She was then visiting her parents at St. Louis, with our baby daughter
whom we had named Arta.
I was at Ellsworth to meet her when she arrived, bringing the baby.
Besides three or four wagons, in which the supplies for the new general
store and furniture for the little house I had built were loaded, I had
a carriage for her and the baby. The new town of Rome was a hundred
miles west. I knew that it would be a dangerous trip, as the Indians
had long been troublesome along the railroad, and I realized the danger
more fully because of the presence of my wife and little daughter.
A number of immigrants bound for the new town accompanied us.
The first night out I formed the men into a company, one squad to stand
watch while the others slept. All the early part of the evening I went
the rounds of the camp, much to my wife's annoyance.
"Why are you away so much?" she kept asking. "It is lonesome here, and
I need you."
Rather than let her know of my uneasiness about the Indians, I told her
I was trying to sell lots to the men while they were en route. As the
night wore on and everything seemed quiet I prepared to get a little
rest. I did not take my clothes off, and, much to my wife's surprise,
slept with my rifle and revolvers close by me. I had just dropped off
to sleep when I heard shots, and knew they could mean nothing but
Indians.
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