pages 132-133

Pages 132-133

                My Father and brother, being busy, couldn’t get at it right away, so when Jim brought the last load, he went back again to bring his cows and calves.  And from then on, we had lots of milk for Father hadn’t bought a cow yet.  They were too busy carpentering and also having someone to clear the sage brush from their bench land so they could get in a crop of wheat.  Jim got canvas to cover the lumber with to protect it from the weather and worked day after day setting posts in preparation for putting up the five strands of bob wire. 

Mother continued the job of trimping and looking after her turkeys, and as each day went by, seemingly enjoying it more all the time. 

                Round-up time was in full swing.  The cowboys went by often to their rounding and branding corrals an eighty acres above us; and at evening, instead of sitting around their own campfire, they would come down to our home for a song fest.  Some of the boys would bring along their guitars to play for us and others could play the piano.  The boys seemed to enjoy it and so did we.  Mother always had refreshments for them.  They, in turn, would tell Father to come to the camp for some fresh beef.  They were such a nice bunch of fellows and seemed to enjoy our hospitality.  We liked their cowboy music and they liked the latest hits my sister and I had brought with us from Portland.  My sister had not as yet picked on any certain boyfriend.  I think they all looked alike and not any one of them impressed her more than the other.

                “They all were good company,” she stated to me one morning “and fun to be with, but no more than that.”  The cowboys continued almost their evening visits until they moved camp higher up and most too far to come.

                But neighbors came visiting and time went on.  The hillside, once just a snowbank, began to blossom forth in the most gorgeous garden of wild flowers that I couldn’t resist the temptation of climbing for one of nature’s prize bouquets.  I loved the out-of-doors, and that time of year had arrived when the hills and valley urged me on to explore them.  Jim and I would saddle up when he wasn’t too busy.  We’d ride and ride, ascending the highest peaks the horses could climb.  Once up there, we’d just sit our mounts, take out the spy glasses we had brought along, with our lunch in the saddle pocket.  Looking in all directions.  There was our folks’ home in the valley, our pile of lumber on farther down, and wherever we looked to the east, west, south, or north, the green wheat fields, cattle on a thousand hills, Heglar Valley, Sublett, Snake River, Raft River, the one we had camped at the day we came across the valley to our mountain home and there was Rupert in the distance.  We looked far and wide and long.  The view couldn’t have been more beautiful.   I never did forget the button I lost from my coat on one of these highest mountain tops. 

                April had gone out like a lamb, almost like a June day.  The sun still shone warm when we descended over the trail we had previously rode over.  “And tomorrow would be May the first.“  I said to Jim, riding a bit ahead of him,  for the trail was narrow and at times the horses seemed to be almost standing on their heads because of the steepness of the trail.  “Yes,” he said, “May basket day.  We could get a lot of pretty flowers here to fix one.”  He went on to say, “when I was a small boy and my Father was a minister, my two sisters and I used to fix and set these baskets at doors and knock or ring the bell and run.” “that must have been fun,” I said.  “and when I was a small child, well do I remember being all dressed in my best in those Maypole dances at school and church.

                The winding trail had brought us back to the valley now.  And both horses were on the gallop and continued so until we came into the yard.  The saddles and blankets were quite sweaty when we lifted them from the horses’ backs, for that was a pretty rough ride.  So Jim gave each a feed of oats with their evening meal of hay to re-pay them for the good ride we had had.

                Mother’s supper was so inviting for we were both hungry from the trips, and the mountain air so induces one’s appetite.  I had gleaned a lovely bouquet of flowers.  Jim would stop and get them for me as we rode along.  Mother admired them so, for she loved to cultivate and raise them.  She handed me down a vase to put them in saying, “this new vase will show them off well.”

                Father was sitting by the table thumbing through a pretty seed catalog.  He was already making plans for a garden on the narrow strip of ground beside Shirley Creek, for there in summer, no matter how dry, it would always be moist.

                My sister was playing and singing a very beautiful song, and everyone seemed happy.

                As darkness crept over the valley, Jim and Father talked late that evening, partly about our house and when they could start on it.

                Finally, all retired, but somehow Mother couldn’t get to sleep.  I could hear her turn now and then from the bedroom across the hall, and of course, I hadn’t gone to sleep either.  It must have been midnight when we heard someone come in the kitchen door and call,  It was my brother.  Mother arose quickly and went downstairs.

                “What is it Harry?” she said.  “Ida” he said, “we’ll have to have the doctor.”  “but it’s only seven months,” Mother protested.  Jim hearing them talking came from the downstairs bedroom, “I’ll go for you, Harry.”  “no,” Harry replied,  “I’ll go.  Just let me have your horse and buggy,”  Jim hitched up, faster he thought than he had ever done before and Harry was off to phone at Sublett to Malta for the doctor, and go on to Sublett Creek to get the nurse,  a short heavy-set elderly lady that had taken care of cases without number.

                Mother went up to stay with my sister-in-law.  It was early morning before the doctor arrived.  He was on another trip when called and thirty miles to drive with a team and buggy.  He came to our house first.  Mother gave him some cake and hot coffee.  Later he came back to eat breakfast with us.  He was in hopes of avoiding this “only seven months too early”  he said to Mother.  If I could have gotten here last night.  She’s resting now, and I hope this will wear off.” He said as we sat eating breakfast.