WHITE CO, AR - Aunt Mary Davenport - WPA Life History

by Mrs. Florence Angermiller, P. W. 

Pioneer Experiences of Mary Davenport and Nancy Kelley, deceased, 
residents of Sabinal UVALDE COUNTY DiSTRICT #10 

as told by Mrs. Emma Kelley Davenport 

"I remember ma mighty well. We all called her ma or mother. She was
born in Missouri in 1823, and a daughter of Captain John Crane. Captain
Crane was a boyhood friend and playmate of Sam Houston and both of them
enlisted in General Jackson's army in Tennessee when the war broke out
with the Creek Indians.

"Of course, she was a grown, married woman when she came to this
country but I've heard the older ones tell about her. She was a tall
woman and large too. She had a handsome face, black hair and hazel
eyes. She was active and a good buisness woman. She managed her own
buisness many a year.

"She first married James Elkins of Walker County in 1839 and they lived
in the county until he died, leaving her with a daughter, Polly Ann,
and ranch stock to take care of.

"She was so pretty and young, of course, the bachelors were soon
courting her but the red-headed one named John Davenport won her. He
brought her and the young Polly Ann to the Sabinal canyon in 1852 in
the train of settlers, among whom were some of his relatives and some
of hers: the Cranes, Davenports, Kellys, Fenleys, Old Man McCormick and
Captain William Ware. They settled in the Sabinal canyon at that time
but in 1854 John moved his family to the D'Hanis settlement. They later
settled on Ranchero Creek and continued in the ranching buisness. [??]
Texas

"About 1858, John Davenport was captain of a company of minute men that
was organized for protection against Indians. Shortly after this, he
was killed by Indians and scalped as he was returning home one
afternoon riding a mule he had meant to trade off. The Indians overtook
him and surrounded him. John fought like a demon but the number of
Indians was too great for him. After he fell from the mule, they
scalped him. They wanted his red hair.

"Ma took up life again as a widow. She was always ready to go to the
sick and rode horseback many a mile at nights to get to a sick bed. And
no one ever came to her house without being fed. Many a person made it
to her place after a hard journey and whether day or night, it mattered
not, she would prepare coffee and something to eat.

"She was a great person to dance. When one of her grandsons or [?] came
to her house, she often picked up her fiddle and played but if they
played it for her, she didn't sit still long; she got up and danced.
She could do regular nigger-jigging and she was a graceful ballroom
dancer too.

"Once she went with a crowd to a dance up at Aldine and while they were
there, they got word that Indians were in the country. Ross Kennedy and
his wife were in the bunch and Mrs. Kennedy says, 'Now, Ross, I'll
handle one of the guns and you handle the other and we'll let Mrs.
Davenport do the driving.' They were driving a two-horse wagon and had
a big bunch of children along. On down the road they discovered that
the tap had run off of one of the wheels. They stopped to see what
could be done and decided to go back after it. They drove back several
miles but never did find that tap. Well, Mrs. Kennedy and me had to
take up watch over the wheel, then. But they didn't run into the
Indians and made it home all right.

"Not only were the Indians a worry to her, but very often, 'renegades'
came to her house. They demanded something to eat and she has told how
frightened she was many a time when she found them suddenly in her
house.

"Renegades were men who were hiding out or going to Mexico to keep from
fighting in the Civil War and they were bad characters, lots of times.
Tales had traveled of how they had done mischief in other places and of
course she didn't know what they might do. Once there were several of
them stopped and demanded food. She set about cooking and fixing a meal
as quickly as she could. They eyed the walls and ceiling and examined
things in the house. She told us afterward that one of the men stood
right on the plank of the floor she kept her money under. She said she
dared not look at the plank because they were watching her. He never
did discover the loose plank and the money was saved.

"For years she had a store about two miles east of where Sabinal now
is. It was the old San Antonio road then and still is. The road forked
at Uvalde and one went to Eagle Pass one road went to Brackettville.
Long mule trains and ox trains used to come by. I've seen them day
after day. The Mexicans used to drive two-wheel ox carts and tied the
yoke on the steers' heads with rawhide strings. It was cruel the way
those poor steers had to hold that load on their heads and pull the
loaded wagons too.

"Ma had her stuff hauled out from San Antonio more by the neighbors
than by the ox trains, though she sent for some of her merchandise like
that too.

