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True Pioneer Stories as told by Delilah May Boice Asay
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    Delilah May Boice circa 1902

    MY HAT WITH POPPIES
    "While we lived in Waterloo, the men found work.  I was lucky to find a job at the J.B. Welcome Ranch and worked there two summers helping cook for the haying crew.  I made $25.00 a month.  Back then, that was good money.

    During the winters I worked for Mrs. Solabadger until she moved away.  She could not take their sheppard dog, Sport, and she wanted to find a good home for him.  She asked me if my folks might want him.  He was a good cattle dog and Father was happy to get him.

    With the money I earned, I helped the folks some and bought my clothes.  I was 17 years old and I wanted to have a new outfit to wear in the new community.  I bought material and Mother made me a beautiful rose dress.  I bought shoes and a lovely hat.  It was white leghorn with a wide brim.  One side was turned up and and the top was filled with red silk poppies with a black velvet ribbon. 

    Just before we left on the journey to the Big Horn Basin, I had my picture taken in my lovely outfit.  I was excited about the coming adventure and driving my parent's camp wagon.  I tied my new hat up in a tea towel and fastened it to the top of the wagon.  Two days on the journey we met a man who wanted (to) trade horses.  Father said that he would for $75.00 more.  The trade was made and the horses were switched onto the wagon I was driving.  The new horse looked like Black Beauty, except for a deformed front leg, but that didn't prevent it from being a good work horse.

    We had been traveling about ten days when Sport ran alongside the new horse and got kicked and a broken leg.  Father said, "We'll either have to shoot the dog or haul him."  Every wagon was loaded to capacity.  I said, "Put him in my wagon."  The camp wagon had a stove bolted to the floor and I traveled with soup and so forth cooking on the stove.  Father and Will set Sport's hind leg and put him in my wagon.

    A few days later the ties that held my new hat to the roof of the wagon came loose and had fell in front of Sport.  He chewed the hat up and scattered the red poppies.  When I discovered what had happened, I was brokenhearted.  I gathered the poppies hoping to do something with them later.

    As I started on down the road, I kept thinking about my pretty hat.  Every once in a while, I would look back and scold, "Shame on you Sport!"  Finally, he started putting his paws over his eyes and then he would raise one paw and look at me and whine as if to say, "I'm so sorry."

    My four year old great-grandson, Charles Shumway III of Las Vegas, Nevada was told this story and shown the picture.  He cried about it and said, "My Great-Grandma is gonna have a hat."  He wrote a poem and on my 90th birthday he gave me a white wide brim straw hat.  I have had many hats, but the hat he gave me is my prized one."

    "When the dog ate your hat,
    It made me feel bad.
    I bought you a new hat,
    To make you feel glad."
        -- by Charles Shumway III

    Story as written in "Handmaidens of the Lord," a collection of histories and stories by Gwendolyn
    pp329.

    Delila's granddaughter Marlene Wasden Cupit had a dress and hat made for the occasion of the 2004 Asay Reunion held in Orem, Utah and re-told this story.



    (double click on image to enlarge)


    News paper article appearing in the Lovell Chronical in Anna's Column following and Open House honoring Delilah Asay on the occasion of her 92nd Birthday.

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  • 04/09/10--22:13: Visiting Teaching Message
  • Contented Cows

    Story as retold by granddaughter, Joye Marostica, entitled
    "Visiting Teaching With a Sense of Humor"

    Delila loved her calling as a visiting teacher. To go into the homes of the assigned sisters once a month with a gospel message was to her a wonderful opportunity to show compassion to others.

    Sister MacLemore was her companion, and the sisters they visited looked forward to their words of encouragement and occasional baskets of garden produce, homemade bread or other small gifts.

    The lessons to be taught always came from the Relief Society General Board in Salt Lake, and their purpose was to help the women of the church to be better homemakers and mothers, and to point out ways of living the gospel in their daily lives.

    In the early 1900’s some people had still not heard of milk pasteurization - Delila was one of these.

    As Sister MacLemore and Grandma were preparing to do their visiting teaching one day they came upon a new word… pasteurize. They discussed it at some length and finally concluded it meant ‘putting the cows in a lovely green pasture in order to produce good rich milk.”


    After a word of prayer asking the Lord for his guidance in this important health lesson - they started out. Among the ladies on their route was the wife of Doctor Edward Croft. Before reaching the Crofts they stopped to see Sister Stewart, fortunately Brother Stewart happened to be home… after their very ‘informative’ lesson, he very tactfully explained the concept of heating milk to prevent disease - much to their surprise!

    Delila was so grateful they had started with prayer and had their act together before reaching the Doctor’s home.

    That evening Grandma laughed as she told the family of her blunder… turning humiliation into an extremely funny joke on herself.

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  • 04/09/10--23:51: The Dishpan Ride

  • Delila’s parents made good use of tubs. A small one was used for gathering woodchips as well as for dishes. The following incident is from Delila’s journal:

    I remember the stacks of wood that had to be chopped and carried into the house to keep the stoves and kitchen range well supplied. We always gathered chips of wood for quick heat.

    One time my niece, Louise Boice, and I returned from school. Mother said, “You girls hurry and gather the chips and I will stir up a cake and buttermilk biscuits for supper.”

    We went to the porch and each took a large pan to gather the chips in. As we were looking we discovered a trail down the snow covered hill. We decided it would be fun to sit in the pan and slide down. My pan began to whirl and didn’t stop until I crashed into a quaking aspen tree. I wasn’t hurt but I was so dizzy and didn’t feel like eating supper. That was my first and last trip down a hill in a dishpan.

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  • 04/13/10--14:08: Story of the Red Rose

  • The Red Rose has always been significant in the Asay family, especially for Grandmother Asay. I always thought Grandpa gave the rose to the pretty girl driving the wagon. Joy Marostica re-tells the story:


    Over the years I had always been aware that the red rose held a special meaning for my Grandparents, but it wasn’t until recently that I understood why.

    In June of 1977 as we drove with Grandmother through the desolate Wyoming prairies on our way to Casper, we asked her to tape some of the events of her life. We were delighted to find her telling us of her romance with Grandfather.

    In the early 1900’s Grandpa’s family was helping the church in the development of the Big Horn Basin and they had settled in Lovell. It was necessary on one occasion for Adelbert to go to Montana in search of a missing young boy. After traveling many miles he lay down for a nap by the Yellowstone River. Upon awakening he discovered a beautiful red rose lying on the bank. He stuck it in his shirt, jumped on his horse, and continued his journey. He could see a wagon in the distance and as he came closer he observed a young lady driving it.

    This 17 year old girl was Delila Boice on her way to the Big Horn Basin with her family. She saw the lone rider with a flash of red on his shirt in the distance. She hoped he would be of some help for directions. As Adelbert rode closer she noticed he was very handsome; she hoped her father would speak kindly to him, and she felt anyone who would wear a red rose on a hot, dusty ride must be sensitive, nice, and wonderful!

    Adelbert did give them directions and encouraged them to settle in Lovell, as the soil was fertile, the water clear, and it was so beautiful there.

    Brother Boice took his advice and the following Sunday at church the courtship began - August 17, 1903.

    In those days for entertainment the young people in Lovell danced on the Shoshone River Bridge. The dance hall was for the “rowdy bunch.” Reuben Allpin and Orin Elmer played the harmonicas and someone called the quadrilles. When a wagon wanted to cross, the dancers scooted to the sides. Delila’s and Delbert’s favorite dance tune was “In the Good Old Summer Time.”

    On October 5, 1903 Delila and Adelbert were married in the tent home of her parents. They continued to enjoy dancing, and as their children were born they took them along putting them to sleep on the large pile of dancers’ coats.

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    Over Looking Bear River

    This True Indian Story was a favorite story Louisa told Phoebe Wheeler.

    "It was the winter of 1860 in Franklin, Idaho and the Saints were having trouble with the Indians. They were stealing cattle, horses, and giving plenty of trouble. They were told if they didn't get along they would send the army, but the Indians didn't believe them, so the soldiers were sent for and they came one evening. The Pioneers fed them and gave them a good place to sleep. The next morning they fought with the Indians, there were eight soldiers killed and many Indians killed and wounded. All the families in the settlement had to care for the wounded Indians. They put them in buildings and took food, water and medicine to them.

    
    Sarah Goode Marshall
    
    
    Louisa Marshall Boice
    
    George Thomas Marshall













    There were two Indians given to great-great-grandmother, Sarah Marshall. Louisa (great-grandmother) was only 10 years old, and her brother George was 8. It was their job to take the food and water to the 2 Indians who were in the blacksmith shop. One of the Indians hands was shot pretty bad so he asked Grandmother if she and Uncle George would get some bark off quaken aspen tree, chokeberry tree, tag elder, and kontnick tree which they did. They put the bark in a big clean pot and cooked it over the fire. When it was done and cooled he put it on his hands and soon they were healed. They kept him the rest of the winter and when spring came let him go back to his tribe. He always called Louisa, Sockobee.
    The years passed and grandmother married and had 6 children living in Frankfort on a big farm. Martin Calvin was doing some investigating at the lower field and wanted Louisa to walk around the field with him. There were Indians camped at the lower end of the field. Calvin said Louisa lets walk over and see if we know any of them so they did.

