My father, Daniel Westenhaver, came from Green County, Wis. to Nebraska with his family in 1872, having come out here the previous fall in 1871 in company with several home seekers from the same neighborhood. I think Jake Klumb, Bill Warren, and W. S. Dory were among the ones who came and located in Beaver precinct, all within a short distance of one another.

My father's claim was on Sec. 26--T. 10 N.R. 5, SW 1/2, SW 1/4. On the first trip out in 1871 they staked off their claims and broke out some prairie, on the line between the Dory and Jake Klumb claims. This house was 1/4 mile north of the S.E. corner of Sec. 34 and some hundred yards west. After doing what they could at that time they returned to Wisconsin and in the fall of 1872, moved their families to the land of promise.

In the wagon train composing this pilgrimage was my father and his family of eight, with two covered wagons, and some cattle; Fred Splinter Sr. and his wife and four children; William Warren, his wife and three children, and a young man named Johnson who joined the group in Iowa. The travel was slow, with the cattle, and took several weeks. My half-brother, Arthur Shaw, always claimed that he walked all the way to Nebraska. His job was to drive the cattle and run errands. Many amusing incidents occurred during the trip which cling to the memory of those concerned. Arthur had been sent to a farm house on an errand and there enchanted a savage dog that put him to flight. Fred Splinter, whose camp was some distance from the others, saw and heard the commotion, but didn't know the outcome. Finding Arthur's brother in talking distance, he asked him in broken English, "Did your brudder bite dat dog?" Fred was the brunt for many a good-natured joke during the trip, such as being fed citron for watermelon. Once while he was away his wife let the fire catch in the prairie grass and she was not able to cope with the situation. Until help arrived, she kept saying, "Devil take de fire." The last camp before coming to the claims was made on the trail south of Beaver Creek, at what was later York center. The night before the camp was close to Milford. Upon landing at the claim on October 25, 1872, they immediately started building a frame for the lumber; also hauling wood from the Waddle place on the Blue. It was a daily task for some of the men folks to go for a load of wood.

By the time spring came, they had a good supply of fuel. The winter was fine and they did all the plowing in February for the spring crops. Spring wheat was planted and came up immediately. The frame house was nearly done and they moved in in April. The nice spring weather made it comfortable, but they were not prepared for the fierce onslaught that the weatherman had in store for them a few days later.

The big Easter snow storm came on April 13, 1873, and from what the earliest settlers said was the worst snow storm or blizzard the country ever had. At the east line of Hamilton county where the high bank was, the snow drifted across the river, covering the water until the snow was level across from the high bank, and packed so hard that folks crossed back and forth on horse back and with team and wagon. Now I think that snow was 20 feet deep. After the storm was over Elijah Hileman took his shovel and a loaf of bread and went a half mile west of his place where a family lived in a dugout in the bank of a draw. Their name was Barger. It was all covered with snow. Mr. Hileman called to them and they answered. He dug or shoveled out the run-way to the door so they could get out. They were all right after three days and three nights of being in their dugout. Nearly two weeks after, they heard a rooster crow. They listened to hear where the sound came from and found a large snowdrift around the clothesline post. They shoveled into the snow and there was Mr. Rooster. His breath had melted the snow so he had plenty of room. A man told me that in a day or so after the weather moderated, the snow was melting fast and he was near the river when a great quantity--hundreds-of tons-of snow caved into the river. He said it surely made a big splash. One man had a few chickens in a small sod coop. The storm took the roof off and scattered chickens all over the prairie. Of course they were all dead.

The Warren and Splinter families moved into a sod house on Sec. 4 for awhile but Fred Splinter made a dugout on the Warren claim in a draw and was there until he built a sod house on his own land on Sec. 25 near where the present house now stands.

In those first years the nearest post office was Beaver Crossing and frequently they drove to Nebraska City for supplies--though soon Sutton was the trading point for the neighborhood.

On Saturday, April 12, the day before the storm, father made a trip to Sutton for supplies. The wind blew very hard from the south and blew harder all the time until about six Sunday evening when the storm broke in all its fury. The family was greatly frightened by the approaching storm. The clouds were the darkest they had ever seen for a few minutes before the wind changed from the south to the north. Then there was a death-like calm which added to the tenseness of the situation. When the storm broke there was hard wind with rain which soon had everything soaked. Father had gone to the sod barn which was only half roofed, to look after the stock. The storm was so fierce he was afraid to try to get to the house, and remained there all Sunday night until the morning. The rain turned to snow and by morning a blizzard, such as none of us had ever seen before, was in full force. At daylight two of the men went to the barn and forcibly brought father to the house where he could be fed and kept fairly warm. He was set to the skin and suffering from asthma which had him in pretty bad condition. The men had taken 2 x 4's and propped the house inside to keep it from collapsing. Theodore was there and two other men who were on their way west but were stopped by the prospects of a storm. They were all busy trying to keep the house braced and wood in the cookstove which was the only means of keeping warm. And the wood had to be dried in the oven before it would burn. The women folks had difficulty in cooking enough food for ten hungry people. But mother, with the resourcefulness of a pioneer, managed someway. On Monday, Jake Klumb and Clint Condon came up and urged them to go to the sod house, before mentioned, 3-4 miles south. But they felt they could stay one more night in the house, so did not go. To keep the snow off the stove, a large quilt was tacked to the ceiling. All the beds were covered with from three to six inches of snow.

