Winchester House

William and Georgina (Atkinson) Ardies rented the Winchester House from 

Judge Conmy about 1908 and ran it for many years. This is Georgina and

her daughter Maggie Ardies (scratched-out face) in the kitchen.

[Photo Courtesy: Kent Myrick]

Interior photographs of buildings were not as common a century or more ago as they are today, mainly due to lighting concerns. To come across one of a well-known local business from that time period is definitely a rare treat. The above shot shows the kitchen of the Winchester House hotel in Pembina, originally built by Lucien Geroux¹. The photograph was shared with me by a great nephew of the lady on the right, Georgina Ardies.

I didn't realize until I began my recent correspondence with the nephew - Kent Myrick - that the hotel survived as long as it did.  Kent said his father grew up there in the early 1900's...

RIGHT:  Judge Edward Walsh Conmy, owner of the Winchester House at this time

The Winchester House in Pembina was run by my Dad's "Aunt Eeny", that is, Georgina (Atkinson) Ardies, while my dad was growing up there.

William Ardies was Dad's mother's oldest brother. William's sister Margaret (Ardies) Hensal and her husband George Hensal raised my dad and his brother, (Nathan and Ardies Myrick). She was always called "Auntie Hensal", in the English tradition, instead of using her given name. Probably because the Ardies family came to Pembina by way of Quebec, where they settled when they fled Ireland in the mid-1800s.

She lived in the Winchester for years after being widowed, still lived there in 1949 when we picked her up and took her to live with us. I remember going to that side door of the Winchester which faced Heneman's grocery store.

In the News: Winchester House (Geroux Hotel)

THE PRIDE OF OLD PEMBINA. 

The Most Elegant Hostelry in Dakota, North of the Columbia at Fargo.
Special to the Globe. 

PEMBINA, N. D., April 21. – One of the most superb and popular hotels in North Dakota is the Winchester House, of Pembina. It is prominently located in the heart of the city, at the corner of Cavalier and Roulette streets, and has a frontage of fifty feet on Cavalier street and sixty feet on Roulette street. It is built with white Crookston brick, and is three stories high. It is at present one of the most elegant and substantial hotel structures north of Fargo, North Dakota. Supplied and equipped with all the modern hotel improvements of metropolitan cities, it is highly prized by all our citizens and the traveling public. Built in the year 1882, at a cost of about twenty thousand dollars, it is a most fortunate investment for its present owner and proprietor. 

J. W. Winchester, after whom the house is named, is the owner and present proprietor of this most popular public resort. The management of this hotel has been given the personal care and attention of J. W. Winchester and his bright and popular wife. Mrs. Winchester has ever been distinguished as one of the most popular and entertaining of hotel matrons, and her popular parlor entertainments have always been most highly appreciated by all the patrons of this hotel and many invited friends, and to her own careful labor in the culinary department in preparation of meals this hotel owes much for its well-earned popularity for its table luxuries. So acceptable are the meals served in this house that the southbound Northern Pacific vestibule train often stops at Pembina sufficiently long enough to enable passengers to obtain their meals here in preference to those furnished by the dining car attached to these trains. This whole structure is occupied as a hotel, and the house can, with adjoining hotel accommodations, accommodate several hundred guests at a time in a most comfortable and acceptable manner.  

This hotel has been for years the “head center” of the political, social and festive activity of the northeast corner of Dakota. In and about this charming resort are clustered some of the most interesting memories of the past political history of this section. Here it was, in this hotel, that the late Jerry Tuohy, one of the most gifted Democratic leaders of his party, planned some of his most successful political conquests in this district, and here it is where, today, the present Republican leader, Jud LaMoure, sways his numerous political cohorts, and plans his most important political battles. Here, too, Jud often “flushes” with great success and raises the “downs” with less than a pair of “breakers.” This hotel is patronized by the very best class of boarders and travelers and for neatness and comfort this house enjoys a most envious reputation. Many of the county officers are remembered among its guests, and as a hotel bonanza for its owner is the Merchants’ hotel of Pembina and this entire section of the Red River Valley. 

Source:
The Saint Paul Daily Globe
Monday Morning, April 22, 1889
Volume XI, Number 112, Page 6

 __________________

From: Pembina and Turtle Mountain Ojibway (Chippewa) history: from the personal collections and writings of Charlie White Weasel

So as you can see, Charlie White Weasel's testimony concerning who built the Winchester House (originally the Geroux Hotel) and first ran it, confirms what Chuck Walker wrote in SHERIFF CHARLEY BROWN.

Also from the same source:

Lucien Geroux ... was then keeping a hotel in South Pembina, the same building, (improved) now being the one in which the county poor are being boarded and cared for, usually called our poor house. 

The large, 2-storey building just east of the Pembina Bridge, sitting in the area where the future Selkirk Park will be, is what I think is the building mentioned above (i.e., Lucien Geroux's first hotel, later repurposed and used as the Pembina Poor House...)

A Tour of Old Pembina

[This was in a 25 year anniversary (first published on Thursday, August 7, 1879) issue of the Pembina Pioneer newspaper, printed in 1904...note the references to characters you have read about in the Sheriff Charley Brown story...]

OLD PEMBINA
_____

Historical Sketch of the Buildings
in Pembina in the Early
Pioneer Days

The picture of the town of Pembina as it appeared in 1877 is a reproduction of a rough sketch drawn at that time by the writer, who then, as now, made no pretensions as an artist. Its chief value is that it represents the general appearance and the existing buildings at that time. I is a bird's-eye view taken as if "the bird" was elevated about a hundred feet high on the St. Vincent shore of the Red river and looking nearly to the westward.

The building in the foreground, on the point, was situated on the exact spot where the flag-staff brought here last summer from Fort Pembina, is standing now. It was a historic building, as it was the first building in connection with the Kittson-Hill trading and transportation business, and was for many years a U.S. bonded warehouse. The building itself was torn down some years ago, but the excavation for the cellar still remains.


Back of this building at the edge of the timber was a long, low, log house, which at that time and for some years after was used as a hotel and run by L. Geroux, who afterward built the present Winchester Houbse. It was on the site of the house owned by Mrs. Gerardin an now occupied by Barney Johnson.

On the opposite point at that time was the "business" part of the town. The first building, with what appears to be a long low ell running towards the river but which was really a separate building used as a steamboat warehouse, was then the residence of F.C. Myrick. It was a saw mill originally, run by Mr. McKenney, and afterwards transformed it into a dwelling. It was quite a large house and was at times afterward used as a boarding house and hotel. It was burned a short time afterwards.

...Smith [of the Hudson Bay Company] reminded his listeners that at that time there had been bitter feeling between the United States and England and her colonies, and that "without railways, with a trackless wilderness and some five hundred miles to traverse, it was impossible in less time than two months" for Canada to get a single soldier into the territory...to men like Sanford and Smith, the fact that a nondescript frontier village of log and mud huts known as Pembina was booming was not without significance. McDougall watched anxiously as more and more of the villainous-looking newcomers assembled in the Robbers' Roost, Dead Layout, and Ragged Edge saloons; he cursed his irresolute superiors in Ottawa, and gratefully swallowed the boasts of the Canadian handful at Fort Garry that they were more than a match for "a few ignorant rebels." - from Strange Empire: A Narrative of the Northwest By Joseph Kinsey Howard

Across the street nearest the levee the building partly on piles, was the "Ragged Edge," a saloon and bowling alley run by Louis Johnson, who went west and some years ago was in Alaska. The building was afterwards removed and is now the residence of Mrs. S. Ardies.

