WHEN THE NIGHT
OWL HAS SPOKEN

March 3, 1973

Dear Great-Grandma Griswold,

I hope that this letter finds you all right. Everyone here is just fine, although father has been battling a bit of a cold. I miss you.

I wanted to write to you to see if you could help me with a school project. I would ask you in person, but because we live about eight hours away from you, I cannot ask you in person. Please feel free to say no to my request if you would prefer to.

My teacher has assigned each of us in the class the task of writing an essay about a historical topic. I have decided to write about what life on the prairie might have been like for the settlers that came west. When I mentioned the subject to mother, she indicated that you had come to the West in a covered wagon in the late 1880s, and that your family settled in rural Kansas. I wondered if you could write me back about some of your experiences as a little girl so that I could include them in my report. I would really appreciate it if you would consider doing this for me. The project is due before the end of the school year, so we have some time. I have so many questions….”

April 1, 1881 – Saline County, Kansas

Little Mary Elizabeth peeked out over the edge of the buckboard as it bounced along the Kansas road, kicking up a trail of dust behind it. With a careful glance, she raised her head to see her Papa, sitting in the seat above her, guiding the horses. As the hot prairie wind blew into her face, she reached up to straighten the small white bonnet that was tied tightly to her chin and reposition herself in between the sacks of flour and meal that Papa had just purchased from the general store in Cambria. The wagon skipped over a bump in the road which made everything jump a few inches and she landed with a hard thud and a cough.

Sister Emma sat up next to Papa, and glancing back at her little sister, frowned disapprovingly.

“Mind yourself.” Emma barked. She was always giving orders.

Papa glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He tugged the reins of the horses a bit to get them to slow, as he chided the little one. “Mary Elizabeth. You sit yourself back down. Momma will have our hides if you fall and bust one of them bags of flour or meal. Just be good for a bit longer, and I will give you some candy I’ve got in my pocket.”

Emma frowned. “Papa, why are you always doing that? Bribing her to be good. If it were up to me, I’d tan her backside to get her to mind. That’s what you used to do to me.”

Papa gave her a sideways glance. “I never tanned your hide for nothing.”

“What about the time I took that handful of caramels from Mr. Wilkerson’s store?” Emma chided.

“That was different. You deserved the switch then, count of it was stealing. Little Mary’s done nothing wrong, she’s just stretching her legs, peeking over the side of the buckboard is all. You tend to yourself and leave her be.”

“Mamma says you keep spoiling her and there be hell to pay.” Emma said.

“I suppose.” Papa nodded. “Count of your mother knows everything.”

Papa turned the horses onto the road of the quarter section he’d purchased a year and a half earlier. The wagon wheeled through a makeshift gate attached to a fence of barbed wire that stretched into the distance around the 160 acres that belonged to him. A crudely built sign, with the burnt image of a large G and a curved line under it hung above them. Mary noticed one side of it dangling down at an angle. The ‘Rocking G’ Ranch. It was Papa’s dream.

But dreams mean nothing if you don’t work to keep them alive. She thought about how Papa said that a lot.

A tiny sod house stood about one hundred yards away, built into the rise of a small hill. It was nothing special, had a woodened front and sides, but dirt floors. The roof was a patchwork of Kansas thatch laid down over some crude wooden rafters. At one end of the cabin, Papa had built a nice fireplace, constructed the whole thing with the limestone and granite that littered the fields around the home. An undersized bed with an overstuffed mattress, and a rocking chair her mother had given her sat on one side of the room. A wooden dining table and chairs the land assessor sat on the other. It was no Victorian castle, but the Griswolds somehow made it work.

The family had situated the cabin off from a small creek that ran through the front forty acres and that supplied their water until Papa and a couple of neighbors hand dug a well. About thirty yards away, there was a corral for the livestock, which consisted of two work horses and a milking cow. As the wagon stopped in front of the house, Mary noticed the structure Papa had been working on that was almost finished. A small barn, where the one milking cow, and the horses could sleep. Right now, Bessie the cow was tethered to part of the sod hut, taking shelter under a makeshift lean to. Emma and Mary took turns milking her.

Mamma met them at the door.

“You’re back.” Anna Griswold smiled. “What wonderful treasures did you bring us from town?”

“Supplies.” Emma announced popping up before Mary could think of what to say. “Daddy bought the flour and cornmeal and coffee just as you asked. But I think he also bought a couple of cans of peaches. Said he was going to surprise you.”

“He did, did he?”

Mary reached down to get one out of the sack to show. “Right here, mama.”

