Give Me A Horse

Chapter XXXIX

     In September of 1853 a caravan of prairie schooners from Heltonsburg, Ind., rolled westward with 18 people ranging in age from two years to 55, six wagons, two buggies, 16 oxen, ten horses, 15 loose cattle and one dog.

     They were bound for Lucas County, Iowa where land was cheap, life rugged and opportunity boundless.

     In this company was Ellen Berry, 12 years old.  Seventy years later, Ellen who was by this time Mrs. Sam Badger, well known in this community dictated the full story of that long journey.

     Daisy Badger Best has loaned to this writer the type-written booklet just as Ellen Berry Badger dictated it.  It has been studied, analyzed and the following article has been adapted from it.

     These persons made up the party: Henry Thomas, his wife, four sons and two daughters.

  His eldest son, Wash, had already lived in Appanoose County a year or two and had driven back to Indiana to haul a load for his father.  One of the Thomas boys was large enough to help drive the loose cattle.  The two daughters were Miranda and Adelaide.  Mr. Thomas owned three of the wagons and one buggy.  He drove one of his wagons drawn by three yoke of oxen.

     He had, some years before, driven to California during the gold rush.  Another of his wagons was driven by Butler Utterback and the third was driven by another son.  Mrs. Thomas and Miranda rode in the buggy.

     Then there was Mrs. Mitchell and daughter who drove the other buggy.  Her son Will already lived in Appanoose County and had driven his team back to Indiana to move his mother’s goods.

     In another wagon was Julian, age 24, his wife Amanda and a baby two years old.  The other wagon was owned by Isaac Julian and its passengers were his wife Lucretia, her sister Ellen Berry, mentioned above and their brother Aleck, 20 years old.

     Father Julian, known as Uncle Renee, belonged to both the Julian wagons.  He and Jacob Julian were brothers.  They had two horse teams and a strong yoke of oxen that worked to the wagons most of the time so the Thomas boys and Aleck Berry could have the horses to drive the loose cattle.

Bidding Farewell

     The assemblage got under way before noon.

     Ellen writes: “I cannot remember what we had for dinner that day but I do recall that not many of us felt like eating after bidding farewell to so many relatives and friends, many of whom we knew we would never see again.  Our cooking was done around little campfires.  All of us had cooked in fireplaces in big chimneys and we brought our cooking vessels – iron pots for boiling, skillets and three-legged ovens for frying and baking and iron tea kettles.  Coffee pots were of tin.  We had to wait until live coals could be shoveled aside to set the coffee pot on to boil.”

     “We also placed ovens and skillets on live coals, put the food in, covered with hot lids, then shoveled live coals on top and soon we could have nice brown corn pone, wheat biscuits or baked potatoes.  The lids had an eye molded on top and we had pot hooks to lift the lids with.  No one in the party had ever used a cook stove.  I had never even seen more than three or four.”

     One studies a map to follow the trail taken by this slow-moving caravan.  They crossed the Big Salt Creek at Fairfax, Ind.  “This was the largest watercourse and bridge that we children had even seen.  It was about the size of our Chariton River and here was the biggest watermill in the entire country.  In time of draught, when other streams had dried up, people for miles around brought their grain to be ground.”

Saw First Train

     Next high mark of the day was when they came in sight of Bloomington, where they saw the first train the youngsters and most of the grown-ups had ever seen.  It was during that summer that trains began running on the new “Monon” road, known as the Chicago, Indianapolis and Louisville.

     Ellen’s story goes on: “It was getting late.  This had been our first day out.  We struck camp – all except Isaac, Lucretia and I.  We went on seven miles to spend the night with our father, John Marr Berry, our stepmother, brother George and three little half brothers William, John and Francis.  Mother had a good supper ready.  The next afternoon we bade a long farewell and started on to catch the party.  This was the last time we ever saw our father or step-mother but all of our brothers except George have visited us in Iowa homes.

