older children are good help. 

We got the mail to day.  Letters from home, all well. 

Oct. 21

[She got a job as a teacher in a school 8 miles away]

I came down Sunday.  School began Monday. 

The school house stands at a crossroads on the prairie. 

No fence around it.  Back of it grows slough grass and big weeds, no trees on the lot, and no building of any kind besides the school house.  A load of coal dumped by the door.  "Simply this and nothing more". 

The first fire I kindled with weeds and dried grass.  The next morning I picked up pine cones in Mrs Bee's [Butler's] yard.  Going home last eve – I saw there was bark on some of the fence posts I passed, so this morning I pulled off enough, to kindle fire this morning, and next Monday.  I must see about getting some one to have some kindling. 

This is my first experience with soft coal, it kindles easily, but how it does smudge. 

Have eleven scholars, will have more when the corn is out of the way. 

The scholars work well, so I have no trouble to keep order, and how they do like to sing.  Motion songs delight them.  I can teach them tunes.  I wish I was a good singer. 

Dec. 21

We went to the party last night.  J[ames Hunter] came around this way for us.  There were seven in the sled, and we had a merry time.  More boys there, as usualy at their merry makings, than girls – and I danced until my ankels hurt.  I do not like to refuse any one. 

Some lack polish, but they are mostly well-meaning, up right boys.  There are to be several other parties soon, but I shant go.  I feel too stupid next day.  It is very cold – only six scholars to day. 

Dec. 28

Christmas is past.  I spent it at my brothers, with the children – and a plenty of apples, nuts, pop corn, homemade candy and cider.  I had a pleasant time. 

It was so cold Mrs Bee [Butler] did not want me to come up Fri., but I was determined to go. 

She gave me a pair of drawers to wear, that were made out of a blanket, and they kept me warm, except my feet, which were frost bitten a little.  If women rode crosswise like men, how much warmer and better it would be. 

Jan. 6

Well we were at O[sborn's] – about fifteen minutes, when Squire [Strump] entered the room, followed by a lady and gentleman. 

When in the center of the room, he turned around and married them.  We were surprised, but just so it was.  After congratulations, we went to supper, and an excellent supper it was, finishing with nuts confectionary etc.  After wards we danced, I have never enjoyed a dance more. 

Jan. 20

Had a new experience to day, and must jot it down while it is fresh in my mind.  We often see a mouse run around the room.  Last Monday there were two frozen on the stove hearth.  This a.m.  I was sitting by Ruth helping her with the arithmetic lesson, when I felt something move between my dress and skirt.  I was wise enough not to make a fuss, for I guessed what it was. 

I got up quietly – went out the door, shooked my skirts vigorously – and down dropt a mouse. 

Another thing to be thankful for – that I am not afraid of mice. 

[Jan. 24]

Saturday night Katura [Rhoda], Nelson [a hired hand] and I went to hear a revivalist, who was preaching in a schoolhouse north of us.  It was so dark we got out of the road.  Nelson road against a stump, Katura's [Rhoda's] saddle turned, but we got there a little late.  Nelson tightened the girths before we started back.  I rode Coly, wish I could take her East with me.  Started back to school Sunday p.m.  My foot got cold, and I took it out of the stirup. 

When about a mile from Mrs Bee's [Butler], a rabbit jumped up, and frightened my horse.  She gave a jump and landed me in the road.  It was good I had my foot out of the stirup, or I might not now be writing about it. 

Jan. 27

My school is larger than it was, have 19 pupils, and that just fills the room.  A school south of here closed, and several from there, now come here. 

Alas my 'Good order" is not so good.  I am glad that in two weeks, my four months are up. 

The other day I met a so called phrenologist, He was a great talker.  Bess [Belle] had told me about him, and that should I meet him, I was not to take him seriously, as he was daffy on the subject.  He soon introduced the subject, and … went on to tell me, that my mental faculties were no better developed than those of the majority of people. 

Last night we went to a Spiritualist meeting at Fees Hall. 

To me it appeared to be all slight of hand, but many around here believe in it. 

Feb. 25

I expect this will smell of calomel, oil, etc.  The children have been quite sick with lung fever, are a little better but very restless.  They both had fly blisters on their chests; now we put on bread and milk poultices, which must be changed often.  It is after midnight.  Katura [Rhoda] has laid down, brother and I will be up the rest of the night. 

I sewed until I got sleepy – now I am trying to write. 

It is almost a week since we had the mail. 

March 3

The children were much improved, and brother thought it safe to leave them, and bring me over here to see the Ill[inois] cousins. 

We came over that twenty miles of open prairie I saw last Sept. when we went out to look at the cattle.  Now the ponds are full of water, and look like lakes.  One place we crossed a little stream, and the horses nearly mired.  Indeed one laid down and there was danger of drownding.  Brother talked to them and encouraged them.  After floundering around they found firmer foot hold, and pulled the spring waggon buggy out, I feared the buggy would pull to pieces, and dump us in the water, but "all is well that ends well". 

2.  THE JOURNEY TO CLEARWATER

Abbie's Journey West: 1,330 miles

April 24

I wrote to Philip at once, that I would leave here the 25th.  That will give the letter a weeks start of me.  These have been busy days.  Now my trunk is packed.  It would not hold all – so a pillow with an army blanket was roaped on top.  I will carry my big brown basket, with lunch and toilet belongings etc.  and two shawles, beside my wrap.  All ready to leave early in the morning. 

May 1st 1871 

The 25th brother and Katura [Rhoda] took me to W[illiamsport] and left for Kans.  Crossed the Mississippi at night, reached Kansas City next morning, where I had to change cars, and have my trunk rechecked. 

The pillow and blanket that was roaped on top the trunk, were loose, and no one had time to roap it again, so I had to take them in the car with me.  I wrapped them in the single shawl as tight as I could, and it looked just like a baby bundle.  After we left Topeka I inquired of the conductor about stage connections at Emporia – He said the R.R.  was now finished to Cottonwood.  I should get out there, and get a ticket to Cottonwood.  He would take my check and recheck my trunk.  "Dont hurry I will wait for you".  he added.  There at Emporia I saw the first Indian. 

Soon after leaving E.  the stage agent came to book those who left by stage next morning. 

I asked if it was necessary to do so before reaching Cottonwood, and was told that to be sure of a seat it was.  So I paid $10.  for a passage to Wichita, 80 miles from E.  I asked some questions about the country, and we had a very interesting conversation, and a laugh about my pillow and blanket bundle. 

He said the winds were so strong, that by the end of a month, I would be tanned the color of a buff envelop. 

The hotel at C[ottonwood Falls] is nearly a mile from the depot, and the hardest looking place I ever stopped at, with so many idle men lounging around.  I went at once to my room, and found I was to share it with a young girl – who had come down on an earlier train.  We soon became acquainted. 

