CHARLES ALFRED PEYTON

Charles Peyton came to Canada with four other young Irishmen in the spring of 1882 (See Lee Family).

He wrote a highly entertaining story, “My First Two Years in the West.” The following passages describe the arrival of the party at Brandon — From Fort Garry

“Next day we boarded the first passenger train that ever ran to that new city. It was a slow trip as there was water everywhere, the track in innumerable places half washed away. On one
occasion the engine ran off the track and considerable time was lost to get it back. Arriving at our jumping off place we found a city of tents. One store was nearly finished and already starting to do business. For half a mile along the track old farm machinery of every description was dumped, most of it from Eastern Canada and of very little use in the West, the construction companies
having hauled it in during the winter.  The Assiniboine River covered the whole valley where two small boats were kept busy taking settlers across; the cattle and horses had to swim behind. You
would get the impression a gold mine had been discovered on the Prairie. A large tent with “Brandon Hotel” over the door caught our eyes. In this palatial hotel We boarded for a short time. They had double straw mattresses laid on the ground (no bed nor blankets). However,
this was our first experience pioneering in the wild and woolly west.

After waiting around for neariy two weeks, expecting those ill-fated supplies, which I regret to say never arrived, we resolved to buy another tent and start housekeeping as the big red-headed hotelman was soaking our party to the tune of fifteen bucks per day. So we bought a small bell tent, but found considerable trouble trying to cook without a stove and no fuel but our next neighbor had a load of dry poles he had found along the river so we would swipe a pole
after dark ‘sometimes. I remember one night when my turn came, crawling on my stomach to the pile and had just got hold of a stick when a bullet whizzed through the wood not more than
one foot away. You may be sure I got back to the tent in a hurry with no wood. We often heard shots at night, so evidently the newcomers were trying to protect their firewood.

A big bunch of oxen in a corral were for sale and as they appeared to be selling fast we picked out two teams which we bought, paying $250. and $275., and two new wagons with boxes. The latter cost far less than they would today. We were getting very impatient waiting for
those supplies from Winnipeg but were told that several miles of the dump washed out so no trains were running and would not for a long time. After waiting nearly one month, we had to buy another outfit at the new store but expected to get the Hudson Bay supplies at some future time — which we never did, not knowing enough to sue the C.P.R. This was the first set-back our party got. The remittance boys paid for oxen and wagons.”

A year later, after working with a section gang at Minnedosa and as a bricklayer’s helper in Winnipeg, the young Irishman returned to Brandon — Oxen and a Red River Cart

“I bought a good second hand stove, with all the necessary cooking utensils, bed and tick, a number of farm tools, picked up cheap at sales, knowing they would be required on the farm. In The fall I shipped this stuff to Brandon, intending to buy oxen there to take me home. Getting off at that point, I was amazed at how it had grown from a tent city in a little over one year. After
looking around I found a boarding house run by a nice little widow, where I stayed for a few days. Coming down early next morning, noticed the little lady was filling up two barrels with water from a pump some distance away; I took the pails and filled them, thinking it good policy to keep on the right side of my landlady. After breakfast she told me if I kept those barrels full, my board and bed would be free; that was OK with me.

I had saved about three hundred dolmrs so headed for the Livery Barn to enquire about oxen. The owner, a big good-natured looking chap remarked, “Everything that wears hair and horns is bought up around here. I could sell a dozen teams right now.” That was bad news but the following day he accosted me on the street: “Hello Buddy, did you find any oxen”? “Not yet” I replied. “Well, say how would you like a couple of good three-year-old steers; you could break them in to take your load home; They would only cost half as much as trained oxen. A Scotchman about twelve miles out has them for sale.” “A little bit young”, I replied. “Oh, they will get over that.” This was obviously true so that I arranged with him to direct me on the train for Sandy’s farm next morning. About noon that day I got to his home; the family had just finished dinner. He showej me a fine pair of steers that had just come home for water, a black and a red one. “I will sell you the black ‘un but canna sell the red critter as he belongs to my neighbour over in yon house.” He pointed to a house about half a mile away. I decided to see the owner of the red critter first, before making any deal for the black ‘Un. When I arrived at the house, found
him cutting wood for the stove. After a few customary remarks he asked, “Did you have any dinner, young fellow”? which was what I needed very badly just then. “Well, go right in, the woman will get you something to eat.” She was a nice chatty little body but with true feminine curiosity got my whole history before the meal was finished. This family had come from the East a short time previously. Having agreed to pay him fifty dollars for the steer, was starting back to buy Sandy’s black ‘un when he called after me, “Don’t tell Scotty what you paid me, you might get his for less.” That was good advice, as it was the first remark Sandy made. The team cost me ninety dollars. My new friend very hospitably invited me to stay at his place for the night, remarking,
“Sandy will never board strangers”. As my two bovines had never been handled they naturally were very wild. Now, having noticed an old ox yoke along with some other junk beside the barn, figured out that was just what I needed. I offered Sandy far more than the thing was worth. “Nothing doing”. He would not sell. His son told him to let if go as they never used it. However, he compromised by lending the yoke to get the steers to Brandon, where harness could be procured, if I left it at the Livery Barn. This was okay with me, so promised to do that.

I had plenty of help, as both families assisted, to get the brutes started. We had quite a circus, the black ‘in would stand on his head, turn right over, coming up on the wrong side, then the yoke would have to come off to straighten them out. One of Sandy’s boys suggested tying their tails together; that was a bright idea. I now had them secured fore and aft, so under better control.

        Having got started at last, they sure made me run •some, holding on to the halter rope tied round the horns, but soon got down to a more reasonable gait. After travelling nearly five miles, came to a house with a Red River cart in the yard. Now that would suit me find if it was for sale, so turned in, tying the team to a wagon wheel. He asked six dollars for the cart. It was in splendid
condition with a good pair of oak shafts. “That cart is no good to you”, the owner remarked, “unless the shafts are cut out, which would spoil it.” After looking it over, I said, “How about putting a leave the shafts where they are”? He laughed, saying “It might work.” In about an hour the pole was fixed in good and solid. We bored a hole for drawbolt, from which a rope or chain is attached to yoke. My harness was now complete. Pushing the tongue in between the steers, fastened the rope, when all was ready. They bucked and kicked, trying to get free, then started running straight for home. Every cowboy knows that steers of their age will often outrun a
good cowhorse. We were going fast but when the cart started squealing, went still faster, and must have gone between one and two miles before getting the brutes turned in the right direction to Brandon.

        In the old days the Hudson Bay Company freighted all their supplies with these carts. They are built for one animal, without nails, screws, bolts, or iron of any kind; when an axle wears out
a new one is cut from the nearest bluff to replace it. In about ten minutes the cart is on the trail again with a new squeal.”
(We would have liked to print the whole of this graphic narrative. It is to be hoped that it will be printed in full and preserved in the Russell Library.)

This site made possible by the Town of Russell

Family History Main Page |  Town of Russell  |   Town History Pages

NEW - History being collected.  If you live or have ever lived in the Russell area please click here.

The site created and maintained by The Grain Web.