Back Window Adventures

One of the projects I assigned my dad several years ago was to write the history of all the buildings past and present at the Ward and Parker property in the Crazies. These written memories were the first part of that series. By my Daddy.

There are many places in this world which seem new to us, but someone has been there first. So it was even back up the creek on the Sweet Grass. I know of no one finding rings of rocks that had outlined teepee locations, but Indians had been there. There was a grave sized mound of dirt on the lower end of the rocky flat about 3/4^th of a mile down the valley from where we lived. Mother thought it was an Indian grave. Nobody checked it out.

 When I was ten or eleven years old I found a large buffalo skull and a brown-flint spear head that had fallen into the crevasse of an outcropping cliff beside the creek that ran out of the year round spring that furnished water for the house and sawmill that my father and his partner would build. Part of the flume they had built to carry water to the sawmill ran across the top of the outcropping cliff. If the skull and spearhead had not fallen into the cleft someone would have found it 10-12 years before I did. An Indian hunter was here and left his mark.

 I carried the skull home and Barney Brannin used it for one of the porch decorations for the Brannin Lodge. I played around with the spearhead, throwing it and maybe pounding it with a rock. It ended up becoming lost. I think I know within fifty feet of where it is. In my mind I can see an Indian brave leaving his skull and spearhead as an offering to the Master of the Hunt. As late as the 1940’s there were still signs of early pioneers. Old logging trails wandered through the fire-killed trees near the Horseshoe Prairie. One could see the stumps of trees they had cut for the Northern Pacific Railroad. I saw a man’s name and a date carved in the base of a burned-out stump. I think the date was in the 1800’s. Someone said that ties cut for the railroad were floated down the creek in high water. Maybe so, Ed Brannin had floated saw logs down the Sweet Grass to his sawmill near Basin Creek. 

C. M. Rein had a sawmill at the foot of the steep mountain west of Bruin Creek where Section 17 corners sections 18, 7, and 8. This may have been set up before 1900. We pastured cows and calves in this back corner of Section 17. I don’t think Barbara and Ralph have ever used it for a pasture. Sometimes the younger generation is wiser than their elders.

One place we knew as the “Logging Camp” was across the valley from Gommie’s Lake at base of Bruin’s Hump. Ed Brannin or C. M. Rein used this twenty or thirty years before Daddy and Ernest did in the 1930’s when they were sawing out the standing of fire-killed timber for house logs. The material from living trees would warp, and the bark on the green logs had to be peeled off. The dead timber made tough, non-shrinking timber that already had the bark removed from it. The “bunk house” cabin that nephew George uses was built from logs sawed from fire killed trees. Others went to John Moss and Carl Bussey houses on the west side of Big Timber.^[1]

For years a rotten log and the remains of a cellar pit could be seen on each side of the road near the line fence west of Gommie’s Lake. The cellar pit and rotting base log was still visible in the 1930’s. Likely the place was used by the tie cutters of the 1800’s. This is where Bud Ward and Ernest Parker set up a cookstove and slept on the ground. 

Ward and Parker’s had purchased a sawmill from Ed Brannin. They set it up at the far end of the open land up the valley from Gommie’s Lake.^[2] This was in 1916. Setting up the mill was their first construction project. They dug a watering pit for the steam engine in the swampy ground beside the field and laid down a track for the sawmill carriage to run on. In this picture the sawmill would have been located just right of midpoint of the far edge of the field. The stump in the foreground seems to be pointing at it. The place for the cook stove would be at the tree line just off the picture. 

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^[1]My Freshman year of high school Barbara, Kitty and I boarded with a Mrs. Smith in the Moss house. Mrs. Moss’s green trimmed Kalamazoo kitchen range helped pay for the Moss house. 

^[2] Nearby a rotted log showed where a cabin once stood. Nearby was a pit and mound of dirt where a root cellar had been built.  Likely these were remains of a camp used in the late 1800’s by workers cutting ties for the Northern Pacific Railroad. 

Raindrops fell and dripped from the edge of the tent that covered the gravesite. Family and friends huddled together under umbrellas, the rain mingling with tears that slid from soulful eyes. Words of comfort were spoken, and the sweet fragrances of prayers rose to the throne of heaven. 

Seven rifles split the silence with the discharge of three volleys of shots that rang out to honor the Veteran whose body laid in the casket on the funeral bier. The melancholy sound of a bugle call resounded as a man in uniform played taps. Chills ran down my spine while the mournful tones resonated then fell in the heavy Southern air.  

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With upmost respect and precision, two old soldiers folded the flag that draped the casket. One of them turned on his heels, stepped forward and presented the flag to the family. 

The empty shell of a man was lowered in the ground. In that solemn moment amid many emotions and thoughts, one came to the forefront, “He is not there.” He joined the ranks of others gone before him and reunited with loved ones. He answered the bugle call.

With a final salute, the honor guard spun and marched off the grounds as family and friends joined together to celebrate the life of the old soldier.

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Six redheaded preacher’s kids peered from the balcony of the Lutheran Church in Livingston. Their eyes were fixed on the bride and groom as the preacher said, “You may kiss the bride,” and then the newlyweds walked back down the aisle and down the steps of the church.

Guests had already gathered for a celebration at the Knapp home on Tin Can Hill. After a meal was shared, and congratulations and well wishes were given, the couple returned to Livingston. There were no rooms available at any of the motels and hotels. 

