Migration of Cates Family  
A Remembrance of 20 Years in the Great Northwest
written by 
Byron Thomas Cates
 



     I left Minetto, New York, partly on the advise of David Page who's summer home bordered our property. I asked him for a job in the Columbia Mills and his answer was he didn't have any at that time but he had understood that I was going west. I explained that I, and a few other lads, had talked about it but they had all backed out and I didn't think much of starting out on my own. Mr. Page said he thought it would be a good thing for any young man to do, get out and see the west. He said "When you get back, possibly you can get a better view of things back here."

    I reached St. Louis one December day 1903, the World's Fair was going to start there in 1904 and I thought I might find work there. I knew one man in St. Louis, Seth Bascomb of Minetto and I looked him up the next day. Seth was a clerk in the office of the Washburn Railroad and he introduced me to the Superintendant of Transportation, David I. Forsyth, who was born and raised in Oswego, New York, which is the reason, I am inclined to say, he gave me a job in his office. He had a brother in the Water Dept. in Oswego and every trip I made east during the 3 years I worked there, I had to look up his relatives for him. He was a wonderful man, one of the best men for a boss that I have ever known and he had lived long enough in the west so that he had that true western spirit. He would take young fellows on in his office, train them, then help them get work.

    Among the thousands of people out there, I found out what it really means to be homesick. I spent many a day later on the plains of the northwest where there was no neighbors within many miles and at times you didn't see anyone for days or weeks at a time, but I was never as much alone, it seemed to me, as I was those first few months in St. Louis.

    We had a neighbor family in New York who always seemed like relatives to me, one of the boys, Bruce Dutton, had gone up into North Dakota while I was in St. Louis. He went to work for a lady formerly from Fulton, New York, Anna Petrie, she and her sister had gone to North Dakota about 20 years prior, one age 18 the other 20. They each filed on 160 acres of land just outside of Linton. They bought a team and other necessities and built a small house. To borrow a wagon they had to travel two miles in either direction to
reach a neighbor. Eventually one of them taught school and finally they got enough money together to start a store. One of them ran the store while the other freighted goods from the railroad about 75 miles away. As it would take several days to make the trip over the rough roads with horses, she had to hobble or picket her horses then sleep under the wagon at night.

    At that time there were many Indians in that country, in fact there were plenty 20 years later when I went there. But the girls had nerve and initiative and they prospered. They never married, they had an agreement that if one should die the other should have the property they worked so hard for. At the time Bruce reached there, one had died and Anna, the survivor, owned about 3000 acres of land and rented about 2000 more to run her stock on. She had 300 head of cattle and about 100 horses, headed by a thoroughbred she had shipped in from England at a cost of $2000, and with her hired help, she was running the ranch alone.

    Bruce had been writing me all the time after he reached North Dakota that he would like to file a homestead and wanted to know if I didn't want to file with him. I had taken a night course in stenography and was working at this in the office, and as Mr. Forsythe had been so nice in everything, I really hated to quit. I finally decided to go up with Bruce and Mr. Forsythe secured me a pass from St. Louis into the Dakotas.

   The Milwaukee Railroad at that time had only built into the edge of South Dakota, but had surveyed on thru to the coast. We decided that by crossing the Missouri River we could file on land near where the railroad would probably go thru. We bought a team from the Miss Petrie Ranch, on time, and then bought a wagon, harness and outfit for the trip. We filed at Seim, South Dakota on the Grand River, our land was 12 miles north, each of us on 160 acres. The land was good, but we were about 85 miles from the nearest
railroad in Glen Ullin, North Dakota. We had neighbors that taught us how to build sod houses, they were cool in the summer and warm in the winter and were very popular in those days.

    Within a few months after we established our residence, the Milwaukee started building their line thru toward the west. They built the town of Lemmon, South Dakota at the nearest possible point to us, about 1 1/2 miles north. During the time we were waiting for the railroad, we saw hardly anyone. We could look out across our place just about any day and see antelope and coyotes running over them. Sometimes the antelope would come up near the buildings as if to find out what we were doing in there. And one trip we made with our team a couple wolves followed us for several miles.

