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    Anna Margaret Christy: Her Story
    Anna Margaret Christy: Her Story
    Anna Margaret Christy: Her Story
    Ebook218 pages2 hours

    Anna Margaret Christy: Her Story

    By Barbara Cecil

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    About this ebook

    "Anna's Story" is a history; a memoir, a tribute to my Grandmother, who was a very remarkable woman. Daughter of pioneer parents, a pioneer herself, as she at age 16 was teaching in a one-room schoolhouse which was nestled in a meadow on a seemingly endless prairie. Blessed with strength of mind, will and body, Anna managed to teach the rudiments of what her students would need to survive in a brutal world.

    At age 26, Anna met and married a man, Wilmot Fish, who would become the father of the family she had dreamed of; nine beautiful, intelligent children, who grew to be a credit to, her faith in God and devotion to learning and living productive lives. Enjoy!
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAuthorHouse
    Release dateOct 23, 2012
    ISBN9781477254950
    Anna Margaret Christy: Her Story
    Author

    Barbara Cecil

    My name is Barbara Cecil, one of Ruby's three daughters and one of Anna's grand children. I have known grandmother, Anna Margaret Christy Fish, all my life and loved her very much which is why i wrote her story. I know there are lessons in it for all women. I hope you find some wisdom here.

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      Book preview

      Anna Margaret Christy - Barbara Cecil

      Anna Margaret Christy

      Her Story

      Barbara Cecil

      US%26UKLogoB%26Wnew.ai

      AuthorHouse™

      1663 Liberty Drive

      Bloomington, IN 47403

      www.authorhouse.com

      Phone: 1-800-839-8640

      © 2012 by Barbara Cecil. All rights reserved.

      No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

      Published by AuthorHouse 10/12/2012

      ISBN: 978-1-4772-5497-4 (sc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4772-5496-7 (hc)

      ISBN: 978-1-4772-5495-0 (e)

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2012914823

      Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

      Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

      This book is printed on acid-free paper.

      Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

      CONTENTS

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter Fifteen

      Chapter Sixteen

      Chapter Seventeen

      Chapter Eighteen

      Chapter Nineteen

      Chapter Twenty

      Chapter Twenty-One

      Chapter Twenty-Two

      Chapter Twenty-Three

      Chapter Twenty-Four

      Chapter Twenty-Five

      Chapter Twenty-Six

      Chapter Twenty-Seven

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Chapter Twenty-Nine

      Chapter Thirty

      Chapter Thirty-One

      Chapter Thirty-Two

      Chapter Thirty-Three

      Chapter Thirty-Four

      Chapter Thirty-Five

      Chapter Thirty-Six

      Chapter Thirty-Seven

      Chapter Thirty-Eight

      Chapter Thirty-Nine

      Chapter Forty

      Chapter Forty-One

      Chapter Forty-Two

      Chapter Forty-Three

      Chapter Forty-Four

      Chapter Forty-Five

      Chapter Forty-Six

      Chapter Forty-Seven

      Chapter Forty-Eight

      Chapter Forty-Nine

      Chapter Fifty

      CHAPTER ONE

      Three year old Anna Margaret Christy came west from Illinois in one of two covered wagons with her parents, Henry Clay and Electa Corey Christy, and her twelve-year-old brother Erwin.

      Anna’s father, Henry Clay Christy, the youngest boy in his family, stood no chance of inheriting anything from his father’s estate so and was apprenticed to a blacksmith for ten years before setting out for the newly opened Nebraska Territory. He had become expert at putting iron rims on wooden wagon wheels for the rigors of rough trails. These wheels were in much demand for migrants moving west. The rugged ground tore the wooden rails down to the spokes in only a few miles and caused the wagons to be abandoned by the wayside. Henry was inventive, and whenever faced with a problem, he was determined to solve it.

      He had heard about the difficulty settlers had experienced with ordinary plows in trying to break the heavy sod, grown tough and thick through centuries of lying undisturbed and many times pounded by thousands of buffalo hooves over the years. Henry invented a new plow, one with extended handles that was easier to manipulate through the hardened sod. The owner of the blacksmith shop rewarded him with a royalty on each plow, and as the funds accumulated, Henry saved his hoard to take his family to the West. He had learned from Clancy Otto, who had just come home from exploring the western bank of the Missouri River with a group of young adventurers, that the land was fertile and cheap.