    When they got to the camp, an old Indian came forward and said, "Sockobee, Sockobee."
    Grandmother didn't know what he was trying to say or recognize him. Then he held up his two scared hands and she knew he was one of the Indians she helped to care for many years before when she was a small girl, 10 years of age."

    Grandmother Delilah Asay told us this story, telling abou the Indian braves that escaped the soldiers hid under the banks of the frozen river and the snow being red with blood. Rick, has many Northern Shoshone friends, and tried to discover what Sokopee meant. Since it is phonetic, the closest translation that makes sense is "Little mother". In any case, this Indian used it as a term of endearment.




    (click below to hear Amazing Grace in Cherokee)

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  • 10/12/10--00:07: Cherokee Morning Song
  • The Holy Bible and The Book of Mormon (Another Testament of Jesus Christ)
    The Stick of Judah and The Stick of Joseph

    Beautiful Cherokee Morning Song (Click to  Listen)



    We n' de ya ho, We n' de ya ho,
    We n' de ya, We n' de ya Ho ho ho ho,
    He ya ho, He ya ho, Ya ya ya


    Translation - We n' de ya ho

    Freely translated: "A we n'" (I am), "de" (of), "Yauh" --the-- (Great Spirit), "Ho" (it is so).

    Written as: A we n' de Yauh ho (I am of the Great Spirit, Ho!).

    This language stems from very ancient Cherokee
    Arranged by Rita Coolidge and Robbie Robertson.
    Translation by David Michael Wolfe who is an Eastern Virginia Cherokee and a cultural historian. Thanks to Maurizio Orlando  for providing the translation.

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  • 10/12/10--00:33: Bath Time
  • Story as told by Zela Asay's daughter, Joy Marostica

    The wash tub in the Asay home was an important piece of equipment. Not only did Grandmother wash clothes and kids in it, but it was on occasion used to store apples. One evening when my mother was a teenager, a group of friends dropped by to invite her to a dance. Wanting to appear a lady of leisure she said, “I’d love to go but first, Âlbert, would you please draw my bâth?” Twelve year old Ab promptly replied, “Sure, Zeke, (Zela hated that nickname), but I’ll have to dump the apples out first.”
     


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    They Started Flight
    
    CROSSING THE PLAINS DAYS OF '57
    A NARRATIVE OF EARLY EMIGRANT TRAVEL
    TO CALIFORNIA BY THE
    OX-TEAM METHOD

    BY
    WM. AUDLEY MAXWELL
    COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY
    WM AUDLEY MAXWELL
    SUNSET PUBLISHING HOUSE
    SAN FRANCISCO MCMXV

    Note:  Additional information regarding Holloway Massacre
    As recorded in "Book of Crossing the Plains, Days of '57' by William Audley Maxwell 
    Note: This is a true story of an Indian Massacre involving my daughter-in-law's ancesters.
    Jeremiah Bush is her gg-grandfather.


    CHAPTER IV.
    DISQUIETING RUMORS OF REDMEN. CONSOLIDATION FOR SAFETY.
    THE POISONOUS HUMBOLDT.

    Soon after passing the summit of the Rocky Mountains there were rumors of a hostile attitude toward emigrants on the part of certain Indian tribes farther west. For a time such information seemed vague as to origin and reliability, but in time the rumors became persistent, and there developed a feeling of much concern, first for the safety of our stock, later for our own protection.

    Measures of precaution were discussed. Men of our train visited those of others, ahead and behind us, and exchanged views regarding the probability of danger and the best means for protection and defense. We were forced to the conclusion that the situation was grave; and the interests of the several trains were mutual. As the members of the different parties, most of whom previously had been strangers to one another, met and talked of the peril which all believed to be imminent, they became as brothers; and mutual protection was the theme that came up oftenest and was listened to with the most absorbing interest.

    By the time we had crossed the Green River these consultations had matured into a plan for consolidation of trains, for greater concentration of strength. A. J. Drennan's company of four or five wagons, immediately ahead of us, and the Dr. Kidd train, of three wagons, next behind us, closed up the space between, and all three traveled as one train. Thus combined, a considerable number of able-bodied men were brought together, making a rather formidable array for an ordinary band of Indians to attack. Every man primed his gun and thenceforth took care to see that his powder was dry.

    Still the youthful element occasionally managed to extract some humor out of the very circumstances which the older and more serious members held to be grounds for forebodings of evil. One morning after we had left camp, a favorite cow was missing from the drove. "Jack" Aston and Major Crewdson, both young fellows, rode back in search of the stray. From a little hill-top they saw, in a ravine below, some half dozen Indians busily engaged in skinning the cow. "Jack" and the Major returned and merely reported what they had seen. They were asked why they had not demanded of those "rascally" Indians that they explain why they were skinning a cow that did not belong to them. "Jack" promptly answered that, as for himself, he had never been introduced to this particular party of Indians, and was not on speaking terms with them; furthermore, neither he nor the Major had sufficient knowledge of the Indian language properly to discuss the matter with them.

    The route pursued led to the north of Great Salt Lake, thence northwesterly. Our line of travel did not therefore bring us within view of the Mormon settlements which had already been established at the southerly end of the great inland sea.

    We camped one night approximately where the city of Ogden now stands, then a desolate expanse of sand-dunes. A group of our men sat around the camp-fire that evening, discussing the probability of a railroad ever being constructed over the route we were traveling. All of them were natives or recent residents of the Middle West, and it is probable that not one had ever seen a railroad. The unanimous opinion was that such a project as the building of a railroad through territory like that over which we had thus far traveled would be a task so stupendous as to baffle all human ingenuity and skill. Yet, some twelve years later, the ceremony of driving the famous "last spike," completing the railroad connection between the Atlantic and Pacific, was performed on a sand flat very near the spot where we camped that night. The intervening period saw the establishment of the "pony express," which greatly facilitated the mail service (incidentally reducing letter postage to Pacific Coast points from twenty-five to ten cents). That service continued from the early sixties until through railroad connection was made.

    After the consolidation of trains as described, our next neighbor to the rear was Smith Holloway, whose "outfit" consisted of three wagons, with a complement of yokewise oxen and some horses and mules; also a large drove of stock cattle, intended for the market in California, where it was known they would be salable at high prices. He had with him his wife, a little daughter, and Jerry Bush, Mrs. Holloway's brother, a young man of twenty-one years; also two hired men, Joe Blevens and Bird Lawles. Holloway kept his party some distance behind us, he having declined to join the consolidation of trains in order to avoid the inconvenience that the mingling of his stock with ours would entail, with reference to pasture, and camping facilities.

    A mile or two behind Holloway were the trains of Captain Rountree, the Giles company, Simpson Fennell, Mr. Russell, and others, equipped with several wagons each, and accompanied by some loose stock.

    All these were traveling along, a sort of moving neighborhood; incidentally getting acquainted with one another, visiting on the road by day and in the camp at evening time; talking of the journey, of the country for which we were en route, and our hopes of prosperity and happiness in the new El Dorado—but most of all, just then, of the probable danger of attack by savage tribes.

    More than ever rumors of impending trouble were flying from train to train. Some of these were to the effect that white bandits were in league with Indians in robbing and murdering emigrants. The well-known treachery of the savages, and the stories we heard of emigrants having been slaughtered also by whites—the real facts of which we knew little of—were quite enough to beget fear and suggest the need of plans for the best possible resistance.

    Up to this time there was frequent communication between trains, a considerable distance ahead and behind. As at home, neighbor would visit neighbor, and discuss the topics of the day; so, from time to time we met persons in other trains who gave out information obtained before leaving home, or from mountaineers, trappers or explorers, occasionally met while we were yet on the eastern slope of the Rockies; men who were familiar with Indian dialects and at peace with the tribes, enabling them to learn much that was of importance to the emigrants.

    Dissemination of news among the people of the various trains near us was accomplished not only during visits by members of one train to those of another, but sometimes by other methods. One of these, which was frequently employed in communicating generally or in signaling individuals known to be somewhere in the line behind us, was by a system of "bone-writing."
    
    Bone-writing
    There were along the line of travel many bare, bleached bones of animals that had died in previous years, many of them doubtless the animals of earlier emigrants. Some of these, as for example, the frontal or the jaw-bone, whitened by the elements, and having some plain, smooth surface, were excellent tablets for pencil writing. An emigrant desiring to communicate with another, or with a company, to the rear, would write the message on one of these bones and place the relic on a heap of stones by the roadside, or suspend it in the branches of a sage bush, so conspicuously displayed that all coming after would see it and read. Those for general information, intended for all comers, were allowed to remain; others, after being read by the person addressed, were usually removed. Sometimes when passing such messages, placed by those ahead of us, we added postscripts to the bulletins, giving names and dates, for the edification of whomever might care to read them. It was in this way that some of the developments regarding the Indian situation were made known by one train to another.

