The following is written in 1923 by Henry Merrick’s mother, Ora Merrick and published in “The Groom Booster,” 1923. The Editor noted that parts of the chronicle were omitted, but it remains, 43 years after it was compiled as one of the most graphic pictures and first –hand accounts of the 1889 period.
Our family lived in Johnson county (Cleburne, Texas today). 1889 my mother’s health became so bad our family physician advised us to move to a higher climate.... The great western Panhandle Plains had already made an impression on father. When the doctor told him that, he greased his wagon for a trip out West in search for a real home. He was accompanied by his father and brother, Uncle Charlie Boydstun, who once lived near Groom; however, he didn’t move out here until the country was pretty well settled up.
Father settled on the first section he struck after hitting the Plains, which was a mile from the caprock. His father was just wild about this country, as frontier life was a pleasure for him. He never located here, though, as he was getting old and his health was failing him. He always told his children what great opportunities lay open here for those who had the energy to grasp it, which they all did in a short time. He told father there would be a railroad going through here in a short time, and pointed out about the route it would take. He didn’t miss it a quarter of a mile.
They drove all over these Plains, enjoying the freedom of looking , as there was so much timber where they cam from that they could see no distance. They came back all in such high spirits about the new country. Father revealed to mother such a wonderful pictures of the new country that her strength returned in a hurry.
Getting ready for the trip, we loaded our wagon and started for our new home in the month of September. Mother was not able to sit up very long at a time, only weighed 118 pounds.
Her brother, Uncle Wallace James, and family hooked up their wagon and traveled a while with us to see how mother was going to stand the trip. There were seven children, and they had three of theirs along. You can imagine what a funny sight we were going through Ft. Worth. It was impossible for children to keep their heads back in a covered wagon going through a big city, with so much to see. But we certainly did enjoy the trip.
After we got out in the country, we children were no longer a burden to the horses. We just couldn’t stay in the wagon any longer and had to get out and walk, so that we could see.
We little thought of the hardships that were facing us in the land that new knothing of the plow, and plowing was father’s only occupation. I often wonder if he didn’t worry as to just how he would make it through with a sick wife and seven children, the oldest twelve. But I guess they thought where there was a will there was a way. They were not much to borrow trouble.
After we gon on past Ft. Worth a ways, they decided we were on the wrong road. There was a house on ahead, so we drove to it for information. In the shad of the little cabin sat a big old fat negro. We asked him if that was the road to the next station (I don’t remember the name of it) and he replied, “Yessah, jes keep right ahead.” So we wnet on about three miles. The road led us down into a creek and began to play out. About that time, two men came along on horseback andtold us we were off our road and would have to go back about three miles. The also told us that the old negro would tell a person anything. They sure felt like cleaning up on that old “coon” when they passed by there and found him still sitting in the shad, for retracing three miles with a loaded wagon is no funny job.
Well, our first night for camping out was down on a creek—an awfully scary looking place. Father and Uncle Will spied a little old hut up in the bushes and said it reminded them of a robbing outfit; so they were uneasy all night. I was only a child, but I could catch from their conversation that they were uneasy, and it scared me. The next morning, to help our uneasiness, one of our horses was gone, and we never found him until about noon. They we pulled on.
Uncle Willcie traveled with us several days and every thing went on nicely. So one morning as we puleed up from camp, they turned back and we went on. I will never forget how lonesome it did seem, but we made it on to Seymour (Baylor county) where mother’s sister (Aunt Ann Richerson) lives. We traveled several days and believe me, we were one proud bunch when we did get there; for traveling was no long play with us children and mother was getting wagon sick (just like train sick). She just could hardly bear to hear a wagon knock. When we drove up, mother started to get out, but Aunt Anna grabbed her and carried her to the house.
We were all beginning to have chills, as we had so much malaria in our systems. Chilling was ll the go where we came from.
Father lay over there about a week and gave his horses a rest and visited. He then took my oldest brother (Riley) and made it on to the land that flowed with milk and honey –in his imagination. It did for people who had health and money to come here with. But father had to pull up and come. Not having time to make any money to speak of, it made it so much hard on them; and I claim they were brave soldiers to tackle it. They arrived at a place that they still live on—the place that we all call “home”—about the first of November, in the evening. They pitched their tents, and the next morning bright and early “spudded” in a dugout. They made it 10x12 so that they would have protection from the Indians, for all we knew. They were located quite a ways from us and were civilized too. We could find quite a lot of places where they had had their wigwams. The poles were still there. We found a number of spikes they had used in their arrows, but they were nearly all broken. We also found lots of buffalo bones, heads with hide, hair and horns still on them, around these Indian camps.
Ed Johnson, now living in Groom was the first man father got acquainted with on the Plains. He was foreman on the ranch. Mr. Johnson came along while father was digging is dugout. He sat down and talked a long time and told us where his headquarters were and that if he eveer needed anything just to let him know.
We were up here about 3 weeks before mother came. Father was ready for her when she came, for he couldn’t get any letters from her at all. She would get a letter every few days begging her to write him, and she was just writing as fast as she could, but he couldn’t get the letters. Riley said father looked as if he had been to a funeral when he came out of the post office and had no letters.
Mother was till down at Aunt Anna’s crying her eyes out and scared to death. She imagined someone was making away with his mail and were going to make away with him and Riley, thinking maybe they had some money.
She thought maybe they would try to keep settlers out, as we had cattle men and cowboys in our minds as awful tough people. I never will forget the last letter she got from father, He was so torn up that he said in his letter, “My God, Mary, why don’t you write and let me know how you are?” We my mother just walked the floor and yard and cried day and night. When she got the letter, she couldn’t stand it any longer. Aunt Anna had smoothed things over and quieted her as long as she could.
Mother got Uncle Jim to take her to Wichita Falls to take the train.
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