To Beloit, Kansas; Lucy and the Fire

After I was out there, they liked my work, but my sister was with relatives in Kansas and wanted me to come and work there.

I told the folks about the letter and that I wanted to go.

I worked through the harvest, but didn't have enough money to do that, so I got another job. When that was over, in the fall, until I had the money to go.

When I got there, I realized I hadn't got much of an education, so I thought I ought to go back home to Colorado and go to school.

I said something to one of the men who was working at the same place I was and they told the man I was working for about my desire to go back to Colorado.

The man called me in on a Sunday morning to the front room.

He told me he understood that I wanted to finish common school (elementary or grade school), since I had only gone as far as the fifth grade.

He said "You don't have to leave to do that. You can go to school from right here. Just help with the chores, night and morning, and help around on Saturdays, whatever needs to be done. So I did.

I went to school and finished 6th, 7th, and 8th grades.


After I was there quite a while, the Mrs. said to me "Have you got any relatives?" Olsen was their name. They were Swedes. They had two girls and were very close. But she said "I never see you get any mail. Or send any."

I told her that when I left home I told dad I was leaving and asked him if he would write and he said "No, I don't know if I'll have time."

The Mrs. said "You sit down and write your father a letter."

I said "He won't answer it."

But she insisted, so I wrote him. He answered it, like she said he would.

I worked along time there and liked it. In the mean time my sister Lucy, who had got me to come to Kansas, was working about 18 miles from there. There were three children and no mother nearby, so she took the role of mother.

One morning, as she was finishing breakfast, one of the boys went to start the fire. They used corncobs soaked with coal oil to start the fire. By using coal oil on cobs to get the fire started, he'd soiked three corn cobs up in a tin can, and when he'd get the fire started he'd take the can to the pantry and put three more corncobs in it so it'd be ready for the next time.

One of the boys would do it in the morning, before he'd head out to do the feeding of the horses and cows. He'd get that done before feeding and by the time he'd finish feeding breakfast woudl be ready.

That morning he left the can on the warming oven on the stove. Lucy had taken the lid off and put a frying pan on the open fire.

After she finished cooking breakfast, she took the pan off the fire, reached for the stove hook to replace the lid over the fire, and knocked the can of oil over, spilling it on the stove, into the fire, onto the floor, and on her clothes. It all lit up.

She was burnt, and bad!

When the skin started to heal, they had to graft skin on. They couldn't do skin grafting near there, so they had to send her to Kansas City, to Memorial Hospital (KU Medical Center). They phoned me and said she'd have to be taken to Kansas City and a relative would have to go with her. She went on the train.

They said they'd bring her to Beloit, which was quite a ways from where she lived, to catch the Union Pacific railroad at the depot there. I was to meet her there. I spend a number of days with her at the hospital.

In the mean time, I got to talking to a man and a woman downstairs from Lucy.

They said they had a daughter, Ruth, there for eye surgery that was in the same ward. They were from Mead, Kansas. We got to be friends. When we got ready to leave, to go back to work, I was saying goodbye to them. The girl said she wanted me to write to her when I got back. So I did.

Finally Lucy and the girl were released.

Return to Colorado - Riding a Steer and a Bucking Bronco

"This may be the only time you'll get to be home with everyone."

I said I don't want to go home until I've paid for the lap robe.

He said "I'll pay for the lap robe." He was a wonderful big brother.

When we got to Kit carson we walked the twelve miles to home. The others were all there. Father was outside the sod house. He put his hand out to shake hands with Amasa and then with me. All was all right.

While all the children were there Lydia and I got in the buggy to see what the land looked like. On the way over she told me of some pranks her husband had pulled. When she told me them I felt free to divulge the story of how the cow lost her switch.

I worked at home that summer.

The next fall dad had gone to Soretta and met Charlie Collins. Charlie told dad that he wanted a chore and feed boy. Dad got me the job. I worked for Charlie that winter.

