Jamie Lisa Forbes
Throughout southeast Wyoming, you can find the scattered homesteads of those from an earlier era who had hope and ambition, but whose dreams were snatched away by our rough, relentless winds.
One such gentleman was E.J. Bell, who tried farming and raising sheep, both tough prospects at our altitude of over 7000 feet. I remember the furrows in the prairie ground from his plows. He built an impressive 2 story Victorian house, next to a reservoir. The cotton wood tree he planted is still there today. I still have pictures of the house and Mr. Bell himself, hopeful in his suit and tie.
E. J. Bell's section was later bought by C.J. Arnold who consolidated it with larger parcels and then all of Mr. Arnold's property was bought by my grandfather. When I was a young child, E.J. Bell's lovely house still stood, lonely, but stout, there on the prairie.
One winter night when all the roads were blocked with snow, my parents woke me and told me the Bell house was burning. I was six or seven. It was clearly visible from my window. With the deep snow, no one could get to it to save it. All that remained after the fire was its skeleton, which itself became the subject of many photographs because of the empty landscape around it, and its suggestion of those who have come and gone on the high plains.
We later discovered that our neighbor had burned down the house. He had taken his Caterpillar tractor out in the middle of the night, driven over the snow a mile or more to the house and set it on fire. He had to have been passionate about the matter, because, as always, the wind was blowing that night and the temperature would have been close to zero. Had he been angry at Mr. Bell? Or at us? It seems he could have just as easily gotten up in the middle of the night and set fire to our houses and barns. Why the Bell house?
There is a plot in there somewhere.
One such gentleman was E.J. Bell, who tried farming and raising sheep, both tough prospects at our altitude of over 7000 feet. I remember the furrows in the prairie ground from his plows. He built an impressive 2 story Victorian house, next to a reservoir. The cotton wood tree he planted is still there today. I still have pictures of the house and Mr. Bell himself, hopeful in his suit and tie.
E. J. Bell's section was later bought by C.J. Arnold who consolidated it with larger parcels and then all of Mr. Arnold's property was bought by my grandfather. When I was a young child, E.J. Bell's lovely house still stood, lonely, but stout, there on the prairie.
One winter night when all the roads were blocked with snow, my parents woke me and told me the Bell house was burning. I was six or seven. It was clearly visible from my window. With the deep snow, no one could get to it to save it. All that remained after the fire was its skeleton, which itself became the subject of many photographs because of the empty landscape around it, and its suggestion of those who have come and gone on the high plains.
We later discovered that our neighbor had burned down the house. He had taken his Caterpillar tractor out in the middle of the night, driven over the snow a mile or more to the house and set it on fire. He had to have been passionate about the matter, because, as always, the wind was blowing that night and the temperature would have been close to zero. Had he been angry at Mr. Bell? Or at us? It seems he could have just as easily gotten up in the middle of the night and set fire to our houses and barns. Why the Bell house?
There is a plot in there somewhere.
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