Dakota Diary 16 - Fort Lincoln and the River

We had wondered what we would do on Wednesday, but when we got home on Tuesday night, we had another little note in our pigeon hole.

Girls, I have to go to Ft. Lincoln tomorrow and wondered if you would like to come along. I will stop by your hotel at 9, so if you want to go with me, be ready. You will also get to see a bit of the bridge,
although we won’t be able to cross on it.

Linda

What fun! There was no doubt that we would be ready when she came to call. We went to bed with our heads spinning with all our adventures past and yet to come.

On time, as promised, Linda and her three daughters came to call for us in their buggy and we set off for the ferry on the Missouri.

“Did you girls know there was a terrible flood here a few years ago?” asked Linda.

She didn’t wait for our response but set in telling us about it. “Most Bismarck residents, like us, with their homes up on the hills out of the river’s reach made light of it, and Capt. William Braithwaite
ran his steamer Eclipse to the foot of Third Street, near your hotel, where passengers boarded for a trip to Mandan, the greater part of which, like the five miles of river bottom land between the two towns was under water.

“Everybody on a the boat apparently danced and had a good time. Not so pleasant, however, were the experiences of those who lived in the lowlands. The flood came upon them suddenly, drowning their horses and cattle, inundating their homes, and forcing many to climb trees. Perched
above the muddy swirling waters and floating cakes of ice, several of these unfortunates froze their hands and feet and otherwise suffered from exposure. Wildlife also suffered because of the flood and deer and other game could be seen floating down the river on cakes of ice.”

The river area was quite busy - with the railway people getting on with their jobs, and the various groups of people waiting to cross to Mandan, and go beyond into the West. That was where we would be going when we got the word about the Badlands trip.

The crossing was rough - even though the Missouri looked calm enough on this lovely hot day. But it is a wild river - and there are always obstacles floating down it - like logs - which have to be avoided.
But within half an hour we were on dry land again and heading south, right along the river, another few miles to the Fort.

Linda explained that she came over here once in awhile - because there was an exceptional talent in one of the young boys. She wanted to make sure it was nurtured and his teacher at the Fort did not have the experience that she had. She thought he would one day become a famous poet - and she wanted to make sure that his talent was recognised and heralded.

Fort Abraham Lincoln was a small town in itself. There were the houses for the officers, and the barracks for the troops. Across the road were eating places and saloons for the men to spend their money, and no doubt there were several ladies of the night willing to exchange their favors for a bit of hard cash.

High on each corner of the fort was a block house with guards posted with rifles - although the chance of an attack was not that great now that the Indians were more or less subdued.

We went to the house of the Foleys. James Foley was a soldier - not an officer, but because he had his family with him, they had a house of their own. Linda introduced us to Rachel, his wife, and her sister Mary Shryock.

“What an interesting name that is,” I couldn’t help saying.” What country do you originate from?”

“Pennsylvania - is where we were born. And our parents before us.”

Linda said she was planning on doing some work with young James, the poet, and he and his brothers and sisters were introduced to us. And then she said,” James, would you be willing to read your poem about the Gingercake Man to these women. They are going to be teachers, like I am, and I think they would love to see how much a child of your age is able to do.”

He agreed eagerly, and went off to get his copy. Then standing straight,and proud, he said his piece. Later he gave us a copy.

the gingercake man was a lump of brown dough

till a great rolling pin was run over him, so!

to flatten him out, and he lay there so thin,

his bones almost popped through the holes in his skin;

 

they sifted him over with flour and spice,

and made him some eyes with two kernels of rice,

and took some dried currants, the biggest and best,

to make him some buttons for closing his vest.

 

the gingercake man wobbled this way and that

when they seeded a raisin and made him a hat

that was stuck on his head in the jauntiest way

For a gingercake man is not made every day.

 

they stuck in some cloves for his ears yes, indeed!

and made him some teeth out of caraway seed,

and when it had finished they buttered a pan -

the biggest they had - for the gingercake man.

 

then into the oven they put him to bake

until he was hard and could stand and not break

his legs when he stood; and they set him to cool

until all the children should come home from school.

 

and oh, the delight and the wonder and glee

when mother invited the children to see,

all sifted with sugar and out of the pan,

the good-natured face of the gingercake man.

 

But alas and alas! ‘tis a short life and sweet

in the gingercake man’s for they ate off his feet,

they broke off his arms with the hungriest zest,

and picked all the buttons from out of his vest;

 

they nibbled his legs off and ate up his hat,

and everything edible went just like that,

till the cloves and the kernels of rice you may scan

is all that is left of the gingercake man.”

He gave a little bow.

We clapped when he was through and told him how wonderful it was.

“And he has lots more of those,” said Linda.