Featherbed Near Fire

     “The weather was fine.  We had only one rainy day in the 24 we were on the road.  The little Thomas boys, Adelaide and I walked most of the way – much of the time barefooted.  Isaac and Lucretia slept all the time in their wagon except the one rainy night when they secured lodging in a home and Uncle Renne and Aleck slept in the wagon.”

      “If the weather was clear, these two would spread their big fat featherbed before the campfire, but if cloudy, they would make their bed under the wagon.  All the others could manage to sleep in their wagons.

Horse Thieves

     “Next day, Sept 16, we came to Little White River.  To us children this was a very big river.  We had to be taken across in a flat boat, guided by men with poles.  It was like a floating bridge.”

     On the third day we came to Terra Haute on the Wabash and camped on the east side near the big bridge we were to cross.  By this time, we were getting used to the road and camping.  We were all getting acquainted and beginning to have fun, especially the children but this night we were all afraid.  There were many horse thieves in Indiana.  Shortly after we struck camp, three suspicious looking men came looking around, asking questions that did not sound good.”

     “Our men ordered them to leave and followed them to see that they did.  They told them that it would not be in their best interest to show up again.  There were several guns in our party and our men knew how to use them.  Nobody slept much that night and all guns were ready to lay hand on but the strangers did not come back.”

     “Each wagon was equipped with a good stout box on the rear.  These carried cooking utensils, chairs, of which each family had three or four, and also served as feed boxes for the horses.  Crossing the Wabash was easy for the wagons but we had a hard time getting the loose cattle across.  They were afraid to go on it and when we could get them started, some passenger would come from the opposite direction and they would all turn and run wild.”

A Toll Plank Road

     “I cannot remember how many days we were getting out of Indiana or all the towns we passed through but the next river had no water but a big covered bridge.  Aleck thought it had been started for a college for they could not have needed a bridge where there was no water.”

     “We ate our dinner by that bridge.  We traveled quite a long distance on a plank road and paid toll.  It was called “The National Road”.  Here was the first telegraph line we children had ever seen.

“The Lone Prairie”

      “There was outlying land all the way where the cattle could pick most of their living at night and also while we rested for dinner and were feeding the teams.  The days seemed the longest and most lonesome crossing the big prairies of Illinois.  We traveled many long hours seeing nothing but a sea of waving prairie grass.”

      “You cannot measure distance over waving grass any better then you can looking over water.  We crossed one of these said to be 20 miles wide.  We had to take firewood with us and water for the people but the stock had to do without until we got across where there were farms and then we came to a big spring of the finest water flowing from a field by the roadside.”

      “This was great camping ground for the travelers.  Wash Thomas and Will Mitchell had been over this road twice before and knew where the best camping grounds were.

Another Dog

      We came in sight of Peoria.  Here Jacob Julian went into the city to see his aunt Lila Kelo, who gave him a big dog.  Now we had two dogs.  I can see him yet, leading his dog and hurrying to catch up with us.

Melee In The River

      “The Illinois River was larger than any we had crossed.  At Beardstown we were taken across on a horse-power boat – a stall on each side held a blind horse treading on a rolling platform which rolled as they stepped and the faster they stepped, the faster we rolled along.  It was a pitiful sight to see the poor blind horses working so hard and getting nowhere.  Great track holes were worn in the platform where they had stepped in the same places.  Our experience here was the worst of the whole trip.

      “The boatsmen did not want to take the large loose cattle on the boat but were willing to take the little calves.  The big ones would have to be driven and would have to swim part of the way, so they got the calves on the boat and started the cattle ahead.”

      “I was on the boat with the calves and two or three wagons.  Aleck and Jake were on the horses driving the cattle.  Then the cows and calves began bawling to each other so the cows all came back to the boat.

      “Mr. Thomas was very excited, came down the bank, pulled off his suspenders, tied them around his waist and said: “Give me a horse and by the Eternal, those cattle have got to swim across”.  He ordered the boat to go ahead and he, Aleck and Jake drove the cattle in again.  Oh, it was an awful sight!  It looked so dangerous to see the men on horses and the cattle all swimming.  Jake’s wife screamed as though she would go into fits and some of the rest of us felt like screaming.   We all got safely over but one of the horses that had been in the water so long was so chilled that big knots drew up over his body.  He recovered enough to travel after dinner and did make the trip but was never any good afterward.  It was Isaac’s horse.

