EARLY HISTORY OF FRONTIER COUNTY NEBRASKA

EARLY HISTORY AND REMINISCENCE
OF
FRONTIER COUNTY
NEBRASKA

FIRST CHRISTMAS

The Indians that camped on the Medicine in 1870 were Whistler's Band, that had been out off from the tribe of Spotted Tail, the big Sioux chief. Hank and Montie Clifford and John Nelson were with them and had Indian families; W. H. Miles found them, built a Smoke-house, dried buffalo meat and trapped during the winter. Also, the writer took a homestead, the first in the territory now comprising Frontier County.

We killed the buffalos, and the squaws tanned the robes, until we had ten thousand pounds of meat and a thousand tongues dried, that we expected to ship East.

But, alas! a shadow came over the spirit of our dreams of wealth, in the shape of sixty Indians that came down to spend the winter with us, which they did. The meat and tongue went to entertain our guests.

We prepared for a "big time" on Christmas; so Clifford went into town and brought out some "fixin's" such as currants, sugar, etc.; last but not least, a keg of whiskey, of which Indians and all indulged freely. The Indians had a war dance which came very near to a "killing off;" but we had a good time all the same.

The Indians said they would celebrate Christmas too, by killing and eating all the dogs In the village. I had a fine dog and told them to spare him; but the first thing I saw Christmas morning was poor Dodge roasting on the fire. There were ten dogs eaten at the first Christmas celebration in Frontier County.

Mr. John Bratt, the cattle king of Nebraska, came over from the Platte and proposed to organize a county. We favored the proposition, but our population was so numerically small we hadn't enough to fill the offices. There being four of us, I was the only one but what belonged to the Sioux Indians in the territory of the proposed county. Mr. Bratt, being a man of indomitable will, did not intend that the want of a few men should hinder the organization at that time.

It scarcely seems twenty-two years ago when a few of us got together and determined to organize the county of Frontier, at that time the home and paradise of the buffalo and the Indian. I had already consulted with Montie and Hank Clifford, who were at that time living in teepees with their squaws, papooses and Indian relations near Coon Creek; also with that nature's nobleman, the whole-souled, generous hearted Sam Watts, W. H. Miles and a (11) few others, as to the boundary of the county, location and name of the county seat, Stockville, and who the county officials should be. These matters decided, we went to work with a will, and considerable expense; succeeded in getting an act passed by the legislature, which was approved January 17, 1872, by Wm. H. James, then acting governor and Secretary of State, bounding the county of Frontier, whose organization was entrusted and commissions issued to Levi Carter, my partner, as county treasurer; John Kirby, clerk; Hank Clifford, sheriff; E. G. Nesbitt, superintendent of public instruction; Samuel F. Watts, judge; A. S. Shelly, coroner; James Kerr, assessor; John Y. Nelson, surveyor; W. H. Miles, Monte Clifford and your humble scribe, commissioners.

Well do I remember starting out from Ft. McPherson at between eleven and twelve o'clock on a bitter cold night in January, 1872, the day prior to our organization set by law, in company with John Kirby, whom I had to take before a justice of the peace, E. F. Erickson, to have sworn into the office of clerk, before starting.

We were both mounted on two slippery shod horses; the ground being partially covered with ice and snow made the trip from Ft. McPherson to our ranch, at the head of Fox Creek, anything but pleasant, especially to a man of Mr. Kirby's size, an inexperienced rider as he was. His horse, though I had given him the best one, persisted in falling down on the ice, and it was only by coaxing that I got him to finish the journey to Fox Creek Ranch, where we arrived shortly before daybreak and where I had sent, the day previous, a team with the county books, blanks, commissions, etc., in care of Jones and Kerr, two of our men, who were appointed to fill two of the offices.

After partaking of a hasty breakfast consisting of biscuits, buffalo meat and coffee, Kirby and I started in a light rig with the box of books, etc., followed by Kerr and Jones on horseback, en route for Hank Clifford's tepee on Coon Creek. At this time there was not much of a road between Fox Creek and the Medicine, east of Curtis Creek, and it usually required the skill of a careful driver, even with a gentle team, to go through the breaks of Fox and Curtis creeks without upsetting.

Before leaving Fox Creek Ranch, I had put in the team a green Texas horse that had scarcely ever seen a rig, say nothing about pulling one. It took four of us to hitch him up; but once started, after kicking, rearing and plunging for about a mile, he (12) sobered down to his share of the work, but was far from being bridlewise.

We had got safely out of the second canyon east of Fox Creek, and had stopped preparatory to descending a steep hill leading into another canyon, when I insisted that Kirby should get out, to which he strenuously objected, remarking that he dared to ride where I rode. The hill was long and very steep, some parts of it covered with ice, especially at and near the top; other parts of the buffalo trail we were following were covered with snow. The morning was bright but stinging cold with a sharp wind blowing.

I hesitated some time, surveying my intended route down the hill before starting, having a lack of faith in the Texas side of our team when and where careful driving was needed to got us over bad places without accident, since our Texas horse, in the short distance we had come, had indicated a very strong desire to go one way while I would endeavor to persuade him to go another This caused me to insist and then beg of Kirby, who was an old Missourian and knew no fear, to get out, telling him at the same time we were liable to upset.

But it was no use; might as well talk to a stone. After taking a big drink out of a suspicious-looking canteen, he gave orders to "let her go," and I obeyed, using all the precaution I possibly could. We had proceeded but a little way down the hill when our horses lost their footing, and the wagon likewise. The dashboard was on my neck, and both horses; especially my Texas friend was making a target of my head with his hind feet. Fortunately I held onto the reins and, after being dragged under the buggy about two hundred yards, I was finally extricated by Kerr and Jones.

Alas! poor Kirby lay groaning where he had fallen, the box of books having rolled down the hill, some distance from him. We were sorry to find Mr. Kirby's arm broken in two places, and collar bone fractured. The only words we succeeded in getting from him were:
"Let me die right here."

As soon as we could fix up the breakages on the wagon and tongue, we lifted poor Kirby into it, much against his protests, and I led the team back to Fox Creek Ranch. Here we laid him carefully on the bed, at which I knelt while he swore me into office of county commissioner, and I left him in care of three of our men with orders to take him to Ft. McPherson as quick as they could and as easy as possible.

(13) This done, I again started with that team and that box, with which I arrived at Hank Clifford's Indian lodge, near Coon Creek, at nearly six o'clock that night. Here our would be county dads had assembled and were impatiently awaiting my arrival. It was but a few moments before our box was opened, the officers sworn in, the commissions distributed. But lo! when we came to sign our names we had neither ink, pen nor pencil. Necessity, the mother of invention, came to our rescue. A stick was sharpened, some soot scraped from the teepee poles, our names signed--the organization of Frontier County was complete.

Returning to Fox Creek Ranch the following day, I was almost paralyzed to find my friend Kirby yet on the bed where I had laid him, his arm and shoulder swollen to an enormous size. He had a six-shooter by his side and threatened to shoot the first man that disturbed him. I took the revolver away from him unnoticed. Meantime I had our men prepare a wagon with hay and quilts, into which it took six of us to handle and lay him. We got him into the hospital at Ft. McPherson about three o'clock the next morning, where Dr. Elbery, one of the most efficient of army surgeons, attended him and I am pleased to say saved his life, which for some years afterward was devoted to the interests of your county. Kirby finally went back to Missouri, where he died. Finis.

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