LETTERS OF 
 A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
THE WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
v LETTERS 
 OF A WOMAN 
 HOMESTEADER 
 
 BY 
 
 Elinore Pruitt Stewart 
 
 n 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 BY N. C. WYETH 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 <@bz mtoergitoe |&re#g Cambribge 
 
 1914 
 
F7 
 
 COPYRIGHT, I9I3 AND 1914, BY THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY CO. 
 COPYRIGHT, 1914, BY ELINORE PRUITT STEWART 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published May 1Q14 
 
 JUN-2L 
 
 ©CIA374282 
 
PUBLISHERS' NOTE 
 
 The writer of the following letters is a young 
 woman who lost her husband in a railroad 
 accident and went to Denver to seek support 
 for herself and her two-year-old daughter, 
 Jerrine. Turning her hand to the nearest 
 work, she went out by the day as house- 
 cleaner and laundress. Later, seeking to bet- 
 ter herself, she accepted employment as a 
 housekeeper for a well-to-do Scotch cattle- 
 man, Mr. Stewart, who had taken up a 
 quarter-section in Wyoming. The letters, 
 written through several years to a former 
 employer in Denver, tell the story of her new 
 life in the new country. They are genuine 
 letters, and are printed as written, except for 
 occasional omissions and the alteration of 
 some of the names. 
 
 4 Park St. 
 
 fl-/O80<f 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 I. The Arrival at Burnt Fork .... 3 
 
 II. Filing a Claim 7 
 
 III. A Busy, Happy Summer 15 
 
 IV. A Charming Adventure and Zebulon 
 
 Pike 23 
 
 V. Sedalia and Regalia 45 
 
 VI. A Thanksgiving-Day Wedding ... 54 
 VII. Zebulon Pike visits his Old Home . 60 
 
 VIII. A Happy Christmas < 64 
 
 IX. A Confession 77 
 
 X. The Story of Cora Belle 81 
 
 XI. Zebbie's Story 100 
 
 XII. A Contented Couple .117 
 
 XIII. Proving Up 133 
 
 XIV. The New House 137 
 
 XV. The "Stocking-Leg" Dinner . . .143 
 
 XVI. The Horse-Thieves 157 
 
 XVII. At Gavotte's Camp 180 
 
 vii 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 XVIII. The Homesteader's Marriage and a 
 
 Little Funeral ........ 184 
 
 XIX. The Adventure of the Christmas 
 
 Tree 193 
 
 XX. The Joys of Homesteading . . .213 
 
 XXI. A Letter of Jerrine's 218 
 
 XXII. The Efficient Mrs. O'Shaughnessy . 220 
 
 XXIII. How it Happened 225 
 
 XXIV. A Little Romance 230 
 
 XXV. Among the Mormons 256 
 
 XXVI. Success 279 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The Woman Homesteader Frontispiece 
 
 Jerrine was always such a Dear Little Pal 30 
 
 Zebulon Pike 112 
 
 The Stewart Cabin 138 
 
 Gavotte 180 
 
 Mrs. Louderer and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy . . 258 
 
LETTERS OF 
 A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
LETTERS OF 
 A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 I 
 
 THE ARRIVAL AT BURNT FORK 
 
 Burnt Fork, Wyoming, 
 April 1 8, 1909. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 Are you thinking I am lost, like the Babes 
 in the Wood? Well, I am not and I'm sure 
 the robins would have the time of their lives 
 getting leaves to cover me out here. I am 
 'way up close to the" Forest Reserve of Utah, 
 within half a mile of the line, sixty miles 
 from the railroad. I was twenty- four hours 
 on the train and two days on the stage, and 
 oh, those two days! The snow was just be- 
 ginning to melt and the mud was about the 
 worst I ever heard of. 
 
 The first stage we tackled was just about 
 3 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 as rickety as it could very well be and I had 
 to sit with the driver, who was a Mormon and 
 so handsome that I was not a bit offended 
 when he insisted on making love all the way, 
 especially after he told me that he was a 
 widower Mormon. But, of course, as I had 
 no chaperone I looked very fierce (not that 
 that was very difficult with the wind and 
 mud as allies) and told him my actual opin- 
 ion of Mormons in general and particular. 
 
 Meantime my new employer, Mr. Stewart, 
 sat upon a stack of baggage and was dread- 
 fully concerned about something he calls his 
 "Tookie," but I am unable to tell you what 
 that is. The road, being so muddy, was full 
 of ruts and the stage acted as if it had the 
 hiccoughs and made us all talk as though we 
 were affected in the same way. Once Mr. 
 Stewart asked me if I did not think it a "gey 
 duir trip." I told him he could call it gay if 
 he wanted to, but it did n't seem very hila- 
 rious to me. Every time the stage struck 
 a rock or a rut Mr. Stewart would "hoot," 
 4 
 
THE ARRIVAL AT BURNT FORK 
 
 until I began to wish we would come to a 
 hollow tree or a hole in the ground so he 
 could go in with the rest of the owls. 
 
 At last we "arriv," and everything is just 
 lovely for me. I have a very, very comfort- 
 able situation and Mr. Stewart is absolutely 
 no trouble, for as soon as he has his meals he 
 retires to his room and plays on his bagpipe, 
 only he calls it his "bugpeep." It is "The 
 Campbells are Coming," without variations, 
 at intervals all day long and from seven till 
 eleven at night. Sometimes I wish they 
 would make haste and get here. 
 
 There is a saddle horse especially for me 
 and a little shotgun with which I am to kill 
 sage chickens. We are between two trout 
 streams, so you can think of me as being 
 happy when the snow is through melting and 
 the water gets clear. We have the finest 
 flock of Plymouth Rocks and get so many 
 nice eggs. It sure seems fine to have all the 
 cream I want after my town experiences. 
 Jerrine is making good use of all the good 
 5 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 things we are having. She rides the pony to 
 water every day. 
 
 I have not filed on my land yet because the 
 snow is fifteen feet deep on it, and I think 
 I would rather see what I am getting, so will 
 wait until summer. They have just three sea- 
 sons here, winter and July and August. We 
 are to plant our garden the last of May. 
 When it is so I can get around I will see about 
 land and find out all I can and tell you. 
 
 I think this letter is about to reach thirty- 
 secondly, so I will send you my sincerest love 
 and quit tiring you. Please write me when 
 you have time. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 
II 
 
 FILING A CLAIM 
 
 May 24, 1909. 
 
 Dear, dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 Well, I have filed on my land and am 
 now a bloated landowner. I waited a long 
 time to even see land in the reserve, and the 
 snow is yet too deep, so I thought that as 
 they have but three months of summer and 
 spring together and as I wanted the land for 
 a ranch anyway, perhaps I had better stay 
 in the valley. So I have filed adjoining Mr. 
 Stewart and I am well pleased. I have a 
 grove of twelve swamp pines on my place, 
 and I am going to build my house there. I 
 thought it would be very romantic to live on 
 the peaks amid the whispering pines, but I 
 reckon it would be powerfully uncomfortable 
 also, and I guess my twelve can whisper 
 enough for me; and a dandy thing is, I have 
 all the nice snow-water I want; a small 
 7 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 stream runs right through the center of my 
 land and I am quite near wood. 
 
 A neighbor and his daughter were going 
 to Green River, the county-seat, and said I 
 might go along, so I did, as I could file there 
 as well as at the land office; and oh, that 
 trip ! I had more fun to the square inch than 
 Mark Twain or Samantha Allen ever pro- 
 voked. It took us a whole week to go and 
 come. We camped out, of course, for in the 
 whole sixty miles there was but one house, 
 and going in that direction there is not a tree 
 to be seen, nothing but sage, sand, and sheep. 
 About noon the first day out we came near a 
 sheep- wagon, and stalking along ahead of us 
 was a lanky fellow, a herder, going home for 
 dinner. Suddenly it seemed to me I should 
 starve if I had to wait until we got where we 
 had planned to stop for dinner, so I called 
 out to the man, "Little Bo-Peep, have you 
 anything to eat? If you have, we'd like to 
 find it." And he answered, "As soon as I am 
 able it shall be on the table, if you'll but 
 8 
 
FILING A CLAIM 
 
 trouble to get behind it." Shades of Shake- 
 speare! Songs of David, the Shepherd Poet! 
 What do you think of us? Well, we got be- 
 hind it, and a more delicious ''it" I never 
 tasted. Such coffee! And out of such a pot ! I 
 promised Bo- Peep that I would send him a 
 crook with pink ribbons on it, but I suspect 
 he thinks I am a crook without the ribbons. 
 The sagebrush is so short in some places 
 that it is not large enough to make a fire, so 
 we had to drive until quite late before we 
 camped that night. After driving all day 
 over what seemed a level desert of sand, we 
 came about sundown to a beautiful canon, 
 down which we had to drive for a couple of 
 miles before we could cross. In the canon the 
 shadows had already fallen, but when we 
 looked up we could see the last shafts of sun- 
 light on the tops of the great bare buttes. 
 Suddenly a great wolf started from some- 
 where and galloped along the edge of the 
 canon, outlined black and clear by the set- 
 ting sun. His curiosity overcame him at last, 
 9 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 so he sat down and waited to see what man- 
 ner of beast we were. I reckon he was dis- 
 appointed for he howled most dismally. I 
 thought of Jack London's "The Wolf." 
 
 After we quitted the canon I saw the most 
 beautiful sight. It seemed as if we were driv- 
 ing through a golden haze. The violet shad- 
 ows were creeping up between the hills, while 
 away back of us the snow-capped peaks were 
 catching the sun's last rays. On every side 
 of us stretched the poor, hopeless desert, the 
 sage, grim and determined to live in spite 
 of starvation, and the great, bare, desolate 
 buttes. The beautiful colors turned to amber 
 and rose, and then to the general tone, dull 
 gray. Then we stopped to camp, and such a 
 scurrying around to gather brush for the fire 
 and to get supper ! Everything tasted so good ! 
 Jerrine ate like a man. Then we raised the 
 wagon tongue and spread the wagon sheet 
 over it and made a bedroom for us women. 
 We made our beds on the warm, soft sand 
 and went to bed. 
 
 10 
 
FILING A CLAIM 
 
 It was too beautiful a night to sleep, so I 
 put my head out to look and to think. I saw 
 the moon come up and hang for a while over 
 the mountain as if it were discouraged with 
 the prospect, and the big white stars flirted 
 shamelessly with the hills. I saw a coyote 
 come trotting along and I felt sorry for him, 
 having to hunt food in so barren a place, but 
 when presently I heard the whirr of wings I 
 felt sorry for the sage chickens he had dis- 
 turbed. At length a cloud came up and I 
 went to sleep, and next morning was covered 
 several inches with snow. It did n't hurt us a 
 bit, but while I was struggling with stubborn 
 corsets and shoes I communed with myself, 
 after the manner of prodigals, and said: 
 "How much better that I were down in Den- 
 ver, even at Mrs. Coney's, digging with a 
 skewer into the corners seeking dirt which 
 might be there, yea, even eating codfish, than 
 that I should perish on this desert — of im- 
 agination." So I turned the current of my 
 imagination and fancied that I was at home 
 II 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 before the fireplace, and that the backlog 
 was about to roll down. My fancy was in 
 such good working trim that before I knew it 
 I kicked the wagon wheel, and I certainly got 
 as warm as the most "sot" Scientist that 
 ever read Mrs. Eddy could possibly wish. 
 
 After two more such days I "arrived." 
 When I went up to the office where I was to 
 file, the door was open and the most taciturn 
 old man sat before a desk. I hesitated at the 
 door, but he never let on. I coughed, yet no 
 sign but a deeper scowl. I stepped in and 
 modestly kicked over a chair. He whirled 
 around like I had shot him. "Well?" he in- 
 terrogated. I said, " I am powerful glad of it. 
 I was afraid you were sick, you looked in 
 such pain." He looked at me a minute, then 
 grinned and said he thought I was a book- 
 agent. Fancy me, a fat, comfortable widow, 
 trying to sell books! 
 
 Well, I filed and came home. If you will 
 believe me, the Scot was glad to see me and 
 did n't herald the Campbells for two hours 
 12 
 
FILING A CLAIM 
 
 after I got home. I '11 tell you, it is mighty 
 seldom any one's so much appreciated. 
 
 No, we have no rural delivery. It is two 
 miles to the office, but I go whenever I like. 
 It is really the jolliest kind of fun to gallop 
 down. We are sixty miles from the railroad, 
 but when we want anything we send by the 
 mail-carrier for it, only there is nothing to 
 get. 
 
 I know this is an inexcusably long letter, 
 but it is snowing so hard and you know how I 
 like to talk. I am sure Jerrine will enjoy the 
 cards and we will be glad to get them. Many 
 things that are a comfort to us out here came 
 
 from dear Mrs. . Baby has the rabbit 
 
 you gave her last Easter a year ago. In Den- 
 ver I was afraid my baby would grow up 
 devoid of imagination. Like all the kinder- 
 gartners, she depended upon others to amuse 
 her. I was very sorry about it, for my castles 
 in Spain have been real homes to me. But 
 there is no fear. She has a block of wood she 
 found in the blacksmith shop which she calls 
 13 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 her "dear baby." A spoke out of a wagon 
 wheel is "little Margaret," and a barrel- 
 stave is "bad little Johnny." 
 
 Well, I must quit writing before you vote 
 me a nuisance. With lots of love to you, 
 Your sincere friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 
Ill 
 
 A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 
 
 September II, 1909. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 This has been for me the busiest, happiest 
 summer I can remember. I have worked 
 very hard, but it has been work that I really 
 enjoy. Help of any kind is very hard to get 
 here, and Mr. Stewart had been too confident 
 of getting men, so that haying caught him 
 with too few men to put up the hay. He had 
 no man to run the mower and he could n't 
 run both the mower and the stacker, so you 
 can fancy what a place he was in. 
 
 I don't know that I ever told you, but my 
 parents died within a year of each other and 
 left six of us to shift for ourselves. Our people 
 offered to take one here and there among 
 them until we should all have a place, but 
 we refused to be raised on the halves and so 
 15 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 arranged to stay at Grandmother's and keep 
 together. Well, we had no money to hire men 
 to do our work, so had to learn to do it our- 
 selves. Consequently I learned to do many 
 things which girls more fortunately situated 
 don't even know have to be done. Among 
 the things I learned to do was the way to run 
 a mowing-machine. It cost me many bitter 
 tears because I got sunburned, and my hands 
 were hard, rough, and stained with machine 
 oil, and I used to wonder how any Prince 
 Charming could overlook all that in any girl 
 he came to. For all I had ever read of the 
 Prince had to do with his "reverently kissing 
 her lily-white hand," or doing some other fool 
 trick with a hand as white as a snowflake. 
 Well, when my Prince showed up he did n't 
 lose much time in letting me know that 
 "Barkis was willing," and I wrapped my 
 hands in my old checked apron and took him 
 up before he could catch his breath. Then 
 there was no more mowing, and I almost for- 
 got that I knew how until Mr. Stewart got 
 16 
 
A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 
 
 into such a panic. If he put a man to mow, it 
 kept them all idle at the stacker, and he just 
 could n't get enough men. I was afraid to 
 tell him I could mow for fear he would forbid 
 me to do so. But one morning, when he was 
 chasing a last hope of help, I went down to 
 the barn, took out the horses, and went to 
 mowing. I had enough cut before he got 
 back to show him I knew how, and as he 
 came back manless he was delighted as well 
 as surprised. I was glad because I really like 
 to mow, and besides that, I am adding feath- 
 ers to my cap in a surprising way. When you 
 see me again you will think I am wearing a 
 feather duster, but it is only that I have been 
 said to have almost as much sense as a 
 "mon," and that is an honor I never aspired 
 to, even in my wildest dreams. 
 
 I have done most of my cooking at night, 
 have milked seven cows every day, and have 
 done all the hay-cutting, so you see I have 
 been working. But I have found time to put 
 up thirty pints of jelly and the same amount 
 17 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 of jam for myself. I used wild fruits, goose- 
 berries, currants, raspberries, and cherries. I 
 have almost two gallons of the cherry butter, 
 and I think it is delicious. I wish I could get 
 some of it to you, I am sure you would like it. 
 We began haying July 5 and finished Sep- 
 tember 8. After working so hard and so 
 steadily I decided on a day off, so yester- 
 day I saddled the pony, took a few things I 
 needed, and Jerrine and I fared forth. Baby 
 can ride behind quite well. We got away by 
 sunup and a glorious day we had. We fol- 
 lowed a stream higher up into the mountains 
 and the air was so keen and clear at first 
 we had on our coats. There was a tang of 
 sage and of pine in the air, and our horse was 
 midside deep in rabbit-brush, a shrub just 
 covered with flowers that look and smell 
 like goldenrod. The blue distance promised 
 many alluring adventures, so we went along 
 singing and simply gulping in summer. Occa- 
 sionally a bunch of sage chickens would fly 
 up out of the sagebrush, or a jack rabbit 
 18 
 
A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 
 
 would leap out. Once we saw a bunch of 
 antelope gallop over a hill, but we were out 
 just to be out, and game did n't tempt us. I 
 started, though, to have just as good a time as 
 possible, so I had a fish-hook in my knapsack. 
 
 Presently, about noon, we came to a little 
 dell where the grass was as soft and as green 
 as a lawn. The creek kept right up against 
 the hills on one side and there were groves 
 of quaking asp and cottonwoods that made 
 shade, and service-bushes and birches that 
 shut off the ugly hills on the other side. We 
 dismounted and prepared to noon. We 
 caught a few grasshoppers and I cut a birch 
 pole for a rod. The trout are so beautiful now, 
 their sides are so silvery, with dashes of old 
 rose and orange, their speckles are so black, 
 while their backs look as if they had been 
 sprinkled with gold-dust. They bite so well 
 that it does n't require any especial skill or 
 tackle to catch plenty for a meal in a few 
 minutes. 
 
 In a little while I went back to where I had 
 19 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 left my pony browsing, with eight beauties. 
 We made a fire first, then I dressed my trout 
 while it was burning down to a nice bed of 
 coals. I had brought a frying-pan and a 
 bottle of lard, salt, and buttered bread. We 
 gathered a few service-berries, our trout were 
 soon browned, and with water, clear, and as 
 cold as ice, we had a feast. The quaking 
 aspens are beginning to turn yellow, but no 
 leaves have fallen. Their shadows dimpled 
 and twinkled over the grass like happy chil- 
 dren. The sound of the dashing, roaring 
 water kept inviting me to cast for trout, but 
 I did n't want to carry them so far, so we 
 rested until the sun was getting low and then 
 started for home, with the song of the locusts 
 in our ears warning us that the melancholy 
 days are almost here. We would come up 
 over the top of a hill into the glory of a 
 beautiful sunset with its gorgeous colors, 
 then down into the little valley already pur- 
 pling with mysterious twilight. So on, until, 
 just at dark, we rode into our corral and a 
 20 
 
A BUSY, HAPPY SUMMER 
 
 mighty tired, sleepy little girl was powerfully 
 glad to get home. 
 
 After I had mailed my other letter I was 
 afraid that you would think me plumb bold 
 about the little Bo- Peep, and was a heap 
 sorrier than you can think. If you only knew 
 the hardships these poor men endure. They 
 go two together and sometimes it is months 
 before they see another soul, and rarely ever 
 a woman. I would n't act so free in town, but 
 these men see people so seldom that they are 
 awkward and embarrassed. I like to put 
 them at ease, and it is to be done only by 
 being kind of hail-fellow-well-met with them. 
 So far not one has ever misunderstood me 
 and I have been treated with every courtesy 
 and kindness, so I am powerfully glad you 
 understand. They really enjoy doing these 
 little things like fixing our dinner, and if my 
 poor company can add to any one's pleasure 
 I am too glad. 
 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 21 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Mr. Stewart is going to put up my house 
 for me in pay for my extra work. 
 
 I am ashamed of my long letters to you, 
 but I am such a murderer of language that I 
 have to use it all to tell anything. 
 
 Please don't entirely forget me. Your 
 letters mean so much to me and I will try to 
 answer more promptly. 
 
IV 
 
 A CHARMING ADVENTURE AND ZEBULON PIKE 
 
 September 28, 1909. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 Your second card just reached me and I 
 am plumb glad because, although I answered 
 your other, I was wishing I could write you, 
 for I have had the most charming adventure. 
 
 It is the custom here for as many women 
 as care to to go in a party over into Utah to 
 Ashland (which is over a hundred miles away) 
 after fruit. They usually go in September, 
 and it takes a week to make the trip. They 
 take wagons and camp out and of course 
 have a good time, but, the greater part of the 
 way, there is n't even the semblance of a road 
 and it is merely a semblance anywhere. They 
 came over to invite me to join them. I was of 
 two minds — I wanted to go, but it seemed 
 a little risky and a big chance for discomfort, 
 23 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 since we would have to cross the Uinta 
 Mountains, and a snowstorm likely any 
 time. But I did n't like to refuse outright, so 
 we left it to Mr. Stewart. His "Ye 're nae 
 gang" sounded powerful final, so the ladies 
 departed in awed silence and I assumed a 
 martyr-like air and acted like a very much 
 abused woman, although he did only what I 
 wanted him to do. At last, in sheer despera- 
 tion he told me the " bairn canna stand the 
 treep," and that was why he was so deter- 
 mined. I knew why, of course, but I con- 
 tinued to look abused lest he gets it into his 
 head that he can boss me. After he had been 
 reduced to the proper plane of humility and 
 had explained and begged my pardon and 
 had told me to consult only my own pleasure 
 about going and coming and using his horses, 
 only not to "expoose" the bairn, why, I for- 
 gave him and we were friends once more. 
 
 Next day all the men left for the round- 
 up, to be gone a week. I knew I never could 
 stand myself a whole week. In a little while 
 24 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 the ladies came past on their way to Ashland. 
 They were all laughing and were so happy 
 that I really began to wish I was one of the 
 number, but they went their way and I kept 
 wanting to go somewhere. I got reckless and 
 determined to do something real bad. So I 
 went down to the barn and saddled Robin 
 Adair, placed a pack on " Jeems McGregor," 
 then Jerrine and I left for a camping-out 
 expedition. 
 
 It was nine o'clock when we started and 
 we rode hard until about four, when I turned 
 Robin loose, saddle and all, for I knew he 
 would go home and some one would see him 
 and put him into the pasture. We had gotten 
 to where we could n't ride anyway, so I put 
 Jerrine on the pack and led "Jeems" for 
 about two hours longer; then, as I had come 
 to a good place to camp, we stopped. 
 
 While we had at least two good hours of 
 
 daylight, it gets so cold here in the evening 
 
 that fire is very necessary. We had been 
 
 climbing higher into the mountains all day 
 
 25 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 and had reached a level tableland where the 
 grass was luxuriant and there was plenty of 
 wood and water. I unpacked "Jeems" and 
 staked him out, built a roaring fire, and made 
 our bed in an angle of a sheer wall of rock 
 where we would be protected against the 
 wind. Then I put some potatoes into the 
 embers, as Baby and I are both fond of 
 roasted potatoes. I started to a little spring 
 to get water for my coffee when I saw a 
 couple of jack rabbits playing, so I went 
 back for my little shotgun. I shot one of the 
 rabbits, so I felt very like Leather-stocking 
 because I had killed but one when I might 
 have gotten two. It was fat and young, and 
 it was but the work of a moment to dress it 
 and hang it up on a tree. Then I fried some 
 slices of bacon, made myself a cup of coffee, 
 and Jerrine and I sat on the ground and ate. 
 Everything smelled and tasted so good ! This 
 air is so tonic that one gets delightfully 
 hungry. Afterward we watered and restaked 
 "Jeems," I rolled some logs on to the fire, 
 26 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 and then we sat and enjoyed the pros- 
 pect. 
 
 The moon was so new that its light was 
 very dim, but the stars were bright. Pres- 
 ently a long, quivering wail arose and was 
 answered from a dozen hills. It seemed just 
 the sound one ought to hear in such a place. 
 When the howls ceased for a moment we 
 could hear the subdued roar of the creek and 
 the crooning of the wind in the pines. So we 
 rather enjoyed the coyote chorus and were 
 not afraid, because they don't attack people. 
 Presently we crept under our Navajos and, 
 being tired, were soon asleep. 
 
 I was awakened by a pebble striking my 
 cheek. Something prowling on the bluff 
 above us had dislodged it and it struck me. 
 By my Waterbury it was four o'clock, so I 
 arose and spitted my rabbit. The logs had 
 left a big bed of coals, but some ends were 
 still burning and had burned in such a man- 
 ner that the heat would go both under and 
 over my rabbit. So I put plenty of bacon 
 27 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 grease over him and hung him up to roast. 
 Then I went back to bed. I did n't want to 
 start early because the air is too keen for 
 comfort early in the morning. 
 
 The sun was just gilding the hilltops when 
 we arose. Everything, even the barrenness, 
 was beautiful. We have had frosts, and the 
 quaking aspens were a trembling field of gold 
 as far up the stream as we could see. We 
 were 'way up above them and could look far 
 across the valley. We could see the silvery 
 gold of the willows, the russet and bronze of 
 the currants, and patches of cheerful green 
 showed where the pines were. The splendor 
 was relieved by a background of sober gray- 
 green hills, but even on them gay streaks 
 and patches of yellow showed where rabbit- 
 brush grew. We washed our faces at the 
 spring, — the grasses that grew around the 
 edge and dipped into the water were loaded 
 with ice, — our rabbit was done to a turn, 
 so I made some delicious coffee, Jerrine got 
 herself a can of water, and we breakfasted. 
 28 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 Shortly afterwards we started again. We 
 did n't know where we were going, but we 
 were on our way. 
 
 That day was more toilsome than the last, 
 but a very happy one. The meadowlarks 
 kept singing like they were glad to see us. 
 But we were still climbing and soon got be- 
 yond the larks and sage chickens and up into 
 the timber, where there are lots of grouse. 
 We stopped to noon by a little lake, where I 
 got two small squirrels and a string of trout. 
 We had some trout for dinner and salted the 
 rest with the squirrels in an empty can for 
 future use. I was anxious to get a grouse and 
 kept close watch, but was never quick enough. 
 Our progress was now slower and more diffi- 
 cult, because in places we could scarcely get 
 through the forest. Fallen trees were every- 
 where and we had to avoid the branches, 
 which was powerful hard to do. Besides, it 
 was quite dusky among the trees long before 
 night, but it was all so grand and awe- 
 inspiring. Occasionally there was an opening 
 29 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 through which we could see the snowy peaks, 
 seemingly just beyond us, toward which we 
 were headed. But when you get among such 
 grandeur you get to feel how little you are 
 and how foolish is human endeavor, except 
 that which reunites us with the mighty force 
 called God. I was plumb uncomfortable, 
 because all my own efforts have always been 
 just to make the best of everything and to 
 take things as they come. 
 
 At last we came to an open side of the 
 mountain where the trees were scattered. 
 We were facing south and east, and the moun- 
 tain we were on sheered away in a dangerous 
 slant. Beyond us still greater wooded moun- 
 tains blocked the way, and in the canon 
 between night had already fallen. I began to 
 get scary. I could only think of bears and 
 catamounts, so, as it was five o'clock, we 
 decided to camp. The trees were immense. 
 The lower branches came clear to the ground 
 and grew so dense that any tree afforded a 
 splendid shelter from the weather, but I was 
 30 
 
JERRINE WAS ALWAYS SUCH A DEAR LITTLE PAL 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 nervous and wanted one that would protect 
 us against any possible attack. At last 
 we found one growing in a crevice of what 
 seemed to be a sheer wall of rock. Nothing 
 could reach us on two sides, and in front two 
 large trees had fallen so that I could make a 
 log heap which would give us warmth and 
 make us safe. So with rising spirits I un- 
 packed and prepared for the night. I soon 
 had a roaring fire up against the logs and, 
 cutting away a few branches, let the heat 
 into as snug a bedroom as any one could wish. 
 The pine needles made as soft a carpet as 
 the wealthiest could afford. Springs abound 
 in the mountains, so water was plenty. I 
 staked "Jeems" quite near so that the fire- 
 light would frighten away any wild thing 
 that tried to harm him. Grass was very 
 plentiful, so when he was made "comfy" I 
 made our bed and fried our trout. The 
 branches had torn off the bag in which I 
 had my bread, so it was lost in the forest, 
 but who needs bread when they have good, 
 31 
 

 A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 mealy potatoes? In a short time we were 
 eating like Lent was just over. We lost all 
 the glory of the sunset except what we got by 
 reflection, being on the side of the mountain 
 we were, with the dense woods between. Big 
 sullen clouds kept drifting over and a wind 
 got lost in the trees that kept them rocking 
 and groaning in a horrid way. But we were 
 just as cozy as we could be and rest was as 
 good as anything. 
 
 I wish you could once sleep on the kind of 
 bed we enjoyed that night. It was both soft 
 and firm, with the clean, spicy smell of the 
 pine. The heat from our big fire came in and 
 we were warm as toast. It was so good to 
 stretch out and rest. I kept thinking how 
 superior I was since I dared to take such an 
 outing when so many poor women down in 
 Denver were bent on making their twenty 
 cents per hour in order that they could spare a 
 quarter to go to the " show." I went to sleep 
 with a powerfully self-satisfied feeling, but I 
 awoke to realize that pride goeth before a fall. 
 32 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 I could hardly remember where I was when 
 I awoke, and I could almost hear the silence. 
 Not a tree moaned, not a branch seemed to 
 stir. I arose and my head came in violent 
 contact with a snag that was not there when 
 I went to bed. I thought either I must have 
 grown taller or the tree shorter during the 
 night. As soon as I peered out, the mystery 
 was explained. 
 
 Such a snowstorm I never saw! The snow 
 had pressed the branches down lower, hence 
 my bumped head. Our fire was burning 
 merrily and the heat kept the snow from in 
 front. I scrambled out and poked up the fire; 
 then, as it was only five o'clock, I went back 
 to bed. And then I began to think how many 
 kinds of idiot I was. Here I was thirty or 
 forty miles from home, in the mountains 
 where no one goes in the winter and where I 
 knew the snow got to be ten or fifteen feet 
 deep. But I could never see the good of mop- 
 ing, so I got up and got breakfast while Baby 
 put her shoes on. We had our squirrels and 
 33 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 more baked potatoes and I had delicious 
 black coffee. 
 
 After I had eaten I felt more hopeful. I 
 knew Mr. Stewart would hunt for me if he 
 knew I was lost. It was true, he would n't 
 know which way to start, but I determined 
 to rig up " Jeems" and turn him loose, for I 
 knew he would go home and that he would 
 leave a trail so that I could be found. I 
 hated to do so, for I knew I should always 
 have to be powerfully humble afterwards. 
 Anyway it was still snowing, great, heavy 
 flakes; they looked as large as dollars. I 
 did n't want to start "Jeems" until the snow 
 stopped because I wanted him to leave a 
 clear trail. I had sixteen loads for my gun 
 and I reasoned that I could likely kill enough 
 food to last twice that many days by being 
 careful what I shot at. It just kept snowing, 
 so at last I decided to take a little hunt and 
 provide for the day. I left Jerrine happy 
 with the towel rolled into a baby, and went 
 along the brow of the mountain for almost 
 34 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 a mile, but the snow fell so thickly that I 
 could n't see far. Then I happened to look 
 down into the canon that lay east of us and 
 saw smoke. I looked toward it a long time, 
 but could make out nothing but smoke, but 
 presently I heard a dog bark and I knew I 
 was near a camp of some kind. I resolved to 
 join them, so went back to break my own 
 camp. 
 
 At last everything was ready and Jerrine 
 and I both mounted. Of all the times! If 
 you think there is much comfort, or even 
 security, in riding a pack-horse in a snow- 
 storm over mountains where there is no road, 
 you are plumb wrong. Every once in a while 
 a tree would unload its snow down our backs. 
 " Jeems" kept stumbling and threatening to 
 break our necks. At last we got down the 
 mountain-side, where new danger confronted 
 us, — we might lose sight of the smoke or 
 ride into a bog. But at last, after what 
 seemed hours, we came into a "clearing" 
 with a small log house and, what is rare in 
 35 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Wyoming, a fireplace. Three or four hounds 
 set up their deep baying, and I knew by 
 the chimney and the hounds that it was the 
 home of a Southerner. A little old man came 
 bustling out, chewing his tobacco so fast, and 
 almost frantic about his suspenders, which it 
 seemed he could n't get adjusted. 
 
