Many Loves of Buffalo Bill Page 3

  In time, Louisa and William sent a letter to his sisters announcing their engagement. Julia quickly responded with her best wishes and hope for a happy life together. She wrote that her one regret was that their mother was not alive to share the joy.23 “I was almost hysterical with happiness,” Louisa recalled in her journal upon meeting the Cody sisters for the first time.24 “We all love sister Lou,” Julia assured William after she, Eliza, May, and Helen had gotten to know her for themselves. William’s sisters hoped the news of their brother’s impending wedding meant that he would be staying close to home after he was married.

  In her biography Julia remembered what her relatively self-assured brother had shared with her about the time leading up to his proposing to Louisa. “He was tongue-tied around her and unable to convey the deep affection he had. He was so clumsy with his words he would simply stop speaking all together and stare off in complete silence.” Louisa’s reassuring smile gave him the nerve to tell her how he felt. “Louisa,” he blurted out one evening, “I love you…. I love you very much … and I want you to be my wife.” Finally, he gave her a chance to speak. “Billy,” Louisa responded. “Billy Cody, I’ve been waiting to hear these very words since the first minute I met you. I love you, and I’ll marry you whenever you want me to.”25

  Once nineteen-year-old William had proposed to Louisa, he was determined to find a well-paying job and set money aside to care for his future bride. He hired on with a stageline as a driver, earning $150 a month transporting passengers, supplies, and payroll funds between Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and Fort Kearney, Nebraska.

  William quickly became one of the stageline’s best drivers. The job was fairly routine. He consistently delivered his cargo undamaged and on time. His travels were interrupted only once by a pair of bandits as the stagecoach was leaving the depot at Fort Kearney. Two of the men riding in William’s vehicle looked suspicious to him. He had overheard the two mention that they were part of a gang, and their actions made William believe they knew that the contents of the strongbox atop the stagecoach contained a large amount of money. He decided to hold up the passengers before they had a chance to do the same to him.

  During a stop to check the vehicle’s running gear, William ordered the men off the stage. He leveled his revolvers at them and demanded that they throw down their guns. He then tied them up and put them back in the vehicle. He dropped the would-be thieves off with the sheriff at the first stage station and, before continuing on his way, removed the money from the strongbox and hid it inside the seat cushion.

  While driving through a grove of thick timber, six armed highwaymen blocked the trail and stopped the coach. The bandits rifled through the strongbox and were furious to learn it was empty. William informed them that two passengers he was traveling with earlier in the day had already taken the treasure. The criminals rode out after the fellow gang members they believed had deceived them, and William was free to carry on. He delivered the goods intact.

  William wrote his sisters and Louisa about the experience. According to Helen, Louisa quickly sent word back pleading with him to “give up the wild life he was leading, return East, and find another calling.” William penned a letter to his fiancée promising her that he would quit and asked her to set a wedding date.26

  TWOThe Courtship of Louisa

  I now adored [Miss Frederici] above any other young lady I had ever seen.

  —WILLIAM CODY (1879)

  William Cody waltzed his new bride, the former Louisa Frederici, around the floor of the dining room on board the side-wheel steamer Morning Star. Several eyes watched the attractive couple gliding from one side of the room to the other. The newlyweds were completely absorbed in each other and took no real notice of their surroundings. William was an attractive but wild-looking twenty-year-old with long, brown hair that hung over his shoulders. A little mustache and goatee clung to the upper lip and chin of his ruggedly handsome face. His fringed buckskin-style western fashion was in direct contrast to the other male passengers, but suited his overall unique appearance.1

  Louisa, whom William described as a “comely St. Louis girl of French descent,” was radiant in her evening dress of black chambray gauze. Her dark hair was braided and pinned neatly on top of her head, and long tendrils dangled past her neck and ears. William proudly smiled at his charming bride. Louisa returned the favor. In that moment they saw in each other every positive quality and wonderful characteristic they possessed. They saw their future as hopeful and void of complications.2