    Thus we progressed, counting off the average of about eighteen miles a day from the long part of the journey that still lay before us, when we reached Thousand Springs, adjacent to the present boundary line between Utah and Nevada. This, we were told, was the source of the Humboldt River. We were told, too, that the four hundred miles down the course of that peculiar stream—which we could not hope to traverse in much less than one month—we would find to be the most desert-like portion of the entire trip, the most disagreeable and arduous, for man and beast. Such was to be expected by reason of the character of that region and the greater danger there of Indian depredations; also because the passage through that section was to be undertaken after our teams had become greatly worn, therefore more likely to fail under hard conditions. Furthermore, scarcity of feed for the stock was predicted, and, along much of the way, uncertainty as to water supply, other than that from the Humboldt River, which was, especially at that time of the year, so strongly impregnated with alkali as to be dangerous to life.

    Nearly all the face of the country was covered with alkali dust, which, in a light, pulverulent state, rose and filled the air at the slightest breeze or other disturbance. It was impossible to avoid inhaling this powder to some extent, and it created intense thirst, tending toward exhaustion and great suffering. We knew that sometimes delirium was induced by this cause, and even death resulted from it in cases of very long exposure under the worst conditions.

    Sometimes for miles the only vegetable growth we found along the river was a string of willow bushes, fringing its course, and scattered, stunted sagebrush, growing feebly in gravel and dry sand, the leaves of which were partly withered and of a pale, ashy tint. Feed for the animals was very scarce. It was not possible, over much of the way, to get sufficient fresh water for the stock, therefore difficult to restrain them from drinking the river water. Some did drink from that stream, despite all efforts to prevent it, the result being that many of them died while we made our way along the sluggish Humboldt.

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  • 10/26/10--13:40: Holloway Massacre
  • 

    Nancy Bush Holloway circa 1858
    As recorded in "Book of Crossing the Plains, Days of '57' by William Audley Maxwell
    
    Note:  This is a true story of an Indian Massacre on the Humboldt River 30 miles East of Winnemucca,Nevada, August 14, 1857. Jeremiah Bush is my daughter-in-law's gg-grandfather.  This is not a story Grandmother Asay told, but is a true Pioneer Story and seemed to fit best here.

    CHAPTER V.

    THE HOLLOWAY MASSACRE.

    It was decided that while in this region we would, whenever possible, make our camp some distance from the river, in order that the stock might be prevented from drinking the dangerous river water, also for the reason that the clumps of willows by the stream could be used as a cover by Indians bent on mischief: and they, we now believed, were watching for a favorable opportunity to surprise us.

    It transpired that the Holloway party neglected this precaution, at least on one occasion, sometime after passing the head of the Humboldt River. Their train was next behind ours when, on the evening of August 13th, after rounding up their stock for the night, a short distance from the wagons, they stopped near the willows by the river and made what proved to be their last camp.

    Behind them, but not within sight, were several emigrant camps at points varying from a few rods to half a mile apart.

    The Holloway party retired as usual for the night; Mr. and Mrs. Holloway and their child, a girl of two years, in a small tent near the wagons; Jerry Bush, Mrs. Holloway's brother, and one of the hired men, Joe Blevens, in their blankets on the ground; while Bird Lawles, the other hired man, being ill with a fever, slept in a wagon.

    There were others with this party that night; Mr. and Mrs. Callum, Mr. Hattlebaugh, and a man whose name is now unknown. These four had been traveling near the Holloway party, and joined it for camping on that occasion.

    The following morning Mr. Holloway was the first to arise. While making the camp-fire, he called to the others to get up, saying cheerfully:

    "Well, we've got through one more night without a call from the Redskins."

    "Bang, bang," rang out a volley of rifle shots, fired from the willows along the river, less than a hundred yards away.

    Mr. Holloway fell, fatally shot, and died without a word or a struggle. As other members of the emigrant party sprang to their feet and came within view of the assailants, the firing continued, killing Joe Blevens, Mrs. Callum, and the man whose name is not recalled; while Bird Lawles, being discovered on his sick bed in a wagon, was instantly put to death.
    
    Jerimiah "Jerry" Bush
     Meanwhile Jerry Bush grasped his rifle and joined battle against the assassins. Thus far the savages remained hidden in the bushes, and Jerry's shots were fired merely at places where he saw the tall weeds and willows shaken by the motions of the Indians, therefore he has never known whether his bullets struck one of the enemy.

    While thus fighting alone, for his life and that of his people, he received a gunshot in his side and fell. Knowing that he was unable to continue the fight, and, though doubting that he could rise, he endeavored to shield himself from the bullets and arrows of the Indian band. He succeeded in dragging himself to the river bank, when, seizing a willow branch, he lowered himself to the foot of the steep cliff, some ten feet, reaching the water's edge. He then attempted to swim to the opposite shore. The effort caused him to lose his gun, in deep water. Owing to weakness due to his wound, he was unable to cross the stream.

    Jerry Bush's parting view of the camp had revealed the apparent destruction of his entire party, except himself. Observing the body of at least one woman, among the victims on the ground, he believed that his sister also had been slain.

     But Mrs. Holloway and the little girl were still in the tent, for the time unhurt, and just awakened from their morning slumber. Having realized that the camp was being attacked, Mrs. Holloway emerged from the tent to find no living member of her party in sight, other than herself and her child. For a moment she was partially shielded by the wagons. The first object that drew her attention was her husband's form, lying still in death, near the fire he had just kindled. Next beyond was the dead body of Blevens, and a little farther away were the remains of the others who had been slain. Her brother she did not see, but supposed he had met the same fate as the others whom she saw on the ground. Jerry was an experienced hunter; she knew that he always owned a fine gun, and had full confidence that, if he were alive and not disabled, he would defend his people to the last.

    "With hand upraised, in supplication, yielded to the impulse to flee" She saw some of the Indians coming from their ambush by the river. They approached for a time with caution, looking furtively about, as if to be sure there was no man left to defend the camp. As they drew nearer Mrs. Holloway realized that she and her child were facing an awful fate—death or captivity. On came the savages, now more boldly, and in greater numbers.
    
    Holloway Massacre on Humboldt River Sketch
     The terrified woman, clothed only in her night robe, barefooted; not knowing whether to take flight or stand and plead for mercy; with the child on one arm, one hand raised in supplication, yielded finally to the impulse to flee. As she started the attacking band resumed firing; she was struck, by arrows and at least one bullet, and dropped headlong to the ground.

    Though conscious, she remained motionless, in the hope that, by feigning death she might escape further wounds and torture. But the Indians came, and taking the arrows from her body, punctured her flesh with the jagged instruments, as a test whether physical sensation would disclose a sign of life remaining. She lay with eyes closed; not a muscle twitched nor a finger moved, while those demons proceeded, in no delicate manner, to cut the skin around the head at the edge of the hair, then tear the scalp from the skull, leaving the bare and bleeding head on the ground.

    Horrible as all this was, it did not prove to be the last nor the most revolting exhibition of wanton lust for blood.

    The little girl, who it is hoped had been rendered insensible at sight of the cruelties perpetrated upon her mother, was taken by the feet and her brains dashed out on the wheels of a wagon. To this last act in the fiendish drama there was probably no witness other than the actors in it; but the child's body, mangled too terribly for description, and the bloody marks on the wagon, gave evidence so convincing that there could not be a moment's doubt of what had occurred.

    The marauders now began a general looting of the wagons. Some of their number were rounding up the stock, preparing to drive the cattle away, when the trains of emigrants next in the rear appeared, less than half a mile distant. This caused the Indian band to retreat. They crossed the river, and then placing themselves behind the willows, hurried away, making their escape into the mountain fastnesses. Owing to their precipitous departure, much of the plunder they were preparing to take was left behind them. Among the articles thus dropped by them was the scalp of Mrs. Holloway, and the rescuing party found and took possession of it.

    Those emigrants who first came upon the scene found Mrs. Holloway apparently dead; but, on taking her up, they saw that she was alive. Though returning to semi-consciousness some time later, her condition was such that she was unable to tell the story then; but there were evidences showing plainer than words could have told of the awful events of that morning, which had converted the quiet camp of this happy, hopeful company into a scene of death and destruction.

    Before noon a large number of people of the great emigrant procession had arrived. They united in giving to the dead the best interment that the circumstances permitted. Then the broken and scattered effects of the Holloway company were gathered up, and the now mournful trains took position in the line of pilgrimage and again moved forward towards the Pacific.

    Mr. Fennell, aided by Captain Rountree's company and others, attempted to save such of the Holloway property as had not been carried off or destroyed. They were successful in recovering about one hundred of the one hundred and fifty head of stock which the Indians had endeavored to drive away. Two mules that were being led off by ropes broke away from the savage band and returned, but the emigrants did not recover any of the stolen horses.

    Jerry Bush found his way back to the scene. His injury, though apparently of a dangerous character, did not delay the relief parties more than a day after the attack, and the wound healed within a few weeks. It was reported that Callum and Hattlebaugh had escaped, but their further whereabouts was not known.

    Captain Rountree took charge of Mrs. Holloway and her brother and brought them, with such of their stock and other belongings as remained, to The Meadows, on the Feather River. After partially recuperating there, an uncle, Mr. Perry Durban, came to their aid, and they were taken to Suisun. After full recovery from his wound, Jerry Bush located in Ukiah, and resided there some years. He still survives, now a resident of Hulett, Wyoming, at the ripe age of eighty years.

