<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></SPAN>CHAPTER XIX</h2>
<p class="center">IN THE VALLEY OF THE KEYA PAHA. THE RIVALS.
THE VIGILANTS</p>
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<p class="cap_1">NOTHING is more essential to the upbuilding
of the small western town,
than a good agricultural territory, and
this was where Calias found its first
handicap. When it had moved to its new location,
scores of investors had flocked to the town,
paying the highest prices that had ever been paid
for lots in a new country town, of its kind, in the
central west.</p>
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<p>Twenty-five miles south of the two towns, where
a sand stream known as the Keya Paha wends its
way, is a fertile valley. It had been settled thirty
years before by eastern people, who hauled their
hogs and drove their cattle and sheep fifty miles
in a southerly direction, to a railroad. Although
the valley could not be surpassed in the production
of corn, wheat, oats, and alfalfa, the highlands on
either side are great mountains of sand, which produce
nothing but a long reddish grass, that stock
will not eat after it reaches maturity, and which
stands in bunches, with the sand blown from around
its roots, to such an extent that riding or driving
over it is very difficult.</p>
<p>These hills rise to heights until they resemble
the Sierras, and near the top, on the northwest slope
of each, are cave-like holes where the strong winds
have blown a squeegee.</p>
<p>The wagon road to the railway on the south was
sandy and made traveling over it slow and hazardous
by<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</SPAN></span>
the many pits and dunes. Therefore, it is
to be seen, when the C. & R.W. pushed its line
through Megory County, everything that had been
going to the road on the south began immediately
to come to the road on the north—where good hard
roads made the traveling much easier, and furthermore,
it was only half the distance.</p>
<p>Keya Paha County was about as lonely a place
as I had ever seen. After the sun went down, the
coyotes from the adjacent sand hills, in a series of
mournful howls, filled the air with a noise which
echoed and re-echoed throughout the valley, like
the music of so many far-away steam calliopes and
filled me with a cold, creepy feeling. For thirty
years these people had heard no other sound save the
same monotonous howls and saw only each other.
The men went to Omaha occasionally with cattle,
but the women and children knew little else but
Keya Paha County.</p>
<p>During a trip into this valley the first winter I
spent on the homestead, in quest of seed wheat,
I met and talked with families who had children, in
some instances twenty years of age, who had never
seen a colored man. Sometimes the little tads
would run from me, screaming as though they had
met a lion or some other wild beast of the forest.
At one place where I stopped over night, a little
girl about nine years of age, looked at me with so
much curiosity that I became amused, finally
coaxing her onto my knee. She continued to look
hard at me, then meekly reached up and touched
my chin, looked into my eyes, and said: "Why don't
you wash your face?" When supper was ready
went<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</SPAN></span>
to the sink and washed my face and hands;
she watched me closely in the meanwhile, and when
I was through, appeared to be vexed and with an
expression as if to say: "He has cleaned it thoroughly,
but it is dirty still."</p>
<p>About twenty years previous to this time, or about
ten years after settlement in this valley, the pioneers
were continually robbed of much of their young
stock. Thieving outlaws kept up a continuous
raid on the young cattle and colts, driving them onto
the reservation, where they disappeared. This
continued for years, and it was said many of the
county officials encouraged it, in a way, by delaying
a trial, and inasmuch as the law and its procedure
was very inadequate, on account of the county's
remote location, the criminals were rarely punished.</p>
<p>After submitting to such until all reasonable patience
had been exhausted, the settlers formed "a
vigilant committee," and meted out punishment to
the evil doers, who had become over-bold and were
well known. After hanging a few, as well as whipping
many, the vigilanters ridded the county of
rustlers, and lived in peace thereafter.</p>
<p>At the time the railroad was built to Megory there
was little activity other than the common routine
attending their existence. But with Megory
twenty-five miles to the north, and many of her
former active and prosperous citizens living there;
and while board walks and "shack" buildings still
represented the Main Street, Megory was considered
by the people of the valley very much of a city, and
a great place to pay a visit. Many had never seen
or ridden on a railroad train, so Megory sounded in
Keya<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</SPAN></span>
Paha County as Chicago does to the down
state people of Illinois.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i134" name="i134"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/i134.jpg" alt="" /> <p class="ctext">Made a declaration that he would build a town. <SPAN href="#Page_122">(page 122.)</SPAN></p> </div>
<p>The people of Keya Paha County had grown
prosperous, however, and the stock shipments comprised
many train loads, during an active market.
Practically all this was coming to Megory when
Calias began to loom prominent as a model little
city.</p>
<p>I could see two distinct classes, or personages, in
the leaders of the two towns. Beginning with
Ernest Nicholson, the head of the firm of Nicholson
Brothers and called by Megoryites "chief," "high
mogul," the "big it" and "I am," in absolute control
of Calias affairs; and the former Keya Paha County
sand rats—as they are sometimes called—running
Megory. The two contesting parties presented a
contrast which interested me.</p>
<p>The Nicholson Brothers were all college-bred
boys, with a higher conception of things in general;
were modern, free and up-to-date. While Megory's
leaders were as modern as could be expected, but
were simply outclassed in the style and perfection
that the Calias bunch presented. Besides, the
merchants and business men—in the "stock yards
west of Megory," as Calias was cartooned by a
Megory editor, were much of the same ilk. And
referring to the cartoon, it pictured the editor of the
Calias News as a braying jackass in a stock pen,
which brought a great laugh from Megoryites, but
who got it back, however, the next week by being
pictured as a stagnant pond, with two Megory editors
as a couple of big bull-frogs. This had the effect
of causing the town to begin grading the streets,
putting<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</SPAN></span>
in cement walks and gutters, for Megory
had located in the beginning in an extremely bad
place. The town was located in a low place, full of
alkali spots, buffalo wallows underlaid with hardpan,
which caused the surface to hold water to such an
extent, that, when rain continued to fall any
length of time, the cellars and streets stood in water.</p>
<p>But Megory had the start, with the largest and
best territory, which had by this time been developed
into improved farms; the real farmer was fast replacing
the homesteader. It had the biggest and best
banks. Regardless of all the efficiency of Calias,
it appeared weak in its banking. Now a farmer
could go to Nicholson Brothers, and get the largest
farm loan because the boys' father was president of
an insurance company that made the loan, but
the banks there were short in the supply of
time loans on stock security, but Calias' greatest
disadvantage was, that directly west in Tipp County
the Indians had taken their allotments within
seven or eight miles of the town, and there was
hardly a quarter section to be homesteaded.</p>
<p>Now there was no doubt but that in the course
of time the Indian allotments would be bought,
whenever the government felt disposed to grant
the Indian a patent; which under the laws is
not supposed to be issued until the expiration of
twenty-five years. People, however, would probably
lease the land, break it up and farm it; but that
would not occur until some future date, and Calias
needed it at the present time.</p>
<p>A western town, in most instances, gets its boom
in the beginning, for later a dry rot seems an inevitable
condition,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</SPAN></span>
and is likely to overtake it after the
first excitement wears away. Resurrection is rare.
These were the conditions that faced the town on
the Little Crow, at the beginning of the third year of
settlement.</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</SPAN></span></p>
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