      “We didn’t have any fun that day.  On this side of the river for a long way, the road was deep sand.  The wagons cut down, making such hard pulling for the teams – it was as bad as pulling through deep mud.  Everybody walked except the drivers and it wasn’t pleasant walking.  None of us ever forgot Beardstown and the Illinois River.

The Capitol

     We arrived at Springfield one bright morning.  We children were all barefooted.  We stopped long enough to take a good look at the Capitol.  Oh, what a picture we would have made to look at in later years!  At Carthage, Ill., we stopped to cook our dinner.  Some of the men went into town to get supplies and found an old friend, a Mr. Clampitt from our own home county in Indiana.  He came to camp and visited with us until we had to move on.  He told us that this was the town where Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet, was thrown from a window and killed.  He pointed out the window.  This was another awful thing for us youngsters to remember.

Friends Must Part

     “Finally we reached the big Mississippi.  On the Illinois side was the ugly little town of Warsaw.  On the opposite side was the equally ugly town of Alexandria.  We had had good roads, lots of fun and the whole party seemed like one family.  A steam ferry took us across the river – another new sight to us.  We were told that we were in Missouri.  We could look up the river and see Keokuk.  I do not remember how long we traveled before we came into Iowa.”

     “Soon the Thomas’s, the Mitchells and Butler Utterback separated from us and took the road to Appanoose County.  I never saw one of them again.  We were so lonesome without them but were cheered by the thought that in a few days, we four, Isaac, Lucretia, Aleck and I would reach Lucas County where lived our sister, Susannah and husband James and their children Jacob and Eliza.  James and his father’s family had come three years before.

     The next day the Julians left us, Uncle Renee, Jacob, his wife and baby Willie and their six head of cattle.  They went into Marion county.  Isaac’s cow got loose and ran like a deer and they could never find her so the trip cost Isaac a horse and a cow.  The Julians went to the home of Leannah and her husband Thompson Woody, whose family had come three years before.

Alone In The Wilderness

     Saturday afternoon, Oct. 8, our wagon was now alone and I supposed we were in Lucas county.  We struck camp.  We were told it was Cedar Creek.  It was woody and wild looking.  We stopped near a sawmill but there was no one around and not a house in sight.  The leaves were falling.  We were very lonely and afraid of horse thieves.”

     “We spread our bed before the campfire, placed the wagon with the horses tied to it as close to the fire as was safe then slipped off our shoes and lay down, Isaac and Aleck with their hands on their guns.  We didn’t sleep much and at the first sign of daybreak we were up, feeding the horses, getting our breakfast and were early on the road to Chariton.  It was a beautiful Sunday morning but oh, so lonesome.  Aleck walked all the way with his gun on his shoulder hoping to get a prairie chicken.  I walked most of the time as the load was quite heavy.  This was our 24^th day on the road.  I cannot remember how many houses we passed between Cedar Creek and Chariton but I remember it mostly as a prairie of waving grass.”

Two Stores In Chariton

     “We reached Chariton in mid-afternoon.  There were two stores – Hill’s and Wescott’s.  If Palmer’s and VanSickle’s were not here, they came soon after.  The log courthouse was on the east side (where Turner’s store stands today). It was two stories with an outside stairway on the south side.  It served for the court and for church services.  I have attended church there many, many times.  A lodge room was on second floor.”

     “Back to the road Uncle Joe Mitchell (James’ father) had settled on the place which is now the County Farm.  It had been entered from the government.  Our cousins, Jesse Wells and wife and Elizabeth (Wells) Scott and her husband Aaron and his brother Cyrus had come about 1849.  (Mr. and Mrs. Aaron Scott were grandparents of Morris Scott of Chariton.)  Cyrus was riding a horse and he galloped on ahead to tell the folks that a prairie schooner was bring the Julians and the Berrys.  We came in sight of Uncle Joe’s cabin, they were all out waving hands and kerchiefs.  There was only one house between them and town.  The sun was rather high – no one had clocks or watches.  We guessed the time of day by the sun when it shone and when cloudy, by guess; at night by the moon and stars.

