Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.) -- Fiction; Western stories
Until lately the Western citizen has known one every-day experience that
no dweller in our thirteen original colonies has had for two hundred
years. In Massachusetts they have not seen it since 1641; in Virginia
not since 1628. It is that of belonging to a community of which every
adult was born somewhere else. When you come to think of this a little
it is dislocating to many of your conventions. Let a citizen of Salem,
for instance, or a well-established Philadelphia Quaker, try to imagine
his chief-justice fresh from Louisiana, his mayor from Arkansas, his
tax-collector from South Carolina, and himself recently arrived in a
wagon from a thousand-mile drive. To be governor of such a community
Ballard had travelled in a wagon from one quarter of the horizon; from
another quarter Wingo had arrived on a mule. People reached Boise in
three ways: by rail to a little west of the Missouri, after which it was
wagon, saddle, or walk for the remaining fifteen hundred miles; from
California it was shorter; and from Portland, Oregon, only about five
hundred miles, and some of these more agreeable, by water up the
Columbia. Thus it happened that salt often sold for its weight in
gold-dust. A miner in the Bannock Basin would meet a freight teamster
coming in with the staples of life, having journeyed perhaps sixty
consecutive days through the desert, and valuing his salt highly. The
two accordingly bartered in scales, white powder against yellow, and
both parties content. Some in Boise to-day can remember these bargains.
After all, they were struck but thirty years ago. Governor Ballard and
Treasurer Hewley did not come from the same place, but they constituted
a minority of two in Territorial politics because they hailed from north
of Mason and Dixon's line. Powhattan Wingo and the rest of the Council
were from Pike County, Missouri. They had been Secessionists, some of
them Knights of the Golden Circle; they had belonged to Price's Left
Wing, and they flocked together. They were seven--two lying unwell at
the Overland, five now present in the State-House with the Governor and
Treasurer. Wingo, Gascon Claiborne, Gratiot des Peres, Pete Cawthon, and
F. Jackson Gilet were their names. Besides this Council of seven were
thirteen members of the Idaho House of Representatives, mostly of the
same political feather with the Council, and they too would be present
at noon to receive their pay. How Ballard and Hewley came to be a
minority of two is a simple matter. Only twenty-five months had gone
since Appomattox Court-House. That surrender was presently followed by
Johnston's to Sherman, at Durhams Station, and following this the
various Confederate armies in Alabama, or across the Mississippi, or
wherever they happened to be, had successively surrendered--but not
Price's Left Wing. There was the wide open West under its nose, and no
Grant or Sherman infesting that void. Why surrender? Wingos, Claibornes,
and all, they melted away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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