In the spring of 1879, Flora Gardner traveled from Kansas to Bozeman with her family, via steamboat and wagon. Once settled in her new home, Flora sent a letter to friends in Kansas describing the trip’s adventures. This is the third of a four-part article sharing Flora’s letter chronicling the family’s two-week-long wagon adventure from Fort Benton to Bozeman. Last month’s article ended with the Gardner family traveling south between Fort Shaw and Helena. Finally reaching the top of a rise, Flora and her daughter Florence sat down to rest and enjoy a view of the valley below. An edited and annotated continuation of Flora’s letter follows.

The wagons soon came up and we started down. It began to rain so hard we were obliged to get into the wagons…At six o’clock, we halted on the banks of the Dearborn. The water fairly boils, it rushes along so fast and is as clear as crystal. The little girls soon had their aprons gathered full of shining pebbles. There is a stage station here and a toll bridge over the stream. They charged us twenty-five cents a wagon. It was rather damp camping that night, but Ed soon made a good big fire in front of the tent, and it was not long until we were quite comfortable. I took several good looks at the wet ground before I could make up my mind to put the beds down, but there was no other way so down they went.

Monday morning the roads were very muddy but we concluded to start and go as far as we could. We only traveled four miles until we had to stop and rest the horses for fear they would give out. We stayed there about three hours and fished some in a little creek nearby, but did not catch anything. We started again, went five miles to Moore’s ranch and camped. We had not more than put the tent up, when it began to pour down rain. As we were on the high prairie and no timber near, we had the full benefit of both wind and water.

Ed could not get a fire started so Florence went to the house and cooked on Mrs. Moore’s stove. The lady was very kind, said she had one spare bed and that mother had better go in the house to sleep. After supper Mother, Florence, and Mattie went to the house, the rest of us fixed our beds down on the wet grass and it was not long until we were all lulled to sleep by the pattering of the rain on the tent cloth. Next morning we found our beds soaking wet under us. The ditch had filled up and run over, so the water ran under us but none of us felt any the worse. When I was folding our beds, I found three mice and found too that they had eaten an immense hole in my waterproof cloak.

I forgot to say that Mr. Gardner had been putting the horses in the stable the past three nights. He said he would rather pay two dollars every night than to have me punch him in the ribs every half hour in the night and say, “Ed, Ed, there is something the matter with the horses.” He thought it was worse than when I used to get him out of bed frosty nights to see if the polecats or owls were after the chickens.

Tuesday morning I cooked breakfast before the family was up. We were not long in getting things packed. The roads were terribly muddy so we moved slowly; it was hill up and hill down all the time. It looked strange to me not to see any fields in cultivation. They have gardens and pastures fenced but that is all; ranchmen depend entirely upon their herds. I think they lead an easy life.

We did not stop for dinner but traveled until three o’clock. We were then at the mouth of Prickly Pear Canyon, where we camped for the night. Wolf Creek empties into Prickly Pear here, both are beautiful streams and plenty of trout in them. There is a stage station, a good double log house, and quite a comfortable barn and outbuildings. It is owned by an old bachelor. I told Florence she had better look her best, she might get that lovely home in the mountains. I knew she would like the name anyway (it was Kizzlepaw). I don’t think he was over sixty years old either.

We pitched our tent on a beautiful grassy spot near the creek, and all hands were in a great hurry to commence fishing. Ed cleaned and I cooked them. Mr. Kizzlepaw told Ed that a bear came over the mountain that morning and walked across his garden just in front of the house. We all wanted to sleep in the middle [of the tent] again that night.

The “Mr. Kizzlepaw” noted in Flora’s letter was likely William Kisselpaugh, a native of Nova Scotia. He is listed as single on both the 1870 and 1880 censuses, first as a teamster in Helena, and then as a farmer at “Little Prickly Pear and Tributaries” in Lewis and Clark County. Kisselpaugh died at his property in July 1899, at about age 67. A land dispute involving his homestead was chronicled in the Helena papers in the 1890s and was not resolved until several years after his death, when it was proved Kisselpaugh had occupied the land continuously since 1876.

Wednesday was a beautiful day. The sun never shone brighter, or vegetation looked fresher. We had all so much wished for a pleasant day to go through the canyon and we had it. I only wish I could give you a faint idea of how it looks. It is twelve miles long and it will take more brains than I possess to describe it. The scenery is grand. The Prickly Pear stream is about half as large as the Nodaway River [a tributary of the Missouri River in Iowa and Missouri]. The water is not deep, but it rushes along at a fearful rate and roars like water running over a mill dam. The mountains tower up for hundreds of feet on each side. The stream winds around through the mountains—often we could not see two lengths of the wagon ahead or back of us. The road is made right on the mountain side, and it has taken a great deal of labor to put it there. In many places the road is only wide enough for one wagon to pass.

Someone had to keep a mile or so ahead to warn wagons to stop where we could pass them. We were told that sometimes wagons met where it would take a half day to back out. The road is on one side of the creek and then on the other, crossing and re-crossing many times on good strong bridges. In other places, the road winds far up the mountain side so high that it made our heads dizzy to look and the thought of going over made me shudder. The children and I walked in all such places. Mother kept her seat in the wagon. I guess she thought there was no choice between being dashed to pieces or walked to death.

Ed went ahead and warned several long trains to stop where they could and let us pass. All the freighters have from three to five wagons coupled together and from six to eight spans of mules to draw them. There is an immense amount of freighting done in this country. We passed some long trains hauling lumber. At noon we camped on a spring creek where it empties into the Prickly Pear. There is a level grass spot fenced in by those immense mountains and the scenery here was grand beyond description. I wished all my friends were there to enjoy it with us. Ed sent Fin and Charley to lead the horses up on the side of the mountain to eat grass. They stayed so long we were uneasy about them but after a while they came creeping down and said they started up to heaven and had gone three miles straight up. The mountains are in all shapes that you could imagine; some covered with pines clear to the top, others with only a few here and there, others were all rock and looked as if they had been thrown up by some terrible earthquake. Everything must end and so did that delightful day with all its magnificent scenery.

About five o’clock it began to cloud up, and by the time we reached Johns’ ranch it began to rain. We did not put the tent up as the wind was blowing very hard. Mr. Johns gave us permission to sleep on the floor and the boys slept in the wagons. Next morning it was drizzling and cold. We were then only seventeen miles from Helena. The roads were mostly level but very muddy. It rained off and on all day, so we did not stop. At about three o’clock, we came in sight of Helena. It looked as if we were getting into the land of civilization again.

The valley around Helena is well improved and thickly settled. Helena is built between two mountains and the way they have crammed it in you would think land was scarce. It looks as if the ground had all been dug over and washed out, leaving nothing but loose rocks in sight. They are mining there now right in some of the streets. They say after they have taken out all the gold, they level the ground and build on it.   

To be continued…