 As I rode up, he said, " Whither, friend?" 
 I said ''Hither." Then he asked, "Air you 
 spying around for one of them dinged game 
 wardens arter that deer I killed yisteddy?" 
 I told him I had never even seen a game 
 warden and that I did n't know he had killed 
 a deer. "Wall," he said, "air you spying 
 around arter that gold mine I diskivered 
 over on the west side of Baldy?" But after 
 a while I convinced him that I was no more 
 nor less than a foolish woman lost in the 
 snow. Then he said, "Light, stranger, and 
 look at your saddle." So I "lit" and looked, 
 and then I asked him what part of the South 
 he was from. He answered, "Yell County, 
 by gum ! The best place in the United States, 
 
 36 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 cr ~n the world, either/' That was my intro- 
 duction to Zebulon Pike Parker. 
 
 Only two "Johnny Rebs" could have 
 enjoyed each other's company as Zebulon 
 Pike and myself did. He was so small and 
 so old, but so cheerful and so sprightly, and 
 a real Southerner! He had a big, open fire- 
 place with backlogs and andirons. How I 
 enjoyed it all ! How we feasted on some of the 
 deer killed "yisteddy," and real corn-pone 
 baked in a skillet down on the hearth. He 
 was so full of happy recollections and had a 
 few that were not so happy! He is, in some 
 way, a kinsman of Pike of Pike's Peak fame, 
 and he came west "jist arter the wah" on 
 some expedition and "jist stayed." He told 
 me about his home life back in Yell County, 
 and I feel that I know all the "young 
 uns." 
 
 There was George Henry, his only brother ; 
 
 and there were Phoebe and " Mothie," whose 
 
 real name is Martha; and poor little Mary 
 
 Ann, whose death was described so feelingly 
 
 37 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 that no one could keep back the tears. Lastly 
 there was little Mandy, the baby and his 
 favorite, but who, I am afraid, was a selfish 
 little beast since she had to have her pru- 
 nellas when all the rest of the ''young uns" 
 had to wear shoes that old Uncle Buck made 
 out of rawhide. But then ' ' her eyes were blue 
 as morning-glories and her hair was jist like 
 corn-silk, so yaller and fluffy." Bless his 
 simple, honest heart! His own eyes are blue 
 and kind, and his poor, thin little shoulders 
 are so round that they almost meet in front. 
 How he loved to talk of his boyhood days) 
 I can almost see his father and George Henry 
 as they marched away to the "wah" to- 
 gether, and the poor little mother's despair 
 as she waited day after day for some word, 
 that never came. 
 
 Poor little Mary Ann was drowned in the 
 bayou, where she was trying to get water- 
 lilies. She had wanted a white dress all 
 her life and so, when she was dead, they 
 took down the white cross-bar curtains and 
 38 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 Mother made the little shroud by the light 
 of a tallow dip. But, being made by hand, 
 it took all the next day, too, so that they 
 buried her by moonlight down back of the 
 orchard under the big elm where the children 
 had always had their swing. And they lined 
 and covered her grave with big, fragrant 
 water-lilies. As they lowered the poor little 
 home-made coffin into the grave the mock- 
 ingbirds began to sing and they sang all 
 that dewy, moonlight night. Then little 
 Mandy's wedding to Judge Carter's son Jim 
 was described. She wore a "cream-colored 
 poplin with a red rose thro wed up in it," 
 and the lace that was on Grandma's wed- 
 ding dress. There were bowers of sweet 
 Southern roses and honeysuckle and wis- 
 taria. Don't you know she was a dainty 
 bride? 
 
 At last it came out that he had not heard 
 
 from home since he left it. " Don't you ever 
 
 write?" I asked. "No, I am not an eddi- 
 
 cated man, although I started to school. 
 
 39 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Yes'm, I started along of the rest, but they 
 told me it was a Yankee teacher and I was 
 'fraid, so when I got most to the schoolhouse 
 I hid in the bushes with my spelling-book, so 
 that is all the learning I ever got. But my 
 mother was an eddicated woman, yes'm, she 
 could both read and write. I have the Bible 
 she give me yit. Yes'm, you jist wait and 
 I'll show you." After some rummaging in 
 a box he came back with a small leather- 
 bound Bible with print so small it was hard 
 to read. After turning to the record of births 
 and deaths he handed it to me, his wrinkled 
 old face shining with pride as he said, "There, 
 my mother wrote that with her own hand." 
 I took the book and after a little deciphered 
 that "Zebulon Pike Parker was born Feb. 
 io, 1830," written in the stiff, difficult style 
 of long ago and written with pokeberry ink. 
 He said his mother used to read about some 
 "old feller that was jist covered with biles," 
 so I read Job to him, and he was full of sur- 
 prise they did n't "git some cherry bark and 
 40 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 some sasparilly and bile it good and gin it to 
 him." 
 
 He had a side room to his cabin, which was 
 his bedroom; so that night he spread down 
 a buffalo robe and two bearskins before 
 the fire for Jerrine and me. After making 
 sure there were no moths in them, I spread 
 blankets over them and put a sleepy, happy 
 little girl to bed, for he had insisted on mak- 
 ing molasses candy for her because they hap- 
 pened to be born on the same day of the 
 month. And then he played the fiddle until 
 almost one o'clock. He played all the simple, 
 sweet, old-time pieces, in rather a squeaky, 
 jerky way, I am afraid, but the music suited 
 the time and the place. 
 
 Next morning he called me early and when 
 I went out I saw such a beautiful sunrise, 
 well worth the effort of coming to see. I had 
 thought his cabin in a canon, but the snow 
 had deceived me, for a few steps from the 
 door the mountains seemed to drop down 
 suddenly for several hundred feet and the 
 4i 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 first of the snow peaks seemed to lie right at 
 our feet. Around its base is a great swamp, 
 in which the swamp pines grow very thickly 
 and from which a vapor was rising that got 
 about halfway up the snow peak all around. 
 Fancy to yourself a big jewel-box of dark 
 green velvet lined with silver chiffon, the 
 snow peak lying like an immense opal in its 
 center and over all the amber light of a new 
 day. That is what it looked most like. 
 
 Well, we next went to the corral, where I 
 was surprised to find about thirty head of 
 sheep. Some of them looked like they should 
 have been sold ten years before. "Don't 
 you ever sell any of your sheep?" I asked. 
 "No'm. There was a feller come here once 
 and wanted to buy some of my wethers, but 
 I would n't sell any because I did n't need 
 any money." Then he went from animal to 
 animal, caressing each and talking to them, 
 calling them each by name. He milked his 
 one cow, fed his two little mules, and then 
 we went back to the house to cook breakfast. 
 42 
 
A CHARMING ADVENTURE 
 
 We had delicious venison steak, smoking 
 hot, and hoe-cakes and the "bestest" coffee, 
 and honey. 
 
 After breakfast we set out for home. Our 
 pack transferred to one of the little mules, 
 we rode "Jeems," and Mr. Parker rode the 
 other mule. He took us another way, down 
 canon after canon, so that we were able to 
 ride all the time and could make better 
 speed. We came down out of the snow and 
 camped within twelve miles of home in an 
 old, deserted ranch house. We had grouse 
 and sage chicken for supper. I was so anx- 
 ious to get home that I could hardly sleep, 
 but at last I did and was only awakened by 
 the odor of coffee, and barely had time to 
 wash before Zebulon Pike called breakfast. 
 Afterwards we fixed " Jeems's" pack so that 
 I could still ride, for Zebulon Pike was very 
 anxious to get back to his "critters." 
 
 Poor, lonely, childlike little man! He 
 tried to tell me how glad he had been to 
 entertain me. "Why," he said, "I was 
 43 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 plumb glad to see you and right sorry to have 
 you go. Why, I would jist as soon talk to 
 you as to a nigger. Yes'm, I would. It has 
 been almost as good as talking to old Aunt 
 Dilsey. ,, If a Yankee had said the same to 
 me I would have demanded instant apology, 
 but I know how the Southern heart longs for 
 the dear, kindly old "niggers," so I came on 
 homeward, thankful for the first time that I 
 can't talk correctly. 
 
 I got home at twelve and found, to my joy, 
 that none of the men had returned, so I 
 am safe from their superiority for a while, at 
 least. 
 
 With many apologies for this outrageous 
 letter, I am 
 
 Your ex-Washlady, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 
V 
 
 SEDALIA AND REGALIA 
 
 November 22, 1909. 
 
 My dear Friend, — 
 
 I was dreadfully afraid that my last letter 
 was too much for you and now I feel plumb 
 guilty. I really don't know how to write you, 
 for I have to write so much to say so little, 
 and now that my last letter made you sick I 
 almost wish so many things did n't happen 
 to me, for I always want to tell you. Many 
 things have happened since I last wrote, and 
 Zebulon Pike is not done for by any means, 
 but I guess I will tell you my newest experi- 
 ence. 
 
 I am making a wedding dress. Don't grin; 
 it isn't mine, — worse luck! But I must 
 begin at the beginning. Just after I wrote 
 you before, there came a terrific storm which 
 made me appreciate indoor coziness, but as 
 45 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 only Baby and I were at home I expected to 
 be very lonely. The snow was just whirling 
 when I saw some one pass the window. I 
 opened the door and in came the dumpiest 
 little woman and two daughters. She asked 
 me if I was "Mis' Rupit." I told her that 
 she had almost guessed it, and then she in- 
 troduced herself. She said she was "Mis' 
 Lane," that she had heard there was a new 
 stranger in the country, so she had brought 
 her twin girls, Sedalia and Regalia, to be 
 neighborly. While they were taking off their 
 many coats and wraps it came out that they 
 were from Linwood, thirty miles away. I was 
 powerful glad I had a pot roast and some 
 baked beans. 
 
 After we had put the horses in the barn 
 we had dinner and I heard the story of the 
 girls' odd names. The mother is one of those 
 "comfy," fat little women who remain happy 
 and bubbling with fun in spite of hard knocks. 
 I had already fallen in love with Regalia, she 
 is so jolly and unaffected, so fat and so plain. 
 46 
 
SEDALIA AND REGALIA 
 
 Sedalia has a veneer of most uncomfortable 
 refinement. She was shocked because Gale 
 ate all the roast she wanted, and if I had been 
 very sensitive I would have been in tears, 
 because I ate a helping more than Gale did. 
 But about the names. It seemed that 
 "Mis' Lane" married quite young, was an 
 orphan, and had no one to tell her things she 
 should have known. She lived in Missouri, 
 but about a year after her marriage the 
 young couple started overland for the West. 
 It was in November, and one night when 
 they had reached the plains a real blue bliz- 
 zard struck them. "Mis' Lane" had been 
 in pain all day and soon she knew what was 
 the matter. They were alone and it was a 
 day's travel back to the last house. The 
 team had given out and the wind and sleet 
 were seeing which could do the most mean- 
 ness. At last the poor man got a fire started 
 and a wagon sheet stretched in such a man- 
 ner that it kept off the sleet. He fixed a bed 
 under the poor shelter and did all he could to 
 47 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 keep the fire from blowing away, and there, 
 a few hours later, a little girl baby was born. 
 They melted sleet in the frying-pan to get 
 water to wash it. "Mis' Lane" kept feeling 
 no better fast, and about the time they got 
 the poor baby dressed a second little one 
 came. 
 
 That she told me herself is proof she did n't 
 die, I guess, but it is right hard to believe 
 she did n't. Luckily the fire lasted until the 
 babies were dressed and the mother began to 
 feel better, for there was no wood. Soon the 
 wind stopped and the snow fell steadily. It 
 was warmer, and the whole family snuggled 
 up under the wagon sheet and slept. 
 
 Mr. Lane is a powerful good husband. 
 He waited two whole days for his wife to 
 gain strength before he resumed the journey, 
 and on the third morning he actually carried 
 her to the wagon. Just think of it! Could 
 more be asked of any man? 
 
 Every turn of the wheels made poor "Mis' 
 Lane" more homesick. Like Mrs. Wiggs of 
 
 4 8 
 
SEDALIA AND REGALIA 
 
 the Cabbage Patch, she had a taste for geo- 
 graphical names, and "Mis' Lane" is very 
 loyal, so she wanted to call the little first- 
 born "Missouri." Mr. Lane said she might, 
 but that if she did he would call the other one 
 "Arkansas." Sometimes homesickness would 
 almost master her. She would hug up the 
 little red baby and murmur " Missouri," and 
 then daddy would growl playfully to "Arkan- 
 sas." It went on that way for a long time 
 and at last she remembered that Sedalia was 
 in Missouri, so she felt glad and really named 
 the older baby "Sedalia." But she could 
 think of nothing to match the name and was 
 in constant fear the father would name the 
 other baby "Little Rock." 
 
 For three years poor Gale was just 
 "t'other one." Then the Lanes went to 
 Green River where some lodge was having a 
 parade. They were watching the drill when 
 a "bystander that was standing by" said 
 something about the "fine regalia." In- 
 stantly "Mis' Lane" thought of her un- 
 49 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 named child ; so since that time Gale has had 
 a name. 
 
 There could be no two people more unlike 
 than the sisters. Sedalia is really handsome, 
 and she is thin. But she is vain, selfish, shal- 
 low, and conceited. Gale is not even pretty, 
 but she is clean and she is honest. She does 
 many little things that are not exactly polite, 
 but she is good and true. They both went 
 to the barn with me to milk. Gale tucked up 
 her skirts and helped me. She said, "I just 
 love a stable, with its hay and comfortable, 
 contented cattle. I never go into one without 
 thinking of the little baby Christ. I almost 
 expect to see a little red baby in the straw 
 every time I peek into a manger." 
 
 Sedalia answered, "Well, for Heaven's 
 sake, get out of the stable to preach. Who 
 wants to stand among these smelly cows all 
 day?" 
 
 They stayed with us almost a week, and 
 one day when Gale and I were milking she 
 asked me to invite her to stay with me a 
 50 
 
SEDALIA AND REGALIA 
 
 month. She said to ask her mother, and left 
 her mother and myself much together. But 
 Sedalia stuck to her mother like a plaster and 
 I just could not stand Sedalia a whole month. 
 However, I was spared all embarrassment, 
 for "Mis' Lane" asked me if I could not 
 find work enough to keep Gale busy for a 
 month or two. She went on to explain that 
 Sedalia was expecting to be married and that 
 Gale was so "common" she would really 
 spoil the match. I was surprised and indig- 
 nant, especially as Sedalia sat and listened 
 so brazenly, so I said I thought Sedalia would 
 need all the help she could get to get married 
 and that I should be glad to have Gale visit 
 me as long as she liked. 
 
 So Gale stayed on with me. One afternoon 
 she had gone to the post-office when I saw 
 Mr. Patterson ride up. He went into the 
 bunk-house to wait until the men should 
 come. Now, from something Gale had said I 
 fancied that Bob Patterson must be the right 
 man. I am afraid I am not very delicate 
 51 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 about that kind of meddling, and while I had 
 been given to understand that Patterson was 
 the man Sedalia expected to marry, I did n't 
 think any man would choose her if he could 
 get Gale, so I called him. We had a long 
 chat and he told me frankly he wanted Gale, 
 but that she did n't care for him, and that 
 they kept throwing "that danged Sedalia" 
 at him. Then he begged my pardon for say- 
 ing "danged," but I told him I approved of 
 the word when applied to Sedalia, and broke 
 the news to him that Gale was staying with 
 me. He fairly beamed. So that night I left 
 Gale to wash dishes and Bob to help her 
 while I held Mr. Stewart a prisoner in the 
 stable and questioned him regarding Patter- 
 son's prospects and habits. I found both all 
 that need be, and told Mr. Stewart about my 
 talk with Patterson, and he said, "Wooman, 
 some day ye '11 gang ploom daft." But he 
 admitted he was glad it was the "bonny 
 lassie, instead of the bony one." When we 
 went to the house Mr. Stewart said, " Weel, 
 52 
 
SEDALIA AND REGALIA 
 
 when are you douchy bairns gangin* to the 
 kirk?" 
 
 They left it to me, so I set Thanksgiving 
 Day, and as there is no "kirk to gang to," 
 we are going to have a justice of the peace 
 and they are to be married here. We are 
 going to have the dandiest dinner that I can 
 cook, and Mr. Stewart went to town next 
 day for the wedding dress, the gayest plaid 
 outside of Caledonia. But Gale has lots of 
 sense and is going to wear it. I have it 
 almost finished, and while it does n't look 
 just like a Worth model, still it looks plumb 
 good for me to have made. The boys are 
 going up after Zebulon Pike, and Mr. Stewart 
 is going after "Mis' Lane." Joy waves are 
 radiating from this ranch and about Thanks- 
 giving morning one will strike you. 
 
 With lots of love and happy wishes, 
 Your ex-Washlady, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 
VI 
 
 a thanksgiving-day wedding 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 ... I think every one enjoyed our 
 Thanksgiving programme except poor Gale. 
 She was grieved, I verily believe, because 
 Mr. Patterson is not Mormon and could not 
 take Sedalia and herself also. I suppose it 
 seemed odd to her to be unable to give way 
 to Sedalia as she had always done. 
 
 I had cooked and cooked. Gale and Zebu- 
 Ion Pike both helped all they could. The 
 wedding was to be at twelve o'clock, so at 
 ten I hustled Gale into my room to dress. I 
 had to lock the door to keep her in, and I 
 divided my time between the last touches to 
 my dinner and the finishing touches to Gale's 
 toilet and receiving the people. The Lane 
 party had not come yet, and I was scared to 
 death lest Sedalia had had a tantrum and 
 54 
 
THANKSGIVING-DAY WEDDING 
 
 that Mr. Stewart would not get back in time. 
 At last I left the people to take care of them- 
 selves, for I had too much on my mind to 
 bother with them. Just after eleven Mr. 
 Stewart, Mis ' Lane, Sedalia, and Pa Lane 
 "arriv" and came at once into the kitchen 
 to warm. In a little while poor, frightened 
 Gale came creeping in, looking guilty. But 
 she looked lovely, too, in spite of her plaid 
 dress. She wore her hair in a coronet braid, 
 which added dignity and height, as well as 
 being simple and becoming. Her mother 
 brought her a wreath for her hair, of lilies 
 of the valley and tiny pink rosebuds. It 
 might seem a little out of place to one who 
 did n't see it, but the effect was really charm- 
 ing. 
 
 Sedalia did n't know that Mr. Stewart had 
 given Gale her dress, so, just to be nasty, 
 she said, as soon as she saw Gale, "Dear me, 
 when are you going to dress, Gale? You will 
 hardly have time to get out of that horse- 
 blanket you are wearing and get into some- 
 55 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 thing decent." You see, she thought it was 
 one of my dresses fixed over for Gale. Pres- 
 ently Sedalia asked me if I was invited to the 
 "function." She had some kind of rash on 
 her face and Zebulon Pike noticed the rash 
 and heard the word " function," so he thought 
 that was the name of some disease and asked 
 Mr. Stewart if the "function" was "catch- 
 ing." Mr. Stewart had heard Sedalia, but 
 knew "Zebbie" had not heard all that was 
 said and how he got the idea he had, so he 
 answered, "Yes, if ye once get the fever." 
 So Zebulon Pike privately warned every one 
 against getting the "function" from Sedalia. 
 There are plenty of people here who don't 
 know exactly what a function is, myself 
 among them. So people edged away from 
 Sedalia, and some asked her if she had seen 
 the doctor and what he thought of her case. 
 Poor girl, I 'm afraid she did n't have a very 
 enjoyable time. 
 
 At last the "jestice" of the peace came, 
 and I hope they live happy ever afterward. 
 56 
 
THANKSGIVING-DAY WEDDING 
 
 That night a dance was given to celebrate 
 the event and we began to have dinner im- 
 mediately after the wedding so as to get 
 through in time to start, for dances are never 
 given in the home here, but in "the hall." 
 Every settlement has one and the invitations 
 are merely written announcements posted 
 everywhere. We have what Sedalia calls 
 "homogenous" crowds. I would n't attempt 
 to say what she means, but as everybody 
 goes no doubt she is right. 
 
 Our dinner was a success, but that is not 
 to be wondered at. Every woman for miles 
 around contributed. Of course we had to 
 borrow dishes, but we could n't think of 
 seating every one; so we set one table for 
 twenty-four and had three other long tables, 
 on one of which we placed all the meats, 
 pickles, and sauces, on another the vege- 
 tables, soup, and coffee, and on the third 
 the pie, cakes, ice-cream, and other desserts. 
 We had two big, long shelves, one above the 
 other, on which were the dishes. The people 
 57 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 helped themselves to dishes and neighbors 
 took turns at serving from the tables, so 
 people got what they wanted and hunted 
 themselves a place to sit while they ate. Two 
 of the cowboys from this ranch waited upon 
 the table at which were the wedding party 
 and some of their friends. Boys from other 
 ranches helped serve and carried coffee, cake, 
 and ice-cream. The tablecloths were toler- 
 ably good linen and we had ironed them wet 
 so they looked nice. We had white lace- 
 paper on the shelves and we used drawn- 
 work paper napkins. As I said, we borrowed 
 dishes, or, that is, every woman who called 
 herself our neighbor brought whatever she 
 thought we would need. So after every one 
 had eaten I suggested that they sort out their 
 dishes and wash them, and in that way I was 
 saved all that work. We had everything done 
 and were off to the dance by five o'clock. 
 We went in sleds and sleighs, the snow was 
 so deep, but it was all so jolly. Zebbie, Mr. 
 Stewart, Jerrine, and I went in the bobsled. 
 58 
 
THANKSGIVING-DAY WEDDING 
 
 We jogged along at a comfortable pace lest 
 the "beasties" should suffer, and every now 
 and then a merry party would fly past us 
 scattering snow in our faces and yelling like 
 Comanches. We had a lovely moon then 
 and the snow was so beautiful! We were 
 driving northward, and to the south and 
 back of us were the great somber, pine-clad 
 Uintah Mountains, while ahead and on every 
 side were the bare buttes, looking like old 
 men of the mountains, — so old they had 
 lost all their hair, beard, and teeth. 
 
VII 
 
 ZEBULON PIKE VISITS HIS OLD HOME 
 
 December 28, 1909. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — Our Thanksgiving 
 affair was the most enjoyable happening I 
 can remember for a long time. Zebulon Pike 
 came, but I had as a bait for him two fat 
 letters from home. As soon as I came back 
 from his place I wrote to Mrs. Carter and 
 trusted to luck for my letter to reach her. I 
 told her all I could about her brother and 
 how seldom he left his mountain home. I 
 asked her to write him all she could in one 
 letter, as the trips between our place and his 
 were so few and far between. So when she 
 received my letter she wrote all she could 
 think of, and then sent her letter and mine 
 to Mothie and Phoebe, who are widows living 
 in the old home. They each took turns writ- 
 ing, so their letters are a complete record of 
 60 
 
PIKE VISITS HIS OLD HOME 
 
 the years "Zebbie" has been gone. The let- 
 ters were addressed to me along with a cor- 
 dial letter from Mrs. Carter asking me to see 
 that he got them and to use my judgment in 
 the delivering. I could n't go myself, but 
 I wanted to read the letters to him and to 
 write the answers; so I selected one piece of 
 news I felt would bring him to hear the rest 
 without his knowing how much there was for 
 him. 
 
 Well, the boys brought him, and a more 
 delighted little man I am sure never lived. 
 I read the letters over and over, and answers 
 were hurried off. He was dreadfully home- 
 sick, but could n't figure on how he could 
 leave the " critters," or how he could trust 
 himself on a train. Mr. Stewart became in- 
 terested, and he is a very resourceful man, 
 so an old Frenchman was found who had no 
 home and wanted a place to stay so he could 
 trap. He was installed at Zebulon Pike's 
 with full instructions as to each "critter's" 
 peculiarities and needs. Then one of the 
 61 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 boys, who was going home for Christmas 
 to Memphis, was induced to wait for Mr. 
 Parker and to see him safe to Little Rock. 
 His money was banked for him, and Mr. 
 Stewart saw that he was properly clothed 
 and made comfortable for the trip. Then he 
 sent a telegram to Judge Carter, who met 
 Zebulon Pike at Little Rock, and they had a 
 family reunion in Yell County. I have had 
 some charming letters from there, but that 
 only proves what I have always said, that 
 I am the luckiest woman' in finding really 
 lovely people and having really happy expe- 
 riences. Good things are constantly happen- 
 ing to me. I wish I could tell you about my 
 happy Christmas, but one of my New Year's 
 resolutions was to stop loading you down 
 with two-thousand-word letters. 
 
 From something you wrote I think I must 
 have written boastingly to you at some time. 
 I have certainly not intended to, and you 
 must please forgive me and remember how 
 ignorant I am and how hard it is for me to 
 62 
 
PIKE VISITS HIS OLD HOME 
 
 express myself properly. I felt after I had 
 written to Mr. Parker's people that I had 
 taken a liberty, but luckily it was not thought 
 of in that way by them. If you only knew 
 how far short I fall of my own hopes you 
 would know I could never boast. Why, it 
 keeps me busy making over mistakes just 
 like some one using old clothes. I get myself 
 all ready to enjoy a success and find that I 
 have to fit a failure. But one consolation is 
 that I generally have plenty of material to 
 cut generously, and many of my failures have 
 proved to be real blessings. 
 
 I do hope this New Year may bring to you 
 the desire of your heart and all that those 
 who love you best most wish for you. 
 
 With lots and lots of love from baby and 
 myself. 
 
 Your ex-washlady, 
 
 Elinore Stewart. 
 
VIII 
 
 a happy christmas 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 My happy Christmas resulted from the 
 ex-sheriff of this county being snowbound 
 here. It seems that persons who come from a 
 lower altitude to this country frequently be- 
 come bewildered, especially if in poor health, 
 leave the train at any stop and wander off 
 into the hills, sometimes dying before they 
 are found. The ex-sheriff cited a case, that 
 of a young German who was returning from 
 the Philippines, where he had been discharged 
 after the war. He was the only child of his 
 widowed mother, who has a ranch a few miles 
 from here. No one knew he was coming 
 home. One day the cook belonging to the 
 camp of a construction gang went hunting 
 and came back running, wild with horror. 
 He had found the body of a man. The coro- 
 64 
 
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 
 
 ner and the sheriff were notified, and next 
 morning went out for the body, but the 
 wolves had almost destroyed it. High up in 
 a willow, under which the poor man had lain 
 down to die, they saw a small bundle tied in 
 a red bandanna and fast to a branch. They 
 found a letter addressed to whoever should 
 find it, saying that the body was that of 
 Benny Louderer and giving them directions 
 how to spare his poor old mother the awful 
 knowledge of how he died. Also there was a 
 letter to his mother asking her not to grieve 
 for him and to keep their days faithfully. 
 "Their days," I afterward learned, were an- 
 niversaries which they had always kept, to 
 which was added "Benny's day." 
 
 Poor boy! When he realized that death 
 was near his every thought was for the 
 mother. Well, they followed his wishes, and 
 the casket containing the bare, gnawed bones 
 was sealed and never opened. And to this 
 day poor Mrs. Louderer thinks her boy died 
 of some fever while yet aboard the transport. 
 65 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 The manner of his death has been kept so se- 
 cret that I am the only one who has heard it. 
 
 I was so sorry for the poor mother that I 
 resolved to visit her the first opportunity I 
 had. I am at liberty to go where I please 
 when there is no one to cook for. So, when 
 the men left, a few days later, I took Jerrine 
 and rode over to the Louderer ranch. I had 
 never seen Mrs. Louderer and it happened 
 to be "Benny's day" that I blundered in 
 upon. I found her to be a dear old German 
 woman living all alone, the people who do 
 the work on the ranch living in another house 
 two miles away. She had been weeping for 
 hours when I got there, but in accordance 
 with her custom on the many anniversaries, 
 she had a real feast prepared, although no 
 one had been bidden. 
 
 She says that God always sends her guests, 
 but that was the first time she had had a 
 little girl. She had a little daughter once 
 herself, little Gretchen, but all that was left 
 was a sweet memory and a pitifully small 
 66 
 
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 
 
 mound on the ranch, quite near the house, 
 where Benny and Gretchen are at rest beside 
 "der fader, Herr Louderer." 
 
 She is such a dear old lady! She made us 
 so welcome and she is so entertaining. All 
 the remainder of the day we listened to sto- 
 ries of her children, looked at her pictures, 
 and Jerrine had a lovely time with a wonder- 
 ful wooden doll that they had brought with 
 them from Germany. Mrs. Louderer forgot 
 to weep in recalling her childhood days and 
 showing us her treasures. And then our 
 feast, — for it was verily a feast. We had 
 goose and it was so delicious. I could n't tell 
 you half the good things any more than I 
 could have eaten some of all of them. 
 
 We sat talking until far into the night, 
 and she asked me how I was going to spend 
 Christmas. I told her, " Probably in being 
 homesick." She said that would never do 
 and suggested that we spend it together. 
 She said it was one of their special days and 
 that the only happiness left her was in mak- 
 67 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 ing some one else happy ; so she had thought 
 of cooking some nice things and going to as 
 many sheep camps as she could, taking with 
 her the good things to the poor exiles, the 
 sheep-herders. I liked the plan and was glad 
 to agree, but I never dreamed I should have 
 so lovely a time. When the queer old wooden 
 clock announced two we went to bed. 
 
 I left quite early the next morning with 
 my head full of Christmas plans. You may 
 not know, but cattle-men and sheep-men 
 cordially hate each other. Mr. Stewart is 
 a cattle-man, and so I did n't mention my 
 Christmas plans to him. I saved all the 
 butter I could spare for the sheep-herders; 
 they never have any. That and some jars of 
 gooseberry jelly was all I could give them. 
 I cooked plenty for the people here, and two 
 days before Christmas I had a chance to go 
 down to Mrs. Louderer's in a buggy, so we 
 went. We found her up to her ears in cook- 
 ing, and such sights and smells I could never 
 describe. She was so glad I came early, for 
 68 
 
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 
 
 she needed help. I never worked so hard in 
 my life or had a pleasanter time. 
 
 Mrs. Louderer had sent a man out several 
 days before to find out how many camps 
 there were and where they were located. 
 There were twelve camps and that means 
 twenty-four men. We roasted six geese, 
 boiled three small hams and three hens. We 
 had besides several meat-loaves and links of 
 sausage. We had twelve large loaves of the 
 best rye bread; a small tub of doughnuts; 
 twelve coffee-cakes, more to be called fruit- 
 cakes, and also a quantity of little cakes with 
 seeds, nuts, and fruit in them, — so pretty to 
 look at and so good to taste. These had a 
 thick coat of icing, some brown, some pink, 
 some white. I had thirteen pounds of butter 
 and six pint jars of jelly, so we melted the 
 jelly and poured it into twelve glasses. 
 
 The plan was, to start real early Christmas 
 
 Eve morning, make our circuit of camps, and 
 
 wind up the day at Frau O'Shaughnessy's to 
 
 spend the night. Yes, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 
 69 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 is Irish, — as Irish as the pigs in Dublin. 
 Before it was day the man came to feed and 
 to get our horses ready. We were up betimes 
 and had breakfast. The last speck was wiped 
 from the shining stove, the kitchen floor was 
 scrubbed, and the last small thing put in 
 order. The man had four horses harnessed 
 and hitched to the sled, on which was placed 
 a wagon-box filled with straw, hot rocks, 
 and blankets. Our twelve apostles — that 
 is what we called our twelve boxes — were 
 lifted in and tied firmly into place. Then 
 we clambered in and away we went. Mrs. 
 Louderer drove, and Tarn O'Shanter and 
 Paul Revere were snails compared to us. 
 We did n't follow any road either, but went 
 sweeping along across country. No one else 
 in the world could have done it unless they 
 were drunk. We went careening along hill- 
 sides without even slacking the trot. Occa- 
 sionally we struck a particularly stubborn 
 bunch of sagebrush and even the sled-runners 
 would jump up into the air. We did n't stop 
 70 
 
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 
 
 to light, but hit the earth several feet in ad- 
 vance of where we left it. Luck was with 
 us, though. I hardly expected to get through 
 with my head unbroken, but not even a 
 glass was cracked. 
 
