A Jewel of the West: Mountain Mill

In 1879 "just five years after the arrival of the Mounted Police in the West the Indian Department sent John Keene out from Ontario to establish a mill for sawing logs and grinding grain on Mill Creek, just eight or so miles southwest of the small settlement of Pincher Creek.... It was thought that this would encourage the Indians to build homes and turn to farming.  And so began the first activity west of town."  In 1881 the mill was sold to Senator Peter McLaren who sent William Lees out as manager.  From then on it was a big business factor in the life of the village of Pincher Creek, "and many of our prominent citizens first came west to work there."  [The original blacksmith shop still stands on the site today in 2011.-ed.]  Across Mill Creek to the west "The NE 1/4 of Sec.12-6-2-5 was filed on by Ben Short, stepson of the late Fred Pope [in] 1900.  He failed to prove it up and this left it open for Alex White who proved up on it and lived there until 1920.  [...Alex was quite a horseman...a cowboy at Mountain Mill for many years and then moved to Pincher Creek.]  He sold it sometime later to Thomas Hughes, a retired coal miner, another bachelor [who] lived there until his death in 1950.  This land is now owned by Ken Gamache."  In 1977 it was sold to Dave and Mary Balfour.  The old farmhouse was destroyed in a septic gas explosion in 1979.  (Quotations and basic facts from Prairie Grass to Mountain Pass by The Pincher Creek Historical Society, 1974.)

Big Iron On His Hip

"A great many people have an idea that old-time westerners spent half their time shooting at each other ... a few did carry them openly but they were range men or from across the line.  Ed Dalton was one of those Americans who packed a gun; it was said that he was wanted on the other side, also that the Mounties were looking for a chance to pick him up; this I do know, he was always on his guard.  He rode around the Twin Butte country a lot, but any time he stopped in at a ranch he was mighty careful always to sit with his back to the wall and facing the door.  I was at a picnic one day when Ed rode in with a couple of girl friends and joined us.  We were enjoying his company for he was a most likable fellow and a great favorite with the girls, but a Mountie also rode in and Ed quietly disappeared. The Mountie saw him pulling out but Ed had his gun on his hip so I suppose the Mountie thought it was better not to try to make an arrest right then and there and that night Ed drifted.  I heard later that he had shot it out in Montana and been killed."  Sixty Years in an Old Cow town by A.L. Freebairn.  (Today's title courtesy of Marty Robbins, Gunfighter Ballads.)

Jewel of the West, 1883

"Easterners always seem to associate the West with guns.  Not long ago a traveler from some wholesale house in Toronto was sitting around the hotel chatting with one of our old-timers who likes to pose as a tough old guy.  'Tell me' said the traveling man 'Was there much shooting among the cowboys around here?'  'Sure thing' said the old-timer, 'But we never paid much attention to it; why doggone it, when we wanted to start a graveyard back in '83 because the town had grown big enough to have one, a cow-puncher down on the Stewart ranch shot himself just to oblige us.'  This same traveler happened to be talking to me later and he repeated the story and asked me if it could be true.  'Well' I told him, 'As old Mormon Bill once said about the story of the creation ... there's some truth to it - we're here aren't we?'  The true facts are these: A cowboy from Montana was over hunting for some stray horses, he stopped over at the Stewart Ranch bunkhouse and when he took a notion to clean his gun, accidentally shot himself; so it was true that the first one buried in our graveyard had shot himself."  Sixty Years In An Old Cow Town by A.L. Freebairn.

Jewel of the West, 1882

"A more lovely spot it would be difficult to pick out, as we stood at the door of his ranch; the view of the Rocky Mountains rising up from the plateau reminded me very much of the view of the Alps from the terrace at Berne.  I think, however, that the comparison is in favour of the view that I am now describing, though the hills are of course not so high.  Beginning with Crow's Nest Hill, which gives its name to the pass, it is a curiously roundheaded hill and rises above the pass on the right hand; from this point, running the eye from right to left, comes a bold pyramidal peak [the Frank Slide had yet to occur], after this one or two finely outlined conical heights, and next the Castle Mountain, looking like a rampart, walls with high round towers rising at each angle; next to this, further to the south, is Victoria Peak, also a fine pyramidal hill, until the view ends in the Chief Mountain, with its squareish head, something like that of Ingleborough, in Yorkshire."  From Home to Home, Autumn Wanderings in the North-West, 1881-1884, by Alexander Staveley Hill (1825-1905).

Jewel of the West, 1881

"After passing the cutbanks, the place where we again approach the Willow Creek on its passage down to Macleod, we caught sight for the first time of the Rocky Mountains, extending along in a magnificent series of snowy peaks standing out against the pure blue sky, with snow clouds gathered around their summits, and bearing out more fully than I had ever seen before the Homeric phrase of the hill of cloud-collecting Jove.  They form at this place as beautiful a panorama as could be found of scenery of this character."  From Home to Home, Autumn Wanderings in the North-West 1881-1884, by Alexander Staveley Hill.