      Clancy told Henry, It looks like some of the richest soil on this whole continent is just waiting for someone to come and farm it. I’m going back. You better make plans to come with me. You can buy land for a dollar or two per acre. The railroad’s land companies are selling it. They want settlers, and now it’s easier for the government is moving the Indians to reservations.

      Once Henry decided he was going to farm land of his own, he spent six months planning and preparing for the trip. Henry studied the map in the tattered atlas he borrowed from his father. He determined that he could load his wagons on a steamboat, go downstream on the Illinois River to the confluence of the Missouri and Mississippi at St. Louis, and find a boat going upstream on the Missouri. He could land at one of the river towns south of the Platte River in the Nebraska Territory and find the land Clancy had told of. This would save his horses and his family much hard travel. He had enough cash put away to pay the fares and to buy a hundred acres of land, and hopefully enough left to hire some help to break the sod and plant. He inquired as to the fares, and determined when would be the best date to start to in order to be sure the ice was out and as well as to try to arrange to get to land in Nebraska early enough in the spring to get some crops in and, build a house and a barn.

      Electa, his wife, was all for the idea, for she could see that it had always been his dream to farm his own land. Henry, you have made a good plan. I can’t wait to get started.

      Electa, too, had done extensive preparations for the trip. Knowing that a house would have to be built once they arrived on the land they would buy, she packed the wagons very carefully, for she knew that, once they arrived, they would be living in the wagons until the house was built. Much of the excess was stashed in the second wagon with the plow and her precious piano.

      She had mounds of bedding and boxes of staples, including flour, sugar, spices, and some carefully packed glass jars of canned goods from the cellar. She had tea towels, skillets, teakettles, baking pans, and wash pans. Tubs of potatoes, carrots, and beets were packed in sand to preserve them until they could be used for seed and replaced with what would be grown in the summer. Heavy winter coats and extra clothes were worked in around the plow and piano.

      Electa had a special box that held her remedies, salts, vapors, salves, and soothing ointments, in anticipation of whatever maladies may afflict them when stores were far away and doctors even farther. Electa had no idea what to expect, but because she had heard tales, she was doing her best to anticipate what she would have to take with her.

      Three-year-old Anna enjoyed the ride on the steamboat. She ran about the deck, delighted to watch the water rushing by. She smiled on all she met and then scurried back to her mother.

      In St. Louis, they transferred the horses and the two wagons to another steamboat that was bound for the Missouri River and the Nebraska Territory, and after two days of fighting the current on the way upstream, they landed at a place everyone called Aspinwall, a small village on the western bank of the Missouri River where their wagons were rolled off; the horses brought up from the bowels of the boat and hitched to the tandem of wagons. They bid good-bye to all they had met, and were off on the last leg of their great adventure.

      Clancy was there to meet them. It was a great reunion of friends.

      Henry asked, How long have you been waiting here for us?

      Well, I came here two days ago, for I knew you had said you would be along soon. . .  It’s a Good thing you didn’t get here yesterday.

      How come? Henry asked.

      Well, I got into a poker game at that little hotel over there and lost everything I had in my pockets the first night. So when you didn’t make it in yesterday, I won it all back and then some last night. . .  Now, I’d better get out of town. . .  Come. Follow me, and I’ll take you to what is the greatest farmland in the territory.

      The land was only about six miles south of Aspinwall. as the Missouri River meandered south of the town, it also took a path to the east, so that when they reached the portion of land Clancy had chosen for them, they were about three miles from the water. . .  They were all impressed with the gently rolling hills, the small brook,fed from a spring at the top of the hill, The beautiful trees that were in first bud of the season.

      What kind of trees are these? Electa asked Clancy, admiring the unusual shape of the limbs and the very dark bark.

      You’re looking at black walnut trees. answered Clancy. They’re all over the place. The richest nuts and the most beautiful wood when it’s sawed, sanded, and finished.

      I want my staircase and railing to be made out of black walnut. Electa looked to see if Henry was listening.

      But Henry was sizing up the huge oak and elm trees that were farther down the hill.

      "Just the thing," he thought, "to build the biggest barn ever!."