The two log buildings together, next up the street, was for many years Pembina's only first class hotel. It was run originally by George F. Potter, a local celebrity, a sort of attorney. His fame rests largely on the fact that while he was the first land officer in the state, he turned over to his successor the cleanest set of books ever seen in the land department. There wasn't the scratch of a pen in any of them. At the time of the sketch the hotel was run by J.B. Fisk. Perhaps no building in the state, if it could have written its autobiography, could have told more stories of wild western life than the old "Robber's Roost." The old buildings were long ago converted into firewood. A small building next in line up the street was the city meat market, also run by Fisk.

Next in order, with it's long sign running out over the sidewalk, or rather where the sidewalk ought to have been, was "The Flat Boat Store," which was kept by the then leading merchant of the town, F.C. Myrick, who was also register of deeds and steamboat agent. R. Aylen was his right-hand man. This old building was standing in the rear of the house now occupied by Register Gill up to a couple of years ago. Its name originated from the principal method of commerce with the outer world at that time.

Just across the street from the Flat Boat store, near the centre of the picture, where the T.L. Price store now stands will be seen a curious structure. This was an elevated platform o which was placed the instruments of the U.S. weather bureau. This platform was perhaps 12 or 14 feet square and was about that height from the ground. The year previous, being the Centennial year, the citizens sent below and got a large supply of fireworks for the Fourth. A good part of the male adult population climbed upon the platform with the "works." The kids and the ladies stood below to see the things go off. They all went off together, "works" and men. It must have been an exciting time for a few minutes. Most of those old pioneers have had a prejudice against fireworks ever since. St. Vincent, being in a state, took advantage of our weakness in territorial representation in Congress, to steal our signal station a few years after, but later lost to St. Paul in the same manner - and Pembina had the last laugh.

At the left of the picture is the old log post office, from which Postmaster and Mrs. Charles Cavileer dispensed a generous hospitality for many years. Farther along the street to the right is the present Pembina House, now owned and run by Mrs. Gerardin. It was the most pretentious building in town and at the time it was built was really a splendid structure, being constructed of squared logs, pinned together. Honorable Enos Statsman, the owner and builder, was perhaps the most able man of the early pioneers and he occupies on the highest places in the memories of those who still survive. For many years it was occupied as the U.S. Custom House and at the time of the picture it was used as a dwelling for several families. A year later it was converted into a hotel and occupied by Judson Winchester as a landlord until the new Winchester House was built.

Next to this is a building that still stands on Cavileer Street and now used by F.S. Cheney as a butcher shop. At the time the picture was made it was the general store of W.H. Lyons, who lived and had another store in Winnipeg. St this time the Pembina store was under the management of a young man, who has since grown older and who now occupies a dignified position as His Honor, W.J. Kneeshaw, Judge of the Seventh Judicial District.

The next two buildings going to the right on this street were occupied by the U.S. Custom House and Charles J. Brown's saloon. Brown was a discharged soldier of the U.S. regulars at Fort Pembina and was at this time sheriff of the county. The buildings were destroyed by fire from a lightning stroke in 1879. The upper story of the larger building was occupied by H.R. Vaughn, then Clerk of Court, and the records of the office, including citizen papers were entirely destroyed.

At the rear of the above two buildings is the now vacant building which for later years did duty as the Headquarters Hotel. It was built by Antoine Gingras, a well-to-do trader, and was a very fine structure for the time it was built.

Across the street from the old Gingras house is the building which for many years was the home of Edward Piche. Like many larger houses of that time it also did service for a long time as a hotel. Oliver Matthews was the land lord at the time the picture was made and Mr. Winchester kept the place for a time afterwards. Far to the right is the old Catholic church on the site of the present structure. Back of that is the first public building belonging to the county - the jail. It was built of heavy, squared logs by Robert Ewing and cost the county something over $900. It is still in use in the rear of the court house as a stable.

Emil Wendt, a young German immigrant who was fiat-boating down the Red River from Fort Abercrombie to Pembina, tells how "On arriving at Pembina he was accosted by Mr. McKinnon [sic], who ran a sawmill and store, who conveyed the intelligence that Joe Rolette had died [May 16, 1871] and that they wished to get pine lumber to make a coffin but there was none in the place. Mr. Wendt told him to go to his boat and get what lumber they wanted." - from The Man Who Created the Corner of Portage and Main

The log house on the next street back and in the rear of the Pembina House was at different times the residence of various old pioneers. H.R. Vaughn and Emil Wendt, now of Cavalier, being of the number, and at the time of the sketch was being prepared as the first home of a young bridal couple, lately married at Paris, Ontario, Mr. and Mrs. W.J. Kneeshaw. The site is now occupied by the Presbyterian church.

In the far left background is the school house, of which we give a picture by itself and a description.

To many of the older settlers who have passed through or lived in Pembina in the early days, this picture, with the assistance of their memories, will cause them to remember many things now almost forgotten; while to the younger ones it may prove of interest to know how and where their fathers and predecessors lived.

1880 Dakota Territory Directory

For St. Vincent, Kittson County:


For Pembina, Pembina County:

Bradshaw, J. - Pembina Hotel
Cavalier, Charles - Postmaster
Cavalier, C. - Real Estate Agent
Crawford, Charles - General Store
Ferguson, Peter - Grocer
Gooding, C.J. - Railroad Agent
Johnson, Holmes & Driscoll - Farm Implements, Buggies & Wagons
La Moure, Webb Traill & Co. - General Store
McLellan, A. - Ontario House
Moorhead, Daniel - Saloon
Myrick, F.C. - General Store
O'Connell, Hugh - Express Agent
Pembina Mill Co. - Flour Mill
Scribner, Johnson - Saloon & Billiards
Strong, Thompson - Hardware & Farm Implements
West, George - Farm Implements & Wagons
Winchester, J.A. - Winchester House
Winters, George - General Store
Yerxa, T.E. - General Store

Captain Emerson, Revisited

Too many people too quickly forget. With that thought in mind, Bob Tullius of Winchester, Va., will be flying into the airport at Pembina, N.D., today in a World War II P-51 Mustang. He has restored the plane to look exactly like the one Air Force Capt. Donald Emerson of the Pembina and Karlstad, Minn., area was flying when he was shot down on Christmas Day of 1944. And the restoration is precise, right down to the painting of Donald Duck on the nose. (August 28, 1992 - Grand Forks Herald)

Maggie's Book: Part I

Back in August, I wrote that once Gamble descendent Alice had time to scan her ancestor's scrapbook (known as the 'Maggie Book'¹) - then donate it - she would share with me copies of the pages I had told her I'd like.

Recently I received those copies, and here is the first example...
PEMBINA, N.D.,
FRIDAY,
APRIL 23, 1897

THE FLOOD
_______________

An Awful Storm on Easter Sun-
day Adds Horror and Makes
Havoc to the Already
Distressed.
_______________

The flood has kept rising slowly and steadily since our last week's report. On Wednesday morning it came to a standstill, and has fallen about two inches up to to-day noon, (Friday,) and it is hoped that the high water mark of this year has been reached, being about thirteen or fourteen inches above the flood of 1882, a total rise of 42 feet 4 1/2 inches. Here in the city, between the railroad and river, there are yet about a dozen dwelling houses with dry floors. West of the track it is still quite dry and most of the houses in that locality are dry. The stores on the west side of Cavileer street are as yet all right. Some of them however had their floors just on a level with the water, and two or three inches of a rise would make considerable trouble for a good many folks. The Winchester House is still high and dry and the Pembina House is above the level and while the Headquarters is a little moist down stairs yet is doing business just the same. Quite a number of families have gone to the hotels to stay during "the unpleasantness." Most of our towns people however are living "high" but though somewhat elevated have no disposition to look down on more fortunate or unfortunate people. Full preparations were made and as everybody was prepared, the only result to most people is considerable inconvenience for a time. Our people are taking the matter philosophically and are and have been this week taking active steps to aid others, whose troubles are real misfortunes, and whose losses involve nearly all they possess. Of course the general hope is that we have seen the worst and that the waters will speedily retire to their natural bounds.