There was a man lived south of him. I was friends with his son. We were feeding cattle on the lone prairie. We were feeding them cottonseed cake.

When the feed wagon was loaded we'd yell "haay-oh" and the cattle would come from all directions to get some food. They'd get crowded around three or four deep, packed in close. We'd have to wait a while for them to get together, not just feed some and let others get hungry.

After talking awhile he said "You can ride one of them steer."

I said, "Oh, I'd be afraid to."

"Well, you don't need to be afraid. You can slide down on him. You see they're right up close. You can get on him and get your hands on each side of his flanks. He can't get out until you're on him, with the other steer so close." He talked me into it.

I got on him. He worked so hard to get away from the wagon that by the time he was free to buck or run he was too tired. I ran him until I got tired.

That's the only time I rode a steer like that.

I rode a bucking bronco that Father had. He bucked me off and knocked me senseless. I didn't know anything for a while then.

This man moved to Hilltop, Colorado, southeast of Denver. Not far from the foothills of the mountains.

Life in Ellis

Eli and his father were working on a farm in Haywood, Kansas. Haywood was three miles north of Ellis. The owner let me eat, sleep, and help until I found somewhere else to work. Eli's father was a good, large, strong man. I was just a small, little "spillin'" thing at age 17 and couldn't handle feed like he could.

Eli's father knew a man named Charlie Mills that was living south of Ellis on a farm. He was road supervisor for the county. Eli's father made arrangements for me to meet him in Ellis to work for him.

On the way out he said "I used to railroad and got so tired of it that I thought I'd like to get something else. But while I'm doing this and I don't have to do anything else, I'll just keep railroading." He also said "I also decided to work in such a way that you leave in such a way you could always come back. No matter what happens. For example, if a horse gets crippled up, a horse trying to get across a fence and then  try to back up and cuts his foot up, be sure to tell me." He was a church man who taught me a lot of good things.

Charlie Mills told me "I'll give you 75 cents a day for working on the road and room and board. While we're not on the road I'll give you spending money." It worked out real nice.


Seven years after the first time I was living in Ellis I came back. I got off the train, called 303 and said "Mrs. Norquist, this is Dave Hochstetler. I'd like a job." She gave it to me.


I went to stay at one man's house for the winter. He gave me $5 a month for spending money. I was supposed to be helping with the chores, but there wasn't much chores to do.

My English wasn't too good, because I hadn't been enough with English speaking people to speak well.

One morning after breakfast I went down the slight hill to the barn and was checking to see if there was anything that needed to be done. There were four or five calves shut up in a pen inside the barn. I watered them and the man came down, saw the calves and said "here's these calves you haven't watered yet."

I said "I know better" in somewhat of a harsh way.

A few minutes later he called me on it. He explained how it sounded, and helped me with expression.

Another time, after supper, they had company - his brother and cousins. Three men and I played a game of cards, a "pitch" game. We were playing and when I counted the cards we argued over who played the two-spot. I quit and then his brother Judd and he argued over it. Finally he said "I guess Dave did play it." But I didn't want that kid to talk like that to me.

Some time after, Judd and I were putting up ice that had frozen six or eight inches thick on the pond.


My father had an ice house made of wood in Colorado. We'd pack the ice in sawdust if it was available.


In the spring I got a letter from Grandpa saying that he heard I left home. He said I ought to go home to Father, because there might be more than one side to this. He indicated that my father might be a little wrong, too.

Later I got company from eastern Kansas. I got a letter from Haven. [Haven, KS is between Hutchinson and Wichita.] Amasa was on his way to Colorado.


I tried to go to Ellis to the picture show twice a week. One night after the picture show after hitching the horses up I noticed the nice, expensive lap road that went with the horse and buggy were gone. [Crime even took place in Ellis.]

Amasa stopped to try to talk me into going back home. He called from Ellis and wanted to see me. He tried to persuade me but I said "No. Father told me never to come home. Besides, I don't have any spending money saved. I've always wanted a watch and I don't have a watch."

