History & Education

MY GRANDMOTHER'S SCRAPBOOK
PART I
A true story written by 
Mrs. Phyllis Ceretto

In the fall of 1864, a warning was given to the settlers on the west side of the Platte River at Fort Lupton that a band of Indians, most likely the Plains Sioux, had massacred a family in the north.

The settlers immediately gathered together their few belongings they would need and started for the thriving little village on the banks of Cherry Creek, which is now Denver.  They traveled in covered wagons drawn by oxen. From three and a half to four hours were necessary to make the hot, dusty trip in summer, and in winter the long, cold ride was much slower. The road followed the Platte River and the trees gave protection from the Indians.

In this group was the Winbourn family who lived on a homestead just across the river. In fact, their home was a log cabin on an island.

After traveling several weary miles, someone discovered that the eldest Winbourn boy, Tom, was missing. A frantic search began through all the wagons, but no boy was to be found. However, when everyone had concluded that the boy had been stolen by the Indians, he was discovered fast asleep in the rear of the wagon driven by a man known as Negro John.

When the train of oxen-drawn wagons reached Denver, they camped and found houses in which to spend the biggest part of that year. They were surrounded by United States troops. Mr. Winbourn returned home to harvest his crop. He lived in the fort and carried a gun with him everywhere he went to protect himself from the still-hostile Indians.

In November, a baby girl was born to the Winbourns. She was given the name Junie, short for Julina.

The following spring found the homesteaders returning to their homes where they planted their ground, anticipating a fruitful harvest. The fort provided protection in case of Indian raids.

When Junie was two, Aunt Mary, Mr. Winbourn's sister, came to live with them. She told an interesting story of her trip, starting from Marysville, Missouri, in the spring with her nephew and crossing the plains in a prairie schooner. It was only the previous fall that the Plains Sioux had been on the warpath, and roving bands of Indians often came within sight of the pioneers. They reached Fort Lupton without the loss of a single member of their party late in the summer of 1866.

One year before Aunt Mary's arrival in the little settlement of Fort Lupton, a white man had been killed by Indians only a quarter of a mile from the earthen fort. Indian scares were common in the late sixties, and the women and children often went to the fort for protection.

Aunt Mary had never married. Romances were many in her life, and as a Southern Belle in the Confederate town of Greensboro, North Carolina, she had many suitors. But she had believed it her duty to care for her invalid mother. When she came to live with her brother and his family, she brought among her treasures from the South, a Bible which had been in her family 150 years, bits of rare lace, and pressed flowers gathered from the battlefield near Greensboro where General McClellan waged his Civil War battles.

When Junie and her brothers and one sister became of school age, they attended school inn Fort Lupton, and at various times in Denver, if the Indians were particularly unfriendly.

Mr. Winbourn had quite a number of horses and cows. He milked cows, and once or twice a week, Mrs. Winbourn churned butter. Some of the butter was exchanged for groceries. On these trips to town, the girls rode in the back of the wagon on new-mown hay and cottonwood boughs which were placed there to protect the butter from the hot sun.

A sewing machine was an unknown luxury in the community until a salesman from Denver sold Mr. Winbourn a Wheeler & Wilson model. Mr. Winbourn was such a proud owner that he did all the sewing himself. Women came from all over the country to have the ruffles made for their dresses. The ladies wore hoop skirts with ruffles from the waist to the hem which was about six inches from the floor and required about eighteen yards of ruffling.