THE STORM

If the flood had come no higher than in 1882 and the weather remained pleasant, the flood of 1897 would not have been a very serious affair except in some few cases. But most people had made 1882 the extreme possible limit and thought of no danger of anything above that. But the water not only came above that, but the severe wind and storm of Easter Sunday passed over miles of water, raising great waves which beat down houses and barns and sent others floating to distant places.

No tongue can speak the horrors and terrors suffered by many families, by women and children, who were exposed to the pitiless storm and the relentless waves, miles from land. The mariner in his ship has a chance to fight for his life; good seamanship and hard work and he may or can weather the gale, but these poor wretches huddled in rickety buildings, rocking in winds and waves, helpless as babes, without fire, with the spray freezing in fantastic shapes where it fell. Oh! the horror of it.

A few houses in this city were somewhat exposed and the inmates were somewhat frightened, but the railroad grade, the numerous sidewalks staked down, and the surrounding timber broke the force of the sea and wind to most of the houses. At the grade the sight was like the sea shore in a storm. The spray from the waves dashed as high as the tops of the telegraph poles and one side of the grade was badly washed away. One side of the front of William Moorhead's undertaking building was torn off by the force of the wind. One of T.L. Price's large windows was blown in and a section of the shingles on the Episcopal church was ripped off. Fortunately a large proportion of the sidewalks had been staked before the storm and most of it remains in position. Perhaps no one in town had more trouble on their hands on Sunday than Charley Atkinson and his men. Mr. Atkinson had a herd of cattle for shipment about 125 in number. He had driven them to the western part of town beyond the depot but they had no shelter except that they were behind a barn and some hay stacks. It was found impossible to get there from town by boat and Mr. Atkinson made several trips on horse-back through the icy water and waves, the spray freezing on his horse as he went. The cattle came out without loss, and have been driven to Neche for shipment to-morrow.

Gisli Gislason, an Icelandic carpenter, about six in the morning Sunday, saw two boats get loose from Mr. Oliver's hotel in South Pembina; with two other men he followed in a large boat to bring them back. They found themselves drifting before the wind in the middle of the river, with waves mountain high, and in spite of their best efforts they drifted up the river, and landed on the roof of a submerged house on the river bank nearly opposite Fort Pembina. Only a small portion of the house was above water, and there the three remained until Sunday evening, ready at any moment to make a jump for the boat, if the house toppled over. They got to the Fort that evening and arrived back next morning, just as searching parties were starting out for them. Although they suffered seriously with cold yet they were all right next day.

It was very hard work and attended with some danger to navigate the icy sidewalks, and an "alpen stock" was almost absolutely necessary to prevent being blown into the water. Our sidewalks and crossings though generally well staked were badly scattered in some parts of town, by the storm, and it will be no small expense to put our sidewalks and bridges in shape again. A peculiar incident of the storm was the sudden fall of the water. Beginning about 7 o'clock Sunday morning the water fell over an inch an hour for five or six hours, and continued until about five o'clock in the evening dropping nearly twelve inches. Of course this cleared the water from the floors of most of the residences and there was much rejoicing, but the next day it was all back again and two inches more. It was doubtless the action of the wind on the surface of the water.

STEAMER "GRAND FORKS."

On Wednesday evening the steamer "Grand Forks" sounded her whistle opposite Pembina and in a few minutes nine-tenths of the male population and even some ladies, were at the Pembina bridge to meet her. The steamer tied up at the edge of Cavileer street, her bow pushing in the floating sidewalk on that side. She was under the charge of Mr. O.W. Pennison as manager fro the Great Northern railroad company, her owner. Capt. Bruce Griggs is captain and Capt. Perrault, pilot. The steamer and crew is furnished by the Great Northern railroad company, the fuel is supplied by towns and counties along the river, Grand Forks merchants sent a large quantity of supplies under the charge of Capt. James Elton and East Grand Forks merchants an additional amount under the charge of Mr. DeWolf. This is the third trip of the steamer for the relief of the flooded farmers. She left Drayton Wednesday morning and the history of her trip northward is similar to the report given us by Messrs Colley and Hogg who came by sailing skiff the day before. Hundreds of farm buildings wrecked and floated off, considerable stock drowned, and a repetition of the terrors suffered by people caught miles from land in half-floating and rickety houses, and of people and stock on roofs and rafts exposed to the waves and winds. We have not space nor time to give a tenth of the stories that are told of the sufferings and but a small part is yet told, and much will never be known.

The steamer had on board three women, a widow Johnson and two daughters who, lived near the river ten miles west of Hallock on the Minnesota side. A part of her house had floated away and she had fifteen head of cattle. These were taken on board the boat. Besides these cattle there were also about thirty head of horses and cattle belonging to Messrs Murray, McLellan, McKean and McLean from near Bowesmont. These will be landed at Drayton on the return trip.

The steamer left early on Thursday morning to continue her relief service as she went southwards. On her trip north she left several men and boats to go through the Snake river country east of Drayton, where considerable suffering has been reported and she will pick them up on her return and do what may seem necessary for the relief of the flooded farmers.

And here we may say, that both the Great Northern and Northern Pacific companies have not spared expense or trouble in sending relief boats and trains, and the liberality of Grand Forks and East Grand Forks is certainly very opportune and kind hearted. The party of Drayton people who took their boats on a special N.P. train to Bowesmont on Monday and spent two days of hard work in rescuing people and stock deserve particular credit for their thoughtfulness as well as willingness.

On board of the steamer as passengers were Messrs Wylie, Wallace, McCrea, and Crandell of Drayton, Cashier D.C. Moore of the First National Bank and H.L. Hausseman druggist, of Grafton. These gentlemen ame down to look over the situation, so as to be better informed as to the relief needed, and which they have to some extent initiated. Besides these mentioned were Messrs Thos. Murray and Mr. McClellan, in charge of part of the stock on the barge, and the three women, Mrs. Johnson and daughters before mentioned. Capt. Elton and son were also passengers.

SEEN FROM A SKIFF

Mr. J.T. Colley and Howard Hogg came down from Drayton on Tuesday evening in a small sailing skiff. Mr. Colley was interviewed by the Pioneer Express and his story of the voyage will give our readers an approximate idea of the troubles and misfortunes of the farmers who reside in the flooded district. Of course in just a sailing trip of forty miles or so from Monday noon to Tuesday night, the information gathered is must necessarily be fragmentary and sometimes erroneous as to detail, but enough is certain to show what an awful state several hundreds of our friends, neighbors and citizens were placed in during the terrible storm of wind and wave during Saturday night and Sunday, and the particular instances given are only examples. For it must be remembered that an extent of country averaging at least five miles on either side of the river from about Grand Forks to Winnipeg is and was submerged with the flood, and hundreds of farm buildings are or were standing in water, some as high as the eaves, and many from three to five miles from the nearest land. In this county the country east from Bowesmont is low and the flood is a mile or two beyond the railroad track at that place.

In South Joliette the water is four or five miles inland. The water near the banks of the river is about five or six feet deep on the average and then shoals up very gradually to the dry land, as the country is so nearly level. The Minnesota side is generally somewhat lower than our side and the water is farther inland. The water on Monday was eight and a half miles out of its banks eastward and only one and a half miles from Hallock. The Minnesota side is not so thickly settled over here, but there are farmers all along. On this side, in the flooded district, there is a farmer on almost every quarter section; and as we stated last week a large proportion of them had no crops last year owing to the heavy rains. This much for the general situation, the following cases of loss, and hardship, as we said, are simply examples, and the reader will be able to imagine the rest. In only a few instances where people had exceptionally good buildings, was there an attempt to remain in the upper stories until the flood subsided. Nearly all the farmers along the river had driven their stock back to high land, but in many cases, some one or two persons were left at the house to take care of things, or rowed there in bats on Saturday and were caught by the storm, not daring to face the waves in their rude boats.