"We have an old leather-bound account book she used in her store in
1872 and 1873. She kept a regular bookkeeper and this fine handwriting
is his. Some of these old accounts give you an idea of what they
generally came into the store and bought. Now here's one account --
it's liquor entirely -- including most of the 'old account' of thirty-
six dollars and seventy-five cents:

1872

Aug. 28th To old account ------------- $ 36.75

" " Brot from another page ----- 6.00

Oct. 1st To one treat ---------------- .50

" 8th " one bottle whiskey -------- .75

"The account shows it reached sixty-five dollars and ninety cents but
doesn't show that it was over paid.

"Here are accounts of Billy Biggs, Clabe Davenport, Ambrose Davenport,
George Johnson, John Binnion, Clabe Davenport's hand (Mexican), John
[?], John Miller, Charles Ritcher, John Rinehart, Joe Howel, George
[Billard?] Henry Taylor, Monroe Fenley, John Patterson, [?] Rielly,
Wendy Buckloo, George Johnson, Jr., J. H. Kennedy, John Kennedy, Ben
[?], William Patterson, August Rothe, Jasper Tatum, Henry Patterson,
Jack Gibson, A. [?], Samuel Johnson, J. D. Fenley (father of Monroe
Fenley), J. C. Ware, A. J. Crane, Jeff Johnson and several Mexican
accounts.

"You'll notice that a box of sardines cost thirty cents and the men
were great on coming in and buying a pocket handkerchief which usually
sold for forty cents, though some are recorded for thirty cents. Then
here are other prices:

8 yards calico -------------- $ 1.00

1 box hairpins --------------- .25

1 pair sox ------------------- .30

1 " stockings ---------------- .30

1 bottle musk ---------------- .25 (perfume)

6 lbs starch ----------------- 1.20

5 yds flannel ---------------- 2.25

2 pairs shoes ---------------- 2.50

1 " bachelor boots ----------- 4.50

4 handkerchiefs -------------- 1.40

1 bottle sweet oil ----------- .50

1 plug tobacco --------------- .20

1 hat ------------------------ 3.50

2 lb candy ------------------- .25

1 box oysters ---------------- .23

1 " sardines ----------------- .30

1 can salmon ----------------- .35

1 " devils ham (deviled ham) - .30

2 1/2 lbs rope --------------- .75

1 lb. coffee ----------------- .25

12 lbs. flour ---------------- 1.00

2 bottles of cherries -------- 1.50

1 can peaches ---------------- .50

"Ma was a great person to fix things the grandchildren liked. She made
a drink she called 'desertine' out of fresh milk, eggs and a powder she
bought. When it was cooked it was something like ice cream. All of the
children loved to go there. I used to love to go myself, for she always
kept so much butter, milk and cheese on hand. She made the finest
cheese by using the 'runnet' (renet) from a beef which curdled the
milk. Then she used the cheese press to make it firm.

"She was a fine, Christian woman. She never had much of a chance to do
church work but she never spared herself or anything she had if it was
needed. I've known her to take a pillow off of her own bed to help
someone. The preacher always found a friend and helper when he came to
her house.

"Besides running her store, she had her own stock. She was under the
friendly protection of her old friends and neighbors of that day who
looked after her, and helped with her stock but of course there were
many Maverick yearlings that belonged to her and were possibly branded
other brands because she couldn't be riding after them all the time.
But, she didn't seem to miss it and made money all the time. She loaned
Reading Black $2,500 cash to buy the town site of Uvalde. She seemed to
have cash ready for anything she might choose to invest in. Like the
Bible promises. 'Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it
after many days,' is a true saying and I know her kindness to others
was returned to her many times. There was one time that she took the
last dust of corn meal in her bin to feed a man's horse. He had made it
to her place after a hard ride and she had no horse-feed so she gave
him the meal for his horse.

"Being of a practical turn, ma was sensible about anything which came
up to be done. In hog-killing time, she always got men to help her with
the butchering but she usually handled the rifle herself. She would
pick out the hog she wanted to kill, aim steadily at him and shoot him
right between the eyes everytime. There was someone there to stick the
hog but she was capable of that too. If the occasion arose, she could
stick a hog as well as shoot one.

"There is a tale told yet among ma's friends of the time she told one
of her boys to go out and kill a Maverick yearling. He was gone several
hours and came back without the meat and as she was worrying about not
having some fresh meat, he said, 'Well don't worry, ma, we'll have some
fresh meat by night if we have to kill one of our own!'

