| �I think this is the place to tell some of the history of these pioneers. G. W. Brinnon was born in West Virginia. When a small boy his parents moved to Ohio and then to Missouri. At the age of seventeen he drove a team in a supply wagon train for the government from Missouri points to the Rockies, and continued in the service until 1861; the last two years he was assistant wagon master. At the outbreak of the Civil War he enlisted in the Confederate army and was in several battles, being taken prisoner in 1863. He was paroled and the same year came West, arriving in Boise in the Fall. Boise then was only a little burg of two or three houses and some tents. Later he took charge of the old ferry on the emigrant road near the Boise River. He was compelled at times to defend his property against Indians. The next year he went to Emmett and married Nancy Smith, who came from Missouri and crossed the plains in the same wagon train in which Mr. Brinnon came West. He went to Malheur City Oregon in 1867 where he engaged in mining. In 1871 they settled at the mouth of the Malheur River where they secured 400 acres of land and engaged in stock raising. He also operated the Washoe Ferry which he secured from Mr. Emison. Mrs. Brinnon died in 1887. After his wife�s death Mr. Brinnon sold his place to his son-in-law, Thomas J. Brosnan. Part of this place is known as the Thayer ranch. Mr. and Mrs. Brinnon both rest in the Ontario cemetery. Mr. Brinnon died at the home of his daughter, Mrs. Brosnan almost on the exact spot where he erected his first permanent home. It is the first house we have any record of being built in this part of the country. (1871) Mr. Stroup died, 1925 at Ontario, Oregon, Mrs. Stroup, 1935. Mrs. Stroup�s brother, J. A. Draper, came west in 1876 and worked on the Stroup place in Washoe a year, when he took up the occupation of �bull-whacker�, and freighted for sometime for John Hall, a pioneer of Payette Valley, driving an ox team between Kelton, Utah, and Boise, Idaho. On one of these trips his caravan came upon the smoldering ruins of another wagon train of freighters that had been attacked and destroyed by Bannock Indians, who had scattered the contents of the wagons in all directions, taking what they desired before setting fire to the wagons. This attack occured near Glenns Ferry. Luckily for the teamsters they were driving horses instead of oxen and seeing the redskins approaching from a distance, they were able to cut their horses loose from the wagons in time to mount and escape from the bloody savages. The sight of the destroyed wagon train was enough for Mr. Draper, and he resigned as a bull-whacker upon his arrival in Boise. Mrs. Brinnon relates some of her experiences in 1877. Mrs. Brinnon was at the Washoe Ferry through the Nez Perce Indian War of 1877 and the Bannock War of 1878. The Indians roamed this valley at their will. There were no towns closer than Baker City, Oregon and Boise, Idaho. The settlers went to Baker City, over 100 miles, for mail and supplies. Just before the Bannock War some chief and Scarface Charlie, an Indian boy whom Mrs. Brinnon had been kind to, told her that in so many moons a great many Indians would cross the river at that point, and for her to leave. Mr. Brinnon ran the Washoe Ferry at that time but it happened the Indians plans went astray. They crossed down the river at Samuel Applegate�s place, making a raft of his house. A great many settlers would have been massacred at that time had the Indians met as they had planned. By this time the Malheur and Payette bottoms had become quiet settled. Mrs. Brinnon said many nights she slept out of doors on the ground, watching for the dreaded forms of the Indians through the darkness while her family slept. When Mr. and Mrs. Stroup first settled on the Malheur near Mr. Smith�s milk ranch, Mr. Stroup and Mr. Smith went to the mines at Silver City, Idaho, where Mr. Smith marketed his butter. Mrs. Smith, her three small children, and I were alone all day. An old miner, Bill Cole, stayed there nights. At that time the Modoc Indian war was going on in the lava beds of Southern Oregon. One Sunday morning two Indians on horse back, with faces hideously painted and with feathers in their hair, carrying guns and tomahawks, stopped at the gate and sat there looking at the house and muttering to one another. We afterwards learned they were on their way to the lava beds. Mr. Smith finally mustered up courage and walked out to the gate saying �How! How!�. The Indians looked sullen and cross and made no reply. It was my first experience and I watched them from the house, frozen with fright. She and I both thought they meant mischief. Finally one said to her �Man! Man!� She kept saying �Man come soon,� pointing toward the river and looking expectantly, although we were alone and the men were in Silver City, miles away. They grew uneasy and finally rode on toward the Butte. |