    The slaughter of the Holloway party occurred at a point on the Humboldt River some thirty miles east of where Winnemucca is located, a few miles west of Battle Mountain. This becomes apparent by careful estimates of distance traveled per day, rather than by landmarks noted at the time, there being no settlements there, nor elsewhere along the route, at that time.

    Jerry Bush, 1914 It was perhaps a year later when I went to a camp-meeting one Sunday, at Mark West Creek, in Sonoma County, California. The people attending a service were in a small opening among trees. Standing back of those who were seated, I saw among them a woman whose profile seemed familiar, and later I recognized her as Mrs. Holloway.

    My interest in her career, due to her extraordinary part in the Indian massacre on the plains, was heightened by the fact that I had known her previously, as the daughter of Mr. Bush, a prosperous farmer, and had been present when she married Mr. Holloway, in a little schoolhouse, near Rockport, Atchison County, Missouri. It seemed a natural impulse which prompted me to ask her for particulars of the tragedy, so disastrous to herself and her family; though later there were misgivings regarding the propriety of doing so.

    Mrs. Holloway appeared at that time to be in good health, and was cheerful, possessing perfect control of her faculties. Her head was covered by a wig, made of her own hair, taken from the scalp that was recovered at the scene of the massacre.

    All the heartrending experiences that she had endured were imprinted upon her mind in minutest detail, and she related them in the exact order of their occurrence. The recalling of the terrible ordeal, however, so wrought upon her emotions that she wept, to the limit of mild hysteria, which brought our conversation to a close, and soon thereafter she left the place.

    I saw her no more; but learned sometime afterwards that her health failed, then of the giving away of her mental powers, and still later of her death, at Napa City; caused primarily by shock, and brooding over the misfortunes she had met on the bank of the Humboldt River.

    Mrs. Nancy Holloway, 1857 It is difficult to believe that a woman, any woman—or any man—could, in a state of consciousness, endure such torture as was inflicted upon Mrs. Holloway, and refrain from disclosing to her tormentors that she was alive. But that she did so endure was her positive statement, and this was indisputably corroborated by evidences found by those who arrived at the scene less than an hour after the event.

    Through the kindness of Mr. William Holloway, of Fairfax, Missouri, there is presented here a picture of Mrs. Nancy Holloway, wife of Smith Holloway. The photograph was taken in California, shortly after the attack described.

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  • 12/11/10--01:44: The Asay "F.A."
  • F.A. Snyder Store Lovell, Wyoming

    Story of An Unusual Piece of Furniture
     by Joy Marostica

    Sitting inside the front door of the Asay household in all its glory was the "F.A." When lifting the lid of this - thing - one could find hats, mittens, scarves, sweaters and odds and ends that had no reason for being there.
     This piece of "furniture" was a direct result of Delbert's deals with F.A. Snyder, proprietor of the general store. Fred Snyder was a large man with a handle-bar mustache. He waited on customers in his bare feet and with a friendly smile welcomed one and all to his store. Fred liked to sing to his customers; "That Old Brown Coat On Me" was his favorite song; if he wasn't humming it, he was singing it.

    His store was not the typical business with jars of this and bolts of that neatly arranged. This was pure chaos... clothing was draped over cans of honey, toys displayed among the tools, candy jars squeezed in between boots and hats, but no one seemed to mind. It was a real experience to wander through F.A.'s "displays".

    The Asay children often brought in eggs to exchange for flour, sugar, and other needs, and on rare occasions Delila allowed them to trade for his delicious old fashioned chocolates. Most people charged or traded and if a bill was paid Fred's reward was a sack of candy.

    When F.A. Snyder had a sale, Delbert would often buy it all - bringing home baskets of items to be shared with everyone. Friends and neighbors would drop in at the Asays to try on shoes for school or pick up other things from Delbert's boxes of bargains.

    His children were still laughing about the time he paid 50cents for an interesting box of something. They excitedly crowded around their Papa and helped tear off the pretty paper. To their surprise they discovered nothing but men’s' old fashioned stiff white collars!


    It was Delila who first noticed the possibilities of the tall, oblong box with the hinged lid. Delbert had proudly brought it home full of one of F.A.'s latest sales, and when it was empty Delila placed the container by the door where it quickly became a "Fiber McGee's closet." It remained there for many years and kept Delila's home free from clutter. Grandchildren also enjoyed it finding its' top just the right height for sitting on to look out the window.

    Delbert gave this, monstrosity to some or beloved piece of furniture to others, its' name. When something was lost he'd say, "Go look in the "F.A." Other families in Lovell had their buffet, but the Asay children always felt a bit unique being the only ones with an "F.A."

    * Note: Photo is not the "F.A." If one exists please share.

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    Christmas in Lonely Cabin Brings Own Joy

    Mrs. Cleo B. Rogers of Pocatello continues her story of the four youths of Oxford, Idaho who were snowbound in a lonely cabin in Round Valley, Cassia County, in the winter of '65 (1865).  John Boyce and his wife, Aunt Polly, had brought the boys to the cabin to feed the sheep wintered there and to the forest to watch the traps for fur bearing animals, the pelts of which were sold to the traders of Ross Fork agency.
    ***************
    That evening Mr. Boyce sat warming his feet at the fireplace to take out the numbness.  He explained, "I must start back before daylight in the morning.  Your mother is not at all well.  Must not lose any time if we are to get a load of provisions back here before the snow flies.  Chief Arimo says, 'Early winter, much snow wagon road,' and I believe he knows.  Your ma thinks David should go back with me and let Albert stay here till next trip, when we bring the grub and shoes."

    "Docky, think you'd like that?" smiled the older brother, John.

    "Better than anything in all the world," answered the small boy.

    Mr. Boyce and David drove away before sunrise the next morning and the four boys who remained watched the wagon as it formed another silhouette, this time against the red, red sky.

    Three days after David and his father had gone back to Smithfield, Calvin and John, jr., came back into the cabin after doing their chores.

    "Oho, you like snow men," shouted Albert.

    The open fire sizzled and sputtered its protest as the boys shook their neuples and scarfs, making them ready to hang on the wooden pegs above the fireplace.  It had snowed all night and was still snowing.  Already over a foot had fallen.

    "We're snowed in," exclaimed Cal, as stood before the fire in the Round Valley cabin.  It was a serious situation and he heaved a deep sigh.  "Oh, well, the folks had time to get to Smithfield, and they wouldn't be starting back until this morning.  They are all right."

    As John stood liberally rubbing the home-made soap over his hands, he raised himself to his full height and said with a grin, "And we are all right -- plenty of company, too.  Did all of you hear the concert last night?  Sounded like it was about 200 strong.  Think we can count on coyote serenades all winter.  Then we have neighbors -- Ross Fork, only about 70 miles away.  Also more neighbors and George's wife, just a stone's throw, 24 miles or so across to Franklin."

    Through the corner of his eye John saw that his little brother was having a hard time to keep his chin from quivering, as he thought of what the words 'snowed in' meant.

    "Albert Boyce!"  John began, but changed his tactics.  "Say, little doctor, I can beat you in a game of mumble peg.  Three to one you can't beat me.  George isn't quite ready for us to eat."

    They knelt on the hard-packed floor and tried to play the game but Albert's thoughts wandered.

    "John," he ventured in soft tones, "did you see how pa looked like he could almost cry when he said, 'Be good boys.'?  Then he rode over the same road they took when ma and pa went, did you look and see the sky was all red, John?'  The little boy hitched along the floor to be neared his beloved brother.  "Did you hear how his voice shook when he said it again, 'Be good boys'?"

    "One way to be good is to get up to this breakfast before those cream biscuits are cold," said the cook.

    After the delicious breakfast, Calvin spoke emphathically.  "Snow or no snow, must be out looking after the traps.  Who wants to go?"

    Everyone shouted "I!"  So the dishes and food were left on the table, nor did anyone remember to put out the cat.  (Not one of the boys could ever again 'abide a cat.'  But that has nothing to do with this story.)

    Late in the afternoon the boys returned.  They entered the cabin and John said, "How long do you think that course is, Cal?"

    Calvin hesitated.  "If we had only counted the pieces of poisoned meat I could tell you to the very foot.  Every piece of meat is 50 feet apart.  I have stepped off 50-foot lengths so often for pa I do it without thinking.  However, each piece is within sight of the cabin.  By pushing out a length of chinking from between the logs we can watch the fun.  Dragging that leg of spoiled mutton around the course with us will make every wolf and coyote stop and take notice.

    True enough, before sundown a coyote came sniffing along.  He sniffed the first bait, then passed to the second, sniffed and then came back to the first.  The boys looking through the chink hole snickered.  The unsuspecting animal followed the scent of the mutton leg beyond the second bait, which he had returned to and eaten.  Then with his characteristic gliding, slinking gait, he started to trot along.

    "Gobbles them up line and sinker, doesn't he Cal?" whispered the little boy as he slid his hand into his big brother's large palm.  When the light footed coyote had gone around the whole circle and stood wondering which way he wanted to go next, the boys in the cabin felt disappointed and amazed.  "Great Scotland up a tree, we've used the wrong bait!" muttered Calvin.

