Anne Cook & Twisted Souls

I’m never too far away from the thing that breaks my heart.  In my day to day job I come across items that trigger the deep hurt I thought was dammed up for a few hours at least.  One of the chapters I’m working on for a new book loosed a flood of emotions yesterday.  Anne Cook was a homesteader in Lincoln County, Nebraska in the late 1800s and early 1900s.  She was also a prostitute, bootlegger, embezzler and murderer.  She was truly a disturbed character obsessed with amassing a fortune.  She abused her children, particularly her adoptive son.  When a mob boss moved into Lincoln County threating to claim a portion of the bootlegging and prostitution market for himself, Anne’s reaction was one of outrage.  She quickly put into play an evil plan she had for getting rid of her competition.  The plan involved her adoptive son.  The nine year old boy was to volunteer his services to the mobster (make money runs for the man, deliver a gun or two) for a couple of days and then report back home.  At that time Anne would take the boy to the sheriff’s department where he would lie and tell law enforcement that the man he was helping out molested him.  Anne promised the fellow outlaw that she would make the boy testify to the act in court.  Realizing he would never be able to escape the backlash from such a claim the bad guy left town.  All the guns and muscle the outlaw had wouldn’t stand a chance against such a hideous allegation.  I marvel at the power that false allegation has and believe with all I am it is more powerful than any man-made weapon.  The mind that decides to tell this kind of lie is particularly twisted and devious.  John Steinbeck once wrote “I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents. . . . The face and body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or a malformed egg can produce physical monsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul?”  If after all the years of fighting against such a soul ends in victory for her I don’t think I’ll be able to go on.  When my brother goes so will I.  There’s no way to live here if the heart of the innocent can be so easily snuffed out and such horror is applauded. 

 

H2O & the Frontier

It’s known as the old wooden bucket delusion. Pioneers believed the best tasting water came from old wooden buckets. If they had lived as long as they thought they would sipping the swill contained in those wooden buckets they would have been outraged to learn that people are now paying $2 and $3 for bottled water. The stone well and wooden bucket are romantic symbols of country life of the 1860s, evoking nostalgia for the purity of spring water and derisive snorts at the chemical “manipulation” of modern tap water. However, our confidence in nature’s ability to purify should be balanced by an appreciation of man’s ability to pollute. The well water was indeed clean in the beginning, but settlers inadvertently contaminated it. For practical purposes the well was dug close to the farmhouse, which itself was close to the barnyard, stable, pigsty, coop and cesspool. With not even a pretense of drainage, the well exposed to all sorts of noxious matter seeping through the ground. Slush from the kitchen, festering matter from privies, and seepage from animal wastes posed a growing danger to the water supply and filled the air with vile odor. A number of health experts warned that much of the sickness and unexplained “misery” of the pioneers could be traced to polluted wells, but they were ignored – even by some physicians. “I knew a doctor,” said Oregon farmer M.T. Eales, “who had a cow-barn, a privy and a well all within one hundred feet of his kitchen.” I couldn’t help but think about that while visiting the Old West town of Berlin. The home on this journal page had a barn, privy and a well in close proximity to one another. There were rain barrels around the property too, but contrary to poplar belief, that wasn’t as good for you as one might think. While not exposed to seepage contamination, it developed its own peculiar infestation from dust and flies. I never would have made it as a pioneer. I at least like the illusion of getting a drink of water that isn’t teaming with bacteria. I don’t think I’d be able to pull that off with a horse drinking from the same container. Guess my love of the Old West only goes so far.

Thunder & Walter Hill

One of the movie posters hanging in my living room is from the western the Long Riders. It has always been one of my favorite westerns. The directing and writing is brilliant and that’s due to Walter Hill. Hill is exceptional at his craft and he knows the west. Hill was born in Long Beach, California and educated at Mexico City College and Michigan State University. He worked in oil drilling and construction in the 60s before becoming a 2nd assistant director in 1967. He has written and co-written screenplays, including several uncredited works. He has produced and directed films since 1975. He once said in an interview that he considers all of his films as a director westerns. If you look closely, you can see western touches, such as revolvers, Winchester rifles and cowboy hats in all of his work. He’s an avid fan of John Wayne. When The Duke saw Hill’s Hard Times (1975), he wanted Hill to helm his last film, The Shootist (1976). But Hill refused because he didn’t want to see his hero dying in a movie. Why all this talk about Walter Hill? Because after two long years of meeting and negotiating all was settle yesterday for Mr. Hill to write and direct the film version of the book Howard Kazanjian and I wrote entitled Thunder Over the Prairie. I’m so very thankful and am looking forward to seeing the book brought to the big screen. I’m happy for Dodge City too. My prayer is that this project will be a huge success and bring thousands and thousands of tourist to the area. Dodge City is rich with history but nothing compares to the people who live there. They are warm and kind (one in particular made my visit memorable) and generous. Thunder Over the Prairie is the story of the most intrepid posse of the Old West. It’s about the murder of Dora Hand and the men that track the murderer down. It’s about the search for justice. Read the book, watch a Walter Hill film, (I suggest Geronimo, Wild Bill, or Broken Trail) visit Dodge City, Kansas and get ready to see a western that just might become a classic.

