Halfway in-between U.S. 54 and Toronto near the banks of Cedar Creek rests perhaps the oldest cemetery in Woodson County, with its first pioneer-era grave dating back to 1857.
Once called Pleasant Grove, it has been rechristened Cedar Bluff, due to the immense sandstone rock-face hiding behind it to the west.
At one time there were few trees in the area, and it was possible to look out over this vantage for miles across the Verdigris Valley.
In order to reach Cedar Bluff, I hitched a ride with locals Getty Tyner and Jessica Valentine. She smiles easily, gestures excitedly, and does most of the talking. He seems intensely focused on driving, but briefly interjects now and again, though his hushed and graveled voice is often difficult to understand.
The ash from their cigarettes slowly burns and takes flight as we approach the gate leading back into the pasture, and I wonder how the bouncing of the truck doesn?t spark a fire in the cab. Getty said he remembers when there were farms in these fields, both to the north and south of here. It?s clear his memory is deep, that he has ghosts of his own, and so is unsure of exactly what details to narrate.
Getting set ablaze, however, is not nearly as random and absurd a fate as that of the first person buried here. A young man by the last name of Foster, who?d been living at the Carlisle Branch settlement to the south of Toronto, was riding his horse up to Pleasant Grove when it happened.
The hand-carved sandstone is an example of the gravestones of early settlers in the Verdigris River Valley. REGISTER/TREVOR HOAG
Tearing through the cross-leafed post oaks on his mare at breakneck speed, he leaned one direction while his horse leaned the other, just in time to cause his head and face to strike a nearby tree. Dead. Just like that. I wonder if he?s watching us bounce along the dirt road. I wonder if he?s frustrated or simply bored.
Despite whatever audience might be present, we jump out and start to take a look. Most of the sandstone markers are worn and difficult to read, but that doesn?t dampen our spirits.
Jessica and I kneel at the grave of someone I have long been curious to meet. Julius Wilhite was born in 1797 and died in 1860, which makes his stone, a white marble slab, one of the very oldest in Woodson County. His relation, J.W., also buried here, was a member of C. Company, 10th Kansas Infantry, enlisting in 1864 when he was only 18 years old.
According to local legend, the younger Wilhite met his fate at the hands of vigilantes who claimed to deal out justice along the Verdigris River Valley. They?d accused him of stealing cattle, but others claim he?d simply come to learn too much about the group. ? Enough that he was less a danger to them dead.
Jessica smoothed Wilhite?s grave with her hand, revealing a tattoo of a bird on her arm. Her simple act makes it seem as though she?s reaching out to comfort him, telling him that it?s alright, that he didn?t deserve what happened to him. That he was innocent.
Less innocent, however, is another ghost of this place by the name of G.W. ?Wash? Petty, who was a sympathizer with the Southern Confederacy. His lieutenant was Robert Clark, perhaps the first white person to settle in the area along with his wife Mary Ann.
Given Petty?s political sentiments, it wasn?t long until trouble started brewing. Clark publicly accused Petty of conspiring to turn the company over to the rebels, which may not have been far from the truth as soon after Petty joined a group of Missouri Bushwhackers.
The dispute would have likely ended there, but when Petty returned to the Verdigris Valley years later, he found the elaborate tombstone of his dead wife defaced and ruined. White-hot with rage, he vowed revenge on the man he believed responsible, Robert Clark.
