CHAPTER VII
ORISTOWN, THE "LITTLE CROW" RESERVATION
When I left St. Louis on the night of October fourth I headed forOristown to buy someone's relinquishment. I had two thousand, fivehundred dollars. From Omaha the journey was made on the C. & R.W.'s onetrain a day that during these times was loaded from end to end, witheverybody discussing the Little Crow and the buying of relinquishments.I was the only negro on the train and an object of many inquiries as towhere I was going. Some of those whom I told that I was going to buy arelinquishment seemingly regarded it as a joke, judging from the meaningglances cast at those nearest them.
An incident occurred when I arrived at Oristown which is yet considereda good joke on a real estate man then located there, by the name ofKeeler, who was also the United States Commissioner. He could not onlysell me a relinquishment, but could also take my filing. I had a talkwith Keeler, but as he did not encourage me in my plan to make apurchase I went to another firm, a young lawyer and a fellow by the nameof Slater, who ran a livery barn, around the corner. Watkins, thelawyer, impressed me as having more ambition than practical businessqualities. However, Slater took the matter up and agreed to take me overthe reservation and show me some good claims. If I bought, the drive wasgratis, if not four dollars per day, and I accepted his proposition.
After we had driven a few miles he told me Keeler had said to him thathe was a fool to waste his time hauling a d---- nigger around over thereservation; that I didn't have any money and was just "stalling." Iflushed angrily, and said "Show me what I want and I will produce themoney. What I want is something near the west end of the county. You saythe relinquishments are cheaper there and the soil is richer. I don'twant big hills or rocks nor anything I can't farm, but I want a nicelevel or gently rolling quarter section of prairie near some town to be,that has prospects of getting the railroad when it is extended west fromOristown." By this time we had covered the three miles between Oristownand the reservation line, and had entered the newly opened section whichstretched for thirty miles to the west. As we drove on I becameattracted by the long grass, now dead, which was of a brownish hue andas I gazed over the miles of it lying like a mighty carpet I could seemto feel the magnitude of the development and industry that would someday replace this state of wildness. To the Northeast the Missouri Riverwound its way, into which empties the Whetstone Creek, the breaks ofwhich resembled miniature mountains, falling abruptly, then rising to apoint where the dark shale sides glistened in the sunlight. It was mylongest drive in a buggy. We could go for perhaps three or four miles ona table-like plateau, then drop suddenly into small canyon-like ditchesand rise abruptly to the other side. After driving about fifteen mileswe came to the town, as they called it, but I would have said village ofHedrick--a collection of frame shacks with one or two houses, manyroughly constructed sod buildings, the long brown grass hanging frombetween the sod, giving it a frizzled appearance. Here we listened to afew boosters and mountebanks whose rustic eloquence was no doubtintended to give the unwary the impression that they were on the site ofthe coming metropolis of the west. A county-seat battle was to be foughtthe next month and the few citizens of the sixty days declared theywould wrest it from Fairview, the present county seat situated in theextreme east end of the county, if it cost them a million dollars, orone-half of all they were worth. They boasted of Hedrick's prospects,sweeping their arms around in eloquent gestures in alluding to theterritory tributary to the town, as though half the universe wereHedrick territory.
Nine miles northwest, where the land was very sandy and full of pits,into which the buggy wheels dropped with a grinding sound, and wheremagnesia rock cropped out of the soil, was another budding town by thename of Kirk. The few prospective citizens of this burg were not soenthusiastic as those in Hedrick and when I asked one why they locatedthe town in such a sandy country he opened up with a snort about somepinheaded engineer for the "guvment" who didn't know enough to jumpstraight up "a locating the town in such an all fired sandy place"; buthe concluded with a compliment, that plenty of good water could be foundat from fifteen to fifty feet.
This sandy land continued some three miles west and we often foundsprings along the streams. After ascending an unusually steep hill, wecame upon a plateau where the grass, the soil, and the lay of the land,were entirely different from any we had as yet seen. I was struck by thebeauty of the scenery and it seemed to charm and bring me out of thespirit of depression the sandy stretch brought upon me. Stretching formiles to the northwest and to the south, the land would rise in a gentleslope to a hog back, and as gently slope away to a draw, which drainedto the south. Here the small streams emptied into a larger one, windingalong like a snake's track, and thickly wooded with a growth of smallhardwood timber. It was beautiful. From each side the land rose gentlylike huge wings, and spread away as far as the eye could reach. Thedriver brought me back to earth, after a mile of such fascinatingobservations, and pointing to the north, said: "There lays one of theclaims." I was carried away by the first sight of it. The land appearedto slope from a point, or table, and to the north of that was a smalldraw, with water. We rode along the south side and on coming upon aslight raise, which he informed me was the highest part of the place, wefound a square white stone set equally distant from four small holes,four or five feet apart. On one side of the stone was inscribed a row ofletters which ran like this, SWC, SWQ, Sec. 29-97-72 W. 5th P.M., and onthe other sides were some other letters similar to these. "What does allthat mean?" I asked. He said the letters were initials describing theland and reading from the side next to the place we had come to see it,read: "The southwest corner of the southwest quarter of sectiontwenty-nine, township ninety-seven, and range seventy-two, west of thefifth principal meridian."
When we got back to Oristown I concluded I wanted the place and dreamedof it that night. It had been drawn by a girl who lived with her parentsacross the Missouri. To see her, we had to drive to their home, and herea disagreement arose, which for a time threatened to cause a split. Ihad been so enthusiastic over the place, that Slater figured on ahandsome commission, but I had been making inquiries in Oristown, andfound I could buy relinquishments much cheaper than I had anticipated. Ihad expected the price to be about one thousand, eight hundred dollarsand came prepared to pay that much, but was advised to pay not over fivehundred dollars for land as far west as the town of Megory, which wasonly four miles northwest of the place I was now dickering to buy. Wehad agreed to give the girl three hundred and seventy-five dollars, andI had partly agreed to give Slater two hundred dollars commission.However, I decided this was too much, and told him I would give him onlyseventy-five dollars. He was in for going right back to Oristown andcalling the deal off, but when he figured up that two and a half day'sdriving would amount to only ten dollars, he offered to take one hundreddollars. But I was obstinate and held out for seventy-five dollars,finally giving him eighty dollars, and in due time became the proudowner of a Little Crow homestead.
All this time I had been writing to Jessie. I had written first while Iwas in Eaton, and she had answered in the same demure manner in whichshe had received me at our first meeting, and had continued answeringthe letters I had written from all parts of the continent, in much thesame way. For a time I had quit writing, for I felt that she was reallytoo young and not taking me seriously enough, but after a month, mysister wrote me, asking why I did not write to Jessie; that she askedabout me every day. This inspired me with a new interest and I beganwriting again.
I wrote her in glowing terms all about my advent in Dakota, and as shewas of a reserved disposition, I always asked her opinion as to whethershe thought it a sensible move. I wanted to hear her say something morethan: "I was at a cantata last evening and had a nice time", and so on.Furthermore, I was skeptical. I knew that a great many colored peopleconsidered farming a deprivation of all things essential to a good time.In fact, to have a good time, was the first thing to be considered, andeverything else was secondary. Jessie, however, was
not of this kind.She wrote me a letter that surprised me, stating, among other things,that she was seventeen and in her senior year high school. That shethought I was grand and noble, as well as practical, and was sorry shecouldn't find words to tell me all she felt, but that which satisfied mesuited her also. I was delighted with her answer and wrote a cheerfulletter in return, saying I would come to see her, Christmas.