 It would have done your heart good to see 
 the sheep-men. They were all delighted, and 
 when you consider that they live solely on 
 canned corn and tomatoes, beans, salt pork, 
 and coffee, you can fancy what they thought 
 of their treat. They have mutton when it is 
 fit to eat, but that is certainly not in winter. 
 One man at each camp does the cooking and 
 the other herds. It does n't make any differ- 
 ence if the cook never cooked before, and 
 most of them never did. At one camp, where 
 we stopped for dinner, they had a most in- 
 teresting collection of fossils. After deliver- 
 ing our last "apostle," we turned our faces 
 toward Frau O'Shaughnessy's, and got there 
 just in time for supper. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy is a widow, too, and 
 has quite an interesting story. She is a 
 7i 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 dumpy little woman whose small nose seems 
 to be smelling the stars, it is so tip-tilted. 
 She has the merriest blue eyes and the quick- 
 est wit. It is really worth a severe bumping 
 just to be welcomed by her. It was so warm 
 and cozy in her low little cabin. She had her 
 table set for supper, but she laid plates for 
 us and put before us a beautifully roasted 
 chicken. Thrifty Mrs. Louderer thought it 
 should have been saved until next day, so 
 she said to Frau O'Shaughnessy, "We hate 
 to eat your hen, best you save her till to- 
 morrow." But Mrs. O'Shaughnessy an- 
 swered, "Oh, 'tis no mather, 'tis an ould 
 hin she was annyway." So we enjoyed the 
 "ould hin," which was brown, juicy, and 
 tender. 
 
 When we had finished supper and were 
 drinking our "tay," Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 told our fortunes with the tea-leaves. She told 
 mine first and said I would die an old maid. 
 I said it was rather late for that, but she 
 cheerfully replied, "Oh, well, better late than 
 72 
 
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 
 
 niver." She predicted for Mrs. Louderer that 
 she should shortly catch a beau. "'T is the 
 next man you see that will come coortin' 
 you." Before we left the table some one 
 knocked and a young man, a sheep-herder, 
 entered. He belonged to a camp a few miles 
 away and is out from Boston in search of 
 health. He had been into town and his horse 
 was lamed so he could not make it into camp, 
 and he wanted to stay overnight. He was 
 a stranger to us all, but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 made him at home and fixed such a tempting 
 supper for him that I am sure he was glad of 
 the chance to stay. He was very decidedly 
 English, and powerfully proud of it. He 
 asked Mrs. O'Shaughnessy if she was Irish 
 and she said, "No, ye haythen, it's Chinese 
 Oi am. Can't yez tell it be me Cockney 
 accint?" Mr. Boutwell looked very much 
 surprised. I don't know which was the fun- 
 nier, the way he looked or what she said. 
 
 We had a late breakfast Christmas morn- 
 ing, but before we were through Mr. Stewart 
 73 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 came. We had planned to spend the day 
 with Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, but he did n't ap- 
 prove of our going into the sheep district, 
 so when he found where we had gone he came 
 after us. Mrs. Louderer and he are old ac- 
 quaintances and he bosses her around like 
 he tries to boss me. Before we left, Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy's married daughter came, so 
 we knew she would not be lonely. 
 
 It was almost one o'clock when we got 
 home, but all hands helped and I had plenty 
 cooked anyway, so we soon had a good din- 
 ner on the table. Mr. Stewart had prepared 
 a Christmas box for Jerrine and me. He 
 does n't approve of white waists in the 
 winter. I had worn one at the wedding and 
 he felt personally aggrieved. For me in the 
 box were two dresses, that is, the material 
 to make them. One is a brown and red 
 checked, and the other green with a white 
 fleck in, both outing flannel. For Jerrine 
 there was a pair of shoes and stockings, both 
 stockings full of candy and nuts. He is very 
 74 
 
A HAPPY CHRISTMAS 
 
 bluff in manner, but he is really the kindest 
 person. 
 
 Mrs. Louderer stayed until New Year's 
 day. My Christmas was really a very happy 
 one. 
 
 Your friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 
 . . . An interesting day on this ranch is 
 the day the cattle are named. If Mr. Stewart 
 had children he would as soon think of leav- 
 ing them unnamed as to let a "beastie" go 
 without a name. 
 
 On the day they vaccinated he came into 
 the kitchen and told me he would need me 
 to help him name the " critters/ ' So he and 
 I "assembled " in a safe place and took turns 
 naming the calves. As fast as a calf was 
 vaccinated it was run out of the chute and 
 he or I called out a name for it and it was 
 booked that way. 
 
 The first two he named were the "Duke 
 of Monmouth" and the "Duke of Mont- 
 75 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 rose." I called my first "Oliver Cromwell" 
 and "John Fox." The poor "mon" had to 
 have revenge, so the next ugly, scrawny little 
 beast he called the "Poop of Roome." And 
 it was a heifer calf, too. 
 
 This morning I had the startling news that 
 the "Poop" had eaten too much alfalfa and 
 was all "swellit oop," and, moreover, he had 
 "stealit it." I don't know which is the more 
 astonishing, that the Pope has stolen alfalfa, 
 or that he has eaten it. 
 
 We have a swell lot of names, but I am 
 not sure I could tell you which is "Bloody 
 Mary," or which is "Elizabeth," or, indeed, 
 which is which of any of them. 
 
 E. R. 
 
IX 
 
 A CONFESSION 
 
 April 5, 1910. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 I find upon re-reading your letter that I 
 did not answer it at all when I wrote you. 
 You must think me very indifferent, but I 
 really don't mean to be. 
 
 My house joins on to Mr. Stewart's house. 
 It was built that way so that I could "hold 
 down" my land and job at the same time. 
 I see the wisdom of it now, though at first I 
 did not want it that way. My boundary 
 lines run within two feet of Mr. Stewart's 
 house, so it was quite easy to build on. 
 
 I think the Pattersons' ranch is about 
 twenty-five miles from us. I am glad to tell 
 you they are doing splendidly. Gale is just 
 as thrifty as she can be and Bobby is steady 
 and making money fast. Their baby is the 
 77 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 dearest little thing. I have heard that 
 Sedalia is to marry a Mormon bishop, but I 
 doubt it. She puts on very disgusting airs 
 about "our Bobby," and she patronizes Gale 
 most shamefully; but Gale, bless her uncon- 
 scious heart, is so happy in her husband and 
 son that she does n't know Sedalia is insult- 
 ing. 
 
 My dear old grandmother whom I loved 
 so much has gone home to God. I used to 
 write long letters to her. I should like a few 
 addresses of old persons who are lonely as 
 she was, who would like letters such as I 
 write. You know I can't be brief. I have 
 tried and cannot. If you know of any persons 
 who would not tire of my long accounts and 
 would care to have them, you will be doing 
 me a favor to let me know. 
 
 I have not treated you quite frankly about 
 something you had a right to know about. 
 I am ashamed and I regret very much that I 
 have not told you. I so dread the possibility 
 of losing your friendship that I will never tell 
 
 78 
 
A CONFESSION 
 
 you unless you promise me beforehand to 
 forgive me. I know that is unfair, but it is 
 the only way I can see out of a difficulty that 
 my foolish reticence has led me into. Few 
 people, perhaps, consider me reticent, but in 
 some cases I am afraid I am even deceitful. 
 Won't you make it easy to u 'fess" so I may 
 be happy again? 
 
 Truly your friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 
 June 1 6, 1 9 io. 
 
 My dear Friend, — 
 
 Your card just to hand. I wrote you some 
 time ago telling you I had a confession to 
 make and have had no letter since, so thought 
 perhaps you were scared I had done some- 
 thing too bad to forgive. I am suffering just 
 now from eye-strain and can't see to write 
 long at a time, but I reckon I had better 
 confess and get it done with. 
 
 The thing I have done is to marry Mr. 
 Stewart. It was such an inconsistent thing 
 79 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 to do that I was ashamed to tell you. And, 
 too, I was afraid you would think I did n't 
 need your friendship and might desert me. 
 Another of my friends thinks that way. 
 
 I hope my eyes will be better soon and 
 then I will write you a long letter. 
 
 Your old friend with a new name, 
 
 Elinore Stewart. 
 
X 
 
 THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 August 15, 19 10. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 . . . Grandma Edmonson's birthday is 
 the 30th of May, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 suggested that we give her a party. I had 
 never seen Grandma, but because of some- 
 thing that happened in her family years ago 
 which a few narrow-heads whom it did n't 
 concern in the least cannot forgive or forget, 
 I had heard much of her. The family con- 
 sists of Grandma, Grandpa, and little Cora 
 Belle, who is the sweetest little bud that ever 
 bloomed upon the twigs of folly. 
 
 The Edmonsons had only one child, a 
 daughter, who was to have married a man 
 whom her parents objected to solely because 
 he was a sheep-man, while their sympathies 
 were with the cattle-men, although they 
 81 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 owned only a small bunch. To gain their 
 consent the young man closed out his interest 
 in sheep, at a loss, filed on a splendid piece of 
 land near them, and built a little home for the 
 girl he loved. Before they could get to town 
 to be married Grandpa was stricken with 
 rheumatism. Grandma was already almost 
 past going on with it, so they postponed the 
 marriage, and as that winter was particu- 
 larly severe, the young man took charge of 
 the Edmonson stock and kept them from 
 starving. As soon as he was able he went for 
 the license. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and a neighbor were 
 hunting some cattle that had wandered away 
 and found the poor fellow shot in the back. 
 He was not yet dead and told them it was 
 urgently necessary for them to hurry him 
 to the Edmonsons' and to get some one to 
 perform the marriage ceremony as quickly 
 as possible, for he could not live long. They 
 told him such haste meant quicker death 
 because he would bleed more; but he in- 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 sisted, so they got a wagon and hurried all 
 they could. But they could not outrun 
 death. When he knew he could not live to 
 reach home, he asked them to witness all he 
 said. Everything he possessed he left to the 
 girl he was to have married, and said he was 
 the father of the little child that was to come. 
 He begged them to befriend the poor girl he 
 had to leave in such a condition, and to take 
 the marriage license as evidence that he had 
 tried to do right. The wagon was stopped 
 so the jolting would not make death any 
 harder, and there in the shadow of the great 
 twin buttes he died. 
 
 They took the body to the little home he 
 had made, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy went to 
 the Edmonsons' to do what she could there. 
 Poor Cora Jane did n't know how terrible a 
 thing wounded pride is. She told her parents 
 her misdeeds. They could n't see that they 
 were in any way to blame. They seemed 
 to care nothing for her terrible sorrow nor 
 for her weakened condition. All they could 
 
 83 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 think of was that the child they had almost 
 worshiped had disgraced them; so they told 
 her to go. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy took her to the home 
 that had been prepared for her, where the 
 poor body lay. Some way they got through 
 those dark days, and then began the waiting 
 for the little one to come. Poor Cora Jane 
 said she would die then, and that she wanted 
 to die, but she wanted the baby to know 
 it was loved, — she wanted to leave some- 
 thing that should speak of that love when the 
 child should come to understanding. So Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy said they would make all its 
 little clothes with every care, and they 
 should tell of the love. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 is the daintiest needleworker I have ever 
 seen; she was taught by the nuns at St. 
 Catherine's in the "ould country." She was 
 all patience with poor, unskilled Cora Jane, 
 and the little outfit that was finally finished 
 was dainty enough for a fairy. Little Cora 
 Belle is so proud of it. 
 
 8 4 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 At last the time came and Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy went after the parents. Long before, 
 they had repented and were only too glad to 
 go. The poor mother lived one day and night 
 after the baby came. She laid the tiny thing 
 in her mother's arms and told them to call 
 her Cora Belle. She told them she gave them 
 a pure little daughter in place of the sinful 
 one they had lost. 
 
 That was almost twelve years ago, and 
 the Edmonsons have lived in the new house 
 all this time. The deed to the place was made 
 out to Cora Belle, and her grandfather is her 
 guardian. . . . 
 
 If you traveled due north from my home, 
 after about nine hours' ride you would come 
 into an open space in the butte lands, and 
 away between two buttes you would see the 
 glimmer of blue water. As you drew nearer 
 you would be able to see the fringe of willows 
 around the lake, and presently a low, red- 
 roofed house with corrals and stables. You 
 would see long lines of "buck" fence, a flock 
 85 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 of sheep near by, and cattle scattered about 
 feeding. This is Cora Belle's home. On the 
 long, low porch you would see two old folks 
 rocking. The man is small, and has rheuma- 
 tism in his legs and feet so badly that he can 
 barely hobble. The old lady is large and fat, 
 and is also afflicted with rheumatism, but 
 has it in her arms and shoulders. They are 
 both cheerful and hopeful, and you would 
 get a cordial welcome. . . . 
 
 When you saw Cora Belle you would see 
 a stout, square-built little figure with long 
 flaxen braids, a pair of beautiful brown eyes 
 and the longest and whitest lashes you ever 
 saw, a straight nose, a short upper lip, a 
 broad, full forehead, — the whole face, 
 neither pretty nor ugly, plentifully sown 
 with the brownest freckles. She is very truly 
 the head of the family, doing all the house- 
 work and looking after the stock, winter and 
 summer, entirely by herself. Three years ago 
 she took things into her own hands, and since 
 that time has managed altogether. Mrs. 
 86 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 O'Shaughnessy, however, tells her what to 
 do. 
 
 The sheep, forty in number, are the result 
 of her individual efforts. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 told her there was more money in raising 
 lambs than in raising chickens, so she quit 
 the chickens as a business and went to some 
 of the big sheep-men and got permission to 
 take the "dogie" lambs, which they are glad 
 to give away. She had plenty of cows, so 
 she milked cows and fed lambs all day long 
 all last year. This year she has forty head of 
 nice sheep worth four dollars each, and she 
 does n't have to feed them the year round 
 as she would chickens, and the wolves are 
 no worse to kill sheep than they are to kill 
 chickens. When shearing-time came she 
 went to a sheep-man and told him she would 
 help cook for his men one week if he would 
 have her sheep sheared with his. She said 
 her work was worth three dollars, that is 
 what one man would get a day shearing, and 
 he could easily shear her sheep in one day. 
 87 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 That is how she got her sheep sheared. The 
 man had her wool hauled to town with his, 
 sold it for her, and it brought sixty dollars. 
 She took her money to Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. 
 She wanted some supplies ordered before 
 she went home, because, as she gravely said, 
 "the rheumatiz would get all the money she 
 had left when she got home," — meaning 
 that her grandparents would spend what 
 remained for medicine. 
 
 The poor old grandparents read all the 
 time of wonderful cures that different dopes 
 accomplish, and they spend every nickel they 
 can get their hands on for nostrums. They 
 try everything they read of, and have to buy 
 it by the case, — horrid patent stuff! They 
 have rolls of testimonials and believe every 
 word, so they keep on trying and hoping. 
 When there is any money they each order 
 whatever medicine they want to try. If 
 Mrs. Edmonson's does n't seem to help her, 
 Grandpa takes it and she takes his, — that is 
 their idea of economy. They would spend 
 88 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 hours telling you about their different reme- 
 dies and would offer you spoonful after 
 spoonful of vile-looking liquid, and be mildly 
 grieved when you refused to take it. Grand- 
 ma's hands are so bent and twisted that she 
 can't sew, so dear old Grandpa tries to do it. 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy told me that she 
 helped out when she could. Three years ago 
 she made them all a complete outfit, but the 
 "rheumatiz" has been getting all the spare 
 money since then, so there has been nothing 
 to sew. A peddler sold them a piece of ging- 
 ham which they made up for Cora Belle. It 
 was broad pink and white stripes, and they 
 wanted some style to "Cory's" clothes, so 
 they cut a gored skirt. But they had no pat- 
 tern and made the gores by folding a width 
 of the goods biasly and cutting it that way. It 
 was put together with no regard to match- 
 ing the stripes, and a bias seam came in the 
 center behind, but they put no stay in the 
 seam and the result was the most outrageous 
 affair imaginable. 
 
 89 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Well, we had a large room almost empty 
 and Mr. Stewart liked the idea of a party, 
 so Mrs. Louderer, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, and 
 myself planned for the event. It was to be 
 a sewing- bee, a few good neighbors invited, 
 and all to sew for Grandma. . . . So Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy went to Grandma's and got 
 all the material she had to make up. I had 
 saved some sugar-bags and some flour-bags. 
 I knew Cora Belle needed underwear, so I 
 made her some little petticoats of the larger 
 bags and some drawers of the smaller. I had 
 a small piece of white lawn that I had no use 
 for, and of that I made a dear little sunbon- 
 net with a narrow edging of lace around, and 
 also made a gingham bonnet for her. Two 
 days before the time, came Mrs. Louderer, 
 laden with bundles, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, 
 also laden. We had all been thinking of Cora 
 Belle. Mr. Stewart had sent by mail for her 
 a pair of sandals for everyday wear and a 
 nice pair of shoes, also some stockings. Mrs. 
 Louderer brought cloth for three dresses of 
 90 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 heavy Dutch calico, and gingham for three 
 aprons. She made them herself and she sews 
 so carefully. She had bought patterns and 
 the little dresses were stylishly made, as well 
 as well made. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy brought 
 a piece of crossbar with a tiny forget-me- 
 not polka dot, and also had goods and 
 embroidery for a suit of underwear. My 
 own poor efforts were already completed 
 when the rest came, so I was free to help 
 them. 
 
 Late in the afternoon of the 29th a funny 
 something showed up. Fancy a squeaky, 
 rickety old wagon without a vestige of paint. 
 The tires had come off and had been "set" 
 at home; that is done by heating the tires 
 red-hot and having the rims of the wheels 
 covered with several layers of burlap, or 
 other old rags, well wet; then the red-hot 
 tire is put on and water hurriedly poured on 
 to shrink the iron and to keep the burlap 
 from blazing. Well, whoever had set Cora 
 Belle's tires had forgotten to cut away the 
 91 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 surplus burlap, so all the ragtags were merrily 
 waving in the breeze. 
 
 Cora Belle's team would bring a smile to 
 the soberest face alive. Sheba is a tall, lanky 
 old mare. Once she was bay in color, but the 
 years have added gray hair until now she is 
 roan. Being so long-legged she strides along 
 at an amazing pace which her mate, Balaam, 
 a little donkey, finds it hard to keep up with. 
 Balaam, like Sheba, is full of years. Once 
 his glossy brown coat was the pride of some 
 Mexican's heart, but time has added to his 
 color also, and now he is blue. His eyes are 
 sunken and dim, his ears no longer stand up 
 in true donkey style, but droop dejectedly. 
 He has to trot his best to keep up with 
 Sheba's slowest stride. About every three 
 miles he balks, but little Cora Belle does n't 
 call it balking, she says Balaam has stopped 
 to rest, and they sit and wait till he is ready to 
 trot along again. That is the kind of layout 
 which drew up before our door that evening. 
 Cora Belle was driving and she wore her 
 92 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 wonderful pink dress which hung down in a 
 peak behind, fully six inches longer than any- 
 where else. The poor child had no shoes. The 
 winter had tried the last pair to their utmost 
 endurance and the "rheumatiz" had long 
 since got the last dollar, so she came with her 
 chubby little sunburned legs bare. Her poor 
 little scarred feet were clean, her toe-nails 
 full of nicks almost into the quick, broken 
 against rocks when she had been herding her 
 sheep. In the back of the wagon, flat on the 
 bottom, sat Grandma and Grandpa, such 
 bundles of coats and blankets I can't de- 
 scribe. After a great deal of trouble we got 
 them unloaded and into the house. Then 
 Mrs. Louderer entertained them while Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy and I prepared supper and 
 got a bath ready for Cora Belle. We had 
 a T-bone steak, mashed potatoes, hominy, 
 hot biscuits and butter, and stewed prunes. 
 Their long ride had made them hungry and 
 I know they enjoyed their meal. 
 After supper Cora Belle and I washed the 
 93 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 dishes while Mrs. O'Shaughnessy laid out 
 the little clothes. Cora Belle's clothes were 
 to be a surprise. The postmistress here also 
 keeps a small store and has ribbon, and when 
 she heard of our plans from Mr. Stewart she 
 sent up a couple of pairs of hair-ribbon for 
 Cora Belle. Soon Mrs. O'Shaughnessy called 
 us, and Cora Belle and I went into the bed- 
 room where she was. I wish you could have 
 seen that child! Poor little neglected thing, 
 she began to cry. She said, "They ain't for 
 me, I know they ain't. Why, it ain't my 
 birthday, it's Granny's." Nevertheless, she 
 had her arms full of them and was clutch- 
 ing them so tightly with her work-worn little 
 hands that we could n't get them. She 
 sobbed so deeply that Grandma heard her 
 and became alarmed. She hobbled to the 
 door and pounded with her poor twisted 
 hands, calling all the while, "Cory, Cory 
 Belle, what ails you?" She got so excited 
 that I opened the door, but Cora Belle told 
 her to go away. She said, "They ain't 
 94 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 for you, Granny, and they ain't for me 
 either." . . . 
 
 People here observe Decoration Day 
 faithfully, and Cora Belle had brought half 
 a wagon-load of iris, which grows wild here. 
 Next morning we were all up early, but Cora 
 Belle's flowers had wilted and she had to 
 gather more, but we all hurried and helped. 
 She said as she was going to see her mother 
 she wanted to wear her prettiest dress, so 
 Gale and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy helped her to 
 get ready. The cemetery is only about two 
 miles away, so we were all down quite early. 
 We were obliged to hurry because others 
 were coming to help sew. Cora Belle went 
 at once to the graves where her parents lie 
 side by side, and began talking to her mother 
 just as though she saw her. "You didn't 
 know me, did you, Mother, with my pretty 
 new things ? But I am your little girl, 
 Mamma. I am your little Cora Belle." After 
 she had talked and had turned every way 
 like a proud little bird, she went to work. 
 95 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 And, oh, how fast she worked! Both graves 
 were first completely covered with pine 
 boughs. It looked like sod, so closely were 
 the little twigs laid. Next she broke the 
 stems off the iris and scattered the blossoms 
 over, and the effect was very beautiful. Then 
 we hurried home and everybody got busy. 
 The men took Grandpa off to another part 
 of the ranch where they were fanning oats to 
 plant, and kept him all day. That was good 
 for him because then he could be with the 
 men all day and he so seldom has a chance to 
 be with men. Several ladies came and they 
 all made themselves at home and worked 
 like beavers, and we all had a fine time. . . . 
 Sedalia was present and almost caused a 
 riot. She says she likes unusual words be- 
 cause they lend distinction to conversation. 
 Well, they do — sometimes. There was an- 
 other lady present whose children are very 
 gifted musically, but who have the bad name 
 of taking what they want without asking. 
 The mother can neither read nor write, and 
 96 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 she is very sensitive about the bad name her 
 children have. While we were all busy some 
 one made a remark about how smart these 
 children were. Sedalia thought that a good 
 time to get in a big word, so she said, "Yes, 
 I have always said Lula was a progeny." 
 Mrs. Hall did n't know what she meant and 
 thought that she was casting reflections on 
 her child's honesty, so with her face scarlet 
 and her eyes blazing she said, " Sedalia Lane, 
 I won't allow you nor nobody else to say my 
 child is a progeny. You can take that back 
 or I will slap you peaked." Sedalia took it 
 back in a hurry, so I guess little Lula Hall 
 is not a progeny. 
 
 Every one left about four except Gale, 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, Mrs. Louderer, and the 
 Edmonsons. They had farthest to go, so 
 they stayed over night again. We worked 
 until ten o'clock that night over Grandma's 
 clothes, but everything was thoroughly fin- 
 ished. Every button was on, every thread- 
 end knotted and clipped, and some tired 
 97 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 workers lay down to rest, as did a very happy 
 child and a very thankful old lady. 
 
 Every one got away by ten o'clock the 
 next morning. The last I saw of little Cora 
 Belle was when they had reached the top of 
 a long slope and Balaam had "stopped to 
 rest." The breeze from the south was play- 
 fully fluttering the rags on the wheels. Pres- 
 ently I heard a long " hee-haw, hee-haw," and 
 I knew Balaam had rested and had started. 
 
 I have been a very busy woman since I 
 began this letter to you several days ago. 
 A dear little child has joined the angels. I 
 dressed him and helped to make his casket. 
 There is no minister in this whole country 
 and I could not bear the little broken lily- 
 bud to be just carted away and buried, so I 
 arranged the funeral and conducted the serv- 
 ices. I know I am unworthy and in no way 
 fitted for such a mission, but I did my poor 
 best, and if no one else is comforted, I am. 
 I know the message of God's love and care 
 has been told once, anyway, to people who 
 98 
 
THE STORY OF CORA BELLE 
 
 have learned to believe more strongly in hell 
 than in heaven. 
 
 Dear friend, I do hope that this New Year 
 
 will bring you and yours fuller joys than you 
 
 have ever known. If I had all the good gifts 
 
 in my hands you should certainly be blessed. 
 
 Your sincere friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert Stewart. 
 
XI 
 
 zebbie's story 
 
 September i, 19 10. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 It was just a few days after the birthday 
 party and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was with me 
 again. We were down at the barn looking at 
 some new pigs, when we heard the big corral 
 gates swing shut, so we hastened out to see 
 who it could be so late in the day. 
 
 It was Zebbie. He had come on the stage 
 to Burnt Fork and the driver had brought 
 him on here. . . . There was so much to tell, 
 and he whispered he had something to tell 
 me privately, but that he was too tired then ; 
 so after supper I hustled him off to bed. . . . 
 
 Next morning . . . the men went off to 
 
 their work and Zebbie and I were left to tell 
 
 secrets. When he was sure we were alone he 
 
 took from his trunk a long, flat box. Inside 
 
 100 
 
ZEBBIE'S STORY 
 
 was the most wonderful shirt I have ever 
 seen; it looked like a cross between a night- 
 shirt and a shirt-waist. It was of homespun 
 linen. The bosom was ruffled and tucked, all 
 done by hand, — such tiny stitches, such 
 patience and skill. Then he handed me an 
 old daguerreotype. I unfastened the little 
 golden hook and inside was a face good to 
 see and to remember. It was dim, yet clear 
 in outline, just as if she were looking out 
 from the mellow twilight of long ago. The 
 sweet, elusive smile, — I could n't tell where 
 it was, whether it was the mouth or the 
 beautiful eyes that were smiling. All that 
 was visible of her dress was the Dutch collar, 
 just like what is being worn now. It was 
 pinned with an ugly old brooch which Zebbie 
 said was a " breast-pin" he had given her. 
 Under the glass on the other side was a strand 
 of faded hair and a slip of paper. The writing 
 on the paper was so faded it was scarcely 
 readable, but it said: "Pauline Gorley, age 
 22, i860." 
 
 101 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Next he showed me a note written by 
 Pauline, simply worded, but it held a world 
 of meaning for Zebbie. It said, " I spun and 
 wove this cloth at Adeline's, enough for me a 
 dress and you a shirt, which I made. It is 
 for the wedding, else to be buried in. Yours, 
 Pauline." The shirt, the picture, and the note 
 had waited for him all these years in Mothie's 
 care. And now I will tell you the story. 
 
 Long, long ago some one did something to 
 some one else and started a feud. Unfortu- 
 nately the Gorleys were on one side and the 
 Parkers on the other. That it all happened 
 before either Zebbie or Pauline was born 
 made no difference. A Gorley must hate a 
 Parker always, as also a Parker must hate 
 a Gorley. Pauline was the only girl, and she 
 had a regiment of big brothers who gloried 
 in the warfare and wanted only the slightest 
 pretext to shoot a Parker. So they grew up, 
 and Zebbie often met Pauline at the quiltings 
 and other gatherings at the homes of non- 
 partisans. He remembers her so perfectly 
 102 
 
ZEBBIE'S STORY 
 
 and describes her so plainly that I can pic- 
 ture her easily. She had brown eyes and hair. 
 She used to ride about on her sorrel palfrey 
 with her "nigger" boy Caesar on behind to 
 open and shut plantation gates. She wore 
 a pink calico sunbonnet, and Zebbie says 
 "she was just like the pink hollyhocks that 
 grew by mother's window." Is n't that a 
 sweet picture? 
 
 Her mother and father were both dead, 
 and she and her brothers lived on their 
 plantation. Zebbie had never dared speak 
 to her until one day he had driven over with 
 his mother and sisters to a dinner given on 
 a neighboring plantation. He was standing 
 outside near the wall, when some one dropped 
 a spray of apple blossoms down upon him 
 from an upper window. He looked up and 
 Pauline was leaning out smiling at him. After 
 that he made it a point to frequent places 
 where he might expect her, and things went 
 so well that presently Caesar was left at home 
 lest he should tell the brothers. She was 
 103 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 a loyal little soul and would not desert, 
 although he urged her to, even promising 
 to go away, "plumb away, clean to Scott 
 County if she would go." She told him that 
 her brothers would go even as far as that to 
 kill him, so that they must wait and hope. 
 Finally Zebbie got tired of waiting, and one 
 day he boldly rode up to the Gorley home 
 and formally asked for Pauline's hand. The 
 bullet he got for his presumption kept him 
 from going to the war with his father and 
 brother when they marched away. 
 
 Some time later George Gorley was shot 
 and killed from ambush, and although Zeb- 
 bie had not yet left his bed the Gorleys be- 
 lieved he did it, and one night Pauline came 
 through a heavy rainstorm, with only Caesar, 
 to warn Zebbie and to beg him, for her 
 sake, to get away as fast as he could that 
 night. She pleaded that she could not live if 
 he were killed and could never marry him if 
 he killed her brothers, so she persuaded him 
 to go while they were all innocent. 
 104 
 
ZEBBIE'S STORY 
 
 . Well, he did as she wished and they never 
 saw each other again. He never went home 
 again until last Thanksgiving, and dear little 
 Pauline had been dead for years. She her- 
 self had taken her little gifts for Zebbie to 
 Mothie to keep for him. Some years later 
 she died and was buried in the dress she 
 mentioned. It was woven at Adeline Car- 
 ter's, one of the bitterest enemies of the Gor- 
 leys, but the sacrifice of her pride did her 
 no good because she was long at rest before 
 Zebbie knew. He had been greatly grieved 
 because no stone marked her grave, only a 
 tangle of rose-briers. So he bought a stone, 
 and in the night before Decoration Day he 
 and two of Uncle Buck's grandsons went to 
 the Gorley burying-ground and raised it to 
 the memory of sweet Pauline. Some of the 
 Gorley s still live there, so he came home at 
 once, fearing if they should find out who 
 placed the stone above their sister they 
 would take vengeance on his poor, frail body. 
 After he had finished telling me his story, 
 105 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 I felt just as I used to when Grandmother 
 opened the "big chist" to air her wedding 
 clothes and the dress each of her babies wore 
 when baptized. It seemed almost like smell- 
 ing the lavender and rose-leaves, and it was 
 with reverent fingers that I folded the shirt, 
 the work of love, yellow with age, and laid it 
 in the box. . . . 
 
 Well, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy returned, and 
 early one morning we started with a wagon 
 and a bulging mess-box for Zebbie's home. 
 We were going a new and longer route in 
 order to take the wagon. Dandelions spread 
 a carpet of gold. Larkspur grew waist-high 
 with its long spikes of blue. The service- 
 bushes and the wild cherries were a mass of 
 white beauty. Meadowlarks and robins and 
 bluebirds twittered and sang from every 
 branch, it almost seemed. A sky of tenderest 
 blue bent over us and fleecy little clouds 
 drifted lazily across. . . . Soon we came to 
 the pineries, where we traveled up deep 
 gorges and canons. The sun shot arrows of 
 1 06 
 
ZEBBIE'S STORY 
 
 gold through the pines down upon us and 
 we gathered our arms full of columbines. 
 The little black squirrels barked and chat- 
 tered saucily as we passed along, and we 
 were all children together. We forgot all 
 about feuds and partings, death and hard 
 times. All we remembered was that God is 
 good and the world is wide and beautiful. 
 We plodded along all day. Next morning 
 there was a blue haze that Zebbie said 
 meant there would be a high wind, so we 
 hurried to reach his home that evening. 
 
