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Updated: June 18, 2025
Five miles or so up the stream lay the ox-bow at which his old friend Jonas Harding settled when he came into the Disputed Grounds, and where the widow and her brood now lived. After examining the camp he quickened his step toward the Harding place. A mile further on, however, he heard the stroke of paddles and the sound of men's voices.
Some planks were sawed at the mill and sledded to the ox-bow on the ice, too, and when the plaintive call of the muckawis the Indian name for the "whip-poor-will," ushered in the spring, a noble company of Green Mountain Boys gathered to build the widow's house again.
This latter was called the "Ox-bow Route" and was finally selected by the Company, notwithstanding violent opposition on the part of the people of Omaha, who feared that the Company would cross the Missouri at Bellevue, thus leaving Omaha out. September 25th, 1865, saw eleven miles finished, and in November an excursion was run from Omaha to the end of the track, fifteen miles.
A garrison was placed in each fortress and then the Green Mountain Boys dispersed to their homes having accomplished the object for which they had been gathered by their leader. Enoch and the old ranger returned to the ox-bow farm where their welcome can be better imagined than narrated.
He satisfactorily whipped four dogs, pursued two cats up a tree, upset the Dutch oven and the rest of the soda biscuits, stampeded the horses, and raised a cloud of dust adequate to represent the smoke of battle. We others were too paralysed to move. Uncle Jim sat placidly on his white horse, his thin knees bent to the ox-bow stirrups, smoking.
Pursuit here meant leaving cattle unguarded there. It was useless, and the Senor soon perceived that sooner or later he must strike in offence. For this purpose he began slowly to strengthen the forces of his riders. Men were coming in from Texas. They were good men, addicted to the grass-rope, the double cinch, and the ox-bow stirrup. Senor Johnson wanted men who could shoot, and he got them.
The round-up had reached a place called the ox-bow of the Little Missouri, and we had to ride there, do some work around the cattle, and ride back. Another time I was twenty-four hours on horseback in company with Merrifield without changing horses. On this occasion we did not travel fast. We had been coming back with the wagon from a hunting trip in the Big Horn Mountains.
By the time the snow lay deep upon the earth the Hardings were once more comfortable. The boys did very little trapping and hunting that winter of '72-'73 for they could not attend to traps set very far from the ox-bow, and the Walloomscoik country was becoming scarce of game.
After supper I lit a big pine knot and placed it in the side of the fireplace, so that the smoke from it would go up the chimney. It threw a pleasant light out into the room. Father was at work on an ox-bow.
Betty smiled, for though he appeared to be in a position which might result in a crushed leg or foot, she knew that he was in no danger, because the heavy ox-bow stirrup afforded protection for his foot, while the wide seat of the saddle kept the upper part of his leg from injury.
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