    Quickly he reached for the gun.  He thrust the muzzle through the chinking space, took careful aim and fired.  The coyote dropped dead.

    Pell mell, the boys scurried through the door, each wanting to be the first to see where the bullet hit.  There was not a mark.  The shot had missed.  The poisoned bait had taken effect and the shock of hearing the rifle report had caused instant death.

    Thus the time passed.  Much snow fell and the boys did their daily chores and put in the time the best they could.

    They had counted the days till Christmas.  Albert thought it would never come.  He hung up his stockings night after night even though Cal told him it was too soon.  He felt sure that Santa Clause had passed by.  Christmas morning he found his mistake, when in his stocking, though very much mended with big stitches, he found many gifts; a top made from a spool ma had left, a cart made of log ends sawed true for wheels, a bow and arrow from birch willows and a checkerboard made smooth by stretching rawhide over a slab, and squares painted with dried crushed berries.  No wonder there had always been whittlings around the south side of the cabin.  Much of the carpenter work had been done there.  The boys had also made gifts for the house: rolling pins, potato mashers and other things.


    _____________________________________________
    Source: From the April 19, 1936 issue of "The Idaho Sunday Statesman", found in the Boyce Histories

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  • 01/01/11--01:10: The Garden
  • 

    But if ye are prepared
    ye shall not fear. D&C 38:30
    The prophets' counsel to acquire a year's supply of food was followed to the letter by my grandparents.  Delila spent many hours filling canning jars with pickles, green beans, beets, tomatoes, and all the wonderful produce harvested from her large garden.

    We grandchildren delighted in hiding among the peas, gorging on their delectable sweetness, and there was nothing better than Grandma's corn on the cob - cooked 5 minutes after it was picked.
    _____________________________________
    Source:  Till We Meet Again by Joy Marostica

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  • 01/01/11--01:16: Lumpy Dick
  • Lumpy Dick
    Grandmother's youngest son, Calvin, will never forget "lumpy dick".  When he was in the fourth grade the teacher asked the children what they had for breakfast.  Most everyone reported bacon and eggs, or cereal and orange juice.  But when it came Calvin's turn he proudly said, "lumpy dick"... there was shocked silence ... then snickers.  Calvin felt he needed to explain, so he said, "Yeh, lumpy dick, right Frank? right Dwight, right Pee Wee?  You know how we always have lumpy dick at our house!"

    Delila's Lumpy Dick Recipe
    Lumpy Dick -  "Dick" is boiled pudding
    3 qt. rich milk
    6 cups flour
    1 tsp. salt
    3 cups cream
    Heat milk to boiling - stir continuously
    Mix flour, salt, and cream to pie dough consistency
    add by handfuls to hot milk until it thickens.
    Stir constantly.
    Dish up in bowls, sprinkle with sugar,
    serve with milk. Delicious!
    _____________________________________
    Source:  Till We Meet Again, by Joy Marostica

    More Lumpy Dick Recipes:

    Heat milk scalding hot--in a large pan. In a bowl beat an egg with a fork a few moments then add some sugar, pinch of salt & grated nutmeg, flour enough to use up the egg--rub between your hands till about like rice, then stir into the hot milk cook a few moments and serve with milk or cream.


    I found this conversation about "Lumpy Dick" on the internet:   My grandfather was a child of the youngest of several polygamist wives. My grandmother always felt that his family had been on the short end of the stick and lamented that "Poor Grandpa was raised on nothing but burnt toast and lumpy dick." I never learned just what lumpy dick was. When I met my husband and he began to tell me things 'pioneerish', I asked him if he knew what lumpy dick was. "Oh, you mean flour mush [as it was called in his family]. Sure, I'll make you some." We enjoy it a great deal and have it often to celebrate our heritage and appreciate the sacrifices. Once we served it to friends after having told that when there wasn't much to eat, but the cow was still giving milk and the chickens were laying an egg or two a day and there was still a little flour in the bottom of the barrel, mother would fix lumpy dick to fill her poor babies' tummies. Our friend spooned some lumpy dick onto his plate and exclaimed, "Oh, gribble-grabbles!" That is what his family of Oregon pioneers had called it and he ate with relish. This is the recipe my mother-in-law taught to me:

    1 qt. milk (raw is best)
    1 tsp salt
    1 pat butter
    Heat milk, with salt and butter in a heavy pan. When the butter melts, add:
    1 egg, lightly beaten
    1 cup flour
    Mix the flour into the egg and work with fork or fingers until crumbly. Grab a handful and dribble it into the hot milk through your fingers, rubbing out any big lumps. Add all of the egg/flour mixture and any flour from the bottom of the bowl. Stirring constantly, bring the mixture to a boil and boil for 3 minutes. Serve on a dinner plate, dotted with butter, sprinkled with brown sugar and cinnamon. Pour more milk around the edge of the plate.
    This recipe comes from Mink Creek, Franklin County, Idaho. (Franklin County is where the Marshall and Boice/Boyce families settled, and Grandmother Asay's birth place.)
     


    President Ezra Taft Benson

    
    President Benson's Signature
     From 'Feasting' with the Prophets:
    Recalling the thrifty days of his childhood, President Benson said, "We would come into the kitchen and get the aroma of baking bread, then we would persuade mother to let us take the top off the loaf, put butter on it and consume it in our hands."

    Although President Benson's mother baked a dozen loaves at a time, she sometimes ran out of bread and would buy a loaf. The store-bought bread, said President Benson's father, tasted "like cotton." If she didn't buy a loaf to stretch the family's bread supply, she would make what the family called Lumpy Dick by stirring whole wheat flour into hot milk and it would make into a consistency of pudding. She would sometimes put cinnamon and maybe a little sugar on top of it and pour cold milk over it. "This would be our supper, and it was delicious," recalled President Benson.
    Source:  'Feasting' with the Prophets by Ann Whiting Allen, Deseret News Food Editor published: Saturday, Oct 1, 1988

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  • 01/27/11--19:25: The Pearls
  • 

    Story told by Joy Marostica in "Till We Meet Again.

    Calvin and Helen, my grandparent's youngest children, were our most frequent baby sitters, and I enjoyed being part of their many teen age activities.  To watch Calvin shoot baskets and Helen lead the cheers was so exciting!

    One Christmas Calvin gave his sister a very special present - a necklace of imitation pearls.  On the night of the biggest basketball game of the season Helen put them on over her cheerleading sweater, so Calvin could see how pleased she was with his gift.

    Calvin wanted the whole family to see him play in this important event.  I remember climbing to the balcony of the Lovell gymnasium with Grandma and Grandpa so we could have the best view.

    The game turned out to be extremely exciting, but I couldn't keep my eyes off Aunt Helen, who was doing a spectacular job in her cheer leading.

    Suddenly to my horror, little white balls were rolling from Helen's neck all over the basketball floor.  I'm sure no one else knew where they were coming from ... except Calvin.  The referee blew his whistle, and then to my relief fans, players, and referees were helping Calvin as they scrambled around picking up the elusive pearls.  My chagrin turned into amusement, and my cousins and I have never laughed so hard.

    As I reflect upon the situation, now, I have great respect for Calvin, as he took charge.  Accepting the retrieved pearls, he walked unashamedly over to the red faced Helen.  With the eyes of the entire crowd upon them, he again gave her his "gift."  I'm sure rather than feeling embarrassed Grandma was very proud of his composure.

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  • 02/05/11--00:31: Terrible Winter of 1865
  • 
    Round Valley Idaho
    Mrs. Cloe B. Rogers continues her story of the snow bound boys in Round Valley that terrible winter of 1865. Continuation of story of boys Christmas in lonely cabin posted December 2010.

    (Double Click on Images to Enlarge)

     








     




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    Round Valley Idaho

    Mrs. Cloe B. Rogers continues her story of the snow bound boys in Round Valley that terrible winter of 1865. Continuation of story of boys Christmas in lonely cabin posted December 2010, and tragic death of George Barzee and John Boice February 1865.

    (Double Click on Images to Enlarge)



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  • 04/26/11--17:29: Buck up Little Buckaroo
  • 

    Wyoming State Logo Bucking Bronco
     I always really liked the brown and gold Wyoming License Plate with the dominate bucking horse silhoutte.  You can always tell what county a car is from in Wyoming because the associated county number was prominately displayed on the far left.  The Big Horn Basin County number is "9".  Mother took some pride in knowing all the counties and their associated numbers in the State. 


    Did you ever wonder where the Logo originated?  Apparently it dates back to World War I when used by Wyoming troops.  It is supposedly based on a real horse and rider.   The horse, "Steamboat," competed in rodeos between 1901 and 1914 when he became infected with blood poisoning as a result of contact with a barbed wire fence during a thunderstorm.

    One of my brother Rick's favorite comments when things are kinda tough is, "Buck up, little Buckaroo".  It seems to interject an element of courage into a situation.   A good quote to remember in challenging times.  Grandma would agree.

