YORK COUNTY NEBRASKA
OLD SETTLER'S HISTORY

     (34) That the early settlers of York County were never molested by the Indian is generally believed. The fear and apprehension which was constantly in the minds of the pioneers added to the loneliness and privation which truly called for brave hearts and strong courage, may not be well understood.

     The following experience may serve to show the cost of pioneer courage as found in one noble woman and is written as a loving tribute to one of the best of mothers.

     In January, 1867, James Waddle leased what is know as the Jack Stone Ranch one of the landmarks of York County's early history. He left a man on the ranch to put in a crop and returned to Wisconsin for his family, wife and seven children. In June of the same year the family

Mrs. Jennie Stephens

 (35) came to this temporary home. The husband and part of he family spent the time establishing the permanent home on the Blue River in Hamilton county. It was when the family was thus separated that the following incident occurred.

     One July morning the mother and her little group were aroused by two horsemen who sought from her, food and rest and brought to her tidings that on the previous day the Sioux Indians had raided the first settlement to the west. Had taken the stock of farmers, killed two boys and carried two young women into captivity.

     The men hastened on to carry the news to the capital at Lincoln.

     The mother faced this problem. If the Indians followed the trail or freight road she with her children was in their path. If instead they followed the stream or West Blue the other members of her family were in danger.

     The horsemen advised her to start at once for civilization, because they thought the Sioux would spare no one in this region. She had a team of horses and a pony.

     Could she leave without knowing the fate of her loved ones? What she decided after an hour of careful thought was at eleven o'clock she placed her oldest son, a lad of fifteen years, on the pony with the charge that he should go to the father. The boy had been over the trip but once, no road to follow, nothing but the hot July sun to guide his path from without and the boyish prompting of great danger from within. With an overwhelming desire to do well his part he rode over the wide stretch of prairie.

     The agreement was that he should ride to the family home and return by noon the following day. If he did not return, the mother with the remnant of her flock would start toward the eastward to seek a spot where people could live."

     The long vigil of that night is the silent climax of this tale. It is better imagined than described. With the team horses and wagon drawn close to the window and the faithful watch dog brought from the Wisconsin home, her (36) only protector, crouched under the window, she sat by the bedside of her children, in her arms the writer of this sketch, a babe of four weeks.

     The first hours of darkness brought a heavy electric storm. I have heard my mother say "that nature expressed and calmed the anguish of her heart as she looked into the face of her first-born, a girl just budding into womanhood, and thought could she see her carried away by a band of Indians or rather could she see her life go out in innocence and purity?"

     As the storm ceased the little group was aroused by sound of alarm which frightened the horses, the watch dog barked and growled. One of the children exclaimed, "Oh, there are Bob and father!" In the sweet Scotch accent always noticed in time of great earnestness the mother answered, '`No children, that's no' Bob neither is it your father."

     The alarm increased when with one great bound the watch dog leaped through the screened window into the midst of the waiting group crouched at my mother's feet. The sound without was the mingling of a growl and a sharp shrill whistle. It became fainter and at last died away, the little group thinking kind providence had caused the Red man to pass them by.

     The cause of this alarm was not, however, the fierce Red Skin, but proved to be a wandering wild animal of the mountain lion family and so far as we know the only one of its kind that has ever been seen in this country. It killed stock in the settlement and was shot beyond Beaver Crossing the following day. The night watch wore away and with the new day came fresh courage to face life's duties. The mid day sun brought the boy on the pony, the father and the absent members of the family, for the Indian raiders had followed the stream farther to the south.

     In the passing years this experience has been rehearsed with many a laugh and joke as to how we met the Indian raids. Yet this experience with its happy ending bears (37) evidence of something of the cost of making this "Our Fair Nebraska."

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