Amasa said "I'll get you a watch. I'll get you some spending money. I want you to go home." He said "Sister Lydia and her husband are the first ones to get married and the first ones to have a child. They'll be there. If you don't go it just won't be right." He just talked and talked and talked and persuaded me to go home with him. "This may be the only time you'll get to be home with everyone."

I said "I don't want to go home until I've paid for the lap robe."

Amasa was a wonderful big brother. I finally agreed to go.

Dating

When we moved to Colorado I was 15 and not quite old enough to start going with the girls. I thought I'd like to, but I didn't for quite some time.

Finally, after I got a little older, I did date one girl one time. I didn't ask for another date.

Years later I dated another Amish girl one evening. When we "dated" we'd stay in the house, talk, and visit with each other. I'd crawl in bed with her upstairs, right where her family was in bed. They allowed that. It was customary. All clothes were on.

Leaving Home

David did not enjoy Colorado as he had Indiana. It was not an easy place to farm; he didn't mind the hard work but there were many aggravations. David remembered his young life in Indiana where life never seemed so hard as it was in Colorado.

By the time he was a teenager David could do the work of a man. He thought of his older brothers making money for working. He didn't know what his father planned to do but there was no mention of moving to a more promising land and it seemed that prospects were getting darker in Colorado. He knew his father would strongly object to his leaving but as he thought about it he grew more convinced it was the thing to do.


In David's words:



I'd been thinking and wishing that I could leave Colorado, and get away from home. This was on my mind, day after day, week after week, month after month until finally I made up I was going to leave and I left.

I needed to get away from the environment.

It was the fall of the year, and I was in the field with a team of horses bringing in feed. Some Russian Thistles had gotten in the feed, and you had to cut the feed like cane.

I didn't have a decent pair of shoes and I did a very dirty deal. Dad had a team and wagon also.

I had already in mind to leave and just got worked up enough over the stickers and thistle in the feed and around my feet, and it just gave me enough nerve to decide that this is "Then I'm going to leave."

I left the team and wagon stand and I went over to where dad was loading up his team and I said "I'm leaving."

Very little else was said but I do remember dad said "Well, you don't need to expect to ever come back." I was 16 or 17 at the time. Father was very serious, seldom humorous.

Eli had moved to Kansas where he got acquainted a girl who he would marry; she was my first wife's sister. I had already told Eli in a letter and he said he'd send me some money to come on, and he did. I had already secured a little satchel, not even a briefcase, more like a doctor's medicine bag than a suitcase. I hid that in the barn with the great hayloft in it, about a mile and a quarter from where we lived.

Our closest neighbor lived about a mile from us. Their name was Duddy. They had a couple of daughters, and the family were good friends of mine. I stayed there overnight my first night away from home.

The next morning I started out for the railroad. I got almost to Sorrento, a city with a train depot and a general store/post office, when a man on horseback came from the opposite direction. He asked me if I was looking for work. He didn't even ask my name.

I said "Yes, I'd like to have some work."

He said "I've got some work I could let you do. How much do you want?"

"Well," I said, "Whatever's right."

"Well, I had a boy work for me this summer, by the name of Carl Duddy, who worked for me for 75 cents a day."

"Well, that'd be alright." I wasn't even used to having spending money then.

He said "I'll tell you what. I'm on the way to a sale. You go down to the first house just north of the post office and the depot. You find a team tied to a manger there in the barn. You'll see the harness there. You harness them up. But before you do that, you go tell my wife that I sent you and that you're to harness the team up and rake up the feed that's ready to be raked up. And when dinner time comes she'll have dinner ready for you. You go in there and have dinner."

There was nothing more said about wages.

I did what he said and she had dinner for me. I worked there for almost three weeks and when he paid me $7.00 I realized that he never said he'd pay me 75 cents a day.