 The sun was hanging like a great red ball 
 in the smoky haze when we entered the long 
 canon in which is Zebbie' s cabin. Already it 
 was dusky in the canons below, but not a 
 breath of air stirred. A more delighted man 
 than Zebbie I never saw when we finally 
 drove up to his low, comfortable cabin. 
 Smoke was slowly rising from the chimney, 
 and Gavotte, the man in charge, rushed out 
 and the hounds set up a joyful barking. 
 Gavotte is a Frenchman, and he was all 
 107 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 smiles and gesticulations as he said, " Wel- 
 come, welcome! To-day I am rejoice you 
 have come. Yesterday I am despair if you 
 have come because I am scrub, but to-day, 
 behold, I am delight." 
 
 I have heard of clean people, but Gavotte 
 is the cleanest man I ever saw. The cabin 
 floor was so white I hated to step upon it. 
 The windows shone, and at each there was 
 a calico curtain, blue-and- white check, un- 
 ironed but newly washed. In one window was 
 an old brown pitcher, cracked and nicked, 
 filled with thistles. I never thought them 
 pretty before, but the pearly pink and the 
 silvery green were so pretty and looked so 
 clean that they had a new beauty. Above 
 the fireplace was a great black eagle which 
 Gavotte had killed, the wings outspread and 
 a bunch of arrows in the claws. In one corner 
 near the fire was a washstand, and behind 
 it hung the fishing-tackle. Above one door 
 was a gun-rack, on which lay the rifle and 
 shotgun, and over the other door was a pair 
 1 08 
 
ZEBRIE'S STORY 
 
 of deer-antlers. In the center of the room 
 stood the square home-made table, every 
 inch scrubbed. In the side room, which is 
 the bedroom , was a wide bunk made of pine 
 plank that had also been scrubbed, then 
 filled with fresh, sweet pine boughs, and over 
 them was spread a piece of canvas that had 
 once been a wagon sheet, but Gavotte had 
 washed it and boiled and pounded it until it 
 was clean and sweet. That served for a sheet. 
 
 Zebbie was beside himself with joy. The 
 hounds sprang upon him and expressed their 
 joy unmistakably. He went at once to the 
 corrals to see the ''critters," and every one of 
 them was safely penned for the night. " Old 
 Sime," an old ram (goodness knows how old !) , 
 promptly butted him over, but he just 
 beamed with pleasure. "Sime knows me, 
 dinged if he don't!" was his happy exclama- 
 tion. We went into the cabin and left him 
 fondling the "critters." 
 
 Gavotte did himself proud getting supper. 
 We had trout and the most delicious biscuit. 
 109 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Each of us had a crisp, tender head of lettuce 
 with a spoonful of potato salad in the center. 
 We had preserves made from canned peaches, 
 and the firmest yellow butter. Soon it was 
 quite dark and we had a tiny brass lamp 
 which gave but a feeble light, but it was quite 
 cool so we had a blazing fire which made it 
 light enough. 
 
 When supper was over, Zebbie called us 
 out and asked us if we could hear anything. 
 We could hear the most peculiar, long-drawn, 
 sighing wail that steadily grew louder and 
 nearer. I was really frightened, but he said 
 it was the forerunner of the windstorm that 
 would soon strike us. He said it was wind 
 coming down Crag Cafion, and in just a few 
 minutes it struck us like a cold wave and 
 rushed, sighing, on down the canon. We 
 could hear it after it had passed us, and it 
 was perfectly still around the cabin. Soon 
 we heard the deep roaring of the coming 
 storm, and Zebbie called the hounds in and 
 secured the door. The sparks began to fly 
 no 
 
ZEBBIE'S STORY 
 
 up the chimney. Jerrine lay on a bearskin 
 before the fire, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and 
 I sat on the old blue "settle" at one side. 
 Gavotte lay on the other side of the fire on 
 the floor, his hands under his head. Zebbie 
 got out his beloved old fiddle, tuned up, and 
 began playing. Outside the storm was raging, 
 growing worse all the time. Zebbie played 
 and played. The worse the tumult, the 
 harder the storm, the harder he played. I 
 remember I was holding my breath, expect- 
 ing the house to be blown away every mo- 
 ment, and Zebbie was playing what he called 
 "Bonaparte's Retreat." It all seemed to 
 flash before me — I could see those poor, 
 suffering soldiers staggering along in the 
 snow, sacrifices to one man's unholy ambi- 
 tion. I verily believe we were all bewitched. 
 I should n't have been surprised to have 
 seen witches and gnomes come tumbling 
 down the chimney or flying in at the door, 
 riding on the crest of the storm. I glanced at 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. She sat with her chin 
 in 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 in her hand, gazing with unseeing eyes into 
 the fire. Zebbie seemed possessed; he could 
 n't tire. 
 
 It seemed like hours had passed and the 
 tumult had not diminished. I felt like shriek- 
 ing, but I gathered Jerrine up into my arms 
 and carried her in to bed. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy came with us. She touched my elbow 
 and said, " Child, don't look toward the win- 
 dow, the banshees are out to-night." We 
 knelt together beside the bed and said our 
 beads; then, without undressing save pulling 
 off our shoes, we crawled under our blankets 
 and lay on the sweet, clean pine. We were 
 both perfectly worn out, but we could not 
 sleep. There seemed to be hundreds of dif- 
 ferent noises of the storm, for there are so 
 many canons, so many crooks and turns, 
 and the great forest too. The wind was 
 shrieking, howling, and roaring all at once. 
 A deep boom announced the fall of some 
 giant of the forest. I finally dozed off even 
 in that terrible din, but Zebbie was not so 
 112 
 
v/ctovaH 
 
 ZEBULON PIKE 
 
ZEBBIE'S STORY 
 
 frenzied as he had been. He was playing 
 "Annie Laurie," and that song has always 
 been a favorite of mine. The storm began 
 gradually to die away and "Annie Laurie" 
 sounded so beautiful. I was thinking of 
 Pauline and, I know, to Zebbie, Annie Laurie 
 and Pauline Gorley are one and the same. 
 
 I knew no more until I heard Zebbie call 
 out, "Ho, you sleepy-heads, it's day." Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy turned over and said she was 
 still sleepy. My former visit had taught me 
 what beauty the early morning would spread 
 before me, so I dressed hastily and went out- 
 doors. Zebbie called me to go for a little 
 walk. The amber light of the new day was 
 chasing the violet and amethyst shadows 
 down the canons. It was all more beautiful 
 than I can tell you. On one side the canon- 
 walls were almost straight up. It looked as 
 if we might step off into a very world of 
 mountains. Soon Old Baldy wore a crown of 
 gleaming gold. The sun was up. We walked 
 on and soon came to a brook. We were wash- 
 113 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 ing our faces in its icy waters when we heard 
 twigs breaking, so we stood perfectly still. 
 From out the undergrowth of birch and wil- 
 lows came a deer with two fawns. They 
 stopped to drink, and nibbled the bushes. 
 But soon they scented strangers, and, look- 
 ing about with their beautiful, startled eyes, 
 they saw us and away they went like the 
 wind. We saw many great trees up torn by 
 the storm. High up on the cliffs Zebbie 
 showed me where the eagles built every 
 year. . . . We turned homeward and sat 
 down upon the trunk of a fallen pine to rest 
 and take another look at the magnificent 
 view. Zebbie was silent, but presently he 
 threw a handful of pebbles down the canon 
 wall. M I am not sorry Pauline is dead. I 
 have never shed a tear. I know you think 
 that is odd, but I have never wanted to 
 mourn. I am glad that it is as it is. I am 
 happy and at peace because I know she is 
 mine. The little breeze is Pauline's own 
 voice; she had a little caressing way just like 
 114 
 
ZEBBIE'S STORY 
 
 the gentlest breeze when it stirs your hair. 
 There is something in everything that brings 
 back Pauline: the beauty of the morning, 
 the song of a bird or the flash of its wings. 
 The flowers look like she did. So I have not 
 lost her, she is mine more than ever. I have 
 always felt so, but was never quite sure until 
 I went back and saw where they laid her. 
 I know people think I am crazy, but I don't 
 care for that. I shall not hate to die. When 
 you get to be as old as I am, child, every- 
 thing will have a new meaning to you." 
 
 At last we slowly walked back to the cabin, 
 and at breakfast Zebbie told of the damage 
 the storm had done. He was so common- 
 place that no one ever would have guessed 
 his strange fancy. . . . 
 
 I shall never forget Zebbie as I last saw 
 him. It was the morning we started home. 
 After we left the bench that Zebbie lives on, 
 our road wound down into a deeper canon. 
 Zebbie had followed us to where a turn in the 
 canon should hide us from view. I looked 
 115 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 back and saw him standing on the cliffs, 
 high above us, the early morning sun turn- 
 ing his snowy hair to gold, the breeze- fingers 
 of Pauline tossing the scanty locks. I shall 
 always remember him so, a living monument 
 to a dead past. 
 
 Elinore Stewart. 
 
XII 
 
 A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 October 6, 191 1. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 . . . I once "heared" Sedalia Lane telling 
 some of her experiences, and she said she " sur- 
 reptitiously stole along." One day, when I 
 thought the coast was clear, I was surrepti- 
 tiously examining the contents of the tool- 
 chest with a view toward securing to myself 
 such hammers, saws, and what else I might 
 need in doing some carpentry work I had 
 planned. The tool-chest is kept in the gran- 
 ary , both it and the granary are usually kept 
 locked. Now the "gude mon" has an idea 
 that a "wooman" needs no tools, and the use 
 and misuse of his tools have led to numbers 
 of inter-household wars. I was gloating over 
 my opportunity, and also making the best 
 of it, when a medley of burring Scotch voices 
 117 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 brought me to a quick realization that dis- 
 cretion is the better part of valor. So I went 
 into seclusion behind a tall oat-bin. It 
 seemed that two neighbors whom I had never 
 seen were preparing to go to town, and had 
 come to get some tools and to see if the 
 Stewart would lend them each a team. Now 
 Mr. Stewart must be very righteous, because 
 he certainly regardeth his beast, although 
 he does n't always love his neighbor as him- 
 self. He was willing, however, for friends 
 Tarn Campbell and Archie McEttrick to use 
 his teams, but he himself would take a lighter 
 rig and go along, so as to see that his horses 
 were properly cared for, and to help out in 
 case of need. 
 
 They made their plans, set the day, and 
 went their ways. As soon as I could, I made 
 myself scarce about the granary and very 
 busy about the house, and, like Josiah Allen, 
 I was in a very "happyfied" state of mind. 
 There is nothing Mr. Stewart likes better 
 than to catch me unprepared for something. 
 118 
 
A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 I had been wanting to go to town, and he had 
 said I might go with him next time he went, 
 if I was ready when he was. I knew I would 
 not hear one word about the proposed trip, 
 but that only added to the fun. I had plenty 
 of time to make all preparations ; so the day 
 before they were to start found me with all 
 in readiness. It was quite early in the spring 
 and the evenings were quite chilly. We had 
 just finished supper, when we heard a great 
 rumbling, and I knew neighbors Campbell 
 and McEttrick had arrived on their way to 
 town ; so I began to prepare supper for them. 
 I had n't expected a woman, and was sur- 
 prised when I saw the largest, most ungainly 
 person I have ever met come shambling 
 toward me. 
 
 She was Aggie McEttrick. She is tall and 
 raw-boned, she walks with her toes turned 
 out, she has a most peculiar lurching gait 
 like a camel's. She has skin the color of a 
 new saddle, and the oddest straggly straw- 
 colored hair. She never wears corsets and 
 119 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 never makes her waists long enough, so there 
 is always a streak of gray undershirt visible 
 about her waist. Her skirts are never long 
 enough either, and she knits her own stock- 
 ings. Those inclined can always get a good 
 glimpse of blue-and-white striped hose. She 
 said, "I guess you are the Missus." And 
 that was every word she said until I had 
 supper on the table. The men were busy 
 with their teams, and she sat with her feet 
 in my oven, eyeing my every movement. I 
 told her we had just had our supper, but she 
 waited until I had theirs ready before she 
 announced that neither she nor Archie ate hot 
 biscuits or steak, that they did n't take tea 
 for supper, preferred coffee, and that neither 
 of them could eat peaches or honey. So all of 
 my supper was ruled off except the butter 
 and cream. She went down to their wagons 
 and brought up what she wanted, so Tarn 
 Campbell was the only one who ate my 
 honey and biscuit. 
 
 Tarn is just a Scot with an amazingly close 
 120 
 
A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 fist, and he is very absent-minded. I had 
 met Annie, his wife, and their six children. 
 She told me of his absent-mindedness. Her 
 remedy for his trouble when it came to house- 
 hold needs was to repeat the article two or 
 three times in the list. People out like we 
 are buy a year's supply at a time. So a list 
 of needed things is made up and sent into 
 town. Tarn always managed to forget a 
 great many things. 
 
 Well, bedtime came. I offered to show them 
 to their room, but Aggie said, "We'll nae 
 sleep in your bed. We'll jest bide in the 
 kitchen." I could not persuade her to change 
 her mind. Tarn slept at the barn in order 
 to see after the "beasties," should they need 
 attention during the night. As I was pre- 
 paring for bed, Aggie thrust her head into 
 my room and announced that she would be 
 up at three o'clock. I am not an early bird, 
 so I thought I would let Aggie get her own 
 breakfast, and I told her she would find 
 everything in the pantry. As long as I was 
 121 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 awake I could hear Archie and Aggie talk- 
 ing, but I could not imagine what about. I 
 did n't know their habits so well as I came 
 to later. Next morning the rumbling of their 
 wagons awakened me, but I turned over and 
 slept until after six. 
 
 There are always so many things to do be- 
 fore leaving that it was nine o'clock before 
 we got started. We had only gotten about 
 two miles, when Mr. Stewart remembered 
 he had not locked the granary, so back we 
 trotted. We nooned only a few miles from 
 home. We knew we could not catch the 
 wagons before camping-time unless we drove 
 very hard, so Mr. Stewart said we would 
 go by the Edmonsons' and spend the night 
 there. I enjoy even the memory of that drive 
 through the short spring afternoon, — the 
 warm red sand of the desert ; the Wind River 
 Mountains wrapped in the blue veil of dis- 
 tance; the sparse gray-green sage, ugly in 
 itself, but making complete a beautiful pic- 
 ture; the occasional glimpse we had of shy, 
 122 
 
A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 beautiful wild creatures. So much happiness 
 can be crowded into so short a time. I was 
 glad, though, when Cora Belle's home became 
 a part of our beautiful picture. It is situ- 
 ated among great red buttes, and there is a 
 blue lake back of the house. Around the 
 lake is a fringe of willows. Their house is 
 a low, rambling affair, with a long, low porch 
 and a red clay roof. Before the house is a 
 cotton- wood tree, its gnarled, storm- twisted 
 branches making it seem to have the "rheu- 
 matiz." There is a hop- vine at one end of the 
 porch. It had not come out when we were 
 there, but the dead vine clung hopelessly to 
 its supports. 
 
 Little Cora Belle just bubbled with delight, 
 and her grandparents were scarcely better 
 than she. Spring house-cleaning was just 
 finished, and they have company so seldom 
 that they made us feel that we were doing 
 them a favor by stopping. Poor old "Pa" 
 hobbled out to help put the team away, and 
 when they came back, Cora Belle asked me 
 123 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 out to help prepare supper, so I left Mr. 
 Stewart with "Granny" and "Pa" to listen 
 to their recitals and to taste their many 
 medicines. Cora Belle is really an excellent 
 housekeeper. Her cooking would surprise 
 many people. Her bread was delicious, and I 
 am sure I never tasted anything better than 
 the roasted leg of lamb she gave us for supper. 
 I am ashamed to tell you how much I ate of 
 her carrot jam. From where I sat I had a 
 splendid view of the sunset across the lake. 
 Speaking of things singly, Wyoming has 
 nothing beautiful to offer. Taken altogether, 
 it is grandly beautiful, and at sunrise and 
 sunset the "heavens declare His glory." 
 
 Cora Belle is so animated and so straight- 
 forward, so entirely clean in all her thoughts 
 and actions, that she commands love and 
 respect at one and the same time. After sup- 
 per her grandfather asked her to sing and 
 play for us. Goodness only knows where 
 they got the funny little old organ that Cora 
 Belle thinks so much of. It has spots all over 
 124 
 
A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 it of medicine that has been spilled at differ- 
 ent times, and it has, as Cora Belle said, lost 
 its voice in spots; but that does n't set back 
 Cora Belle at all, she plays away just as if 
 it was all right. Some of the keys keep up 
 a mournful whining and groaning, entirely 
 outside of the tune. Cora Belle says they 
 play themselves. After several "pieces" had 
 been endured, "Pa" said, "Play my piece, 
 Cory Belle"; so we had "Bingen on the 
 Rhine" played and sung from A to izzard. 
 Dear old "Pa," his pain- twisted old face 
 just beamed with pride. I doubt if heaven 
 will have for him any sweeter music than his 
 "baby's" voice. Granny's squeaky, trembly 
 old voice trailed in after Cora Belle's, always 
 a word or two behind. "Tell my friends and 
 companions when they meet and scrouge 
 around " ; that is the way they sang it, but no 
 one would have cared for that, if they had 
 noticed with what happy eagerness the two 
 sang together. The grandparents would like 
 to have sat up all night singing and telling of 
 125 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 things that happened in bygone days, but 
 poor tired little Cora Belle began to nod, so 
 we retired. As we were preparing for bed it 
 suddenly occurred to Mr. Stewart that I had 
 not been surprised when going to town was 
 mentioned, so he said, "Wooman, how did it 
 happen that you were ready when I was to 
 gae to the toone? " "Oh," I said, " I knew you 
 were going." "Who tell it ye?" "A little 
 bird." " 'T was some fool wooman, mayhap." 
 I did n't feel it necessary to enlighten him, 
 and I think he is still wondering how I knew. 
 Next morning we were off early, but we 
 did n't come up with the wagons until almost 
 camping-time. The great heavily-loaded 
 wagons were creaking along over the heavy 
 sands. The McEttricks were behind, Aggie's 
 big frame swaying and lurching with every 
 jolt of the wagon. They never travel without 
 their German socks. They are great thick 
 things to wear on the outside of their shoes. 
 As we came up behind them, we could see 
 Aggie's big socks dangling and bobbing 
 126 
 
A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 beside Archie's from where they were tied on 
 the back part of the wagon. We could hear 
 them talking and see them gesticulating. 
 When we came nearer, we found they were 
 quarreling, and they kept at it as long as I 
 was awake that night. After the men had 
 disposed of their loads, they and Mr. Stewart 
 were going out of town to where a new coal- 
 mine was being opened. I intended to go on 
 the train to Rock Springs to do some shop- 
 ping. Aggie said she was going also. I sug- 
 gested that we get a room together, as we 
 would have to wait several hours for the 
 train, but she was suspicious of my motives. 
 She is greatly afraid of being "done," so she 
 told me to get my own room and pay for it. 
 We got into town about three o'clock in the 
 afternoon, and the train left at midnight. 
 
 I had gone to my room, and Jerrine and 
 myself were enjoying a good rest after our 
 fatiguing drive, when my door was thrown 
 open and a very angry Aggie strode in. They 
 asked us fifty cents each for our rooms. Aggie 
 127 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 paid hers under protest and afterward got to 
 wondering how long she was entitled to its 
 use. She had gone back to the clerk about it, 
 and he had told her for that night only. She 
 argued that she should have her room for a 
 quarter, as she would only use it until mid- 
 night. When that failed, she asked for her 
 money back, but the clerk was out of patience 
 and refused her that. Aggie was angry all 
 through. She vowed she was being robbed. 
 After she had berated me soundly for submit- 
 ting so tamely, she flounced back to her own 
 room, declaring she would get even with the 
 robbers. I had to hurry like everything that 
 night to get myself and Jerrine ready for the 
 train, so I could spare no time for Aggie. She 
 was not at the depot, and Jerrine and I had 
 to go on to Rock Springs without her. It is 
 only a couple of hours from Green River to 
 Rock Springs, so I had a good nap and a late 
 breakfast. I did my shopping and was back 
 at Green River at two that afternoon. The 
 first person I saw was Aggie. She sat in the 
 128 
 
A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 depot, glowering at everybody. She had a 
 basket of eggs and a pail of butter, which she 
 had been trying to sell. She was waiting for 
 the night train, the only one she could get to 
 Rock Springs. I asked her had she overslept. 
 "No, I didna," she replied. Then, she pro- 
 ceeded to tell me that, as she had paid for a 
 whole night's use of a room, she had stayed 
 to get its use. That it had made her plans 
 miscarry did n't seem to count. 
 
 After all our business was attended to, we 
 started for home. The wagons were half a 
 day ahead of us. When we came in sight, 
 we could see Aggie fanning the air with her 
 long arms, and we knew they were quarrel- 
 ing. I remarked that I could not understand 
 how persons who hated each other so could 
 live together. Clyde told me I had much 
 to learn, and said that really he knew of no 
 other couple who were actually so devoted. 
 He said to prove it I should ask Aggie into 
 the buggy with me and he would get in with 
 Archie, and afterwards we would compare 
 129 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 notes. He drove up alongside of them, and 
 Aggie seemed glad to make the exchange. 
 As we had the buggy, we drove ahead of the 
 wagons. It seems that Archie and Aggie are 
 each jealous of the other. Archie is as ugly 
 a little monkey as it would be possible to 
 imagine. She bemeaned him until at last I 
 asked her why she did n't leave him, and 
 added that I would not stand such cranki- 
 ness for one moment. Then she poured out 
 the vials of her wrath upon my head, only I 
 don't think they were vials but barrels. 
 
 About sundown we made it to where we 
 intended to camp and found that Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy had established a sheep-camp 
 there, and was out with her herd herself, 
 having only Manny, a Mexican boy she had 
 brought up herself, for a herder. She wel- 
 comed us cordially and began supper for our 
 entire bunch. Soon the wagons came, and all 
 was confusion for a few minutes getting the 
 horses put away for the night. Aggie went 
 to her wagon as soon as it stopped and made 
 130 
 
A CONTENTED COUPLE 
 
 secure her butter and eggs against a possible 
 raid by Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. Having asked 
 too high a price for them, she had failed to 
 sell them and was taking them back. After 
 supper we were sitting around the fire, Tarn 
 going over his account and lamenting that 
 because of his absent-mindedness he had 
 bought a whole hundred pounds of sugar 
 more than he had intended, Aggie and 
 Archie silent for once, pouting I suspect. 
 Clyde smiled across the camp-fire at me and 
 said, " Gin ye had sic a lass as I hae, ye might 
 blither." ''Gin ye had sic a mon as mine — " 
 I began, but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said, "Gin 
 ye had sic a mon as I hae." Then we all 
 three laughed, for we had each heard the 
 same thing, and we knew the McEttricks 
 would n't fight each other. They suspected 
 us of laughing at them, for Archie said to 
 Aggie, "Aggie, lass, is it sport they are mak- 
 ing of our love? " " 'T is daft they be, Archie, 
 lad; we'll nae mind their blither." She arose 
 and shambled across to Archie and hunkered 
 131 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 her big self down beside him. We went to 
 bed and left them peaceable for once. 
 
 I am really ashamed of the way I have 
 treated you, but I know you will forgive me. 
 I am not strong yet, and my eyes are still 
 bothering me, but I hope to be all right soon 
 now, and I promise you a better letter next 
 time. Jerrine is very proud of her necklace. 
 I think they are so nice for children. I can 
 remember how proud I was of mine when I 
 was a child. Please give your brother our 
 thanks, and tell him his little gift made my 
 little girl very happy. 
 
 I am afraid this letter will seem rather 
 jumbled. I still want the address of your 
 friend in Salem or any other. I shall find 
 time to write, and I am not going to let my 
 baby prevent me from having many enjoy- 
 able outings. We call our boy Henry Clyde 
 for his father. He is a dear little thing, but 
 he is a lusty yeller for baby's rights. 
 With much love, 
 
 Jerrine and her Mamma. 
 
XIII 
 
 PROVING UP 
 
 October 14, 191 1. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 I think you must be expecting an answer 
 to your letter by now, so I will try to answer 
 as many of your questions as I remember. 
 Your letter has been mislaid. We have been 
 very much rushed all this week. We had the 
 thresher crew two days. I was busy cooking 
 for them two days before they came, and 
 have been busy ever since cleaning up after 
 them. Clyde has taken the thresher on up 
 the valley to thresh for the neighbors, and 
 all the men have gone along, so the children 
 and I are alone. No, I shall not lose my land, 
 although it will be over two years before I 
 can get a deed to it. The five years in which 
 I am required to "prove up " will have passed 
 by then. I could n't have held my homestead 
 133 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 if Clyde had also been proving up, but he 
 had accomplished that years ago and has his 
 deed, so I am allowed my homestead. Also 
 I have not yet used my desert right, so I am 
 still entitled to one hundred and sixty acres 
 more. I shall file on that much some day 
 when I have sufficient money of my own 
 earning. The law requires a cash payment of 
 twenty- five cents per acre at the filing, and 
 one dollar more per acre when final proof is 
 made. I should not have married if Clyde 
 had not promised I should meet all my land 
 difficulties unaided. I wanted the fun and 
 the experience. For that reason I want to 
 earn every cent that goes into my own land 
 and improvements myself. Sometimes I al- 
 most have a brain-storm wondering how I 
 am going to do it, but I know I shall succeed ; 
 other women have succeeded. I know of 
 several who are now where they can laugh 
 at past trials. Do you know? — I am a firm 
 believer in laughter. I am real superstitious 
 about it. I think if Bad Luck came along, he 
 134 
 
PROVING UP 
 
 would take to his heels if some one laughed 
 right loudly. 
 
 I think Jerrine must be born for the law. 
 She always threshes out questions that 
 arise, to her own satisfaction, if to no one 
 else's. She prayed for a long time for her 
 brother; also she prayed for some puppies. 
 The puppies came, but we did n't let her 
 know they were here until they were able to 
 walk. One morning she saw them following 
 their mother, so she danced for joy. When 
 her little brother came she was plainly dis- 
 appointed. "Mamma," she said, "did God 
 really make the baby?" "Yes, dear." "Then 
 He has n't treated us fairly, and I should 
 like to know why. The puppies could walk 
 when He finished them; the calves can, too. 
 The pigs can, and the colt, and even the 
 chickens. What is the use of giving us a half- 
 finished baby? He has no hair, and no teeth ; 
 he can't walk or talk, nor do anything else 
 but squall and sleep." 
 
 After many days she got the question 
 135 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 settled. She began right where she left off. 
 "I know, Mamma, why God gave us such 
 a half-finished baby; so he could learn our 
 ways, and no one else's, since he must live 
 with us, and so we could learn to love him. 
 Every time I stand beside his buggy he 
 laughs and then I love him, but I don't love 
 Stella nor Marvin because they laugh. So 
 that is why." Perhaps that is the reason. 
 
 Zebbie's kinsfolk have come and taken 
 him back to Yell County. I should not be 
 surprised if he never returned. The Lanes 
 and the Pattersons leave shortly for Idaho, 
 where "our Bobbie" has made some large 
 investments. 
 
 I hope to hear from you soon and that you 
 are enjoying every minute. With much love, 
 Your friend, 
 
 Elinore Stewart. 
 
XIV 
 
 THE NEW HOUSE 
 
 December I, 191 1. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 I feel just like visiting to-night, so I am 
 going to "play like" you have come. It is so 
 good to have you to chat with. Please be 
 seated in this low rocker; it is a present to 
 me from the Pattersons and I am very proud 
 of it. I am just back from the Patterson 
 ranch, and they have a dear little boy who 
 came the 20th of November and they call 
 him Robert Lane. 
 
 I am sure this room must look familiar to 
 you, for there is so much in it that was once 
 yours. I have two rooms, each fifteen by 
 fifteen, but this one on the south is my 
 "really" room and in it are my treasures. 
 My house faces east and is built up against 
 a side-hill, or should I say hillside? Anyway, 
 137 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 they had to excavate quite a lot. I had them 
 dump the dirt right before the house and 
 terrace it smoothly. I have sown my terrace 
 to California poppies, and around my porch, 
 which is six feet wide and thirty long, I have 
 planted wild cucumbers. 
 
 Every log in my house is as straight as a 
 pine can grow. Each room has a window and 
 a door on the east side, and the south room 
 has two windows on the south with space 
 between for my heater, which is one of those 
 with a grate front so I can see the fire burn. 
 It is almost as good as a fireplace. The logs 
 are unhewed outside because I like the rough 
 finish, but inside the walls are perfectly 
 square and smooth. The cracks in the walls 
 are snugly filled with "daubing" and then 
 the walls are covered with heavy gray 
 building-paper, which makes the room very 
 warm, and I really like the appearance. I 
 had two rolls of wall-paper with a bold rose 
 pattern. By being very careful I was able to 
 cut out enough of the roses, which are divided 
 138 
 
' 
 
 THE STEWART CABIN 
 
THE NEW HOUSE 
 
 in their choice of color as to whether they 
 should be red, yellow, or pink, to make a bor- 
 der about eighteen inches from the ceiling. 
 They brighten up the wall and the gray paper 
 is fine to hang pictures upon. Those you 
 have sent us make our room very attractive. 
 The woodwork is stained a walnut brown, 
 oil finish, and the floor is stained and oiled 
 just like it. In the corners by the stove and 
 before the windows we take our comfort. 
 
 From some broken bamboo fishing-rods I 
 made frames for two screens. These I painted 
 black with some paint that was left from the 
 buggy, and Gavotte fixed the screens so they 
 will stay balanced, and put in casters forme. 
 I had a piece of blue curtain calico and with 
 brass-headed tacks I put it on the frame of 
 Jerrine's screen, then I mixed some paste 
 and let her decorate it to suit herself on 
 the side that should be next her corner. She 
 used the cards you sent her. Some of the 
 people have a suspiciously tottering appear- 
 ance, perhaps not so very artistic, but they 
 139 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 all mean something to a little girl whose 
 small fingers worked patiently to attain sat- 
 isfactory results. She has a set of shelves on 
 which her treasures of china are arranged. 
 On the floor is a rug made of two goatskins 
 dyed black, a present from Gavotte, who 
 heard her admiring Zebbie's bearskin. She 
 has a tiny red rocking-chair which she has 
 outgrown, but her rather dilapidated family 
 of dolls use it for an automobile. For a seat 
 for herself she has a small hassock that you 
 gave me, and behind the blue screen is a 
 world apart. 
 
 My screen is made just like Jerrine's ex- 
 cept that the cover is cream material with 
 sprays of wild roses over it. In my corner I 
 have a cot made up like a couch. One of my 
 pillows is covered with some checked ging- 
 ham that "Dawsie" cross-stitched for me. 
 I have a cabinet bookcase made from an old 
 walnut bedstead that was a relic of the Moun- 
 tain Meadow Massacre. Gavotte made it for 
 me. In it I have my few books, some odds 
 140 
 
THE NEW HOUSE 
 
 and ends of china, all gifts, and a few fossil 
 curios. For a floor-covering I have a braided 
 rug of blue and white, made from old sheets 
 and Jerrine's old dresses. In the center of 
 my room is a square table made of pine and 
 stained brown. Over it is a table-cover that 
 you gave me. Against the wall near my bed 
 is my "dresser." It is a box with shelves 
 and is covered with the same material as my 
 screen. Above it I have a mirror, but it 
 makes ugly faces at me every time I look 
 into it. Upon the wall near by is a match- 
 holder that you gave me. It is the heads of 
 two fisher-folk. The man has lost his nose, 
 but the old lady still thrusts out her tongue. 
 The material on my screen and "dresser" I 
 bought for curtains, then decided to use some 
 white crossbar I had. But I wish I had not, 
 for every time I look at them I think of poor 
 little Mary Ann Parker. 
 