 

 

 

Prisoners & Vengeance

I am filled with thoughts about my brother Rick today. In federal prison for a something he did not do, he suffers from Parkinson’s Disease, his eye-sight is failing, and he still has no teeth from when he was beaten several years ago. I know that retribution is sure for his ex-wife and her daughter who caused such devastation. I pray in the near future the courts will deal harshly with them. I can’t be preoccupied with that however because the Lord tells me that vengeance is His. I am two people it seems. One who wants the bad guys to suffer horribly and the other who longs to keep my focus on the only thing that matters, Jesus Christ. I know I’m not the only one who wrestles with such things. I gain strength from the stories of others who have fought this battle. Men like Vice Admiral James Bond Stockdale. Stockdale was a prisoner of war for seven and one-half years during the Vietnam war, four of them in solitary confinement. Despite repeated torture, he maintained secret communication with other American POWs and was a leader in setting the policy and standards for the prisoner’s resistance to their captors. Stockdale was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor in 1976 and was a candidate for Vice President of the United States in 1992. At all time Stockdale carried with him something he called the ‘field manual for soldiers.’ In it was a handwritten pages which read as follows: “The essence of good and evil lies in an attitude of the will. There are things which are within your power, and there are things which are beyond your power. Within your power are opinion, aim, desire, aversion; in a word, whatever affairs are your own. Beyond your power are body, property, reputation, office; in a word, affairs not properly your own. Concern yourself with what is within your power. The essence of good consists of things within you own power; with them there is no room for envy or emulation. For your part, do not desire to be a general, or a senator or a consul, but to be free; and the only way to do this is a disregard of things which do not lie within your own power.” If only I could be as eloquent.

Books & Wedding Dresses

When the new book about mail-order brides is released in October of this year, I’ll be ready to roll out the carpet on a new fashion line inspired by the stories in Object Matrimony. The fashion line entitled Prairie Rose Designs is a series of wedding dresses pattered after the early frontier days but with a modern twist to the overall look. Talented fashion designer Christian Goodwin has started the collection off with three romantic wedding dresses. A fashion show featuring the three gowns will be take place at the location of the launch of the Object Matrimony. The time and place of the event have yet to be determined. Photos of the dresses will be posted when the launch is officially announced. I don’t know much about fashion but the professionals I’m in business with do. All I really know about fashion is what I like. I like a lot of fashion! I’m not ashamed of my body, I just don’t see any reason to not cover it up as much as possible. I’m one of those people who think those garments the Amish women wear are a great idea for everyone, regardless of their religious affiliation. I’m someone who considered becoming a nun, for the outfits. I hope to make the official announcement this week that contracts between Walter Hill and Tricor Entertainment have been signed and all is set for the making of Thunder Over the Prairie. This project has been in the works for more than two years. I’m not good at waiting. It seems I’ve been waiting for one thing or another for more than nine years. Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worse kind of suffering.

The Role of Some Pioneer Women

 According to the lyrics in the Old West song entitled the Wagoneer’s Lad by Charles Neely, the life of a pioneer woman was something to be lamented.  Some of the lyrics were as follows:   “always controlled, they’re always confined.  Controlled by their family until they are wives, then slaves to their husbands the rest of their lives.”  Women played no public roles in the early life of pioneering (1846-1860) but remained in their domestic spaces.  I hate to admit it but the relative inequality of the sexes during the start of the rush west was the basis of patriarchy and masculine power beyond the Mississippi.  In all agricultural societies women were more or less excluded from the public world.  The overall status of women in agriculture was one of institutionalized dependency, subordination and political immaturity. 

     Farm women’s ills were exacerbated by the growth of the market, for under commercial pressures gender divisions were widened, men’s economic activity was further divorced from the household, and family economic unity shattered; for farm women there was, in consequence, a further devaluation of their already questionable status.  Lacking in public roles, women were dependent upon men, while men enjoyed considerable responsibility and latitude in their social relations.  The presence of children provided male privilege with a natural cover: women were viewed as inherently responsible for domestic society, while men were free to work or wander. 

