I'm Drunk. Correct. What The F*** Is

It Was Considered The Most Dangerous Route In The Hills, But As My Reputation As A Rider And Quick Shot Was Well Known, I Was Molested Very Little, For The Toll Gatherers Looked On Me As Being A Good Fellow, And They Knew That I Never Missed My Mark.

I'm Drunk. Correct. What The F*** Is It To You?

On October 28th, 1887, I Became The Mother Of A Girl Baby, The Very Image Of Its Father, At Least That Is What He Said, But Who Has The Temper Of Its Mother.

I Was In Deadwood At The Time And On Hearing Of The Killing Made My Way At Once To The Scene Of The Shooting And Found That My Friend Had Been Killed By Mccall.

I Left Montana In Spring Of 1866, For Utah, Arriving At Salt Lake City During The Summer.