 I am going to make you a cup of tea and 
 wonder if you will see anything familiar 
 about the teapot. You should, I think, for it 
 141 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 is another of your many gifts to me. Now 
 I feel that you have a fairly good idea of 
 what my house looks like, on the inside any- 
 way. The magazines and Jerrine's cards and 
 Mother Goose book came long ago, and Jer- 
 rine and I were both made happy. I wish 
 I could do nice things for you, but all I can 
 do is to love you. 
 
 Your sincere friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert. 
 
XV 
 
 THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 
 
 February, 19 12. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 . . . This time I want to tell you about a 
 "stocking-leg" dinner which I attended not 
 long ago. It does n't sound very respectable, 
 but it was one of the happiest events I ever 
 remember. 
 
 Mrs. Louderer was here visiting us, and 
 one afternoon we were all in the kitchen 
 when Gavotte came skimming along on the 
 first pair of snowshoes I ever saw. We have 
 had lots of snow this winter, and many of the 
 hollows and gullies are packed full. Gavotte 
 had no difficulty in coming, and he had come 
 for the mail and to invite us to a feast of "ze 
 hose." I could not think what kind of a 
 dinner it could be, and I did not believe that 
 Mr. Stewart would go, but after Gavotte 
 143 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 had explained how much easier it was now 
 than at any other time because the hard- 
 packed snow made it possible to go with 
 bobsleds, I knew he would go. I can't say I 
 really wanted to go, but Mrs. Louderer took 
 it for granted that it would be delightful, so 
 she and Mr. Stewart did the planning. Next 
 morning Gavotte met Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 and invited her. Then, taking the mail, he 
 went on ahead to blaze a trail we should 
 follow with the sleds. We were to start two 
 days later. They planned we could easily 
 make the trip in a day, as, with the gulches 
 filled with snow, short cuts were possible, 
 and we could travel at a good pace, as we 
 would have a strong team. To me it seemed 
 dangerous, but dinner-parties have not been 
 so plenty that I could miss one. So, when the 
 day came on which we were to start, we were 
 up betimes and had a mess-box packed and 
 Mr. Stewart had a big pile of rocks hot. We 
 all wore our warmest clothes, and the rest 
 carried out hot rocks and blankets while I 
 144 
 
THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 
 
 put the kitchen in such order that the men 
 left to feed the stock would have no trouble 
 in getting their meals. Mr. Stewart carried 
 out the mess-box, and presently we were off. 
 We had a wagon-box on bobsleds, and the 
 box was filled with hay and hot rocks with 
 blankets on top and more to cover us. Mr. 
 Stewart had two big bags of grain in front, 
 feed for the horses, and he sat on them. 
 
 It was a beautiful day and we jogged along 
 merrily. We had lots of fun, and as we went 
 a new way, there was much that was new to 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and myself, and it was 
 all new to the rest. Gavotte had told us 
 where we should noon, and we reached the 
 place shortly after twelve. Mr. Stewart 
 went to lift out the mess-box, — but he had 
 forgotten to put it in! Oh, dear! We were 
 a disappointed lot. I don't think I was ever 
 so hungry, but there was nothing for it but 
 to grin and bear it. It did me some good, 
 though, to remember how a man misses his 
 dinner. The horses had to be fed, so we 
 145 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 walked about while they were eating. We 
 went up a canon that had high cliffs on one 
 side, and came to a place where, high up on 
 the rock wall, in great black letters, was this 
 legend: "Dick fell off of this here clift and 
 died." I should think there would be no 
 question that any one who fell from that 
 place on to the boulders below would die. 
 
 Soon we started again, and if not quite so 
 jolly as we were before, at least we looked 
 forward to our supper with a keen relish and 
 the horses were urged faster than they other- 
 wise would have been. The beautiful snow 
 is rather depressing, however, when there 
 is snow everywhere. The afternoon passed 
 swiftly and the horses were becoming jaded. 
 At four o'clock it was almost dark. We had 
 been going up a deep canon and came upon 
 an appalling sight. There had been a snow- 
 slide and the canon was half-filled with snow, 
 rock, and broken trees. The whole way was 
 blocked, and what to do we did n't know, for 
 the horses could hardly be gotten along and 
 146 
 
THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 
 
 we could not pass the snow-slide. We were 
 twenty-five miles from home, night was al- 
 most upon us, and we were almost starved. 
 But we were afraid to stay in that canon lest 
 more snow should slide and bury us, so sadly 
 we turned back to find as comfortable a 
 place as we could to spend the night. The 
 prospects were very discouraging, and I am 
 afraid we were all near tears, when suddenly 
 there came upon the cold air a clear blast 
 from a horn. Mrs. Louderer cried, " Ach, der 
 reveille!" Once I heard a lecturer tell of 
 climbing the Matterhorn and the calls we 
 heard brought his story to mind. No music 
 could have been so beautiful. It soon became 
 apparent that we were being signaled ; so we 
 drove in the direction of the sound and found 
 ourselves going up a wide canon. We had 
 passed the mouth of it shortly before we 
 had come to the slide. Even the tired horses 
 took new courage, and every few moments a 
 sweet, clear call put new heart into us. Soon 
 we saw a light. We had to drive very slowly 
 147 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 and in places barely crept. The bugler 
 changed his notes and we knew he was won- 
 dering if we were coming, so Mr. Stewart 
 helloed. At once we had an answer, and 
 after that we were steadily guided by the 
 horn. Many times we could not see the light, 
 but we drove in the right direction because 
 we could hear the horn. 
 
 At last, when it was quite dark and the 
 horses could go no farther, we drew up before 
 the fire that had been our beacon light. It 
 was a bonfire built out upon a point of rock 
 at the end of the canon. Back from it among 
 the pines was a 'dobe house. A dried-up 
 mummy of a man advanced from the fire 
 to meet us, explaining that he had seen us 
 through his field-glasses and, knowing about 
 the snow-slide, had ventured to attract us 
 to his poor place. Carlota Juanita was 
 within, prepared for the senoras, if they 
 would but walk in. If they would! More 
 dead than alive, we scrambled out, cold- 
 stiffened and hungry. Carlota Juanita threw 
 148 
 
THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 
 
 open the low, wide door and we stumbled 
 into comfort. She hastened to help us off 
 with our wraps, piled more wood on the 
 open fire, and busied herself to make us 
 welcome and comfortable. Poor Carlota 
 Juanita! Perhaps you think she was some 
 slender, limpid-eyed, olive-cheeked beauty. 
 She was fat and forty, but not fair. She had 
 the biggest wad of hair that I ever saw, and 
 her face was so fat that her eyes looked 
 beady. She wore an old heelless pair of 
 slippers or sandals that would hardly stay 
 on, and at every step they made the most 
 exasperating sliding noise, but she was all 
 kindness and made us feel very welcome. 
 The floor was of dirt, and they had the lar- 
 gest fireplace I have ever seen, with the 
 widest, cleanest hearth, which was where 
 they did their cooking. All their furniture 
 was home-made, and on a low bench near the 
 door were three water-jars which, I am sure, 
 were handmade. Away back in a corner they 
 had a small altar, on which was a little statue 
 149 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 of Mary and the Child. Before it, suspended 
 by a wire from the rafters, was a cow's horn 
 in which a piece of punk was burning, just as 
 the incense is kept burning in churches. Sup- 
 per was already prepared and was simmering 
 and smoking on the hearth. As soon as the 
 men came in, Carlota Juanita put it on the 
 table, which was bare of cloth. I can't say 
 that I really like Mexican bread, but they 
 certainly know how to cook meat. They had 
 a most wonderful pot-roast with potatoes and 
 corn dumplings that were delicious. The roast 
 had been slashed in places and small bits of 
 garlic, pepper, bacon, and, I think, parsley, 
 inserted. After it and the potatoes and the 
 dumplings were done, Carlota had poured 
 in a can of tomatoes. You may not think 
 that was good, but I can assure you it was 
 and that we did ample justice to it. After 
 we had eaten until we were hardly able to 
 swallow, Carlota Juanita served a queer 
 Mexican pie. It was made of dried buffalo- 
 berries, stewed and made very sweet. A 
 150 
 
THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 
 
 layer of batter had been poured into a deep 
 baking-dish, then the berries, and then more 
 batter. Then it was baked and served hot 
 with plenty of hard sauce ; and it was power- 
 ful good, too. She had very peculiar coffee 
 with goat's milk in it. I took mine without 
 the milk, but I could n't make up my mind 
 that I liked the coffee. We sat around the 
 fire drinking it, when Manuel Pedro Felipe 
 told us it was some he had brought from 
 Mexico. I did n't know they raised it there, 
 but he told us many interesting things about 
 it. He and Carlota Juanita both spoke 
 fairly good English. They had lived for 
 many years in their present home and had 
 some sheep, a few goats, a cow or two, a few 
 pigs, and chickens and turkeys. They had a 
 small patch of land that Carlota Juanita 
 tilled and on which was raised the squaw 
 corn that hung in bunches from the rafters. 
 Down where we live we can't get sweet corn 
 to mature, but here, so much higher up, they 
 have a sheltered little nook where they are 
 151 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 able to raise many things. Upon a long shelf 
 above the fire was an ugly old stone image, 
 the bottom broken off and some plaster 
 applied to make it set level. The ugly thing 
 they had brought with them from some old 
 ruined temple in Mexico. We were all so 
 very tired that soon Carlota Juanita brought 
 out an armful of the thickest, brightest rugs 
 and spread them over the floor for us to sleep 
 upon. The men retired to a lean-to room, 
 where they slept, but not before Manuel 
 Pedro Felipe and Carlota had knelt be- 
 fore their altar for their devotions. Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy and myself and Jerrine, 
 knowing the rosary, surprised them by 
 kneeling with them. It is good to meet with 
 kindred faith away off in the mountains. It 
 seems there could not possibly be a mistake 
 when people so far away from creeds and 
 doctrines hold to the faith of their child- 
 hood and find the practice a pleasure after 
 so many years. The men bade us good- 
 night, and we lost no time in settling our- 
 152 
 
THE "STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 
 
 selves to rest. Luckily we had plenty of 
 blankets. 
 
 Away in the night I was awakened by a 
 noise that frightened me. All was still, but 
 instantly there flashed through my mind 
 tales of murdered travelers, and I was al- 
 most paralyzed with fear when again I heard 
 that stealthy, sliding noise, just like Carlota 
 Juanita's old slippers. The fire had burned 
 down, but just then the moon came from 
 behind a cloud and shone through the win- 
 dow upon Carlota Juanita, who was asleep 
 with her mouth open. I could also see a pine 
 bough which was scraping against the wall 
 outside, which was perhaps making the noise. 
 I turned over and saw the punk burning, 
 which cast a dim light over the serene face 
 of the Blessed Virgin, so all fear vanished 
 and I slept as long as they would let me in 
 the morning. After a breakfast of tortillas, 
 cheese, and rancid butter, and some more of 
 the coffee, we started again for the stocking- 
 leg dinner. Carlota Juanita stood in the 
 153 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 door, waving to us as long as we could see 
 her, and Manuel P. F. sat with Mr. Stewart 
 to guide us around the snow-slide. Under 
 one arm he carried the horn with which he 
 had called us to him. It came from some 
 long-horned cow in Mexico, was beautifully 
 polished, and had a fancy rim of silver. I 
 should like to own it, but I could not make 
 it produce a sound. When we were safe on 
 our way our guide left us, and our spirits 
 ran high again. The horses were feeling 
 good also, so it was a merry, laughing party 
 that drew up before Zebbie's two hours 
 later. 
 
 Long before I had lent Gavotte a set of 
 the Leather-Stocking Tales, which he had 
 read aloud to Zebbie. Together they had 
 planned a Leather-Stocking dinner, at which 
 should be served as many of the viands men- 
 tioned in the Tales as possible. We stayed 
 two days and it was one long feast. We had 
 venison served in half a dozen different ways. 
 We had antelope; we had porcupine, or 
 154 
 
THE -STOCKING-LEG" DINNER 
 
 hedgehog, as Pathfinder called it; and also 
 we had beaver- tail, which he found tooth- 
 some, but which I did not. We had grouse 
 and sage hen. They broke the ice and 
 snared a lot of trout. In their cellar they 
 had a barrel of trout prepared exactly like 
 mackerel, and they were more delicious than 
 mackerel because they were finer-grained. 
 I had been a little disappointed in Zebbie 
 after his return from home. It seemed to me 
 that Pauline had spoiled him. I guess I was 
 jealous. This time he was the same little old 
 Zebbie I had first seen. He seemed to thor- 
 oughly enjoy our visit, and I am sure we 
 each had the time of our lives. We made 
 it home without mishap the same day we 
 started, all of us sure life held something 
 new and enjoyable after all. 
 
 If nothing happens there are some more 
 good times in store for me this summer. 
 Gavotte once worked under Professor Mars- 
 den when he was out here getting fossils for 
 the Smithsonian Institution, and he is very 
 155 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 interesting to listen to. He has invited us to 
 go with him out to the Bad-Land hills in 
 the summer to search for fossils. The hills 
 are only a few miles from here and I look 
 forward to a splendid time. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 [No date.] 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 ... I am so afraid that you will get an 
 overdose of culture from your visit to the 
 Hub and am sending you an antidote of our 
 sage, sand, and sunshine. 
 
 Mrs. Louderer had come over to see our 
 boy. Together we had prepared supper and 
 were waiting for Clyde, who had gone to the 
 post-office. Soon he came, and after the 
 usual friendly wrangling between him and 
 Mrs. Louderer we had supper. Then they 
 began their inevitable game of cribbage, 
 while I sat near the fire with Baby on my lap. 
 Clyde was telling us of a raid on a ranch 
 about seventy- five miles away, in which the 
 thieves had driven off thirty head of fine 
 horses. There were only two of the thieves, 
 157 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 and the sheriff with a large posse was pursu- 
 ing them and forcing every man they came 
 across into the chase, and a regular man-hunt 
 was on. It was interesting only because one 
 of the thieves was a noted outlaw then out 
 on parole and known to be desperate. We 
 were in no way alarmed; the trouble was all 
 in the next county, and somehow that always 
 seems so far away. We knew if the men ever 
 came together there would be a pitched 
 battle, with bloodshed and death, but there 
 seemed little chance that the sheriff would 
 ever overtake the men. 
 
 I remember I was feeling sorry for the poor 
 fellows with a price on their heads, — the 
 little pink man on my lap had softened my 
 heart wonderfully. Jerrine was enjoying the 
 pictures in a paper illustrating early days on 
 the range, wild scenes of roping and brand- 
 ing. I had remarked that I did n't believe 
 there were any more such times, when Mrs. 
 Louderer replied, " Dot yust shows how much 
 it iss you do not know. You shall come to 
 158 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 mine house and when away you come it shall 
 be wiser as when you left." I had kept at 
 home very closely all summer, and a little 
 trip seemed the most desirable thing I could 
 think of, particularly as the baby would be 
 in no way endangered. But long ago I learned 
 that the quickest way to get what I want 
 is not to want it, outwardly, at least. So I 
 assumed an indifference that was not very 
 real. The result was that next morning every 
 one was in a hurry to get me started, — 
 Clyde greasing the little old wagon that looks 
 like a twin to Cora Belle's, and Mrs. Loud- 
 erer, who thinks no baby can be properly 
 brought up without goose-grease, busy greas- 
 ing the baby "so as he shall not some cold 
 take yet." Mrs. Louderer had ridden over, 
 so her saddle was laid in the wagon and her 
 pony, Bismarck, was hitched in with Chub, 
 the laziest horse in all Wyoming. I knew 
 Clyde could manage very well while I should 
 be gone, and there was n't a worry to inter- 
 fere with the pleasure of my outing. 
 159 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 We jogged along right merrily, Mrs. 
 Louderer devoting her entire attention to 
 trying to make Chub pull even with Bis- 
 marck, Jerrine and myself enjoying the ever- 
 changing views. I wish I could lay it all 
 before you. Summer was departing with 
 reluctant feet, unafraid of Winter's messen- 
 gers, the chill winds. That day was especially 
 beautiful. The gleaming snow peaks and 
 heavy forest south and at our back; west, 
 north, and east, long, broken lines of the dis- 
 tant mountains with their blue haze. Pilot 
 Butte to the north, one hundred miles away, 
 stood out clear and distinct as though we 
 could drive there in an hour or two. The 
 dull, neutral-colored " Bad Land " hills nearer 
 us are interesting only because we know 
 they are full of the fossil remains of strange 
 creatures long since extinct. 
 
 For a distance our way lay up Henry's 
 
 Fork valley ; prosperous little ranches dotted 
 
 the view, ripening grain rustled pleasantly in 
 
 the warm morning sunshine, and closely cut 
 
 160 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 alfalfa fields made bright spots of emerald 
 against the dun landscape. The quaking 
 aspens were just beginning to turn yellow; 
 everywhere purple asters were a blaze of 
 glory except where the rabbit-bush grew in 
 clumps, waving its feathery plumes of gold. 
 Over it all the sky was so deeply blue, with 
 little, airy, white clouds drifting lazily along. 
 Even 7 breeze brought scents of cedar, pine, 
 and sage. At this point the road wound 
 along the base of cedar hills; some magpies 
 were holding a noisy caucus among the trees, 
 a pair of bluebirds twittered excitedly upon 
 a fence, and high overhead a great black 
 eagle soared. All was so peaceful that horse- 
 thieves and desperate men seemed too remote 
 to think about. 
 
 Presently we crossed the creek and headed 
 our course due north toward the desert and 
 the buttes. I saw that we were not going 
 right to reach Mrs. Louderer's ranch, so I 
 asked where we were supposed to be going. 
 "We iss going to the mouth of Dry Creek by, 
 161 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 where it goes Black's Fork into. Dere mine 
 punchers holdts five huntert steers. We shall 
 de camp visit and you shall come back wiser 
 as when you went." 
 
 Well, we both came away wiser. I had 
 thought we were going only to the Louderer 
 ranch, so I put up no lunch, and there was 
 nothing for the horses either. But it was too 
 beautiful a time to let such things annoy us. 
 Anyway, we expected to reach camp just 
 after noon, so a little delay about dinner 
 did n't seem so bad. We had entered the 
 desert by noon; the warm, red sands fell 
 away from the wheels with soft, hissing 
 sounds. Occasionally a little horned toad 
 sped panting along before us, suddenly dart- 
 ing aside to watch with bright, cunning eyes 
 as we passed. Some one had placed a. buf- 
 falo's skull beside a big bunch of sage and on 
 the sage a splendid pair of elk's antlers. We 
 saw many such scattered over the sands, 
 grim reminders of a past forever gone. 
 
 About three o'clock we reached our desti- 
 162 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 nation, but no camp was there. We were 
 more disappointed than I can tell you, but 
 Mrs. Louderer merely went down to the 
 river, a few yards away, and cut an armful of 
 willow sticks wherewith to coax Chub to a 
 little brisker pace, and then we took the trail 
 of the departed mess-wagon. Shortly, we 
 topped a low range of hills, and beyond, in a 
 cuplike valley, was the herd of sleek beauties 
 feeding contentedly on the lush green grass. 
 I suppose it sounds odd to hear desert and 
 river in the same breath, but within a few 
 feet of the river the desert begins, where 
 nothing grows but sage and grease wood. In 
 oasis-like spots will be found plenty of grass 
 where the soil is nearer the surface and where 
 sub-irrigation keeps the roots watered. In 
 one of these spots the herd was being held. 
 When the grass became short they would be 
 moved to another such place. 
 
 It required, altogether, fifteen men to take 
 care of the herd, because many of the cattle 
 had been bought in different places, some in 
 163 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Utah, and these were always trying to run 
 away and work back toward home, so they 
 required constant herding. Soon we caught 
 the glimmer of white canvas, and knew it 
 was the cover of the mess- wagon, so we 
 headed that way. 
 
 The camp was quite near the river so as 
 to be handy to water and to have the willows 
 for wood. Not a soul was at camp. The 
 fire was out, and even the ashes had blown 
 away. The mess-box was locked and Mrs. 
 Louderer's loud calls brought only echoes 
 from the high rock walls across the river. 
 However, there was nothing to do but to 
 make the best of it, so we tethered the horses 
 and went down to the river to relieve our- 
 selves of the dust that seemed determined to 
 unite with the dust that we were made of. 
 Mrs. Louderer declared she was "so mat as 
 nodings and would fire dot Herman so soon 
 as she could see him alreaty." 
 
 Presently we saw the most grotesque fig- 
 ure approaching camp. It was Herman, the 
 164 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 fat cook, on Hunks, a gaunt, ugly old horse, 
 whose days of usefulness under the saddle 
 were past and who had degenerated into a 
 workhorse. The disgrace of it seemed to 
 be driving him into a decline, but he stum- 
 bled along bravely under his heavy load. A 
 string of a dozen sage chickens swung on 
 one side, and across the saddle in front of 
 Herman lay a young antelope. A volley of 
 German abuse was hurled at poor Herman, 
 wound up in as plain American as Mrs. 
 Louderer could speak: "And who iss going 
 to pay de game warden de fine of dot ante- 
 lope what you haf shot? And how iss it that 
 we haf come de camp by und so starved as 
 we iss hungry, and no cook und no food? Iss 
 dat for why you iss paid?" 
 
 Herman was some Dutch himself, however. 
 "How iss it," he demanded, "dat you haf 
 not so much sense as you haf tongue? How 
 haf you lived so long as always in de West 
 und don't know enough to hunt a bean-hole 
 when you reach your own camp. Hey?" 
 165 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Mrs. Louderer was very properly subdued 
 and I delighted when he removed the stones 
 from where the fire had been, exposing a pit 
 from which, with a pair of pot-hooks, he 
 lifted pots and ovens of the most delicious 
 meat, beans, and potatoes. From the mess- 
 box he brought bread and apricot pie. From 
 a near-by spring he brought us a bright, new 
 pail full of clear, sparkling water, but Mrs. 
 Louderer insisted upon tea and in a short 
 time he had it ready for us. The tarpaulin 
 was spread on the ground for us to eat from, 
 and soon we were showing an astonished 
 cook just how much food two women and a 
 child could get away with. I ate a good deal 
 of ashes with my roast beef and we all ate 
 more or less sand, but fastidiousness about 
 food is a good thing to get rid of when you 
 come West to camp. 
 
 When the regular supper-time arrived the 
 
 punchers began to gather in, and the "boss," 
 
 who had been to town about some business, 
 
 came in and brought back the news of the 
 
 1 66 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 man-hunt. The punchers sat about the fire, 
 eating hungrily from their tin plates and 
 eagerly listening to the recital. Two of the 
 boys were tenderfeet: one from Tennessee 
 called " Daisy Belle," because he whistled 
 that tune so much and because he had 
 nose-bleed so much, — could n't even ride a 
 broncho but his nose would bleed for hours 
 afterwards; and the other, "N'Yawk," so 
 called from his native State. N'Yawk was a 
 great boaster; said he wasn't afraid of no 
 durned outlaw, — said his father had waded 
 in bloody gore up to his neck and that he 
 was a chip off the old block, — rather hoped 
 the chase would come our way so he could 
 try his marksmanship. 
 
 The air began to grow chill and the sky 
 was becoming overcast. Preparations for the 
 night busied everybody. Fresh ponies were 
 being saddled for the night relief, the hard- 
 ridden, tired ones that had been used that 
 day being turned loose to graze. Some poles 
 were set up and a tarpaulin arranged for 
 167 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Mrs. Louderer and me to sleep under. Mrs. 
 Louderer and Jerrine lay down on some 
 blankets and I unrolled some more, which I 
 was glad to notice were clean, for Baby and 
 myself. I can't remember ever being more 
 tired and sleepy, but I could n't go to sleep. 
 I could hear the boss giving orders in quick, 
 decisive tones. I could hear the punchers 
 discussing the raid, finally each of them tell- 
 ing exploits of his favorite heroes of out- 
 lawry. I could hear Herman, busy among 
 his pots and pans. Then he mounted the 
 tongue of the mess-wagon and called out, 
 "We haf for breakfast cackle-berries, first 
 vot iss come iss served, und those vot iss 
 sleep late gets nodings." 
 
 I had never before heard of cackle-berries 
 and asked sleepy Mrs. Louderer what they 
 were. "Vait until morning and you shall 
 see," was all the information that I received. 
 
 Soon a gentle, drizzling rain began, and 
 the punchers hurriedly made their beds, as 
 they did so twitting N'Yawk about making 
 1 68 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 his between our tent and the fire. "You're 
 dead right, pard," I heard one of them say, 
 "to make your bed there, fer if them outlaws 
 comes this way they'll think you air one of 
 the women and they won't shoot you. Just 
 us men air in danger." 
 
 "Confound your fool tongues, how they 
 goin' to know there's any women here? I 
 tell you, fellers, my old man waded in bloody 
 gore up to his neck and I 'm just like him." 
 
 They kept up this friendly parleying until 
 I dozed off to sleep, but I could n't stay 
 asleep. I don't think I was afraid, but I cer- 
 tainly was nervous. The river was making a 
 sad, moaning sound; the rain fell gently, like 
 tears. All nature seemed to be mourning 
 about something, happened or going to hap- 
 pen. Down by the river an owl hooted dis- 
 mally. Half a mile away the night-herders 
 were riding round and round the herd. One 
 of them was singing, — faint but distinct 
 came his song: "Bury me not on the lone 
 prairie." Over and over again he sang it. 
 169 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 After a short interval of silence he began 
 again. This time it was, "I'm thinking of 
 my dear old mother, ten thousand miles 
 away." 
 
 Two punchers stirred uneasily and began 
 talking. " Blast that Tex," I heard one of 
 them say, "he certainly has it bad to-night. 
 What the deuce makes him sing so much? I 
 feel like bawling like a kid ; I wish he 'd shut 
 up." "He's homesick; I guess we all are too, 
 but they ain't no use staying awake and let- 
 ting it soak in. Shake the water off the tarp, 
 you air lettin' water catch on your side an' 
 it's running into my ear." 
 
 That is the last I heard for a long time. I 
 must have slept. I remember that the baby 
 stirred and I spoke to him. It seemed to me 
 that something struck against the guy-rope 
 that held our tarpaulin taut, but I was n't 
 sure. I was in that dozy state, half asleep, 
 when nothing is quite clear. It seemed as 
 though I had been listening to the tramp of 
 feet for hours and that a whole army must 
 170 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 be filing past, when I was brought suddenly 
 into keen consciousness by a loud voice 
 demanding, "Hello! Whose outfit is this?" 
 "This is the 7 Up, — Louderer's," the boss 
 called back; "what's wanted?" "Is that 
 you, Mat? This is Ward's posse. We been 
 after Meeks and Murdock all night. It's so 
 durned dark we can't see, but we got to keep 
 going; their horses are about played. We 
 changed at Hadley's, but we ain't had a bite 
 to eat and we got to search your camp." 
 "Sure thing," the boss answered, "roll off 
 and take a look. Hi, there, you Herm, get 
 out of there and fix these fellers something 
 to eat." 
 
 We were surrounded. I could hear the 
 clanking of spurs and the sound of the wet, 
 tired horses shaking themselves and rattling 
 the saddles on every side. "Who's in the 
 wickiup?" I heard the sheriff ask. "Some 
 women and kids, — Mrs. Louderer and a 
 friend." 
 
 In an incredibly short time Herman had a 
 171 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 fire coaxed into a blaze and Mat Watson and 
 the sheriff went from bed to bed with a lan- 
 tern. They searched the mess-wagon, even, 
 although Herman had been sleeping there. 
 The sheriff unceremoniously flung out the 
 wood and kindling the cook had stored there. 
 He threw back the flap of our tent and flashed 
 the lantern about. He could see plainly 
 enough that there were but the four of us, 
 but I wondered how they saw outside where 
 the rain made it worse, the lantern was so 
 dirty. ' ' Yes, ' ' I heard the sheriff say, ' ' we ' ve 
 been pushing them hard. They're headed 
 north, evidently intend to hit the railroad 
 but they '11 never make it. Every ford on the 
 river is guarded except right along here, and 
 there 's five parties ranging on the other side. 
 My party 's split, — a bunch has gone on to 
 the bridge. If they find anything they 're to 
 fire a volley. Same with us. I knew they 
 could n't cross the river nowhere but at the 
 bridge or here." 
 The men had gathered about the fire and 
 172 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 were gulping hot coffee and cold beef and 
 bread. The rain ran off their slickers in little 
 rivulets. I was sorry the fire was not better, 
 because some of the men had on only ordi- 
 nary coats, and the drizzling rain seemed 
 determined that the fire should not blaze 
 high. 
 
 Before they had finished eating we heard 
 a shot, followed by a regular medley of dull 
 booms. The men were in their saddles and 
 gone in less time than it takes to tell it. The 
 firing had ceased save for a few sharp reports 
 from the revolvers, like a coyote's spiteful 
 snapping. The pounding of the horse's hoofs 
 grew fainter, and soon all was still. I kept 
 my ears strained for the slightest sound. The 
 cook and the boss, the only men up, hurried 
 back to bed. Watson had risen so hurriedly 
 that he had not been careful about his 
 "tarp" and water had run into his bed. But 
 that would n't disconcert anybody but a 
 tenderfoot. I kept waiting in tense silence 
 to hear them come back with dead or 
 173 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 wounded, but there was not a sound. The 
 rain had stopped. Mrs. Louderer struck a 
 match and said it was three o'clock. Soon she 
 was asleep. Through a rift in the clouds a 
 star peeped out. I could smell the wet sage 
 and the sand. A little breeze came by, 
 bringing Tex's song once more: — 
 
 "Oh, it matters not, so I've been told, 
 How the body lies when the heart grows cold." 
 
 Oh, dear! the world seemed so full of sad- 
 ness. I kissed my baby's little downy head 
 and went to sleep. 
 
 It seems that cowboys are rather sleepy- 
 headed in the morning and it is a part of the 
 cook's job to get them up. The next I knew, 
 Herman had a tin pan on which he was beat- 
 ing a vigorous tattoo, all the time hollering, 
 "We haf cackle-berries und antelope steak 
 for breakfast." The baby was startled by the 
 noise, so I attended to him and then dressed 
 myself for breakfast. I went down to the 
 little spring to wash my face. The morn- 
 ing was lowering and gray, but a wind had 
 174 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 sprung up and the clouds were parting. There 
 are times when anticipation is a great deal 
 better than realization. Never having seen 
 a cackle-berry, my imagination pictured 
 them as some very luscious wild fruit, and 
 I was so afraid none would be left that I 
 could n't wait until the men should eat and 
 be gone. So I surprised them by joining the 
 very earliest about the fire. Herman began 
 serving breakfast. I held out my tin plate 
 and received some of the steak, an egg, and 
 two delicious biscuits. We had our coffee in 
 big enameled cups, without sugar or cream, 
 but it was piping hot and so good. I had 
 finished my egg and steak and so I told 
 Herman I was ready for my cackle-berries. 
 
 "Listen to her now, will you?" he asked. 
 And then indignantly, "How many cackle- 
 berries does you want? You haf had so many 
 as I haf cooked for you." "Why, Herman, I 
 have n't had a single berry," I said. Then 
 such a roar of laughter. Herman gazed at 
 me in astonishment, and Mr. Watson gently 
 175 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 explained to me that eggs and cackle-berries 
 were one and the same. 
 
 N'Yawk was not yet up, so Herman 
 walked over to his bed, kicked him a few 
 times, and told him he would scald him if he 
 did n't turn out. It was quite light by then. 
 N'Yawk joined us in a few minutes. "What 
 the deuce was you fellers kicking up such 
 a rumpus fer last night? " he asked. "You 
 blamed blockhead, don't you know?" the 
 boss answered. "Why, the sheriff searched 
 this camp last night. They had a battle 
 down at the bridge afterwards and either 
 they are all killed or else no one is hurt. 
 They would have been here otherwise. Ward 
 took a shot at them once yesterday, but I 
 guess he did n't hit ; the men got away, any- 
 way. And durn your sleepy head! you just 
 lay there and snored. Well, I '11 be danged!" 
 Words failed him, his wonder and disgust 
 were so great. 
 
