The notices of sale, which had been posted throughout the neighborhood,
was held the following day. The attendance was good, and its success,
financially, exceeded Travis Gully's expectations, bringing him a much
larger amount than he had hoped to realize. This was no doubt due to the
spirited bidding of numerous relatives and friends, who chose this
method of aiding the departing family.
After the last of those who had bought had taken their purchases and
departed, and but a few of the idle curious remained, viewing the small
pile of articles that had proven unsalable, the reaction came to Travis
Gully in a manner that fairly staggered him. As he beheld this remnant
of his years of accumulation of personal effects laying discarded and
rejected by all, he glanced in the direction of his huddled wife and
children, who were awaiting the departure of the vehicle which was to
carry them to her parents home. Haggard and dejected they looked. He had
not counted on the effect on them, and it smote him. "Oh, well, they
would soon be settled again, and in a home of their own, where every
nail that was driven, every tree that was planted, would be for them,
and would be theirs." With this consoling thought, he thrust his hand
into his pocket and walked toward the barn. He started as his finger
tips came in contact with the money, the proceeds of the sale. Drawing
it forth, he held it for a moment and stared. This, then, was the price
of his wife and children's content; t'was for the acquirement of this
that he had dispoiled their poor little home, and they were, at that
very moment, looking regretfully at the little pile of rubbish, each and
every article of which, though refused by others, could be associated
with some pleasant moment of their lives.
Returning the money to his pocket, and with such thoughts as the above
filling his mind, he entered the barn. There, too, he was overcome with
a feeling of loneliness; the empty stalls where for years his team had
stood, the unfinished feed of hay in the manger just as they had left it
when those faithful creatures had been led away by the hand of new
owners; the cobs from which the corn had been eagerly bitten were still
damp from contact with the mouths that had yielded so willingly to his
guiding hand. Noting each little detail as it gnawed its way into his
soul, he broke down, and with bowed head he wept as only a grief
stricken man can, and thus they found him when he was sought, to tell
him that they were ready to take him and his family, for the last time,
from the home they had occupied for so many years.
The few unsold articles of household goods and those reserved to be
taken on the trip, together with the family, were taken to the home of
Mrs. Gully's parents, where they were to remain until final preparations
for the journey were completed. The evening after and the day following
the sale were both long to be remembered periods in the lives of those
concerned. At intervals friends or relatives would call to bid farewell,
and to wish the Gullys Godspeed on their journey. At such times the
subject of the trip was taken up and discussed, but was referred to at
other times as seldom as possible.
The term "The Northwest" was usually applied in a general way. None of
those directly interested seemed to appreciate the vast area comprising
this territory. Their conception of it was confined to an area about the
size of the county in which they lived, or at best, a portion of their
home state. They readily received and promised to deliver messages to
those of their neighborhood who had preceded them on the journey.
The selection of a final destination was the question of most
importance. The states of Montana, Idaho, Washington and Oregon each
offered exceptional opportunities to the homesteaders with limited
means. So after deciding to buy through tickets to a coast point, with
stopover privilege, there was nothing to do but await the day of
departure.
At last the Monday came that was to be an epoch in the lives of Travis
Gully and his family. It being but a few miles to the station, an early
noonday meal was eaten, bounteous supplies of lunches were stored neatly
away for the travelers who, with their various trunks, satchels and
bundles, were loaded into a wagon and sent to the village earlier in the
day, the family following after lunch. The intervening time between
their arrival at the station and that of the train upon which they were
going was one of intense excitement. The unaccustomed ordeal of
purchasing tickets, reserving berths in the tourist sleeper, and
checking the baggage, together with constant interruptions with offers
of well meant advice and suggestions from their friends, kept nerves
strained to the breaking point.
At the sound of the whistle of the incoming train, hearts throbbed
wildly, or missed a stroke; the children were hurriedly embraced, the
parting kiss and tender final pat given; the mother and father came
forward to bid Gully and his wife goodbye; then pent up feeling broke
their bonds and mother and daughter wept in each others arms. Amid this
scene of sorrow, excitement and flurry the train, with grinding brakes,
hissing air valves and clanging bell, drew up to the station and
stopped.
The time between the stopping of the train and the conductors deep,
gutteral, "All aboard," seemed but the briefest, yet 'twas ample, and
with final good-byes said and tears hastily dried, they were bundled
helter skelter into their seats, and with the waving of many hands from
the station platform, they were on their way.
As the train's speed increased and familiar objects were being rapidly
left behind, with new and strange landscapes being reeled off, the
children, with eager faces pressed closely to the car windows, gave
joyous expressions of childish delight, while the mother sat silent,
oblivious to her surroundings.
Travis Gully, with his newborn spirit of independent manhood struggling
within him, sat stolidly awaiting the approaching conductor, as if
uncertain of the fact that he was really going, until he had submitted
the mass of yellow and green strips of cardboard, which he was firmly
clutching in his hand, to that official for inspection.
