After Sonya Crocker's great uncle was mustered out of the Civil War, he moved west to Montana. In 1880 Crocker's great grandfather Corrydon Wilson joined him and they homesteaded near Wilson Creek. Wilson became the first postmaster of the Sadie post office that was established in 1882 in an area referred to as Sadie Bottom. The post office closed in 1909 and then the post office shifted to Calabar, a station stop on the new Montana section of the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railway. The post office there had been called Lock after the first postmaster Christina Lockie. In 1929 the post office became Sheffield

The area is still home to a few large ranches like the Cross Four Ranch. Sheffield still has a place on the map although it's past, present and future isn't much different from Horton. Horton is only a few miles away on the other side of the Yellowstone River on the old Northern Pacific Railroad line still operated by Burlington Northern Santa Fe Railway.

Corrydon W.(C.W.) Wilson was the first postmaster at the Sadie post office. He was also a writer and western poet. His book, “The Romance of the Pioneer Trails,” including poems written as early as 1878, was published in 1930. He was 76 years old. He was born in 1854 and died in 1942. In 2010 he was inducted into the Montana Cowboy Hall of Fame.

“The Old Homestead” – By Corrydon Wilson – Sadie, Montana


Am sitting at my lonely desk,
With tears to wipe away
Just musing sadly, musing on
Events of former days.


When sweetest strains of meadow larks
Rang out in early morn,
To gladden hearts at dear old home
Alas, now so forlorn.


The weeds are tall around the house
‘Tis quiet there within
Nobody seems to care a bit
Just so they got the tin.


Caresses sweet and love of gold
With some will die away,
The old homestead of fifty years
In future years will stay.


The old land mark, the cottonwoods
Are there as days of yore
And shades the old white house and barn
And milk house at the door.


The house it needs a coat of paint
Is looking worse of wear
The bridge across the creek is weak
In need of some repair.


The water in the well is good
The volume just the same
The trough it leaks and makes a mud
The cow barn needs a frame.


The fence it leans along the lane
And round the fields some too,
The fields are getting hard and foul
And needs be plowed anew.


This all conceived never-the-less
The virgin soil is strong
And beckons for the time to come
When it can right the wrong.