     During our wait for the railroad, we decided to take our saddle horses and go into Montana to see if we could buy some work horses, as we had decided that if the railroad did come there would be a lot of freight to haul and we would need horses. It was on that trip that I discovered the true western hospitality of which the poets wrote. We had nothing to eat with us and no beds. The ranches were few and far between but at every place we struck, we were treated as though we were old friends. We were invited in, help us take care of our horses, get us meals, fix us a bed and  try to keep us a day or two longer. There were no exceptions and they all acted as though they were truly sorry to see us go. If it was evening and we came to a ranch house and no one was home, we would take care of our horses and go in the house, which were never locked, look up their cupboards and get our own supper. There was always plenty to eat, bacon, ham, eggs and
other things with which to get a good meal for someone who had been riding all day. If they came home while you were there, it was always the same, glad to see us. We would stay all night and sleep in their beds and that was what all travelers were expected to do. There was just one thing they expected of anyone, that was to wash your own dishes. Of course Bruce and I were always glad to do that.

    We didn't buy any horses on that trip, but we did make one horse trade. We stayed one night at the O-X Ranch. They were all away except for one man that worked there. The pony I was riding wasn't worth much, it was a small sorrel mare about 800 pounds, lazy and not to young. The lad on the ranch said he had a nice big gelding about 1300 pounds that we might trade for. He brought him in from the pasture and that horse looked like a million dollars, he was so much bigger and better looking than ours that it seemed strange to me that he would want to trade. He said his horse was dependable and his teeth showed that he wasn't much over 7 or 8 years old, so we traded. I rode him home and though he acted different than I thought he should at the time, we figured we had made a good trade. I'll tell you more about him later.

     There was a section about 50 miles north of Lemmon on our route thru to Glen Ullin, from which we freighted, where all of the residents were German-Russian. In many instances they were unable to talk any English, and as I was told English was not taught in their schools, although I have always doubted that statement. But I do know driving thru that section, which was about 20 miles, it was often impossible to make yourself
understood. I have found it necessary to stay several nights with some of those German-Russian ranchers and they were always courteous and in most cases were prosperous, at times more than the majority of Americans in that country. I am inclined to believe one reason was the women were of husky build and helped on the ranches just as much as the men, and in some cases, more than the men.

    I remember one custom that they had that I thought was peculiar. They would cut up their pork in small square chunks and serve it on the table uncooked. They never served milk until they had boiled it. It always seemed to me they had become a bit confused in which should have been cooked, but as they were neighborly in every way, we didn't criticize.

    The homesteaders started coming into the country in hordes. It was a common sight to stand along the main trail and see 8 or 10 Parrie schooners, as covered wagons were commonly known, coming down the trail at one time. They literally came by the hundreds and filed on everything, rough land, rocky land, anything they could find. They would have chickens, cows, pigs, furniture and sometimes lumber, they were always loaded with
something. It was quite a sight and in many cases it ended in tragedy, for when the droughts came, they were forced to leave without anything. I'll never forget one family that came in at that time, they had lost one team of horses so they hitched up the cow and she was pulling her share of the load that she could. Those people had no cover on their wagon and when night came, they had to unload their stuff, which wasn't so much, turn the wagon box upside down and sleep under the box.

    Bruce and I freighted from Glen Ullin, North Dakota at this time, 85 miles one way. Roads were rough, streams has to be forded and sometimes we would be a week on a trip, sometimes less but not much. We had a four horse team and a three horse team. Within a few weeks of when Lemmon was first started there were two grocery stores and seven saloons, they all did a big business, especially the saloons. I have seen the fellows from
the grading crews come in on pay night and throw their full pay on the bar, about $20 a week that included board and rooms, and tell the crowd in the bar to drink it up, and another would do the same thing until the bartender would ring up all the money. They used horse drawn grading machines that would have 20 horses on one machine and they would buy new horses every few days and keep shifting them and putting on new ones. A man was hired as a horse buyer by the contractor and he was suppose to know all about
horses.

