CHAPTER XIX
IN THE VALLEY OF THE KEYA PAHA. THE RIVALS. THE VIGILANTS
Nothing is more essential to the upbuilding of the small western town,than a good agricultural territory, and this was where Calias found itsfirst handicap. When it had moved to its new location, scores ofinvestors had flocked to the town, paying the highest prices that hadever been paid for lots in a new country town, of its kind, in thecentral west.
Twenty-five miles south of the two towns, where a sand stream known asthe Keya Paha wends its way, is a fertile valley. It had been settledthirty years before by eastern people, who hauled their hogs and drovetheir cattle and sheep fifty miles in a southerly direction, to arailroad. Although the valley could not be surpassed in the productionof corn, wheat, oats, and alfalfa, the highlands on either side aregreat mountains of sand, which produce nothing but a long reddish grass,that stock will not eat after it reaches maturity, and which stands inbunches, with the sand blown from around its roots, to such an extentthat riding or driving over it is very difficult.
These hills rise to heights until they resemble the Sierras, and nearthe top, on the northwest slope of each, are cave-like holes where thestrong winds have blown a squeegee.
The wagon road to the railway on the south was sandy and made travelingover it slow and hazardous by the many pits and dunes. Therefore, it isto be seen, when the C. & R.W. pushed its line through Megory County,everything that had been going to the road on the south beganimmediately to come to the road on the north--where good hard roads madethe traveling much easier, and furthermore, it was only half thedistance.
Keya Paha County was about as lonely a place as I had ever seen. Afterthe sun went down, the coyotes from the adjacent sand hills, in a seriesof mournful howls, filled the air with a noise which echoed andre-echoed throughout the valley, like the music of so many far-awaysteam calliopes and filled me with a cold, creepy feeling. For thirtyyears these people had heard no other sound save the same monotonoushowls and saw only each other. The men went to Omaha occasionally withcattle, but the women and children knew little else but Keya PahaCounty.
During a trip into this valley the first winter I spent on thehomestead, in quest of seed wheat, I met and talked with families whohad children, in some instances twenty years of age, who had never seena colored man. Sometimes the little tads would run from me, screaming asthough they had met a lion or some other wild beast of the forest. Atone place where I stopped over night, a little girl about nine years ofage, looked at me with so much curiosity that I became amused, finallycoaxing her onto my knee. She continued to look hard at me, then meeklyreached up and touched my chin, looked into my eyes, and said: "Whydon't you wash your face?" When supper was ready went to the sink andwashed my face and hands; she watched me closely in the meanwhile, andwhen I was through, appeared to be vexed and with an expression as if tosay: "He has cleaned it thoroughly, but it is dirty still."
About twenty years previous to this time, or about ten years aftersettlement in this valley, the pioneers were continually robbed of muchof their young stock. Thieving outlaws kept up a continuous raid on theyoung cattle and colts, driving them onto the reservation, where theydisappeared. This continued for years, and it was said many of thecounty officials encouraged it, in a way, by delaying a trial, andinasmuch as the law and its procedure was very inadequate, on account ofthe county's remote location, the criminals were rarely punished.
After submitting to such until all reasonable patience had beenexhausted, the settlers formed "a vigilant committee," and meted outpunishment to the evil doers, who had become over-bold and were wellknown. After hanging a few, as well as whipping many, the vigilantersridded the county of rustlers, and lived in peace thereafter.
At the time the railroad was built to Megory there was little activityother than the common routine attending their existence. But with Megorytwenty-five miles to the north, and many of her former active andprosperous citizens living there; and while board walks and "shack"buildings still represented the Main Street, Megory was considered bythe people of the valley very much of a city, and a great place to pay avisit. Many had never seen or ridden on a railroad train, so Megorysounded in Keya Paha County as Chicago does to the down state peopleof Illinois.
Made a declaration that he would build a town. (page122.)]
The people of Keya Paha County had grown prosperous, however, and thestock shipments comprised many train loads, during an active market.Practically all this was coming to Megory when Calias began to loomprominent as a model little city.
I could see two distinct classes, or personages, in the leaders of thetwo towns. Beginning with Ernest Nicholson, the head of the firm ofNicholson Brothers and called by Megoryites "chief," "high mogul," the"big it" and "I am," in absolute control of Calias affairs; and theformer Keya Paha County sand rats--as they are sometimes called--runningMegory. The two contesting parties presented a contrast which interestedme.
The Nicholson Brothers were all college-bred boys, with a higherconception of things in general; were modern, free and up-to-date. WhileMegory's leaders were as modern as could be expected, but were simplyoutclassed in the style and perfection that the Calias bunch presented.Besides, the merchants and business men--in the "stock yards west ofMegory," as Calias was cartooned by a Megory editor, were much of thesame ilk. And referring to the cartoon, it pictured the editor of theCalias News as a braying jackass in a stock pen, which brought a greatlaugh from Megoryites, but who got it back, however, the next week bybeing pictured as a stagnant pond, with two Megory editors as a coupleof big bull-frogs. This had the effect of causing the town to begingrading the streets, putting in cement walks and gutters, for Megoryhad located in the beginning in an extremely bad place. The town waslocated in a low place, full of alkali spots, buffalo wallows underlaidwith hardpan, which caused the surface to hold water to such an extent,that, when rain continued to fall any length of time, the cellars andstreets stood in water.
But Megory had the start, with the largest and best territory, which hadby this time been developed into improved farms; the real farmer wasfast replacing the homesteader. It had the biggest and best banks.Regardless of all the efficiency of Calias, it appeared weak in itsbanking. Now a farmer could go to Nicholson Brothers, and get thelargest farm loan because the boys' father was president of an insurancecompany that made the loan, but the banks there were short in the supplyof time loans on stock security, but Calias' greatest disadvantage was,that directly west in Tipp County the Indians had taken their allotmentswithin seven or eight miles of the town, and there was hardly a quartersection to be homesteaded.
Now there was no doubt but that in the course of time the Indianallotments would be bought, whenever the government felt disposed togrant the Indian a patent; which under the laws is not supposed to beissued until the expiration of twenty-five years. People, however, wouldprobably lease the land, break it up and farm it; but that would notoccur until some future date, and Calias needed it at the present time.
A western town, in most instances, gets its boom in the beginning, forlater a dry rot seems an inevitable condition, and is likely toovertake it after the first excitement wears away. Resurrection is rare.These were the conditions that faced the town on the Little Crow, at thebeginning of the third year of settlement.