The stage was to leave at 5:30.  We left the lamp burn all night, as a help not to over sleep.  We were up in time for breakfast, which was the first meal I had bought since leaving Indiana.  My lunch held out well.  There were two stages – four horses to each.  Both were packed tight.  The exceedingly silly bride, who came down on the train I did, and my roommate and I, sat in the back seat.  What with my basket and bundle I was somewhat crowded.  Some one shouted "All ready" and away we went.  They changed horses every ten or twelve miles, and at times drove like fury.  Sometimes your head would bang against the top; then those riding out side, would call, "How's that for high".  A very common expression out here.  When we came to rough places – the driver usually called out "Make yourselves firm".  Knowing what to expect we grabed hold of the side of stage or the seat, and avoided getting badly thumped. 

The bridal party left at the second or third change of horses.  Some one said he was running a store near there. 

We got out once, and walked, until the coach came up. 

It was not far, for they changed horses in a marvalous short time.  There were very few improvements to be seen.  One place we saw a buffalo calf, tied with a roap to a stake.  At El Dorado some of the passengers left to go over another stage rout.  The girl got out too.  She had told me that she was going to work in a hotel there. 

I was sorry to part with her.  From E[l Dorado] to Augusta there was but one stage, with six horses and fifteen or eighteen passengers.  I was the only woman, and kept quiet, and tried to be dignified, weather it was a success or not I do not know; but I do know that I was always treated with courtsey. 

When we crossed White river the water ran throu the coach.  I raised my feet in time, but my skirts got wet.  The late rains had raised the water in the river, which is not wide – but deep. 

The passengers kept up a brisk conversation.  A man from Wisconsin would lean on his umbrella, and grumble about the country, The weather etc. 

It was a dreary cloudy day for late April. 

After riding a long time with nothing but prairie to see – we passed a sod hut.  Then they called his attention to "the great and magnificent improvements".  He was provoked and "talked back," when one, told him they were only obeying the bible command which said "When a stranger comes along, take him in". 

Augusta was the Land Office, and all but six of the passengers stopped.  We changed coches to a smaller one, with four horses.  From A[gusta] to Wichita we changed horses once.  All but the Wisconsin man and I, got out and walked on.  The walking was good.  We had come all the way of the Santa Fe Trail tramped flat by thousands of Texas cattle driven over it last year. 

The new teams were fine grays – and rather wild. 

A little way from the stable was a draw or water course some what stony – or at least very rough. 

The driver called "Make your selves firm".  We went over the draw, and part way up the slope, on a run – then something happened.  The driver yelled to the horses and finaly we stopped.  The he yelled – "if there is a man in there, get out quick, and hold a horse.  If I get down I will loose controll of all".  Wisconsin was so long getting out, I felt like pushing him, and by the time he did, the man from the stable was there to help.  He had started when he heard the driver yell to the horses. 

They fixed the harnes, and we started, only to have the same horse begin to kick something awful. 

"Shall I get out," I asked.  "Stay in with your baby".  Again the pillow, blanket and shawl were taken for a baby.  I got out, and the man who had walked on, came back, thinking they had gotten on the wrong road. 

This time they had to go back to the stable for new harness.  The driver explained that the horse that made the trouble, was a new one, on the team, and not broken in yet.  We were detained about an hour, and it was nearly dark now.  When ready to start, the driver said, "The lady and two or three men get in, and when the men let go the horses, I will drive like fury, slack up later, but not stop, and the rest can get in".  He certainly drove like Jehu, and the men got in with considerably difficulty.  The last ten miles, we almost flew.  We certainly had a good driver, one who understood horses. 

When we could see the lights of W[ichita], I began wondering where I would stop.  The men began to talk about hotels, and one said, "there are two, one about as good as the other". 

When we stoped at the first, the clerk came and opened the door and asked, "Any passengers for here?" When no one moved to get out, I said I would, and was the only one to stop there. 

In all that ride of 80 miles from 5-30 a.m.  to 10 p.m.  I was treated with the greatest respect.  It was a great disappointment not to see or hear something of my brother.  The clerk suggested that he might not have my letter – as he lived 20 miles out along the Ninnescah.  I was tired and went to my room. 

It was a new hotel – the room was clean, but very simply furnished.  The partitions were boards, and one could hear the talk in the other rooms. 

I was very tired, for dinner I ate some lunch Rhoda gave me, not wanting to leave the coach when the men did, and before going to bed, I ate a little more.  Before going to bed I fastened the door securely, and looked around the room, the partitions were all pai[nted?] boards, and one could hear what was said in the adjoining rooms.  Board ceiling as well as partitions.  I put out the lamp and put the curtain up – when I noticed acrost the street a room with no shades or else not pulled down – and a number of men walking around in their shirts. 

I slept well, felt rested next morning, and after breakfast the landlord went to the P.O.  and there was the letter I had written Philip that I was coming.  He then inquired if there were any teams going to the Ninnescah river, but found none.  So I had to hire a team to take me out.  They charged me $7 – for the open spring waggon, drawn by a pair of mules.  The driver was a boy of sixteen. 

We forded the Arkansas.  It was broad and sandy. 

The water went over the hubs – but not into the waggon. 

There were a few houses not far from the river, then we saw no sign of life, except a prairie dog town, until we reached [the Ninnescah.] In all that distance there is no timber except a very little along the Cowskin creek.  The creek has very steep banks, and I was glad when we had crossed it.  A fringe of trees came into view, and we were nearing the river.  The driver said we will stop at McLanes [McLean's] Ranch, and inquire for your brother.  The ranch was a one room log building, where they sold provision and whiskey. 

We drove to the door and I asked for Philip.  "Your brothers claim is acrost the river – and two miles up".  "My Brother's" I said, "Yes you are his sister, you look just like him, but you cant cross the river today, See – " and he waved his hand toward a number of freight waggons, "they have been waiting two days for the water to go down".  Another disappointment. 

What will I do – where spend the night?  I asked, and he said "go over to the house and stay with my wife". 

The driver was going back as soon as he had fed the team, so I wrote a short letter home, and gave it to him to mail, as W[ichita] is the nearest P.O. 

I then went over to the house, which was a dug out, and acrost a little draw.  It was built in the bank.  Mrs McLain was very cordial not having seen a woman for some weeks. 

She had rheumatism, and was not very strong.  Her daughter of twelve – and a negro girl of fourteen did the work.  Some of the freighters took their meals there, while waiting for the water to go down. 

I slept a while in p.m., but not long, for Mrs Mc[Lean] waikened me.  She said, "You have slept long enough, I am lonesome for some one to talk to".  We took a little walk up the river, but she was not strong enough to go far. 

