Abbie B., age 23, Kansas

This has been an unusually long day—and I feel de­pressed. A shower is coming, hope it will cool the air.

The heavy rains raised the river, and a heard of cattle in crossing, stampeeded, and 15 or 20 were drownded. Every week thousands of Texas cattle are driven north over the trail. If the cattle stampede, and dont want to cross the river, the hearders yell and fire off their revolvers.

Sometimes we hear them here, and it sounds—as I suppose a battle does. It is the cattle that keep the trail worn so smooth. Their droppings are called “cow chips,” and when dry, are burned by those who have no wood.

Before Mrs. N left, two skunks fought on her door step— then ran to the spring, and scented that, that they could not use the water.   Mrs. Lucky carried a revolver at her side, but when a skunk scared her she forgot to use it. I have not seen her since Mrs. N moved. I think she moved too.

It is windy, and the cotton wood seed is flying each with a bit of cotton, making it look like a snowstorm. Here come the boys and the rain too.

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