We Were There at the Oklahoma Land Run
Copyright© 2024 by Jim Kjelgaard
Chapter 9: The Claims
The sun was still high when Cindy, her father, and Pete Brent reached the claims Pete had in mind. True to the promise of early morning, the day had become hot. Walking their horses, they stopped on a grassy knoll.
“There they are!” Pete said proudly, “and we’re first!”
Cindy gasped with pleasure, for the land to which Pete had led them was surely the most beautiful in the world. It was level, surrounded by knolls and hillocks much like the one upon which they stood, and grass that would be shoulder-high to a horse was already almost knee-high. A wide stream curled through it, and there was a fine grove of oak trees in new leaf.
“It looks great!” Mr. Simpson exclaimed.
Her father’s voice had a spirit and glow that Cindy had never noticed before, but she knew why it was there. A true farmer, Jed Simpson knew fine land when he saw it.
“It’s the greatest!” Pete said. “And the market will be ready when our crops are.” He pointed. “Two miles over there, half a section, or three hundred and twenty acres, have been reserved for a town site. They’re going to call it Plains City. Two miles over there,” he pointed in a different direction, “is the railroad. The oak grove will be half on your claim and half on mine.”
“Well,” Mr. Simpson grinned, “let’s go down and stake.”
They rode down the knoll, and the men took their coats off. Cindy removed her jacket, for she was perspiring, and dropped it in the grass.
“Don’t forget where it is,” her father warned.
“I won’t, Dad,” Cindy promised.
They rode until Pete halted them.
“Stick your flag in right here, Jed,” he told Cindy’s father.
“Here?” Mr. Simpson questioned.
“This is it.”
Mr. Simpson dismounted, and holding the tired Sunshine’s reins, he took the flag from his saddle and rammed the pointed end of the stick into the ground.
“I christen thee Simpsonia,” he said solemnly.
“Good enough.” Pete couldn’t lose his grin. “Now I’ll stake.”
In spite of the long run, Pete’s pony still had enough spirit to canter. Pete rode him through the oak grove and thrust his flag into the center of the claim he wanted. Cindy dismounted and petted Sparkle. She had thought that claiming the homesteads would be the most exciting part of all, but she was just as happy that it wasn’t. There’d been enough excitement for one day.
Still grinning broadly, Pete came riding back.
“It’s our land now,” he said. “Let’s care for the horses, and I’ll show you where the corners are.”
They rode to the oak grove, stripped their mounts, rubbed them down, and Pete and Jed staked their horses on picket ropes. Cindy had no rope, but Sparkle showed no wish to leave his friends, and all three horses started happily to crop the rich grass.
“Now I’ll show you—” Pete began.
“Hey!” Cindy shouted.
They had left the sacks of food with their other gear. Cindy looked around just in time to see a little black bear with a sack of food in his mouth running through the oak grove and into the tall grass. Jed drew his revolver, but before he could shoot the little bear had disappeared. Jed sheathed his gun.
“Doggone! There goes half our grub!” he exclaimed.
“And with three of us to eat what’s left,” Pete mourned, “we’re likely to be on short rations. I’d better take care of the other sack.”
He returned to the grove, pulled down a supple oak branch, tied the remaining sack to it, and let the branch spring upward. Coming back, Pete shrugged. The lost food was a serious matter, but there was no use complaining.
“Our claims adjoin down by the creek,” Pete said, “and each of us has enough creek frontage so that we’ll never lack for water. Come on.”
He led them to the creek and showed them a neat cairn, or pile, of rocks that the government surveyors had placed there. Some of the rocks had tumbled down, but they were quickly replaced and the cairn built higher. Cindy looked at the creek.
The water had eaten into the opposite bank to form a pool about ten feet long, six feet wide and twenty inches deep. But the entrance was no more than about two feet wide by eight inches deep. Lurking in the center of the pool were at least fifteen big fish that had swum out of the creek to hunt minnows.
“Your next corner,” said Pete, “is down here.”
He led them to another pile of rocks, and they built that up. Then he took them to the rest of the boundary markers that defined these claims. They were so busy building up the cairns that Cindy was astonished to find themselves surrounded.
There had been no one else in sight when they arrived. Now, wherever Cindy looked, she saw picketed horses or mules and busy men. The white tops of two covered wagons glowed in the descending sun. At least two of those who had put their faith in wagons had made it this far.
Mr. Simpson, who had been carrying a big boulder to the last corner, added it to the cairn and straightened. He looked around.
Mr. Simpson added a big boulder to the cairn
“Seems as though we have neighbors, Pete,” he remarked.
“It was bound to be,” Pete said. “This is some of the best land in Oklahoma, and we Boomers have known of it for a long while. Bet most of the people around us are Boomers.”
“What do we do now?” Jed asked.
Pete, still grinning, yawned. “Let’s make camp.”
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