One boy, Arthur, was sick in bed which what the doctor called "dumbague", during the storm, and, contrary to expectations, seemed to consider the whole experience with less seriousness than did the well ones. Monday night the storm kept increasing until Tuesday morning it was at its worst. Klumb and Condon came again that afternoon and insisted on their going back with them, as we had gotten to the point where we had no dry wood to keep warm or to cook with. So they all bundled up the best they could and trudged to the warm soddy. The sick boy made the trip in fine shape. The one feature that made it all bearable was the fact that the cold was not severe, it being so late in the season. Tuesday evening a man by the name of Johnson drifted south, lost in the storm, and came within a few feet of the house but didn't see it. Clint Condon, who happened to see the shadow pass him, caught the man and he was taken inside. He lived 1 3/4 miles north and had tried to get to his house after tending the stock and was drifting with the storm when Condon by mere chance saw him pass. He was still so confused that after the storm cleared he had to be taken nearly to his house before sense of direction came back to him.

On Thursday, the storm cleared and two of the men went to the Westenhaver place and found a sorry looking place. The house was filled to the ceiling with snow. Clearing out the house the men happened to think of the dog which had been forgotten until then. They called his name and a movement in the snow on one of the beds revealed Rover who emerged shaking off the snow. He had taken refuge on the bed and had let the snow drift over him. The barn was the worst. The cattle and horses had tramped the snow under foot until their backs were up to the roof, where there was a roof; and the others tied to the manger had their heads down in the snow, held by halters. Both house and barn were cleared of snow and the sun came out and made them forget their experiences. In a few days, the snow had gone and the fields were green with growing grain and all went on as usual.

Clint Condon as soon as possible went to see how the Splinter family fared. He found the side of the draw completely filled with snow where the dugout was and had difficulty in locating the place. Finally he noticed a thin column of smoke coming out of a drift and went to the spot to find it was the stovepipe. He called to Fred and asked him if he had a shovel and was told there was one in the dugout barn across the draw, on the windy side where there was no snow. Clint said they wouldn't have gotten out by themselves until the snow melted. They were soon dug out and freed from their imprisonment.

My father had purchased two additional 80's, one on R.R. Sec. 35 and one on 27. Soon after a sod addition was built on the frame house. The walls were 24 inches thick. The roof was held by a 6 x 6 ridge timber and then 2 x 6 plates laid on the walls and stock boards laid on and nailed, and sod placed on the boards. Walls were plastered with clay and ashes and finally whitewashed all over inside. It made a very cozy place and was always the refuge of the family in winter. And in the memory of the writer, no storm ever raged--even the one of January 12, 1888--that was felt when inside this part of the house. I remember during the `88 storm, which, when at its worst, roared like the noise of a heavy freight train, when the door was opened, and when closed it was almost silent inside.

In 1874, the grasshoppers came in such numbers that they darkened the sun for two days. Growing crops were soon reduced to mere stubs, and not many of them were left above ground. The hungry hordes attacked everything eatable, and some things not eatable. They gnawed the handles of pitchforks, hoe handles and everything left outside. Theodore was farming his place and boarding at home. He came to dinner one day and remarked he had something down there they wouldn't eat. He had planted some tobacco and the plants were well on the way to maturity. But when he went back after dinner he didn't have a stub left.

Daniel Westenhaver homesteaded for the Shaw children whose father was a soldier, the NW l/4 of Sec. 26, and for W. C. Bailey, soldiers heirs, the NE l/4 of Sec. 26, Jackson the SE l/4, Theodore Westenhaver the E l/2 of SW l/4, which made up the entire section. Thomas C. Klumb, Bill Warren, W. S. Dory, Jake Klumb, L. P. Beeman and C. C. Boslaw took up the entire section 34. All of these named people came from Green county, Wis., and were well acquainted, so they continued as neighbors during the following years.

Bill Warren remained only a few years, sold his claim and went back to Wisconsin. The rest stayed and built homes, tilled the land and became permanent settlers. Very soon the county settled up and the first years of hardship were only a memory.