Dakota Diary - 20 - The Badlands

Sunday June 24th

We didn’t stop to chat with the nuns or priest on Sunday after Mass, but just waved to them and said we were in a hurry, so would see them next week.

We got on the train  at 10, but we knew that we would have to disembark and go across the river
on the ferry, while they took the train carriages across one at a time on floats. I’m sure everyone will be very pleased once the bridge is open.

This was our first ride on the Northern Pacific - the railway that Pa had worked for - and also the
one we will be taking when we go to Minneapolis in a few weeks' time.

Our conductor had whiskers which made him look rather like Prince Albert on the popular smoking-tobacco tins. On his head he was wearing a trainman’s cap - a straight-sided pillbox affair with a bill. He had a turned-down stiff collar and a bow tie with the ends tucked under.

We paid more attention than before when we had to get off and watch the train float across the
Missouri, seeing the open tender, in back of the engine which was loaded with wood. Then there was a mail and baggage car. There were three passenger coaches - which I would estimate to be about 40-50 feet long with open platforms on the ends and only a light iron rail to protect us from falling into the swaying clanking void between the cars.

When they reassembled the train, we saw that coaches were connected by a link and pin coupling and the switchman had to go between the cars to do his work. The seats were wooden, upholstered in red plush. There was a pot-bellied stove, which wasn’t needed this time of the year - but no doubt would be running full out from October onwards. And there were coal-oil lamps, but again, these were not needed on this very bright and cheery morning. 

We were very interested in the scenery as we passed along, as Pa had described it all in his reports
when they were marching out to the Little Bighorn. We kept waiting for the change of scenery that knew was coming up. Out of this vast prairie we expected to see something that would astound us. And it did. Seemingly out of nowhere, the land suddenly became what General Sculley had called 'Hell with the Fires Out' and 'Grand, Dismal and Majestic'. The colors were what hit us first of all. The strata of the almost bare hillsides looked like they had been painted in reds  and oranges. We knew this was the clay, scoria, baked millions of years before by some earth process. We remembered our Pa’s words on first seeing this sight, some six years ago, “surrounded by every conceivable shaped butte - a scene so unbelievably beautiful as to impress the beholder through life.” I think you could say he was quite impressed, and so were we.

We arrived in Little Missouri (called Little Misery by the locals apparently) and were met off the
train by the owner of the hotel himself, Frank Moore.

“I didn’t know if you girls would be coming on this train or not,” he started. “The Marquis sent you a telegram telling you not to come, but he was worried that you might not have got it.”

“We didn’t,” I said, “but we left the hotel very early this morning and didn’t check at the desk to see if there were any messages.”

“Well, it seems as if the Marquis has got himself into a spot of bother, and he isn’t here at the moment. He's in Mandan, arranging for the arrest of a man who has threatened to kill him. He should be back tomorrow night, but things are kind of jumpy around here. Maybe you girls should stay the night, but go back on the train tomorrow.”

“Oh, we want at least to meet the Marquis. He was very welcoming a week go. What has gone so
wrong?”

“Well, I’ll tell you all about it when we get to the hotel, but right now let me point out some of our important sites.”

As he drove us to his hotel, the Frank Moore’s Pyramid Park Hotel, he pointed out the river -
“That's the Little Missouri,” he said, “and that building on the east bank is going to be the Marquis’ meat packing plant. It's nearly finished. He hopes to have it working by September.

“People here think he's a little mad - in fact they call him the crazy Frenchman. Some are
sceptical that he should be able to do what he says he will, and others are outright hostile - thinking that he is taking away their livelihoods - rather than the truth of the matter - that he is going to bring riches to this little town - that we will share in.”

“How long has this place been settled?” 

“Indians and fur traders have been here for generations. But this little town started as an army post called the Badlands Cantonment for the 6th Infantry in November,  79. I was the Sutler for the trading post. The army left earlier this year, and Mr. Gorringe, a retired naval officer, took over the army buildings and converted them into a tourist resort. And I built this hotel.”

It was a very basic looking hotel, and if there had been any alternative, we would certainly have
gone for it, but I realized that it was this or nothing. But we could hardly tell Mr. Moore that.

We were shown to our room, and then as we came for supper in the dining room, Frank Moore came to join us.

“The Marquis said that this bill was on him, so you might as well choose the best we’ve got. I
recommend the buffalo steak. And may I get you girls a glass of the best sarsaparilla in the West?”

So we both ordered it and soon were tasting this cooling drink. And while we were waiting, he went
on with his story about the town and the Marquis’ part in it.

“It was the fact that the Northern Pacific Railway reached the Little Missouri River in September,  80, and that made this a region for big game hunting. And this hotel was completed that year and serves
as an outfitting point for hunting parties. See that clipping over there? The Bismarck Daily Tribune in
February,  80, claimed that two hunters in six weeks' time, killed 90 deer and antelope and 15 elk.  E. G. Paddock and Howard Eaton, who are professional guides for hunting groups, ran a
continuous advertisement in the Mandan Pioneer.

“The Northern Pacific cooperated in publicizing the region through its tourist brochures. In them, the railroad endeavored to change the name of the region  from the Badlands to Pyramid Park.”