There were sheets stretched acrost the room, dividing her bedroom, from the kitchen, where I slept on the floor with the girls.  It was not a sound sleep, and when he came in at a late hour, I heard her say "I am so glad you have come.  I was afraid you never would".  He told her there was no danger, but I heard that there often were rough times at the ranch when so many men got to gether.  I learned later that there was gambling and shooting –  rough times generally – at the ranch house.  When morning came, I hurried to the river to see if it could be crossed.  The first man I met, a man with a revolver and boeknife [bowie knife] straped to his belt, said they would try in a couple of hours.  He looked savage – but was very polite.  After the men had breakfast, Mrs McLain [McLean] the girls and I ate; then she gave me a sunbonnet and we went to where they were doubling teams, and taking one waggon acrost at a time.  It was hard going.  I thought one little team would drownd, but they made the other side – and were soon on the old Texas trail.  The one team – the big team was taken back, and hitched as leaders to another waggon, and that crossed safely.  It was quite exciting to watch them.  Mrs Mc[Lean] knew how anxious I was to get to my brother, and told one of the men.  "All right she can get up on my waggon," he said.  I was helped away up on top of perishable goods which were piled high and roaped on.  Those in the waggon box got partly wet. 

What a trip it was – past a few cottonwood trees, then down into the water, which had a swift current. 

By the time I began to get dizzy – the leaders struck sand, and we were soon on the old trail, where horsemen and teams were waiting to cross north, but waited for the freighters to come over first. 

When the driver came to help me down, he asked "where are you going"?  "To my brothers, two miles up the river," I told him.  "Have you ever been there" he asked.  "No, but I can easily walk that far," I answered.  "You know nothing about it; stay where you are until we get up to Murrie's [Murray's] Ranch –  he will help you".  There I stayed for he drove on and when we reached a log house – he called to a man at the door –  "Murry [Murray] this lady wants to go two miles up the river".  Then he helped me down, I thanked him, and he drove on. 

I told Mr Murry [Murray] who I was –  He said I could not walk, he would get me a horse…

So I started, on what I hoped to be the last leg of my journey, with the six or eight loose horses and ponies, trotting along.  Sometimes ahead and sometimes behind.  I was fearful they might get kicking or do something to excite my pony and make me trouble.  Hower they were all pieceable – and seemed to enjoy the going. 

After rounding the draw, I could see the North [West] house way down toward the river.  There was a garden in front of the house, and not wanting the horses to spoil it, I stopped some distance back and called to the woman at the door to come and get a letter.  When she came –  I asked where I could find my brother.  "He is here" she said and called him.  At last, at last, I was so glad I believed I cried a bit. 

3.  SEVEN MONTHS IN KANSAS, MAY-NOVEMBER 1871

Clearwater in 1873

May 1

It was arranged that for the present I should stay with Mrs N [West].  Mrs N [West] was a talker, and I soon had the lay of the land.  A Scotch family by the name of Rose [Ross] lived acrost, and up the river.  When a party of young men came here last fall to locate, they stopped with or near the Roses [Rosses], and helped build some houses – North's [West's] and Philip's and a dug out near North's [West's] where some of them stay. 

Mr N [West] was clerking in Whichita, Mr Smith freighting.  Some doing carpentering work etc.  All earning money to pay for their claims.  The men in the vicinity had gone on a buffalo hunt. 

Before they left, they helped Mr West build his house, about 14 by 12.  There are big cotten wood trees along the river, and they build with them.  There was but one room –  a bed, a stove, a bench, two stools, table, trunks, and a few cooking utensils.  Store boxes were used for cubbords.  In the dug out, was a barrel of provision, etc.  Mrs W[est] did not know how to bake yeast bread, but could bake good salt risin bread.  Mostly, however, she made biscuits.  On the bench she had a sack of flour, & a bucket for water and under it, a two qt.  tin bucket into which she put pieces of bread or biscuit that were left, and covered them with water.  In time it would sour.  I saw it ferment and run over some times – Well when she made biscuits, she poured that sour water off, and used it with soda to make biscuits.  She was a genteel woman from Ohio, beautifully fitted for a pioneer wife.  She was a little older than I, but not strong, and had doctored a good bit.  She told me "a Dr.  told her she was made of finer clay than most people".  She longed for the time they could pay for their claim, and move to town. 

Philip was going along when he accidentally cut his leg.  He was fishing, and after cuting bate for the hook, stuck his hunting knife into his boot, then stooping suddenly had cut his leg. 

May 2nd

This is a new settlement.  A year ago I understood there were no white woman within 15 or 20 miles.  Now there are several families scattered along the River.  Last winter the Osage Indians camped along the river.  Their tepees are still standing, I have been told. 

[May] 8th

Mrs N [West] and I walked to the river, I wanted to see the Indian tepees, When nearly there, a skunk blocked our way and we fled in haste.  As soon as Philip gets to Wichita and lays in a suply of provision, we will move to his cabin.  This is the Osage Preemption Land, or The Osage Trust Lands, You select a claim of 160 acres, then you "file on it".  After living on it six months, and doing a certain amount of improvements, you pay $1.25 an acre, and then it is yours. 

Philip has been on his claim that long, has broke some land, and planted corn.  He and some men have selected my claim, and when he goes to W[ichita] he will "file on it".  Then no one can file on the same land. 

He selected a suitable place, and plowed it for a garden, not having a harrow, he hitched the oxen to big brush and dragged it back and forth until it was well raked.  The garden is about a mile from the Norths [West's], I have no hoe yet, but with the help of a stick, I have managed to plant a number of seeds.  Katura [Rhoda] gave me garden seeds.  I hope they will grow. 

One day when going to the garden, I saw three antelopes and a coyote.  There are three deer around, the men see them and I see their tracks in my garden. 

They have been breaking sod near here with yoke of oxen.  One man drives, one plows –  and one followes with an ax –  he chops into the upturned sod, and drops corn in the cut, puts his foot on the place, and takes a step and repeats.  I will watch that piece, and see what it amounts to.  We live on buffalo, fish, bread, molasses and coffee.  All have good appetites.  I dont drink coffee –  but we have good water

May 12

Last week a party of Indian Chiefs – passed up the trail on their way to Washington, D.C.  They said they would stay "two moons". 

I have not seen a single unmarried woman since I am here.  There are seven married women in this neighborhood and I will not likely see another all Summer.  They all teas me, and say I am a curiosity to the many bachelor around here. 

Now I must write letters. 

[May] 16

Yesterday I finished a shirt for Philip, and got dinner.  Buffalo stake, radishes, bread, molasses, stewed peaches, and coffee.  A greater variety than usual.  At 3 p.m.  I walked down the river a mile or more to see Mrs Lane.  I can cross the draw near the river, when the water is low, and there I saw three gars – a kind of fish, but not good to eat they say. 

