THE WORD OF THE NIGHT OWL

March 3, 1973

Dear Great-Grandma Griswold,

I hope that this letter finds you all right. Everyone here is just fine, although father has been battling a bit of a cold. I miss you.

I wanted to write to you to see if you could help me with a school project. My teacher has assigned each of us in the class the task of writing an essay about a historical topic. I have decided to write about what life on the prairie might have been like for the settlers that came west. When I mentioned the subject to mother, she indicated that you had come to the West in a covered wagon in the late 1880s and that your family settled in rural Kansas. I wondered if you could write me back about some of your experiences as a little girl so that I could include them in my report. I would appreciate it if you would consider doing this for me. The project is due before the end of the school year, so we have some time. I have so many questions….”

I would ask you in person, but because we live about eight hours away from you, I cannot. Please feel free to say no to my request if you would prefer to.

Love you,

Jimmie

April 1, 1881 – Saline County, Kansas

Little Mary Elizabeth peeked out over the edge of the buckboard as it bounced along the Kansas road, churning a trail of dust behind it. The hot prairie wind blew into her face, made her eyes water, and she turned away to keep the scent of freshly plowed dirt from filling her nostrils. Carefully, she tried to reposition herself in between the sacks of flour and meal they had just purchased, but she couldn’t find a way that cushioned the hard ride. She raised her head to see her Papa, sitting in the seat above her, guiding the horses just as the wagon skipped over a bump in the road. Everything jumped a few inches and she landed with a hard thud and a cough.

Sister Emma sat up next to Papa, and glancing back at her little sister, frowned disapprovingly.

“Mind yourself.” Emma barked. She was always giving orders.

Papa glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He tugged the reins of the horses a bit and they slowed to a gentle trot.

“Mary Elizabeth. You sit yourself back down. Momma will have our hides if you fall and bust one of them bags of flour or meal. Just be good for a bit longer, and I will give you some candy I’ve got in my pocket.”

Emma frowned. “Papa, why are you always doing that? Bribing her to be good. If it were up to me, I’d tan her backside to get her to mind. That’s what you used to do to me.”

Papa gave her a sideways glance. “I never tanned your hide for nothing.”

“What about the time I took that handful of caramels from Mr. Wilkerson’s store?” Emma chided.

“That was different. You deserved the switch then, the count of it was stealing. Little Mary’s done nothing wrong, she’s just stretching her legs, peeking over the side of the buckboard is all. You tend to yourself and leave her be.”

“Mamma says you keep spoiling her and there be hell to pay,” Emma said.

“I suppose.” Papa nodded, laughing. “Count of your mother knows everything.”

Papa turned the horses onto the road of the farm, through a narrow gate, and up toward the sod house. A fence of barbed wire stretched into the distance, and a crudely built sign hung over the nearest post – a large letter G with a curved line under it, otherwise known as the “Rocking G.” Mary noticed one side of it dangling down at an angle. The ‘Rocking G’ Ranch was Papa’s dream and he had been determined to see his 160 acres flourish more and more each passing season.

But dreams mean nothing if you don’t work hard to keep them alive. Papa said that a lot.

The tiny sod house stood about one hundred yards away, built into the rise of a small hill. It was nothing special, had a wooden front and sides, but dirt floors. The roof was a patchwork of Kansas thatch laid down over some crude wooden rafters. At one end of the cabin, Papa had built a nice fireplace, constructed the whole thing with the limestone and granite that littered the fields around the home. Two undersized beds, each with an overstuffed mattress, sat in the corners. The remainder of the interior consisted of a wooden dining table and chairs the land assessor had given them, and a wooden rocker her mother had insisted on bringing with them from Virginia. It was no Victorian castle, but somehow the Griswold family made it work.

Just a bit from the cabin, a small creek ran through the front forty acres, and it supplied their water until her Papa and a couple of neighbors had dug a well. About thirty yards away, there was a corral for the livestock, which consisted of two workhorses and a milking cow. As the wagon stopped in front of the house, Mary noticed the structure Papa had been working on; a small barn, where livestock could sleep. Right now, Bessie, the cow was tethered to part of the sod hut, taking shelter under a makeshift lean-to. Emma and Mary took turns milking her every morning.

Her mother, Anna Griswold met them at the door.

“You’re back.” She smiled. “What wonderful treasures did you bring us from town?”

“Supplies,” Emma announced popping up before Mary could think of what to say. “Daddy bought the flour and cornmeal and coffee just as you asked. But I think he also bought a couple of cans of peaches. Said he was going to surprise you.”

“He did, did he?”

Mary reached down to get one out of the sack to show. “Right here, mama.”

Anna smiled. “Okay girls. You help get some of these things into the cabin and then we will start dinner. I imagine from all that riding you all are famished. You go on, now.”

Papa helped Mary Elizabeth down from the back of the wagon, handed her candy, and sent her into the house. He was about to pick up a sack of beans when his wife touched him on the sleeve. Her face was serious.

