But though I paid no attention to the rumor it proved a sad reality. That very day after I had returned to the tent which I called home, my mother's brother, Uncle Billy Millican, who is still living in Walla Walla, appeared and told me that it was only too true, that my father had been taken suddenly sick and had died a number of days before, and that my mother was even then on her way to Walla Walla.
The next day she came, having come on the Steamer Colonel Wright, of which Lew White was captain, on her second or third trip from The Dalles to Wallula. From that place she came with Capt. F. F. Dent in an army ambulance to Walla Walla. That Captain Dent, by the way, was a brother-in-law of General Grant.
As you can imagine it was a sad, hard journey for a woman who had just been made a widow, and who was soon to be again a mother.
It shows something of the nerve and heroism of pioneer women that they could go through such experiences. My mother had been strongly advised to give up her claim. A man had offered her $300.00 for it, and Judge Shattuck, one of the leading lawyers of Portland, urged her to take it, assuring her that it would be the most that she could ever get out of it. But father had been greatly impressed with the prospective value of the place and the prospects of the town, and my mother had been so much impressed with his views that she determined to hold the claim.
Accordingly, after spending two weeks with me she returned to Portland. I spent that summer, sometimes a very lonesome one, in the tent, or hoeing the garden which he had put out, and in September Robert Horton and Uncle Billy Millican put up a cabin from the logs.
The cabin was put on the present location of Harry Reynolds' house. It was moved from there a few feet many years ago, and put on a good foundation, so that it is now just about as sound as ever. It is undoubtedly the oldest house now existing in the Inland Empire, in which a white woman lived. My mother was about the first white woman in this region, after the missionary period.
My mother came back to Walla Walla in October of that same year, 1859, with her newly born child, then six weeks old, to live the remainder of her life in Walla Walla.
During those early years the valley seemed to be filled with Indians, but they were very kindly and well disposed, and we had no trouble with them, even though a good part of the time we were alone, mother and the baby and the little boy and myself as the nearest a man about the place. We had plenty of horses and cattle and chickens and garden and had an abundance of the necessities, though no elegancies.
There were two principal Indian chiefs, and they, with their squaws and children were often around the house. They were fine Indians. Yellowhawk was one of them, and his location was on the creek named after him, on what is now the Billy Russell place near the Braden schoolhouse. The other was Tintimitsy. His location was on what became the J. H. Abbott place.
As I remember the old town in 1860, there were several shack stores. One was that of Neil McClinchy, on what would now be between Third and Fourth streets.