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  • 05/21/11--13:26: Two Indian Stories
  • Martin Calvin Boyce
    
    Grandma Asay told this story to Kenny Blackburn, age 5, October 26, 1969. 
    No changes have been made, type as originally written:

    When my father was just a young boy possibly 9 years old the cattle from the fort had been driven down on the willow bottom and there was grass there that they could find plenty to eat and grandfather had a lovely big cow and she had been sent down to remain there until she found her little calf.  My father was just a little boy and grandfather said, "Calvin, go get on the workhorse and go down and see if you can find her.  If you can and she hasn't found her little calf just leave her there and come on back without her."   So father went out and looked at the workhorse and then he looked at the little race mare.  He had prayed to Heavenly father to guide him to do the right thing so that he would be sure to get back home.  So he looked at the race mare and put the bridle on her and fixed her up and he got on her back and away he went to find that cow.  He went down on the willow bottom and the trail wound around and around the willows.  He just kept going and going.  Finally he found the great big lovely cow and she hadn't found her little calf yet so he turned around and started back.  He hadn't gone far when his attention was drawn behind him.  He looked and there were 5 big Indian men on horses whipping those horses trying to catch father.  Father just kicked the little mare in the ribs and loosened the reins and let her go.  She took off just like that.  He had presence of mind to know that he didn't dare to let her run too long or she would loose her wind and he had about 5 miles to go.  So when he seen he was ahead of them far enough he would pull the reins in and slow her down.  And that is what he did.  He would hold her down until he saw that they were gaining on him and then he would let her go.  He would run real fast for a little ways and the he would hold her down again.  The Indians came just as fast as they could.  As they got in sight of the fort the Indians could see that they could not catch him and every one fired a shot at him.  He could hear the bullets whizzing past him on each side of his head, but not a one hit him.  They swung the big gate open and my daddy rode through into the fort and his life was spared.  It was only a few days before that that the Indians caught two of the herdsboys, about the age of 10 and 14, down on the willow bottom and the Indians took one of the boys and unjointed every joint in his body.  They took the other boy and skinned him just like they would an elk or something.  And that was what frightened my daddy so, but daddy got home alright, but the two blessed boys died.

    Publisher's Note:  Based on the approximate age of Martin Calvin, this incident must have occured either at Fort Palmyria or the fort in Spanish Fork, Utah.   Families from the Palmyria Fort were encouraged to move into the Fort at Spanish Fork when hostilities between the pioneers and Indians increased around 1852.  Since it was so far for Martin Calvin to travel to find the cow, they must have been in the Spanish Fork fort.
    -------------------------

    This story is about Christianna Dolbell Riding, daughter of Christopher Lister Riding and Lisa, when she was 18 months old. It happened March 25, 1859, in Santa Clair, Utah. 
    
    Christianna Dolbell Riding


    Little Christianna had been ill and as it was rather hot in the house, her father laid her on a quilt under the boughrey. The boughrey was a frame porch affair covered with boughs or vines which was cooler than in the house.

    Her parents checked her every so often to make sure that she was alright; however, this one time they checked just a little too late and their baby was gone! Christopher ran outside and looked all around. In the distance he could see two figures galloping on horseback just going up over a hill. It appeared that one was carrying something cradled in his arms. He quickly sounded the alarm and soon a dozen men answered the alarm and gave chase. They chased the two for about 8 miles before finally catching up with them and baby Christianna. They were just outside the Indian camp and had they gotten to camp they probably never would have seen the baby again.

    The men asked why the Indians had stolen the baby and they answered "To scare white squaw." The men were so angry that they whipped the two Indian men good and told them to let that be a lesson. If it ever happened again they would kill them. The men returned home safely with little Christianna. When they returned to the house they discovered a new baby brother waiting to greet Christianna and her father Christopher. Her mother said this was the happiest day of her life.

    They later discovered that that same day a little Heap's girl had been stolen and they never found her. It was a custom for the Indians to steal white baby girls and raise them as Indians. They would later become wives for the chief's sons.

    
    

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  • 05/22/11--22:51: Story of Bill and Carl
  • Five-Springs Falls
    Big Horn Mountains Wyoming

    In 1936 money was short for everyone nationwide.  Family vacations were not in the plans for many.  However, my Grandparents decided to call their family together for an over-night on the Big Horn Mountain at the Five Springs Saw Mill that held so many dear memories from their early married life.

    Although I was only 5 years old the events of this family 'mini vacation' in the mountains will always hold a special place in my reservoir of memories. 
    
    Flowers on the Big Horns
    My cousins and I picked billiant mountain flowers; we waded in icy mountain streams and stood under the sparkling waterfall streams and stood under the sparkling waterfall as it cascaded down over jagged rocks.
    Five-Springs Falls
    Dinner was cooked over an old fashioned camp-fire; the mountain air had given us huge appetities.  Corn on the cob and hot dogs had never tasted so good. 

    We sat around the dying fire roasting marshmellows and singing all our favorite songs.  Then Grandma told us the story of "Bill and Carl."  It was the first time I'd heard it, and I will never forget that story as long as I live - perhaps it was the location where it was told - or the warm glow of the families' closeness that made it so memorable:

    Bill and Carl
    (as told by Grandma Asay)

    The story I'm about to tell you is true.  It happened to a family in Idaho when my mother was a young girl.

    A long time ago the little boys had to learn to work just like men.  They were taught to plow the fields, chop the wood, and drive the wagons just like their fathers.  Everyone worked so they could survive.

    Bill and Carl, ages 8 and 12, were to go with a group of men and boys to the canyon to get wood for winter and logs for building houses.  Their mother prepared a nice lunch box for them and their father helped hitch up the wagon.  The boys gathered their bedding and were soon ready for the journey.

    They were to meet the others at a certain place in the canyon, but as the boys reached the crossroads they weren't sure which fork to take.  Finally they gook the one that appeared to have the freshest tracks.  They headed their oxen up this canyon and rod all day going up and up.

    When evening came the oxen were tired and they hadn't found anybody; they were still all alone.  So they decided to make camp and wait for the others to catch up.  The oxen were unhooked and fed.  The boys then built a small fire, spread out their bedrolls and ate their lunches.

    Soon Bill said, "Carl, are you scared?"  Carl answered, "why no, of course not."  Bill said, "Do you think Ma and Pa will pray for us tonight?"  Carl convinced Bill that they would.  More times passed.  Bill said, "Carl, do you think Heavenly Father would hear us if we prayed to him?"  Carl assured him that He would and they knelt together by their dying fire praying to Heavenly Father that they would get home alright.  They thanked Him for the blessings that they had come that far safely.  They then prayed that the other group would soon catch up with them.

    Bill went right to sleep, but Carl lay there wide awake.  Suddenly a loud war hoop was heard, and two huge Indians, jumped out from behind the pine trees.  They quickly tied the boys' hands, picked up their guns and other equipment - and made them further and further up into the mountains.  Finally when they couldn't go another step, camp was made.  Though they were terrified Bill and Carl knew they must act brave. 

    During the night the boys were able to free themselves as the Indians slept.  They quietly found their guns, and twisted the oxens' tails until they got up and quickly headed right back the way they came. 

    After while they stopped and Carl climbed to a look-out point ... Bill was to shoot if the Indians showed up.  As Carl looked down into the valley below, he heard a gunshot.  Could it be the Indians?  He hurried back to find Bill clutching his gun, and there were drops of blood on the rocks.  Bill proudly told his big brother he had scared the Indians away.

    Horses were coming in the distance now, and the boys were so afraid it was more Indians, but as they got closer they recognized their father at the head!  He soon had his boys in his arms, and what tears of graitude were shed.

    A few years later the pioneers invited the Indians to their 24th of July Celebration.  As Bill and Carl stood by their father, an Indian walked up and began telling them how brave they were.  But it wasn't until he showed them the gash on his face where he had been nicked by Bill's bullet that they finally understood.  The Indian explained how they admired the 2 young boys for their bravery on the mountain that day years ago.

    ********************
    After Grandma's story we knelt in family prayer and slept out under the stars on old mattresses covered with heavy quilts.  How safe I felt with my parents on either side and all my strong uncles and grandparents to protect me from whatever unknowns the Big Horns had to offer ..... Indians and bears were my big concern!  But it was the elements that finally zapped us - a midnight shower complete with thunder and lightning sent us scurrying for shelter in cars, under trucks, and trees.  To me this made the whole thing an exciting adventure to be brought out and savored from my treasure chest of childhood memories in the years to come.
    __________________________________
    Source: "Till We Meet Again" by Joy Marostica

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  • 05/30/11--16:10: Cherokee Morning Song
  • 
    Chief Washakie Northern Shoshone
    
    


     The Holy Bible and The Book of Mormon (Another Testament of Jesus Christ)
    
    The Stick of Judah and the Stick of Joseph
     
    The world's oldest multiple-page book - in the lost Etruscan language - has gone on display in Bulgaria's National History Museum in Sofia. And something about that book has particular interest for Latter-day Saints. As is evident from the photograph, this book was created on metal plates that are bound together with metal rings similar to the original source documents that became the Book of Mormon.