 N'Yawk turned to get his breakfast. His 
 light shirt was blood-stained in the back, — 
 176 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 seemed to be soaked. "What 's the matter 
 with your shirt, it's soaked with blood?" 
 some one asked. "Then that durned Daisy 
 Belle has been crawling in with me, that's 
 all," he said. "Blame his bleeding snoot. 
 I'll punch it and give it something to bleed 
 for." 
 
 Then Mr. Watson said, "Daisy ain't been 
 in all night. He took Jesse's place when he 
 went to town after supper." That started 
 an inquiry and search which speedily showed 
 that some one with a bleeding wound had 
 gotten in with N'Yawk. It also developed 
 that Mr. Watson's splendid horse and saddle 
 were gone, the rope that the horse had been 
 picketed with lying just as it had been cut 
 from his neck. 
 
 Now all was bustle and excitement. It was 
 plainly evident that one of the outlaws had 
 lain hidden on N' Yawk's bed while the sheriff 
 was there, and that afterwards he had sad- 
 dled the horse and made his escape. His own 
 horse was found in the willows, the saddle 
 177 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 cut loose and the bridle off, but the poor, 
 jaded thing had never moved. By sunup the 
 search-party returned, all too worn-out with 
 twenty-four hours in the saddle to continue 
 the hunt. They wer even too worn-out to 
 eat, but flung themselves down for a few 
 hours' rest. The chase was hopeless anyway, 
 for the search-party had gone north in the 
 night. The wounded outlaw had doubtless 
 heard the sheriff talking and, the coast being 
 clear to the southward, had got the fresh 
 horse and was by that time probably safe in 
 the heavy forests and mountains of Utah. 
 His getting in with N'Yawk had been a 
 daring ruse, but a successful one. Where his 
 partner was, no one could guess. But by 
 that time all the camp excepting Herman 
 and Mrs. Louderer were so panicky that we 
 could n't have made a rational suggestion. 
 
 N'Yawk, white around his mouth, ap- 
 proached Mrs. Louderer. "I want to quit," 
 he said. "Well," she said, calmly sipping her 
 coffee, "you haf done it." "I'm sick," he 
 178 
 
THE HORSE-THIEVES 
 
 stammered. "I know you iss," she said, "I 
 haf before now seen men get sick when they 
 iss scared to death." "My old daddy — "he 
 began. " Yes, I know, he waded the creek vone 
 time und you has hac^cold feet effer since." 
 
 Poor fellow, I felt sorry for him. I had cold 
 feet myself just then, and I was powerfully 
 anxious to warm them by my own fire where 
 a pair of calm blue eyes would reassure me. 
 
 I did n't get to see the branding that was 
 to have taken place on the range that day. 
 The boss insisted on taking the trail of 
 his valued horse. He was very angry. He 
 thought there was a traitor among the posse. 
 Who started the firing at the bridge no one 
 knew, and Watson said openly that it was 
 done to get the sheriff away from camp. 
 
 My own home looked mighty good to me 
 when we drove up that evening. I don't 
 want any more wild life on the range, — not 
 for a while, anyway. 
 
 Your ex-Washlady, 
 Elinore Rupert Stewart. 
 
XVII 
 
 AT GAVOTTE'S CAMP 
 
 November 16, 19 12. 
 
 My dear Friend, — 
 
 At last I can write you as I want to. I am 
 afraid you think I am going to wait until the 
 "bairns" are grown up before writing to my 
 friends, but indeed I shall not. I fully intend 
 to "gather roses while I may." Since God 
 has given me two blessings, children and 
 friends, I shall enjoy them both as I go 
 along. 
 
 I must tell you why I have not written as I 
 should have done. All summer long my eyes 
 were so strained and painful that I had to let 
 all reading and writing go. And I have suf- 
 fered terribly with my back. But now I am 
 able to be about again, do most of my own 
 work, and my eyes are much better. So now 
 I shall not treat you so badly again. If you 
 180 
 
GAVOTTE 
 
AT GAVOTTE'S CAMP 
 
 could only know how kind every one is to me, 
 you would know that even ill health has its 
 compensations out here. Dear Mrs. Lou- 
 derer, with her goose-grease, her bread, and 
 her delicious "kuchens." Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy, with her cheery ways, her tireless 
 friendship, and willing, capable hands. 
 Gavotte even, with his tidbits of game and 
 fish. Dear little Cora Belle came often to see 
 me, sometimes bringing me a little of Grand- 
 pa's latest cure, which I received on faith, 
 for, of course, I could not really swallow any 
 of it. Zebbie's nephew, Parker Carter, came 
 out, spent the summer with him, and they 
 have now gone back to Yell County, leaving 
 Gavotte in charge again. 
 
 Gavotte had a most interesting and pros- 
 perous summer. He was commissioned by a 
 wealthy Easterner to procure some fossils. 
 I had had such a confined summer that Clyde 
 took me out to Gavotte's camp as soon as I 
 was able to sit up and be driven. We found 
 him away over in the bad lands camped in a 
 181 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 fine little grove. He is a charming man to 
 visit at any time, and we found him in a par- 
 ticularly happy mood. He had just begun to 
 quarry a gigantic find ; he had piles of speci- 
 mens ; he had packed and shipped some rare 
 specimens of fossil plants, but his "beeg 
 find" came later and he was jubilant. To 
 dig fossils successfully requires great care 
 and knowledge, but it is a work in which 
 Gavotte excels. He is a splendid cook. I 
 almost believe he could make a Johnny Reb 
 like codfish, and that night we had a delicious 
 supper and all the time listening to a learned 
 discourse about prehistoric things. I enjoyed 
 the meal and I enjoyed the talk, but I could 
 not sleep peacefully for being chased in 
 my dreams by pterodactyls, dinosaurs, and 
 iguanodons, besides a great many horrible 
 creatures whose names I have forgotten. Of 
 course, when the ground begins to freeze and 
 snow comes, fossil-mining is done for until 
 summer comes, so Gavotte tends the critters 
 and traps this winter. I shall not get to go 
 182 
 
AT GAVOTTE'S CAMP 
 
 to the mountains this winter. The babies are 
 too small, but there is always some happy 
 and interesting thing happening, and I shall 
 have two pleasures each time, my own enjoy- 
 ment, and getting to tell you of them. 
 
XVIII 
 
 THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE AND A 
 LITTLE FUNERAL 
 
 December 2, 191 2. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 Every time I get a new letter from you I 
 get a new inspiration, and I am always glad 
 to hear from you. 
 
 I have often wished I might tell you all 
 about my Clyde, but have not because of 
 two things. One is I could not even begin 
 without telling you what a good man he is, 
 and I did n't want you to think I could do 
 nothing but brag. The other reason is the 
 haste I married in. I am ashamed of that. 
 I am afraid you will think me a Becky Sharp 
 of a person. But although I married in 
 haste, I have no cause to repent. That is 
 very fortunate because I have never had one 
 bit of leisure to repent in. So I am lucky all 
 184 
 
THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE 
 
 around. The engagement was powerfully 
 short because both agreed that the trend of 
 events and ranch work seemed to require 
 that we be married first and do our " spark- 
 ing" afterward. You see, we had to chink 
 in the wedding between times, that is, be- 
 tween planting the oats and other work that 
 must be done early or not at all. In Wyo- 
 ming ranchers can scarcely take time even 
 to be married in the springtime. That hav- 
 ing been settled, the license was sent for by 
 mail, and as soon as it came Mr. Stewart 
 saddled Chub and went down to the house of 
 Mr. Pearson, the justice of the peace and a 
 friend of long standing. I had never met any 
 of the family and naturally rather dreaded 
 to have them come, but Mr. Stewart was 
 firm in wanting to be married at home, so 
 he told Mr. Pearson he wanted him and his 
 family to come up the following Wednesday 
 and serve papers on the "wooman i' the 
 hoose." They were astonished, of course, 
 but being such good friends they promised 
 
 185 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 him all the assistance they could render. 
 They are quite the dearest, most interesting 
 family! I have since learned to love them 
 as my own. 
 
 Well, there was no time to make wedding 
 clothes, so I had to "do up" what I did have. 
 Is n't it queer how sometimes, do what you 
 can, work will keep getting in the way until 
 you can't get anything done? That is how 
 it was with me those few days before the 
 wedding; so much so that when Wednesday 
 dawned everything was topsy-turvy and I 
 had a very strong desire to run away. But 
 I always did hate a " piker," so I stood pat. 
 Well, I had most of the dinner cooked, but it 
 kept me hustling to get the house into any- 
 thing like decent order before the old dog 
 barked, and I knew my moments of liberty 
 were limited. It was blowing a perfect hur- 
 ricane and snowing like midwinter. I had 
 bought a beautiful pair of shoes to wear on 
 that day, but my vanity had squeezed my 
 feet a little, so while I was so busy at work I 
 186 
 
THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE 
 
 had kept on a worn old pair, intending to put 
 on the new ones later ; but when the Pearsons 
 drove up all I thought about was getting 
 them into the house where there was fire, so I 
 forgot all about the old shoes and the apron 
 I wore. 
 
 I had only been here six weeks then, and 
 was a stranger. That is why I had no one to 
 help me and was so confused and hurried. 
 As soon as the newcomers were warm, Mr. 
 Stewart told me I had better come over by 
 him and stand up. It was a large room I had 
 to cross, and how I did it before all those 
 strange eyes I never knew. All I can remem- 
 ber very distinctly is hearing Mr. Stewart 
 saying, "I will," and myself chiming in that 
 I would, too. Happening to glance down, I 
 saw that I had forgotten to take off my apron 
 or my old shoes, but just then Mr. Pearson 
 pronounced us man and wife, and as I had 
 dinner to serve right away I had no time to 
 worry over my odd toilet. Anyway the shoes 
 were comfortable and the apron white, so I 
 
 187 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 suppose it could have been worse ; and I don't 
 think it has ever made any difference with 
 the Pearsons, for I number them all among 
 my most esteemed friends. 
 
 It is customary here for newlyweds to give 
 a dance and supper at the hall, but as I was 
 a stranger I preferred not to, and so it was a 
 long time before I became acquainted with 
 all my neighbors. I had not thought I should 
 ever marry again. Jerrine was always such 
 a dear little pal, and I wanted to just knock 
 about foot-loose and free to see life as a 
 gypsy sees it. I had planned to see the Cliff- 
 Dwellers' home; to live right there until I 
 caught the spirit of the surroundings enough 
 to live over their lives in imagination any- 
 way. I had planned to see the old missions 
 and to go to Alaska; to hunt in Canada. I 
 even dreamed of Honolulu. Life stretched 
 out before me one long, happy jaunt. I aimed 
 to see all the world I could, but to travel un- 
 known bypaths to do it. But first I wanted 
 to try homesteading. 
 
 188 
 
THE HOMESTEADERS MARRIAGE 
 
 But for my having the grippe, I should 
 never have come to Wyoming. Mrs. Seroise, 
 who was a nurse at the institution for nurses 
 in Denver while I was housekeeper there, had 
 worked one summer at Saratoga, Wyoming. 
 It was she who told me of the pine forests. 
 I had never seen a pine until I came to 
 Colorado; so the idea of a home among the 
 pines fascinated me. At that time I was 
 hoping to pass the Civil-Service examination, 
 with no very definite idea as to what I would 
 do, but just to be improving my time and 
 opportunity. I never went to a public school 
 a day in my life. In my childhood days there 
 was no such thing in the Indian Territory 
 part of Oklahoma where we lived, so I have 
 had to try hard to keep learning. Before the 
 time came for the examination I was so dis- 
 couraged because of the grippe that nothing 
 but the mountains, the pines, and the clean, 
 fresh air seemed worth while; so it all came 
 about just as I have written you. 
 
 So you see I was very deceitful. Do you 
 189 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 remember, I wrote you of a little baby boy 
 dying? That was my own little Jamie, our 
 first little son. For a long time my heart was 
 crushed. He was such a sweet, beautiful boy. 
 I wanted him so much. He died of erysipelas. 
 I held him in my arms till the last agony was 
 over. Then I dressed the beautiful little 
 body for the grave. Clyde is a carpenter; so 
 I wanted him to make the little coffin. He 
 did it every bit, and I lined and padded it, 
 trimmed and covered it. Not that we could 
 n't afford to buy one or that our neighbors 
 were not all that was kind and willing; but 
 because it was a sad pleasure to do every- 
 thing for our little first-born ourselves. 
 
 As there had been no physician to help, so 
 there was no minister to comfort, and I could 
 not bear to let our baby leave the world 
 without leaving any message to a community 
 that sadly needed it. His little message to us 
 had been love, so I selected a chapter from 
 John and we had a funeral service, at which 
 all our neighbors for thirty miles around 
 190 
 
THE HOMESTEADER'S MARRIAGE 
 
 were present. So you see, our union is sealed 
 by love and welded by a great sorrow. 
 
 Little Jamie was the first little Stewart. 
 God has given me two more precious little 
 sons. The old sorrow is not so keen now. I 
 can bear to tell you about it, but I never 
 could before. When you think of me, you 
 must think of me as one who is truly happy. 
 It is true, I want a great many things I have 
 n't got, but I don't want them enough to be 
 discontented and not enjoy the many bless- 
 ings that are mine. I have my home among 
 the blue mountains, my healthy, well-formed 
 children, my clean, honest husband, my kind, 
 gentle milk cows, my garden which I make 
 myself. I have loads and loads of flowers 
 which I tend myself. There are lots of chick- 
 ens, turkeys, and pigs which are my own 
 special care. I have some slow old gentle 
 horses and an old wagon. I can load up the 
 kiddies and go where I please any time. I 
 have the best, kindest neighbors and I have 
 my dear absent friends. Do you wonder I am 
 191 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 so happy? When I think of it all, I wonder 
 how I can crowd all my joy into one short 
 life. I don't want you to think for one 
 moment that you are bothering me when I 
 write you. It is a real pleasure to do so. 
 You're always so good to let me tell you 
 everything. I am only afraid of trying your 
 patience too far. Even in this long letter I 
 can't tell you all I want to; so I shall write 
 you again soon. Jerrine will write too. Just 
 now she has very sore fingers. She has been 
 picking gooseberries, and they have been 
 pretty severe on her brown little paws. 
 With much love to you, I am 
 "Honest and truly" yours, 
 
 Elinore Rupert Stewart. 
 
XIX 
 
 THE ADVENTURE OF THE CHRISTMAS TREE 
 
 January 6, 19 13. 
 
 My dear Friend, — 
 
 I have put off writing you and thanking 
 you for your thought for us until now so that 
 I could tell you of our very happy Christmas 
 and our deer hunt all at once. 
 
 To begin with, Mr. Stewart and Junior 
 have gone to Boulder to spend the winter. 
 Clyde wanted his mother to have a chance 
 to enjoy our boy, so, as he had to go, he took 
 Junior with him. Then those of my dear 
 neighbors nearest my heart decided to pre- 
 vent a lonely Christmas for me, so on Decem- 
 ber 2 1st came Mrs. Louderer, laden with an 
 immense plum pudding and a big "wurst" 
 and a little later came Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 on her frisky pony, Chief, her scarlet sweater 
 making a bright bit of color against our snow- 
 193 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 wrapped horizon. Her face and ways are 
 just as bright and cheery as can be. When 
 she saw Mrs. Louderer's pudding and sau- 
 sage she said she had brought nothing be- 
 cause she had come to get something to eat 
 herself, "and," she continued, " it is a private 
 opinion of mine that my neighbors are so 
 glad to see me that they are glad to feed me." 
 Now would n't that little speech have made 
 her welcome anywhere? 
 
 Well, we were hilariously planning what 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy called a "widdy" 
 Christmas and getting supper, when a great 
 stamping-off of snow proclaimed a new- 
 comer. It was Gavotte, and we were power- 
 fully glad to see him because the hired man 
 was going to a dance and we knew Gavotte 
 would contrive some unusual amusement. 
 He had heard that Clyde was going to have 
 a deer-drive, and did n't know that he had 
 gone, so he had come down to join the hunt 
 just for the fun, and was very much disap- 
 pointed to find there was going to be no hunt. 
 194 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 After supper, however, his good humor re- 
 turned and he told us story after story of big 
 hunts he had had in Canada. He worked up 
 his own enthusiasm as well as ours, and at 
 last proposed that we have a drive of our own 
 for a Christmas "joy." He said he would 
 take a station and do the shooting if one of 
 us would do the driving. So right now I 
 reckon I had better tell you how it is done. 
 
 There are many little parks in the moun- 
 tains where the deer can feed, although now 
 most places are so deep in snow that they 
 can't walk in it. For that reason they have 
 trails to water and to the different feeding- 
 grounds, and they can't get through the snow 
 except along these paths. You see how easy 
 it would be for a man hidden on the trail to 
 get one of the beautiful creatures if some one 
 coming from another direction startled them 
 so that they came along that particular path. 
 
 So they made their plans. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy elected herself driver. Two miles away 
 is a huge mountain called Phillipeco, and 
 195 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 deer were said to be plentiful up there. At 
 one time there had been a sawmill on the 
 mountain, and there were a number of de- 
 serted cabins in which we could make our- 
 selves comfortable. So it was planned that 
 we go up the next morning, stay all night, 
 have the hunt the following morning, and 
 then come home with our game. 
 
 Well, we were all astir early the next 
 morning and soon grain, bedding, and chuck- 
 box were in the wagon. Then Mrs. Loud- 
 erer, the kinder, and myself piled in; Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy bestrode Chief, Gavotte 
 stalked on ahead to pick our way, and we 
 were off. 
 
 It was a long, tedious climb, and I wished 
 over and over that I had stayed at home; 
 but it was altogether on Baby's account. I 
 was so afraid that he would suffer, but he 
 kept warm as toast. The day was beauti- 
 ful, and the views many times repaid us for 
 any hardship we had suffered. It was three 
 o'clock before we reached the old mill camp. 
 196 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 Soon we had a roaring fire, and Gavotte 
 made the horses comfortable in one of the 
 cabins. They were bedded in soft, dry saw- 
 dust, and were quite as well off as if they had 
 been in their own stalls. Then some rough 
 planks were laid on blocks, and we had our 
 first meal since breakfast. We called it sup- 
 per, and we had potatoes roasted in the 
 embers, Mrs. Louderer's wurst, which she 
 had been calmly carrying around on her arm 
 like a hoop and which was delicious with the 
 bread that Gavotte toasted on long sticks; 
 we had steaming coffee, and we were all 
 happy; even Baby clapped his hands and 
 crowed at the unusual sight of an open fire. 
 After supper Gavotte took a little stroll and 
 returned with a couple of grouse for our 
 breakfast. After dark we sat around the fire 
 eating peanuts and listening to Gavotte and 
 Mrs. Louderer telling stories of their differ- 
 ent great forests. But soon Gavotte took 
 his big sleeping-bag and retired to another 
 cabin, warning us that we must be up early. 
 197 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Our improvised beds were the most comfort- 
 able things ; I love the flicker of an open fire, 
 the smell of the pines, the pure, sweet air, 
 and I went to sleep thinking how blest I was 
 to be able to enjoy the things I love most. 
 
 It seemed only a short time until some one 
 knocked on our door and we were all wide 
 awake in a minute. The fire had burned 
 down and only a soft, indistinct glow from 
 the embers lighted the room, while through a 
 hole in the roof I could see a star glimmering 
 frostily. It was Gavotte at the door and he 
 called through a crack saying he had been 
 hearing queer noises for an hour and he was 
 going to investigate. He had called us so 
 that we need not be alarmed should we hear 
 the noise and not find him. We scrambled 
 into our clothes quickly and ran outdoors to 
 listen. 
 
 I can never describe to you the weird 
 
 beauty of a moonlight night among the pines 
 
 when the snow is sparkling and gleaming, 
 
 the deep silence unbroken even by the snap- 
 
 198 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 ping of a twig. We stood shivering and 
 straining our ears and were about to go back 
 to bed when we heard faintly a long-drawn 
 wail as if all the suffering and sorrow on 
 earth were bound up in that one sound. We 
 couldn't tell which way it came from; it 
 seemed to vibrate through the air and chill 
 our hearts. I had heard that panthers cried 
 that way, but Gavotte said it was not a 
 panther. He said the engine and saws had 
 been moved from where we were to another 
 spring across the canon a mile away, where 
 timber for sawing was more plentiful, but he 
 supposed every one had left the mill when 
 the water froze so they could n't saw. He 
 added that some one must have remained 
 and was, perhaps, in need of help, and if we 
 were not afraid he would leave us and go see 
 what was wrong. 
 
 We went in, made up the fire, and sat in 
 
 silence, wondering what we should see or 
 
 hear next. Once or twice that agonized cry 
 
 came shivering through the cold moonlight. 
 
 199 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 After an age, we heard Gavotte crunching 
 through the snow, whistling cheerily to re- 
 assure us. He had crossed the cation to the 
 new mill camp, where he had found two 
 women, loggers' wives, and some children, 
 One of the women, he said, was "so vei 
 seek," 't was she who was wailing so, and it 
 was the kind of "seek" where we could be 
 of every help and comfort. 
 
 Mrs. Louderer stayed and took care of the 
 children while Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and I 
 followed after Gavotte, panting and stum- 
 bling, through the snow. Gavotte said he 
 suspected they were short of "needfuls," so 
 he had filled his pockets with coffee and 
 sugar, took in a bottle some of the milk I 
 brought for Baby, and his own flask of whis- 
 key, without which he never travels. 
 
 At last, after what seemed to me hours of 
 scrambling through the snow, through deep- 
 est gloom where pines were thickest, and out 
 again into patches of white moonlight, we 
 reached the ugly clearing where the new 
 200 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 camp stood. Gavotte escorted us to the door 
 and then returned to our camp. Entering, 
 we saw the poor, little soon-to-be mother 
 huddled on her poor bed, while an older 
 woman stood near warning her that the oil 
 would soon be all gone and they would be in 
 darkness. She told us that the sick one had 
 been in pain all the day before and much 
 of the night, and that she herself was worn 
 completely out. So Mrs. O'Shaughnessy sent 
 her to bed and we took charge. 
 
 Secretly, I felt it all to be a big nuisance 
 to be dragged out from my warm, comfort- 
 able bed to traipse through the snow at that 
 time of the night. But the moment poor little 
 Molly spoke I was glad I was living, because 
 she was a poor little Southern girl whose hus- 
 band is a Mormon. He had been sent on a 
 mission to Alabama, and the poor girl had 
 fallen in love with his handsome face and 
 knew nothing of Mormonism, so she had run 
 away with him. She thought it would be so 
 grand to live in the glorious West with so 
 201 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 splendid a man as she believed her husband 
 to be. But now she believed she was going 
 to die and she was glad of it because she 
 could not return to her "folks," and she said 
 she knew her husband was dead because he 
 and the other woman's husband, both of 
 whom had intended to stay there all winter 
 and cut logs, had gone two weeks before to 
 get their summer's wages and buy supplies. 
 Neither man had come back and there was 
 not a horse or any other way to get out of the 
 mountains to hunt them, so they believed 
 the men to be frozen somewhere on the road. 
 Rather a dismal prospect, was n't it? Molly 
 was just longing for some little familiar 
 thing, so I was glad I have not yet gotten rid 
 of my Southern way of talking. No West- 
 erner can ever understand a Southerner's 
 need of sympathy, and, however kind their 
 hearts, they are unable to give it. Only a 
 Southerner can understand how dear are our 
 peculiar words and phrases, and poor little 
 Molly took new courage when she found I 
 202 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 knew what she meant when she said she was 
 just "honin' " after a friendly voice. 
 
 Well, soon we had the water hot and had 
 filled some bottles and placed them around 
 our patient, and after a couple of hours the 
 tiny little stranger came into the world. It 
 had been necessary to have a great fire in 
 order to have light, so as soon as we got 
 Baby dressed I opened the door a little to 
 cool the room and Molly saw the morning 
 star twinkling merrily. "Oh," she said, 
 "that is what I will call my little girlie, — 
 Star, dear little Star." 
 
 It is strange, is n't it? how our spirits will 
 revive after some great ordeal. Molly had 
 been sure she was going to die and saw 
 nothing to live for; now that she had had a 
 cup of hot milk and held her red little baby 
 close, she was just as happy and hopeful as 
 if she had never left her best friends and 
 home to follow the uncertain fortunes of 
 young Will Crosby. So she and I talked of 
 ash-hoppers, smoke-houses, cotton-patches, 
 203 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 goobers, poke-greens, and shoats, until she 
 fell asleep. 
 
 Soon day was abroad, and so we went out- 
 doors for a fresh breath. The other woman 
 came out just then to ask after Molly. She 
 invited us into her cabin, and, oh, the little 
 Mormons were everywhere; poor, half-clad 
 little things! Some sour-dough biscuit and 
 a can of condensed milk was everything they 
 had to eat. The mother explained to us that 
 their "men" had gone to get things for them, 
 but had not come back, so she guessed they 
 had got drunk and were likely in jail. She 
 told it in a very unconcerned manner. Poor 
 thing! Years of such experience had taught 
 her that blessed are they who expect nothing, 
 for they shall not be disappointed. She said 
 that if Molly had not been sick she would 
 have walked down out of the mountains and 
 got help. 
 
 Just then two shots rang out in quick suc- 
 cession, and soon Gavotte came staggering 
 along with a deer across his shoulders. That 
 204 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 he left for the family. From our camp he had 
 brought some bacon and butter for Molly, 
 and, poor though it may seem, it was a treat 
 for her. Leaving the woman to dress the 
 venison with her oldest boy's aid, we put out 
 across the canon for our own breakfast. Be- 
 side our much-beaten trail hung the second 
 venison, and when we reached our camp and 
 had our own delicious breakfast of grouse, 
 bread, butter, and coffee, Gavotte took 
 Chub and went for our venison. In a short 
 time we were rolling homeward. Of course it 
 did n't take us nearly so long to get home 
 because it was downhill and the road was 
 clearly marked, so in a couple of hours we 
 were home. 
 
 Gavotte knew the two loggers were in 
 Green River and were then at work storing 
 ice for the railroad, but he had not known 
 that their wives were left as they were. The 
 men actually had got drunk, lost their 
 money, and were then trying to replace it. 
 After we debated a bit we decided we could 
 205 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 not enjoy Christmas with those people in 
 want up there in the cold. Then we got busy. 
 It is sixty miles to town, although our near- 
 est point to the railroad is but forty, so you 
 see it was impossible to get to town to get 
 anything. You should have seen us! Every 
 old garment that had ever been left by men 
 who have worked here was hauled out, and 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's deft fingers soon had 
 a pile of garments cut. We kept the machine 
 humming until far into the night, as long as 
 we could keep our eyes open. 
 
 All next day we sewed as hard as we could, 
 and Gavotte cooked as hard as he could. We 
 had intended to have a tree for Jerrine, so we 
 had a box of candles and a box of Christmas 
 snow. Gavotte asked for all the bright paper 
 we could find. We had lots of it, and I think 
 you would be surprised at the possibilities 
 of a little waste paper. He made gorgeous 
 birds, butterflies, and flowers out of paper 
 that once wrapped parcels. Then he asked 
 us for some silk thread, but I had none, so he 
 206 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 told us to comb our hair and give him the 
 combings. We did, and with a drop of muci- 
 lage he would fasten a hair to a bird's back 
 and then hold it up by the hair. At a few 
 feet's distance it looked exactly as though 
 the bird was flying. I was glad I had a big 
 stone jar full of fondant, because we had a 
 lot of fun shaping and coloring candies. We 
 offered a prize for the best representation of 
 a "nigger," and we had two dozen chocolate- 
 covered things that might have been any- 
 thing from a monkey to a mouse. Mrs. 
 Louderer cut up her big plum pudding and 
 put it into a dozen small bags. These 
 Gavotte carefully covered with green paper. 
 Then we tore up the holly wreath that Aunt 
 Mary sent me, and put a sprig in the top of 
 each green bag of pudding. I never had so 
 much fun in my life as I had preparing for 
 that Christmas. 
 
 At ten o'clock, the morning of the 24th, 
 we were again on our way up the mountain- 
 side. We took shovels so we could clear a 
 207 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 road if need be. We had dinner at the old 
 camp, and then Gavotte hunted us a way 
 out to the new, and we smuggled our things 
 into Molly's cabin so the children should 
 have a real surprise. Poor, hopeless little 
 things! Theirs was, indeed, a dull outlook. 
 
 Gavotte busied himself in preparing one 
 of the empty cabins for us and in making 
 the horses comfortable. He cut some pine 
 boughs to do that with, and so they paid no 
 attention when he cut a small tree.- In the 
 mean time we had cleared everything from 
 Molly's cabin but her bed ; we wanted her to 
 see the fun. The children were sent to the 
 spring to water the horses and they were all 
 allowed to ride, so that took them out of the 
 way while Gavotte nailed the tree into a box 
 he had filled with dirt to hold it steady. 
 
 There were four women of us, and Gavotte, 
 so it was only the work of a few moments 
 to get the tree ready, and it was the most 
 beautiful one I ever saw. Your largest bell, 
 dear Mrs. Coney, dangled from the topmost 
 208 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 branch. Gavotte had attached a long, stout 
 wire to your Santa Claus, so he was able to 
 make him dance frantically without seeming 
 to do so. The hairs that held the birds and 
 butterflies could not be seen, and the effect 
 was beautiful. We had a bucket of apples 
 rubbed bright, and these we fastened to the 
 tree just as they grew on their own branches. 
 The puddings looked pretty, too, and we had 
 done up the parcels that held the clothes as 
 attractively as we could . We saved the candy 
 and the peanuts to put in their little stockings. 
 As soon as it was dark we lighted the 
 candles and then their mother called the 
 children. Oh, if you could have seen them! 
 It was the very first Christmas tree they had 
 ever seen and they did n't know what to do. 
 The very first present Gavotte handed out 
 was a pair of trousers for eight-years-old 
 Brig, but he just stood and stared at the tree 
 until his brother next in size, with an eye to 
 the main chance, got behind him and pushed 
 him forward, all the time exclaiming, "Go 
 209 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 on, can't you! They ain't doin' nothin* to 
 you, they's just doin' somethin' for you." 
 Still Brig would not put out his hand. He 
 just shook his tousled sandy head and said he 
 wanted a bird. So the fun kept up for an hour. 
 Santa had for Molly a package of oatmeal, a 
 pound of butter, a Mason jar of cream, and a 
 dozen eggs, so that she could have suitable 
 food to eat until something could be done. 
 
 After the presents had all been distributed 
 we put the phonograph on a box and had 
 a dandy concert. We played "There were 
 Shepherds," "Ave Maria," and "Sweet 
 Christmas Bells." Only we older people 
 cared for those, so then we had "Arrah 
 Wanna," "Silver Bells," "Rainbow," "Red 
 Wing," and such songs. How delighted they 
 were ! Our concert lasted two hours, and by 
 that time the little fellows were so sleepy that 
 the excitement no longer affected them and 
 they were put to bed, but they hung up their 
 stockings first, and even Molly hung hers up 
 too. We filled them with peanuts and candy, 
 210 
 
CHRISTMAS TREE ADVENTURE 
 
 putting the lion's share of "niggers" into 
 Molly's stocking. 
 
 Next morning the happiness broke out in 
 new spots. The children were all clean and 
 warm, though J am afraid I can't brag on the 
 fit of all the clothes. But the pride of the 
 wearers did away with the necessity of a fit. 
 The mother was radiantly thankful for a 
 warm petticoat ; that it was made of a blanket 
 too small for a bed did n't bother her, and 
 the stripes were around the bottom anyway. 
 Molly openly rejoiced in her new gown, and 
 that it was made of ugly gray outing flannel 
 she did n't know nor care. Baby Star Crosby 
 looked perfectly sweet in her little new 
 clothes, and her little gown had blue sleeves 
 and they thought a white skirt only added to 
 its beauty. And so it was about everything. 
 We all got so much out of so little. I will 
 never again allow even the smallest thing 
 to go to waste. We were every one just as 
 happy as we could be, almost as delighted as 
 Molly was over her "niggers," and there was 
 211 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 very little given that had not been thrown 
 away or was not just odds and ends. 
 