    At this time I would like to revert back to the nice big roan horse that we traded for out in Montana. We  weren't using him as one of the seven that we were using to haul freight with, he had principals, we discovered before we had him to long, so we kept him for company for the other horses. When we first hitched him up he would work with another horse and haul a small load a short distance, but it wasn't long before he decided that was to much work for him and it wasn't before long that he decided it was to much bother to work at all, and from that time on he wouldn't even pull a light wagon. In fact, he finally was so that he would balk in the saddle, so we just let him run loose and as we had plenty of pasture, he just stuck around and got fat. He would follow us and the other horses all over, even to the railroad and back, he was somewhat of a nuisance, as he would often get into the other horses grain and steal it from them. He was gentle and kind, was bigger and
nicer looking than any horse we had, but as I said before, he wouldn't work.

    We started for Glen Ullin one morning and in going from our place to the railroad, we drove thru Lemmon and got our orders for freight for the loads. As the horses were standing in the street, the big roan came up behind the wagon and was eating the hay that we carried for our horses. We saw Mr. Blair, the horse buyer, looking over our horses and when we came out he asked if we would sell any of them. We said yes sir, we'll sell anything and he told us to put a price on them. We told him he could take as many as he
wanted for $100 each. He said those don't look so good that have the harnesses on, but this one behind looks good to me.

    The ones in the harness were working every day and they didn't look so good because they were thin, but I explained they were really good horses and that I wasn't sure he would like the one behind. He asked why, wasn't his wind all right? I said yes, his wind was all right I think, but he's a funny disposition and really we've grown rather fond of him. He said he thought so and told me that he knew horses and he'd hitch him up and if his wind was all right then we'd get our $100. He couldn't find anything to hitch him to in
town, so he led him up and down the street. Lead good was the only thing he would do well and he had never worked enough to hurt his wind in any way, so he came back and gave us two $50 bills. Before he gave us the money we told him again that we weren't sure he'd like that horse and one of those in in harness we would guarantee. His only answer was "Young fellow, I buy horses every day, I ought to know something about horses."

    When we came back from that trip I asked a lad I knew what had happened to the roan.  He said that they took him down at the camp, but when they hitched him in with the other horses he would lay down and they would have to pull him too. So they roached his mane and brushed him all up and took him down the line and traded him to another buyer. When I delivered some goods in at one of the saloons, Mr. Blair the buyer was in there.  He said "Say boys, come on up and have a drink, I'm buying." He never mentioned the horse.

    The Dakota blizzards were at one time known all over the United States. There seems to be no place where the snow blows as fine, and there is something about the way the wind gets a sweep across those plains of Dakota, it just seems to take your breath. I have seen it so  you couldn't see your hand in front of you right in the middle of the day. I have known ranchers to have ropes they would string from their house to the barn so they wouldn't get lost going back and forth. One of our neighbors got lost just that way one day when we were visiting his house. When he was sure he was lost he just stood still and called until we heard him and then we hollered back to him so he could get his direction.  A school teacher and her 12 year old sister stayed at the school house one Friday night, as the storm was pretty bad. When Saturday came she evidently thought they could make it and they started out for a neighbors house a little over a mile away. They found them both froze to death after the storm.

    We helped a rancher named Walt Mowry and lived about three miles from our place. When he went to town, Bruce and I would take turns doing his chores. I had been over doing the chores one night in December, I had finished the chores about 4:00 and had started walking home. It was cloudy and hazy but I had not thought especially about a storm, but before I got a third of the distance home, it started snowing that fine snow and the wind started to blow. I was following a dim trail that we had between our places and before I had gone more than a few minutes it was storming so hard I lost all trace of that trail. I wasn't worried then, as I had been over the road so many times I was sure I could tell the lay of the ground the right way home. The country was slightly rolling and by the time I had gone a bit further, those small knolls looked like hills thru the mist and snow. I knew just how long it would take to get to the cabin, Bruce was there and I knew he
would have a light, but by that time you couldn't have seen a light four feet away. I realized I had been walking enough to have been home, but I could see nothing, I stood still and shouted. The wind by that time was blowing so hard that I knew the sound wouldn't carry very far and I realized I was lost.

