A family with 9 children survives life on the Kansas prairie in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. The experiences they have illustrate the joys, sorrows, hardships and everyday life of the Midwest pioneers. This faith filled series of stories is true. The eldest child was my great grandmother Alzina Pomeroy Boone.

March 1897

“Milford was away from home a great deal that winter, engaged in the business of hunting and shipping game. His crop of corn to which he had planted 30 acres had not yielded well, and he was discouraged with farming as a way to get ahead. That autumn and winter he gave his time and attention to making a living with his gun. In his absence, we saw some hard times when food and fuel were scarce. We bought groceries on credit till the bill became so large the merchant demanded payment. I had to sell our last hog to satisfy the merchant. Occasionally we had only cornbread and water for our meal, but we made merry over it, playing we were birds, taking a bit and a sip, then “flying away” to return for another “bite and sip, etc.” The little house often rang with childish laughter. “Prattle and smile made home a joy and life was a merry chime” for the little ones, though I felt many misgivings and fears for the future, and nervous foreboding. I prayed much and God strengthened my heart, so when the blow came, I was able to bear it bravely. “

“About two weeks later, on a Sunday, Milford asked me if I wanted the driving horses kept in the barn after breakfast so I could take the children up to my folks, as he and a visiting hunter were going to another hunter’s for the day. I had so hoped he and the visitor would attend church at our schoolhouse that day with me. I told him pleadingly that I’d stay home if I could “make it like Sunday” for him. But he patted my cheek and said, “I guess we will go down to Daniel’s”.

“Monday, about ten o’clock, Milford was hunting about four miles from home. His partner’s gun went off accidentally and shot Milford just above his left hip, and he lived only 20 hours. He was conscious most of the time and told the partner and those who came to help him, “I can’t live. Take me to Father Pomeroy’s. I want to see Alzie and the children.”

More details of the sad day are told in Alzie’s sister’s account. Sadie wrote: “My brother-in-law had gone out before daylight the morning before with an 18 year old boy, to slip up to a big pond to shoot ducks. They were 4 or 5 miles from home and in a big pasture. They had shot into the flock and now were still in hiding and loading their guns. The boy’s gun went off accidentally and hit Milford in the back of his hip. The boy ran a mile to the nearest house to get help. The man was away from home, then all tired and scared he ran almost another mile further for help. He couldn’t talk plain and the woman thought he was a crazy bum and shut the door. When he got back to the first house the man was home and they drove into the pasture and brought my brother-in-law as far as my father’s home.”

Alzie finished the story this way: “The helpers got a good surgeon quickly, who dressed the wound carefully and relieved the pain for awhile, but he couldn’t do anything about the shot that reached internally. Milford’s last words were the prayer “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit” but among sentences he tried to say before were “can’t you make Sunday?” And “I know Jesus can help me.” It was awful to see him suffer so cruelly, but I was thankful that he had those few hours of consciousness and could give such assurance of trust in Jesus. I’m so glad he wasn’t killed instantly as so many hunters are with no Christian hope.

He was buried in Geneva, Kansas, seven miles from our home. The text of the funeral sermon was John 13:7 “What I do thou knowest not now, but thou shalt know hereafter.”

I have met Milford in my dreams since, and always he seemed so happy, so serene, so heavenly. These dreams comforted me so much, and I believe God sent them to me.

Father and Mother invited me to stay and live with them, but I felt a longing to live in the house Milford had built for us as soon as we could get adjusted. I thought the children would grieve most to death for him, but being so young, and accustomed to his being away from home often, they didn’t keep him in mind very long. My grief was softened by my responsibility for my children, and by my assurance that I will see him again in heaven.”