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Apparently, it was difficult for the Pacific County Commissioners to keep a sheriff in office during the territorial times. The job was by appointment in those years and from Dec. 5, 1854, until statehood some 35 years later, 16 men served — several for less than 12 months.

Three of those territorial sheriffs resigned — no reason given, but as one was my great-grandfather R.H. Espy, I do have “insider information” about his departure from office. Apparently, the commissioners refused to supply him with a badge. They pointed out that his predecessors had made or purchased their own badges and he was expected to do likewise. That didn’t seem quite right to Major Espy and so he politely disentangled himself from his duties after serving (and presumably awaiting his badge of office) from Nov. 4, 1862 until Aug. 3, 1868. “Patient to a fault,” the family has always said.

But, of all the territorial sheriffs, Charles Green is best remembered — unfortunately for tragic, not heroic, reasons. In the fall of 1871, Sheriff Green was on his way to Oysterville from Unity (now known as Ilwaco.) When his riderless horse returned to the barn, the sheriff’s family was mystified. As the hours passed into days, weeks, and years, the mystery of that long-ago day has continued to deepen.

At the time of his disappearance in 1870, Sheriff Green (who also served as assessor) was engaged in routine tax-collecting throughout the county, then a part of the duties of that officer. He may have had on his person as much as $2,000, and foul play has always been suspected. He was last seen alive as he waved a cheery farewell to the family he is last known to have visited and told them: “I reckon I’ll put up with the Loomis folks tonight.” The hospitable Loomis home was a favorite stopping-over place on the Weather Beach… but he never arrived.

His probable route was charted for searchers, but diligent neighbors and friends could find no clues to the disappearance, though the trails and beach were thoroughly combed. It was thought by some that he became ill or injured and found a last snug shelter beneath a fallen tree; others thought his horse may have stumbled over driftwood and his body washed out to sea. Conjecture has never ceased.

Green, born in Stockholm, Sweden, was a man of 30 years when, on Feb. 15, 1860, he married 15-year-old Julia Ann Pickernell, lovely daughter of the John Edmonds Pickernells of the Wallicut. The ceremony was performed by Judge John Briscoe at the bride’s home. Four children were born to the couple.

Family members gradually resigned themselves to the obvious fact that husband and father would return no more. The children grew up, married, established homes of their own, and the widow eventually married William Russell. Sheriff Green’s disappearance remains a mystery.