pages 69-75

I’ll have to admit though, as we looked back once more at our home and as we boarded the trolley for that last trip to Norfolk, there were tears in our eyes. Mother was dabbing at hers quite frequently for she was taking it a bit hard. My brother and wife, Ida, and baby had spent a few days with her relatives before leaving. In Norfolk they joined us at the train depot just before take off time. There was much waving and good-byes, as the conductor called out “all aboard,” from the folks who had gathered to see us off., “Well, it’s Westward we are bound,” my father said after we were all seated. Mother looked up and smiled a bit but you could still see a wee trace of a tear there, when the train lurched and pulled out from the big station. Finally at last we were on our way to a country and its customs strange to us.
The trip had been wonderful and so far I was enjoying it, and I think the others were also. Soon we were in rolling country and I kept thinking it may, not be long until I would be seeing those beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains which I had dreamed of so much. Finally pulling into Richmond, Virginia, the capitol, and here we changed trains. I’ll never forget those long steep hills right in the city of Richmond. We walked up and down that windy March day in the year of nineteen hundred and nine. While waiting we went to a cafe for lunch and then returned to the depot in time to hear the man call out our train. Picking up our suitcases, we were once more seated in the Pullman car. When the conductor began calling all aboard for points West and mentioned the towns by name, I knew then we would soon be off again.
The whistle blew and the bell started clanging and the train was rolling out of the depot. Then the conductor came down the isle calling, “tickets, have your tickets ready.” I was at home again, in my thoughts, on the school trolley. How familiar were those words. I could see myself getting my school ticket book out and handing it to the trolley conductor. He would tear out the required tickets and I hand it back to me and for a moment I was dreaming amidst all of this.
I was wondering about the old crowd that rode the school trolley and who eddy would be saving a seat for and who Maggie would pick for a pal, who Ethel would confide in and who would take my place reciting the long poems at church affairs. I was always the one picked because I memorized them so easily. Would the little girl like my pony I had left behind as well as I did? Would she treat him nice and give him a lump of sugar before she took him out for a canter? Would she see that he was fed well as I did for him. My cat Boots I had rescued from a watery grave out of a sack in Julian’s Creek - would
the folks that bought the place see that he had his saucer of milk each day? Would the little red squirrels that chattered so and seemed to fly from limb to limb miss my calling and talking as I entered their domain and rode among them or sat quietly listening to the whispering of the pine trees sighing from the wind with their sweet scented pine needles. I was remembering too the little cottontail rabbits that scurried by and would sometimes sit up on their hind legs to see just who was coming and the birds singing sweetly among the pine boughs. I was leaving all this behind. Maybe the West would be better.
Opening my pocketbook, I found Frank’s last letter, unopened and unread. Leaning my head back against the seat I began to read. He summed it up this way. “Wherever you go, I wonder if you will ever be able to entirely forget what you are leaving behind?” “No,” I thought to myself, for I was already remembering and would always remember for they were precious years, childhood days that leave an imprint on one’s memory. I must have dozed off when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mama said, “we are going to have dinner now.” About that time the porter came through the car calling, “dinner, dinner, now being served in the dining car.” We made our way there and waited to be seated. My brother and wife had to have the porter get them some milk for the baby. Ida nursed the baby but never had enough so gave her the bottle to help out.
That night was the first time I had slept on a train. I happened to get the lower berth and my sister the upper. I guess I was tired for I only gazed out for awhile at the lights and things that could be seen that moonlight night as the train sped past. The bed was very comfortable and in a short while I was fast asleep.
I awakened and rose early the next morning. I had that habit from having to be at the station on time for the school trolley. I dressed and went to the dressing room to wash my face and comb my hair. Returning to my berth I found the porter already making some of the beds. My sister had passed me on the way as I was coming back. “Good morning, Miss.” He said. “If you’ll wait a bit I’ll have that berth made up so you can have your seat.” I sat in one just across the way. As he finished, my sister came back. We both sat down together and she proceeded to answer some letters she had failed to do before leaving. We talked some at the same time.