“Josiah.” She began. “Dr. Milner was by. Says that he was heading out to check on the Lowry clan. Thinks that they got cholera really bad, and he wanted us to know.”

Josiah shook his head at hearing the news. “Miller, too? What about the baby?”

‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.” She said, “He just said they were sick is all.”

She watched her husband lift a sack of beans to carry in the house.

“But he also said that there were some hostiles that have been seen around these parts. A scouting party of five or six. And that he wanted us to know. Told me to keep a close eye on the girls.”

“I’d better head over to the see about the Lowry bunch,” Josiah spoke, as he set the sack in its place. “See, if they need anything.”

“Josiah, you can’t! What are we supposed to do if you bring cholera back?” His wife implored.

“I’ll be careful. But Anna, I need to. Remember how Miller Lowry came and chopped wood, milked the cow, and then went and got us supplies last winter when we were all down with the croup? Without that help, we would never have made it. I gotta return the favor. It’s the right thing to do. Let me unload these things and then I will head over. And Doc’s right, you need to keep a close eye on the girls, stay locked in the cabin until I get back.”

Several hours later, Josiah Griswold walked backed into the cabin. In the pale light of the fireplace, he looked over at his wife and just shook his head. “It’s bad” was all he said.

The next day, the fever started, and Josiah became violently sick. Just before supper, he decided to separate himself from the cabin and sleep in the part of the barn that was finished. He told his wife and children that he wanted to keep the sickness away from the rest of the family in case it got worse.

At supper, Anna held a plate of biscuits and beans in her hands, covered with a clean cloth. “Come on, girls. I want you to go say hello to your father. Might cheer him to see you.”

As they walked toward the opening of the barn, she made them stay outside the entrance and warned them sternly to keep their distance, so as not to catch anything. Mary Elizabeth could barely see the shadow of her father as she peered inside, but she saw his form stir slightly. Coughing. Weak with exhaustion from the illness. He accepted the plate from his wife. “Thank you. I’ll eat later.” His voice was hoarse, lower than usual.

Josiah noticed the girls, standing at the edge of the doorway. “Hello, my angels.” He whispered. “Don’t you worry about me. I will be back on my feet in no time. You just need to mind your mother, you hear? Be a big help to her, all right?” They both nodded and as they turned to walk back to the cabin, the sound of hoof beats came over the field. Anna Griswold walked a few feet to peer around the side of the barn, just in time to see five or six riders crossing the creek and riding up toward the front of the house. She walked abruptly back to the entrance of the barn.

“What is it?” Josiah asked weakly, trying to stand.

“The Scouting Party, I suspect.” She turned toward the house. “You stay quiet, and for goodness’ sake, stay put.”

Then, in a quick motion, Anna reached out, grabbed her girls, and cradled them close to her under each arm. Carefully, the three of them made their way up toward the tiny cabin to stand in front of horses. The Indians did not dismount. One of them wore a soldier’s hat and rode a white pony. He leaned forward in the saddle and tipped his cap toward Anna, who was shielding her children behind her. The other riders kept silent.

“Good evening.” Anna Griswold said nervously. “I am Mrs. Josiah Griswold, and these are my daughters Emma and Mary Elizabeth.”

“Hello.” Soldier Hat spoke, tilting his head to get a better view of the children. “We wish to water our horses in your creek before moving on. Would you spare some water for us?”

Anna was surprised. “You speak English. What kind of Indian are you?”

Soldier Hat looked down, smiling. “Yes. I was taught English while serving as a scout for Major Campbell at Fort Hays. We are Pawnee. We hunt the buffalo.”

One of the other Indians said something and Soldier Hat nodded. “Where is your man?”

“He’s taken ill. The Black Death.” Anna hesitated. “He is in the barn, sick with fever.”

One of the Indians with a painted face dismounted and began to walk over to the barn. This action upset Anna, and she was torn as to whether to rush to her husband’s aid or protect her daughters. Soldier Hat saw her anguish and held up his hand. “It's okay,” he said.

Anna begged. “Please. We want no trouble. We do not quarrel with you. You are welcome to water and feed your horses.”

“I thank you for your offer. As I said, we only wish to rest for a short time. We can camp on the other side of the creek near the large tree, and we will be gone before the sun rises.”

The painted Indian slipped the knife out of his belt and gingerly, carefully stepped through the entrance. Anna gasped at the sight.

Everyone watched as he quietly disappeared. After a few moments, he emerged, and returned to the group of horses, speaking something to the Soldier Hat.

“Racing Wind says that you must be careful these next three days. Death fills the night, but if you are strong and full of courage the cloud of darkness may still pass over you. He says that the Night Owl has spoken this.”

Anna Griswold clutched her children even tighter. “Is he saying that Josiah will die?”

“It has not been said, yet.” Soldier Hat shifted in the saddle. “You must wait. This is all the Owl has told him.”

“I have called for the doctor, but I do not know when he is coming.”

Soldier Hat nodded. “This disease is beyond any medicine.”

“Is there anything that can be done?”