    I knew the distance couldn't be far from the house, but which way it was and how far, I didn't know. I can confess that is a peculiar sensation. I remember thinking, well you're to old and have seen enough of these blizzards to get panicky. So I decided the thing to do was to start walking in a circle and each time around try and take a larger circle, and that if I walked long and far enough, I would undoubtedly find the house. I tried walking then I would stop and shout, but soon realized that I was just getting tired and out of breath doing that, and I was beginning to think that possibly in order to keep from freezing I would have to walk all night, but the next morning the storm could still be raging. I also knew that had been tried and that after hours of it, one was inclined to sit down and rest a little, and that was flowers. In fact as I look back, I know a person can do a lot of thinking in a couple hours.

    I believe I knew I was lost around 5:00, at 8:00 I walked up against our window, with a light in it. I am sure I was two feet from it when I saw it. Of course it was an oil lamp, and probably not to bright, but folks, that was the nicest looking light I have ever had the privilege of seeing. Bruce said that when it started storming he had just taken it for granted that I had stayed all night at the Mowry ranch.

    I sold the land in Dakota for $1600, $10 per acre. Due to the location of our land, it was no doubt worth considerably more, but I needed the money. Bruce and I moved to Roundup, Montana, it was a young town and business was good. Bruce and I built the Montana House, one of the first hotels in the town. Later we went to Melstone, a town that was a division point on the railroad and looked good for future business, and there we built another hotel. Bruce ran the place at Melstone and I ran the one at Roundup.

    Neither Bruce nor I was married, but I had met a girl from Kansas and we were engaged. I found there was still some homestead land not to far from Roundup and when my future wife came, she filed on 160 acres four miles from town. We went to Lewistown, Montana to be married in February 1909. We built a set of buildings on her homestead, lived on it a few years and a few years later sold 60 of those acres for $5681. During the time we were holding down that land, we were running the Montana House, I clerked in the store, one of the largest in town, and the Mrs. was driving back and forth
with a pair of twins, which were born before the three years was up that was necessary to prove up on her land to get title to it. We both worked very hard and did very well during those years. By the time we sold the ranch and the Montana House, business in town was doing fine, there were three banks, two newspapers, several coal mines had opened up near the city and everyone was looking for Roundup to become another Chicago.

    After selling the hotel, I started the City Feed Store, handling flour, food, seeds, hay, etc. I ran it for two years and had a chance to sell it for a profit. We then started the Roundup Fruit Store which ran for another two years before I sold it for a profit. Bruce Dutton was not in with me with these last two businesses as he had started a ranch up in another county.

    The Great Northern Railway had started a new line from Lewistown to Richey, Montana. They had already built a tunnel out of Lewistown at the cost of about a million dollars and were also building from the Richey end. We drove up into what was then Dawson County and picked out a place in a valley known as Big Dry Creek. We bought 800 acres right where the Great Northern was going thru. During the time we were on the ranch, The Diamond Bar Ell, as we called it, as that was our brand, we had about 50
horses and 50 head of cattle. 

    The Jack Dempsey - Tommy Gibbons fight was scheduled at Shelby, Montana and at the time I had a Reo Speed wagon, it was really a truck that had seats on the side so you could use them for passengers or hauling, and I thought there might be some hauling business in Shelby. The idea wasn't so bad because I did haul both freight and passengers. I hauled the Blackfeet Indians from their camps near the city around to different things, and really became pretty well acquainted with them. I recall they had a dance one night at one of the dance halls in town and I trucked down several loads of them down. As you probably know their dance is not like ours and is more of a jump around, pow wow proposition. Anyhow, they were having a big time when some of their women saw me in the crowd watching them, they came right out after me and I had to get into the ring and dance with them. As I was perfectly sober, it was pretty hard for me to dance Indian dances, in fact I never had danced much anyhow. Some of the fellows from Roundup that I knew, never did quit trying to kid me about that.

