26 May 1811 Near the banks of the Little Wabash, Illinois Territory

As I stand on the river banks, I recall that most of my life I have lived by a river. The river has been the fastest way for our family to pick up and move on. My life started by the Ipswich River in my Massachusetts. Now I find myself wading in the shallows of the Little Wabash in what is called Illinois with my skirts held high and my bare feet touching her waters. I think of the rivers as women who bring you home.

Married to Joseph Boultinghouse since the age of 17, I find myself today at the old age of 66 years. I have cast my fate to my husband’s good judgments. I watched him stand with General Washington against King George. I watched him build our farm by the Monongahela River near what is called the city of Pittsburgh. I watched him as we moved down the waters of the Ohio into the Ohio and Indiana territories. Finally, I watched him as we floated down the yet another river to make a home in Illinois. Yes, migration has been the king and queen of our river explorations.

As I gaze out at her waters, I see nature with all its wildlife beckoning me to love it. I see our cabin reaching out for me to claim it as home. As I look back over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse at the family graveyard we have started. It is there that my sweet Joseph lies. Finally, I have found my true home here by the river. She blesses me. She consoles me. She holds me in her embrace to simply enjoy the sweetness of her peace.

And so, I entrust myself to her presence. I entrust myself to the care of my son Daniel and his family who live as my neighbors. I entrust myself to God’s care. I entrust…

~Rachel Buxton Boultinghouse

Note: Rachel and Joseph are my 4th great grandparents. It is amazing to me that they floated down river after river seeking new places to call home. What drew them westward? What called to them? I admire Rachel for placing her complete trust in her God and Joseph. She is another of the faith-filled women who grace my family tree. Thank you, Rachel.

26 February 1925 Bloomington, Osborne County, Kansas

As I look out at the day’s snow, I am sitting with a new book in which to record facts. Lying on the desk are also my gold fountain pen and watch. When I was a young woman of 17 years, I was given the pen and the watch as gifts. Those few years ago, I was a substitute teacher at the nearby schoolhouse. I was assigned the primary room. My mother, Naomi Ruth, had given me these gifts to celebrate my new vocation as teacher.

Five years later, I am the mature age of 22 years. I am celebrating my new vocation. I am married…I am a farm wife…I am a new mother. My baby daughter was born last October, and we named her Merna Mae. My husband Andrew enjoys cuddling her and calling her “Mae Mae”. He promises her that he will take her with him on his horse Beauty when she is old enough. I promise her that I will teach her how to quilt and crochet when her fingers are ready. We three are my little family.

A new book we have been given is from my Aunt Helen. It is a baby book in which Mae Mae’s growth and accomplishments are recorded. With gold pen in hand, I have recorded that my little one sprouted her first tooth and laughed out loud at three months. Her first trips were to see Grandma Boultinghouse and Grandma Storer at their farms. My mother (Grandma B) is ever present with her camera and takes her pictures so we can include them in the book. I enjoy watching Mae Mae as the days, weeks, and months go by so I can record her progress. In writing and recording these facts, I bring a sweetness to my days.

And so, our lives together will go by…I will continue to note and cherish these new days of motherhood.

~Isabella Mary (Boultinghouse) Storer

Note: Isabella and Andrew Storer are my maternal grandparents while Mae Mae is my mother. I have that baby book, which is now over 100 years old. A fascinating fact (at least to me) is in it there is a picture of Mae Mae and her dad on his horse Beauty…she looks to be about one year old. An identical picture was taken of me and my grandfather when I was one year old…it is in my baby book. And, yes…I have Isabella’s pen and watch.

Ironton, Iron County, Missouri May, 1878

As I take my seat in the back of the courtroom, I scrunch myself onto the crowded bench. The courtroom is packed with curiosity seekers. They all want to view the face of the accused woman…accused of murder…accused of murder of a child.

This criminal case had taken many years to come to trial. The accused had used tactics to delay it, to change the venue, to play her cards just right. Were her actions that of a mentally ill defendant or that of a skilled actress? The element of surprise in this case was that the defendant was able to bring the legal wheels of justice to many screeching halts.

On trial is Rosabelle Rebecca Eldridge Freeland Eads Howard Boltinghouse, aged 49 years old. She had been described as “a beautiful fiend in a human body”. So many stories about her…about her four marriages…about her alleged conspiracy to do away with her parents so she could inherit their land…about her dealings with horse thief Joe Howard who had been hung by vigilantes…about her hysterics and fainting in another courtroom in another county. Rumors had it that vigilantes wanted to hang her, too, to get justice done and over. She has been escorted by armed guards from her hotel to the jail in the middle of the night…a hotel she had refused to leave. Doctors assigned by the court have examined her to determine if she was playing it for all it was worth or is really mentally ill.

Rosabelle is accused of murdering a 6 year old boy, whom she had adopted. The murder took place on 1 April 1872. When little Louis Taylor had lied to her about stealing three eggs, she beat him with an axe handle until he was deceased. She asked her lover Charles Eads to help her hide the body. All of this had been witnessed by the boy’s older sister, Mary Josephine Taylor. A few days later, she and Eads left the older sister in a deserted area of mountains to die so there would be no living witness. Eads left for parts unknown while Rosabelle headed to St. Louis.

Eads was apprehended after several years…the older sister had lived and reported the crime to authorities. He was arrested and jailed. While there, he wrote letters to Mrs. Rosa Boltinghouse in St. Louis. Jailers and detectives took note and decided to seek out this Mrs. Boltinghouse as they felt this was his accomplice they were seeking.

When located in St. Louis, she was found to be living with a Frank Boltinghouse. She stated that she was expecting a child as she pleaded with authorities not to arrest her. She was arrested and jailed. Frank came to the jail to see her. He reported that Rosabelle was his mistress. He stated his age as 24 when in actuality he was only 15. They were married in a police captain’s office. There are no records of the expected child…was that another ruse?

And so six years later, the day of the trial has finally come. Dressed in black, the defendant enters the courtroom. She swoons and asks to be lie down on a bench. Groaning and screaming, she attempts to delay the proceedings. This time, Rosa will not be successful. The main witness for the prosecution is the older sister, Mary Josephine, who was left to die. She is now 20 years old and remembers that murderous day so well. She testifies. When the jury returns with a verdict, Rosa is found guilty of second degree murder. It will be three years later when she will begin her sentence of 10 years in the penitentiary. No surprise…convicted at last. But was justice done with serving only a ten year sentence?

~Reported by MaryAnne Slabik-Haffner, 21st Century Time Traveler

Note: Frank Boltinghouse was my second great uncle. Divorce records cannot be located for the couple. The trial was covered by newspapers from Cincinnati, Ohio, to St. Louis, Missouri. Rosa would serve her time, return to St. Louis, and pass away in 1900.