     The majority of the people coming west in the mid-1840s were farmers from Missouri.  The average age of the pioneer wife was 20-22 and the average of the pioneer male was 34-44.  I know these statics might be boring for some but for those educators who visit the site hoping to find out information about the role of pioneer women it might serve as useful.  Happy teaching and if you get this far in reading this entry take a moment to watch the newest video posted on the introductory page of this site.  It’s the short tale of what one western woman did to change her circumstances.

Gould & Guilt

“No one respects the law…no one respects the courts…the courts don’t respect themselves.”  This sad verdict on justice was handed down by a journalist in the 1880s.  Things haven’t changed much since then.  It was widely believed in the Old West that men such as corrupt railroad mogul Jay Gould controlled the courts.  It was said of him that he could commit a murder without fear of arrest or conviction.  Gould’s actions were not unusual, large corporations tampered openly with the courts, paying off judges and juries alike and never feeling the slightest twinge of shame or guilt.  For men like Gould guilt was simply God’s way of letting them know they were having too good a time.  I unfortunately know too many people that think like Mr. Gould did.  People for whom in the elaborate wardrobe of human emotions, guilt is the itchy wool turtleneck that’s three sizes too small. Guilt is difficult to articulate.  For some guilt is the pledge drive constantly hammering in our heads that keeps us from fully enjoying the show.  Guilt is the reason they put the articles in Playboy.  Some experience guilt as the voice of their better natures, while for others, it’s the voice of an authority figure like a parent or a teacher.  There are some people so predisposed to guilt (and I believe I fall into that category) that when they’re born, the first thing that comes out of their mouth after being slapped by the doctor is “Harder! Harder!”  Women like Gould helped take my brother’s life.  They are murderers who walked across the street to have pizza once the job was done.  I don’t have to wonder if they will remember what they did when they pass by his gravesite at the cemetery.  They won’t.  Of course they won’t have to imagine what it will be like to be in paradise someday singing praises to the Most High.  They won’t be there to enjoy it any more than Gould is there now.  It’s hard to know how many lives Jay Gould ruin because he bought judges and juries in order to make a case go his way.  For a while he was the power behind the throne of justice.  As Collis P. Huntington (another Old West railroad boss) once said “if you pay money to have the right thing done, it is only just and fair to do it.”  If I had the kind of coin Gould possessed and I could purchase guilt, I would shower my brother’s accusers with so much guilt they’d drown in it.  For now I guess I’ll just have to look forward to the day they final understand what the word retribution mean.  As for Gould, he died of tuberculosis on December 2, 1892.  His fortune was conservatively estimated to be $72 million.  I’m sure all the money was made legitimately too.

Poison Runs Through It

A few of the stories I’ve been working on for the book entitled the Bedside Book of Bad Girls: Outlaw Women of the American Mid-west are a little rough. I spent the bulk of yesterday writing about Elizabeth Reed, the first woman to be hung in the state of Illinois. Her story is desperately sad and begins as follows: “The commotion coming from inside a dilapidated cabin in the heart of the forest near Lawrenceville, Illinois on the Embarras River in late December 1824 was loud enough to keep all manner of wildlife at bay. A clay pitcher shattered through a dirty window and the sound of two people arguing echoed over the ancient mass of pine and fir trees surrounding the crude dwelling. Elizabeth Fail, a painfully thin fifteen year old girl, flung the door of the cabin open and tried to exit. Her face was swollen and bruised and her lip was bleeding. She was halfway outside when she was jerked back into the cabin by an unshaven brute of a man with eyes inflamed by whisky. He knocked Elizabeth onto the floor and kicked her hard in the side. She struck a table filled with dishes, food and a kerosene lamp and they fell onto the floor as she struggled to crawl to a corner of the shabby one-room structure. The plates, cups and lamp broke into pieces when it hit the hard ground and the kerosene spilled out of the busted glass dome. The enraged man picked up a Barlow style knife protruding out of a hunk of cooked deer meat laying on the floor and advanced toward Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide with terror. She screamed as he carved the left side of her face with the knife. Blood gushed everywhere. In between stabbings Elizabeth punched him in the throat with all the strength she had. The out of control thug fell backwards and dropped the knife. His knees buckled and he gasped for air. Elizabeth quickly made her way to the stone fireplace and snatched up a long iron rod, the end of which had been lying in the fire and was flaming red hot. She held the piece of metal out in front of her, ready to strike the man should he get on his feet again and come after her. Elizabeth was a fountain of blood as she raced to the door. The injured man caught her leg before she exited and she hit him over the head with the poker. He let go of her and slowly sank into the floor. Elizabeth anxiously waited for him to come to but he was unconscious and motionless. She threw the poker down next to the table and the spilled kerosene. The heated end ignited the liquid and set the table on fire. Elizabeth turned and raced out of the cabin. Leaves from low hanging tree limbs smacked her arms and bleeding face as she ran away from the violent scene. A flash of light and the sound of roaring flames prompted her to stop and look back. The cabin was engulfed with fire. The man Elizabeth left behind staggered out of the door of the cabin, brutally burned. She watched in horror as he collapsed, still burning and died. Elizabeth “Betsey” Fail was born in Purgatory Swamp, Illinois in the fall of 1807. She was the youngest among seven children her parents Abraham and Sarah had and history records her life was difficult from the moment she entered the world. The Fails were poor farmers. The fertile land near the Wabash River where they lived was stubborn and could only be subdued with vigorous cultivation. Crops were often washed away by flood waters or overtaken by insects. Abraham struggled to keep his family clothed and fed. By the time Elizabeth turned nine her parents decided that anyone in the home unable to strenuously worked the fields as needed would have to go. A peddler traveling through Lawrence County in 1815 offered to take Elizabeth with him if the Fails were willing. Sarah agreed but demanded a cast-iron skillet and five pounds of lard in exchange for her daughter.” A cast-iron skillet and five pounds of lard – that’s all her life was worth to her mother. Elizabeth never got over her mother’s betrayal. Her story made me think about how much we are a product of our upbringing. I’m certainly not advocating we poison anyone as Elizabeth did because we weren’t treated kindly as a child but we do tend to view the world differently if we have parents who nurture and support us. None of the ten women I’ve written about in this book came from good homes. Family plays a big role in the way we think about situations. Based on the research I’ve done for this book, it would seem crazy can be passed down from generation to generation and cruelty can truly be a person’s legacy. There was a big hole in Elizabeth’s life left there by her mother and nothing she ever did could fill it. She died as she lived, wondering if she mattered. I feel your pain, Elizabeth.