    The book of Mormon tells of the people who came to the America's in 600 B.C.  The Book of Mormon was translated from plates made of gold, held together by three metal rings.   The original plates were written in  reformed Egyptian characters by prophets living in the Western Hemisphere between 600 BC and 421 AD. 
    
    Found in Hebrew Cave
    

    Los Lunas Stone - New Mexico
    Thirty- five miles south of Albuquerque, New Mexico is what is known as the Los Lunas Stone.  An  80-ton boulder engraved with the Ten Commandments in Hebrew centuries ago.  The Hebrew form was used for an approximate one thousand-year period, ending about 500 BC.  Harvard scholar, Robert Pfeiffer, and expert in Semitic languages, concluded that the mysterious inscription was written in a form of Paleo-Hebrew and paraphrased the Ten Commandments.  "I am Yahweh thy God who brought thee out of the land. There shall not be unto them other gods before Me."  Historian Steven M. Collins points out that the "Las Lunas Stone" inscription in archaic Hebrew was written in the Hebew letters of the style of the Moabite Stone, dated to about 1,000 B.C.  Interestingly, beside the boulder is a Tamarisk, a tree species native to the Middle East and supposedly the type of tree planted by Abraham in Beersheba when he called upon the name of the Lord.

    In 1885, missionaries went to the Wind River Shoshone Indians carrying a Book of Mormon and a letter of friendship from Brigham Young.  Chief Washakie accepted the gifts, telling his subchiefs that their "Father above the clouds" told Brigham Young to send the missionaries.  This was the beginning of a long friendship between Washakie and the Latter-day Saints.
    
    Chief Washakie with Council 1883-1885
    
    A great-great grandson of Chief Washakie, told my brother Rick the following (it is paraphrased according to my memory). When the Book of Mormon was first introduced to Chief Washakie , he did not believe it.   The Book was passed around the circle and the third time the Book of Mormon passed around the tipi, and hearing what it contained, Chief Washakie declared that it was true.   He told those present that they were once a great nation.  He recognized the history of his people as contained in the Book of Mormon and believed it to be true.

    Many artifacts have been found in America that were written in an  ancient Hebrew text.  One was stored in the Smithsonian museum, and had been thought to be an ancient American Indian writing because it had been found in "Indian country".  However, when helping move some boxes, this item was "rediscovered" by a gentleman fluent in ancient languages, and discovered the artifact had been mounted upside down.  It was not ancient American Indian, but rather, Ancient Hebrew. 

    Cherokee Morning Song

    We n' de ya ho, We n' de ya ho,
    We n' de ya, We n' de ya Ho ho ho ho,
    He ya ho, He ya ho, Ya ya ya

    Translation - We n' de ya ho

    Freely translated: "A we n'" (I am), "de" (of), "Yauh" --the-- (Great Spirit), "Ho" (it is so).

    Written as: A we n' de Yauh ho (I am of the Great Spirit, Ho!).

    This language stems from very ancient Cherokee

    Arranged by Rita Coolidge and Robbie Robertson.

    Translation by David Michael Wolfe who is an Eastern Virginia Cherokee and a cultural historian. Thanks to Maurizio Orlando for providing the translation.

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    With grateful and loving memory of Sarah Goode Marshall (35), Lavina (12), Selena (10), Tryphena (8), Louisa (6), George (4) and Sarah Ann (2), and Sarah's sister Mariah Goode.  Sarah, a widow with six small children, had a deep desire to "Come to Zion" to be with the Saints.  She worked two years making kid gloves and as a ladies maid to afford the journey from England to America, and to purchase a handcart and the necessary supplies to join the handcart company.  Sarah and her young family were members of the first Handcart Company, led by Captain Edmund Ellsworth.   Lavina, the eldest and only 12 years of age, helped her mother pull the handcart.  Selena, age 10 was in charge of making sure the children were dressed and fed for the day, and to watch over them.  Selena shared her meager food rations with her younger siblings to encourage them along, and she prayed that she "would not feel the pangs of hunger" so she would be able to do so.   Tryphena (8), frightened the group when she became seperated from the company after falling asleep along the trail.  She found her way back, following the lights of the campfires.  Selena, Tryphena, Louisa (6), and George (4) walked barefooted all or most of the 1400 mile journey.  Sarah (2) was the only one  allowed to ride in the handcart.   

    As the journey neared its end, the company camped, making repairs to the handcarts, and waiting for the 2nd handcart company to join before entering the Salt Lake Valley together midst a great celebration that was planned.  It was easier for Sarah and the children to start out earlier as the heat of the day made traveling much more difficult.  After receiving permission to leave the company for an earlier start, Sarah dressed the children in their best in preparation for entering the Valley.  When they tried to put their shoes on, they found they would no longer fit.  They pulled their handcart, and were on the crest of a hill when they saw riders in the distance shouting and waving their hats.  The frightened children huddled around their mother, crying.  They all were afraid these men might be Indians.  As the riders got closer, they realized they were frightening the little band of travelers.  They quieted their shouting and rode up to the small family.  They told Sarah they were scouts sent by Brigham Young to bring back news of the whereabouts of the company.  A couple of the riders picked up the smaller children and put them on their horses to ride back to Salt Lake with their report, while the other riders rode on to the main body of the Handcart Company. 

    They took the children to a place that may have been a Relief Society building.  One of the women was holding Louisa on her lap, and was sobbing as she saw the skin hanging from her little arms as the sunlight shone through the window.  Another of the children, saw some tomatoes ripening on the window sill.  They were the most beautiful thing the children had ever seen.  The women, noticing their interest, asked if the child would like one, and of course they nodded yes.  One of the ladies encouraged the children to take a bite, "It's good!"  However, to the children, the tomato was far better to look at than to eat.

    The rest of the Handcart Company came in with great pomp and circumstance, a band and parade and "the first to enter" were heralded and undoubtedly greeted by Brother Brigham and other dignitaries.  The little group that had arrived a day earlier, arrived in a much quieter fashion, but they did arrive.

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    Ute Mother and Papoose 1893
    
    On October 26, 1968, Delila Boice Asay related the following Indian and Pioneer stories to Sharon G. Blackburn.  They have been compiled and typed as near to the exact words as possible that Grandma used for the enjoyment of those who will read them.  All of the stories are written about the actual happenings of relatives and friends of Grandma Asay.

    This is a story about Grandma Delila Asay's grandparents, Mary Ann Barzee Boice, and John Boice.  It took place at Spanish Fork, Utah, in 1854, the year that "Uncle Bert" was born.

    Mary Ann Barzee Boice
    Mary Ann Barzee Boice and John Boice were called to Spanish Fork, Utah, by President Brigham Young to start a settlement there.  Because Grandma Barzee spoke the Indian language she could communicate better and be friends to the Indians.  She had been asked to be an interpreter between the pioneers and Indians.  One day in 1854 a young Indian buck came and said to Grandma Barzee, "My squaw died and I have no one to help me.  You take care of my baby?"  She said that she would have to talk to her husband about this and instructed him to come back at noon for his answer.  Since the Indians often times pulled tricks she was afraid maybe this was a trick.  When he left she went straight to her husband and told him the incident.  He told her to go see Bishop Markham and "We will do just as he says".  The bishop told her to take the baby and she told him that she hesitated to because she already had 5 children and the one baby "Uncle Bert" was just about a month older than this Indian baby.  The bishop said "Take the baby and raise it and someday you will be blessed for doing so."

    When the sun was high in the sky at noon, the Indian came back with the baby to hear the answer.  Grandma told him that she would take the baby and for him to go and bring all that his squaw had prepared for the baby.  Of course this was a meager amount of things.  She prepared some warm water on the stove and bathed the baby and scrubbed it clean.  She also cleaned the few clothes that it had.  The family simply fell in love with it.  Grandma nursed both babies and raised them as twins.  The Indian father made regular trips to check on his baby.

    After awhile both babies fell ill.  Uncle Bert seemed to respond to the medicine that she was giving them but the baby girl got worse each day.  Finally the baby Indian died and the father said that her mother wanted her to be with her.  The church prepared a funeral for the baby just as though it was one of their own, and they invited all the Indians to come to the funeral.  So many Indians came that there was an overflow crowd.  After the funeral the father disappeared and no one knew where he had gone to.

    John Boice

    After awhile the Boice family was called by President Brigham Young to go up to Camos, Utah, to make a new settlement.  This is just out from Heber City.  Two families prepared to go to the new settlement.  When they stopped for the night they put the animals to graze.  Next morning they hitched up to leave and found themselves surrounded by Indians.  John told the Chief that they were just friends and didn't come to harm them but the Chief said, "No, you come and fish all the fish from the streams and use up all the Indian food."  John turned to Mary Ann to tell them that they were friends.  When it looked like all was useless one Indian broke from the crowd of Indians and rode right up before the Chief.  He said, "Chief, these people are friends.  They took my baby to raise when my squaw died.  Please let them go free."  He even got on his knees and begged the chief.  The chief decided to let them go but first they had to form a treaty and give the Indians a sack of flour and a beef.

    After the Indians rode off, John got on his horse and rode to President Brigham Young in Salt Lake and told him what had happened.  Brigham Young instructed them to come back to Spanish Fork, that it was not yet time for a settlement there and that they didn't want any trouble with the Indians.