For she was the quiet one about going West. At last she brought out her thoughts on the matter saying, “do you think this was a good idea, going West?” “Well,” I said, “I hope so but right now we haven’t gotten far enough away to know.” She thought again and looking out the window said, “I don’t think it is.” I said, “let’s cross that bridge when we really get to Montana.”
About then folks began moving out to the dining car as the porter went through announcing breakfast was ready. I was feeling refreshed and fine after my good night’s rest and breakfast. My sister seemed to be a bit blue and unhappy as though she were leaving something she would lose forever. She read and re-read Sidney’s last letter and would write a little each time she read parts of it. Feeling she wanted to be alone, I slipped out into another seat. “We would not change cars any more until we got to Chicago,” I said to my father and mother who were sitting right behind me. “That’s what the conductor said,” father replied. Someone had left a magazine in the seat so I picked it up and busied myself with looking through its pages. I found an interesting story and read in between looking out of the window at scenes, as we went by.
We did not have to change trains in Chicago as we thought. Instead, ours or the main coaches of the train were backed’ onto a siding and another engine hooked on and took off. I guess they did that way because it was late and a lot of pullman travelers had retired for the night. My folks said we’d better wait. Finally the conductor came in and said passengers in the pullmans would not change trains. The porter came and fixed our berths for us. So we were in bed when the other train backed up and hooked on. With a jolt, a jerk, a bell ringing and whistle blowing we were off once again, Westward bound.
That was too much noise for me to sleep. So I gazed out of the window at the railyard and at what I thought was snow proved to be right for it was snowing against the window and right then it seemed much colder. In fact it was for we were farther west and had left the
sunny south. Flowers were blooming there and people were putting in gardens when we left. In fact, the people that bought our place were wanting to get moved in as soon as they could so they could get a garden in. Anyway I was enjoying the trip and was still enthused about it all. Yes, we knew it would be colder, for Havre, Montana on the Milk River was pretty close to the Canadian line.

Somehow I wasn’t sleepy that night so I turned my little light on in the berth and wrote several cards. I can still hear the clack to clack of the rails or wheels on rails, whatever it was, as I sat there in the still hours of the night. I could hear people shoring and once in awhile someone would get out to go to the restroom. I would hear them brush my curtain as they went by. My sister leaned over from the top berth and wanted to know what I was doing. Said she couldn’t sleep either but somewhere between there and morning I fell asleep. I must have slep pretty soundly for mama reached in and shook me and said get up. Later we all went to breakfast.
And when we got to Saint Paul, Minnesota, we really did have to change trains and my was it cold! Snow every place and as we walked from the train to the depot you could see our breath like a steam engine. However the wait wasn’t too long before they started calling out our train and on what track it was and the cities it went through.
Father said come on let’s get up to the gate before the crowd gets ahead of us. So we picked up our suitcases and started. Seeing we had made a start caused all of them to get in line. The conductor was saying, “tickets, show your tickets,” as we passed through the gate.
One reason we changed trains there was we had to change to another railroad. The bunch was crowding in on my mother, being a little short. Father took her arm and too a young man stepped up and took her arm to assist her on, out of the crowd. Finally in and seated. This young man, a nice looking blond, sat just across from me. After the train pulled out he asked if he might sit with me. I smiled and nodded and he sat down. Said he was from Cut Bank, Montana, and had been in St. Paul, Minnesota, visiting some of his folks. He had a couple of magazines and we looked at them and talked. Finally he got around to asking me where I was from. I said the “sunny south lands” and told him where we were going. I said I had a married sister living out there. Well he went on, “you’ll find this a much different country and much colder than Virginia.” I replied by saying I had already found that out. I looked back and noticed another young man had also asked to sit by my sister and they seemed to be enjoying one another’s company and the trip, too.