The Many Loves of Buffalo Bill: The True Story of Life on the Wild West Show

 

Husband, Father, Scout and Actor

“My restless, roaming spirit would not allow me to remain at home very long.”

                                                         William Cody – 1904


In late February 1869, Louisa and her two-year-old daughter Arta were tucked safely inside her parent’s home in St. Louis, Missouri.  It was cold, and she stood over a fire blazing in a grate fireplace trying to get warm.  Her little girl was nearby playing on the floor with a doll.  Preoccupied with rereading a letter from William, Louisa paid little attention to the knock on the front door, nor did she look up from the letter when her mother answered it.  The sound of a familiar voice booming over Elizabeth Frederici’s cheerful welcome, prompted Louisa to set aside the correspondence.

Arta immediately recognized the burly figure that entered the room as her father’s.  She hurried to William, and he scooped her into his arms.  Louisa was less certain that the man was her husband.  There was a long moment of silence as she studied his face and rugged manner of dress.  The change in his appearance was so striking that she could only stare at him.  “Where the close cropped hair had been were long, flowing curls now,” she later wrote in her memoirs.  “A mustache weaved its way outward from his lower lip, while a small goatee showed black and spot-like on his chin.”  (1)

Louisa slowly approached William then cupped his chin in her hand.  He smiled back at her, and she hugged him around the neck, stroking his matted, unruly mane.  “What happened to your hair?” she asked, smoothing it down and pushing several strands behind his ear.  “This is how they wear it on the plains,” he replied unapologetically.  “If it were any shorter I couldn’t claim to be a scout.”  He went on to explain that any Native American who got the better of him would have quite a scalp on their hands. (2)

William pulled Louisa close to him and kissed her face.  They were happy to see one another, but she thought he looked thin and tired.  She promised to serve him a fine meal once he “made himself presentable.”  After playfully tossing his daughter in the air a few times and tickling her ribs, he reluctantly went to take a bath and change out of his buckskins into store-bought clothes.

William’s appearance was significantly less wild when he sat down to eat dinner that evening with his family.  It gave Louisa pleasure to see how well he liked her cooking.  The good food, congenial surroundings, his wife’s attentiveness, and the affection of his daughter were not enough to entice him to stay put for an extended period of time.

General Phil Sheridan, commander of the troops on the western front, needed William as a scout for the Fifth Cavalry.  The outfit was being transferred from Fort Lyon, Colorado, to Fort McPherson, Nebraska.  As soon as the passage way was made safe from assault by the Sioux, Cheyenne, Kiwas, and Arapahoe Indians, William promised to return for Louisa and Arta and take them with him to the Northern Plains.  The day he announced that he needed to be on his way, a troubled light came to Louisa’s eyes, and the lines around her mouth deepened with sorrow.  She worried for her husband’s well-being on such a dangerous journey.  She did not doubt his ability as a hunter, she had been present at numerous shooting expeditions where William occasionally and successfully competed.

