WE COME WEST

IN 1884, my parents came to Washington Territory, having in tow three small frisky youngsters, of which I was the youngest. My father brother, Uncle Rev, also came.

We had been told there were Indians in Washington, so when I learned that we were in Washington, I exclaimed, don't see any Indians!

We were to be met in The Dalles by my uncle, William Lee – Doc, he was called. But by some misunderstanding, he was not there to meet us, so we started over the Columbia Mountains with my uncle friend, Jim Pitman.

It required all day to drive that fifteen or twenty miles.

When we reached the Pitman home, Mr. Pitman told his daughter, cook these folks some potatoes and salmon. And Josie did.

My uncle home was a one room shack on a prairie home where he, his wife and tiny son, Clem, lived. As there was only one bed, the extras slept on pallets on the floor.

Uncle Doc asked us children if we wanted to go with him to take his horse to the barn. Of course, we were eager to see every We trailed Uncle Doc, who led the horse, through bunch grass up to ones knees. He took old Dobbin out, and surrounded by staring eyed children, tied a long rope to its foot, drove a stake into the ground and tied the rope to the stake. This was called out the horse. And so the horse was into the barn, to quote Uncle Doc.

My father bought out a man claim to a homestead, which had a one roomed house, with an attic, and we moved in. There was grass land and some timber on the place. Mother divided the attic into bedrooms by hanging up yards of new freshly woven rag carpet brought from Indiana and we children and our uncle had bedrooms.

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