Here the train sped on through the snowy country side and every mile seemed to be colder, when we’d stop at cities and places where we could look outside or step off of the train for a minute or two we soon got into the Dakotas, that is North and South Dakota, it was much colder still. I then began to wonder what Montana would be like as I looked out over those vast plains or prairie country. Sometimes one could see nothing for miles, only snow and little villages or small towns and cities along the railroad. Yet, there were people trying to make a living out there. Of course, that was in 1909. Before we were through the Dakotas, we got into a raging blizzard and there were snowplows along the tracks to keep them clean with crews of men to man them. They also used shovels. I was glad when we got out of the Dakotas and into Montana. It was night time though when we crossed the line so I thought we were still in the Dakotas from the vastness of the plains that stretched out as far as your eyes could see. When finally the conductor came through the train and announced we were now traveling in the state of Montana. I began to gaze out into the distance. A feeling of loneliness crept over me. Is this what we are coming to? Our home loomed up before me and all the things we had left behind, lovely home, trees, crops and ‘things worthwhile. As I thought, a voice said, “may I sit with you again?” I looked up and nodded. There was the same young man. He said, “I want to tell you this is the worst part of Montana. You may not like any of it for awhile. You see, I grew up out here but my folks were easterners. I remember how homesick mother used to get to return to our old home in the East. Finally after many years father took her back. That one trip was enough. She never wanted to go again after that. She exclaimed on her return, the west is mine. I am a part of it. I never want to return again to the East. Why, the very air you breathe out here makes one feel alive and ready to do things.” he finished.
Neither of us had asked the other’s name until just about time for him to get off at his station. Finally he said, “I am going to be leaving you pretty soon and I thought I’d give you my address.” .He handed me a card with his name printed on it and said, I would like yours in return. We might like to write to each other and I would be interested in knowing if you like Montana.” I hastily wrote mine on a card from my purse and handed it to him while gazing at the name on the card he had given me. I said, “so James is your first name?” “Yes,” he said, “but everybody calls me Jim.” Well, I thought, this is the second Jim.
The hours soon flew by and toward evening the conductor came through calling out, “Cut Bank, all out for Cut Bank.” Getting his suitcases ready and putting on his overcoat, Jim said, “this has been a very pleasant visit. I have enjoyed your company so much.” He picked up his suitcases as the train came to a standstill and the conductor called out one more time, “all out.” On the platform, Jim went past the window where I was sitting, smiled, waved and tipped his hat and vanished into the night.
That next morning we arrived at Havre. It was such a bright sunny day and only a few patches of snow, here and there, could be seen from the car window. Getting off we noticed it was quite chilly in the high mountains, enough so that one wanted to pull their collars up around their neck. My sister and I just wrapped our furs a little closer around us.
My sister Sallie and husband were about thirty miles away up in the Bearpaw Mountains and were unable, at the time, to meet us so we went directly to the hotel. There we stayed until our freight car of furniture arrived.
The next day my sister and husband came. They were overjoyed to see us. Sallie laughed and said. “My prediction came true. I am in Montana and I am living in a log cabin on a ranch, as I said when I first heard of my husband-to-be. But, at the time I didn’t know it.” We all got quite a laugh out of it. Pruden spoke up and said, “we’ll soon just be about one mile and a half from Havre. We’ll be moving to a ranch on the Milk River.
.We were at the hotel about a week before our freight car of goods arrived. Father had a house all rented and ready so we were soon moved in and comfortable.
We had only been there about two weeks when Pruden’s sister was to be married. The wedding was to be at his parents home in the Bearpaw’s. Pruden’s brother came to get us, that is my sister and I, in one of those mountain spring wagons with a large bay team hitched to it. It was about three thirty or four p.m. The evenings were cold in that high altitude and mama was afraid we’d take cold driving thirty miles that time of day with a team. I wanted to go. I wanted to see a Montana mountain wedding and square dance but my sister wouldn’t go with me. It was left to me to tell him we were sorry but we couldn’t go and explained why. To this day I wished I had gone anyway. The next time my brother-in-law saw me he said, “I know why you didn’t come. You were just too hightone to come to one of our mountain weddings and square dances.” “Oh, no!” I protested. “You know me better than that.” Then mama saved the day by telling him why, I said, “If he had come earlier we would have gone. You know we are not used to this cold country.” “Yes,” Pruden said, “I felt that was the main reason, but there sure was a lot of fellows there to meet you for word got whispered around you were coming.” He finished by saying they had danced most of the night. That Sunday at church we met a couple of nice fellows, Joe and John, that we went with just part of the time for we didn’t want to be tied down to anyone.
