Excerpt from My Life With Buffalo Bill
Mr. Sorenson drove steadily and as fast as the trail and the horses' stamina would let him. We pulled into Choteau just as the sun was sending its last lingering traces out of the mountains to the west - a drooping, mournful red that seemed in tune with our low spirits.
We had never before made the trip into Choteau in one day's drive, so we were all tuckered out. Pa's old friend, John Miller, the liveryman, as always, let us sleep in the livery stable office. Perhaps, if Ma had let me, I would have meandered out into the wonders of the streets of the town again for I had been to town only two or three times in my life. But Ma was too wise for that and I soon slept. Once or twice during the night I woke to hear a horse stomp an iron shoe against the slivered boards of his stall.
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