Messrs Colley and Hogg left Drayton as stated, about noon on Monday. They had heard it reported before they left, that there were no particular cases of suffering towards the north. On their way down towards Pittsburgh, they saw many buildings badly wrecked. When they came to the house of Mr. George Reid Sr. they found it badly wrecked, granary and out buildings, with seed and contents all gone. Mr. Reid and family consisting of his wife, daughter and niece, were in the house and had been badly frightened by their terrible experience of the day before. Another boat came about this time and between them the family was carried to the nearest dry land, the railroad grade, two and a half miles distant. Here a rescue train from Drayton was found standing on the track. Word had been sent out from Bowesmont and a car had been loaded with boats and men and on arrival they went promptly to work at rescue and relief. After leaving the Reid family safe but still suffering from their fright, Messrs Colley and Hogg sailed to the north again.

At the house of Mr. Campbell three or four boys, his sons, who were there taking care of things, had to abandon the house during the storm on Sunday and go through five feet of water to the barn, where they remained on the roof until Monday morning in their wet clothes without fire. They lost some cattle as well as other property.

Frank DeLong son-in-law of old Mr. Reid, before mentioned, was in his house during the storm with his wife and several children. The house rocked violently with the waves, and they expected every minute to be dashed to pieces. They were rescued Monday noon. They had no fire and though wrapped in bed clothing they were very cold.

George Reid Jr. lost part of his buildings. Himself and family were at Nowesta on high ground. Israel Black also lost part of his buildings but fortunately was away.

Robert McLean's house washed away and both he and his brother Lemuel lost seed grain. The father, old Mr. McLean, is very ill and on his account the family had moved to high ground, and thus were saved from a watery grave.

The house and buildings on the farm of Joseph Shaw, who resides in this city, and rents the farm to Tunis Simmons, was destroyed, with seed wheat and other stuff.

James Craig and W.H. Purdy lost all their buildings, with seed wheat and other stuff. Themselves and families had removed.

James McClellan's fine house built to stand above 1882 mark is badly damaged.

Joseph Lareva lost buildings and everything in them including seed wheat.

On W.P Goff's place rented by Tom Murray, Murray was in the stable and the hired man was in the house. The house is gone, and there is no news from the hired man. So far as is heard this is the only probably loss of life.

District No. 12, two miles and a half southeast of Bowesmont has lost its school house.

All the buildings on the David Murray place were destroyed. James Nicholson lost part of his house and some stock. Two boys and two girls who had been left to take care of the stock were rescued on Monday.

Adam McKibben lost all buildings and contents. High Patterson's buildings are all gone.

When about a mile west of the house on the Joliette road, which was formerly the residence of Joseph Muir now deceased, and now owned by Geo. Switzer, Mr. Colley, who sat looking backward in the boat saw something like a flag flying from the top of the house. After some discussion and hesitation, as it was getting late and they wanted to get to Pembina, they concluded that it night be possible that some one was there and in trouble. So they retraced their course and went over. They found Switzer and High Patterson there. Switzer said, "How much will you take to put us ashore?" and could hardly realize the fact that Messrs Colley and Hogg had come purposely to help them. A part of the out buildings had floated away and tone whole end of the house was just attached by the top to the building. They had gone out to the buildings on Friday , the wind got up and they did not dare to venture back on account of the waves. Next day the boat had drifted away. All day Sunday they stood by the open windows ready to jump if the building should fall, hoping in that case to get to a part of the stable which still stood.

¹ - It had once been a chemistry book over 100 years ago, but Maggie O'Neill used it as a scrapbook, pasting in all the newspaper clippings she was sent from the Gamble family about events concerning the family and/or St. Vincent over a 50+ year period.

Circus!

Friday, June 30th [1893]. Pembina, N. D., N. P. R. R., 90 miles. Hotel, Winchester. Pop. 1,000. Rained nearly all day. Business good. Large excursion from the Queen’s Domain, many pleasure-seekers coming from Winnipeg to view the wonders of the Big Show. At night a heavy wind-storm frightened the audience, and they left the canvas before the conclusion of show.

Source: Official Route Book of Ringling Bros. World’s Greatest Railroad Shows, Season of 1893, Buffalo, NY: Courier Co., 1893. Circus Historical Society

Bud E. Anderson's Jungle Oddities
visited Pembina in 1939
[Click to Enlarge]

There were other circuses that came by in other years, of course:

• Great Wallace Show (Pembina on Sunday, July 15 1896)
• Forepaugh Circus (Pembina on Sunday, June 27, 1900)
• Bud E. Anderson's Jungle Oddities & 3-Ring Circus (Pembina on August 6, 1939, and Hallock on August 4, 1939)
• Carson & Barnes Circus (Pembina on June 5, 1960)

...One of the active workers is a "reformed circus man," McFarland of Pembina county, who was a performer with Van Amberg, and later a saloonkeeper. He is now radical in temperance and religion... [Source: St. Paul Daily Globe, January 31, 1887]

Evidently, going by the above quote, it wasn't considered proper work to be a circus performer, at least by some.  I always thought it was amusing that people can look down on certain other people, yet be perfectly willing to have those people entertain them.  Then again, it was a different time, and even then, not everyone agreed about these issues.

If anyone reading this have old family photos or oral history about the circus visits to our area, I'd love to hear them. You can always contact me privately through my profile on the sidebar, or leave a comment!

Trick Cycling would have been very popular with audiences
during the Bicycle craze of the 'Gay 90s' [Click to Enlarge]

Historical Home: Up in Flames

June 6/7, 2013 Fire:  All that is left of a once stately home...
[Photo Credit:  Jamie Rustad Meagher]

All that is left now is a pile of bricks, supplied to the home's original builder by the Pembina Brick Company.  Made from Red River Valley clay, the bricks were a distinctive yellow, part of what made this once stately home so striking and special.

Charles & Isabella Cavileer sold the land the house was built on to James & Barbara Webb in May 1880.  The Webbs built the house, but the date it was completed is unknown.  It became the home to many families down through the years - Judge Edward Conmy & his family among them.

Another early image of the J.G. Webb home
[Photo Credit:  State Historical Society of North Dakota]

The photograph above was taken in the late 1800s. It shows the house's west side, facing Cavileer Street.  Not too far to the east (back) is the tree line and bank down to the Pembina River.

This photo shows the house from the north side.  In the mid 1890s, a bicycle craze swept the nation.

Around 1895/96, Pembina formed a cycling club¹, whose members pose in this photo in front of the home.  The small building in the right rear of the house is likely a carriage house where a buggy was kept along with the horse that pulled it. A carriage house was the garage of the 19th century for those that could afford such things.

The only references I could find thus far, to James G. Webb - the likely original owner of the home - was one where he was once up for Postmaster in Pembina, but in less than a month, the position was rescinded.² The Cavileer family continued in that role instead. The other reference was from a few years earlier in the 1880 U.S. Census, which listed him and his family living at the Winchester House hotel as 'boarders' at the time, and his profession as 'Merchant'. They bought the land that same year. By the time the house was built, the Webb family were evidently prosperous enough to not only build their own home, but to build one that made quite a statement.  It continued to be a point of pride in the town, to the day it burned down...