  William met Louisa in May 1865. He was a serviceman with the Seventh Kansas Volunteer Cavalry stationed at the military headquarters in St. Louis, Missouri. While there, he was introduced to the young woman who would become his wife. “I became acquainted with Louisa,” William wrote in his biography, “a young lady whom I greatly admired and in whose charming society I spent many a pleasant hour.”3

  Margaret Louisa Frederici was born on May 27, 1843, in Arnold, Missouri. Her father, Christopher, was a successful farmer who had immigrated to the United States from Alsace-Lorraine, France. He and his wife, Elizabeth, were a very religious couple, and their three children were educated at a convent in St. Louis.4

  Louisa was an accomplished equestrian, and, according to William, the first time he noticed her, she was riding. He told his sister Helen that “more than once while out for a morning cantor, I noticed a young woman of attractive face and figure, who sat her horse with the grace of Diana Vernon.” (Vernon was a character from a popular book at the time, Rob Roy. She was beautiful and an exceptional horsewoman.) Helen noted in her biography that “few things caught Will’s eye more quickly than fine horsemanship.” William wanted to meet Louisa, but, as none of his close friends knew her, he thought it would be impossible.5

  Louisa’s cousin, Will McDonald, eventually introduced the two. While on leave from the army in May 1865, William visited Will, who was staying at the Frederici’s home. Louisa was sitting in a chair in front of a fire, engrossed in a book, when William saw her. She didn’t notice that the two Wills were in the room until her cousin, a notorious prankster, pulled the chair out from under her. Louisa jumped to her feet, turned, and slapped the man behind her chair. She was mortified when she realized it wasn’t her cousin she hit, but William. She apologized over and over again; each time William accepted.6

  His forgiving spirit attracted Louisa almost as much as his appearance. She recalled in her memoirs that “William was tall and straight and strong, his hair was jet black, his features finely molded, and his eyes clear and sharp, determined and yet kindly, with a twinkle in them.” William approved highly of Louisa as well. According to his biography, he thought she was the “handsomest, sweetest thing I’d ever seen in my life.”7

  After a brief courtship, William returned to the military post to finish his time in the army. He was dispatched to a variety of camps during his career as a soldier, and he and Louisa wrote each other often. Although the correspondences were lost somewhere in the family’s multiple trips over the plains, Louisa noted in her memoirs that one of those early letters “read something like this”: “My dear Lulu, I know you will forgive me for calling you this—because you will always be LuLu to me, just as I will be glad if I may always be Willie to you.”

  In addition to writing heartfelt letters to Louisa, William penned a few poems. Louisa couldn’t always make sense of the verses, but she appreciated the effort.

  While writing her biography in 1919, she recalled a poem he wrote for her that consisted of only four lines: “The blazing sun of brilliant day, may veil the light of stars above. But no amount of heavy veils can o’er deceive the eyes of love.”8

  Private Cody was discharged from the military at the end of the Civil War, after which he and Louisa were reunited. William wrote in his memoirs that he had made up his mind to “capture the heart of Miss Frederici, whom I adore above any other young lady I had ever seen.” Louisa felt as strongly for William as he did for her. “The result
,” he later noted, “was that I obtained her consent to marry me in the near future.”9

  Louisa and William exchanged vows at her parents’ home on March 6, 1866, in almost the exact spot where they had met. Many of their friends and family attended the ceremony, which ended in a prayer for a long, happy life together.

  After the wedding the pair immediately headed to the docks to board a steamer for a trip down the river to Leavenworth, Kansas. The wedding party, including the bride’s mother and father, escorted the newlyweds to the pier. A number of passengers waiting to get on the vessel recognized William from newspaper articles and pointed him out to one another as he and Louisa walked by them. Not everyone behaved kindly toward him and his new wife. Some of the glares cast at William were openly hostile. Soon, friends and relatives of the Fredericis were asking Louisa’s father if he knew who William really was and whether his son-in-law had any credentials.