"Ma was the mother of six children, who were Polly Ann, the wife of the
late Clabe davenport; Katherine, the wife of the late Monroe Fenley;
John who was my husband; Ambrose who married [?] Reilly and the two
boys who died, Howell and Jim."

NANCY KELLY

Nancy Kelly was a fearless woman, likewise a dependable friend and God-
fearing mother. She came to Texas in 1850, a bride of three years and
lived two years in Kaufman County with her young husband, Chris, who
followed the trail west in 1852 and brought her to live in the Sabinal
Canyon.

"My mother was born in Perry County, Illinois, the daughter of Milton
Williams. Her grandfather, Hobert fought under General George
Washington in the Revolutionary War. When she was very young her
parents brought her to live in Arkansas and there is where she married
my father, Chris Kelly, in 1847 near the town of [?].

"You see, she was only about nineteen when she came out here but she
was to know a long and useful life and raise a large family. It was
more then a year before they had any trouble, to speak of, with the
Indians. For a time it was dangerous to leave the house to work in the
field or to ride after the stock or even get water from the spring
without going armed for fear Indians were hiding close by. It was even
necessary, oft' times for my mother to go to the field with my father
and hold her baby and his gun while he worked.

"The Indians came close to our place many times and they stole lots of
stock from all the settlers. They were so bad that my father finally
decided to take all his stock to California and leave his family at
Uvalde where they'd be safe. Uvalde wasn't more that a little village
then but there were soldiers at Fort Clark and many times there were
rangers stopped there. Of course, it was much safer for a woman and
children to stay in town.

"When my father was getting ready to leave for California, he had the
herd all ready and the men who were helping him start were all camped
at our place that night. I remember mighty well that one of the cowboys
picked me up and stood me in a sugar barrel that was to go in the chuck
wagon. Yes, it was brown sugar and a barrel full of it. They were all
laughing and talking, trying to keep up their spirits for they knew the
journey was long and hard and they'd be many a day.

"But the next morning before day-break, my heart jumped into my throat
and I know that many a sob was strangled when my father's voice floated
out on the still morning air as he sang this old song:

     "'Wake up, wake up You drowsy sleepers Wake up, wake up! It's
almost day! How can you lie and sleep and slumber When your true love
is going away!'

"Oh, my, it was hard to see them go. That long trail where Indians were
bound to be hiding and waiting and we never knew whether they would
ever be seen alive again. The men tried to be cheerful and pass it off
as though it were only in the day's work but they were well aware that
they were leaving anguished hearts behind.

"Old Man Gid Thompson had his herd with my father's. I guess there were
about two thousand head or maybe more, for they bought out other men's
stock to take with them. I remember one brand, J B, that my father
bought out. My father's brand was L C K and my brand was E M A which
stood for my first name, Emma.

"The trail was a long and tedious one and went by way of Fort Stockton.
About a year in advance of them, Old Man Ben Biggs and his boys, Jim
and Billy, had started to California with a herd, about six hundred,
they say. They were starting out that year for California after staying
a year at Fort Stockton and they were about four-hundred miles in
advance of my father. They had ups and downs on that trip to California
and it was pretty hard on them. I have heard him say that when they got
to California and they needed to go into town at San Diego, I believe,
they were all so ragged and torn up that not a one had a decent pair of
pants to ride into town in. John Taylor decided to meet the emergency
so he took the wagon sheet and cut a out a pair of pants with a butcher
knife and made a pair that he could wear into town. I suppose his
leggins hid a great part of the long stitches. The road had been long
and the cowboys were worn out, of course. Their beards and hair made
them look like wild men. But the wagon sheet came into good play and
saved the day. He bought clothes for the other boys you see, and
brought them back to camp, so they could all go to town.

"While my father was gone to California, my mother was living in
Uvalde. He had taken her and us children there for protection. However,
Uvalde wasn't more than a little village then. Anyway, when cool
weather came along, my mother decided to go back up to the ranch and
kill her hogs for winter. Mrs. Thompson went along and she also took
two neighbor boys along horseback. But I know there were not sufficient
guns in the wagon for everyone if the Indians should be encountered.
But mother started out with all us children in the wagon. We had to go
about forty miles up in the canyons but when we reached Nolton Creek on
Uvalde Prairie, we noticed a mounted Indian leading another horse. I
remember that the horse he was leading seemed a little crippled and I
think he tied him and stopped to try to make out what we were doing or
how many men there were. My mother told my two oldest brothers to get
out and get two long sticks and get on the horses that were hitched to
the wagon. They did so and then she told the two boys that were
horseback to tie their larits to the tongue of the wagon and start out.
Mrs. Thompson was frightened and was afraid they were all going to be
killed, but my mother told her to have faith in the Lord and all would
be well. She was courageous and one of the calmest and most serene
persons you ever saw. She wasn't easy to get raffled. Her skeme worked
like magic because the Indian couldn't tell for sure how many men there
were there from where he was, but he could see that there must be four
mounted men armed with guns. And the Indians knew men with rifles could
shoot straight those days.