[Images Courtesy of Jamie Rustad Meagher]
________________

¹ - Cycling clubs sprang up in valley communities including St. Thomas, Forest River, Jamestown, Fargo, Elbow Lake (where women organized a “Bloomers Cycling Club”), Drayton, Larimore, Minto, Towner, Hillsboro, Pembina, Dickinson, Church’s Ferry, Park River, Grafton, Gilby, Epworth, Neche, Lakota, and Buffalo, North Dakota, as well as Crookston, Moorhead, and East Grand Forks, Minnesota, where members also ordered uniforms. [From The 1890s Bicycling Craze in the Red River Valley, by Dr. Ron Spreng, Minnesota Historical Society Minnesota History Quarterly, Summer 1995]

² - See

James G. Webb's appointment as U.S. Postmaster at Pembina,
as well as the rescinding of that appointment a month later...

Old Pembina Photos - Part I of II

Recently, a friend to this blog sent me links to several of the images below, found on Digital Horizons, part of the online collection of the State Historical Society of North Dakota. I later visited the site myself and found even more. I was aware of the website, but as often happens with online collections, it's not static and changes, which is a good thing. More images are being discovered of our area all the time, and I want to share several of them with you here.

NOTE:  The first photo here shows a hotel readers of this blog should be very familiar with - at least those that have read the Chuck Walker books, Sheriff Charley Brown, and Bordertown - where it was featured in both books as well as its owner, Lucien Geroux...




Hotel built before 1882 as the Geroux House, name later changed to Winchester Hotel.
Photographer Unknown/ Ronald Olin North Dakota Postcard Collection.

BORDERTOWNS: Chapter 10

On New Year's Day Ian and Pete left St. Vincent, headed east across the ridge country toward the cabin of Henry Germaine. Ian had information that Germaine had a large cache of furs on hand. Pete was riding one of Ian's mules and was leading a second animal that carried their gear. They found the Métis' log cabin practically on the border, nestled on the south edge of heavy timber.

That night Ian examined and purchased a large number of beaver and mink pelts which had supposedly been trapped along the Two Rivers. Their host produced a sizeable jug of Hudson's Bay rum, prompting Ian to suspect the furs he was purchasing came from the Canadian side of the line. He queried Germaine, "Henry, you can't fool me. Your furs all came from across the border, probably caught along the Roseau and Rat Rivers."

Germaine belched prodigiously, and then laughed, exposing a small mouth concealed beneath a huge beard. "No matter where they from. They are here now." He thumped the table with his fist. "Damned Hudson's Bay, they want all furs but won't give anything for them, hardly no hard cash, want to give only trade goods!"

Ian exchanged a glance with Pete, who was already well into his cups. His hired man remarked judiciously, "Like he say, no matter now."

They slept on the floor of Germaine's cabin that night and awoke in the morning to find a strong northwest wind with new-falling snow. The mush Germaine fried for their breakfast was scorched, adding much to the foul odor of the cabin. A near whiteout storm was whipping up, forcing the two men to hurriedly pack up their furs and saddle-up. Ian was tempted to wait for the wind to diminish, but the thought of spending another day penned up in Henry's cabin was distasteful. While saddling the horses and putting the packs on the mule, Ian glanced out of the open-sided lean-to at the blowing snow. "It's going to be a humdinger, Pete."

Pete looked toward the west as he tightened the hitch on the mule's pack. He had a wry look on his face. "Long, cold ride home."

It was full daylight at 8:00 a.m. when they rode into the fine sifting snow, which was driven by an ever-increasing wind. Ian was forced to tighten his scarf around his high collar to prevent the snow from melting and running down his neck. After two hours on the trail he wished they had remained at Germaine's. Pete was morose and silent, evidently suffering from his over-indulgence of the previous evening.

Several times Ian surreptitiously consulted his pocket compass to reassure himself that they were headed directly west, primarily due to the fact that at times the visibility was zero. He was careful to hide his action from Pete, not wanting to show he distrusted his guide.

Near mid morning, just as they were paralleling a heavy poplar thicket on their right, the animals began to act up nervously, and then stopped. Seconds later, the two men became aware of a rumbling sound to their front. Suddenly a large group of trotting horses loomed out of the near white-out, almost colliding with them. The hard-pressed herd passed on either side of them, and momentarily they caught a brief glimpse of the two hunched figures. As they turned to watch the departing animals, they noted the herders swinging them to the north, into the bush.

Pete pulled his mule close and shouted to Ian. "Maybe twenty-thirty horse and mules. Something wrong!"

"Yes!" Ian yelled. "Did you recognize the herders?" Pete raised his hand to his mouth to deflect the strong wind. "No! Too quick!"

During the next two hours of cold, plodding travel into the angling wind, Ian puzzled over the incident. Who in his right mind would pick this day to drive horses any distance? Then a suspicion grew in his mind. Could they be stolen? Shucks! Can't be! The large number of animals precluded theft, he reasoned; even at the Pembina fort he doubted there were that many horses or mules. Still a reeling of mystery remained that he was unable to shake.

When they crossed the open sand ridge area at noon, the drifting snow thinned due to the predominance of high grass. There, coming directly toward them was a large group of horsemen. Ian noted those in the lead were soldiers; then he recognized Kirby Ralston. It was apparent the lieutenant was in command of the troops. Within moments Ian and Pete found themselves surrounded by an obviously hostile group of men. Fortunately, Kirby recognized Ian.

"What is hell are you doing out in this blizzard?" Kirby's scarf was encrusted with frost and his horse was breathing heavily, casting streams of vapor. He looked tense, almost angry.

"Are you looking for horses?" Ian suddenly realized his first suspicions were correct.

"Hell, yes, almost the entire herd from the fort. We've been following their tracks east, but we've lost them in this snow. How did you know?"

Ian became aware that several of the group were civilians from Pembina. Then he recognized Brogan and several other disreputable men.

He pointed to them. "Where did you get that crew?"

Kirby sounded disgusted. "I'm after the fort horses. This town bunch joined us after we crossed the river. They claim they lost some horses in Pembina. They aren't under my command, but, by golly, they better obey me!"

Brogan blustered, "We just came along to help." He pointed to Ian and Pete accusingly, "You'd better check that pair, Lieutenant. They're probably the thieves -- got the horses hidden away somewhere."

Ian ignored Brogan's remark. "A couple of hours ago we saw a bunch of horse -- maybe thirty. They swung north into the bush after passing by us. There were two men herding them."

"Will you backtrack and show us where they turned off?”

"Sure thing. Only trouble is, it's been blowing so hard our tracks may already be covered over." He turned to Pete. "Do you think we can find that bush where they turned?"

Pete nodded. "Sure thing! We find, and tracks still be plain in bush."

Some of the civilians crowded closely to Ian and Kirby, anxious to hear what was being said. Others were restless and began arguing. One burly, heavily bearded teamster, Eck Murphy, growled, "They cleaned out the fort corral last night after the storm blew up. We borrowed most of these horses in Pembina and St. Vincent for the chase."

Kirby questioned Pete, "You think we can catch them before they cross the border?"

Pete shrugged his shoulders questioningly, "Maybe."

A teamster spoke up angrily, "Border, hell! Maybe you soldiers can't cross it, but, by God, the rest of us can! And will! We're going to hang those bastards!"

Kirby shot back, "We're going to take them back alive if we can. Any of you with other ideas can head back home." He turned to Ian. "You ready?"

"Sure! I have my Winchester, but Pete is unarmed."

"I come too!" Pete looked around at the hard-looking group. "Lots of guns here, maybe too damn many."

Kirby turned to his men and motioned with his arm; the noise of the wind almost totally smothered his shouted command. The troopers fell into line behind him, forming a column of two's as their horses broke into a trot. The non-military men straggled behind.

The drifting snow was rapidly filling Ian and Pete's old tracks, leaving them barely discernible. It was nearly two hours later when the bush suddenly loomed up as a dark wall. Pete, who was riding beside Ian, shouted to Kirby.

Turning his horse alongside Ian, Kirby asked, "What's he want?"