Riflemen challenged the claim that he was the best buffalo hunter in the West.  Huge sums of money were offered to William to prove his talent.  Hundreds of spectators would converge at the spot where the contests were held, twenty miles east of Fort Sheridan, Illinois.  William and his opponents would hunt for eight hours to see who could shoot the most buffalo.  William always won.  Many of the Plains Indians knew of his reputation and feared him.  Louisa hoped his notoriety would protect him beyond the area where he earned his fame.  Soon after William rode off to join Sheridan’s troops, Louisa began packing and making arrangements to go with him when he returned.

Riding well in advance of the cavalry, William blazed a trail through treacherous, unsettled territory scanning the area for hostile Indians.  Not far from Fort Larned, Kansas, where his trip originated, he spotted a large gathering of Kiawa and Comanche braves.  Other than being restless and anxious about receiving a herd of cattle the U.S. Government had promised the tribes, William accepted the word of the Indian leaders that they were not planning any attack.  It did not go unnoticed by him, however, that many of the Natives were armed with rifles and had a generous supply of ammunition.  He continued on his way, but kept a careful eye out for tribesmen who might be considering going on the warpath.

Days after his first encounter with the Indians, he was hurrying towards the next outpost on the trek to get supplies and a fresh mount when he was stopped by forty braves.  He recognized them as the same men whom he had met outside Fort Larned.  Their faces were now smeared with red paint, and their demeanor was clearly unfriendly.  William was jerked off his ride, disarmed, and escorted to their camp along the Arkansas River.  After some fast talking and the promise to help round up several head of cattle and drive them to their village, William was set free.

More than a dozen braves trailed along behind him to make sure he would do what he said.  William slowly managed to pull ahead of his followers and eventually spurred his ride into a full gallop.  A chase between the scout and the Indians ensued.  The braves were gaining on William just as he spotted a party of soldiers moving out of a thicket beside a stream.  The troops noticed William was in trouble and took position with their rifles to fire on the incoming Indians.  When William reached the soldiers he leaped off his mount and fell in with them.  Several shots were fired, and two braves were killed.  The remaining Indians turned away from the ambush and rode back to their encampment. (3)

The Indian uprising along the route did not end with the exchange of gunfire outside Fort Larned.  Native Americans were sullen and bitter about the intrusion on their land and the slaughter of the buffalo.  From the time William left Louisa at the Kansas military post in 1867 until the time he was able to move his family to Nebraska two years later, he would be involved in numerous skirmishes with a variety of Indian tribes.

One of the most dangerous of the armed conflicts occurred in the summer of 1869 on the north fork of Nebraska’s Beaver Creek.  William was leading a group of civilian scouts and Fifth Cavalry soldiers through the dangerous area when they happened upon a tribe of more than 300 Cheyenne warriors and their families.  All were traveling along the water’s edge.  Word of the Indian’s presence was sent to the commander of the troops, and orders were given to the soldiers to keep themselves low in the ravine to avoid being detected.  William was sent ahead to find out how quickly the Indians were moving and in what direction.  He returned with the recommendation that the Cavalry attack the Cheyenne before they discovered the Army was there.

The tribe was not caught unaware.  Their own scouts had caught sight of the Army.  The Indians lined up on one side of the creek-bed and were waiting for the advancing soldiers.  The Fifth Cavalry’s commander, General Carr, divided his men into divisions and concentrated a wave of troops on the point in the line that had the least number of warriors.  A rogue lieutenant decided to attack another point in the line and found himself and his division surrounded by 100 warring Cheyenne.  While the remaining troops fought to rescue the men, the Indians fortified their defense.  They held off the Cavalry long enough to get the women and children out of the area and then, a little at a time, began retreating towards the Republican River.

William’s superior shooting and riding skills were instrumental in driving the Cheyenne into the hills and out of the immediate area.  The grueling battle had left the scout and the other members of the Cavalry exhausted and in need of provisions, ammunition, fresh horses, and reinforcements.  The soldiers knew the Cheyenne were tenacious and would mount a counter attack.  They knew they would need more help to fight back the rested warriors.  William, who had been severely wounded in the episode, volunteered to travel to the nearest fort for assistance.

General Carr recalled William’s brave ride in his daily log.  “…His head was swathed in a bloody handkerchief, which served as a bandage as well as a chapeau, his hat having been shot off, the bullet plowing his scalp badly for about five inches.  He was bleeding profusely – a very close call, but a lucky one.  The advance guard had been relieved, the Indians severely punished, with a loss on our side of only three killed.  Our greatest need was supplies, which the hot trail had side tracked.  As the country was infested with Indians, and it was fifty miles to the nearest supply point, Fort Kearney, on consultation with Cody he decided it would be best to undertake the job himself, a point of characteristic of him, as he never shirked duty or faltered in emergencies.

