Seasons of Remembrance

The morning of November 22, 1887 began fair and warm.  James had left to hunt prairie chickens and Belle was bathing Edna and thinking about preparing food for lunch.  Without warning the temperature dropped 60 degrees in two hours.  Ominous clouds filled the sky and the snow began.  (A few years later this winter would be referred to as the winter of “Blue Snow”.)  The snow fell at an increasing rate.  The wind was blowing so strong that James had to lean forward to walk into it.  James thought, “I had better go back to the dugout.”  Halfway back he could barely see where he was going.  The snow was not falling; it was going sideways and getting deeper.

Fortunately before the snow became deep, Belle brought into the dugout a supply of wood and corncobs for the stove.  As snow and wind increased in intensity, she became concerned, and then she grew frightened.  “Where is James? Is he lost?  I can’t see anything but white through the window.”  It was impossible to see two inches away from the window because of the heavy and fast snowfall.  She thought to herself, “I must remain calm.”

James was certain he was going in the right direction but he was not sure how close he was to the dugout.  He asked himself, “How far had I gone before the snow started?  It seems like I have walked five miles at least, but I can’t possibly have gone that far.”  He became concerned and he was cold; he had not put on a heavy coat when he left.  He told himself, “Stay calm.  It can’t be much farther.”  Finally he either hit or fell into the rope section of the corral.  The shotgun fell someplace in the snow.  That was not important now.  “This has got to be the corral rope!  I have got to be close.  I’ll move left if I am where I think I am then the dugout should be back about 150 yards.”  Holding onto the rope with numb hands, he worked his way left and then turned toward what he hoped would take him to the dugout door.

He counted his steps; when he reached 100, he yelled “Belle”.  There was no answer, just the sound of the howling wind.  The snow was over his knees.  Exhaustion was overtaking James.  He thought, “Am I going to die this close to the dugout door?”  He went another 50 steps and fell over something.  It was a chair Belle had left in front of the dugout.  Getting up he looked around; he had to be right in front of the dugout and within 10 feet of it.  But he could not see it because of the snow.  He yelled again, “Belle”, but no answer.

He left the chair directly behind him, and then walked forward, with his hands held out.  He walked into the front of the dugout.  “Thank you, Lord!” was the only thought in James’ mind.  He felt his way to the door and pulled with what strength he had left.  The snow in front of the door made it difficult to open.  When Belle realized what was going on, she pushed on the door from the inside.