In the spring of 1879, Flora Gardner traveled from Kansas to Bozeman with her family, via steamboat and wagon. Once settled in her new home, Flora sent a letter to friends in Kansas describing the trip’s adventures. This is the final installment of a four-part article sharing Flora’s letter chronicling the family’s two-week-long wagon adventure from Fort Benton to Bozeman. Last month’s article ended when the Gardner family reached Helena. An edited and annotated continuation of Flora’s letter follows.

Main Street in Bozeman in about 1873, as it looked a few years before the Gardner family’s arrival in 1879. Photograph courtesy of the Gallatin History Museum.

Monday morning we packed our goods and started again for Bozeman. The country is broken and as usual up hill; there were little streams of clear water running in all directions, in many places it looks to me as if it ran up hill. We stopped for dinner near what is called the Half Way House. I did not learn where it was half way to, but expect to some fish pond. After a long rest, we drove on to Beaver Creek and pitched our tent for the night. This is a stage station. There is considerable timber on this creek and I thought it was a very pretty place.

Tuesday morning we made an early start. Ed told us the road would be rocky for about eight miles. I thought I understood him. Of course, I had seen rocky roads many times, but I soon found that my idea of it was very faint. The rocks are called boulders and are from the size of a goose egg up to the size of a water bucket. If the wagons touched the ground for nine miles, we did not know it. The boys made several speeches that did not sound like their prayers—said we could neither walk nor ride. I don’t think we will need another shaking for six years. Mother rode as long as she thought she could live and then climbed out to try walking. I had walked three or four miles and thought anything for a change so climbed in. The feather bed was in it and I laid down thinking it very comfortable until the wagon started, and then mercy, I held my breath for a while but soon was tired of that. The next best thing was to hold my jaws together to keep my teeth from shaking out. When the wagon stopped to let mother in, I was fast asleep. Ed thought I was dead. He said anyone who could sleep riding over such a road could sleep anyplace or anywhere. He will have to take me over a worse place than that to kill me.

At noon we camped on the bank of the Missouri River opposite Mr. McFadden’s house. We put up our tent and cooked dinner, after which Ed, the two little girls and I crossed the river and walked up to Mr. McFadden’s house about a quarter of a mile distant. We met Mr. McFadden in the pasture. He did not know me. Mrs. McFadden did not know me until I laughed. They made us very welcome and we almost forgot that we were pilgrims and had been so thoroughly shaken up that day. Mr. McFadden has a beautiful farm, a fine large house, well-furnished. Their table fairly groaned beneath the good things they spread upon it and we did groan from eating so much. After supper we all went into the parlor. We had a real good time and sat up until one o’clock. Mrs. McFadden said, if she had not thought we were very tired, she would not have let us go to bed that night, for she had not started to talk yet.

Members of the Gardner, Waite, and Fisher families in 1908. Flora and Edward M. Gardner are sitting at the top of the group. Photograph courtesy of the Gallatin History Museum.

Originally from Kentucky, the Gardner’s friends George C. and Mary Dougherty McFadden lived in Missouri before journeying to Montana in the mid-1860s. The family settled just north of what is today Townsend and purchased their first homestead in 1872. George McFadden was a freighter and rancher and built an impressive home, described by the Helena Daily Herald in 1876 as “one of the finest in the Territory, where the wearied traveler can find rest and refreshment.”

We soon bid our friends good-bye and started over a range of mountains. Of all the walking I had yet done, this was the hardest. Ed and Charley drove the teams while the rest of us went on ahead. The teams could only go a few rods until they would have to stop and rest. I began to imagine my breath was getting short and we did all get color blind, everything looked so green. Fin would occasionally get behind me and give me a good shove. That helped some. He would shove Florence too, but it was always downhill instead of up, so she had the pleasure of walking over the same ground three times. We did get to the top and lay down to rest until the wagons came. I told Ed if he wanted me to go any further, he would have to haul me. He took me in, and all the rest of us, for it was downhill now.

At noon, we were in Crow Creek Valley. There is a ranch here and after dinner we crossed Crow Creek where there is a store and several good houses. We were in sight of Radersburg but not very near it. This is mining country and is very broken, no timber except along the creek. That night we camped at Nave’s Ranch on the high prairie. We all went over to the house to call on the lady who said that she was seventy years old, but she did not look to be more than fifty. She was keeping house for her son, a widower, and taking care of four children. Now if you want to be able to work at seventy years of age, come to this country where you will feel young as long as you live, and live as long as you want to.

Thursday at noon we stopped for dinner on the bank of the Jefferson River; it is a large stream and has a good bridge over it. I cannot tell how many bridges we crossed that afternoon, but I began to think they had plenty of bridge timber in that country. The next stream of any size was the Madison. Here there was a large hotel and store with a big sign “pay your toll here.” That night we camped in the Gallatin Canyon. There was a house there but they had no barn so our horses had to be tied to the wagon. I did not rest much that night as I was up several times to see if the horses were choking.

Friday morning we started early. We had just twenty-eight miles more to travel until we would see what was to be our home. All of us were anxious to get through. We passed through Gallatin City—a very pretty place, but not much of a city. We ate dinner on the bank of the Gallatin River where there is another toll bridge and they asked us for 50 cents more of our Missouri money. After going through considerable timber and crossing several more streams, we came into the Gallatin Valley which we have all heard so much about. It looks like an immense pasture fenced on one side by the Gallatin River and on the other side by snow-covered mountains. There were herds of cattle and horses grazing along the road and ranches here and there, but the settlements were thin until we reached the East Gallatin. Here the land seemed to be all cultivated. Up and down that stream as far as we could see, the houses were thick and all looked neat and comfortable. I wondered how so many people ever found their way out here, but guess they just kept going until they found the prettiest place in the world and then stopped and pitched their tent as we did.

About four o’clock we came in sight of Bozeman. We all looked and looked again and were well pleased. We thought it far ahead of anything we had passed by. We were anxious for the mail, so Charley took a [shortcut] and walked three miles. We drove into the edge of town and pitched our tent near the new Public School building. [This was likely the old West Side School, constructed in 1877 and located on the current site of the Emerson lawn.] It was raining hard, rather a damp introduction but that was nothing in a new country. Charley soon came up with a bunch of letters, so we all read and were happy our first night in Bozeman.

I know you are disgusted with this long letter for I am disgusted with myself. The rest of the family have had lots of fun at my expense. I would not dare to send such a letter to anyone, but I know you have lots of charity. If any of the neighbors care to hear about our trip, please read it to them. Correct the bad grammar and say nothing about the intolerable spelling.  

Love to all. Write soon to your friend,
Flora Gardner

Flora Gardner with three of her grandchildren in 1908: Katherine Fisher, Elizabeth Gardner, and Gardner “Pete” Waite. Photograph courtesy of the Gallatin History Museum.

Flora, Edward, and the children settled happily in Bozeman, where they were faithful members of the First Presbyterian Church and a treasured part of the community. Edward Gardner established an insurance and real estate business. Flora and Edward’s grandson Gardner C. “Pete” Waite later operated the firm, called Waite and Company, which celebrated its one hundredth anniversary in 1980. The Gardner family home, located at 301 S. Grand Ave., stands today. Flora McCreary Gardner passed away at the age of 70 in January 1910.

Covered wagon float in a Bozeman parade celebrating 100 Years of Waite and Company Insurance and Real Estate, 1980. Photograph courtesy of the Gallatin History Museum.