“My brother says that you should burn everything in the house. Anything the dying have touched since the sickness began. Only by destroying what you have will you have any chance of living. These are also the words of the Owl.”

“I don’t understand. Burn all our belongings?”

Soldier Hat nodded. “The darkness is strong in this place, do these things and you may yet live.”

Anna nodded.

“We will water our horses, cook a meal and move on. Thank you for your kindness.” Then the group turned, rode their horses to the opposite side of the creek, and made camp underneath a large cottonwood tree. As they made a fire, the painted-faced Indian kneeled and chanted to the spirits.

Safe inside the cabin, Anna Griswold turned to the girls. “I want you both to go to sleep. Get ready for bed and say your prayers. Pray for your papa, pray for all of us.” Then she took her husband's rifle down from over the fireplace, laid out some extra ammunition on the table, and set the rocker between the door of the cabin and the girls. There, she stayed, long after the girls had fallen asleep.

Mary Elizabeth was the first to awaken. Carefully, she went over to where her mother was sleeping in the rocking chair and touched her. Anna Griswold awakened with a start. She patted Mary Elizabeth on the head, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and walked to the door of the cabin. Carefully, she opened it and poked her head outside. The Indians were gone. She exhaled a big sigh of relief and sat the rifle down.

“Mary Elizabeth, you stay put, you understand? I need to check on your Papa.”

The little girl nodded, as she watched her mother head to the barn. After what seemed an eternity, Anna Griswold came back, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Come on, little one. Let’s fix your Papa some broth to eat.”

After breakfast, Anna Griswold stripped the beds, removed her dress, and changed the clothes of the girls. She took the clothing out of the house and walked out into the middle of a newly plowed field. She doused the bedding with some lantern oil and struck a match. As she watched the fire become larger and larger, consuming everything, she fell to her knees and cried and prayed. The fire burned all day, the smoke rising into the clear Kansas sky. Little by little, Anna found things to add to it.

For the next two days, her routine never varied. Cooking, cleaning, keeping the chores up, and burning almost everything, even the clothes Josiah had been wearing.

On the third day, a black horse and carriage pulled up to the front of the cabin. Anna Griswold went out to greet Dr. Milner.

“I heard Josiah had taken ill.” He spoke. “Thought I should come by to check on him.”

Anna spoke. “He is in the barn. Was resting when I checked on him about an hour ago. I can’t tell if he is getting better or not.”

Dr. Milner walked over with her as they entered the barn.

“I saw the smoke when I was coming up.” The doctor said. “Was afraid that the hostiles had burned your place to the ground.”

“No, that was me,” Anna said, pointing to the charred remains in the middle of the field. “I was burning anything that Josiah might have come in contact with before he got ill.”

“Who told you to do that?” The doctor nodded his head. “I don’t remember telling you to do anything of the sort.”

“The Pawnee were by the other night. One of them said that the Night Owl instructed him to tell us to do it.”

Dr. Milner laughed. “Well, that is right. Guess it’s nice to know that the Owl knows as much modern medicine as we do. You all stay here, and I will go check on him.” Then, he slipped into the shadows.

Anna and the girls waited at the door of the barn for the doctor to return. A bit later, as he poked his head out of the door, he smiled. “I think that the fever has passed. He has been dehydrated and says you have been filling him with broths and teas. That’s good. I suspect if you give him a day or two, he will be back on his feet, but I want him to take it easy for a week or so, just to be able to get his strength back. And by the way, I spotted the old owl up in the rafters, looks like he was your father’s good omen.”

That evening, Papa joined them for supper. Just as the Doctor said, he was back to full strength about a week later. The girls told him about the Indians who had come by, and Josiah smiled. “You know, I dreamed about that Owl.” He spoke. “I am so glad I didn’t try to shoo it out of the barn the other day.”

March 15, 1973

Dear Jimmie,

I was so pleased to receive your letter and take a few moments to answer your questions. One of the questions you asked is what kind of animals I encountered on the prairie. Well, I never came across a rattlesnake, although my father shot one while plowing the north forty. It was a big one, almost six feet, from what I understand. There were some deer that we saw down by the creek and of course, rabbits, grouse hens, (which is called a prairie chicken), and a pheasant or two. There is one animal that I remember well, it was an old barn owl. I am convinced that it played a part in saving my father’s life. I have included that story here. I hope you can make sense of it. As you can see, my handwriting is not as steady as it once was.

I hope that you do well on your essay and that the questions I have answered are enough to help you get a good grade. You are smart (like your mother and father). I expect that there is a big future ahead for you. And while I might not be alive to see what becomes of you (After all, I am 95) I know that you come from a long legacy of hard workers. Our family has always tried to do what was right, no matter how hard the task might be. My father was willing to work hard for his dream of a better life, and that same spirit is in you. In all of us.

I am going to stop now. I will have some sugar cookies ready for you when your family comes to visit. I am so looking forward to seeing you again. Perhaps we can walk out to the barn to see if the old owl is still in the rafters. I thought I heard him “hoot’ the other day.

Love,

Great-Grandma Griswold (aka Mary Elizabeth)