Settled down at last for the long journey over new country, the constant
change of new scenes and experiences kept the family entertained and
their minds diverted from their personal discomforts, and they soon gave
evidence of interest and delight. The wife's spirits being thus revived,
she viewed the panorama of passing scenes with ever increasing interest,
and discussed her future plans and hopes with feverish eagerness. As
their first night as tourists approached, and the outer world was shut
out by darkness, the berths were made ready by the deft hands of the
train porter, and both upper and lower sections were huddled full of
drowsy and fretful children. The unaccustomed noise and noisome
atmosphere gave but little promise of rest for the tired father and
mother. Long into the night they lay awake, their minds filled with
hope, fear and uncertainty, that crowded their way to the front with
such rapidly changing sensations that exhaustion finally overcame them,
and with the constant rattle of the train, as it crossed the joints in
the rails, dinning its way into their benumbed brains, they sank into
unconsciousness.
Morning found them but little refreshed, but after partaking of the
steaming coffee, prepared on a stove with which the car was equipped for
the purpose, and eating a hearty meal, they took note of the changed
appearance of the country through which they were passing. Miles and
miles of flat level country, partially covered with snow, drifted by the
winter wind, with an occasional spot swept bare, which showed the brown
stubble of the wheat field or plowed ground made ready for the spring
planting. Fences were rare, and looking out across the country, the home
could be seen, and they appeared miles apart; straw stacks, around which
frowsey haired horses and cattle stood, dotted the landscape.
The afternoon of their second day out the blue foothills of the Rockies
could be seen in the distance, and as they gradually drew nearer, they
were whirled through miles of barren waste of sage brush, the shrub that
was to play an ever active part in their future lives.
The three days following were much the same; over mountains, valleys,
plains and steams they were speeded until, becoming inured to the
constant changes, they ceased to comment. The grandure of the scenery
did not appeal to their undeveloped finer senses; they were simply awed
by its vastness.
The morning of their arrival at Wenatchee, Washington, the point chosen
for their first stop, was bright and clear. The fresh mountain air swept
down from the pine covered slopes of the hills that surrounded one of
the most fertile valleys in the state, in the heart of which nestled the
little city, justly famed for its magnificent fruit. Miles of splendid
orchards, starting at the very threshold of the business blocks,
extended back to the hills on both sides of the valley. The low drone
of the bees as they swarmed forth among the fast swelling buds in quest
of the first sip of nectar, mingled with the roar of the turbulent
Columbia river, and made music that soothed the tired travelers as
nothing else could.
Travis Gully was impressed with the signs of plenty that were visable at
every hand. By inquiry, he learned that hundreds of acres as valuable as
that contained in the surrounding valley were available for
homesteading. All it needed was water. He soon made the acquaintance of
a professional "Locator," a human parasite that hovers around the border
of all Government land. In this particular instance the "locator" was a
venerable patriarch, with flowing white beard and benign countenance,
who assured Gully that "He had just the place for him. It was about
fifty miles back over the route he had come. Did he not remember that
beautiful stretch of rolling land through which he had passed? That was
the place. Thousands of acres of this fine land was now being taken up
by homesteaders. He must act quickly or his opportunity would be gone."
After listening to a glowing description of this paradise, Gully agreed
to accompany him to see the land, which he did the following day.
There are times when it seems that fate plays into the hand of the
trickster, and on this particular day nature was extremely lavish with
her blessings. Never had the spring sun shone more brightly, the balmy
air was laden with the elixir of good will and contentment, every
soothing draught taken into the lungs spread like an intoxicant,
filling the brain with dreams of success and achievements that danced
just ahead, almost within reach, yet still to be striven for.
Gully, whose mind was filled with the contents of the circulars he had
read, and who had seen the statements made therein, verified in the
locality he had chosen to make his first stop, firmly believed in the
possibilities of the land shown him, and made filing on it immediately
upon his return to the town. He did not question the possibilities of
irrigation or take into account its remoteness; neither did he
investigate the results of past efforts put forth by others in this
conquest of the desert. It was not a desert to him. The winter's snow,
that had just disappeared, had left abundance of moisture in evidence.
Grass was springing up in profusion, and countless wild flowers attested
the fertility of the soil.
So after the necessary arrangements had been made, he came with his
family, all eager to do their part in the preparation of their future
home. Kind neighbors, though few there were, came with offers to help
erect the house. The family was provided with shelter until such time as
the structure was habitable, and they were happy under these new
conditions; they who had never known a harsher fate than the demands of
an exacting landlord for his annual toll, the regular routine of
settling the yearly account with the trusting merchant in the nearby
village, and a frugal existence through the winter on what remained of
the year's yield. Oh! happy renter, there; should his yield be scant or
insufficient, there was someone to appeal to for assistance, which was
gladly given. The homefolks were there, and others to extend help and
sympathy at the time of misfortune, but on the desert, what? A home of
your own.
At last the home was completed; just two rooms, with a board roof, the
outer walls adorned with tar paper held in place with laths, and when
they moved in joy reigned in this primitive home. A rough board table,
two benches and a cook stove, cooking utensils, still shining with the
burnish of new tin, shone upon the walls just outside the kitchen door,
a shelf with new tin basin and water pail were provided. The remaining
room was furnished with two beds, built of scraps of lumber, the corners
of the room forming one side and the head, discarded balewire, woven
across, took the place of springs; three family portraits, done in
crayon, a gaudy calendar of the year before, bearing the general
merchandise advertisement of the faithful old merchant at home, a nickel
alarm clock upon a shelf, and the home was furnished. But it was a home
of their own.