Anna smiled. “Okay girls. You help get some of these things into the cabin and then we will start dinner. I imagine from all that shopping you all are famished. I’ll get dinner on after a bit.”

Papa helped Mary Elizabeth down from the back of the wagon, handed her a candy and sent her into the house. He was about to pick up a sack of beans when his wife touched him on the sleeve. Her face was serious. “Josiah. Dr. Milner was by. Says that he was heading out to check on the Lowry clan. Thinks that they got the cholera really bad and he wanted us to know.”

Josiah shook his head. “Miller, too? What about the baby?”

‘I don’t know. He didn’t say.” She said, “He also said that there was some Pawnee that have been seen around these parts. A scouting party of five or six. And that he wanted us to know.”

“I’d better head over to the Millers.” Josiah spoke.

“Josiah, you can’t. What if you bring the cholera back?” His wife implored.

“I’ll be careful. But Anna, I need to. Remember how Miller came and chopped wood and then went and got us supplies last winter when we were all down with the croup? Without that help, we would never have made it. I gotta return the favor. It’s the right thing to do. Let me unload these things and then I will head over.”

Several hours later, Josiah Griswold walked into the cabin, looked at his wife and just shook his head. “It’s bad” was all he said.

Three days later, he took to getting sick. Just before supper, he decided to separate himself from the cabin and sleep in the part of the barn that was finished, told his wife and children that he wanted to keep the death away from the rest of the family.

At supper, Anna held a plate of biscuits and beans in her hands, covered with a clean cloth. “Come on, girls. I want you to go say hello to your father. Might cheer him to see you.”

As they walked toward the door of the barn, she made them stay outside the doorway and warned them to keep their distance, so as not to catch anything. Mary Elizabeth could barely see the shadow of her father as she peered inside, but she saw his form stir slightly. Coughing. Weak with exhaustion from the sickness. He accepted the plate from his wife. “Thank you. I’ll eat later.”

He noticed the girls, standing at the edge of the doorway. “Hello, my angels.” He whispered. “Don’t you worry about me. I will be back on my feet in no time. You just need to mind you mother, you hear?” They both nodded and as they turned to walk back to the cabin, the sound of hoofbeats came over the field. Anna Griswold peered around the side of the barn door, just in time to see five or six riders crossing the creek and riding up toward the front of the house.

“What is it?” Josiah asked weakly, trying to stand.

“The Pawnee, I suspect.” She closed the door to the barn quickly, as she quietly instructed her husband. “You stay quiet, and for goodness stay put.”

Then, she reached out, grabbed her girls, and cradled them close to her under each arm. Carefully, the three of them made their way up toward the tiny cabin to stand in front of horses. The Indians did not dismount. One of them wore a soldier’s hat and rode a white pony, he leaned forward, and tipped his cap toward Anna Griswold. The others kept silent.

“Hello.” Soldier Hat spoke. “We mean you no harm. We only wish to water our horses in your creek before moving on.”

“Good evening.” Anna Griswold said nervously. “I am Anna Griswold, and my daughters Emma and Mary Elizabeth. You speak English. What kind of Indian are you?”

Soldier Hat looked down, smiling. “Yes. Taught English as a scout for the Major Campbell near Fort Hays. We are Pawnee. We hunt the buffalo.”

One of the other Indians said something and Soldier Hat nodded. “Where is your man?”
“He’s taken ill. The Black Death.” Anna hesitated. “He is in the barn, sick with fever.”
One of the Indians with a painted face dismounted and began to walk over to the barn. This action upset Anna, and she was torn as to whether rush to her husband’s aid or protect her daughters. Soldier Hat saw her anguish and held up his hand. “It okay” he said.
Anna begged. “Please. We don’t want no trouble. We have no quarrel with you. You are welcome to water and feed your horses.”
“I thank you for your offer. As I said, we only wish to rest a short time. We can camp on the other side of the creek near the large tree, if you would prefer.”
The painted Indian slipped the knife out of his belt and gently opened the barn door. Anna gasped at the sight. Everyone watched as he quietly disappeared from view.
After a few moments, he emerged, and returned to the group of horses, speaking something to the Soldier Hat.

“Racing Wind says that you must be careful these next three days. Death fills the night, but if you are strong and full of courage the cloud of darkness may pass over you. He says that the Night Owl has spoken this.”

Anna Griswold clutched her children even tighter. “Is he saying that Josiah will die?”

“It has not been said, yet.” Soldier Hat shifted in the saddle. “You must wait. This is all the Owl has told him.”

“I have called for the doctor, but I do not know when he is coming.” She said.

