EARLY HISTORY AND REMINISCENCE OF FRONTIER COUNTY NEBRASKA

      The first preacher in the county came in 1870. Miles and Clifford were trapping and poisoning wolves. One day when we went to our wolf baits we found a man almost dead near where he had roasted some of the poisoned meat. We saw at once that something must be done for him quick. We put him on a horse and took him into camp on the Muddy. We forced grease, whiskey and everything we could get down him. After a great deal of work with him, he was relieved from the effect of the poison; and when conscious, he looked around with astonishment on the Indians and longhaired men with buckskin suits on. He thought he was a subject for a war-dance or a scalping-bee. We told him he was with friends and that he would not be hurt. He said that he had come out with a hunting party from away down East, got lost.

     "I was almost starved when I found the poisoned meat. I am a preacher and will pray for you as long as I live, in return for the favors and kindness you have shown me."

     One of our men took him back to his camp, and the party returned home, saying:

     "We do not like buffalo hunting very well."

    
     The winter of 1871 and '72 is long to be remembered.

     The "chuck pile" had run low in our little village and the papooses began to have a far-off look in their eyes for something, to eat. So it was time for the nimrods to start out and win. Hank Clifford, John Nelson and myself, whites. Crooked Nose, Bobtail Horse, Big Elk and Long Man, Indians, decided to follow the buffalo (30) and elk to their secret haunts. Guns, cartridge belts, bows and arrow, knives. etc., were put in readiness and at sunrise the next morning, we started o'er the desert waste of pathless snow-fields, not a bird or beast to lure us on, or incite our drooping spirits. The sun's last rays were fading on the far-away western hills before he had shown how near the day was done.

     We then saw a lone leafless tree, to which we went, broke off the bending boughs and built a fire. Around this the braves of Frontier County set, cold, tired, discouraged. The earth seemed famished while the stars of heaven glared like the eyes of hungry wolves on us, as we slept in the snow by the dying embers of the last campfire shared by red men of the plains, in this county, on a buffalo hunt.

     As soon as the long cold night had worn away we started on to get breakfast. The Indians "put out on a trot," and I followed, as I wanted to be at the first table. After a run of about ten miles, most of the party had dropped out and Crooked nose was in the lead. Suddenly he stopped and crouched down. I did the same but saw nothing. He pointed off to the south. There stood a lone buffalo, the last one of the numerous thousands of these noble animals that had roamed over our county drunk of the rippling waters of the Medicine and lain beneath the leafy branches of the forest trees, to rest at noontide unmolested.

     After crawling in the snow for an hour, Mr. Indian got within fifty yards of the buffalo and shot him through the heart. The lonely bison made a leap in the air and fell dead. It was getting late and we had had nothing to eat since the day before. We cut the meat off the bones and broke them over his horns to get the marrow, then cut out the liver and ate it with the marrow for butter.

     This buffalo was the rear guard of the main herd that was leaving the country and their old haunts in Frontier, for the South. They left a beaten trail where thousands had gone before. The Indians soon left for Spotted Tail reservation, on the White Earth River to the north. There the Indian and buffalo which had existed together for ages, separated. They fled toward the setting sun, before the invincible march of the paleface, whose great works will crumble beneath the weight and rust of time and they too, will leave but the mounds of their existence, as other builders of centuries past, without a ripple in the stream of time.

     In 1878 the Sioux Indians ran away from the reservation in Indian Territory and started back to northern Nebraska, their former hunting grounds. They whipped the soldiers, then killed and pillaged everything in their path. The commanding officer at Fort McPherson sent me notice, by a soldier, for everybody to run for their lives, as the soldiers could not, protect the settlers. The settlers, generally, went to Cambridge, Furnas County, and built a fort. 

     I did not like to leave our little home and lose all we had; so went over and saw D. C. Ballentine, and we decided to go in a cave on my ranch. This cave is ten by fifteen feet, under a bluff fifty feet high. The Medicine Creak runs within a few feet of the mouth. This we fortified, took in a camp outfit and provisions for a siege. Dave Ballentine took in his wile and child. Miss Mamie Timmons and I assisted my mother, and all went in the cave, from which we stood the bloodthirsty savages off, and they failed to get us out of the cave.

     Frontier County stands unrivaled in her noted pioneers, her brave, honest, intelligent men and women that came and built themselves pleasant homes within her borders, who ran the financial affairs in an economical and efficient manner so that no man grew opulent while holding office.

     In 1879 one Enos Furgeson was the only candidate for sheriff. He was elected and thought there was big money in the office, besides the honor of being "high sheriff." But he soon found out that Frontier County did not support anyone in idleness; so he gave up the position and left.

