Ten American Girls from History

by Kate Dickinson Sweetser

Here her record is detailed, and as concise as possible. She writes:

"I will tell it as clearly and quickly as I can. We had reached a short sandy hill, and as the oxen were all tired, it was the custom at such places for the drivers to double up teams and help one another up the hill. A driver named Snyder, for some unaccountable reason, decided to go up alone. His oxen could not pull their load, and Snyder, angry at them, began to beat them. Father, who had gone on ahead, looking for the best road, came back, and in trying to make Snyder stop abusing his beasts, roused his anger to the point of frenzy. Father said, 'We can settle this, John, when we get up the hill.' 'No,' said Snyder. 'We will settle it now!' and, jumping on the tongue of his wagon, he struck father a hard blow over the head with his heavy whip-stock. One blow followed another, and father was stunned, as well as blinded by the blood streaming down from the gashes in his head. The whip was about to drop again when mother sprang between the two men. Father saw the uplifted whip and had only time to cry 'John! John!' when down came the blow on mother's head. Quick as a flash father's hunting-knife was out and Snyder fell, mortally wounded, and fifteen minutes later died. Then father realized, too late, what he had done. Dashing the blood from his eyes, he knelt over the dying man, who had been his friend, with remorse and agony in his expression.

"Camp was pitched at once, our wagon being some distance from the others, and father, whose head was badly cut, came to me.

"'Daughter,' he asked, 'do you think you can dress these wounds in my head? Your mother is not able and they must be attended to.' I said, promptly: 'Yes, if you will tell me what to do.' Then we went into the wagon, where we would not be disturbed, and I washed and dressed his wounds as best I could. When I had done what he told me to do, I burst out crying, and father clasped me in his arms, saying: 'I should not have asked so much of you!' I told him it was pity for him that made me cry. Then he talked to me quietly until I had controlled my feelings and was able to go back to the tent where mother was lying, weak and dazed by the happenings of the day. And there were worse things to come. In our party there was a man who had been in the habit of beating his wife until father told him he must either stop it or measures would be taken to make him. He did not dare abuse her again, but he hated father from that time, and now he had his chance for revenge. After Snyder had been buried, and father had sadly watched the last clod of earth piled on the grave, the men of the party held a conference from which our family were excluded. We waited a short distance away, in terrified suspense to know the outcome of it, as we were sure it concerned father. And it did. His plea of self-defense was not acceptable to them, they said, and we shivered as we saw such bitterness on the men's faces as seemed sure would lead to lynching. Father saw it, but he was no coward. Baring his neck, he stepped forward, and proudly said, 'Come on, gentlemen!' No one moved, and presently he was told that he must leave the party, an exile—must go out in the wilderness alone without food or weapons. It was a cruel sentence, for it might result either in starvation or in murder by the Indians, and it is no wonder that mother was beside herself with fright, that we children knew not what to do or where to turn for help. Father heard the sentence in silence, then facing the group of old-time friends, with brave eyes, he said: 'I will not go. My act was one of self-defense, and as such is justified before God and man.'

"Meanwhile, my mother had been thinking, as she told me later, and she begged father to accept the sentence and leave the party, thinking it would be less dangerous than to remain among men who had become his enemies. He firmly refused until she pleaded that the whole party were now practically destitute of food, and if he remained, as an outcast, he would be obliged to see his children starve, while by going he might be able to meet them with food which he had procured somewhere. After a fearful struggle with his own desires, father consented, but not until the men of the party had promised to care for his innocent wife and children. Then, after he had held mother in his arms for a long agonized moment, he turned to me, and I forced my eyes to meet his with such fearless trust that he looked less despairing as he picked up Patty for a last hug and gripped the boys with an emotion too deep for any words; then he went off, an exile in the desert.

"I had no idea what I was going to do about it, but I knew I must do something. Through the long hours of the day, while I was busy soothing and comforting mother, who felt it keenly that we were left as much alone as if we were lepers, I was thinking busily. Our wagon was drawn up apart from the others, and we ate our scanty evening meal in silence. Milt Elliott and some others tried to talk with us, and show their friendliness, but mother would only answer in monosyllables and commanded the children to do the same. We were an utterly desolate, frightened group as darkness fell over us. I was busy helping the children get to bed, and then I found mother in such a state of collapse that I could think of nothing but comforting and quieting her.

"At last she fell asleep, and I crept to my bed, but I could not sleep. I must act. At last, I made a decision. I was strong and fearless, and father had no food or light or supplies, out there alone in the trackless wilderness. I stole to my mother's side and she roused at my light touch.

"'Mother, dear,' I whispered, 'I am going out to find father and take him some food, and his gun, and ammunition.' She roused and exclaimed:

"'What do you mean, child? You cannot find your father!'

"'I'm not going alone,' I replied 'I've asked Milt and he says he'll go with me.'