A hurried conversation took place between Ian and Pete with a puzzled Kirby trying to make out Pete's broken shouting over the gusty wind noise.

Ian turned to Kirby. "He says for half of us to check along the edge of the bush for tracks where the thieves entered, then follow them slowly. The rest should swing around to the north of this bush, then spread out to cut them off on the other side. He says this is a big bush, maybe two or three miles across.

Kirby eyed the breed for moments, realizing the wisdom of his advice. "I'll take my men around to the north edge to cover it. I just hope they've stopped to rest; if they haven't, they're in Canada by now."

He turned to Murphy, one of the recently hired teamsters from the fort. "Take the fort workers and the Pembina men and find where they entered the scrub. Push them toward us if they're still in there, but give me plenty of time to get my men into place. Remember," he warned, "I want those men alive -- not dead!" From the scornful looks on the men's faces, Kirby felt a moment of distrust. He knew the teamsters and the civilians present possibly represented the dregs of the fort and the trash of the two towns. Still, he felt that his men would make the capture; surely the thieves would run from this pursuing bunch.

Turning away, Kirby and his platoon quickly broke away from the group and headed north along the west edge of the bush. Ian felt disappointed at not being asked to accompany Kirby, inasmuch as he had qualms about being left with this unsavory lot.

Minutes later, shouts indicated that one of the men had found where the stolen horses had been turned into the trees. Entering the thicket, and finally out of the wind, the men dismounted to give the soldiers time to get into position. As the bitter cold began to penetrate their clothing, the men began their drive. They were forced to lead the horses, each individual picking his own way through the tangle of deadfalls and heavy brush.

Ian estimated they had penetrated only one-half mile when the acrid odor of smoke became noticeable. Gathering together, the group discussed the possibilities of capturing the two men.

"They stop to rest," said Pete, "Build fire to eat and warm. Maybe spend the night."

Eck Murphy turned to his friends. "We'll split up and surround them. Three of us can move in on either side of them. The rest of you spread out in a line, keeping abreast. Push straight into them, but be damned careful to give us plenty of time to pen them up." He grinned, "Ralston isn't going to take this pair back to the fort if we get them!"

Ian's temper rose when he realized the men had no intention of taking the thieves alive. "You heard what the Lieutenant said, leave those men to the law if we find them. If you kill them, we'll all be in trouble."

The civilian posse exchanged sly grins. Brogan spoke up menacingly, "You keep your mouth shut, sonny! If you're not man enough to go along with us, take your breed and get the hell out of here! We don't need your advice." Under his black beard Brogan's lips curled in derision.

Ian noted the sudden look of hatred Pete gave Brogan. Having worked with Pete the past two months, he knew his hired man hated to be called a breed. He also knew Pete might be a dangerous man when crossed. To prevent an immediate confrontation, he said resignedly, "Well, we'll ride along with you, but remember, if anything untoward happens, it'll be on your heads."

Several of the men gave Ian a disgusted look. Brogan expressed his further contempt by spitting a stream of tobacco juice in Ian's direction before turning away. The men began tethering their horses to the trees around them, ignoring Ian and Pete, who obviously were not in accord with the plan.

The remaining men waited until after Eck Murphy's two flanking groups disappeared from sight. After a few minutes the penetrating cold forced the men into action. Spreading out abreast, yards apart, they began their silent drive.

Ian was hesitant to follow closely and consulted with Pete. "I wonder what will happen. Should we follow them?"

There was a stolid look on his helper's face as he nodded, and then began leading the two mules in the direction of the disappearing men.

Suddenly three rapid shots were heard some distance to their front, the signal of a rendezvous call. They could hear the crashing of brush ahead of them as the posse hurried to respond to the firing.

Following existing paths taken by the hunters, Ian and Pete caught up with the pursuers within minutes and found the men they had been following had rejoined Murphy's teamsters. The group was standing around a small fire, laughing and shouting boisterously, jeering at their two captives who had been caught in their sleeping robes. Two men were already preparing coffee at the small fire, the ingredients and pot probably garnered from the supplies carried by the thieves. Two saddled horses were tied to nearby trees. Near them other animals were standing, heads hanging with fatigue. Examining the captives closely as they lay on the ground, Ian could see the looks of despair on their faces.

Murphy's voice suddenly rang out over the clamor of conversation. "Let's get at it!"

Roughly rousting the two to their feet, the men of the posse quickly tied their hands behind their backs and hustled them under a tree. Two ropes were produced, slipknots tied, and nooses placed around the culprits' necks. Ian was forced to admire the courage of the two thieves, since neither uttered a word of protest. It seemed they accepted their obvious fate. Remembering Kirby's admonition, Ian stepped forward to protest the hanging, only to have Pete seize his arm.

"Stay, Ian. We can do nothing!"

Ian turned toward Pete and saw the drawn face and expression of disgust. In a low voice he asked, "Do you know the two men?"

"They live in the Hair Hills to the west. They are thieves." Pete looked angry. "Even so, not to hang them!"

A brief argument ensued among the men, one townsman insisting a proper hangman's knot be tied. Brogan countered, "What the hell? What's wrong with a slip knot? We're just stringing up these bastards."

Another brief argument began, some insisting they mount the prisoners on horseback. Someone else squelched that argument by throwing the end of one rope over a high out-jutting limb. The other rope end followed within seconds.

It was Murphy's voice that again rang out, "Grab the ends and hoist!" Gasping, choking sounds were heard as the ropes tightened and cut into the necks of the prisoners; they were mercilessly hoisted into the air, the rope ends tied off.

Ian felt bitter bile crawl into his mouth and the sour taste of it as the two victims jerked, kicked and twisted, slowly strangling. Many of the group laughed and joked as they watched the sickening sight; others were silent, almost as if regretting their participation.

The conversation ceased when the sound of approaching men and horses was heard from the north. Kirby and his men had heard the gunshots.

Emerging from the heavy poplar thicket into the small clearing, the lieutenant brushed the snow from his shoulders. Then he noticed the two victims. Boldly walking near the hanging men, he studied their faces. After pausing for long moments, he suddenly turned to face the civilians.

"You sons-of-bitches! Just couldn't wait, could you? I'll probably be blamed for this. He demanded vehemently, “Who’s idea was this?”

Brogan spoke up defiantly, "Shucks, just looks like two suicides to me."

Some of the guilty men pretended disinterest, turning their backs, as if busy at other things. Others were scornful, obviously siding with Brogan. Murphy interjected saucily, "Must be suicides, Lieutenant.

Kirby cast a scornful glance at the guilty men, finally turning to his platoon. "Gather up all the stolen horses and mules. We're going back to the fort tonight."

The fort soldiers approached a few of the animals to attach lead ropes in preparation for the move back to the fort. Kirby noted that Ian and Pete were standing well away from the main group of men, easing his fear that they had been involved. Addressing Ian, he said, "You two want to ride back with me?'

"You bet!" Ian felt relieved, glad to avoid any further unpleasantness.

"Wait a minute, Lieutenant. We'll all ride along with you." Brogan's voice carried a pleading tone.

"Like hell you will! I'm taking all of the stolen animals back to the fort; you can get back on your own." He pointed to the hanging bodies. "Murphy, you and the other fort teamsters pack those two bodies back to Dr. Appel's dispensary. They'll have to be accounted for."

"How about the Pembina and St. Vincent horses?" demanded Brogan. "You can't take them!"

"I can take them, and will!" Kirby replied caustically, "I doubt you men own any of them." He glared at the civilians contemptuously, "If I ever see you-all again, it will be too soon to suit me!"

When they left the woods, the wind had died; the crunching steps of the horses and creaking leather of the saddles were the only sounds. Darkness was already over-spreading the sky. The soldiers were cold, hungry and quiet.

