George A. Bruffey, Pioneer, Tells of Plains Journey to Montana in 1863

by Mrs. M. E. Plassmann
Originally published in the Hysham Echo on August 26, 1926

As I entered the car on my way to Fort Benton to attend the Pioneer meeting recently held there, a venerable appearing man, noting my pioneer button, rose to accost me, and introduced himself as George A. Bruffey, a pioneer of Montana of 1863. I was soon in conversation with him and gleaned from this, and the story of his life, which he has written, the following incidents of his career.

He was born in 1842 in Virginia the state famous for its presidents and is of French lineage. Three brothers of the name came to this country shortly after the Massacre of St. Bartholomew. “One of these” records Mr. Bruffey, “Married a scotch lassie, one an Irish woman and the third a Pawtucket maiden. But the records are not sufficiently clear for me to discover which of the three was my ancestor.”

He did not remain in Virginia to take his chances in the presidential line, but went with his father’s family, when but two years old, to Grundy County, Missouri. Here he saw his first rattlesnake. It was, he said seven feet and ten inches long. On being killed and cut open, “out came six or seven young ones, each about one foot long. Father said that he had heard a low whistle, saw the mother open her mouth for an instant and saw the whole brood run down her throat - so ended my first day’s recollection.” A memory to be carried for over eighty years.

Because of malarious conditions in Grundy County, the Bruffey family moved to the Grand River. From where they were located they could watch the emigrants going over the Morman “trace”, westward where the boy was soon to follow them. His was an adventurous spirit, and the stories he heard related of the unknown country beyond, made him long to see it for himself.

The majority of young men are restless, and long for change. The world is all before them, with its manifold opportunities which they long to grasp. The old life, with its sameness, wearies them, and they wish to escape its monotony. It is for this reason our volunteers, in time of war, are chiefly young men; and life in the wilderness offered, previous to 1865, the danger and excitement of war, together with the possibility of gaining wealth. Most of the prominent figures in the early history of the West were young men when they started on the long trail and who did not stand in need of Horace Greeley’s oft-quoted advice to “Go West, young man, go West!” Meeks, Bridger and Bozeman, are three instances that may be recalled.
Young Bruffey did not heed the call at once, although it was becoming more and more insistent, until in 1862, it lured him across the Missouri. In 1863 he was fairly on his Westward way, traveling in the good old-fashioned manner, with an ox team and covered wagon, in a train consisting of thirty wagons that slowly journeyed up the south side of the Platte. This route was chosen as being safer than the north side, where dwelt the warlike Sioux. The train passed Julesburg a short time after the killing of Jules by Slade on the installment plan, as described by Mark Twain in “Rouging It.”

Arriving at Denver, Mr. Bruffey engaged for a short time in brick-making. The old restlessness took possession of him, and he joined a train bound for the Salmon River country. The outfit, provisions, etc., for himself and the Richmond family six in number with whom he traveled were, “two good yoke of oxen, one yoke of three-year-old steers, a yoke of three year old heifers, and two good muzzle loading rifles. Each of us had a colt revolver, flour, bacon, coffee, salt, three gallons of whiskey, and plenty of beans and rice to supply us for a year.

It was not long before the company reached the Black Hills, “which was then a most beautiful country,” as I can personally testify, and a most welcome relief from the hot, arid plains along the Platte. I shall never forget it, for here we picked the first fresh fruit - wild currants - enough of them to make pies for our company.

When Mr. Bruffey and those he was with, passed through the Black Hills, the season was ended, and winter approaching. November was already begun when they reached Snake River, and turned northward. The weather was extremely cold, and a foot of snow covered the ground. By making a forced march, they arrived at Nevada City, November 12, 1863.
The two outstanding events on the road between Snake River and Nevada, were dining on beef and cabbage from the Bitter Root Valley, and in the company of that notorious individual, George Ives.

In Nevada, Virginia City, and vicinity, there was plenty of work for new-comers, and this one soon earned the cost of tools, etc., which it is interesting to compare with present-day prices. Picks often sold for eighteen dollars; the same price in gold for a long-handled shovel. “three gallon camp kettles sold for six dollars; tin cups for ninety cents; butcher knives, five dollars, and salt often sold for one dollar a pound.

After taking an active part in the strenuous life of those days, witnessing the handing of several road agents, including quondam acquaintance, George Ives, who headed the list; and engaging in many occupations, Mr. Bruffey went to the Yellowstone, and was going towards the lake, when he and his partner met a free trapper who told them of having seen what he called “water volcanoes” in the present Yellowstone Park, and offered to guide them there. “He was soon ready and led us across a flat. He was some three hundred paces ahead of Sacket (Bruffey’s partner) and he, in turn was two hundred paces ahead of me. I called out and rode up to Sacket, saying maybe this fellow wanted our outfit like a fellow ‘took’ from his partner last year on White Tail. “Sacket turned back; and that was the last they ever saw of the trapper; but, concludes Mr. Bruffey, We wished in later years that we had followed him.”

This may have been the same trapper who told Colonel Sanders in Bismarck of the geysers, and the Colonel was quite incredulous as Mr. Bruffey and his partner, regarding the truth of the story. Two facts are emphasized by this incident; one being the suspicion with which all strangers were regarded in those days and the other the tendency of old-timers to tell large stories for the effect on the hearer. Years have modified his peculiarity, and the tales now related by the pioneers can be received unsalted.

At the time of the flour famine, the subject of this sketch took an active part in securing this scarce article from the few who had a supply on hand. Whether he was of those who searched private houses, it is not recorded. I have often heard Mrs. W. F. Sanders tell of a committee coming to her house and demanding flour. They were considerate enough to take her word, that she had but a little on hand, and did not insist upon their right of search. When a sack of flour was found, it commanded the fabulous price of ninety-eight dollars. What size the sack, is not stated.

One chapter of Mr. Bruffey’s autobiography begins “May was very rainy. Our dirt roof leaked.” And it is likely his was not a unique experience. Other dirt roofs in Montana were also leaking, and showering mud on the unfortunate ones beneath. Mrs. Beall raised a protective umbrella over her children, while those who had no umbrellas received this downpour on hats and sunbonnets, often long after the storm without had ceased. This was but one of the minor discomforts shared in common by our pioneers, and neither discomforts nor danger could wean this young man from his attachment for Montana. He remained here, engaged in many industries; married, and reared a large family; and now, at the ripe age of eighty-four years, takes pleasure in reviewing his early days in the northwest.

In a brief sketch like this, it is impossible to get the whole story of his life. This, Mr. Bruffey has embodied in a pamphlet entitled Eighty-one years in the West. The story of his later years is familiar to many. There are but few who know his pioneer experiences.

Unlike most pioneers, Mr. Bruffey speaks well of the Indians. From early childhood he has come in contact with them, and has been most of the northwestern tribes. He says “I have known many bad white men, but never a bad Indian.” Print this post