  Criminal accusations, leveled by Southern sympathizers who knew that William had fought for the North in the Civil War, filtered through the crowd and found their way to Louisa’s father. The claim was that William was a “desperate outlaw, bandit, and house-burner on the frontier.” Louisa’s father was upset by the charges and confronted William, demanding to know if there was any truth to what was being said. William explained that their bitterness was solely a result of his position in the war. His father-in-law did not readily accept the argument and threatened to take Louisa home with him. “I besought him to leave the decision to her,” William recalled in his memoirs, “and for the next ten minutes I pleaded my case with all the eloquence I could command. I was talking against odds, for my wife, as well as her parents’ friends, were ardent southerners…. But when I put the case to her she said gamely that she had taken me for better or for worse and intended to stick to me.”

  Louisa was in tears by the time the steamer left St. Louis. Her parents objected to her leaving with William. She hated to defy them but felt it was what she needed to do. The dispute saddened her, and no amount of reassurance from William that she had made the right decision seemed to make a difference. “When we are among northern people I will not be regarded as such a desperate character,” he told her as they headed to their stateroom.

  The newlyweds’ situation did not improve as the day wore on. Unfriendly eyes bore holes into William’s head as the pair ate their evening meal in the dining room. Passengers huddled together whispering about the couple and pointing. When the Codys stood up to dance, many of the other travelers left the dance floor. A weeping Louisa retired early to escape the rude behavior.

  After she had left their table, a kind gentleman from Indiana spoke with William about the reason for the unprovoked behavior. “To tell the truth Mr. Cody,” William remembered the man saying, “these men are Missourians and say they recognize you as one of Jennison’s Jayhawkers; that you were an enemy of theirs.” (Jennison’s Jayhawkers was a nickname for the Seventh Kansas Cavalry, commanded by Colonel Charles R. Jennison, of which William was a member.)

  William discussed his role as a scout and soldier with the Union army and recounted some of the early Kansas border battles in which he and his father had played a prominent part.

  The captain of the steamer had seen the way some of the passengers had behaved toward the Codys and was compelled to speak with William about the situation. “It is shameful the way these people are treating you,” he confessed, “but let it pass, and when we get to Independence everything will be all right.”

  Louisa was still crying when William returned to their stateroom. He held her tightly and told her what the captain had said. The captain’s comments provided comfort enough for her to fall asleep for a little while. William was growing increasingly agitated with the Rebels’ overt intrusion on his honeymoon. According to his autobiography, he “walked the floor all night.”

  When the Codys emerged from their room the following morning, they were greeted with more snarls from the belligerent southerners. William threatened to get his guns and settle the matter, but Louisa talked him out of it. By midafternoon the Rebels were in a rage. The steamer docked so that the crew could gather wood, and when they left the vessel, they found themselves under fire by a party of armed men on horseback. The Missourians stood on the deck excitedly watching the action and cheering. The ship’s captain quickly ordered the vehicle away from the landing before any of the gunmen could jump on board. William and Louisa were witnesses to the attack and overheard the leader of the gunmen bellow, “Where is that Kansas Jayhawker? We have come for him!”

  William was furious and immediately raced to the stateroom to retrieve his revolvers. He returned to the deck carrying a gun in each hand. He strode past the mouthy Confederates, defying them to challenge him. No one said a word. William proceeded to the steward’s office, where he met several men dressed in blue uniforms who had been discharged from the military. “They were traveling to Kansas, in steerage, saving their money so they might have it to invest in homes when they reached their destination,” William recounted in his autobiography. “They had all heard of me, and now proposed to arm themselves and defend me should there be any further hostile demonstrations. I gladly welcomed their support, more for my wife’s sake than my own.”10

  The soldiers’ help was ultimately not needed. William’s display of weapons had defused the situation between himself and the Missourians. It was only after things had settled down that William learned that one of the southerners had telegraphed the James and Younger brothers to let them know he was on the steamship. The outlaws were to meet the ship when it docked and capture William.

