"My Homestead Right[[1]] lasts for five years, and until they have expired I cannot get a title from the Government for my land, so that I am not likely to throw up my work and right without a good cause....
[1]. See Appendix.
"P.S.—A trip out here would do you good, and you could see for yourself how things stand."
"June 26, 1885.
"... You ask me whether my ranche does not produce anything—have I no cattle to sell, &c. If you refer to my letters, you will see that I mentioned having bought an old cow cheap (for £4), which gave us milk last winter, but as she was a little too decrepit to raise a calf, I traded her off this spring for a little mare, which, again, I sold for 200 cedar posts, worth twenty cents apiece, or forty dollars. Thus my old cow, which I gave £4 for, will, when the posts are delivered and sold, bring me in £8. (As the spring has been unusually wet, the man has not come up to time with the posts, but I shall have them shortly.) My garden ought to bring me in £20. I have the finest set of cabbages, peas, and potatoes in the valley, my team, and this spring I have 130 chickens, 100 of which we raised this spring, and more are hatching out now. Twenty-five acres broken ready for a crop of wheat that is ready to sow by September, and one mile and a half of fence, or 150 acres, enclosed. In addition to this, I have just finished putting up a little milk house on the creek, and am terribly proud of it; it looks like a Swiss châlet, gabled ends, &c. I am all the more proud of it, as I have hewed the logs and put it up at odd times of an evening. By next autumn, when I hope to have everything complete, I shall have, if not the prettiest, at least one of the nicest little ranches in Montana, magnificent building spot, icy cold water all the year round, and unrivalled panoramic view, also perfectly healthy. You will understand from this that what with having bought my team, tools, &c., it does not leave much for stock. One cow costs fifty dollars, and hard to get at that. A yearling calf costs from £3 to £5, and if possible I must try and get some in the fall, as I have put about seven acres into oats for hay, besides what hay I can cut (this having been a splendid season for grass). Oats would hardly pay to thresh on so small an acreage, though the yield ought to be between fifty and seventy bushels to the acre. Crops are magnificent. On lots of ranches wheat will go as high as fifty bushels to the acre this year (seventy-five have been raised). As my team, though strong, are not very heavy, I have only averaged three-quarters of an acre breaking sod a day. Three horses are generally used.
"With five cows I could keep twenty hogs, and what with my crop next year, garden, and work at odd times, should be considered rich here, and could put by money.
"You will perhaps remember my telling you that there was a saw-mill up the cañon above my ranche some three miles. Well, the 'boss' came down three weeks ago, and hired me to work for him at thirty dollars a month until threshing time, or the 1st of September. This suited me well, as on Sundays and after work, when not too tired, I could run down home and see that things were all right. B. is still staying with me, and is a great help.... I started to work two days after, and stayed three weeks, whereas I had hoped to get a job till September. He shut down the mill suddenly, and thus threw me out of work. We have given him a piece of our mind, but as he was young, and didn't know his own mind, we didn't quarrel about it. This job, of course, suited me well, as it was handy to home; but the day after to-morrow I am going after a three months' job on a sheep drive some three hundred miles, at forty dollars a month. The sheep are twenty miles from here, and have to be driven down beyond Custer, which would bring me back home by threshing time.
"I am glad to say that wherever I have worked or am known at all I can always get a job, as I am considered to be a 'rustler,' or night-hawk, as I work early up to dark. The mill-owner is going to move his mill down to mouth of the cañon, I hear; so this will to some extent improve the value of my property."
In July, 1885, he wrote to a friend:—
"I have only just received your letter. It has been a long time on the road, as I am now twenty miles away from home, working out at 'dipping sheep,' dirty and terribly hard work. As to your cousin coming out, I can only say that I certainly can do well, and I should say that he could also if he will be content to rough it. I have done nothing but rough it since I have been out, and find it has done me no harm, but much good. I am getting as strong as a horse.