The land area that came to be known as Stevens County was ceded to the United States government by the Dakota Indians in the treaty of the Traverse des Sioux in 1851. Government and railroad exploration parties, Red River Trail oxcarts, and pioneers and missionaries had come through the area long before it was officially ceded or settled. After the Dakota uprising of 1862, the United States government made the decision to put a fort in Dakota Territory. In 1864, Fort Wadsworth, later called Fort Sisseton, was built. Mule teams with supplies for soldiers and Native Americans, and pioneers began traveling in greater numbers across the tallgrass prairies of Stevens County from St. Cloud and into Dakota Territory. Pioneers from many different countries settled in Stevens County to break up the prairie sod and plant wheat and tree claims on their homesteaded land. Grasshoppers, prairie fires, and blizzards tested their determination, but the hardy ones survived to provide for their children’s education, organize local governments, and build homes, churches, and businesses.
About the Author
The authors of this book present Stevens County and its important pioneer history in a style that invites the reader to look at all aspects of life in the county. In stories and photographs from the collection of the Stevens County Historical Society, Stevens County tells of pioneers, their descendents, and the full and varied lives they lived on the tallgrass prairie of westcentral Minnesota.
Table of Contents
Arts and Culture 25
Business and Industry 35
Early Settlers and Homes 59
Family Life and Leisure 87
Main Street 105
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Stevens County, Minnesota (Images of America Series) based on 0 ratings. 3 reviews.
Very interesting plot, and if was more detailed and more sentences, it could probably be published. PLEASE KEEP ON GOING!!!
You story is really well written and exciting! Keep up the good work! ~Diana
I pinned the man down with my free hand, the other still holding the kitchen knife. "Where is your money kept?" I asked in my most demanding voice, each syllable threatening death.<br> The man's pasty face went white and he struggled for breath. "Un-un-under my p-pillow," he babbled fearfully. "M-my wallet, that is."<br> "Thank you."<br> He was obviously hoping l would slip away so he could escape, but an assassin must be cleverer than that. I quickly slit his throat, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, then found his leather wallet and stuffed it in my utility belt. It was fat with Cirunas. Yes! I told myself, wiping the knife clean of blood and putting it neatly back into his kitchen cupboard. Not only will you get a high pay from the employer, you get a bonus- the dead man's wallet!<br> The mayor of Borusi usually ignored killings done by assassins, because the ones that made the most of them never got caught. All a townsperson could do to protect themselves was lock the windows and doors at night. Bounty hunters were like smoke: they slipped through your fingers every time.<br> I returned to my apartment, sticking the silver key into the lock to get in. The door wouldn't open. I rattled the knob impatiently. Then l saw what was blocking it. Another thick, cream paper envelope was stuck tidily under the door. I stuck my thumbnail under the seal.<p> To Whom This May Concern,<p> You are cordially invited to my home, same place, same time, tomorrow night. Bring equipment and casual clothing. You are going to recieve your first assignment.<p> Good luck!<p> Teacher<p> Ah...l remember him. I noticed how carefully the letter is written, so if it was intercepted, it would not disclose anything secret. I yawned. Killing is a tiring business.<br> As when l got Teacher's first letter, i felt jumpy and restless. Walking to my window, l watched the glittering lights of Borusi twinkle before my eyes. What if l hadn't been an assassin? What if my parents hadn't died? I would probably be a normal older teen boy, loitering on street corners, whistling at passing girls. Studying for exams. Getting ready to spread my wings in the real world, where l could be a senator or a government official. Ironically, those were the people l killed. I lay down in bed and closed my eyes...<p> A little boy is running up a dark alleyway, dodging garbage cans and old wooden packing crates. Rats squeal and run freely across his path. The little boy is crying, his good clothes smeared with grime. His pale skin and spiky dark hair are recognizable.<p> It's me.<p> I look only eight or nine. I'm running, running and crying. I collapse, panting.<br> A man comes in, leather bootsteps echoing on the concrete. He is huge, a giant, with shoulder-length tangled gray hair and a tattered cloak. His face is creased and gentle.<br> "Shhhh..."<br> I bury my face in his shoulder. He scoops me up.<br> "What's yer name?" He asked gruffly. "I'll get yeh home."<br> "Sammy," l told him, my black eyes looking into his. "M-my parents are dead. Nobody wants me." An edge of contempt crept into my childish voice then. "Mammy and Pappy's friends say they don't want me. They don't want to care for me."<br> The man nodded knowingly. "I see. Well, my name is Grizz, and l can care for yeh. Do you want to learn how to hurt the people that wouldn't help yeh?"<br> "Yes," l whispered firmly.<br> "Alright. But l gotta give yeh a new name. Sammy won't do. Yehr new name will be Shade."