Philip's ankle has not healed yet, from the knife cut.  I feel uneasy about it.  I am so anxious to go to his cabin, I think it would be better for us both. 

Monday [May] 22

Brother started to W[ichita] early this morning.  Now I hope we can go to the cabin soon.  He has been working up on my claim when he felt well enough.  Katura [Rhoda] gave calico before I left and I am making a dress.  My wardroab is rather a slim affair, but it does for this frontier life. 

[May] 25th

This has been a busy week.  Mon.  worked in garden and sewed.  Tues.  washed and ironed.  Wed.  made a tick and two sheets.  Today went down to the cabin where we will live, until the dug out on my claim is finished.  Coming back, it rained, and I got wet through my clothes.  So many new flowers

[May] 27th

I am baking yeast bread, with dry yeast Katura [Rhoda] gave me.  Will write while it bakes.  When finished I will go down to the cabin, and hope to stay.  Would have gone yesterday, but my bed tick, was not yet filled with wild hay.  This is frontier life for sure.  The bread is baked, and "a perfect success".  I am jubilant over it, wont Philip enjoy it. 

[May] 29th

Keeping house at last; moved last week.  The cabin is back from the river, with big cottonwoods trees in front.  The wind in the tree tops keep up a constant sing-song.  The cabin is 12 by 12 feet, with a fire place made of sticks daubed with mud.  The roof is split limbs covered with dirt, and now there is a growth of sunflowers and grass on it.  My bed is a curious affair.  Sticks with crotches are driven in the ground, and then limbs laid acrost, and resting at the head on one of the logs of the house.  Then poles are put acrost, and the tick, and so my bed is fashioned. 

Along one side I have stretched the double blanket, shawl, and the single shawl acrost the end.  It is very nice, but a warm place to sleep.  Cook in the fireplace.  Have a dutch oven, a skilet, teaketle, and coffeepot.  When Philip batched, he had a kettle in which was water and flour, hanging up out side the house, when he wanted biscuits, he poured of[f] the sour water.  Now we have yeast bread, and dont need anything of the kind. 

Mrs Lane told me how to make pie out of sorrel leaves – or wild oxalis.  the kind that has a purple flower.  It tastes like rheubarb when baked, but I could not find any, and as the crust was made, I patted it flat, and made a crumb pie, which I knew Philip would like. 

[May] 31st

Mrs N [West] moved to town.  She gave me her cat.  Cats are very scarce here.  I am kept busy, sewing for Philip, caring for the garden and cooking.  The baking is tedious, can only bake one loaf at a time in the dutch oven.  I kneed a loaf out, when that is light, I put it in the oven, and kneed out another and when the first is baked, the second goes in oven, and the third is kneed out.  All the time I must keep the oven hot enough to bake and brown the bread, which is quite a task and takes three hours or more.  But Philip likes it, and so I enjoy baking. 

June 2nd

We have a table now.  Supper is ready.  For supper we have buffalo, gravy, onions, radishes, molasses, bread.  coffee.  I was to the garden.  It is so far away, and someplaces I wade through grass almost up to my shoulders. 

June 4th

This has been an unusually long day – and I feel depressed.  A shower is coming, hope it will cool the air.  Had some heavy rains last week. 

The heavy rains raised the river, and a heard of cattle in crossing, stampeded.  If the cattle stampede, and dont want to cross the river, the hearders yell and fire off their revolvers.  Sometimes we hear them here, and it sounds – as I suppose a battle does.  It is the cattle that keep the trail worn so smooth.  Their droppings are called "cow chips," and when dry, are burned by those who have no wood. 

Before Mrs N [West] left, two skunks fought on her door step – then ran to the spring, and scented that, that they could not use the water. 

[June] 6th

Philip put a couple of sticks or canes at the door, and charged me never, never to leave the house with out one.  There are some snakes around –  one passed the door this a.m.  and ran into the brush, before I had a chance to kill it. 

June 8th

P[hilip] brought letters, papers – and a pack of seeds from the ranch.  They talk of making it a post office.  I wish they would.  Then we would get the mail regularly.  Now who ever goes to W[ichita] takes letters along and brings back mail for settlers. 

[June] 10

The sun is setting, and the sky is gorgeous.  Yesterday I went down to Lanes –  acrost the draw – or branch, which was so high I had to wade.  Always a trouble to put on shoes and stockings again.  Today I baked and finished reading [my book]. 

One of the boys gave me a bunch of buffalo sinews.  They use them for thread, and to fasten arrow heads to arrows. 

[June] 11

The mosquitoes are so bad, and it is so warm at night in my little bed room. 

June 12

This is the third week I am housekeeping, and in that time there has been but one woman here besides myself.  No church, no parties, a wild Indian sort of a life.  Plenty of time to commmune uninterrupted with Nature, and Nature's God. 

I like it, but if some one said I must stay here always, then I fear I would not. 

[June] 14

We are having such a pleasant rain, I saw a deer to day leaping along through the grass.  To day we heard the Indians had made a [raid on] Bluff creek and killed a man.  That is only 35 miles from here. 

[June] 18th

Good long letters, and papers from the East came yesterday. 

This morning I washed, hung the clothes on the bushes to dry.  Browned coffee, and put more hay into my bed tick.  Now it is 3 p.m.  I am going to the garden for radishes and peas for dinner tomorrow.  John made a rolling pin for me today, before that I used a tin can to roll pie crust and cookie dough. 

[June] 20th

I visited at Roses [Ross'] to day.  This is the first time I have been across the river since I came.  Of course I had to wade –  The river is low.  I wore my new calico dress and a white apron.  Thought I looked nice.  Wonder if I did? 

A Mrs Ingrahm called while I was there, I will try and call on her soon.  She did not seem well.  It

[June] 23d

I was too busy to write yesterday.  Baked such good bread, then dressed the biggest turkey I ever saw, Philip had been saying for a couple days that if that turkey did not stay away he would shoot him.  The breast I slised and fried like stake. 

Brother has been ailing all week, think he is a trifle better this eve.  The bugs are coming in, I must put out the light. 

[June] 24th

Philip had the ague very bad to day. 

[June] 25th

This morning it was so rainy and Philip so sick he could not attend to his oxen.  When the bread was baked, I put on his boots –  and went up to get someone to move the oxen I was a wet fright when I got there, and did not go in the house. 

June 29th

A little rain this a.m.  and cooler since.  Yesterday p.m.  I went to Roses [Ross'].  Her parents and brother have just settled on a claim not far away.  They were going over, and asked me to go along and call.  We had a merry ride and a pleasant call. 

Philips ague is broken, but he looks so bad. 

Was to the garden this a.m.  brought down a lot of cucumbers, and sent them up to Roses [Ross']. 

[June] 30th

Two more Companys of U.S.  Calvary went north.  They spent one night at the crossing.  The Majors name is Harper. 

