[or-roots] 1868

[Cecil Houk]

My last known ancestor to cross the Oregon trail in a wagon
was my great grandfather, Jacob Houk Jr, and his in laws.




HISTORY OF A PIONEER FAMILY
Written by Florence (Courtney) Melton 1857-1926
signed by her 24 February 1923 and later donated to
Garfield Co, WA Historical Museum in Pomeroy, WA

     Florence Courtney Melton was the sister of my great grandmother Sarah
Jane Courtney Houk.  The family moved several times.  They started in Ohio,
moved to Minnesota, to Iowa, and then in 1868 they moved to Oregon.  My
grand father was born in Lebanon, Oregon about 20 days after they arrived.
My great grandparents stayed in Oregon, but the rest of the family relocated
near Walla Walla, Washington.

from part 1

http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/%7Ecchouk/courtney/

  Well, the war came to an end.  The boys came home.  Baxter was brought
home with a southern malaria.  No one thought he would live, but Mother.
Brother Jake went to Missouri and bought a load of apples.  Why he was gone
our folks had a run of typhoid fever.  Sarah and Father were sick at one
time, and lay for weeks.  The nursing depended on Mother and Mary.  Houk had
to ride for the doctor and supplies.  Baxter recovered enough so that he
could do some of the chores, and tried to gather corn.  About the time the
first ones could sit up, Mother and Mary took the fever.  Houk and I were
the only ones to escape.  Frank took it, and Mary cared for him until she
got so sick she had to go to bed herself.  I had to practically live out of
doors.  If the sick folks even saw me they were sure I was making noise that
disturbed them.  So I stayed out of door and picked chips and carried wood
to the door.  I ate tomatoes from morning until night.  There were
quantities of them going to waste in the garden.  The neighbors all had sick
of their own - hardly enough well ones to care for the sick.  Late that fall
Houk completed the house he had began in August.  They moved to their own
home the last of November.  It was very hard for the boys to settle down
after four years in the south.  They farmed 1866 and 1887.  The winter of
1867 was very cold.

[Moving to Oregon]

     I don't know who proposed it.  It was decided to come west to Oregon.
They sold their homes.  We fitted two wagons.  Houk fitted one wagon and had
three horses.  Mary had one horse.  Ahira Morse had a horse.  He drove one
wagon.  We furnished a span of mules.  So that made one four horse team.
Baxter drove the other team.  We had three horses, but drove two most of the
time.  Uncle Holbrook made a sale.  We sent our surplus stock and plunder
there.  It was sold, and as I remember, they didn't get much out of the
sale.  Everyone knew we could not take everything with us, so why pay much
for it.  Mother had moved her bureau and bookcase from Ohio.  She knew she
could not move it farther.  She gave them to Jacob, our married brother.
His daughter cherishes the bureau yet as he most precious heirloom of her
grandmother she was named for but never saw.  They had so many books.  It
was quite a struggle to pack in a box two feet square all your treasures and
cast aside others seemingly so dear.  As long as Mother lived she would wish
for books left in Iowa.  There was one keepsake, however, she would not part
with.  That was Grandfather Ashbaugh's copper kettle,  It held twenty
gallons, and he bought it about the year 1834, when their orchard came in to
bearing.  Mother boiled apple butter by the barrel in this kettle.  (It is
in my cellar now.)  The winter of 1867-68 was a busy time for everyone.
They kept the teams up and rolled the corn to them.  The man who bought our
farm moved in the last of March to get settled in time to begin work when
the weather would permit.  There were nine in their family and six in ours.
It is safe to say we were somewhat crowded.  It was a late spring.  I don't
think they had plowed any or very little when we left.

     We started at four o'clock May first, 1868 for the great West.  I don't
think any one of the party had any regrets for leaving Iowa, or indulged in
a moment's longing for it ever after.  We were on our way to the great
unknown.  We expected it to be wild, lots of Indians, but that had no
terrors for Mother.  She declared she would go until she found a place where
she could raise fruit.  Several men had visited us that last winter who had
been out to Washington and Oregon.  They were loud in praise of the
Willamette Valley; it's possibilities as a great fruit country.  We left
Iowa with Albany as our destination, but Uncle Holbrook thought if he could
get to Wally Wallee, it would be near enough to Paradise for him.  One man
came to see us who had been a soldier stationed on the plains.  After
telling Indian stories for two hours, he reached over and took hold of a
bunch of my hair and said, "Well, Sis, when the Indians scalp you, they will
get a pretty head of hair."  I gave a scream and nearly fainted.  He told
one yarn I never forgot.  When they were in a sod fort, the ground was
covered with a light fall of snow.  They had butchered a beef and hung the
haunch up on a post so the coyotes would come within shooting distance.  A
Dutchman had to stand guard that night.  He saw the haunch, and looking out
over the snow enough bushes showed that it looked like Indians creeping up
to surprise the fort.  He began shooting and calling for more amonish, more
amonish.  The haunch was riddled, but no Indians killed.