A Sketch of Pioneer Life in Idaho | Previous Challenge Entry

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TITLE: A Sketch of Pioneer Life in Idaho | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ruby Isaac
09/04/25
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About twenty years ago my grandson asked, “What was it like to grow up in Idaho?” knowing that it was my home state. He did not realize that my mother had also grown up there or that his Idaho ancestry reached back several generations. This is what I told him as he aspired to understand his roots:

“My mother told an interesting story about visiting her own grandparents as a child. ‘To get to their house,’ she explained, ‘we had to walk along a steep, narrow mountain trail down into a canyon that was a mile deep. There were no roads. We had to carry everything we needed down that long switchback trail.’”

“Couldn’t you ride horseback?” I had asked.

“No-o,” she shook her head adamantly. “It was too steep! The trailhead began near Grangeville. It zigzagged back and forth sharply. Below my grandparents’ primitive house the foaming Salmon River—the famous river of no return—roared through the rugged Sawtooth Mountains.” They lived in the raw wilderness.

The years flew by. My mother grew up and boarded with a family while she taught in a one-room schoolhouse in an area known as “Forest.” She rode a horse to school, tethered it, unlocked the door, and built a fire to heat the schoolhouse before the children arrived. Another morning chore was carrying drinking water inside.

Eventually she married the oldest son of her landlady. The newlyweds rented a farm near Winchester and settled down to raise crops and begin their family. I was the second-born of their three children.

As our young family finished breakfast one chilly morning in late September of 1937, our old dog Dude dozed lazily on the front porch. Suddenly he jumped up and dashed out into the yard in a fit of frenzy, growling and barking like a crazed maniac. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up. Dude was a random mix of Sheepdog, Collie, and probably German Shepherd. Strangers he did. not. like.

At the time, I was a two-year-old towhead wearing diapers and a little flannel nightgown. That is why I do not remember the details described here. But I’ve overheard my parents tell this story a number of times. It is part of my life history.

Our family lived in a drafty old farmhouse about twenty miles south of Lewiston, Idaho. Winchester was an early American pioneer outpost which served a farming and logging community. It had a lumber mill, grocery store, general store, a schoolhouse, and a few other community service buildings. But that was all.

So what was going on outside that upset Dude so much? I toddled over to look out of the big window. My father, followed by my six-year-old brother, had gone out to whistle back the dog. Through the window I watched in wide-eyed wonder as a most unusual scene unfolded.

Half a dozen Native Americans trotted their Spotted Appaloosa and Nez Perce Horse breeds into our yard and dismounted. The spokesman and leader of the group was a friendly man with a colorful feathered headdress. He spotted me watching from the window and pointed with an outstretched arm.

“Papoose!” he said, speaking his own language. His word came with two little puffs of visible white breath that cut the frosty morning air. It served as an ice breaker to set the amiable tone for this unexpected visit. The Nez Perce tribe, although nomadic, often congregated in Lapwai, a little village near Winchester. For them, Lapwai was a central gathering place and a hub of activity.

This little band of horsemen aspired to barter their crafts. They wanted new potatoes and fresh corn which my father provided for them to take back to Lapwai. In exchange he received a brightly colored hand-woven blanket, various arrowheads chiseled from stone, and two pairs of deerskin leather gloves. These were beaded with tiny dyed segments of hollow porcupine quills. One pair was for adult men, the other for children.

The cordial relationship between early settlers and the Nez Perce
tribe was mutually beneficial. Their reciprocal respect and support was life-sustaining and legendary. I told my grandson that despite hardships and inconvenience, growing up in Idaho was a unique adventure which for me in those pioneer days had just begun.
_______

Psalm 16:11 ESV
You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

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