 There was never anything more true than 
 that it is more blessed to give than to receive. 
 We certainly had a delicious dinner too, and 
 we let Molly have all she wanted that we 
 dared allow her to eat. The roast venison 
 was so good that we were tempted to let her 
 taste it, but we thought better of that. As 
 soon as dinner was over we packed our be- 
 longings and betook ourselves homeward. 
 
 It was just dusk when we reached home. 
 Away off on a bare hill a wolf barked. A big 
 owl hooted lonesomely among the pines, and 
 soon a pack of yelping coyotes went scam- 
 pering across the frozen waste. 
 
 It was not the Christmas I had in mind 
 when I sent the card, but it was a dandy one, 
 just the same. 
 
 With best wishes for you for a happy, 
 happy New Year, 
 
 Sincerely your friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert Stewart. 
 
XX 
 
 THE JOYS OF HOMESTEADING 
 
 January 23, 1913. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 I am afraid all my friends think I am very 
 forgetful and that you think I am ungrateful 
 as well, but I am going to plead not guilty. 
 Right after Christmas Mr. Stewart came 
 down with la grippe and was so miserable 
 that it kept me busy trying to relieve him. 
 Out here where we can get no physician we 
 have to dope ourselves, so that I had to 
 be housekeeper, nurse, doctor, and general 
 overseer. That explains my long silence. 
 
 And now I want to thank you for your 
 kind thought in prolonging our Christmas. 
 The magazines were much appreciated. They 
 relieved some weary night-watches, and the 
 box did Jerrine more good than the medicine 
 I was having to give her for la grippe. She 
 213 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 was content to stay in bed and enjoy the 
 contents of her box. 
 
 When I read of the hard times among the 
 Denver poor, I feel like urging them every 
 one to get out and file on land. I am very 
 enthusiastic about women homesteading. It 
 really requires less strength and labor to 
 raise plenty to satisfy a large family than it 
 does to go out to wash, with the added satis- 
 faction of knowing that their job will not be 
 lost to them if they care to keep it. Even if 
 improving the place does go slowly, it is that 
 much done to stay done. Whatever is raised 
 is the homesteader's own, and there is no 
 house-rent to pay. This year Jerrine cut and 
 dropped enough potatoes to raise a ton of 
 fine potatoes. She wanted to try, so we let 
 her, and you will remember that she is but 
 six years old. We had a man to break the 
 ground and cover the potatoes for her and 
 the man irrigated them once. That was all 
 that was done until digging time, when they 
 were ploughed out and Jerrine picked them 
 214 
 
THE JOYS OF HOMESTEADING 
 
 up. Any woman strong enough to go out by 
 the day could have done every bit of the 
 work and put in two or three times that 
 much, and it would have been so much more 
 pleasant than to work so hard in the city 
 and then be on starvation rations in the 
 winter. 
 
 To me, homesteading is the solution of all 
 poverty's problems, but I realize that tem- 
 perament has much to do with success in 
 any undertaking, and persons afraid of coy- 
 otes and work and loneliness had better 
 let ranching alone. At the same time, any 
 woman who can stand her own company, 
 can see the beauty of the sunset, loves grow- 
 ing things, and is willing to put in as much 
 time at careful labor as she does over the 
 washtub, will certainly succeed; will have 
 independence, plenty to eat all the time, and 
 a home of her own in the end. 
 
 Experimenting need cost the homesteader 
 no more than the work, because by applying 
 to the Department of Agriculture at Wash- 
 215 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 ington he can get enough of any seed and as 
 many kinds as he wants to make a thorough 
 trial, and it does n't even cost postage. Also 
 one can always get bulletins from there and 
 from the Experiment Station of one's own 
 State concerning any problem or as many 
 problems as may come up. I would not, for 
 anything, allow Mr. Stewart to do anything 
 toward improving my place, for I want the 
 fun and the experience myself. And I want to 
 be able to speak from experience when I tell 
 others what they can do. Theories are very 
 beautiful, but facts are what must be had, 
 and what I intend to give some time. 
 
 Here I am boring you to death with things 
 that cannot interest you ! You 'd think I 
 wanted you to homestead, would n't you? 
 But I am only thinking of the troops of tired, 
 worried women, sometimes even cold and 
 hungry, scared to death of losing their places 
 to work, who could have plenty to eat, who 
 could have good fires by gathering the wood, 
 and comfortable homes of their own, if they 
 216 
 
THE JOYS OF HOMESTEADING 
 
 but had the courage and determination to 
 get them. 
 
 I must stop right now before you get so 
 tired you will not answer. With much love 
 to you from Jerrine and myself, I am 
 Yours affectionately, 
 
 Elinore Rupert Stewart. 
 
XXI 
 
 A LETTER OF JERRINE'S 
 
 February 26, 19 13. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 I think you will excuse my mama for not 
 writing to thank you for black Beauty when 
 I tell you why. I wanted to thank you my- 
 self, and I wanted to hear it read first so I 
 could very trully thank. Mama always said 
 horses do not talk, but now she knows they 
 do since she read the Dear little book. I have 
 known it along time. My own pony told me 
 the story is very true. Many times I have 
 see men treat horses very badly, but our 
 Clyde dont, and wont let a workman stay if 
 He hurts stock. I am very glad. 
 
 Mr Edding came past one day with a load 
 
 of hay. he had too much load to pull up hill 
 
 and there was much ice and snow but he 
 
 think he can make them go up so he fighted 
 
 218 
 
A LETTER OF JERRINE'S 
 
 and sweared but they could not get up. 
 Mama tried to lend him some horse to help 
 but he was angry and was termined to make 
 his own pull it but at last he had to take off 
 some hay I wish he may read my Black 
 Beauty. 
 
 Our Clyde is still away. We were going to 
 visit Stella. Mama was driving, the horses 
 raned away. We goed very fast as the wind. 
 I almost fall out Mama hanged on to the 
 lines, if she let go we may all be kill. At last 
 she raned them into a fence, they stop and a 
 man ran to help so we are well but mama 
 hands and arms are still so sore she cant 
 write you yet. My brother Calvin is very 
 sweet. God had to give him to us because he 
 squealed so much he sturbed the angels. We 
 are not angels so he Dont sturb us. I thank 
 you for my good little book, and I love you 
 for it too. 
 
 very speakfully, 
 
 Jerrine Rupert. 
 
XXII 
 
 THE EFFICIENT MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 
 
 May 5, 1913. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 Your letter of April 25 certainly was a sur- 
 prise, but a very welcome one. We are so 
 rushed with spring work that we don't even 
 go to the office for the mail, and I owe you 
 letters and thanks. I keep promising myself 
 the pleasure of writing you and keep putting 
 it off until I can have more leisure, but that 
 time never gets here. I am so glad when I 
 can bring a little of this big, clean, beautiful 
 outdoors into your apartment for you to en- 
 joy, and I can think of nothing that would 
 give me more happiness than to bring the 
 West and its people to others who could not 
 otherwise enjoy them. If I could only take 
 them from whatever is worrying them and 
 give them this bracing mountain air, glimpses 
 220 
 
EFFICIENT MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 
 
 of the scenery, a smell of the pines and the 
 sage, — if I could only make them feel the free, 
 ready sympathy and hospitality of these fron- 
 tier people, I am sure their worries would di- 
 minish and my happiness would be complete. 
 Little Star Crosby is growing to be the 
 sweetest little kid. Her mother tells me that 
 she is going "back yan" when she gets a 
 "little mo' richer." I am afraid you give me 
 too much credit for being of help to poor little 
 Molly. It was n't that I am so helpful, but 
 that "fools rush in where angels fear to 
 tread." It was Mrs. O'Shaughnessy who was 
 the real help. She is a woman of great cour- 
 age and decision and of splendid sense and 
 judgment. A few days ago a man she had 
 working for her got his finger-nail mashed off 
 and neglected to care for it. Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy examined it and found that gangrene 
 had set in. She did n't tell him, but made 
 various preparations and then told him she 
 had heard that if there was danger of blood- 
 poisoning it would show if the finger was 
 221 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 placed on wood and the patient looked 
 toward the sun. She said the person who 
 looked at the finger could then see if there 
 was any poison. So the man placed his finger 
 on the chopping-block and before he could 
 bat his eye she had chopped off the black, 
 swollen finger. It was so sudden and unex- 
 pected that there seemed to be no pain. Then 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy showed him the green 
 streak already starting up his arm. The man 
 seemed dazed and she was afraid of shock, so 
 she gave him a dose of morphine and whiskey. 
 Then with a quick stroke of a razor she laid 
 open the green streak and immersed the 
 whole arm in a strong solution of bichloride 
 of mercury for twenty minutes. She then 
 dressed the wound with absorbent cotton 
 saturated with olive oil and carbolic acid, 
 bundled her patient into a buggy, and drove 
 forty-five miles that night to get him to a doc- 
 tor. The doctor told us that only her quick 
 action and knowledge of what to do saved 
 the man's life. 
 
 222 
 
EFFICIENT MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 
 
 I was surprised that you have had a letter 
 from Jerrine. I knew she was writing to you 
 that day, but I was feeling very stiff and sore 
 from the runaway and had lain down. She 
 kept asking me how to spell words until I 
 told her I was too tired and wanted to sleep. 
 While I was asleep the man came for the 
 mail, so she sent her letter. I have your ad- 
 dress on the back of the writing-pad, so she 
 knew she had it right, but I suspect that was 
 all she had right. She has written you many 
 letters but I have never allowed her to send 
 them because she misspells, but that time she 
 stole a march on me. The books you sent 
 her, " Black Beauty" and " Alice in Wonder- 
 land," have given her more pleasure than 
 anything she has ever had. She just loves 
 them and is saving them, she says, for her 
 own little girls. She is very confident that 
 the stork will one day visit her and leave her 
 a " very many " little girls. They are to be of 
 assorted sizes. She says she can't see why I 
 order all my babies little and red and squally, 
 223 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 — says she thinks God had just as soon let 
 me have larger ones, especially as I get so 
 many from him. 
 
 One day before long I will get busy and 
 write you of a visit I shall make to a Mormon 
 bishops household. Polygamy is still prac- 
 ticed. 
 
 Very truly your friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert Stewart. 
 
XXIII 
 
 HOW IT HAPPENED 
 
 June 12, 1913. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 Your letter of the 8th to hand, and in order 
 to catch you before you leave I '11 answer at 
 once and not wait for time. I always think I 
 shall do better with more time, but with three 
 "bairns," garden, chickens, cows, and house- 
 work I don't seem to find much time for 
 anything. Now for the first question. My 
 maiden name was Pruitt, so when I am put- 
 ting on airs I sign Elinore Pruitt Stewart. I 
 don't think I have ever written anything that 
 Clyde would object to, so he can still stay on 
 the pedestal Scotch custom puts him upon and 
 remain "the Stewart." Indeed, I don't think 
 you are too inquisitive, and I am glad to 
 tell you how I happened to meet the "gude 
 mon." 
 
 225 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 It all happened because I had a stitch in 
 my side. When I was housekeeper at the 
 Nursery, I also had to attend to the furnace, 
 and, strange but true, the furnace was built 
 across the large basement from where the 
 coal was thrown in, so I had to tote the coal 
 over, and my modus operandi was to fill a tub 
 with coal and then drag it across to the hun- 
 gry furnace. Well, one day I felt the catch 
 
 and got no better fast. After Dr. F 
 
 punched and prodded, she said, "Why, you 
 have the grippe." Rev. Father Corrigan had 
 been preparing me to take the Civil-Service 
 examination, and that afternoon a lesson 
 was due, so I went over to let him see how 
 little I knew. I was in pain and was so blue 
 that I could hardly speak without weeping, so 
 I told the Reverend Father how tired I was of 
 the rattle and bang, of the glare and the soot, 
 the smells and the hurry. I told him what I 
 longed for was the sweet, free open, and that 
 I would like to homestead. That was Satur- 
 day evening. He advised me to go straight 
 226 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED 
 
 uptown and put an "ad" in the paper, so as 
 to get it into the Sunday paper. I did so, and 
 because I wanted as much rest and quiet as 
 possible I took Jerrine and went uptown and 
 got a nice quiet room. 
 
 On the following Wednesday I received a 
 letter from Clyde, who was in Boulder visit- 
 ing his mother. He was leaving for Wyoming 
 the following Saturday and wanted an inter- 
 view, if his proposition suited me. I was so 
 glad of his offer, but at the same time I could 
 n't know what kind of person he was; so, to 
 lessen any risk, I asked him to come to the 
 Sunshine Mission, where Miss Ryan was 
 going to help me "size him up." He did n't 
 know that part of it, of course, but he stood 
 inspection admirably. I was under the im- 
 pression he had a son, but he had n't, and 
 he and his mother were the very last of their 
 race. I am as proud and happy to-day as I 
 was the day I became his wife. I wish you 
 knew him, but I suspect I had better not 
 brag too much, lest you think me not quite 
 227 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 sincere. He expected to visit you while he 
 was in Boulder. He went to the Stock Show, 
 but was with a party, so he planned to go 
 again. But before he could, the man he left 
 here, and whom I dismissed for drunkenness, 
 went to Boulder and told him I was alone, so 
 the foolish thing hurried home to keep me 
 from too hard work. So that is why he was 
 disappointed. 
 
 Junior can talk quite well, and even Calvin 
 jabbers. The children are all well, and Jer- 
 rine writes a little every day to you. I have 
 been preparing a set of indoor outings for 
 invalids. Your telling me your invalid friends 
 enjoyed the letters suggested the idea. I 
 thought to write of little outings I take might 
 amuse them, but wanted to write just as I 
 took the little trips, while the impressions 
 were fresh ; that is why I have not sent them 
 before now. Is it too late? Shall I send them 
 to you? Now this is really not a letter; it is 
 just a reply. I must say good-night; it is 
 twelve o'clock, and I am so sleepy. 
 228 
 
HOW IT HAPPENED 
 
 I do hope you will have a very happy sum- 
 mer, and that you will share your happiness 
 with me in occasional letters. 
 With much love, 
 
 Elinore Stewart. 
 
 In writing I forgot to say that the Rever- 
 end Father thought it a good plan to get a 
 position as housekeeper for some rancher 
 who would advise me about land and water 
 rights. By keeping house, he pointed out, I 
 could have a home and a living and at the 
 same time see what kind of a homestead I 
 could get. 
 
XXIV 
 
 A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 October 8, 1913. 
 
 My dear Friend, — 
 
 I have had such a happy little peep into 
 another's romance that I think I should be 
 cheating you if I did n't tell you. Help in 
 this country is extremely hard to get ; so when 
 I received a letter from one Aurelia Tim- 
 mons, saying she wanted a job, — three dol- 
 lars a week and not to be called "Relie," — 
 my joy could hardly be described. I could 
 hardly wait until morning to start for Bridger 
 Bench, where Aurelia held forth. I was up 
 before the lark next morning. It is more 
 miles to the Bridger Bench country than the 
 "gude mon" wants his horses driven in a 
 day; so permission was only given after I 
 promised to curb my impatience and stay 
 overnight with Mrs. Louderer. Under ordi- 
 230 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 nary circumstances that would have been a 
 pleasure, but I knew at least a dozen women 
 who would any of them seize on to Aurelia 
 and wrest her from me, so it was only after it 
 seemed I would not get to go at all that I 
 promised. 
 
 At length the wagon was greased, some 
 oats put in, a substantial lunch and the kid- 
 dies loaded in, and I started on my way. 
 Perhaps it was the prospect of getting help 
 that gilded everything with a new beauty. 
 The great mountains were so majestic, and 
 the day so young that I knew the night wind 
 was still murmuring among the pines far up 
 on the mountain-sides. The larks were trying 
 to outdo each other and the robins were so 
 saucy that I could almost have flicked them 
 with the willow I was using as a whip. The 
 rabbit-bush made golden patches every- 
 where, while purple asters and great pink 
 thistles lent their charm. Going in that direc- 
 tion, our way lay between a mountain stream 
 and the foothills. There are many ranches 
 231 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 along the stream, and as we were out so early, 
 we could see the blue smoke curling from 
 each house we passed. We knew that venison 
 steak, hot biscuit, and odorous coffee would 
 soon grace their tables. We had not had the 
 venison, for the "gude raon" holds to the 
 letter of the law which protects deer here, 
 but we begrudged no one anything ; we were 
 having exactly what we wanted. We jogged 
 along happily, if slowly, for I must explain 
 to you that Chub is quite the laziest horse 
 in the State, and Bill, his partner, is so old he 
 stands like a bulldog. He is splay-footed and 
 sway-backed, but he is a beloved member of 
 our family, so I vented my spite on Chub, and 
 the willow descended periodically across his 
 black back, I guess as much from force of 
 habit as anything else. But his hide is thick 
 and his memory short, so we broke no record 
 that day. 
 
 We drove on through the fresh beauty of 
 the morning, and when the sun was straight 
 overhead we came to the last good water we 
 232 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 could expect before we reached Mrs. Loud- 
 erer's ; so we stopped for lunch. In Wyoming 
 quantity has a great deal more to do with 
 satisfaction than does quality; after half a 
 day's drive you won't care so much what it is 
 you're going to eat as you will that there is 
 enough of it. That is a lesson I learned long 
 ago; so our picnic was real. There were no 
 ants in the pie, but that is accounted for by 
 there being no pie. Our road had crossed the 
 creek, and we were resting in the shade of a 
 quaking-asp grove, high up on the sides of 
 the Bad Land hills. For miles far below lay 
 the valley through which we had come. 
 
 Farther on, the mountains with their dense 
 forests were all wrapped in the blue haze of 
 the melancholy days. Soon we quitted our en- 
 chanted grove whose quivering, golden leaves 
 kept whispering secrets to us. 
 
 About three o'clock we came down out of 
 
 the hills on to the bench on which the Loud- 
 
 erer ranch is situated. Perhaps I should ex-' 
 
 plain that this country is a series of huge ter- 
 
 233 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 races, each terrace called a bench. I had just 
 turned into the lane that leads to the house 
 when a horseman came cantering toward me. 
 "Hello!" he saluted, as he drew up beside 
 the wagon. "Goin' up to the house? Better 
 not. Mrs. Louderer is not at home, and 
 there's no one there but Greasy Pete. He's 
 on a tear; been drunk two days, I'm tellin' 
 you. He's full of mischief. 'T ain't safe 
 around old Greasy. I advise you to go some- 
 'eres else." "Well," I asked, "where can I 
 go?" "Danged if I know," he replied, " 'les- 
 sen it 's to Kate Higbee's. She lives about 
 six or seven miles west. She ain't been here 
 long, but I guess you can't miss her place. 
 Just jog along due west till you get to Red 
 Gulch ravine, then turn north for a couple 
 of miles. You '11 see her cabin up against a 
 cedar ridge. Well, so 'long!" He dug his 
 spurs into his cayuse's side and rode on. 
 
 Tears of vexation so blinded me that I 
 could scarcely see to turn the team, but omi- 
 nous sounds and wild yells kept coming from 
 234 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 the house, so I made what haste I could to 
 get away from such an unpleasant neighbor- 
 hood. Soon my spirits began to rise. Kate 
 Higbee, I reflected, was likely to prove to be 
 an interesting person. All Westerners are 
 likable, with the possible exception of Greasy 
 Pete. I rather looked forward to my visit. 
 But my guide had failed to mention the 
 buttes; so, although I jogged as west as I 
 knew how, I found I had to wind around a 
 butte about ever so often. I crossed a ravine 
 with equal frequency, and all looked alike. 
 It is not surprising that soon I could not 
 guess where I was. We could turn back and 
 retrace our tracks, but actual danger lay 
 there; so it seemed wiser to push on, as there 
 was, perhaps, no greater danger than discom- 
 fort ahead. The sun hung like a big red ball 
 ready to drop into the hazy distance when 
 we came clear of the buttes and down on to 
 a broad plateau, on which grass grew plen- 
 tifully. That encouraged me because the 
 horses need not suffer, and if I could make 
 235 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 the scanty remnant of our lunch do for the 
 children's supper and breakfast, we could 
 camp in comfort, for we had blankets. But 
 we must find water. I stood up in the wagon 
 and, shading my eyes against the sun's level 
 light, was looking out in the most promising 
 directions when I noticed that the plateau's 
 farther side was bounded by a cedar ridge, 
 and, better yet, a smoke was slowly rising, 
 column-like, against the dun prospect. That, 
 I reasoned, must be my destination. Even 
 the horses livened their paces, and in a little 
 while we were there. 
 
 But no house greeted our eyes, — just a big 
 camp-fire. A lean old man sat on a log-end 
 and surveyed us indifferently. On the ground 
 lay a large canvas-covered pack, apparently 
 unopened. An old saddle lay up against a 
 cedar-trunk. Two old horses grazed near. 
 I was powerfully disappointed. You know 
 misery loves company ; so I ventured to say, 
 "Good-evening." He didn't stir, but he 
 grunted, " Hello." I knew then that he was 
 236 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 not a fossil, and hope began to stir in my 
 heart. Soon he asked, "Are you goin , some- 
 wheres or jist travelin'?" I told him I had 
 started somewhere, but reckoned I must be 
 traveling, as I had not gotten there. Then he 
 said, "My name is Hiram K. Hull. Whose 
 woman are you?" I confessed to belonging 
 to the house of Stewart. "Which Stewart?" 
 he persisted,— "C. R., S. W., or H. C?" 
 Again I owned up truthfully. "Well," he 
 continued, "what does he mean by letting 
 you gad about in such onconsequential 
 style?" 
 
 Sometimes a woman gets too angry to talk. 
 Don't you believe that? No? Well, they do, 
 I assure you, for I was then. He seemed 
 grown to the log. As he had made no move 
 to help me, without answering him I clam- 
 bered out of the wagon and began to take 
 the horses loose. "Ho!" he said; "are you 
 goin' to camp here?" "Yes, I am," I 
 snapped. "Have you any objections?" 
 "Oh, no, none that won't keep," he assured 
 237 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 me. It has always been a theory of mine that 
 when we become sorry for ourselves we make 
 our misfortunes harder to bear, because we 
 lose courage and can't think without bias; 
 so I cast about me for something to be glad 
 about, and the comfort that at least we were 
 safer with a simpleton than near a drunken 
 Mexican came to me ; so I began to view the 
 situation with a little more tolerance. 
 
 After attending to the horses I began to 
 make the children comfortable. My unwill- 
 ing host sat silently on his log, drawing long 
 and hard at his stubby old pipe. How very 
 little there was left of our lunch! Just for 
 meanness I asked him to share with us, and, 
 if you'll believe me, he did. He gravely ate 
 bread-rims and scraps of meat until there was 
 not one bit left for even the baby's breakfast. 
 Then he drew the back of his hand across his 
 mouth and remarked, "I should think when 
 you go off on a ja'nt like this you'd have a 
 well-filled mess- box." Again speech failed 
 me. 
 
 238 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 Among some dwarf willows not far away 
 a spring bubbled. I took the kiddies there to 
 prepare them for rest. When I returned to 
 the fire, what a transformation! The pack 
 was unrolled and blankets were spread, the 
 fire had been drawn aside, disclosing a bean- 
 hole, out of which Hiram K. was lifting an 
 oven. He took off the lid. Two of the plump- 
 est, brownest ducks that ever tempted any 
 one were fairly swimming in gravy. Two 
 loaves of what he called punk, with a box of 
 crackers, lay on a newspaper. He mimicked 
 me exactly when he asked me to take supper 
 with him, and I tried hard to imitate him in 
 promptitude when I accepted. The babies 
 had some of the crackers wet with hot water 
 and a little of the gravy. We soon had the 
 rest looking scarce. The big white stars were 
 beginning to twinkle before we were through, 
 but the camp-fire was bright, and we all felt 
 better-natured. Men are not alone in having 
 a way to their heart through their stomach. 
 
 I made our bed beneath the wagon, and 
 239 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 Hiram K. fixed his canvas around, so we 
 should be sheltered. I felt so much better 
 and thought so much better of him that I 
 could laugh and chat gayly. " Now, tell me," 
 he asked, as he fastened the canvas to a wheel, 
 4 'did n't you think I was an old devil at 
 first?" "Yes, I did," I answered. "Well," 
 he said, " I am; so you guessed right," After 
 I put the children to bed, we sat by the fire 
 and talked awhile. I told him how I hap- 
 pened to be gadding about in "such oncon- 
 sequential" style, and he told me stories of 
 when the country was new and fit to live in. 
 "Why," he said, in a burst of enthusiasm, 
 "time was once when you went to bed you 
 were not sure whether you 'd get up alive and 
 with your scalp on or not, the Injins were 
 that thick. And then there was white men a 
 durned sight worse; they were likely to plug 
 you full of lead just to see you kick. But 
 now," he continued mournfully, "a bear or an 
 antelope, maybe an elk, is about all the ex- 
 citement we can expect. Them good old days 
 240 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 are gone." I am mighty glad of it ; a drunken 
 Pete is bad enough for me. 
 
 I was tired, so soon I went to bed. I could 
 hear him as he cut cedar boughs for his own 
 fireside bed, and as he rattled around among 
 his pots and pans. Did you ever eat pork and 
 beans heated in a frying-pan on a camp-fire 
 for breakfast? Then if you have not, there is 
 one delight left you. But you must be away 
 out in Wyoming, with the morning sun just 
 gilding the distant peaks, and your pork and 
 beans must be out of a can, heated in a dis- 
 reputable old frying-pan, served with coffee 
 boiled in a battered old pail and drunk from a 
 tomato-can. You'll never want iced melons, 
 powdered sugar, and fruit, or sixty-nine vari- 
 eties of breakfast food, if once you sit Trilby- 
 wise on Wyoming sand and eat the kind of 
 breakfast we had that day. 
 
 After breakfast Hiram K. Hull hitched our 
 
 horses to the wagon, got his own horses 
 
 ready, and then said, " 'T ain't more'n half a 
 
 mile straight out between them two hills to 
 
 241 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 the stage-road, but I guess I had better go 
 and show you exactly, or you will be millin' 
 around here all day, tryin' to find it." In a 
 very few minutes we were on the road, and 
 our odd host turned to go. "S'long!" he 
 called. "Tell Stewart you seen old Hikum. 
 Him and me's shared tarps many's the 
 nights. We used to be punchers together, 
 — old Clyde and me. Tell him old Hikum 
 ain't forgot him." So saying, he rode away 
 into the golden morning, and we drove on- 
 ward, too. 
 
 We stopped for lunch only a few minutes 
 that day, and we reached the Bridger com- 
 munity about two that afternoon. The much 
 sought Aurelia had accepted the position of 
 lifetime housekeeper for a sheep-herder who 
 had no house to keep, so I had to cast about 
 for whatever comfort I could. The roadhouse 
 is presided over by a very able body of the 
 clan of Ferguson. I had never met her, but 
 formalities count for very little in the West. 
 She was in her kitchen, having more trouble, 
 242 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 she said, than a hen whose ducklings were in 
 swimming. I asked her if she could accom- 
 modate the children and myself. "Yes," she 
 said, "I can give you a bed and grub, but I 
 ain't got no time to ask you nothing. I ain't 
 got no time to inquire who you are nor where 
 you come from. There's one room left. You 
 can have that, but you '11 have to look out for 
 yourself and young 'uns. ' ' I felt equal to that ; 
 so I went out to have the horses cared for and 
 to unload the kiddies. 
 
 Leaning against the wagon was a man who 
 made annual rounds of all the homes in our 
 community each summer; his sole object was 
 to see what kind of flowers we succeeded 
 with. Every woman in our neighborhood 
 knows Bishey Bennet, but I don't think 
 many would have recognized him that after- 
 noon. I had never seen him dressed in any- 
 thing but blue denim overalls and overshirt 
 to match, but to-day he proudly displayed 
 what he said was his dove-colored suit. The 
 style must have been one of years ago, for I 
 243 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 cannot remember seeing trousers quite so 
 skimpy. He wore top-boots, but as a con- 
 cession to fashion he wore the boot-tops un- 
 der the trouser-legs, and as the trousers were 
 about as narrow as a sheath skirt, they kept 
 slipping up and gave the appearance of be- 
 ing at least six inches too short. Although 
 Bishey is tall and thin, his coat was two sizes 
 too small, his shirt was of soft tan material, 
 and he wore a blue tie. But whatever may 
 have been amiss with his costume was easily 
 forgotten when one saw his radiant face. He 
 grasped my hand and wrung it as if it was a 
 chicken's neck. 
 
 "What in the world is the matter with 
 you?" I asked, as I rubbed my abused paw. 
 "Just you come here and I'll tell you," he 
 answered. There was no one to hear but the 
 kiddies, but I went around the corner of the 
 house with him. He put his hand up to his 
 mouth and whispered that "Miss Em'ly" 
 was coming, would be there on the afternoon 
 stage. I had never heard of "Miss Em'ly," 
 244 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 and said so. "Well, just you go in and set on 
 the sofy and soon's I see your horses took 
 care of I '11 come in and tell you." I went into 
 my own room, and after I rustled some water 
 I made myself and the kiddies a little more 
 presentable. Then we went into the sitting- 
 room and sat on the "sofy." Presently 
 Bishey sauntered in, trying to look uncon- 
 cerned and at ease, but he was so fidgety he 
 could n't sit down. But he told his story, and 
 a dear one it is. 
 
 It seems that back in New York State he 
 and Miss Em'ly were "young uns" together. 
 When they were older they planned to marry, 
 but neither wanted to settle down to the 
 humdrumness that they had always known. 
 Both dreamed of the golden West ; so Bishey 
 had gone to blaze the trail, and "Miss Em'ly" 
 was to follow. First one duty and then an- 
 other had held her, until twenty-five years 
 had slipped by and they had not seen each 
 other, but now she was coming, that very 
 day. They would be married that evening, 
 245 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 and I at once appointed myself matron of 
 honor and was plumb glad there was no other 
 candidate. 
 
 I at once took the decorations in hand. 
 Bishey, Jerrine, and myself went out and 
 gathered armfuls of asters and goldenrod-like 
 rabbit-brush. From the dump-pile we sorted 
 cans and pails that would hold water, and 
 we made the sitting-room a perfect bower of 
 purple and gold beauty. I put on my last 
 clean shirt-waist and the children's last clean 
 dresses. Then, as there seemed nothing more 
 to do, Bishey suggested that we walk up the 
 road and meet the stage; but the day had 
 been warm, and I remembered my own ap- 
 pearance when I had come over that same 
 road the first time. I knew that journey was 
 trying on any one's appearance at any time 
 of the year, and after twenty-five years to be 
 thrust into view covered with alkali dust and 
 with one's hat on awry would be too much 
 for feminine patience; so I pointed out to 
 Bishey that he 'd better clear out and let Miss 
 246 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 Em'ly rest a bit before he showed up. At 
 last he reluctantly agreed. 
 
 I went out to the kitchen to find what 
 could be expected in the way of hot water for 
 Miss Em'ly when she should come. I found I 
 could have all I wanted if I heated it myself. 
 Mrs. Ferguson could not be bothered about 
 it, because a water company had met there 
 to vote on new canals, the sheep-men were 
 holding a convention, there was a more than 
 usual run of transients besides the regular 
 boarders, and supper was ordered for the 
 whole push. All the help she had was a girl 
 she just knew did n't have sense enough to 
 pound sand into a rat-hole. Under those 
 circumstances I was mighty glad to help. I 
 put water on to heat and then forgot Miss 
 Em'ly, I was enjoying helping so much, until 
 I heard a door slam and saw the stage drive 
 away toward the barn. 
 
 I hastened to the room I knew was re- 
 served for Miss Em'ly. I rapped on the 
 door, but it was only opened a tiny crack. I 
 247 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 whispered through that I was a neighbor- 
 friend of Mr. Bennett, that I had lots of hot 
 water for her and had come to help her if 
 I might. Then she opened the door, and I 
 entered. I found a very travel-stained little 
 woman, down whose dust-covered cheeks 
 tears had left their sign. Her prettiness was 
 the kind that wins at once and keeps you ever 
 after. She was a strange mixture of stiff reti- 
 cence and childish trust. She was in such a 
 flutter, and she said she was ashamed to own 
 it, but she was so hungry she could hardly 
 wait. 
 