     The people of this county can boast of the fact that no county in the State has been the abode of fewer desperadoes, and less crime, than Frontier. Twenty-two years have swung out, on the pendulum of time, since the county was organized, and but one murder has been committed within the boundaries, by a settler, to blacken a page of its history that otherwise rebounds to our honor.

     The atrocious crime was perpetrated in the winter of 1885. Eugene Sherwood, a young man about twenty years old, lived with his widowed mother on the Medicine Creek, eight miles east of Stockville. Joining them was an old Swede, a bachelor, Jonas (34) Nelson by name, who had been committing some depredations such as burning haystacks etc.--a man of generaly bad repute.

     Some trouble arose between Sherwood and Nelson over a boundary line. Nothing serious was thought of the affair by young Sherwood. But Nelson bought a gun and pistol, then concealed himself behind a tree; and as Sherwood was driving his cows home, he came within a few feet of the tree. Nelson shot him dead. Eugene Sherwood was found soon afterward by a woodchopper who happened to be passing along.

     I was sheriff at the time; and being notified, I found Sherwood where he had fallen There being no coroner in the county, I impaneled a jury and upon investigation the verdict was that "Eugene Sherwood came to his death by a shotgun wound in the hands of Jonas Nelson."

     I found him at a cattle ranch a few miles away and took him into custody. He was arraigned before Judge W. H. Allen and bound over to court.

     I started to take him to jail in North Platte, as we have had so little use for a jail in this county we have not as yet built one. It was very cold and the snow deep; we did not get along fast. When night came on, we stopped at a cattle ranch. There being no one at the ranch, we went in and made ourselves at home, got supper. Dave Love was with me to help guard the prisoner. 

     At about ten o'clock there was a rush on us of masked men who took Nelson out in the night, back through the drifting snow. As we could do nothing we waited until morning, then followed their trail to the woods, and there, from a limb of the tree from which Sherwood was killed, hung Nelson.

     I held an inquest and the verdict was that Nelson came to his death by unknown parties. Thus ended the career of the first murderer in Frontier County. Nelson was buried under the tree he had desecrated.

     A tenderfoot who came into Frontier said, "I would like to live in this county but I miss society, churches, hotels, etc." He said that he could not do without milk and butter.

     One of the boys said, "We can get all the butter you want."

     He said, " Where?"

     Cowboy said, "We will all take turns milking, strap the churn (35) to the saddle and go until we find a herd of buffalo, elk, deer or antelope, pick out a good milker, and milk them while on the run, from horseback. When through, the jumping of the horse will churn all the butter out of the milk."

     Tenderfoot said, "That beats the way they milked back in York State."

     Judge Gaslin presided at the first term of district court in this county. He sent Sheriff Miles out to call in Henry Dagering and tell him if he did not come into court he would be a defaulter. The sheriff, not knowing the court lingo, went out and said:

     "You, Dagering, come right into court, or you will be defrauded,"

     The Judge said, "No, no, sheriff. Say a defaulter. Now, sheriff, call Euphemia Dagering."

     The sheriff again went and called: 'You female Dagering, come into court or you will be defrauded."

     The judge said, "The country is new and you will learn in time."

     Miles Gilland opened up the first eating house and it was the only place "chuck" was to be had during court week. All the dude lawyers rushed in to get first seats. The Western sheriff not being accustomed to such impoliteness, pulled a six-shooter and told them to step back and give white folks a chance to eat; and they did, too.

     In the early days of Frontier County, the people politically were like the fellow who got lost; he knew no north, no south, east or west. We knew no party lines and in our elections the contest was between men, not parties.

     In a convention at Stockville, in the year of 1881, the fight was on sheriff, between J. A. Lynch and W. H. Miles. As the political strength of the candidates was balancing in the minds of the people, Mr. Shelley, one of Lynch's men, went down to Calahan's for a drink. While he was gone the balance tilted in favor of Miles, who received the nomination and was elected.

     In the spring of 1883 this county met with a loss that is impossible to repair. That was the early records, which, as historical relics, were valuable souvenirs of the county--besides the actual financial loss by the burning of the court-house. A larger and more commodious county capitol was soon built and resupplied with new (36) record books and furniture in keeping with the development of our adopted county.

     Party lines were not drawn in our county government until 1885, thirteen years after our organization. Then the Republican and Farmers' parties set forth their principles in conventions and nominated their candidates. The Republicans, being in the majority, elected W. H. Allen for judge; John Sanders, treasurer; Geo. Kelly, clerk; and E. W. Franklin, sheriff. Since then the Democratic, Independent and Republican parties have been represented in the offices of the county, showing that our people will support principles and men more than party.

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