    When the day of the fight came, they didn't seem to know whether the fight would be held or not, Dempsey had been guaranteed a certain amount of money to fight and they weren't able raise that amount. Some of the trains that had been chartered in the east were cancelled and everything was pretty well mixed up, but they decided to hold the fight anyway. I was hauling passengers from the town out to the arena, which was circular built
and held about 1000 people. There was a big crowd there, but no where near enough to fill that building. The arena was surrounded by a 6' or 7' barb wire fence, inside there were mounted police riding back and forth to keep anyone from sneaking in. I was sitting outside in the truck when I noticed something unusual happening. There had been a crowd of several hundred people outside the barb wire fence, trying to dicker with ticket sellers to let them in at a reduced price. I have forgotten just what the cheapest seats were, but they ran up to $50 each, depending on where you sat. The crowd hadn't been able to get in as cheap as they would have liked and down the line, a fellow started cutting the wire with a pair of pliers. One of the mounted police shouted at him, and as soon as all the police were over on that side of the fence, others with pliers started cutting  the fence, right in front of me, and before you knew it the crowd was going up the gangway without paying anything. I thought I may as well go in too, so I went along and down to a $33 seat. It was just the beginning of the third round, but we saw practically all of it, and it was a good fight. The way that crowd went was never printed in the papers.

    Shortly after that I was appointed Deputy Assessor for Dawson County, I had a section of 10 country miles to cover to the North and South and 30 miles East and West. Every place in that area had to be seen and assessed. There were but a few roads and in the majority of instances I would have to go right across the country without a road at all. I started with a saddle horse, but soon found that it was often difficult to arrive at a ranch at
night that would have an extra bed. Practically every place would feed me but finding a bed became a problem. So then I drove a light buggy with a small team of horses and carried my own bed and assessing equipment. I never carried anything to eat, as I said I seldom had trouble in that respect. One night however, I was in a desolate part of my territory where the ranches were long distances apart. I arrived a short time before dark, and by the time I had completed my task, it was dark. The family was of foreign descent, and the man informed me that the reason he could never get ahead was that all of his eight children were girls. He said they weren't any good for farm work. As I had been working all day and he had advised me the next ranch was several miles away, and with dim light to follow, I inquired if it would be possible for me to get supper and breakfast, that I had my own bed which I could roll out under the stars. He said "I'm sorry mister, but we
haven't hardly anything to eat." That was bad. I told him I would pay him if he would take a saddle horse and show me the way to the next ranch. This he agreed to do. While he was getting the horse ready, one of the little girls came out and hollered, "Daddy, ma says to tell the man he can stay, she just found an egg." Well, as I said before, I'd been driving over rough country all day, and felt that one egg would be just a beginning for me, so I
succeeded in getting the man to show me the trail to the next ranch.

    In getting our assessment list of the property, it was in most instances necessary to get the ranchers and property owners to tell us what they owned, and to take their word to a large extent on telling the truth. In the majority of cases, when they found I was the assessor, their stock was not worth much, and they didn't have but a few. One instance I recall, the lady of the house insisted that it wouldn't be necessary for me to wait for the
husband, she knew all about everything they had. So I drew it up and she signed it. Horses and other animals were listed in different groups and the values depended on size, age and other conditions. I asked the lady about their horses and she said "We haven't only two, but they are nice ones." I asked how large the horses were and she said they were great big ones. I thought that possibly her idea of big horses and mine might differ, but I did class them among the good grades. She told me that I probably would meet her husband coming home from another ranch. I did meet him and after that I don't think I took another woman's word about the kind of horses they had. Their horses might have weighed 1000 pounds each, but I doubt it. Probably their outfit looked good to her, but if she hadn't kept a copy of my list, I would have dropped about half the price that she had placed on her team, wagon and harness.