I gave him the best horse in the outfit, and when twilight arrived, he, after patching up his head a little, was off to bring relief and meet us at a point northwest about a day’s march away.  These were about the most definite directions any scout got in the trackless wastes….  Cody made a ride of fifty miles during the night, arriving at Fort Kearney at daylight.  (4)

He had chased and fought Indians all day, been wounded, and when, through his rare frontier instinct, he reached us he had been almost constantly in the saddle and without sleep for forty hours.”

By late summer 1869, William had moved Louisa and Arta to Fort McPherson and the family was busy partaking in the many social engagements at the post.  At 22, Buffalo Bill, as many came to call him, was recognized by military leaders and government officials as the best guide and hunter on the plains.  He and Louisa were highly sought after guests at dinners, dances, and weekly stage plays.

Female camp followers, wives and daughters of the military men stationed at the fort, found William’s unconventional looks appealing.  They were attentive and eager to be near him.  Louisa had become accustomed to William’s long whiskers and found them as attractive as the other ladies did.  (5)  She had her share of admirers at the post as well.  Settlers, soldiers, and cowboys kept her dance card full at every gala.  (6)

William was proud of his wife, and, in the first year together at the army camp, the two shared many wonderful memories.  Years later, Louisa fondly recalled a Christmas when William left the fort to travel to Cheyenne, Wyoming to bring back “gifts and other necessities of the season.”  While waiting for him to return, she and some of the other wives decorated the hall where a Christmas party was to be held.  She helped prepare a massive holiday meal for the soldiers and their families as well.  William arrived back at the post with a wagon that was overflowing with presents for Arta and the other children who lived there.  “The program,” Louisa later wrote, “came off in high style, except when our daughter stood up and recited a bit of a silly verse her father had taught her, instead of the more appropriate recitation I had selected for her.”  (7)

The Codys’ home at Fort McPherson was a modest two-room cabin with a small log barn located next to it.  Prior to Louisa and Arta’s arrival, William had furnished the home with items he ordered from a store in Cheyenne.  In his attempt to make the primitive structure presentable for his wife and child, he tried to paper the rough walls of the cabin.  He abandoned the chore before it was completed.  “I’m more of a success as an Injun killer,” he told his wife as she inspected the messy job.  Louisa was grateful for her husband’s efforts.  (8)

William wasn’t the only one in the family who had dangerous dealings with the Native Americans who surrounded the post.  Louisa had her share of menacing encounters as well.  One incident occurred at the Codys’ cabin while Louisa and her friend, Mrs. Charles McDonald, were working on sewing projects.  They heard a noise outside the building and spotted hostile Indians lurking about.  The two women knew that braves were mortally afraid of drunken women, so the pair guzzled down a bottle of tea and pretended to be inebriated.  When the Natives saw their behavior they fled in terror.  William was pleased with the fact that Louisa could take care of herself if needed.  He worried less about the safety of his wife and baby when he was out on a scouting mission because he knew she was a capable woman.

The Codys’ marriage grew strong during their time at the fort.  The time they spent together during breaks between scouting expeditions and community activities was enjoyable.  They looked forward to the new baby they were soon going to have and building a life for themselves in Nebraska once William’s commitment to the army reached its end.  Louisa had big plans for her and her husband, but so did Ned Buntline.

Ned Buntline was a newspaper publisher and writer.  He was traveling through the region delivering lectures on the evils of drinking when he met William.  The two men were at Fort Sedgwick, Nebraska when they were introduced.  Ned was fascinated with the adventures the seasoned scout had experienced.  He spent hours questioning William about his life and listening to harrowing tales of near death experiences and survival on the untamed frontier.  Ned was so impressed with William that when he returned to his home state of New York, he penned a dime novel entitled Buffalo Bill: The King of Bordermen – the Wildest and Truest Story I Ever Wrote.  (9)

The book was a huge success and helped make William the most famous westerner to date.  The book became a series, and William read each installment with great enthusiasm and wonder.  He and Ned corresponded between novels, and any new stories involving the daring scout’s encounters with Indians were transformed into another book.  (10)

William’s popularity was still on the rise when his and Louisa’s son was born on November 26, 1870.  The couple named him Kit Carson, after the famed frontiersman William had met when he was a boy.  Not long after Kit’s birth, William was offered the job of Justice of the Peace of Cottonwood Springs.  The one-time Pony Express station and county seat for North Platte was one mile southeast of Fort McPherson.  A series of crimes were being perpetrated outside the jurisdiction of the post.  Government property was being hijacked coming into and going out of the army camp.  The post commander had no jurisdiction over the civilians who were behind the thefts which is why a judge to handle such legal issues needed to be appointed.