Last evening I saw a deer leap over the sand hills.  A shower is coming, we need rain badly. 

[July] 3rd

I had expected to spend the 4th at home.  Saw Jake to day, and he says there is to be a picnic down at the old Indian Encampment, and all the neighborhood is invited. 

Mosquitos so bad I must stop. 

[July] 4th

The glorious fourth, not a cloud in the sky.  Mr Smith came for me with a two horse wagon, and we took other women along on the way.  There were two dozen there counting the children.  Five or six bachelors, I the only single woman  –  the rest married folks and children. 

Of course they teas me.  They think I am an old maid.  22 and not married.  Girls marry so young out here. 

As I have no stove  –  they had sent me word not to do any baking.  Mrs Rose [Ross], Mrs Lane and Mrs Springer [Summers] had all baked a plenty.  Then we had canned fruit, lemonadade  –  coffee and roast meats.  A swing for the children, gay conversation for the elders

[July] 6th

While I am not living on my claim it is beeing improved all the time.  The dugout will soon be finished, and for Philips sake I will be glad to get away from the river.  The people here think I am a bunch of contentment, because I dont get homesick, and fuss.  If I do not feel well or am blue, I dont tell every Tom, Dick, or Harry, that is all, except that I possess a big bump of adaptability.  When brother is not well, I try to be cheerful and hopeful, although I could say, and with truth.  "I am not merry, but would feign disguise The thing I am, by seeming otherwise". 

[July] 7th

Mr Rose [Ross] brought me a big letter from home.  He said "Miss B – - if you don't get decent letters, you need not expect me to hurt myself carrying them to you".  He is a funny man. 

[Mr Ross]...keeps a supply of quinine on hand, and some other drugs, and suplies those who have ague – and there are several afficlted now. 

But it is Mrs Rose [Ross] who is the Good Samaritan in this locality.  One day when I was there, she was taking care of a sick hearder, who was lying in the shade of the house.  She was making broth for him etc. 

[July] 8th

You know my object in coming here was a desire to cross the Mississippi and a love of traveling.  Well when I came, every body had taken a claim, or was going to.  So brother said I should take one too.  It was the fashion – and fashion has a great influence on some people.  Any person over 21 years of age, can file on 160 acres of land live on it six months, put up a house, do some plowing etc.  then pay $1.25 an acre, and get a pattent or deed.  This is the Osage Indian Land that was put on the market within a few years.  There is splendid land here, and a prospect of a railroad near, so some think the claims will become valuable in time. 

To be sure a person must put up a great many inconveniences; but to me it is a [???]ility, and I think it fine to live this way a while.  I have been here some months, and although I have not been living on the claim I have been improving it. 

[July] 10th

Last Saturday I walked way past Lanes, down to Marklies [Taylor Markley's], Mr M[arkley] had told Philip he would be away over Sunday, and his wife was so timid, so P[hilip] suggested I go and spend the night with her.  She was so glad to see me, she could talk of nothing else for a while. 

While we were eating dinner, we heard a noise, and some to dozen oxen [longhorns] had come over the river and were in her garden – We yelled – and with broom tried to drive them away – Then they went to a corn patch, and it was not safe to leave the house – as they get cross.  Well it was 4 p.m.  when some men came riding a crost the river for the cattle, and in that time they had nearly destroyed two acres of corn. 

[July] 12th

I am out of sewing.  The river to high to go to Roses [Ross'], and it is too far [to] walk to Springers [Summers'] to get some stiching done.  P[hilip] has had a touch of ague again.  Fixed some plums to dry.  Wrote a four page account of the picnic.  Will send it to a W[ichita] paper. 

[July] 13th

The warmest day we have had. Out on the prairie there is good breeze but between the sand hills and the trees, we get little breeze. I scarcely know what to do, just now I am seeing considerable of the unromantic part of life in Kansas. Even too warm to sleep.

[July] 15th

Yesterday went to Roses [Ross'] – Sewed, and stayed to supper.  This a.m.  the children came, we forded the river, and went pluming. 

[July] 16th

Wichita is 18 months old, and claims 1000 inhabitants.  It is a fast place in more ways than one. 

[July] 17th

Washed, hung the clothes on the bushes to dry.  .  .  .  My washings do not amount to much, two dark shirts for the boys, towls, a sheat and pillow slip, a few things for my self.  I have such an old camp kettle to boil clothes in.  I do not boil my better clothes as it would rust them. 

The boys do not bother me with bed clothes, they sleep on two buffalo robes, and a lot of blankets.  They sleep out doors most of the time.  I have no clothes line, hang them in the bushes & trees, and the breezes waft them dry.  I have no irons, so I go up to Ross' and iron the few starched pieces not expecting to stay long.  I am living as simply as possible.  Glad when the clothes are clean and smell good. 

I have named this home Cotton Wood Villa.  Nearly out of writing paper – Home folks keep us in stamps. 

Some of these young men are nice, and we do have merry times, but it could not be, if my brother was not here.  He is so quiet and particular, and would soon rebuke me if I should be indiscrete. 

He is a good brother. 

[July] 20

The usual a.m.  work, then cut out a basque or sack for me.  Am getting out of every day dresses, but have lots of petticoats. 

[July] 24th

I wanted to wash but it was cloudy.  I baked however, and sewed. 

If it clears off I will wash this p.m.  for I want to go down the river one day the beginning of the week.  I am drying plums, it is slow work.  Evening.  Washed and ironed this p.m.  After supper went up to Ross' to take their iron home.  Mr Ross asked me if I had seen an account of our pic nic in the Wichita paper.  I said no, so he showed me the paper and sure enough, there was the article I had sent.  I had signed myself Spectater.  Must try and get some letters mailed tomorrow. 

July 30th

Have not written for some time, a I am nearly out of paper.  We had a terrible storm last night, and this morning it just poured down.  The roof leaked for the first time.  I slept very little and am nodding now.  The house looks very untidy, only one side leaked which was fortunate. 

The editor of the Wichita Tribune, sent me his compliments, and several papers.  So I hear, but have not seen.  The man who was to have brought the papers is a hard case.  Some threaten him with the "linch law" Do you know what it [is]?  Well when they catch a horse thief they hang him to a tree, that is all. 

[July] 31st

The end of the month and I have accomplished so little.  A good letter from sister Mary.  All well at home. 

[Aug.] 6th

Baked up all my flour yesterday, went up to I[ngmire's] in p.m.  Should have gone before, Several of the family have the ague.  Their roof leaks – and that is bad…

When I came home, my limbs ached so badly, and such a head ache.  I am afraid it will be ague. 

Brother got some flour last night, so I baked two loaves of bread and two pies, and it is Sunday.  My head but little better and my limbs ache so. 