    Most people were inclined to be like another case. The owner came out, shook my hand, invited me to dinner, gave me his listing and as I remember it, he said he had 3000 sheep, 8 horses, 2 sheep wagons, 2 other wagons and 10 head of cattle among other small items. My listings went in to the head office every week. Before I had finished my territory, I had a request from the State, there had been an affidavit forwarded from a section of my territory, where in reality the rancher had owned 9000 sheep, over 50
horses, 60 head of cattle and 14 wagons. There was a request for me to find out if that report was true and take all the time that was necessary to report to them. I did as they suggested and found that the report was correct.

    During the time we were on our ranch, the twins would ride three miles to school with the small team of horses that we had. One evening while riding two on a horse bareback, Lorance fell off, but threw his arms around the horses neck as he fell and due to that, fell immediately in front of the horse and was stepped on in the center of his stomach. I believe he was about seven at the time. We saw that he was quite badly hurt and I headed
for the doctor, about 15 miles from our ranch. 

    This was suppose to be an especially healthy part of the country and due to that fact we had this doctor that had come out here for health reasons, he was a good doctor. He did the doctoring for a territory larger than the State of New Jersey. He came over at once, by that time Lorance was running a rather severe fever. The doctor had us carry the couch that he was on out in the open air and said he would sit with him and if his fever started going higher, we must have a car ready to take him to the nearest hospital at Miles City, 100 miles southeast of us. The doctor sat with that boy's hand in his all night, until the next day when his fever started to go down, eventually he fully recovered. 

    The Mrs. and I drove to Billings to get help to put up the crop of hay and corn we had grown to winter our stock.  I believe we were gone about two or three days, but when we got back the crops were taken care of, by the elements. We had a hailstorm the day before we arrived and the fields were as free from crops as though they had been cleared with a broom. There was nothing left. We shipped cattle to the Chicago market and brought a car load of horses back to New York State.

    From then on things did start happening. The World War started. Offices that had been rented in our county by the Great Northern Railway were given up. Railroad work stopped at all points. Then the droughts came and there were no crops of any consequence for several years. We left some of our horses at the ranch and rented it to a sheep man and went into Roundup and into the Real Estate business. At about that time the banks started failing. Checks of considerable consequence that were given us from a bank in Ingomar, Montana, and that had been deposited in the bank at Sumatra, came back after some weeks advising us that due to the Ingomar Bank closing, the checks were no good.

    We had some money in a Roundup bank and some more coming from New York on some sales I had made when back there when taking the horses there, but that money came in to the Roundup bank just before that bank closed. We lost in three banks and when the banks stopped failing, 17 or 18 I believe, there was just one small bank left in a small town down the line that hadn't failed. Every other bank in the county was gone. The bank failures brought about a chaotic condition. People bought what they had to have to
eat, had very little to wear and practically every business was at a standstill. No matter what you tried to do, you lost. We did a fair business under the existing conditions, in real estate, but there wasn't much of real estate moving.

    We had a friend that had sold his ranch for $3800 some time before the banks closed. Two banks in town had closed and his money was in the third one, he went down to the bank to draw it out. The cashier told the bank  President that he had just presented his check for all his savings, it was all that he and his wife had worked for, for a number of years. The President called him into his office and told him that they were all right, and that if the depositors would just give them a chance, they wouldn't have to close. He
talked him into leaving his money, two days afterward, the bank closed it's doors.

    Two of those banks I believe eventually paid the depositors a very small percentage of what they had on deposit and the third bank paid nothing. Our friend nearly lost his mind over that loss. Eventually people forgot or tried to forget their losses, banks got started again.

    There came a time during those years when the homesteaders were coming in so fast that the west nearly lost that hospitality that had always been such a strong characteristic. There was a time when it became necessary to lock your houses, as some that came in from the east evidently never knew what true hospitality and friendship signified and violated every known courtesy shown them to the extent of stealing things they found in
unlocked homes. To some who enjoyed those privileges, it seems almost unbelievable.