"My father stayed in California about two years before he sold out his
stock and came home. He came by boat, I remember, so he must have taken
a train to St. Louis and gone by boat to New Orleans and then to
Galveston. We were glad to have him back alive for two years is a long
time for a father and a husband to be away. After he sold his cattle in
California, he returned and bought up considerable land upon the Blanco
and Sabinal. Even after he came back, the Indians were still pilfering
and doing mischief. He was taking us across the country one time from
Uvalde up to the ranch and we stopped at one of our places at the Blue
Water Hole to camp for the night before going on. We unloaded the wagon
for the night and went into the house and my father turned the horses
loose and they hardly got ten steps before the Indians had them. Next
morning we could see what had happened to the horses and my father had
to walk about ten miles to get another team to take us on up to our
home.

"In later years, my mother was always ready to help the younger folks
have a good time. She stayed at home most of the time and worked, but
on occasions, she got to go to San Antonio and other places visiting,
herself. Once she went to San Antonio with my father in a wagon. It
took five days to make the trip there and they went after supplies of
one sort and another. She had bought up a great assortment of dry goods
and on the way back, of course, they had to stop at noon and let the
team rest and eat. In fact, they stopped for all meals and had to camp
at nights. My mother was use to working and she found the time heavy on
her hands so here is where another butcher knife came into play as a
dressmaker's tool. She had the material with her for dresses and she
had everything to sew with except scissors. So she took one of her
butcher knives and cut her dress out while they were stopped at noon.
In those days, it would have been embarrassing to have been caught with
a dull butcher knife in your possession, so I suppose the butcher knife
was sharp enough to cut dress material too. Well, she set to work and
had a complete dress made by the time they got home. Think of its
taking five days NOW to go to San Antonio! Times have certainly changed
in these few years. She let us go to San Antonio one time, just a bunch
of young folks with our brothers. I saw my first street car and I was
really thrilled. They had a little mule hitched to it and it pulled the
little car right along. They had a zoo up at San Pedro Springs and of
course we had to ride on that street car and go to see that zoo. They
had animals we had seen all our lives: a coon, a bear and either a wolf
or a fox, I don't remember which, but it was some little animal we had
seen all our lives. Then they had ducks and geese on the pond and a
good collection of fish. Why, we thought it was a splendid zoo.

"Another thing that was astonishing to us was the ice cream we got
right in summertime. Some of it was pink and some green and different
colors and we surely enjoyed it.

"My father and mother gave a few dances and they were always largely
attended. It was a great occasion to us and I got to where I was
foolish about dancing. All the old ones were fine dancers and graceful
on the floor. We always danced all night. We danced the round dances
and square dances too, it didn't matter. Oh, I thought I was just IT if
I could dance with John Davenport. He was the most graceful dancer I
ever saw on the floor. Usally, we served coffee and cookies or cake.
There was always plenty of coffee and plenty of cake. Mother was a good
person to entertain and so good to work and help with everything.

"She was the greatest person to romp with children. She was nearly
always with them on anything they wanted to do. Especially her
grandchildren. You know she went blind at about the age of forty-five
and she lived about thirty-five years longer before she passed away. I
never saw such a useful person as she was. She never grieved over her
blindness but went right along cheerful and working all the time. She
could thread a needle by feeling of the thread and the eye of the
needle and she would patch and mend for hours. She could do fancy bead
work too. She was always doing something like that.

"I used to work hard on the ranch and would be out of the house, maybe,
for two or three hours leaving her inside when she was staying with me
and I remember that the only complaint she ever uttered was a kindly
question, 'Aren't you ever going to get through, this morning, Emmie?'
I look back now that my wisdom is riper and time has taught me that
material things do not bring happiness and I wish I had known it then
so she might not have spent so many lonely hours. She died some years
ago and there was not one of us who was not left a memory of her
courageous life to model our own by."


Credit: Library of Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project 
Collection.

White

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