Charles Robert KYGER

                   Buried Blackwell, Oklahoma

THE LAST RUN

SETTLING A NEW COUNTRY
                                                          by
                                           Charles Robert Kyger

I was born September 26, 1868 in the valley of Virginia near the littletown of
McGaheysville in Rockingham County.  My grandfather, Peter Kyger, was oneof the first settlers in the valley.

After my father's death in 1888, I came west with my brother, ThomasKyger.  He was foreman of the G. M. Carpenter ranch, which was locatedtwenty miles south of Elgin, Kansas, in what was known as the IndianTerritory.  If ever there was a
homesick boy, I was one.  Everything was so different from the way I hadbeen reared.  I'd always heard tales of the Indians and the wild west, soat night when the coyotes howled the boys told me it was the Indians.  Myhair stood on end.  There were only two reasons I stayed.  One was, Ididn't know the way to town, and the other, I didn't have the money topay my way home.  Six months passed before I went back to Elgin, but bythat time, I was used to the west and stayed.

After I had worked on the ranch several years, Mr. Carpenter, brother Tomand I went over on the Arkansas River, seven miles northeast of wherePonca City is located, and started the Carpenter and Kyger ranch.  I wasforeman and remained there until the strip opened.

I had no intention of making the run until brother Tom came with two verygood horses and insisted we try our luck.  I'd let all my men go to makethe race so hired a boy to take care of the ranch during my absence.

A neighbor, Ollie Harris, Tom and I fixed a mess wagon, hired a negrocook and went through the Kaw county to the Kansas line.  We were notallowed over in the strip so spent the night camped in Arkansas City.

The next day we rented camping ground in Arkansas City where the Keefepacking plant is located.  We had met other friends so there were nine ofus in camp together.  At night we had to stand guard over our horses tokeep them from being stolen.

Every day we rode to the state line where the registration booth waslocated.  Our attempts to register were useless for ahead of us thousandsof people were also waiting to register.  They were so black and dirtywith dust, one could hardly have recognized his best friend.

Two days before the strip opened, two booths were opened in Arkansas Cityand we registered there.

On the morning of September 16, 1893, our little company of nine men,Ollie Harris, Bill Herrington, George Jersy, Walter Harris, BillieMartin, William Howard, Billie Counsil, brother Tom and I, joined thethousands on the state line and eagerly awaited the signal to go.

To the east of us and to the west of us, as far as the eye could see,people were packed.  The majority were on horseback but may were in twowheeled carts, buggies and covered wagons.  Many of these wagons werefamilies who were to follow husbands on horseback.

We were waiting at the Hollenbeck windmill when the long awaited signalcame. The great mass of humanity surged forward.  Those who wanted tostake the first claims, rode as fast as they could go.  Those who wishedto go farther, did not go as fast.

It was hard at first to keep from getting run into.  The nine of us hasagreed that should any thing happen to any of us, the others were not tostop, but go on and stake our claim.  Later we were to return and findthem.

The prairie had just burned off.  A strong wind was blowing from thesouth and it was hot and dusty.  After we had ridden about ten miles ourhorses were becoming hot and tired so we stopped.  Each of us had a largesponge and a canteen of water.  We sponged our horses' mouths well andstarted again.

We seemed to be in the lead now for the ones ahead had staked theirclaims or had fallen behind.  Santa Fe trains were coming in loaded withpeople who were to stake claims or town sites.  It had been agreed theyshould run only as fast as horses.  We saw smoke from the first traineast of us and the dust from the people west of us and we rode thefaster.  Some of our horses began to drop behind, but brother Tom, BillyMartin and I were still together.

We had intended to go to the Salt Fork bottom but when we reached theChickaskia bottom, Tom said, "This is good enough for me."  He jumpedfrom his horse and staked what proved to be the northeast quarter section8-261E.  I rode farther west and staked the northwest quarter section8-261W.  Billy Martin rode a little farther west and staked.  He had notgone far enough for when we located the corner stones, he was on myquarter.

By this time, people were coming by so thick and fast and the dust was sodense that we could not see our cook and wagon.  He drove right on by us.

We rode over to the river, watered and washed our horses, and cleanedourselves as best we could.  We had nothing to eat and no feed for thehorses.  There was a little patch of grass on Tom's place that had notbeen burned, so we staked our horses there.  That night we used oursaddle blankets for beds, our saddles and boots for pillows ans sleptunder an elm tree close to our horses.

The next morning we rode over to the river to water our horses and met aJew by the name of Garlip.  He was an acquaintance from Independence,Kansas.  He shared his coffee and crackers with us for we had had nosupper or breakfast.

I set out to find our cook and wagon.  Tom and Billie Martin rode northto locate the rest of our company.  They found all except William Howardwithin two miles of us.  Howard was sick and J. F. Bainum was caring forhim in his wagon.  Bainum had staked the claim north of mine and Howardthe one north of Tom's.

Two of our company had staked school land, so lost out.  The remainderall had claims, with plenty of contestants.

I found our cook and wagon at Rock Creek crossing and returned with themto the claims.

The first winter not many people stayed on their claims, but we did.  Ourfirst improvements were two little shacks, one on each place.  They wereabout ten feet by twelve feet with mother earth for a floor.  Ourfurniture consisted of a bed, a little cook stove, home made table withboxes for chairs.  We had tin cups and plates.

The flap-jacks, biscuits and eggs shurley tasted good.  Those were happydays.

The next summer we started to break sod and put up hay.  At that time Imade the acquaintance of Ola Goodson who stayed with me  the secondwinter.  We had good times and our friendship grew as the years passed by.

We all joined together and, with what little money we had, bought nativelumber to build our first school house.  Today a two room school standsin it's place but it still bears the name, Chickaskia Valley School,District 59.

We held our first Sunday school under an elm tree on what was then theEndicott place until our school house was built.  Then we had both Sundayschool and church in it.

In January, 1897, I married Lillian McGee at Sedan, Kansas.  Both of ourchildren, a  boy, Guy Verne, and a daughter, Myrtle M., were born on theclaim.  Both died in infancy.

On April 12, 1902, my brother sold his farm to J. F. Bainum and son,Jesse, for $8,500.  My wife and I then built an eight room house on ourquarter where we still live.

In 1901 we helped build the M.E. Church at Excelsior.  We were bothmembers.  Th church had a large membership and good attendance; but asthe automobiles came along the people began to attend services in town,and the church was moved away.  We took our membership to Blackwell, andgot there in time to help rebuild the Methodist church.  We also boughtstock and helped build Blackwell's first hospital, which is now owned andoperated by Dr. A. S. Risser.

By starting from the sod in 1893 we now, in 1939, still own our samehome.  We have natural gas, electricity, telephone and rural mailservice, and an oil road runs by our door.  So we are happy and contentedand not sorry we endured the hardships of settling a new country.