    After a time, the railroad sent out crews to look over their surveys, but those surveys and stakes were never used. The railroad was never built and the town they had promised to build on our land, of course, never materialized. Our foundations of everything that looked so secure crumbled, it seemed to me just like a house of cards. Everything seemed so good, that eventualities that came to pass were almost unbelievable. I have asked
bankers and financiers at various times just where my figuring went wrong. It seems as though with results like that somewhere along the line that I must have been all wrong in my calculations. I have never found one yet that told me, after hearing just how everything worked out, where I had made any radical mistakes. It was just one of those things, that could happen and did happen.

    I have heard it said that after you live west for a number of years, that there is something that you can't explain that makes you want to go back. A great many people have seen adversities in that country. Droughts, bank failures, etc. but never-the-less, we all have that something, that seems to attract us to that country.

He was born March 14, 1882 Granby, New York - Died August 6, 1956 Massena, New York
Contributed by Julie Robst, a descendant.


 

Homesteading in Montana in 1914 
written by 
Rachel Matteson Cates 



Dated, January 8, 1969.

    I arrived in Roundup, Montana on March 13, 1914 to take a homestead and start a new life. My sister Delia and husband Byron Cates lived there and besides their five year old twins, there was Roy and Walter Cates and a hired man named Ed. 

   Just before my arrival, Roy and Walter left for Dawson County, 150 miles to the northeast, with a wagon load of supplies and food. In May, after selling their Roundup property, the rest of us set out for the same place. Delia, the twins and I in a buggy, while the men had another wagon of supplies. We camped at night and we had a tent to sleep in. I was rather disheartened on the way as there was so much sage brush and almost no
houses. But when we arrived at our destination, we found it was mostly nice grass land and less sage brush. Also a few large cotton woods on the Big Dry Creek where our homesteads were.

    That May I met Byron's brothers and we all went to work to get things lined up for us to live. Where Byron and Delia were to live there was an old sheep herders dug out that we made use of. Using a camp stove, Delia and I cooked our meals and did all our work for eight people.

    Using a breaking plow, the men started breaking the good sod into strips which was cut into even lengths, and choosing a nice grassy place near the dug out, we started to build their sod house. The sod was laid as bricks are laid, but the walls were 16" to 18" thick so the windows had nice deep sills. The men hauled the sod and placed it evenly and Delia and I would sit on them to smooth them down with dull knives for the next layer. We really enjoyed working together, and after all that work we slept good at night. 

    When the house was finished the sod walls had a board roof with sod (I think) placed over the tar paper which covered the boards. Two regular doors and five nice big windows. Three good size rooms and the living room, the twins and I slept on a couch there, the single men slept in the dug out. The living room walls were papers with silver and white striped wall paper and the floor was painted green. A well was dug near the back door and we pulled up the good drinking water in an old fashioned bucket.

    When their house was finished, my cabin was built, about 1/2 mile away. I had money for a wooden, shingled cabin, one room and the men hauled the lumber from Sumatra for it and they built it for me. We were 45 miles from the nearest railroad, but Edwards was only 4 miles from us and had a general store and a post office. Later it had a hotel, printing office and school house. In later years these all burned down and there was no Edwards, Montana after that.

    My cabin was all frame and had just the necessary things for living but I didn't stay there at night until I was married, but it looked nice. I had brought pillows and bedding from Kansas with me and the cover for my sanitary couch was a blue quilt that my mother and I had pieced together and quilted. Mother had a fairly large blue and light red rug for me and I had blue drapes for the windows. I also had a book shelf and a picture or two.

    My land, and Walter's 320 acres, was squatter's land so all we could do was stake it out, build, and live there, filing on the land as soon as it was open for filing. Before we filed, Walter and I decided to be married, and since my land had water on it all year round and a few cottonwood trees, we decided to live on my land. He sold a few of the improvements he had made on his land and I not only filed but proved up on mine after our marriage. This left him his right to file on one later should he so desire. But it cost
more money and labor to prove up on one place than we had anticipated so he never used his right.