“Now, while I'm teaching him, the rest of you go to see Captain Harmon, who is the Post Trader. I know you'll enjoy getting to know his wife.”

So we went out into the main quadrangle of the camp - and the girls showed us the way to the trading post.

“Now that the Indian wars are over, I suppose there aren’t as many soldiers here any more,” I commented to young Linda.

“Well, there still seem to be a lot of them, but the 7th Cavalry - who were involved with the Battle of the Little Big Horn, and also the capture of Chief Joseph back in 77 - they've all gone to Fort Meade in South Dakota, back in June last year,” she answered.

When we got into the post, the girls were obviously well known. An Indian woman came over and put her arms around each of them in turn.

“Zoe Lulu, I would like you to meet our guests. These are Mattie and Cora Sue Kellogg - from Connecticut. It was their father who went as a reporter with Custer and got killed with him,” said Rosalind, the eldest.

“Oh, you poor girls,” she crooned, and then she gave each of us a hug too.

“Let me introduce you to my children - this is Leo, eleven, Milan, seven, and William, four.”

We smiled at the children, who went away to one side of the shop to continue what they had been doing before.

“Now, you know about Sitting Bull, don’t you?” she asked us.

We nodded, and said we had read and heard a lot about him.

“Well, my mother, who is called Matilde Picotte Galpin (pictured above) - she is also known as Eagle Woman, is his sister, and she is the only female Sioux chief there ever was. It was she who signed the 82 Standing Rock treaty. Sitting Bull was still in prison then. She is the daughter of the Hunkpapa Two Kettle, and his wife was Rosy Light of Dawn. Sitting Bull has promised to give me his pipe when he dies.”

“We are so interested in all there is to know about Sitting Bull and his family,” said Cora Sue.

“My husband, Captain Harmon, was born in Maine. He was a Civil war vet from Minnesota and got to be Captain in the regular army - but he isn’t in the army now. He owned the steamer, HM Rice, and
then he did government contract work and up to recently we’ve been on a ranch in Montana - east of O’Fallon creek. But now we're here, running this trading post.

“Sitting Bull came to see us while being 'escorted' on the steamer General Sherman.”

“Was your father an Indian?” asked Cora Sue.

“Charles Galpin was my father. His grandparents were called Picotte and they claim French heritage. My mother, Matilda, first had a country marriage with Honore Picotte, American Fur Co. trader in Dakota. She had only two daughters, me and Louise. Father DeSmet is credited with
telling Honore to go home to his white wife in St. Louis. But whether it is true or not, we don’t know,” she laughed.

“We have heard quite a bit about Father DeSmet from the nuns,” I added.

“Maybe he did go home because then she then married Ft. Abraham Lincoln clerk & Civil War veteran Charles Galpin and had two more daughters. Alma married Henry Parkin who was a clerk here at Ft. Abraham Lincoln, and in now store manager at Standing Rock, trading post of Ft .Yates, and Lucy Annie married Charles Van Solen from the town of Solen. Pretty good to have a town named after you.

“Charles and Matilda were frequent interpreters and part of Father Pierre DeSmet's 1868 peace commission. Charles died in 1869 and Matilda became the trader. It was unusual for a woman do that. She is credited as being a peace keeper. Her full name is 'Eagle Woman That All Look At'. She is, by all accounts, very capable. My brother, Charles Francois Picotte, was granted 640 acres
outside of reservation at Yankton for his assistance in getting the treaty signed by the US Government. He bought an additional 30 acres to get river access and it became the site of the new territorial capitol Yankton. It was first called Charlie's Town. But,of course, it isn’t that any more and is he sore!” She laughed again.

So now I asked if we could meet any of Indians who might have known my father.

“Not many of the Indians here now, as scouts, were around in 1876. They are pretty young, and would have been children at that time,” she said. “But I will take you over and introduce you to some of the women. The men are busy about their business.”

So we walked over to one of the tepees and she said something in their language. Out came three lovely young women, and they smiled at us.

“They don’t speak English, but I will tell you their names anyway. This is Crow Woman,” indicating the oldest woman in the group, but still only about our age, “and she is married to Red Star. That little one is Proud Woman, who is married to Red Tail, and the little girl is the daughter of Bears Ears, the head scout. She is called Red Eye.”

We didn’t really know what to do then, but smiled back at the women and said, “Pleased to meet you.”

We went back into the trading post and I decided we should do some shopping. So with Zoe Lulu’s help, we picked out beaded moccasins for our niece and nephew, and necklaces, each of them quite
different, in various beads and some with feathers, for Aunt Lillie, Grandma and each of us. I wondered how Grandma, who hated Indians so much, would react to them.

Before long, Linda returned from giving her lesson, and we took our leave of Ft. Abraham Lincoln.