I am sure there are letters for me, between this and Wichita.  There are three streams to cross to get to Wichita The Ninnescah – Cow skin and Arkansas, and usually one or the other are high.  It has been cool for two weeks, and we have had much rain.  The crickets are so bad.  When I turned my bed tick, there was a handful in the corner, next the wall. 

[Aug.] 8th

Brother says, we will move soon.  Felt well this a.m.  Gave the cabin a good cleaning.  The cat had dragged a rabbit under my bed, and eaten a part.  Tom is a nice pet, but sometimes he is a nuisance. 

[Aug.] 10th

Baked yesterday, in p.m.  fever came worse than ever.  P [hilip] said I was getting ready for the ague, and had better take quinine.  So I did, and this a.m.  another dose, by tomorrow I think the quinine will help me.  I do not have chills.  Shall not tell the home folks, it would only worry them.  Philip went to W [ichita] this morning, and will bring me writing paper.  Copies of a W[ichita] paper and their compliments etc.  came.  I will write another article – as soon as I am free of this pestiferous ague. 

[Aug.] 16th

[12th] Moved at last.  All I remember of the moving, was sitting in the waggon, holding the cat.  When we got here, the fever had me, and I could not do a thing.  Philip made a bed on the floor, and I laid down.  My bed was not fixed yet.  When evening came, I was better but scarcely able to walk.  Philip had worked all day – besides moving, had hauled two loads of wood, and Sunday [13th], was not able to be up. 

[14th]Philip fixed things around the house, but at 11 had to lie down with chill.  Yesterday [15th]a.m.  it left for a short time, then came back and he was delerious.  When I cooled his head with wet towls, the teers would fall.  I was in trouble. 

When J.  R.  came for supper, I had him go and see Mr Rose [Ross], who came back with him.  He said it was an attach of billous fever, and left medacine. 

[16th] This a.m.  Mr Rose [Ross] came again.  Brother is better.  I am so thankful – thankful – 

This is my day for ague, but I have taken such big doses of quinine, it may not come back, but the quinine its self makes me half sick.  Philip does not complain, he is so patient.  I must lie down part of the time, but hope we will soon be well.  I think it would have been better for us, had we moved from the river sooner. 

[Aug] 17th

My appetite is coming back.  These are our dark days, but I am not homesick. 

[Aug] 18th

Last night he was wild with fever.  I cannot write what I suffered.  To day he is quite sane, but so weak.  Washed this a.  m.  and baking now. 

[Aug.] 19th

The usual work then spent the rest of the day, trying to make something to tempt his appetite. 

[Aug.] 21st

I call this place Cottonwood Rest.  I want to describe it, if I can.  So if I read this journal in years to come, I can then shut my eyes, and know just how it looks now. 

This is Township 29, Range 2 West, in Section 29.  I think this description is correct.  [28]

We are about a mile from the river.  There is a bank here, which many think was then bank of the Ninnescha – at some time back.  From here to the river it is very level, and my garden is on this level meadow not far from the dugout.  Back of us is prairie a little rolling.  The men first dug a well, and at 6 or 7 ft.  found plenty of water.  They covered it, and it is reasonably cool.  Not far from the well they dug a trench like walk into the bank, when the sides were 4 ft.  high a 12 by 14 ft.  hole was dug out, logs laid to fit the sides.  When high enough – a big log was laid acrost the middle the long way, then split limbs and brush were fit on top for a roof, and that covered with dirt piled on and pressed down.  A fire place, and chimney were dug out and built up, at one end, plastered with mud and it answered well. 

The logs used in Philips cabin as well as in this dugout, were trees cut down by Squaws the last two Winters.  Owing to a scarcety of feed, caused partly by the grass having been burned in the fall, and an unusual amount of snow, the trees were cut down for the horses to eat the buds and limbs. 

This room is a little larger than the cabin.  My bed in the corner has one leg.  A limb with a crotch at one end, is sharpened at the other end, and driven into the ground, 6 feet from one wall and 2 1/2 from the other.  A pole is laid in the crotch-with one end driven into the ground wall.  This supports poles the ends of which are driven in the ground wall at the head of my bed.  Then comes my hay filled tick, and my bed is a couch of comfort.  The double shawl along the side, and the single one at the end – and it looks neat.  Next to the bed, is my trunk, then the table – The next side has the fire place.  The door is opposite the table, then the buffalo robes on which brother sleeps, and his roll of blankets.  While in the corner at foot of my bed are boxes and various things including the tub, which is often pushed under the bed. 

Boxes are nailed to the wall, in which the table furnature is kept, also some groceries.  Our chairs are pieces of logs. 

[Aug.] 22nd

Acrost the river with its fringe of trees – is the I[n]gmire dugout.  That is the only sign of civilization in my circle of vision.  Then toward the right, a little back of the river are the sand hills and a clump of cottonwoods. 

"Beautiful for situation" this certainly is. 

[Aug.] 23d

Messers.  Smith, Stafford and Jake came.  They teased Philip; told him "You wont keep your housekeeper long".  "My gun is loaded" was all he answered, as he pointed to where his gun hung. 

Sept. 1st

Wanted to write before; had no time.  When one has nothing but a dutch oven to bake in, and four men to eat bread it keeps one busy. 

Must go back and write up.  I had baked the Fri.  they came.  Then baked again Sat.  to have bread and pies over Sun.  It was supper time before I got ginger cookies baked.  There were five of us for dinner, so I cut it into five pieces, Mr Rose [Ross] coming while we were at dinner.  I treated him to my piece.  So I never got a taste of the pie. 

Monday put the house to rights, packed provisions and beding – and were ready when Jake drove up with a team of mules to a waggon.  They loaded an open barrel in which to pack the meat, a sack of salt, wood to cook with, bacon & skillet, bread and coffeepot, etc.  The driver [Jake Sohn] called to me "Here is a good place to sit," and I climed up to the spring seat, over which a blanket was folded.  "All ready" and away we went to the southwest, away from the Ninnescah, all in gay spirits, I was the only girl; they all treated me so thoughtfully. 

I had given up going on a hunt, after we had so much ague.  Now we were on the way, and it was quite exciting – 

The buffalo had been within six or eight miles of us a few days before.  The hearders had shot some, and driven others away.  Now there was no telling how far we would have to go, or if we would see any at all.  When out about six miles we passed two carcasses that had lately been shot. 

We went by a dogtown, and saw them frisk into their holes.  We also saw antelopes, prairie chickens and a gray wolf.  This was upland prairie, short grass – buffalo grass, no trees or brush in sight. 