    My Kansas teacher's certificate wasn't recognized in Montana so I rode horseback 13 miles to Sand Springs to take examinations and after receiving my certificate, I taught a 3 months term of school in a homesteaders cabin. I had pupils that were new to each other as well as new to me and I walked 2 miles to school each day for $75 a month. I paid board at Delia's during that time and Walter worked for Byron. There were very few social activities and neighbors were far away, but some how we didn't mind and Delia and I were always busy.

    I made my blue crepe wedding dress that first winter and Walter and I drove the 45 miles to the railroad then took the train to Mile City where we were married in the Methodist Parsonage March 4, 1915. We stayed in Miles City a week then returned with our grub stake and supplies.

    On our return, we ate dinner at Byron and Delia's then went directly to our first home, a 12' x 14' shack on a barren Montana homestead, but we found a lot of enjoyment there and I was free to go with Walter to the cedar for fence posts and to the coal mine a few miles from us for coal for winter fuel. This cost us nothing but the work and I carried a 22 rifle to shoot rabbits with. We bought a cow and a team of horses from Byron. We dug a
17' well in a coulee east of the house, Walter dug the well and I hauled up the dirt and Walter hauled water to the house in a barrel.

    In the fall Walter clerked in a store in Roundup so we were away awhile, but the neighbors wanted me to teach another 3 month term of school so we went back to the homestead. It was a cold winter and I was pregnant and I wonder how we got by. Soon after my school was out Walter had a chance to earn $100 for a month's work during lambing season, so we had money for a doctor bill and a grub stake. Jack was born June 11, 1916.

    Byron and Delia went back to New York State soon after Jack was born and were gone for some time so we were alone again. When Jack was 6 weeks old he had his first horse back ride, I got on my horse then Walter handed me the baby, and we proceeded slowly to a neighbors house 2 miles away. They invited us to eat with them, to me it was a delicious meal as the woman had dug into her special supplies and opened a can of red salmon and a can of peaches. Wonderful, as we were used to dried prunes, peaches, apples, loganberries and mutton.

    Our first Christmas was shared with Roy Cates and a bachelor neighbor who enjoyed a home cooked meal. Since Byron and Delia's soddy was empty and had much more room, we moved into it and lived there for 18 months. We had a good buggy and went to Edwards at least once a week and brought home a pile of mail and newspapers, as even then we took a daily paper and we spent our evenings reading.

    Jack was 2 years old when I taught a 3 month term of school in the new school house in Edwards, riding a saddle pony the 4 miles each way every day. I paid a neighbor girl to stay with Jack during the day and do the housework. This time the job was almost forced on me as the war was going on and there were no other teachers at all out there, so I felt like a slacker by not teaching.

    Then I was pregnant for Clayton, that spring Byron and Delia returned with four children now and our doctor had gone so they convinced me I couldn't have the baby out there with no doctor so in May we left the homestead and spent some time in Kansas with my people. Clayton was born that summer, July 13, 1919 at my sisters home in Phillipsburg, Kansas.

    That was the end of our homestead life, although we never sold our land. Most years we leased the land for a small amount for grazing and I think a couple of times for oil, but we never lived out there after 1919. On April 4, 1924 we were presented with my wonderful daughter Jean. A few days after my first heart attack, I deeded the place to my children Jack and Jean and about 5 years ago they sold it and they gave me one third of the proceeds. Roy died of pneumonia when about 30 years old, leaving a wife and four
children. Water died in November 1953 of tuberculosis and Byron died of a sudden heart attack in 1956. Our cabin was finally destroyed by wind, but the old soddy house stood for many years.

She was born February 3, 1888 Phillips Co., Kansas  -  Died March 1, 1973 Pensacola, Florida
Contributed by Julie Robst, a descendant.


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