Grandmother, who we always call Granny, maiden name was Matilda Mahaelia Scribner.
Grandfather was born in Shirlee, Mass, and Grandmother lived in Robinson, Maine. How they met, I have no knowledge. But Grandfather helped organize the Baptist Church in Augusta, Maine. From there he left to go north, to Topfield. I have never been able to find where they were married, but Grandfather had two children by a former marriage, George and a daughter, whose name I can't
recall. To the second marriage were born ten children. Grandfather was very philosophical and gave away almost all of his worldly goods to the needy, and to feed the returning soldiers after the war was over. So after his death, in about 1875, or there abouts, the family that wished, came west. My father, George Warren Bailey settled first at Virginia Dale, Colo. and had horses.
He later came to Wyoming and took up land on the Laramie River. It was here he lost his life, by a gun shot wound inflicted by a hired killer, a man by the name of Carr. My mother was then 3 months pregnant. I, being the child, never knew a father and never knew much about the tragedy as my mother would never talk about it. Nor would anyone else. The Farrars and the Baileys, in the spring of 1884 took up land on Hat Creek, a tributary of Cow Creek, which ran into the North Platte River. My uncles Otis and Price were not ranchers so after a few years on the ranch, they all moved to Saratoga, Wyo. where they built a very nice home for us. But it was too small for the family, which consisted of the three former said uncles, the grandmother, my mother and us. The kids all loved the ranch, were loath to leave it. We left on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, Jan. 18, 1891, just before I was seven years old. What a thrill I had as we drove into Saratoga as I had never been in a town before so you
probably know the surprise I had. Those who left the ranch that Sunday afternoon were my grandmother, my uncles, my sister Mary, and me. I think my brother Frank, stayed behind with cousin Eddie Bailey to ride with a load of furniture, that was being brought. The only things I remember now was great high kitchen cupboard, and a bureau which had been brought from home. I remember so well, the hotel we stayed at for the first night. It was The Cantwell at Hot Springs, which seemed to me, a castle. I stood at the window most of the evening looking out. We were moved into a five-room house, until our home could be finished. I remember so well a woman who also had a room there, smoked a pipe of horrid smelling tobacco, a Mrs. Reynolds. Years later, her son, took a great fancy to me as a little girl. And I was fond of him. Maybe he was a father image. The first school I attended was three miles from our ranch home, before we moved to Saratoga. Sometimes we walked and sometimes the neighbors' hired man picked us up as he carried their children to school. I thought he was an old man, but now I think he was only 18 or 19 years old. I was the only child in the first reader, as we spoke of it, at that time. I would go to the teacher's desk, Mrs. Krecher and read and that is all I can remember doing. When I could sit on a double seat with Cathy Campbell, a girl of about 14 years, I was in seventh heaven. She was very plain, but my cousin Eddy thought she was just right. Sometimes the boys at noon would catch fish. I think they were suckers as they were full of bones. They would cook them over a bon-fire. I asked one day how they ate them, and brother Frank, one of the boys, spoke up and said, "Oh, we just eat them, bones and all."
How everyone loved him. He was always the life of the party.
Sometimes we had to walk home from school, all of the three miles. I would get very tired but I can't ever remember of the other kids ever carrying me.
One time I can remember my cousin Glen taking me to visit some girls and it was late as we started home. We came upon some friends who were camping. I remember the camp fire. And I sat on a wagon seat that had been taken out of the wagon to sit around the fire. It was late, but soon the folks at home were worried, and Uncle Chris came to meet us and carried me home. We children had to entertain ourselves. The older ones, Mary and Eddie would be reindeers. Frankie was the driver and I would sit in the box, with blankets wrapped around me and ride miles and miles all over the meadows having such fun. We had a hill called the monument just above a very swampy place where there was a stream of lovely water. In the winter, it was all frozen and we would skate down the hill and right across the swampy place. I thought it was a long ride but now as I remember it was very short. One time I remember that Frankie and I were playing bandits out on this boggy place, and he dared me to jump into a deep mud hole, which of course I did. I nearly went clear under, but when he saw I was about to go out of sight, he pulled me out. I was mud from head to foot. We went to the house and mother cleaned me up, and put a dress on me that had blue stars all over it. I do not remember of her scolding.
We had a Spanish friend, an old cowpuncher hunter, who used to come to the ranch. He was very fond of me and called me little George. That day he came and took me on his lap and said, "If I had known about this, I would have brought you some "candy." Many years after that he was killed. I felt very sad about it and I remember him all through my life. I can see him as he was dressed. He was very dark . Wore a strap on his sombrero which fit under his chin. And his big furry chaps which were of Spanish kind. He had a friend called Rooster. Surname of Wilson. He was in love with my cousin, Jan. I think she was with him also, but our folks did not approve. Years after she met him and lived in Rawlins, and they had such a nice friendship. Of course they were both married to other spouses, so nothing came of their love for each other. But they were dear friends.
Images & Attachments
|Obituary||Hassed, Georgia (01/22/1884 - 12/19/1980)||View Record|