William was hesitant at first about accepting the job.  He told the post commander that he didn’t “know any more about law than a government mule does about book-keeping.” (11)  Believing the job would not only keep William close to her, but be a prestigious honor as well, Louisa convinced him to take the position.  William tracked down horse thieves, settled property disputes, officiated at weddings, and over divorce proceedings. (12)

William’s interest in scouting and buffalo hunting did not wane with his new position.  He was called on many times to guide buffalo hunting parties for such well-known men as General Phil Sheridan and the Grand Duke of Russia.  Louisa sent her husband out on such expeditions dressed in elaborate, ornamental garments she had stitched herself.  Those who accompanied him on various hunts, such as General Henry E. Davies, wrote in his book Ten Days on the Plains about how striking William looked.  “Tall and somewhat slight in figure, though possessed of great strength and iron endurance, straight and erect as an arrow, and with strikingly handsome features, he once attracted to him all with whom he became acquainted, and the better knowledge we gained of him during the days he spent with our party increased the good impression he made upon his introduction.”  (13)

The hunting parties William organized and led earned him a considerable amount of money as well as gifts of furs and priceless jewels.  He was mindful of providing for his family’s well-being, but was prone to mismanaging his income if Louisa did not intercede.  He was overly generous to his friends and made poor investment decisions.  Louisa was thrifty and, although she liked fine things, lived in moderation.

The buffalo hunt William planned for Russia’s Grand Duke Alexis resulted in not only a substantial fee for his work, but also a trip to New York.  William had always wanted to visit the east coast, and, out of gratitude for the excellent entertainment Cody offered him, the Duke made arrangements for the scout to make the journey.

Had it not been for the fact that Louisa was expecting their third child, she would have accompanied William on the excursion.  She made sure her husband was ready for his introduction into eastern society regardless.  She worked diligently on adding appropriate garments to his wardrobe.  “We procured some blue cloth at the commissary and, sewing day and night, I made Will his first real soldier suit,” Louisa recalled in her memoirs, “with a Colonel’s gold braid on it, with stripes and cords and all the other gingerbread of an old-fashioned suit of blues.”  (14)  (Colonel was an honorary title given to William by the Governor of Nebraska while serving in the Nebraska National Guard.)

William was well received at every stop along the tour of the eastern cities.  He was treated to fine meals with high ranking government officials and well-known entertainers.  He was invited to balls and introduced to troupes of beautiful women all seeking his favor and attention.  Journalists followed William everywhere he went and recorded what he said at the many events he attended, including a performance of a play written by Ned Buntline based on the novel the author had penned about the daring scout.

The audience gave William a standing ovation when they were informed he was in the theatre.  At Ned’s insistence, he reluctantly made his way to the center of the stage to take a bow.  The response prompted the backers of the show to offer William $500 to play himself.  “You might as well try to make an actor out of a government mule,” William told the theatre manager. (15)

William extended his trip by ten days and would have continued traveling a bit longer if not for an order from General Sheridan to return to Fort McPherson.  Before being rushed off to another uprising between the army and the Indians, he enjoyed a brief visit with his wife and children.  He shared the particulars of his trip with Louisa, but chose not to elaborate on the ladies he met at the various dances where he was a guest.  She learned the details of those outings on her own through the newspaper accounts of his journey.

William wasn’t home long before he hired on as a scout with another hunting expedition.  The time he spent away from the job in New York had made him feel a little insecure about whether or not he could still do the work.  “Why, Mamma,” he joked to Louisa,  “I’m such a tenderfoot right now from being away that I’d run if I even saw an Injun!”  In spite of his brief doubts, he proved himself on the wild plains again and again.

In the summer of 1872, he and his scouting partner, Texas Jack Omohundro, led a group of British sportsmen on a hunting trip that was attacked by North Platte Indians.  Not only did William protect the sportsmen from being killed or captured, but he also helped them acquire the buffalo they hoped to win.  William’s contribution as a scout for the military, combined with his work in helping to keep the peace on the wild frontier, was recognized by the U.S.  Government presenting him with the Congressional Medal of Honor.

In between the various hunting trips, military assignments, award ceremonies, and a short-lived stint in politics, William became a father for the third time.  Louisa gave birth to Orra Maude on August 13, 1872.  Not long after the baby was born, Louisa’s parents urged her to bring the children to St. Louis for a visit, and she agreed.

