Bishop Henry Giles, for whom Blue Valley's main settlement was named, lies burried there. He died a horrible death in November, 1892.

Bishop Giles was only 35 when his horse fell and he was caught in the saddle. His leg was broken. Gangrene set in. The people tried to save his life by riding to fetch an old, self-trained doctor who lived over a hundred miles away. The bishop's condition was critical when the "doctor" arrived and, with a carpenter saw from the shed and a butcher knife from the kitchen, amputated Giles' leg. There were no anesthetics, only a newspaper rolled into a kind of a megaphone for the bishop to "holler" into as a means of alleviating the pain.

The stricken man died within a few days.

There are other graves, many unmarked, in that pitiful little stormbeaten cemtery. Some headstones have been broken or tipped over by range cattle, and human vandals have desecrated other graves -- hauling off markers as souvenirs.