[1] My dear “Nancy.” Tonight I have finished writing some Christmas letters above my desk, in the place you know is "Dust." The sunset glow lighting up the red visage countenances of the Indians who have ridden up on a butte and who look with ap- prehension across a ruby toned river – Toward mountains that glisten in the distance. On my desk to the right is the life like figure of in bronze – of the cow puncher hat in air muscles strained to painful tension, every atom of physical endur- ance called upon, to conquer the [illegible] Effort, of the “sun [fishing]” [2] bowed, in the Effort to Empty the saddle of its incumbent. to my left in suitable frame are the four dashing figures on charging horses against a background of Montana sage brush that fades away into a sky line of her Mountains. Constituting the Christmas card upon which you and Charlie sent your “Western Greeting” – on the Mantel is a pen and ink sketch of a round up at Calgary. Where the cow puncher riding with uncertainty a buffaloe[sic]. An Indian on a bucking cayuse and a tenderfoot “pulling leather” on an animated mule, all finish [illegible] to a scarlet coated, brass buttoned. [3] Canadian Mounted policeman upon a properly "[illegible] hoss” dominates the foreground of the picture. and with cynical Expressions disdainfully views the hurdy gurdy action of the rodeo. Across the room, upon the wall a bull Elk and his mate have walked out from the seclusion of a clump of pines upon a mountain side, and stand gazing with living Eyes across a mountain valley Toward distant snow clad peaks, that shimmer in the reflection of a setting sun. [4] all of these about me are reminders of the genius and the splendid attainment of my friend for whom I grieve, but whose memory will ever live by reason of his Enduring touch. But in my heart tonight for you who lost not only what all of us who knew him and loved him lost, but so much more, there is, particularly at this time a feeling of sympathy in which many join me and to which I must give Expression. Sincerely, Dec 16th 1926. C.F. Kelley [Transcribed by Lauren B. Gerfen, 2012-05-07]