Letters on an Elk Hunt
In 1909, a woman homesteader in Wyoming sat down to write to her friend Mrs. Coney in Denver, and what she produced was something far richer than mere correspondence. Elinore Pruitt Stewart's letters capture the daily miracle of frontier life: the brutal cold, the isolation, the fierce satisfaction of making a home on open range. But it's her voice that makes these pages sing - sharp, funny, unsentimental, and full of genuine delight in the world's small wonders. When she sets out on an elk hunt with her husband, the adventure becomes both a physical journey and a meditation on companionship and survival. Between the hunting tales, she sketches the people she meets - homesteaders, neighbors, a selfless dish-washer named Connie - with an novelist's eye for character and a friend's generous spirit. These are letters from a woman who refused to be small, who found grandeur in Wyoming's vastness and meaning in its hardships. A window into a vanished world, yes, but also a portrait of a particular, irreplaceable human being writing from the heart of her own life.
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“How did you learn it all?” I asked her. “How can you know just what to do, and then have the courage to do it? I should be afraid of doing the wrong thing.” “Why,” she said, “that is easy. Just do the very best you can and trust God for the rest. After all, it is God who saves the baby, not us and not our efforts; but we can help. He lets us do that. Lots of times the good we do goes beyond any medicine. Never be afraid to help your best. I have been doing that for forty years and I am going to keep it up till I die.” Then””
— Elinore Pruitt Stewart






