Great-grandpa was determined to be
the first settler in this section of central Kansas in order to have the pick of the Kansas prairie, and he was. He got the only farm with a good running spring and the best land
to boot.
But life was mighty lonely for the
children. The only thing that varied the monotony of the wearisome sameness of
daily life was an occasional herd of long-horned cattle with their colorful,
but dirty, cowboys making the drive up to Abilene.
To Grandma, oldest of five children
and accustomed to the social life they had enjoyed back in Iowa, the hardships and loneliness were
especially distressing. She was 12, an age when a girl’s friends mean so much
to her, and all of hers were “back East.”
The approach of the Fourth of July
made her even more downcast. All she could think about were the happy picnic,
pretty dresses, the parade, and all the fun the girls back in Iowa would be enjoying while she was working
like a slave. The night before the Fourth she had cried herself to sleep. The
next morning her mother sent her to the spring to get a bucket of water. She
was so depressed she didn’t even notice what was approaching up the trail from
the south until the neighing of a horse caught her attention.
Up the trail, their bright blue
uniforms resplendent in the early morning sunshine, came a company of United
States Cavalry. To that little beauty-starved girl it was the most wonderful
sight in the world. No Fourth of July parade she ever saw in all her 70 some years ever
equaled that long line of handsome glorious cavalry!
Her glory was complete when the
head officer stopped, wished her a pleasant “Good morning,” and a
“Happy Fourth of July” and asked for a drink of cool fresh water from
the spring. One after another, the men stopped for drinks and filled their
canteens with the water. Grandma watched transfixed until the last of the long
line disappeared over a swell to the north. From that day on Grandma loved the Kansas prairies.
Lydia Mayfield
Halstead,
Kansas
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the
then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers
to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from
early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from
grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were
received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title –
My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon –
hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true
tales from Capper’s readers, and
we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.