      Clancy, I think we’ll first build a shed for the horses. I can fell trees for it, but what then?

      Clancy answered, Just use your sturdiest wagon to haul the trunks to the sawmill at Aspinwal, it’s only about three miles from here. . .  Several river towns along the Missouri: Brownville, Aspinwall, and Saint Deroin, which was named for its founder, a Frenchman who came out to fight the Indians for the government, or so I was told. He’s gone now. Folks said he fought one too many

      In the days that followed, the Christy family learned to live in one of the wagons while the other was used to haul logs to the sawmill and bring back the planks to build a shed for the horses and lumber for the barn and house, which would come last. This required using the tarp as as a lean-to connected to the wagon, learning to cook over a campfire, hauling water from the spring up the hill, and sleeping under the open sky, except when rain threatened they would move their makeshift beds back into the wagon.

      The children looked on it as being on a perpetual picnic and gloried in the freedom. Electa enjoyed having no floors to scrub, she said, nor windows to wash, but she longed for a home. Henry grew stronger than even before, when he had labored over his blacksmithing chores back in Illinois. Clancy stayed around to help, feeling somewhat responsible for their situation. He was a true son of the West, and where he was was what he did. Clancy helped Henry make arrangements to buy a hundred acres from the Union Land Company, and the two of them made the trip to the Nebraska City office to sign papers and pay the gold Henry had brought out for the purchase.

      If I’d a known you had that much gold on you, Henry, I could have made another fortune for us in the card room at Aspinwall.

      Sure you would have, Clancy! Either that, or left me broke, and then where would we be?" was Henry’s retort,

      You’re right, as usual, Henry, but it would have been fun. Clancy hitched a horse to the plow to break some ground to plant the potatoes he had been cutting up, with an eye in each piece, to provide the seed. to drop into the furrow.

      Clancy had used a heavy pole to make deep holes in the sod at the top of the hill and dropped the cherry, peach, pear, and apple seedlings that Henry had brought with him. This will be quite an orchard in a few years, but you gotta remember to water each of these holes every day before it frosts and in the spring to get ’em growing.

      Later that evening, when everyone had settled for the night, Henry told Electa, It was a good thing I took Clancy with me to the land office, He’s quite a talker. The fellow was deciding whether or not it would be a good thing for the railroad to sell me the land. You know the government had given them a section for every mile of track they laid to get the rail clear to the coast. As he was thinking it over, Clancy bombarded him with the fact that I would be raising stock and shipping it, picking fruit, raising corn and oats and rye, and hauling it all to the Shubert rail station. It just took Clancy to convince him I would succeed. Henry put his arm around Electa, kissed her gently on her cheek, said a prayer of thanks for Clancy, and drifted off to sleep. He was pleased with himself and delighted with Clancy for being so much help with his big mouth.

      Electa was gaining strength from the labors of her busy days. There were clothes to wash from the long trip. In her mind, she made her plans. She would use one large tub of water, heating it on the fire. When it was warm enough, she would drag it off, put in the lye soap she had packed, wash the clothes on the washboard, take them up to the spring for a good rinsing, then hang them out to dry on the saplings and bushes on the way back to the camp.

      "Oh, how I long for a regular clothesline," she thought. . .  Then she was asleep.

      Clancy, a hunter and a trapper, kept them in meat. He would trap rabbits, clean and prepare them for cooking, and, in record time, present fresh meat for the noon meal to Electa, who so appreciated having something besides vegetables to feed them. They had developed a taste for her rabbit stew

      Clancy, sighting a young but fullgrown deer near the creek, quickly brought it down with one shot. He took it to a far meadow, where he gutted, skinned, prepared the meat for drying, laid aside the hide to be scraped, and dried, as he had seen the squaws do. Clancy would take it to the Omaha Indian encampment tomorrow on the banks of the Missouri, a day’s ride north, and ask his friends there to tan it, for he knew he did not have the time nor the knowledge of how exactly to do it. The hide would make a good gift to Electa when he would leave and go back to trapping in November. He marveled at the fact that there were no flies.

      He thought, "Flies are the scourge of civilization".There would be plenty of them once the countryside got fully settled. He had paid attention as the squaws had butchered and handled their meat, with their primitive stone knives. He put the chunks into a clean

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