Soldier Hat nodded. “This disease is beyond any medicine.”

“Is there anything that can be done?”

“My brother says that you should burn the clothes and blankets of the house. Anything the dying have touched since the sickness began. Only by destroying what you have will you have any chance of living. These are also the words of the Owl.”

“I don’t understand. Burn all our belongings?”

Soldier Hat nodded. “The darkness is strong in this place, do these things and you may yet live.”

Anna nodded.

“We will water our horses, cook a meal and move on. Thank you for your kindness.” Then the group turned, rode their horses to the opposite side of the creek, and made camp underneath a large cottonwood tree. As they made a fire, the painted faced Indian kneeled and chanted to the spirits.

Safe inside the cabin, Anna Griswold turned to the girls. “I want you both to go to sleep. Get ready for bed and say your prayers. Pray for your papa, pray for all of us.” Then she took her husbands rifle down from over the fireplace, laid out some extra ammunition on the table and sat in the rocker between the door of the cabin and the girls.

Mary Elizabeth was the first to awaken. Carefully, she went over to where her mother was sleeping in the rocking chair. Anna Griswold awakened with a start. She patted Mary Elizabeth on the head and walked to the door of the cabin. Carefully, she opened it, and poked her head outside of the cabin. The Indians were gone. She exhaled a big sigh of relief and sat the rifle down.

“Mary Elizabeth, you stay put, you understand?”

The little girl nodded, as she watched her mother head to the barn. After what seemed an eternity, Anna Griswold came back, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Come on, little one. Let’s fix your Papa some broth to eat.”

After breakfast, Anna Griswold stripped the beds, removed her own dress, and changed the clothes of the girls. She took the clothing out of the house and walked out into the middle of the field, where she doused the bedding some lantern oil and struck a match. As she watched the fire become larger and larger, consuming everything, she fell to her knees and cried and prayed. The fire burned all day, the smoke rising into the clear Kanas sky. Little by little, Anna found things to add to it.

For the next two days, her routine never varied. Cooking, cleaning, keeping the chores up, and burning almost everything, even the clothes Josiah had been wearing.

On the third day, a black horse and carriage pulled up to the front of the cabin. Anna Griswold went out to greet Dr. Milner.

“I heard Josiah had taken ill.” He spoke. ‘Thought I should come by to check on him.”

Anna spoke. “He is in the barn. Was resting when I checked on him about an hour ago. I can’t tell if he is getting better or not.”

Dr. Milner walked over with her as they entered the barn.

“I saw the smoke when I was coming up.” The doctor said. “Was afraid that the hostiles had burned your place to the ground.” “No, that was me.” Anna said, pointing to the charred remains in the middle of the field. “I was burning anything that Josiah might have come in contact with, before he got ill.”

“Who told you to do that?” The doctor nodded his head. “I don’t remember telling you to do anything of the sort.”

“The Pawnee were by the other night. One of them said that the Night Owl instructed him to tell us to do it.”

Dr. Milner laughed. “Well, that is right. Guess it’s nice to know that the Owl knows as much modern medicine as we do. You all stay here, and I will go check on him.” Then, he slipped into the shadows.

Anna and the girls waited at the door of the barn for the doctor to return. A bit later, as he poked his head out of the door, he smiled. “I think that the fever has passed. He is not as dehydrated and says you have been filling him with broths and teas. That’s good. I suspect if you give him a day or two, he will be back on his feet. I want him to take it easy for a week or so, just to be able to get his strength back. And by the way, I spotted the old owl up in the rafters, looks like he was your father’s good omen.

Dear Jimmie,

I was so pleased to receive your letter and take a few moments to answer your questions. One of the questions you asked is what kind of animals I encountered on the prairie. Well, I never came across a rattlesnake, although my father shot one while plowing the north forty. It was a big one, almost six feet, from what I understand. There were some deer that we saw down by the creek and of course, rabbits, grouse hens, (which is called a prairie chicken) and a pheasant or two. There is one animal that I remember well, it was an old barn owl. I have included that story here. I hope you can make sense of it. As you can see, my hands are not as steady as they once were.

I hope that you do well on your essay and that the questions I have answered are enough to help you get a good grade. You are smart (like your mother and father). I expect that there is a big future ahead for you. And while I might not see what becomes of you (After all, I am 95) I know that you come from a long legacy of hard workers. We Griswolds have always been a determined lot and have overcome many things in our lives.

Be kind to your sister.

Love,

Great-Grandma Griswold

PS. I will have some sugar cookies ready for you when your family comes to visit. I am so looking forward to seeing you again.