    *************************

    Once while Grandma Asay was in Mesa, Arizona, a lady asked her if she knew alot about Wyoming history.  When Grandma said that she didn't know so awfully much this lady explained that on September 26, 1886, thirteen men from a freight outfit were taking supplies to Salt Lake City.  They camped at the head of Antelope Creek on South Pass.  A freak Wyoming storm came up and during the night all thirteen men were frozen to death and so were some of the oxen.  All the men were burried in one grave.  One of the thirteen men was this lady's grandfather.


    ________________________________
    Source:  History 27a 
    Grandmother Asay's Book of Remembernce

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  • 12/07/13--20:38: A Toll of Six


  • Mendenhall gravesite
    Dayton, Franklin, Idaho

    This story was sent to me a couple weeks ago by a dear cousin, Ella Calhoun.  It is a most sobering story of pioneer life, one I had never heard before, although Calvin Boyce/Boice is my great-grandfather.  The strength and endurance of these great pioneers is never to be underestimated.  Indeed we believe, Families are Forever.

    ***************
     
    As you travel along Highway 86 in Franklin Co., Idaho, and come to a bridge on the West Cache Canal, stop.  There, on a sagebrush hill above you, you will see an abandoned cemetery.  A few crude headstones stand out in the bunch grass and wild sunflowers, marking the graves of some of the noble men, women and children who settled in the valley along Bear River.
     
    The George Mendenhall family, pioneers of 1852, was among these hardy pioneers.  They built a log house at the foot of the little hill, had a family of six and were happy among relatives and friends.  They lived a typical frontier life-- plowing, reaping, weaving and spinning, and trusted in the Lord for his protecting care.  There was no need for a sheriff or a lawyer among this little group along the river bottom, then known as Franklin Meadows; a man's word was his bond, and if a neighbor needed help, it was freely given with no thought of getting something in return.
     
    The long winter months passed by, and then on the last of March, with the return of spring, diphtheria broke out.  The Mendenhalls were stricken.  "George," called a neighbor from a safe distance outside the house.  George appeared at the door and the neighbor continued, "How many are down with diphtheria to day?"  George answered in melancholy tones, "there are two that are very sick.  We were up all night with Valerie and now Leslie has taken a turn for the worse."  "Is there anything we can bring you?"  "Yes, the wood is getting low, burning a fire night and day, and we need a gallon of kerosene before night."  The neighbor, backing away a step each time she spoke, called, "I'll bring it."  Horror was on her face as she thought of diphtheria germs that might be flying about the yard, and as for the wood she'd have her husband go to the hills and cut some, not in George's yard.  In late afternoon, a sister put a package of food over the fence, and was almost out of hearing distance before she dared call the family.  As George came out to get the package, she ran faster than if he had aimed a six-shooter at her.  This was diphtheria and deadly germs were lurking everywhere.  "Valerie and Leslie are worse" he called as he took the package of bread and dried apples into the house.
     
    The word spread to Dayton, a little town three miles west, that the Mendenhall children were dying.  This was more than the kind heart of Aunt Sarah Phillips could stand.   Aunt Sarah was a widow with a large family but she was blessed with a divine touch of healing, and never refused to help anyone who needed her.  "Lizzie," she called to her daughter, "the two Mendenhall children and dying.  I feel I must go to them.  I know the Lord will spare me from the disease and from bringing it home to my children.  Will you take care of things while I am gone?"  "Yes, mother," replied the faithful Lizzie, "and I'll pray for you an the Mendenhalls."  Aunt Sarah alighted from a wagon in front of the Mendenhall home which brought tears of relief and joy to the family.  Help had come at last!  She tied on her white waist apron and began to work swabbing the swollen throats with drops of turpentine, and trying to get the two little ones to swallow oil and sugar.  Dark-haired Leslie, just five years old, grew more limp and blue each hour.  There was no time to be lost, but what could they do? With a final weak, choking spell, he lay lifeless in his mother's arms.  There was not time for tears; Valerie must be saved.  They worked tirelessly, but it was no use.  In a few hours Valerie, age seven, too had passed away.
     
    Aunt Sarah bathed the little bodies and laid them on some rough boards beside an open window.  Someone brought a sack of snow which was placed in bottles and put around the bodies to keep them cool until buried.  When Cal Boyce heard of the double tragedy, he said, "It aint right for a father to have to nail a coffin lid on his own children.  I'm going in and help them,"  and the next morning Cal was there.  The neighbors made a rough box big enough to hold the two little bodies, and Aunt Sarah and Brother Boyce wrapped them in blankets and laid them side by side.  Then they drove to the new cemetery on the hillside and buried them.
     
     
    Spring came early with all her natural beauty.  The willow trees along the river began to bud, and the hills grew fresh, bright green with June grass.  Then tragedy struck again at the Mendenhall home.  This time, three-year-old Leroy fell a victim to the disease, friends came again with wood, kerosene and put packages of food by the fence.  "Be of good cheer," they told the Mendenhalls, "Surely God will not ask more of you."  But man's judgment is not always correct.  On March 27th, Leroy died and buried beside his brother and sister.  Two weeks later, the wagon of George Mendenhall stopped again on the graveyard hill.  This time the father and Brother Boyce lifted a box out of the wagon containing the body of little George, age nine, and laid it to rest beside the other three children.  That left the Mendenhalls with only Elvira, age eleven and a babe in arms.  Through this crushing experience, these pioneers had no time for bitterness.  There was work to do, and there was always hope in the future. 
     
    Sustained by their religious belief that death is not the end, that we will meet our loved ones and live again, they were able to go on. After being tried like Job of old, God blessed these faithful parents with other children.  Of course, none ever took the place of those they had lost, but there was music and laughter again in the Mendenhall home.  Times grew more prosperous.  Hunger and want were driven out, but then diphtheria struck again.  There were doctors now, but nothing could be done to save two beautiful Mendenhall girls.  Zella was taken first, and in six more days, Elsie followed her.  This was in 1902.  Diphtheria had taken a toll of six from the Mendenhall family.
     
    I stood on the hill and looked at the graves of George and Celeste Ann Mendenhall and their children.  A feeling of reverence overwhelmed me as I thought of the courage and stamina of these people and in my heart I was proud to say that I live in a valley made possible by such pioneers as these.  Whenever I pass this cemetery, the headstones stand out like lonely, beacon lanterns, telling me to face my problems, and the future as bravely as they.
     
    ---Ann C. Hansen


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  • 07/29/17--02:08: The Little Race Mare



  • We were not far from our destination but there was time for just one more story.  "The Little Race Mare" was one we always enjoyed, and Grandma wanted to tell it in honor of all the Indians we would be seeing in the parade that day:
    Martin Calvin Boice

    When my father was just a young boy, possibly nine years old, the cattle from the fort had been driven down on the willow bottom.  There was grass there, and they would find plenty to eat.  Grandfather had a lovely, fat cow, and she had been sent there to remain until she found her little calf.

    My father was just a little boy but much was expected.  One morning Grandfather said, "Calvin, get on the workhorse and go see if you can find our cow.  If you can and she hasn't found her calf just leave her and come on back."

    Father went out and looked at the workhorse, and then he looked at the race mare.  Since the Indians had been on the rampage recently, and he knew of two boys who had been skinned alive; he felt the need to pray to Heavenly Father for guidance.  My Daddy knelt down and asked Heavenly Father which horse he should take.  Again he looked at the two horses, but this time he had a very strong feeling that he should put the bridle on the mare....he jumped on her back and away he went to find that cow.

    He went down on the willow bottom, and the trail wound around and around - just kept going and going.  Finally he found their cow, but she hadn't found her calf so he turned around and started back. 

    He hadn't gone far when his attention was drawn behind him.  As he looked back over his shoulder, he saw five big Indians whipping their horses and coming towards him a fast as they could!  Father just kicked the little mare in the ribs and loosened the reins and let her go.  She took off just like that.

    He had presence of mind to know that he didn't dare let her run too long or she would lose her wind, and he had five miles to go.  So when he saw he was ahead of them far enough he would pull the reins in and slow her down until he saw the Indians were gaining on him, and then he would let her go!

    The Indians were coming just as fast as they could, but as they got in sight of the fort, they could see they couldn't catch him.  They then began shooting their guns and the bullets whizzed past on each side of my fathers head, but not a one hit him.

    Story as told by Delila May Boice Asay about her father Martin Calvin Boice.

    Chief Walkara
    The Walker or Walkara Wars began in late 1853 and early 1854 with an
    incident in Springville.  Hostilities continued to increase and all settlers in
    Utah County area were in grave danger.  Based on the distance Calvin had
    to ride, I believe the family was living in the Spanish Fork Fort at the time of this
    incident. Probably sometime around 1856 when President Brigham Young
    admonished they leave Fort Palmyra and go to the larger, safer fort in Spanish Fork.
    They had been living in the Fort they had been called to help build located in
    Palmyra,which is west of Spanish Fork closer to Utah Lake. 

    Fort Palmyra


    ____________________________
    Till We Meet Again, by Joy Marostica
    page 61

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