On a side street, a brightly lettered sign at the bottom of a flight of stairs read, “Rooms.” They enter through the door and were met by a matronly lady. She said,“There is one room left,” to which the groom said, “We’ll take it.” The landlady led them down the narrow hallway to the room, and opened the door. Someone had beat them to the room and was sleeping in the single bed, and it wasn’t Goldilocks. It was a drunk who had found the last bed in town before the paying guests arrived. The lady ran him out, changed the sheets, and left the honeymooners in peace. They locked the door just in case the drunk man returned.

When morning broke, the young couple was off to Yellowstone National Park for their honeymoon. Alas, once again there were no rooms to be found. They made their bed on the ground that night. 

It’s a good thing the uncles weren’t around, or they might have made it a family affair. It was reminiscent of the honeymoon of Uncle Ed and his bride when the family joined the after-wedding-party. Had Uncle Ed been there, he might have put fish heads under their blankets in hopes of enticing a bear just like he did to Jess and Julia forty-one years earlier.

After their short honeymoon, the bride and groom made their way to their first home together – a little log cabin twelve feet square. The tiny honeymoon house was furnished with a bed, flat-topped stove, table, two chairs, a cupboard made of wooden apple boxes, chest of drawers, and a washstand.

Nowadays many couples put more emphasis on a fairy tale wedding with little thought to the marriage that follows. Though the wedding of the newlyweds in this story was not an elaborate one, their marriage lasted until they were parted at death. They put each other first and made a life and family together. The sight of the six redheaded kids in the balcony that July day may have been a premonition of things to come for the couple did indeed have six kids, but they weren’t redheaded.

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In the animal world, males often perform rituals or do something flashy to attract females. It’s not much different in the human world. Apparently even the strangest of rituals, such as drinking seven glasses of water, has the power to turn a girl’s head. At least it worked for Buck because after his display she even agreed to a first date. 

By their fourth date, Buck got the nerve to give a kiss to the girl from the prairie. She didn’t knock his teeth out, so he moved closer, put his arm around her, and gave her another kiss.

Buck had another date to keep – with Uncle Sam. The Army made other living arrangements for him. After several months, he was eligible for a furlough. He headed home and reunited with his prairie girl.  They spent some time in the mountains with Buck’s family. 

One of the highlights was the dance at Basin Creek School. When Buck and his date drove down to the school, a chaperone was on board, a wee little chaperone, Buck’s little sister. They all had a great time at the dance but soon the escort became sleepy. Buck grabbed her up and took her to the car. While she slept in the back seat, Buck stole a kiss and proposed to the prairie girl. She said yes! (I wonder if the chaperone was fired)

Buck returned to fulfill his military duty. The next few months their courtship was done by mail. One letter included a diamond ring. 

Buck was discharged in March of 1946. He soon found his way to the Sherod’s where his prairie girl was staying. The two were reunited, but no wedding date had been set. That was about to change. 

Buck tells this story, “One day, about the first of July, we were driving down a rutted lane.  We were sitting close to each other.  I handled the gas petal, and Jean handled the steering wheel. We waved at my Uncle Sid and Byron Grossfield, who were working in a hay field. We passed the bend in the road and the car slid into a rut, missed a bridge, flew off the road and ended up in the dike which carried water around the Gunderson Hill.  Barbara and her date hooked a chain on us to pull us out of the water. Then we had plenty of help. For fifteen miles, there had been no traffic on the road.  However, immediately, Byron and Uncle Sid came to supervise our rescue, and Uncle Barney and a van load of guests drove up the other way.  Uncle Sid remarked that, if it took two people to drive the car, maybe they ought to get married!”

The wedding date was set for the last Friday in July.

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Buck suffered from a sickness – lovesickness – and it was all because of a girl from the prairie. The first time he saw her, she was in a line of eighth grade graduates. She was the top of her class and Valedictorian of the rural schools. He was intrigued. She might be smart, but could she saddle a horse or milk a cow? 

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He expected to see the prairie girl that fall when he started his senior year at Sweet Grass High School. She wasn’t there. Instead, she and her sister went to school in Rappleje. The following year, the sisters started Sweet Grass High. Change was on the horizon and Cupid’s arrow was ready to fly. 

Buck’s sister Barbara, who boarded in town, also attended high school. One weekend when she went home to the mountains forty miles away, she reported that the two Knapp girls (the girls from the prairie), were batching in the other half of the house where she stayed. Buck felt butterflies in his belly. Could it be? The girl from the prairie?

It wasn’t long before Sister Barbara brought the girls to the mountains for the weekend. The Valedictorian tugged at Buck’s heart, but could he win hers? She was a spunky gal with spark and wasn’t afraid to say what was on her mind or to stand up for what she believed. He described her as “something like a spirited bronco.” Not only could she milk a whole string of cows and saddle a horse, but she rode bareback and could fly like the wind.

On the way to an elk hunting trip with a couple of the uncles, Buck stopped in town to visit Sister Barbara – and of course, to get a glimpse of the girl from the prairie. In the house was an old piano. The prairie girl sat at the piano and her fingers flew over the keys. Buck was so impressed, he wanted to do something to get her attention. He showed his great skill of drinking seven glasses of water without stopping. It was then that he discovered her musical skills were not quite what they seemed for her fingers tickled the ivories of a player piano, and she wasn’t the player. It was a long night.

And so began the courtship of the girl from the prairie.

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