All watched to see the first buffalo – which we spied some five miles on, and to our left.  They are very hard to kill, unless close enough to shoot them in the eye, or back of the shoulder.  Rather than run a chance of loosing them, they decided to wound them that they could not run far.  The one Philip shot, had its leg broken and went a little farther, but the other one though wounded went a bout a mile.  The men hitched the team, we drove near the first one, and we all got out of the waggon, they walked nearer.  I stayed by the team.  We were all looking at the fallen monarch of the prairie, when unexpectedly he jumped up made a dash toward the team, which in turn dashed to run, I being near grabbed a bridle, and managed to hold them. 

That was the buffalos last effort, he fell and was dead.  Unless you have seen one you have no idea how ugly and savage they are. 

The boys complimented me on "saving the day" as they said. 

We drove back to Sandy creek –  and camped for the night, as it was well toward evening.  Besides bacon – we had buffalo stake, bread and coffee, which we ate from and drank from tin cups.  How all enjoyed that supper.  How they joaked and laughed, for every on was satisfied with the days sport. 

Sept. 2nd

Almost discouraged, found Philip with fever again.  I had another chill, and have no appetite. 

[Sept.] 3d

Thousands and thousands of Texas cattle, were driven north this Summer.  Some have been allowed to graze on this side of the river before crossing.  Texas cattle generate – I think that is the word – in their feet during the long trip, a substance that poisens the grass – This does not hurt them – but if native cattle eat that grass it poisens them and they die of wha is called Texas fever

[Sept.] 4th

I am asked sometimes If I am not sick of Kansas.  No I am not.  It is very sickly, nearly every one gets the ague.  But so it is in most new settlements, and one is not always careful. 

Mr Smith had chills and fever, and was flighty, he thought he had a two story head, and could not keep track of the upper story.  That amused the boys.  With all our ague – some funny things happen – and on our free days – we have some hearty laughs. 

The sun is setting, the sky is a glorious vision of colors. 

[Sept.] 10th

My six months will soon be up.  Have been thinking of going to the cabin, since I feel stronger.  Went this p.m.  Took my time and walked slowly.  Sometimes it seemed as if I was taking good bye looks.  Perhaps I was.  It is a long walk.  I find I am not nearly as strong as when I came to Kansas. 

The cabin, so lonely – I could not even rest there. 

I am getting thin, I will soon look like the man who had ague so long, that he looked like two knitting needles, stuck in a mellon seed, as Bess Bee [Belle Butler] said of some one. 

[Sept.] 14th

Last week W[ichita] Tribune had "Here and there from Brains journal" on front page.  Quite flattering, but it was too poor an article for such a conspicuous place

[Sept.] 16th

There were two angry people here to day – and we are not our good natured selves yet.  J.  R.  uses P[hilip's] blankets.  Fortunately, he sleeps out, or up at his clame most of the time when not working down at the ranch or elsewhere.  This morning P[hilip] saw that they were lousy.  His indignation was justafiable. 

We put one at a time in the big camp kettle and boiled them, and I finished them in the tub.  Such heavy work.  Now I hope he will get blankets of his own, and sleep else where.  I hope we wont be sick tomorrow, it will be Sunday, and I must go and do some baking. 

[Sept.] 22nd

Found Mrs L[ane] in bed – Mr L[ane] just able to crawl, and her brother getting supper.  Mush and milk, coffee and pie.  After supper fixed to bake bread next day, then commenced at the dishes, which sat around in confusion, seemed not to have been clened for some days. 

She has what she calls "the flu".  East we call it dysentery.  What with waiting on her, and the mosquitos so nasty, there was little sleep for me. 

Next morning waited on her [wonder who did it when I was not there], washed dishes, pots and pans, I had not found the evening before, dressed a chicken, browned coffee, and what not.  Had chicken and potatoes for dinner.  It was long after noon when the bread was baked, and house tidied up.  Then they wanted me to go to the P.O.  I was too blind to see, what I do now, that any one who could eat as heartily as they did, were better able to go to the office than I was. 

Sept. 24

[Back home.] Did not feel well, but there was so much to do – afer being away as long, but at 5 p.m.  I had a chill.  I slept pretty well last night.  This morning I got up early and got breakfast.  I felt so hungry, as I had not had any supper.  I put the house in order, then washed and combed, and sat down to write.  This is Sunday, and I intend to rest.  Expect Philip towards evening. 

[Sept.] 25

Have not been well to day, a bad attack of diarheoea.  Last night I wanted to go out, and there was a skunk in the door way.  The prairie is on fire somewhere acrost the river, and behind a divide.  In the evening the reflection is georgeous.  There have been fires several days – and the air is quite smoky.  It is early for prairie fires. 

Sept. 30th

Since Monday have been in bed nearly all the time.  Had an attack like Mrs L[ane].  Thankful to be better.  I came the nearest to being homesick I ever was. 

We have not seen Jimmie cat to day.  I am afraid a coyote or gray wolf caught him last night. 

Oct. 3d

Wanted to wash yesterday, but the tub leaked, so I put it to soak.  Baked with the new yeast, and the bread is a "perfect success".  Also baked ginger snaps. 

[Oct.] 6th

Yesterday we had a real wind storm.  Had a blanket up at the door with sticks acrost it to keep from blowing up all the time.  When it was open great rolls of tumble weed would come in.  What a house we had. 

Towards evening, a thunder storm came.  Then it was an unpleasant as it could be.  Cold wind and almost dark.  This is the way some people live all winter.  How true it is that one half the people do not know how the other half live.  I have not wished myself elsewhere, for I want to see how it would be to live on the frontier in all seasons. 

Oct. 14

Saturday I was fixing a duck for dinner, and a goose for Sunday, when Jannette Rose [Ross] came with a letter for me.  Father sent me a draft of $300.00 to prove upon my claim. 

Then Mr Springer [Summers] came for me, they were ready to start on a hunt.  I would rather have stayed home, but had promised Mrs S[ummers] I would stay with the children. 

It was windy all the time they were gone.  Pieces of the chinking would fall out from between the logs, on the south side of the house.  The house which was 18 by 14 had no windows.  Along one side were two beds – at one end a stove, along the other side were a table and chairs – and at the other end chests or trunks. 

They had to go so far, before they found any buffalo, is what had kept them so long.  I wanted to go home at once – but they said it was too late, and they were tired, would take me home in the morning.  Thursday early – we saw smoke and thought the fire was coming over the divide toward us.  so they rushed out to plow a fire guard beyond their hay stacks.  The wind favored them, and the fire did not get on their side of the branch, but all between the branches – and beyond – way up this way, and on to the river. 

Brother was alone, and had his hands full.  He quick "back fired" when he saw the fire coming, then moved the ox there, after which he had to watch the dugout.  Half our wood burned and a load of chips.  The ground thrown out when they built the dug out, helped to save it.  From Springers [Summers'] we could see the flames beyond the branch – when it burned the sunflowers on Mr Smiths clame, It burned Elsworths hay stacks and some others, also Mr Smiths stable and corn crib.  He is away freighting. 

