After a night of horror, at three in the morning, they had found Dorn at the Six Shooter camp comfortably sleeping with the Mexican herder! When the storm began he made no attempt to come back to the ranch, not stopping to think that his non-appearance would cause any anxiety, besides endangering the lives of two men.
“I was so hot when I seen Dorn nice and warm all cuddled up there with that Dago I jest drug him out by the collar and shook him. Anybody that’ud sleep with a Mexican had orter freeze to death. Gosh! Here was Mr. Brook and me amblin’ over this whole blamed country, flounderin’ through snow drifts as high as this house, gettin’ our horses down and most freezin’ to death, blintin’ a no account thing like that.” Bill was himself again.
Their knowledge of the country and presence of mind had saved them, for once when they found that it had grown warmer and apparently the wind had ceased, they realized that the horses had turned with the wind so that it was at their backs, they forced the poor things into the face of the bitter gale again and went on. They passed the camp without seeing it and had gone beyond when the wind brought them the smell of the sheep, they turned back and after searching found the cabin. It was a narrow escape for they were too exhausted to have gone farther.
A few days later we learned that old John, who had been our mail carrier, had perished in the storm. He had gone out to try to find his cattle and did not return. His wife and little son were alone and when they were able to get out and look for him, they found him just outside the garden fence lying frozen and half eaten by the coyotes.
I thought much during the following days and finally I came to a conclusion.
“Owen, if you want to sell out I’m willing—it will have to come some day, I realize that, and besides—there is too much at stake. I don’t believe I can ever live through another blizzard.”
In three months all the stock on the ranch was sold, a caretaker was placed in charge of the home ranch, which we retained, and we moved to Denver. But instead of selling out to the syndicate, Owen decided to put our lands on the market himself and they were listed for sale.
It was the end of the old life; we had made way for the settlers.