 After helping her all I could, I ran out to 
 see about the wedding supper that was to be 
 served before the wedding. I found that no 
 special supper had been prepared. It seemed 
 to me a shame to thrust them down among 
 the water company, the convention, the 
 regulars, and the transients, and I mentally 
 invited myself to the wedding supper and 
 began to plan how we could have a little pri- 
 vacy. The carpenters were at work on a long 
 248 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 room off the kitchen that was to be used as 
 storeroom and pantry. They had gone for 
 the day, and their saw-horses and benches 
 were still in the room. It was only the work 
 of a moment to sweep the sawdust away. 
 There was only one window, but it was large 
 and in the west. It took a little time to wash 
 that, but it paid to do it. When a few asters 
 and sprays of rabbit-brush were placed in 
 a broken jar on the window-sill, there was a 
 picture worth seeing. Some planks were laid 
 on the saw-horses, some papers over them, 
 and a clean white cloth over all. I sorted the 
 dishes myself ; the prettiest the house afforded 
 graced our table. I rubbed the glassware 
 until it shone almost as bright as Bishey's 
 smile. 
 
 Bishey had come when he could stay away 
 no longer; he and Miss Em'ly had had their 
 first little talk, so they came out to where I 
 was laying the table. They were both beam- 
 ing. Miss Em'ly took hold at once to help. 
 "Bishey," she commanded, "do you go at 
 249 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 once to where my boxes are open, the one 
 marked 7; bring me a blue jar you'll find in 
 one corner." He went to do her bidding, and 
 I to see about the kiddies. When I came 
 back with them, there was a small willow 
 basket in the center of our improvised table, 
 heaped high with pears, apples, and grapes 
 all a little the worse for their long journey 
 from New York State to Wyoming, but still 
 things of beauty and a joy as long as they 
 lasted to Wyoming eyes and appetites. We 
 had a perfectly roasted leg of lamb; we 
 had mint sauce, a pyramid of flaky mashed 
 potatoes, a big dish of new peas, a plate of 
 sponge-cake I will be long in forgetting; and 
 the blue jar was full of grape marmalade. 
 Our iced tea was exactly right; the pieces 
 of ice clinked pleasantly against our glasses. 
 We took our time, and we were all happy. 
 We could all see the beautiful sunset, its last 
 rays lingering on Miss Em'ly's abundant 
 auburn hair to make happy the bride the sun 
 shines on. We saw the wonderful colors — 
 250 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 orange, rose, and violet — creep up and fade 
 into darker shades, until at last mellow dusk 
 filled the room. Then I took the kiddies to 
 my room to be put to bed while I should wait 
 until time for the ceremony. 
 
 Soon the babies were sleeping, and Jerrine 
 and I went into the sitting-room. They were 
 sitting on the "sofy." She was telling him 
 that the apples had come from the tree they 
 had played under, the pears from the tree 
 they had set out, the grapes from the vine 
 over the well. She told him of things packed 
 in her boxes, everything a part of the past 
 they both knew. He in turn told her of his 
 struggles, his successes, and some of what he 
 called his failures. She was a most encourag- 
 ing little person, and she'd say to him, " You 
 did well, Bishey. I'll say that for you: you 
 did well!" Then he told her about the flow- 
 ers he had planted for her. I understood then 
 why he acted so queerly about my flowers. 
 It happens that I am partial to old-time 
 favorites, and I grow as many of them as I 
 251 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 can get to succeed in this altitude ; so I have 
 zinnias, marigolds, hollyhocks, and many 
 other dear old flowers that my mother loved. 
 Many of them had been the favorites of Miss 
 Em'ly's childhood, but Bishey had n't re- 
 membered the names; so he had visited us 
 all, and when he found a flower he remem- 
 bered, he asked the name and how we grew 
 it, then he tried it, until at last he had about 
 all. Miss Em' ly wiped the tears from her eyes 
 as she remarked, "Bishey, you did well; yes, 
 you did real well." I thought to myself how 
 well we could all do if we were so encour- 
 aged. 
 
 At last the white-haired old justice of the 
 peace came, and said the words that made 
 Emily Wheeler the wife of Abisha Bennet. A 
 powerfully noisy but truly friendly crowd 
 wished them well. One polite fellow asked 
 her where she was from. She told him from 
 New York State. "Why," he asked, "do 
 New Yorkers always say State ?" " Why, be- 
 cause," she answered, — and her eyes were 
 252 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 big with surprise, — "no one would want to 
 say they were from New York City." 
 
 It had been a trying day for us, so soon 
 Jerrine and I slipped out to our room. Ours 
 was the first room off the sitting-room, and a 
 long hallway led past our door; a bench sat 
 against the wall, and it seemed a favorite 
 roosting-place for people with long discus- 
 sions. First some fellows were discussing the 
 wedding. One thought Bishey " cracked" 
 because he had shipped out an old cooking- 
 stove, one of the first manufactured, all the 
 way from where he came from, instead of 
 buying a new one nearer home. They re- 
 called instance after instance in which he had 
 acted queerly, but to me his behavior was no 
 longer a mystery. I know the stove belonged 
 somewhere in the past and that his every act 
 connected past and future. After they had 
 talked themselves tired, two old fellows took 
 possession of the bench and added a long dis- 
 cussion on how to grow corn to the general 
 din. Even sweet corn cannot be successfully 
 253 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 grown at this altitude, yet those old men 
 argued pro and con till I know their throats 
 must have ached. In the sitting-room they 
 all talked at once of ditches, water-contracts, 
 and sheep. I was so sleepy. I heard a tired 
 clock away off somewhere strike two. Some 
 sheep-men had the bench and were discussing 
 the relative values of different dips. I reckon 
 my ego must have gotten tangled with some 
 one's else about then, for I found myself 
 sitting up in bed foolishly saying, — 
 
 "Two old herders, unshaved and hairy, 
 Whose old tongues are never weary, 
 Just outside my chamber-door 
 Prate of sheep dips for ever more." 
 
 Next morning it was Bishey's cheerful 
 voice that started my day. I had hoped to 
 be up in time to see them off, but I was n't. 
 I heard him call out to Mrs. Bishey, "Miss 
 Em'ly, I 've got the boxes all loaded. We can 
 start home in ten minutes." I heard her clear 
 voice reply, " You 've done well, Bishey. I '11 
 be ready by then." I was hurriedly dressing, 
 254 
 
A LITTLE ROMANCE 
 
 hoping yet to see her, when I heard Bishey 
 call out to bluff old Colonel Winters, who 
 had arrived in the night and had not known 
 of the wedding, "Hello! Winters, have you 
 met Miss Em'ly? Come over here and meet 
 her. I'm a married man now. I married Miss 
 Em'ly last night." The colonel could n't 
 have known how apt was his reply when he 
 said, "I'm glad for you, Bishey. You 've done 
 well." I peeked between the curtains, and 
 saw Bishey's wagon piled high with boxes, 
 with Miss Em'ly, self-possessed and happy, 
 
 greeting the colonel. Soon I heard the rattle 
 
 * 
 
 of wheels, and the dear old happy pair were 
 on their way to the cabin home they had 
 waited twenty-five years for. Bless the kind 
 old hearts of them! I'm sure they've both 
 "done well." 
 
XXV 
 
 AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 November, 19 13. 
 
 My dear Friend, — 
 
 I have wanted to write you for a long time, 
 but have been so busy. I have had some visit- 
 ors and have been on a visit ; I think you would 
 like to hear about it all, so I will tell you. 
 
 I don't think you would have admired my 
 appearance the morning this adventure be- 
 gan : I was in the midst of fall house-cleaning 
 which included some papering. I am no ex- 
 pert at the very best, and papering a wall has 
 difficulties peculiar to itself. I was up on a 
 barrel trying to get a long, sloppy strip of 
 paper to stick to the ceiling instead of to me, 
 when in my visitors trooped, and so surprised 
 me that I stepped off the barrel and into a 
 candy-bucket of paste. At the same time the 
 paper came off the ceiling and fell over mine 
 256 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 and Mrs. Louderer's head. It was right 
 aggravating, I can tell you, but my visitors 
 were Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and Mrs. Loud- 
 erer, and no one could stay discouraged with 
 that pair around. 
 
 After we had scraped as much paste as we 
 could off ourselves they explained that they 
 had come to take me somewhere. That 
 sounded good to me, but I could not see how I 
 could get off. However, Mrs. Louderer said 
 she had come to keep house and to take care 
 of the children while I should go with Mrs. 
 
 O'Shaughnessy to E . We should have 
 
 two days' travel by sled and a few hours 
 on a train, then another journey by sled. 
 I wanted to go powerfully, but the paste- 
 smeared room seemed to forbid. 
 
 As Mrs. Louderer would stay with the 
 children, Mr. Stewart thought the trip would 
 be good for me. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy knew 
 
 I wanted to visit Bishop D , a shining 
 
 light among the Latter- Day Saints, so she 
 
 promised we should stay overnight at his 
 
 257 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 house. That settled it; so in the cold, blue 
 light of the early morning, Mr. Beeler, a new 
 neighbor, had driven my friends over in Mrs. 
 Louderer's big sled, to which was hitched a 
 pair of her great horses and his own team. He 
 is a widower and was going out to the road 
 for supplies, so it seemed a splendid time to 
 make my long-planned visit to the Bishop. 
 Deep snow came earlier this year than usual, 
 and the sledding and weather both promised 
 to be good. It was with many happy antici- 
 pations that I snuggled down among the 
 blankets and bearskins that morning. 
 
 Mr. Beeler is pleasant company, and Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy is so jolly and bright, and I 
 could leave home without a single misgiving 
 with Mrs. Louderer in charge. 
 
 The evening sky was blazing crimson and 
 gold, and the mountains behind us were 
 growing purple when we entered the little 
 settlement where the Bishop lives. We drove 
 briskly through the scattered, straggling little 
 village, past the store and the meeting-house, 
 
 258 
 
- / 
 
 MRS. LOUDERER AND MRS. O'SHAUGHNESSY 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 and drew up before the dwelling of the 
 Bishop. The houses of the village were for 
 the most part small cabins of two or three 
 rooms, but the Bishop's was more preten- 
 tious. It was a frame building and boasted 
 paint and shutters. A tithing-office stood 
 near, and back of the house we could see a 
 large granary and long stacks of hay. A bunch 
 of cattle was destroying one stack, and Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy remarked that the tallow from 
 those cattle should be used when the olive oil 
 gave out at their anointings, because it was 
 the Bishop's cattle eating consecrated hay. 
 
 We knocked on the door, but got no an- 
 swer. Mr. Beeler went around to the back, 
 but no one answered, so we concluded we 
 would have to try elsewhere for shelter. Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy comforted me by remarking, 
 "Well, there ain't a penny's worth of differ- 
 ence in a Mormon bishop and any other Mor- 
 mon, and D is not the only polygamist 
 
 by a long shot." 
 
 We had just turned out of the gate when a 
 259 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 lanky, tow-headed boy about fourteen years 
 of age rode up. We explained our presence 
 there, and the boy explained to us that the 
 Bishop and Aunt Debbie were away. The 
 next best house up the road was his " Maw's," 
 he said; so, as Mr. Beeler expected to stay 
 with a friend of his, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and 
 I determined to see if "Maw" could accom- 
 modate us for the night. 
 
 Mr. Beeler offered to help the boy get the 
 cattle out, but he said, "No, Paw said it 
 would not matter if they got into the hay, 
 but that he had to knock off some poles on 
 another part of the stockyard so that some 
 horses could get in to eat." 
 
 "But," I asked, "isn't that consecrated 
 hay? — is n't it tithing?" 
 
 "Yes," he said, "but that won't hurt a 
 bit, only that old John Ladd always pays his 
 tithe with foxtail hay and it almost ruins 
 Paw's horses' mouths." 
 
 I asked him if his father's stock was sup- 
 posed to get the hay. 
 
 260 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 "No, I guess not," he said, "but they are 
 always getting in accidental like." 
 
 We left him to fix the fence so the horses 
 could get in "accidental like," and drove the 
 short distance to "the next best house." 
 
 We were met at the door by a pleasant- 
 faced little woman who hurried us to the fire. 
 We told her our plight. " Why, certainly you 
 must stay with me," she said. "I am glad 
 the Bishop and Deb are away. They keep all 
 the company, and I so seldom have any one 
 come; you see Debbie has no children and 
 can do so much better for any one stopping 
 there than I can, but I like company, too, 
 and I am glad of a chance to keep you. You 
 two can have Maudie's bed. Maud is my 
 oldest girl and she has gone to Ogden to visit, 
 so we have plenty of room." 
 
 By now it was quite dark. She lighted a 
 lamp and bustled about, preparing supper. 
 We sat by the stove and, as Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy said, "noticed." 
 
 Two little boys were getting in wood for 
 261 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 the night. They appeared to be about eight 
 years old; they were twins and were the 
 youngest of the family. Two girls, about ten 
 and twelve years old, were assisting our host- 
 ess; then the boy Orson, whom we met at 
 the gate, and Maud, the daughter who was 
 away, made up the family. They seemed a 
 happy, contented family, if one judged by 
 appearance alone. After supper the children 
 gathered around the table to prepare next 
 day's lessons. They were bright little folks, 
 but they mingled a great deal of talk with 
 their studies and some of what they talked 
 was family history. 
 
 "Mamma," said Kittie, the largest of the 
 little girls, "if Aunt Deb does buy a new coat 
 and you get her old one, then can I have 
 yours?" 
 
 "I don't know," her mother replied; "I 
 should have to make it over if you did take 
 it. Maybe we can have a new one." 
 
 " No, we can't have a new one, I know, for 
 Aunt Deb said so, but she is going to give me 
 262 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 her brown dress and you her gray one; she 
 said so the day I helped her iron. We '11 have 
 those to make over." 
 
 For the first time I noticed the discon- 
 tented lines on our hostess's face, and it sud- 
 denly occurred to me that we were in the 
 house of the Bishop's second wife. Before I 
 knew I was coming on this journey I thought 
 of a dozen questions I wanted to ask the 
 Bishop, but I could never ask that care- 
 worn little woman anything concerning their 
 peculiar belief. However, I was spared the 
 trouble, for soon the children retired and the 
 conversation drifted around to Mormonism 
 and polygamy; and our hostess seemed to 
 want to talk, so I just listened, for Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy rather likes to " argufy " ; but 
 she had no argument that night, only her 
 questions started our hostess's story. 
 
 She had been married to the Bishop not 
 
 long before the manifesto, and he had been 
 
 married several years then to Debbie. But 
 
 Debbie had no children, and all the money 
 
 263 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 the Bishop had to start with had been his first 
 wife's ; so when it became necessary for him 
 to discard a wife it was a pretty hard ques- 
 tion for him because a little child was coming 
 to the second wife and he had nothing to pro- 
 vide for her with except what his first wife's 
 money paid for. The first wife said she would 
 consent to him starting the second, if she 
 filed on land and paid her back a small sum 
 every year until it was all paid back. So he 
 took the poor "second," after formally re- 
 nouncing her, and helped her to file on the 
 land she now lives on. He built her a small 
 cabin, and so she started her career as a 
 1 ' second . " I suppose the ' ' first ' ' thought she 
 would be rid of the second, who had never 
 really been welcome, although the Bishop 
 could never have married a "second" with- 
 out her consent. 
 
 "I would never consent," said Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you would if you had been raised 
 a Mormon," said our hostess. "You see, we 
 264 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 were all of us children of polygamous parents. 
 We have been used to plural marriages all 
 our lives. We believe that such experience 
 fits us for our after-life, as we are only prepar- 
 ing for life beyond while here." 
 
 "Do you expect to go to heaven, and do 
 you think the man who married you and then 
 discarded you will go to heaven too?" asked 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. 
 
 "Of course I do," she replied. 
 
 "Then," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, "I am 
 afraid if it had been mysilf I'd have been 
 after raising a little hell here intirely." 
 
 Our hostess was not offended, and there 
 followed a long recital of earlier-day hard 
 times that you would scarcely believe any 
 one could live through. It seems the first 
 wife in such families is boss, and while they 
 do not live in the same homes, still she can 
 very materially affect the other's comfort. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy asked her if she had 
 married again. 
 
 She said, "No." 
 
 265 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 "Then," said Mrs. O'Shaughnessy, " whose 
 children are these?" 
 
 "My own," she replied. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy was relentless. "Who 
 is their father?" she asked. 
 
 I was right sorry for the poor little woman 
 as she stammered, "I — I don't know." 
 
 Then she went on, "Of course I do know, 
 and I don't believe you are spying to try 
 to stir up trouble for my husband. Bishop 
 D is their father, as he is still my hus- 
 band, although he had to cast me off to save 
 himself and me. I love him and I see no 
 wrong in him. All the Gentiles have against 
 him is he is a little too smart for them. 'T was 
 their foolish law that made him wrong the 
 children and me, and not his wishes." 
 
 "But," Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said, "it 
 places your children in such a plight; they 
 can't inherit, they can't even claim his name, 
 they have no status legally." 
 
 "Oh, but the Bishop will see to that," the 
 little woman answered. 
 266 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy asked her if she had 
 still to work as hard as she used to. 
 
 "No, I don't believe I do," she said, " for 
 
 since Mr. D has been Bishop, things 
 
 come easier. He built this house with his 
 own money, so Deb has nothing to do with 
 it." 
 
 I asked her if she thought she was as happy 
 as " second" as she would be if she was the 
 only wife. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know," she said, "perhaps 
 not. Deb and me don't always agree. She 
 is jealous of the children and because I am 
 younger, and I get to feeling bad when I 
 think she is perfectly safe as a wife and has 
 no cares. She has everything she wants, and 
 I have to take what I can get, and my chil- 
 dren have to wait upon her. But it will all 
 come right somewhere, sometime," she ended 
 cheerfully, as she wiped her eyes with her 
 apron. 
 
 I felt so sorry for her and so ashamed to 
 have seen into her sorrow that I was really 
 267 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 glad next morning when I heard Mr. Beeler's 
 cheerful voice calling, "All aboard!" 
 
 We had just finished breakfast, and few 
 
 would ever guess that Mrs. D knew a 
 
 trial ; she was so cheerful and so cordial as she 
 bade us good-bye and urged us to stop with 
 her every time we passed through. 
 
 About noon that day we reached the rail- 
 road. The snow had delayed the train farther 
 north, so for once we were glad to have to 
 wait for a train, as it gave us time to get 
 a bite to eat and to wash up a bit. It was 
 not long, however, till we were comfortably 
 seated in the train. I think a train ride might 
 not be so enjoyable to most, but to us it 
 was a delight; I even enjoyed looking at the 
 Negro porter, although I suspect he expected 
 to be called Mister. I found very soon after 
 coming West that I must not say "Uncle" or 
 "Aunty" as I used to at home. 
 
 It was not long until they called the name 
 of the town at which we wanted to stop. 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy had a few acquaintances 
 268 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 there, but we went to a hotel. We were both 
 tired, so as soon as we had supper we went to 
 bed. The house we stopped at was warmer 
 and more comfortable than the average hotel 
 in the West, but the partitions were very 
 thin, so when a couple of " punchers," other- 
 wise cowboys, took the room next to ours, we 
 could hear every word they said. 
 
 It appears that one was English and the 
 other a tenderfoot. The tenderfoot was in 
 love with a girl who had filed on a homestead 
 near the ranch on which he was employed, 
 but who was then a waitress in the hotel we 
 were at. She had not seemed kind to the 
 tenderfoot and he was telling his friend about 
 it. The Englishman was trying to instruct 
 him as to how to proceed. 
 
 " You need to be very circumspect, Johnny, 
 where females are concerned, but you must 
 n't be too danged timid either." 
 
 " I don't know what the devil to say to her; 
 I can barely nod my head when she asks me 
 will I take tea or coffee; and to-night she 
 269 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 mixed it because I nodded yes when she said, 
 1 tea or coffee,' and it was the dangdest mess I 
 ever tried to get outside of." 
 
 "Well," the friend counseled, "you just 
 get her into a corner some'eres and say to 'er, 
 'Dearest 'Attie, I hoffer you my 'and hand 
 my 'eart.'" 
 
 "But I can't" wailed Johnny. "I could 
 never get her into a corner anyway." 
 
 "If you can't, you're not hold enough to 
 marry then. What the 'ell would you do with 
 a woman in the 'ouse if you could n't corner 
 'er? I tell 'e, women 'ave to 'ave a master, 
 and no man better tackle that job until 'e 
 can be sure 'e can make 'er walk the chalk- 
 line." 
 
 "But I don't want her to walk any line; I 
 just want her to speak to me." 
 
 " Dang me if I don't believe you are locoed. 
 Why, she 's got 'e throwed hand 'og-tied now. 
 What d'e want to make it any worse for?" 
 
 They talked for a long time and the Eng- 
 lishman continued to have trouble with his 
 270 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 h's; but at last Johnny was encouraged to 
 "corner "car" next morning before they left 
 for their ranch. 
 
 We expected to be astir early anyway, and 
 our curiosity impelled us to see the outcome 
 of the friend's counsel, so we were almost the 
 first in the dining-room next morning. A 
 rather pretty girl was busy arranging the 
 tables, and soon a boyish-looking fellow, 
 wearing great bat- wing chaps, came in and 
 stood warming himself at the stove. 
 
 I knew at once it was Johnny, and I saw 
 "'Attie" blush. The very indifference with 
 which she treated him argued well for his 
 cause, but of course he did n't know that. So 
 when she passed by him and her skirt caught 
 on his big spurs they both stooped at once to 
 unfasten it ; their heads hit together with such 
 a bump that the ice was broken, although 
 he seemed to think it was her skull. I am 
 sure there ought to be a thaw after all his 
 apologies. After breakfast Mrs. O'Shaugh- 
 nessy went out to see her friend Cormac 
 271 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 OToole. He was the only person in town 
 we could hope to get a team from with which 
 to continue our journey. This is a hard coun- 
 try on horses at best, and at this time of the 
 year particularly so ; few will let their teams 
 go out at any price, but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 had hopes, and she is so persuasive that I felt 
 no one could resist her. There was a drum- 
 mer at breakfast who kept "cussing" the 
 country. He had tried to get a conveyance 
 and had failed; so the cold, the snow, the 
 people, and everything else disgusted him. 
 
 Soon Mrs. O'Shaughnessy returned, and 
 as the drummer was trying to get out to 
 
 E , and that was our destination also, 
 
 she made her way toward him, intending to 
 invite him to ride with us. She wore over her 
 best clothes an old coat that had once be- 
 longed to some one of her men friends. It had 
 once been bearskin, but was now more bare 
 skin, so her appearance was against her; she 
 looked like something with the mange. So 
 Mr. Drummer did not wait to hear what she 
 272 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 was going to say but at once exclaimed, " No, 
 madam, I cannot let you ride out with me. I 
 can't get a rig myself in this beastly place." 
 Then he turned to a man standing near and 
 remarked, "These Western women are so 
 bold they don't hesitate to demand favors." 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy's eyes fairly snapped, 
 but she said nothing. I think she took a ma- 
 licious delight in witnessing the drummer's 
 chagrin when a few moments later our com- 
 fortable sleigh and good strong team appeared. 
 
 We were going to drive ourselves, but we 
 had to drive to the depot for our suit-cases ; 
 but when we got there the ticket-office was 
 not open, so the agent was probably having 
 his beauty sleep. There was a fire in the big 
 stove, and we joined the bunch of men in the 
 depot. Among them we noticed a thin, con- 
 sumptive-looking fellow, evidently a stranger. 
 
 Very soon some men began talking of some 
 
 transaction in which a Bishop B was 
 
 concerned. It seemed they did n't admire 
 
 the Bishop very much; they kept talking of 
 
 273 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 his peculiarities and transgressions, and men- 
 tioned his treatment of his wives. His "sec- 
 ond," they said, was blind because of cata- 
 racts, and, although abundantly able, he left 
 her in darkness. She had never seen her two 
 last children. Some one spoke up and said, 
 "I thought polygamy was no longer prac- 
 ticed." Then the man explained that they no 
 longer contracted plural marriages, but that 
 
 many kept all their wives and B still had 
 
 both of his. He went on to say that although 
 such practice is contrary to law, it was almost 
 impossible to make a case against them, for 
 the women would not swear against their 
 
 husbands. B had been arrested once, 
 
 but his second swore that she did n't know 
 who her children's father was, and it cost the 
 sheriff his office the next election. 
 
 Mrs. O'Shaughnessy spoke to an acquaint- 
 ance of hers and mentioned where we were 
 going. In a short while we got our suit-cases 
 and we were off, but as we drove past the 
 freight depot, the stranger we had noticed 
 274 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 came down the steps and asked us to let him 
 ride out with us. I really felt afraid of him, 
 but Mrs. O'Shaughnessy thinks herself a 
 match for any mere man, so she drew up and 
 the man climbed in. He took the lines and 
 we snuggled down under the robes and lis- 
 tened to the runners, shrill screeching over 
 the frozen surface. 
 
 We had dinner with a new settler, and 
 about two o'clock that afternoon we over- 
 took a fellow who was plodding along the 
 
 road. His name was B , he said, and he 
 
 pointed out to us his broad fields and herds. 
 He had been overseeing some feeders he had, 
 and his horse had escaped, so he was walking 
 home, as it was only a couple of miles. He 
 talked a great deal in that two-mile trip ; too 
 much for his own good, it developed. 
 
 For the first time since B climbed into 
 
 our sleigh, the stranger spoke. " Can you tell 
 me where Mrs. Belle B lives?" he asked. 
 
 "Why, yes," our passenger replied. "She 
 is a member of our little flock. She is slightly 
 275 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 related to me, as you perhaps noticed the 
 name, and I will show you to her house." 
 
 "Just how is she related to you?" the 
 stranger asked. 
 
 "That," the man replied, "is a matter of 
 protection. I have given her the protection 
 of my name." 
 
 "Then she is your wife, is she not?" the 
 stranger asked. 
 
 "You must be a stranger in this country," 
 the man evaded . ' ' What is your name ? ' ' 
 
 But the stranger did n't seem to hear, and 
 just then we came opposite the residence of 
 the Bishop, and the man we had picked up in 
 the road said, "That is my home, won't you 
 get out and warm? My wife will be glad to 
 get acquainted with you ladies." 
 
 We declined, as it was only a short distance 
 to the house of the man Mrs. O'Shaughnessy 
 had come to see, so he stayed in the sleigh to 
 show the stranger to the house of Mrs. Belle 
 
 B . I can't say much for it as a house, 
 
 and I was glad I did n't have to go in. The 
 276 
 
AMONG THE MORMONS 
 
 stranger and B got out and entered the 
 
 house, and we drove away. 
 
 Next morning, as we returned through the 
 little village, it was all excitement. Bishop 
 
 B had been shot the night before, just 
 
 as he had left the house of Mrs. Belle B , 
 
 for what reason or by whom no one knew; 
 and if the Bishop knew he had not told, for 
 he either would not or could not talk. 
 
 They were going to start with him that day 
 to the hospital, but they had no hopes of his 
 living. 
 
 When we came to Mrs. Belle's house, Mrs. 
 O'Shaughnessy got out of the sleigh and 
 went into the house. I could hear her sooth- 
 ing voice, and I was mighty glad the poor, 
 forlorn woman had such a comforter. 
 
 I was so very glad to get home. How good 
 it all looked to me! " Poop o' Roome" has a 
 calf, and as we drove up to the corral Clyde 
 was trying to get it into the stall with the 
 rest. It is " Poop's " first calf, and she is very 
 277 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 proud of it, and objected to its being put 
 away from her, so she bunted at Clyde, and 
 as he dodged her, the calf ran between his feet 
 and he sat down suddenly in the snow. I 
 laughed at him, but I am powerfully glad he 
 is no follower of old Joseph Smith. 
 
 Mrs. Louderer was enjoying herself im- 
 mensely, she loves children so much. She 
 and Clyde hired the "Tackier" — so called 
 because he will tackle any kind of a job, 
 whether he knows anything about it or not — 
 to paper the room. He thinks he is a great 
 judge of the fitness of things and of beauty. 
 The paper has a stripe of roses, so Tackier 
 reversed every other strip so that some of 
 my roses are standing on their heads. Roses 
 don't all grow one way, he claims, and so his 
 method "makes 'em look more nachul like." 
 
 A little thing like wall-paper put on upside 
 down don't bother me; but what would I do 
 if I were a "second"? 
 
 Your loving friend, 
 
 Elinore Rupert Stewart. 
 
XXVI 
 
 SUCCESS 
 
 November, 19 13. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Coney, — 
 
 This is Sunday and I suppose I ought not 
 to be writing, but I must write to you and 
 I may not have another chance soon. Both 
 your letters have reached me, and now that 
 our questions are settled we can proceed to 
 proceed. 
 
 Now, this is the letter I have been wanting 
 to write you for a long time, but could not 
 because until now I had not actually proven 
 all I wanted to prove. Perhaps it will not inter- 
 est you, but if you see a woman who wants to 
 homestead and is a little afraid she will starve, 
 you can tell her what I am telling you. 
 
 I never did like to theorize, and so this 
 year I set out to prove that a woman could 
 ranch if she wanted to. We like to grow pota- 
 279 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 toes on new ground, that is, newly cleared 
 land on which no crop has been grown. Few 
 weeds grow on new land, so it makes less work. 
 So I selected my potato-patch, and the man 
 ploughed it, although I could have done that 
 if Clyde would have let me. I cut the pota- 
 toes, Jerrine helped, and we dropped them 
 in the rows. The man covered them, and 
 that ends the man's part. By that time the 
 garden ground was ready, so I planted the 
 garden. I had almost an acre in vegetables. 
 I irrigated and I cultivated it myself. 
 
 We had all the vegetables we could pos- 
 sibly use, and now Jerrine and I have put in 
 our cellar full, and this is what we have: one 
 large bin of potatoes (more than two tons), 
 half a ton of carrots, a large bin of beets, one 
 of turnips, one of onions, one of parsnips, and 
 on the other side of the cellar we have more 
 than one hundred heads of cabbage. I have 
 experimented and found a kind of squash 
 that can be raised here, and that the ripe 
 ones keep well and make good pies ; also that 
 280 
 
SUCCESS 
 
 the young tender ones make splendid pickles, 
 quite equal to cucumbers. I was glad to 
 stumble on to that, because pickles are hard 
 to manufacture when you have nothing to 
 work with. Now I have plenty. They told 
 me when I came that I could not even raise 
 common beans, but I tried and succeeded. 
 And also I raised lots of green tomatoes, and, 
 as we like them preserved, I made them all up 
 that way. Experimenting along another line, 
 I found that I could make catchup, as deli- 
 cious as that of tomatoes, of gooseberries. I 
 made it exactly the same as I do the tomatoes 
 and I am delighted. Gooseberries were very 
 fine and very plentiful this year, so I put up 
 a great many. I milked ten cows twice a day 
 all summer; have sold enough butter to pay 
 for a year's supply of flour and gasoline. We 
 use a gasoline lamp. I have raised enough 
 chickens to completely renew my flock, and 
 all we wanted to eat, and have some fryers 
 to go into the winter with. I have enough 
 turkeys for all of our birthdays and holidays. 
 281 
 
A WOMAN HOMESTEADER 
 
 I raised a great many flowers and I worked 
 several days in the field. In all I have told 
 about I have had no help but Jerrine. Clyde's 
 mother spends each summer with us, and she 
 helped me with the cooking and the babies. 
 Many of my neighbors did better than I did, 
 although I know many town people would 
 doubt my doing so much, but I did it. I have 
 tried every kind of work this ranch affords, 
 and I can do any of it. Of course I am extra 
 strong, but those who try know that strength 
 and knowledge come with doing. I just love 
 to experiment, to work, and to prove out 
 things, so that ranch life and "roughing it" 
 just suit me. 
 
 THE END 
 
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