I was so anxious about my brother – but could not go to him.When he came up here, Philip had gone to the river to see his cabin, which fortunately escaped… When John got here, there was a skunk in the room or dug out, and what did he do but shoot it behind my trunk!

Mrs S[ummers] gave me some buffalo meat and two preserving citrons.  She offered to pay me for staying with the children, but I considered it an act of neighborliness, and told her so.  She is a vary capable woman. 

Mrs S[ummers] has very good beds, and nice beding.  Nice linen table cloths & towls etc.  Sheets – the nicest lot I have seen since I left home.  She [h]as a sewing machine too. 

When the boy and I finaly got started in the big waggon toward home, and when we rounded the branch we were on burned over ground.  What a dreary sight it was – not a green thing in sight, except the trees at the river.  I had expected to find things looking bad, but my imagination was short, far short of the fact.  The prairie had burned black and even; but over the bottom where the grass grew rank, it left the blackened stalks standing.  The ground was still hot, and a high wind blowing. 

Everything in the house was covered with burned grass – that blew in  – and O the skunk smell, how it sickened us.  Philip was angry at J.  R.  for shooting the skunk in the house – but that did not help matters any

Oct. 18th

Have been too busy to write.  Cleaned the house and wrote letters.  Monday washed, baked, and made brine for the meat.  Yesterday finished the white clothes, dressed a prairie chicken, and wrote a letter. 

It still smells of skunk.  Had to turn the head of my bed, it prevented my sleeping. 

[Oct.] 21st

This a.m.  P[hilip] shot a rat at the foot of my bed.  That is the third he has shot here.  They call them wood rats. 

[Oct.] 25

Mr Stafford came to plow.  I was so glad, we have to have a certain amount broke before we can prove up, but his plow would not work, so he went home. 

[Oct.] 31st

The last of the month and my time is up.  As soon as the plowing is done we will go to [the land office at] Augusta and prove up.  It is cold and stormy.  Yesterday it rained all day.  The rain froze on the grass. 

[Nov.] 4th

Plowing with two yoke of oxen.  P[hilip] is helping.  It will take them five day next week, to finish.  Lanes had their best horse stolen, what a pity they cant get the thief. 

Sometimes a thousand geese and brance [brants] fly up and down the river, and fill the air with their gabbling.  The coyotes often make the night hideous with their howling.  Have not had any ague for over two weeks – but take medacine every other day. 

[Nov.] 8th

We have no broom.  When I sweep, I take a turkey wing in each hand, sweep out a corner, then step there, and sweep a head of me, until the floor is all swept.  Sweep every thing into the fire place.  Two small store boxes – resting on wooden pegs – serve for cupboards.  I have them curtained, on one side are two boxes, one upon the other.  In one I keep the groceries – in the other dried fruit.  We have a shelf for papers and books.  Two more shelves near the fire place, with cans, bottles etc.  Another large box – on top of which is the flour sack, and inside the coaloil [kerosene] can etc.  And a block on which we keep the water bucket.  And two trunks – that I believe is all the furnature.  I forgot the table – "cheap and handy.  Varnished, and never gets soiled". 

[Nov.] 11th

This is a rainy Sunday.  It still smells skunky.  I think some of calling this place Skunk Retreat. 

[Nov.] 15th

Yesterday I washed, baked bread and pies, was busy all day.  The boys did not get home until an hour after sunset.  They had a goose and prairie chicken.  It took me all a.m.  to dress them, do my work and get dinner; then no one came to eat it.  I am beginning to gather my possessions together, and pack. 

[Nov.] 20th

[After a two-day journey] we drove on into Augusta.  While Mr Stafford cared for the team, we went direct to the Land Office.  I had little to do, beside sign my name and pay $1.25 an acre or $200 – , and some office fees, after which we received a certificate.  The pattent will be made out in Washington D.  C., and sent to us.  Now I am owner of 160 acres of land.  Were my nice smooth land in Pa.  it would be worth a little fortune. 

[Nov.] 23d

[After a long and difficult journey back home] I stayed at the cabin.  I had covered the coals, so I soon had a good fire.  Being hungry, I made coffee and boiled mush – which I ate with much molasses, and considerable relish, having had no dinner.  Hunger is a good cook. 

[Nov.] 24th

Last night in the cabin.  Up early.  Breakfast of mush, molasses, sweet potato and coffee.  I bid the cabin good bye, and went to the dug out to pack. 

When done packing, I made a can of chocolate, and ate some ginger snaps.  There I sat by the fire, and went over the days I had spent in the dugout. 

The slow way of baking took so much time, then reading and writing – trying to make Philip comfortable, and having the ague so often filled up my days.  Trying days when Philip was sick.  Exciting days when brother H[iram] and cousin Tom came, and we went on a buffalo hunt.  Dreary days when it stormed.  Light hearted days when I could go to the garden and plant, or bring up good fresh things to cook, and now a sad day of leaving.  I dont want to leave brother here – he is not well, and has only half promised to go East for the winter. 

Finaly I looked at the little home, the well, the garden and the surroundings, then started on my long walk to Lanes.  I felt real sorry to leave.  As I stood alone by the dugout – no one in sight, no visible sign of civilization – except the roof of Igmyer's [Ingmire's] dugout acrost the river, I felt depressed.  I was so glad to be with Philip for over seven months.  Now I was leaving.  When would I see him again? 

The snow was melting, and my feet got wet. 

[Nov.] 29th

This morning I went up town before train time.  Stoped at a shop and bought some curos [two arrows and a piece of petrified wood].  The shop keeper told me much about Indians there.  Many of them are farming etc.  He called my attention to one who was passing, who he said was Chief Big Foot.  He had on many coats and the out side one was a linen duster.  As the ground was covered with snow, he was a sight. 

A map of landownership in Clearwater in 1882.

Find:
 •  the Clearwater Ford, where she crossed the flooding Ninnescah River
 •  the ranch of Edward Murray, who put her on a pony to take to her brother when she arrived in Clearwater
 •  the claim of her brother, Philip Bright; Philip was murdered in 1873, but Abbie, who inherited the plot, rented it to a local farmer
 •  the claim of Mr Stafford, who ploughed her land
 •  the claims of her friends: Mrs West (called 'North' in the Diary), Mrs Summers (for whom she babysat), Mr Ross (who supplied the quinine), John Roberts ('J.R.' - who annoyed her so much) and Jake (Sohn, who gave her a table)
 •  the claim of George Cramer, one of the men who went on the buffalo hunt with her
 •  the claim of WC Woodman, who owned the town store
 •  Abbie's name is not on the map, because she sold her claim when she left Clearwater; neither can I find on the map claims for Mr Smith, Mrs Louckey, the Lanes, the Ingmires or the Markleys - presumably they, too, had to give up on their dream.