It was long after dark when they arrived at St. Vincent, where Kirby halted the patrol briefly. Turning his horse toward Ian, he spoke in a soft voice. "Ian, will you come out to the fort in the morning and give Captain Collins your version of the hanging?" He continued speaking quietly so his men could not overhear. "I'll probably be blamed for the deaths of those two men, and in a way it was my fault. I shouldn't have trusted that bunch."

Ian nodded in agreement. "Sure, I'll come if it will help you." He added ruefully, "It's going to be mighty hard to get up in the morning. Judas! I'm cold and tired."

Breaking away from the line of troops as they resumed their way to the fort, Pete suggested, "You stay with me tonight. No sense going to Emerson, then to fort in morning."

Ian felt grateful for the offer, but apprehensive at being invited to spend the night at Grant's house. Then he thought of Susan's surprise at finding him there in the morning. An involuntary smile came as he said, "Good idea!" He turned his horse to follow Pete toward Grant's log barn near the edge of the road.

While he tended to the animals in the barn, Pete stored the purchased furs in the woodshed adjoining the house. Finally they entered the kitchen where Pete removed his heavy mittens to light a lamp. Within moments Annette appeared, dressed in a dark robe. She immediately began to converse with Pete in the Cree language. For moments Ian was totally ignored; Pete was evidently relating the happenings to her.

Ian gradually felt the pleasant warmth dissipating the long cold. He could feel his cheeks begin to burn, the numbness leaving his toes, causing them to ache. A lethargic feeling began to creep over him.

Annette finally turned to him. "Ian, I'll make coffee and fry eggs and pork. You men must be starved. Pete says neither of you has eaten since early morning. It's too late for you to go home. You can bunk with Pete." She stopped her bustling by the stove. Breaking into a smile, she pointed at Pete, saying, "If you can stand his snoring."

Ian found himself glancing at the stairs as he ate, all the while hoping Susan would awaken and join them. Evidently the remaining members of the family were sound sleepers for no one appeared.

The sound of wood being fed to the stove and the rattle of utensils awoke Ian the next morning. He became aware of the tantalizing odor of bannock being fried, and could tell oatmeal had been added to the flour and bacon fat. Swinging his legs to obtain a sitting position on the edge of the bed, he glanced at Pete, who appeared to be alternately snoring and gasping for breath. The quivering and vibrating of his lips as he exhaled brought a smile to Ian's face. Thinking he had overslept, he hurriedly dressed and entered the kitchen to find Annette cracking eggs into a frying pan. Marguerite, who was setting the table, turned to smile at him.

Grinning back guiltily, he tugged out his pocket watch to discover it was early, only a bit past six. Casting a glance out the window he noted it was still dark.

"The light of your life is primping for you," Marguerite teased. "If she'd known you stayed here last night, she'd have been the first in the kitchen this morning." Her manner then changed to a serious tone, "Mother told me about you and Pete helping the Army chase those horse thieves, and of the soldiers hanging them. I can't believe the men at the fort would do such a thing. They've always seemed so kind and polite."

"It wasn't the soldiers; they weren't the guilty ones. The dirty work was done by the fort teamsters and riff-raff from the local saloons." While he explained the details to Marguerite, Susan entered the kitchen and moved behind his chair. Her hand slipped to the back of his neck and he looked up at her longingly. Her long, shiny black hair was slowly slipping from behind one shoulder, gradually covering the side of her face as she smiled down at him.

"This is the first time you've seen her this early in the morning. She isn't always this neat." Marguerite was being mischievous.

Susan scrunched up her face at her sister. "How about you? Did you pretty-up for Ian?"

Marguerite shrugged her shoulders, raising her hand to regally smooth back her long hair. "Well, I didn't want to scare him to death. He might never come back."

Ian smiled as he turned to encircle Susan's waist with his arm. "No fear about that!"

The hinges of the bedroom door adjoining the kitchen squealed as Pete entered the room. He sat down heavily at the table, his face drawn with weariness. His hair was uncombed and his wool shirt only partially fastened, disclosing an expanse of grey wool underwear. He looked slowly around the room. Appraising the girls carefully, he turned to address Annette. "Woman, You're still the best- looking female in the house!"

The girls exchanged quick glances at this outburst, and Annette turned her face to the stove to hide her embarrassment. Ian detected, as Susan had previously implied, that there was more to their liaison than met the eye. He was glad Grant was still abed, remembering the man's sudden show of anger when Pete addressed Susan as daughter on Christmas day. Still, glancing at the faces of the two girls, he could detect no rancor.

After breakfast when Ian mentioned that Kirby had requested he go to the fort, Susan smiled. "Then you can give me a ride to Pembina. I have beds to make and rooms to clean at Geroux's hotel before school starts."

"You ride to Pembina with Ian, and I walk. That darned Charley has never given me a ride on his horse. Sometimes it seems he's ashamed of me." Marguerite seemed irritated.

Ian remained silent for he knew little of Sheriff Brown's personal life. Rather than remain for what might develop into involved talk, he went to the barn to saddle his horse. When Susan appeared, he held out his hand to ease her mount onto the horse. To his surprise she swung into the saddle instead, revealing the fact that she wore a long split skirt. She smiled down at him and reached for the reins. Shaking his head in feigned anger, he mounted behind her and kneed the horse into action. At Geroux's hotel she lightly slipped from the saddle and turned to him. "I'll be back here after school is out. I have to set the supper tables; but I'll be done before six. Will I see you again today?" There was a wistful look on her face.

"I'll see you then, and carry you home."

She smiled up at him as she turned to the hotel steps.

Sheriff Charley Brown: Chapter XVIII

On March 9 the court decision was reached, LaRose must stand trial for the murder of his wife.

Each day the three prisoners, Murray, Godon and LaRose planned their escape. As each new idea came up, it was almost instantly discarded as impractical; the guards were just too alert. They were escorted outdoors daily excepting Sunday, to a nearby cordwood pile, ordered to cut the four-foot lengths into stove size lengths for the jail heater.

Their daytime jailer was Captain Bob, an irascible man armed with a short, double barreled, 10 gauge shotgun. He remained cautiously back from his charges while outdoors, giving them no chance of overpowering him. Finally it was the wily Murray, the man charged with fraud and embezzlement that came up with the most feasible escape plan. It seemed simple, but was beset by certain circumstances for success.

Closeted with his fellow prisoners during an evening in March, he offered his scheme. "No chance of tricking Bob during the day, we can't get close to him. Also he'll not hesitate to shoot any one of us. That shotgun holds buckshot; that means we'll have to make our break at night." He pointed up to the heavy-planked ceiling of their cell, above which Lawyer Ewing kept his office. "We can cut through that ceiling if we can get a saw blade, and, if we can get the night man, Parker, out of the way."

Godon shrugged, "Where in hell are you going to get a saw blade?"

Murray grinned, "That's the easy part. We'll just slip one out of a bucksaw when we quit work."

LaRose shook his head. "Bob picks up both saws each day after we quit. He'd notice the missing blade right off. And how do you figure to get Parker out of the way long enough for us to saw through those heavy planks? That ceiling above is criss-crossed with a double layer of rough-cut, two by twelve planks. You've got to get a blade through both planks in order to start a cut."

Murray pointed to the northeast corner of the planking. "Take a look. I've spotted a narrow slot next to the wall from which we can start the cut. It's wide enough for a slender blade."

LaRose brightened, "I know how to get a blade, or at least part of one; it all depends upon fooling Bob."

"How you going to steal one?" Godon was skeptical.

"I'll pinch a blade in a log, then pretend to lose my temper and jerk the saw, that'll break the blade. Then I'll pocket the longer piece. I'll file the blade before we begin working in the morning so it'll have a good edge."