While his family was away, William decided to accept Ned’s persistent requests to travel with him to Chicago and appear as the lead in the stage play about Cody’s adventures.  William wrote Louisa of his intentions noting, “I don’t know just how bad I’d be at actin’.  I guess maybe I better find out.”  (16)

Ned assumed William would make the trip to Illinois with a troupe of westerners in tow (Indians, trappers, riders, etc.) who would participate in the show with him.  Texas Jack was the only person with him when he arrived in Chicago.  He was so excited that William had changed his mind about participating in the play that he wasn’t overly concerned about the additional casting.  However, the owner of the theatre where the program was to take place was furious.  Not only because William came to town with just one other person, but also because the play itself hadn’t been written yet.

The situation was quickly remedied.  Ned penned a melodrama entitled The Scouts of the Prairie; actors, dancers, and set builders were hired.  All those who hadn’t answered the call to go west were invited to see the play depicting the wilds beyond the Rockies.  On December 12, 1872, audiences flocked to the opening night performance.  The box office receipts for the debut show were more than $2,800.  Ned took his troupe of novice entertainers on the road.  Regardless of the poor reviews the show received for its writing and some of the performances, The Scouts of the Prairie was a financial success.

Louisa was taken aback when William announced he was going to resign as a scout for the army so he might continue with Ned’s show.  “His primary motivation was providing for the children,” Louise wrote in her memoirs.  “He wanted money to send the children to fine schools and give them everything they needed.”  By the end of the first season, William had earned more than $6,000.  It was more money than he had made in all the years he had been a military scout.

His family accompanied him on the road until he purchased a home for them in Rochester, New York in mid 1873.  After making sure Louisa and the children had all they would need until he could see them again, he rode off to rejoin the cast of Ned’s show and enjoy the additional fame the play offered him.

(1)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 18

 

(2)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 155-157

 

(3)  Cody, William F.  An Autobiography of Buffalo Bill Cosmopolitan Book Corporation  New Jersey 1920  Pg. 137-140, Regli, Adolph  The Real Book About Buffalo Bill  Garden City Books  New York 1952  Pg. 141,  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 4

 

(4)  Goodman, Julia Cody & Leonard, Elizabeth  Buffalo Bill: King of the Old West  Library Publishers  New York 1955   Pg. 188, Cody, William  The Adventures of Buffalo Bill  Harper & Brothers  New York 1904  Pg. 135

 

(5)  Regli, Adolph  The Real Book About Buffalo Bill  Garden City Books  New York 1952  Pg. 160

 

 

 

(6)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979

 

Pg. 40

 

(7)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 196-205

 

(8)  Ibid.,  Pg. 160-164

 

(9)  Goodman, Julia Cody & Leonard, Elizabeth  Buffalo Bill: King of the Old West  Library Publishers  New York 1955   Pg. 195-196, Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979  Pg. 25, Cody, William F.  Buffalo Bill’s Life Story  Cosmopolitan Book Corporation  New Jersey 1920  Pg. 159

 

(10)  Monaghan, Jay  The Great Rascal: The Life & Adventures of Ned Buntline  Bantam Book  New York 1953  Pg. 4

 

(11)  Yost, Nellie Snyder  Buffalo Bill His Family, Friends, Fame, Failures and Fortunes Sage Books  Chicago 1979

 

Pg. 45

 

 

(12)  Cody, Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 207

 

(13)  Davies, Henry E. & Hutton, Paul A.  Ten Days on the Plains Southern Methodist University  Dallas, TX. 1985

 

Pg. 25-26

 

(14)  Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 218

 

(15)  Russell, Don  The Lives & Legends of Buffalo Bill Cody  University of Oklahoma Press  Norman, OK. 1979  Pg. 182

 

(16)  Louisa & Cooper, Courtney Ryley  Memories of Buffalo Bill D. Appleton & Company  New York 1919  Pg. 232

 

 

 

 

 

Born This Day

Elizabeth and I

My great nephew Daniel Everett Brady was born last night.  It’s hard to keep my focus and write about the Old West with such news.  I have such a wonderful time with my great niece Elizabeth when I return to Missouri, I look forward to having just as much fun with Daniel.  Elizabeth likes to dance.  My last visit home she and I danced for hours to the Taylor Swift song Mean.  Elizabeth is mute but exceptional at signing.  She’s a brilliant child and beautiful.  Daniel Everett was named after my brothers Scott Daniel and Rick Everett.  I think my niece Melissa is quite magnanimous for making this kind gesture.  I’m so proud of her.  The memory of my brother Rick will live on in little Daniel.  Every time we say his full name we’ll be reminded of his Uncle.  Maybe I can persuade Daniel to dance with Elizabeth and I – to throw his little hands high in the air and celebrate life and the memory of all those that came before us.