The days seemed long there. After supper my sister and I would go for walks. We’d walk to the end of the side walk and then climb the hill in search of pretty rocks and early spring flowers. That was a nice pastime. Upon returning we would play the piano or entertain company when they called. Then off to bed, tired enough to sleep well.
I remember Easter Sunday. It came in the middle of April that year or about that. We dressed up in our spring suits and hats and, started out. Such a lovely day, but when the services was about halt over we heard a wind and something like a pelting rain. When we came out everything was covered with snow by a driving blizzard which was still in progress. Being only a couple of blocks from where we lived, my sister and I, good at foot racing, took out. We heard someone call we’ll take you home but we were soon home. Those were horse and buggy days and most people who came had had their buggys and wagons already loaded with more than they could accommodate. We were somewhat wet though and the flowers on our spring hats were a bit droopy but it was so much fun, and we enjoyed being in a Montana blizzard for that short length of time. The next day my mother said, “you girls better answer your letters. You seem to be collecting quite a few. I had received one each from the last Jim and the Jim back home and one from Frank. My sister had several to answer also. She said, “You know what? I think I’ll just quit writing to them. They are so far away and I am not going to leave my family and go back there to live even if they did come out here for me. In that way they’ll know there’s no hope and get someone else.” “Well,” I said, “that’s fine but mine are not serious. We are only writing for the fun of it. Or maybe, she went on, “I’ll tell them I have someone out here I am going with for Sidney’s last letter states he’s coming out here to take me back. If I encourage him he will and I am having too much fun to marry and settle down right now.”
We were writing these letters in the dining room. It was a good home we were renting, three bedrooms upstairs, a large parlor, dining room and kitchen downstairs. Across the street from us was a large, nice home that belonged to one of Montana’s sheep men. He came in there in the early days and married a pretty Indian maiden. Their children were quite nice looking and he was educating them well in music and sending them to college.
Havre, in 1909, was a small town but there were a lot of pretty homes in it. My sister and I, for lack of something to do, enjoyed walking around the streets taking inventory of the different homes and how they were built by looking at them from the sidewalk.
On good days we’d set out for a hike of a mile and a half across rolling, rocky country to the ranch on the Milk river where Sallie and Pruden lived. It was a wonderful walk. We d hunt for pretty rocks and wild flowers as we strolled along, scaring up a chipmunk or
ground squirrel here and there. We loved to watch them sit upon their hole or mound and chatter. Now and again a jack rabbit or a big old snowshoe rabbit, at the sound of our feet crunching in the fine pebbles, would scurry away into the brush. Sometimes we’d pick up
a small rock and throw it to see them scurry on faster to another place of refuge. This was fun. Just before we got to the neat little white ranch home in the valley there was a long sloping hill that we would always run down to get to the house. Sometimes we would go by the road alongside of Milk River. This gurgling, rushing stream with willows growing on its banks and the black birds whistling among their branches, was always a milky color. The old maggie pie calling out every little bit was an interesting sight. Sometimes my sister would have other things she would want to do and I’d walk these trips alone. With the brisk morning air blowing across my face and inhaling its clean fresh atmosphere filled with ozone, my thoughts would wander back to our old home or the little pine forest on the eighty.
Here too, the prairie dogs, as I passed, sat on their little mounds of earth keeping up an endless chatter. Sometimes cowboys have been thrown from their horses and their horse would wind up with a broken leg from galloping along and stepping in a prairie dog hole.
I d stay a day or two. My brother-in-law who had batched quite a lot on his ranch before meeting and marrying my sister, liked to get up and get the breakfast. His pet name for Sallie was Petsie. When he’d get it ready he’d go to her bedroom door and say, “Petsie, I’ve got it ready. You get up and get the table set and the milk and cream while I go out to feed, harness, and milk the cow. I’ll be back in a little while and eat.” And when he’d get that breakfast of cowboy drop biscuits, oatmeal, coffee, eggs and bacon and the aroma of it started drifting through the house. You were awake right now, for one did not lack for an appetite in that country.