     “We went on to Jim and Susannah’s place.  She was alone with her two children, Joe five years and Eliza two.  Jim had gone to Keokuk for a load of goods for the Chariton merchants and to get winter supplies for their family.  It took five or six days to make these trips to the river town.  She watched as our wagon drew near.  She didn’t know Isaac.  Aleck was far behind, still hunting a prairie chicken.”

     “Isaac asked her if we might camp for the night.  She said: “I’ll have to see who is in that wagon before I can say.”  When she saw us, oh, the joy of that meeting!

     “On Monday Jim returned with his load and there were eight of us in the 18x20 cabin and we were out of breadstuff.  Someone must take corn and buckwheat to the mill, a three-day trip.”

     “Sugar was scarce and expensive.  Sorghum was unheard of until five years later.  Melons grew fine on the new land.  We boiled down watermelon juice to a syrup and made preserved in it.  Muskmelons made a stiff butter that would keep a long time.  We had wild plums, crabapples and blackberries.  We dried lots of pumpkin for winter sauce.

Game Aplenty

     “Isaac always took his gun when going any distance and we were seldom without fresh meat – prairie chicken, rabbit, wild turkey and deer.  Many were the venison hams we dried for summer use.  We had plenty of milk and butter – when we could find the cows.  They would wander away in the tall grass and we could not always find them.  Every herd had a bell and everyone knew the sound of his own bell.  Their tinkle far and near, the wolves and prairie chickens made most of our music.  Isaac would spend whole days in the timber making rails and always brought a load of wood home.  He made rails to fence 16 acres.

Wild Fire

     “The bluestem grass covered most of the land.  In some places it grew as high as a man on a horse.  When dry it was dangerous.  It would travel faster than anyone could run and would set everything in its path on fire – a corn field, fences, haystacks, houses and stables.  The men plowed guards but in a high wind it would leap over them.  We had many hard fights and many losses.  One time, my eyebrows were burned off when a flame licked my face but luckily, my clothes did not catch fire.”

     “We had no wheat bread until we raised it.  We had brought half a sack of wheat flour but we saved it to make gravy.  When we raised the wheat, there were no threshing machines so it had to be beaten out with a flail or spread out on level ground, then ride the horses over it until it was tramped loose then we would gather it up and pour it down wind to get the chaff out.  In August we took some to the mill but there was so much smut in it that the flour was only a shade lighter then the ground and our biscuits, if dropped on the ground, looked just like a clod.  But they tasted better than they looked.

Sorrow

     In the spring of 1854, sister Lucretia gave birth to a two-pound baby boy who lived only ten days and many days we feared Lucretia would not recover.  It was June before she was able to be up.  Dr. Frank Fitch was the only doctor who would go into the country.  As he served both Clarke and Lucas counties there was no certainty when he would arrive.”

     “I was 13 years old.  I did my best to care for my sick sister and the baby.  There were three men to cook for around the fireplace, and two cows to milk (none of the men could milk), Susannah and I dressed the little dead body and put it in a little box.  It looked so pretty, just like a little doll.  Isaac and some men took it to the little cemetery a mile and a half southeast of Chariton, on the west side of the Chariton-Russell Road.

     “As time went on, my brothers were married and settled in homes of their own, some far away and I never saw them again.  Brother William and Francis and their families lived in Chariton for a while, but returned to Indiana.  James and Susannah moved to Osceola.  James enlisted in the Union Army and died at St. Louis.  Their son Joe, was the late J. C. Mitchell, a lawyer, well known in Lucas county and Ottumwa.”

     On December 25, 1866, Ellen Berry, was married to Samuel Badger.  He had served three years in the Civil War Company K 34^th Iowa Inf. Under Col. Warren S. Dungan.  Their family consisted of the late Emma and Clara Badger, lifelong residents of Chariton and a son John.

Pages 192-201