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Letters of a Woman Homesteader by Elinore Pruitt Stewart
page 9 of 156 (05%)

After we quitted the caƱon I saw the most beautiful sight. It seemed as
if we were driving through a golden haze. The violet shadows were
creeping up between the hills, while away back of us the snow-capped
peaks were catching the sun's last rays. On every side of us stretched
the poor, hopeless desert, the sage, grim and determined to live in
spite of starvation, and the great, bare, desolate buttes. The
beautiful colors turned to amber and rose, and then to the general
tone, dull gray. Then we stopped to camp, and such a scurrying around
to gather brush for the fire and to get supper! Everything tasted so
good! Jerrine ate like a man. Then we raised the wagon tongue and
spread the wagon sheet over it and made a bedroom for us women. We made
our beds on the warm, soft sand and went to bed.

It was too beautiful a night to sleep, so I put my head out to look and
to think. I saw the moon come up and hang for a while over the mountain
as if it were discouraged with the prospect, and the big white stars
flirted shamelessly with the hills. I saw a coyote come trotting along
and I felt sorry for him, having to hunt food in so barren a place, but
when presently I heard the whirr of wings I felt sorry for the sage
chickens he had disturbed. At length a cloud came up and I went to
sleep, and next morning was covered several inches with snow. It didn't
hurt us a bit, but while I was struggling with stubborn corsets and
shoes I communed with myself, after the manner of prodigals, and said:
"How much better that I were down in Denver, even at Mrs. Coney's,
digging with a skewer into the corners seeking dirt which _might_ be
there, yea, even eating codfish, than that I should perish on this
desert--of imagination." So I turned the current of my imagination and
fancied that I was at home before the fireplace, and that the backlog
was about to roll down. My fancy was in such good working trim that
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