  Louisa was distressed not only by the news of the elaborate attempt to kill her husband but also by the sight of William brandishing a pair of revolvers. “She was now certain that I was the bandit I had been accused of being,” William later recalled. The supporters William met in the steward’s office assured him that his wife would soon change her mind. “Wait till she gets among Union people,” one of the men told William. “She will learn her mistake then.”11

  In an effort to help dispel any false assumptions Louisa had about her new husband, the former Union soldiers and several members of the steamer’s crew organized a ball to be held in the Codys’ honor. The Southern sympathizers watched in disgust as the preparations were made for the event. Fearful of retaliation, the southerners demanded that the captain of the steamship let them off at the next town. The captain refused their request.

  The ball was well attended by northerners and other passengers who objected to the way William and Louisa had been unfairly treated. All of Louisa’s doubts and anxieties faded as she met new friends, talked about her future with William, and danced with her husband. When the couple arrived in Leavenworth, they were greeted by several of William’s friends, family, business associates, and local politicians. At a banquet the newlyweds attended that evening, Louisa threw her arms around her spouse and declared that she didn’t believe him to be an outlaw. “Will’s arms went about my waist and he drew me to him,” Louisa recollected in her biography, “and described the future he had in mind for us.” “I’m taking you into a new country, a strange country,” he told her.12

  Since their wedding, neither of them had given much thought to how rough life in the unsettled West would be for Louisa. “You’re going to meet gamblers and ruffians who have killed, men who have mighty little in the world to recommend them except that they are helping to populate this country out here.” Louisa remembered that she was silent for a moment after William’s announcement, but then she “caught his hand in hers and pressed tight.”13

  Before William and Louisa got married, she asked him to think about finding a job close to home. She didn’t want to be left alone or William to be scouting the potentially dangerous plains. After considering the hardships Louisa would be exposed to on the frontier, he reluctantly agreed. The two decided to become innkeepers at a hotel in the Salt Creek Valley. It was the same business his mother had o
perated at one time. The Codys named the establishment the Golden Rule House. Not only did the hotel welcome out-of-town guests, but William’s sisters Helen and Mary also occupied a room there. “I seemed to have the qualifications necessary to run a business,” William recalled later in his life, “but for a man who had lived my kind of life it proved a tame employment. I found myself sighing once more for the freedom of the plains.”14

  Aware of her husband’s longing, Louisa released William from his promise to settle in one place. After assuring her that he could provide for her working as a plainsman, he sold the hotel, moved his bride to Leavenworth, and traveled alone to Salina, Kansas. The Kansas Pacific Railroad was in the final stages of completion when William arrived. He planned to start his own freight service, transporting supplies to rail workers in remote areas. On his first venture out, the wagon was overrun by Indians. He escaped without injury, but his load and vehicle were lost in the attack.

  He walked to Junction City, where he hoped to find a job that would help him support his family and replace his property. While he was there, he met up with Bill Hickok, a scout he’d known from his army days. Hickok was employed as a sentinel with the U.S. government and suggested that William take a job doing the same work. William’s reputation, combined with Hickok’s recommendation, led to his being hired to scout the territory between Fort Ellsworth and Fort Fletcher.

  William wrote Louisa often during his travels. He shared with her stories about the terrain, the military posts, and the people he came in contact with, including General George Custer. He served as Custer’s guide from Fort Hays, Kansas, to Fort Larned. No direct trail linked the two posts, but William forged a path through the countryside. Custer was so impressed with Cody’s expertise that he promised to hire him on as a full-time scout should William ever need a job. “I think that was very nice of the general,” he wrote Louisa, “and I thanked him, telling him that I was a married man now and that I always would need a job to provide for my family.”15