“Why was it called Badlands in the first place?”

“The Lakota Indians called it Makhosica, literally bad land, and the French trappers called 'les
mauvaises terres à traverser' – 'the bad lands to cross'. The term is appropriate. It contain steep
slopes, loose dry soil, slick clay, and deep sand, all of which impede travel and other uses.”

“And you’re continuing to grow?”

“Yeah, you can be sure of that. There are some Texas cattlemen buying in now. The OX ranch, the
Three Sevens and the Hashknife are all going to them, I heard, not
that you ladies would know where those are.”

“And what is the Marquis planning, besides the meat packing plant and his house?”

“Apparently he promised his wife he'd build a Catholic Church, which she has stipulated should be called St. Mary’s, and then a house for his in-laws - they want one built of brick, if you can believe it. Nobody around here builds out of brick.”

“Is anybody else but him doing building?”

“Sure shooting there is. We aim to have 80 buildings here by 84 compared to the four that were
here last year. There will be more hotels, which I suppose I can put up with, as I can’t possible house everybody here, a couple of general stores, grocery stores, dry goods stores, a photograph
gallery, a blacksmith shop, a freight outfitting house, a laundry, a barber shop and most important of all, at least five saloons. And I even heard that there is going to be a newspaper office here.”

“Oh, we are supposed to contact a man who is here for that purpose. He apparently owns a coal
mine that our Pa had a stake in. His name is Mr. Packard. Have you heard of him?”

“Yes, ma’am, I sure have. And he might even be in here drinking later on tonight. If he is I’ll tell him you ladies are looking out for him.”

“Are there still lots of buffalo around here?” asked Cora Sue.

“It’s estimated that there were about 10,000 at the start of the year. Way down from what there
were ten years ago. But we have big plans for a shoot this fall. I even heard that Teddy Roosevelt himself is coming down, and when that makes the headlines, lots of others will come too. And with that number of beasts, you can’t really miss. There are a lot of white hide hunters around now that the Indians don’t come around much. Although come to think of it, I heard that McLaughin from the
Standing Rock agency has said his Indians, including Sitting Bull, can come here this year for the hunt - so probably they will take out a few thousand or so. They know what they're doing - having done it as practically their only food source all their lives.”

“What time will the Marquis be back tomorrow?”

“Well not until afternoon anyway, so you girls might like to get around and see his place. He’s got a private secretary there, William Van Driesche, who arrived with him. He can show you the plans. It will have 26 rooms and quite a lot of it is finished already. The Marquis has been living there all along.”

“ We’d like that.”

“Do you ride?”

“Yes, sort of.”

“Well, I’m sure I can set you up with horses for the day, and then you can come and go when you
feel like it. And I can give you directions about how to get there.”

“Thank you. Good night for now,” and we went to bed.

The next morning over breakfast, Frank filled us in on more about the Marquis’ activities in the three short months he'd been in town.

“He acted quickly to buy land, organize a business, and build the slaughterhouse. He made arrangements for the purchase of land using Valentine Scrip, which is a document issued by the federal government authorizing the holder to acquire a specified acreage of unoccupied public land, the location of which he could chose. In effect, scrip is a deed to a specific amount of land, and so it has been bought and sold much as if it were land.

“He bought  this scrip from his father-in-law for  $15,000 and then he filed claim to 220 acres of
land, which gave him access to the river, the road, the land south and east of
the Little Missouri settlement.

“In addition to this land the Marquis acquired almost 9,000 acres from the Railroad for $23,000. This railroad land provided him a private range. So that he would have a ready supply of cattle, he purchased somewhere between 10,000 and 13,000 head at a cost of $36,000. So you can see,
he thinks big.

“But lots of the locals aren’t happy about this and there are rumblings about the Marquis'
expropriating the Badlands as if he had paid nothing. This is nonsense, but the criticism shows how deeply he is resented by those who don't have his means.”

“I heard that he was fencing off his land. Maybe people with cattle like them to able to have a
free range.”

“You’re right. This new idea of fencing a lot of people think is the height of impudence. And it will get even worse when they realize that his fences are going to close some of the favorite trails used by the hunters. He’s had threats to drive him out of the Badlands, not just once but frequently. In fact some hunters were in badmouthing him last Friday, and when he heard about it on Saturday, he high tailed it off to Mandan to get them arrested before they do any damage.”

After breakfast, Frank fixed us up with two horses, as he had said he would, and told us how to get
to the ranch. The horses were ones he had chosen specially to be easy to ride, and after the first few scary moments, we felt quite at ease in the saddles.

It was about 10 when we found the ranch, and it was a hive of activity. There must have been 20 men
working on one part of it or another, and after we had dismounted and found somebody to stable and water our horses, we went to look for the Marquis’ secretary, William Van Driesche.

He had been told about the possibility of our coming, and decided the best thing was for him to
take us on a guided tour of the place, filling us in with details of how it will look when it is all done.
We went up the elaborate curved staircase and saw the magnificent views over the countryside from each room in the house. We spent about an hour touring, and then he made us a cup of very strong
coffee, and we made our way back to town. We decided to have a nap, and then go and meet the 5 o’clock train, to see if the Marquis was on it.