(1868)

     We started at four o'clock May first, 1868 for the great West.  I don't think any one of the party had any regrets for leaving Iowa, or indulged in a moment's longing for it ever after.  We were on our way to the great unknown.  We expected it to be wild, lots of Indians, but that had no terrors for Mother.  She declared she would go until she found a place where she could raise fruit.  Several men had visited us that last winter who had been out to Washington and Oregon.  They were loud in praise of the Willamette Valley; it's possibilities as a great fruit country.  We left Iowa with Albany as our destination, but Uncle Holbrook thought if he could get to Wally Wallee, it would be near enough to Paradise for him.  One man came to see us who had been a soldier stationed on the plains.  After telling Indian stories for two hours, he reached over and took hold of a bunch of my hair and said, "Well, Sis, when the Indians scalp you, they will get a pretty head of hair."  I gave a scream and nearly fainted.  He told one yarn I never forgot.  When they were in a sod fort, the ground was covered with a light fall of snow.  They had butchered a beef and hung the haunch up on a post so the coyotes would come within shooting distance.  A Dutchman had to stand guard that night.  He saw the haunch, and looking out over the snow enough bushes showed that it looked like Indians creeping up to surprise the fort.  He began shooting and calling for more amonish, more amonish.  The haunch was riddled, but no Indians killed.