Almost 50 years ago, Thomas McCall and his son Homer stepped from the coach of the Idaho Central Railroad and looked down upon Boise Valley and the city of Boise. The two men had been dismayed by the endless miles of wild desert land and sagebrush, long-legged, lean jackrabbits and hungry slinking coyotes, through which they had passed for days. The barren, eternal wasteland with hardly a house insight appalled them by its utter loneliness and desolation. 

They had changed trains at Nampa and after long wait they took the Idaho Central to Boise. This branch-line had been only recently completed from Nampa to Boise by a company organized by James A. McGee of Nampa. 

One Cabin at Hunter  

At Nampa there were only a few houses set amidst a veritable sea of gray sagebrush; and at Hunter (now Meridian) they saw only one very lonely little house lost in miles and miles of sagebrush. All the rest of the way to Boise was acres and acres of sagebrush, and still more loping rabbits and coyotes. 

So it was with delight that they saw the little town of Boise nestling among the green trees and fields, while the Boise River wound its way down the wide valley; and the mountains rose above the city, their summits snow crowned.  
 

Alexander on Same Train 

The depot was on the bench then, and the two McCall men rode into town in a hack and registered at the famous old Overland hotel. And with them was a slender young Jew whom they had met on the train coming west. He was a most friendly and kindly young man in they took a great liking to him on the tedious trip. His name was Moses Alexander. He had come west to regain his fortune-and he told the McCalls of his ambition in the west. 

Moses Alexander rose to be governor of Idaho, and built up a business in Boise and left a beautiful building as a monument to his industry and success. 

Mines Fail to Attract 

The McCalls found Boise and bustling little frontier town. As they lounged about the Overland hotel, they listened to the stories of miners, stockmen and others as they told of the great new strikes in the Boise Basin, Silver City, Warren and other booming mining camps of Idaho and the West. But the McCall men were more interested in the cattle business for neither knew anything about mining 

Homer McCall was in poor health, and his father had brought his son to Idaho with the hope that the change of climate might benefit. 

'You Otta See The Grass' 

One day they heard a group of men talking of the great new country to the north. A tall and lanky young trapper dressed in overalls and a new shirt and wearing a wide brand western hat, was speaking, his dark eyes glowing with enthusiasm as he spoke, "I think the Long Valley country is the future cattle country. You just otta see the grass and the fine range up there. Bunch grass belly deep to a horse. And talk about hunting and fishing-why a man can just naturally live off the country if he has some bacon, flour and a few beans." He stopped for breath amid a rapid fire of questions. 

"Then there are simply miles and miles of the finest timber that I ever saw-huge yellow pines and firs-acres and acres of them. And there is hardly a house in the entire valley. That country sure has a big future, I'm thinkin'."

"How about the winters?" asked a listener. 

Lake Full of Fish 

"I don't know much about them yet," was the reply, "but I can tell you more this time next year. I am on the way up there now. I forgot to tell you about Payette lakes at the head of Long Valley. Say, it's the prettiest lake I ever saw in all my life-and just chock-full of big fish. Great big lake trout-and they are gamey. Simply aching to get caught. It's a region of mountain lakes-just hundreds of them, and all of them great fishing. I never saw so many deer and other game. And the red fish and white fish run every fall-just millions and millions of them." 

"How about the roads?" asked Thomas McCall 

"Well, there are none to brag about-but a man can make it all right if you don't go to early in the spring. There's a ferry at Smiths Ferry. A man can ford the other streams." 

"Sounds good to me, Dad, young Homer McCall said. "Just the country we are looking for." 

"Yes-it does. I would like to look it over," his father answered. 

Tom Becomes Rancher 

So the idea was sold to Thomas McCall. He thought that the great timbered country would suit him much better than the sagebrush. He had been raised in the beautiful timbered country of Ohio, and he thought the sagebrush most desolate and lonely. 

He looked around Boise for some sort of work, and he finally met John Ireton who was hunting a man to work on his ranch. Mr. Ireton engaged Thomas McCall on the spot, and the next day the three men drove to the Marsh and Ireton ranch. The ranch looked like paradise after the long dusty drive over rough mountain roads-a paradise of soft green alfalfa fields and the quiet, cool shade of trees.

The Marsh and Ireton ranch was one of the most famous of those days. It was a well known stopping place for miners, prospectors, freighters and other travelers. There at night one found great freight wagons, the horses resting and feeding after the hardpull. Long strings of pack horses and little gray burros and mules fed in the big barns, or on the lush grasses of the ranch. 

Family Comes West 

At night the men lounged about the leaping campfires, smoking and swapping yarns about the great frontier country. Today, the little town of Montour is built upon the site of the old Marsh and Ireton ranch. 

Later, Thomas McCall sent for his wife and family. His wife, Louisa, his sons Ben, Dawson and Ted, joined him at the ranch. Later, his daughter, Flora, came-and still later, the eldest son, Will, joined the family.

Homer's health had not improved by the change as they had hoped. He died. 

The family buried him not far from the ranch. 

The McCall family had listened to other accounts of the beauty of the Payette lakes and the Long Valley country. They decided that they would move into that country with the idea of locating permanently. 

That summer and fall, the mother canned fruit and dried corn and vegetables and fruit, and made other preparations for the trip. 

And the men brought two good teams, wagons and harness-and about 25 head of cattle. Ben McCall continued working on the ranch until spring. 

Mountain Roads Fierce 

At last the wagons were loaded and horses hitched. The boys started ahead driving the cattle. 

There were no smooth oiled highways, no high-powered, shining cars then. The roads were awful, especially in the early spring-mud holes where the wagon wheels sank to the very hubs and even the horses often lost their footing and floundered helplessly in the deep mire. The grades were steep, slippery and the roads rutted and very rocky. The road makers of those days were careless in their engineering-there was little public money to spend. The idea of a road was decidedly sketchy. Just so a fellow could get over the roads somehow was a general idea. But with all the hard and rough going there was little risk to life and limb in the mode of travel-one nearly always arrived at the destination safe and sound. 

Rest At Squaw Creek 

The two wagons move slowly, the horses straining as they climbed up the steep and narrow grades. When they reached Squaw Creek Summit, they found 10 other families camped there waiting for the snow to melt before they proceeded. They were bound for Long Valley and Payette lakes in search of ranches and homes. The party finally decided after a short conference that they would make the attempt at once; and the next morning very early the long wagon train started again. 

It was slow traveling at the best-and some days they were lucky if they made two miles; often when they camped at night saw their campfires of the night before still burning. Many times they were forced to stop and build temporary bridges over swollen streams, or to build corduroys over muddy stretches before they even made an attempt at crossing. Every low place was a rushing stream of muddy water. It took two weeks of hard work by men and horses to make the trip from Squaw Creek Summit until they rolled into Long Valley. 

(To Be Continued)

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