"Let's try it, but best you pretend to throw the two parts of the broken blade deep into the snow. If you don't, Bob might not fall for it." Murray shrugged, "Maybe he won't, even then."

"He's lazy! He'll be resting his butt on that far pile of cordwood. Like you say, I'll slip the longest piece into my jacket, and then make a big show of tossing the pieces far away. He'll think I've thrown both of them."

"Knowing Bob, he'll be suspicious of any change, but if we play it up, it'll look like an accident."

The next morning Captain Bob escorted the prisoners to the woodpile, seating himself on his customary spot some thirty feet away. He was a careful man, having been raked over the coals by the sheriff for drinking on the job two years previously. At the time he had been drugged after drinking from a stranger's bottle. The prisoner in his charge had been spirited from the jail, then murdered.

It was nearly 10 a.m. when Murray and Godon picked up an exceptionally heavy log, dropping it violently onto the end of the bucksaw horse. The apparently startled LaRose, who was deep in a last cut, jumped back with an oath. He jerked the saw sideways, snapping the blade neatly in the process.

"You clumsy sons-of-bitches! Now look what you've made me do! I might have cut myself."

Godon feigned anger. "You're a stupid bastard -- should have gotten out of our way."

Murray pretended to intervene. "Sorry Frank, it was my fault, I slipped and dropped my end of the log."

Meanwhile LaRose, his back turned to jailer Bob, was busy unhooking the two pieces of the broken blade. Quickly tucking a length under his jacket he exclaimed in righteous indignation. "That darn blade was nearly worn out anyway. It was only an inch wide." As he spoke he flung the remaining portion edgewise. It spun away with a whirring sound, burying itself in the deep snow. Turning to the jailer, Frank asked, "Got another blade, Bob? That one has been sharpened so many times there was nothing left of it."

Bob looked at him suspiciously. "Just put the saw on top of the cordwood pile. I'll fix it tonight. You still have the spare saw, and you've got nearly two hours until noon. When twelve o'clock rolls around and you've got those blocks hauled into the jail it’ll be eating time."

At noon while the prisoners were being fed in their cell, LaRose buried the stolen length of blade in the mud and straw chinking between the logs. Their further plan of escape depended upon deceiving their night jailer.

Again it was Murray who came up with a further plan. "Parker has got to become sick, so sick that he'll have to leave the job during the night. There's only one way to do that -- that's either by bribery, or poisoning him some way."

"You can't buy off Parker, he's honest." Godon said sullenly.

"What else can we do then?" LaRose queried.

"Murray looked at him and grinned. "Hell, you know all about that. You got rid of your wife. Say! Got any of that poison left?"

LaRose exploded, "You bastard! Say that again and I'll beat the hell out of you!"

Godon quickly moved between them. "Let it go, Murray. Calm down, Frank, he's only teasing you. We've got enough trouble as it is."

Murray brightened, "I have it! Godon, you're going to get sick. You're going to miss a lot of meals!" He smiled, "You can stand to lose some weight, can't you?"

"What do'ya want me to do?"

"You're going to get sick, real sick. You can't eat. Your belly hurts something terrible, and you have no appetite. If you play it up enough, they'll take you out to the fort for observation and treatment."

"What good will that do?"

"Out at the fort you'll be housed in the hospital. There are chemicals out there that will knock a man out, something like Chloral Hydrate. That's what you've got to swipe. With that we can dose up Parker's supper. It might not work, but it's our only chance. The eating table is near the cell so we should be able to distract him long enough to dose his food or drink."

Godon lay back on the wooden bunk. “I'll play sick right after breakfast tomorrow morning, but you'd better tell me what to look for out at the fort. I don't know anything about pills or medicine."

"Chloral has a funny taste," said LaRose. "How will we get him to take it?"

Murray shrugged, "Doesn't necessarily have to be Chloral, there are emetics available." He turned to Godon, "The doctor out there will probably try to purge you. You're not stupid -- watch and listen. Then try to swipe some of what he gives you."

Godon refused his breakfast the next morning. His plate was not touched and the day guard, Captain Bob, immediately became suspicious. He watched the other two prisoners carefully, suspecting something was up. He hoped to catch them feeding Godon surreptitiously from their plates.

Godon complained of great pain, moaning aloud and occasionally cursing. On the second day of his sickness, Dr. Appel was notified. After checking Godon carefully he could find no outward sign of a serious nature, and prescribed an emetic, which he watched Godon take. "It's probably something in the victuals, Bob. Some people can't eat certain foods."

Bob snorted, "Hell, Doctor, they've all eaten the same stuff and Jud Winchester puts up mighty fine grub. I think he's putting on an act."

Appel laughed, "If it is, look out! I just gave him a massive dose of an emetic and watched him swallow it. You'd better give him an extra pail; he'll soon need it.”

Godon's act ended when he became violently ill with stomach cramps. The next morning he began to eat heartily, but it was apparent he bore a sudden malice toward his cellmate, Murray.

After their meeting at Geroux's hotel in mid-February, and their evening together in his quarters above the saloon, the relationship between Charley and Marguerite returned to a placid understanding. Marguerite decided that to avoid friction, she determined the subject of marriage would never be mentioned again unless brought up by Charley. Opportunities to further their romance became almost non-existent due to the frequent blizzards and high winds. Marguerite found herself wanting more and more, and getting little satisfaction. When Charley suggested another stop at his upstairs quarters she shook her head firmly, determined she would not become a sneak thief to hide their love. Paul's letters became all the more intriguing when he mentioned his new promotion. He was no longer traveling the road full time; he was to be in charge of sales for the states of Wisconsin and Minnesota.

His letters expressed his love in warm, newsy letters, extolling the advantages of Chicago. He was especially effusive about the Chicago Academy of Fine Arts that offered training in painting, drawing, sculpture, illustrating, decorative design and architecture. "Think of the opportunity to further your portrait painting! You could become famous here!"

The thought of such a school appealed to Marguerite's esthetic sense. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if I had such a chance." She knew she had gone as far as possible under Mrs. Mostyn's tutelage. Even that lady had said she should seek advanced training for her obvious talent.

Many of his letters postmarked Evanston were a mystery until Paul explained that Northwestern University was located just north of Chicago. He was now attending a night class in business administration, a graduate course, often dropping his letters to her in a local mailbox at the school.

A strange feeling seemed unveiled within her, questioning her judgment. What's wrong with me, thinking of Paul, a man I hardly know? I've got to put him out of my mind, but I can't!

April arrived with vigor, the bright sunlight pouncing upon and gobbling up the remaining snow. The almost constant sunlight brought myriads of geese, ducks and songbirds. The radiant rebirth of spring caused instant budding of the softwoods. Sleeping dogwood trees suddenly opened white blossoms to view that in turn awoke bees from their deep sleep. For a brief week the streets were a morass of mud and sticky gumbo, then the ruts magically dried to rough, buggy-jarring ridges.

Again Marguerite's contacts with Charley were brief, almost nonexistent, limited to an occasional lunch or cup of coffee together. She knew he made daily trips to his farm to prepare his fields for cropping. She also knew the work was tedious and that he came home at night completely exhausted. More and more she began to re-read Paul's letters, wondering if she was making a horrible mistake by continuing to hope for Charley's proposal. She found discussions with Susan often disappointing, her sister advising restraint. Even so, when Marguerite displayed letters from Paul, Susan read them with obvious interest. At one time she turned to ask, "Do you love Paul?"

"I can't say I do. I've been in love with Charley for the past two years but my love for him seems hopeless. I'm beginning to wonder if he really wants a wife. Perhaps my future is with Paul. I think I could grow to love him; he's everything a girl could ask for. I realize I only knew him for that week, but it was a week of excitement."

Susan commiserated, "Sometimes, the people we love don't love us the way we expect them to."