pages 300-303

Page 300-302

                “Did you know,” Jim said, as the team went into a steady trot, and consulting his watch, “that we will have to travel some to make up for lost time.”

                “Oh, but it was all so interesting,”  I replied, training the field glasses for the last time on the old cowboy, galloping off over the desert, hoping someday we’d meet again for more of his long gone by talks, thinking, I remember he said, “Take good care of your selves, we may meet again sometime.” When he rode away on the desert into the rays of the midday afternoon sun.  I said to Jim, whose mind was on other things more important, scarcely hearing me when I spoke, finally poking him with my elbow, “Are you asleep or in a trance?”

                Neither,” he replied, “just thinking of getting there.”

                The Valley, practically behind us, we were on the climb, heading for the point of the mountain, that windy point, where it mattered not, what direction the wind blew, ir was always windy, even when a stillness prevailed.  Here we were, the closer we came, the harder the wind blew.  “Hang on to your hat,”  Jim said,  “here it is, “ stopping the horses for awhile before making the descent to view Rupert and that of the Minidoka County surrounding it, what a lovely scene, so pleasing to the eye.  There was the cold old Snake River and the bridge we would soon cross, down hill all the way, we’d soon be there, the smell of the lush green alfalfa rose from the damp earth and here was the river.  Driving along pretty close to its bank, with the wind in our faces, and the Killdeers with their sharp whistling cry, we found much around the river, the black birds whistling their shrill note, swaying back and forth on cat tails, that grew in clusters along the waters edge, the meadow lark sounding off in a sweet thrilling way, the wild ducks in numbers swimming with the tide, then the horses hoofs making that pounding noise on the bridge.  We were leaving Cassia County and entering Minidoka County.  This looked good to dry farmers, everything so green and lovely.  But , our wheat fields were just as nice, with green grass and flower-bedecked hillsides for a backstage, but we did not have the pretty flowers and green lawns as they, and their lovely shade trees, it took water for all of this, more than we had.

                Turning to me, Jim said, “They have already arrived, it’s later than you think.” But, we had told them should this happen, where Jim’s uncle and aunt lived, driving directly to his uncle’s house They came out on the lawn as the team came to a stop. Iw as so glad to see my sister, I could hardly get out of the white top wagon fast enough, as she came to meet me.  Then, my brother- in-law and their three sons, it was a very happy reunion.

                Jim took the team out to his friends place, while we all went in.  There was no need of an introduction for they had already met this grand, wonderful family, Jim’s uncle, aunt and children.  What a nice visit we had that evening together, in this lovely home.  My sister and her husband were most impressed, being the first time they had met.  The hours passed rapidly, it was late before we retired.

                Jim awake early to go out and bring the team and white top in for us to get on with the long trip back to the ranch, after breakfast, suitcases were loaded and all in, going into the business section, did quite a lot of shopping at the different stores, then back later to bid Jim’s folks goodbye and thanking them, then off to the depot, where my brother -in-law would take the next outgoing train on his way to Montana, the city of Havre, where he would get things ready at their ranch some miles from Havre when his wife and sons’ visit would be terminnated and they returned there.

                Soon out on the road, the team took on an added git, trotting right along while we visited.  I always enjoyed these trips, but getting home was much more enjoyable.  Soon out of the Minidoka County across the Shake River bridge and into Cassia, off to a good start, back over the road we had come over just the day before, here was the climb, and after an hour or more, the point of the mountain with its usual wind.  The day passed rapidly and noon found us a Raft River.  Here we watered and fed the team, while we ate our lunch, and now that long ride across the flats, that wide valley.

                My sister said, “I see you have those wide open spaces just like we do in Montana, in fact much the same.”
                I was busy picking up objects here and there with the field glasses, for to our left was a cowboy herding cattle.  I was in hopes it was the old cowboy, but he was much too far away to find out, for he was heading in one direction while we were heading in another.  Soon my three nephews became interested in looking through the field glasses, taking turns, would call out in excited tones whenever something unusual came to view.  We paid little attention to them, for we were doing much visiting.  This was the first time my sister had met my husband but my sister’s husband by then was speeding away on the train to Montana.  After awhile all was quiet.  My sister sat thinking, as we neared the foothills and home, the sun still high in the sky and knowing she wanted to visit with our folks first, went on up the canyon, the quaken aspen smoke curling away over the hillside, showed mother was preparing the evening meal.

                Toby, spying us at the second gate, came bounding and barking to meet us.  This brought our folks out so all was on hand when we drove up.  You never saw folks so glad to see each other.  Jim and I stayed pt until it was all over, then as Jim started to turn the horses around to go home, Mother said, “No, no, come on in, you are to eat supper with us, also,”  But, we declined, saying the team was tired and we wanted to go home and get them out of the harness, calling back as we left, saying we’d be back another day.

                With a last wave, and the horses on a trot, we were soon out of the cool moist canyon, so different from the flats, with its dry or arid climate, it gave one’s face such a cool pleasant feeling, as the dampness arose from the floor of the canyon, mingled with the evening air.  At our gate, Jackie and Billy , Beauty’s colt, awaited us, in fact we heard Jackie gray long before we arrived.  First a cool and then a warm wind drifted down the section line enfolding us with its varied temperature as each blew against our faces like a caress.  With the chores done and removing the things from the white top, carried them to the house leaving them be as they were, we ate a light lunch and much tired from the day’s trip, retired for the night, only to be serenaded by our old friend , the coyote again with his crooning to a spring moon.  I well pictured him with his gaping mouth, head tilted back, nose pointed toward the mon, as his throat swelled and his jaws worked up and down emanating that supernatural voice so much a part of the coyote.  He and his wailing howl, so much a part of this country, ceased to have any effect on us, in most cases it aided us in getting to sleep.  Sleeping so soundly through the night, little realized it was morning until the sun came peaking in the window.

                Much refreshed, pushed back the quilts, slipped into my dress and started the fire in the range for the morning and then to get the breakfast, while Jim rode off to round up the horses.  Not far away this time, I barely had it started when I heard the whole bunch come on a gallop up the hill by the house. I went out quickly to help herd them in the corral.  This done, I went back to my cooking which by that time was  boiling over, and the toast much too brown, scraping some of the scorch off, stacked it up a plate, on top of the warming closet.  while I prepared the rest and set the table.  Glancing out, I could see Jim had hitched the team to the white top.  I knew then his plans were to take it home that morning, hurriedly, getting everything on the table, I then called Jim.  Soon settled and quite hungr4y because of our light supper, but I finished mine much faster for my plans were to go along, and I would have to comb my hair first.  I wore it in two braids, wrapped around my head now.  But, before I was married, I wore it in two curls down my back that had to be pulled aside to prevent sitting on it each time I sat down, with a large black bow at the back of my head. It was quite a chore to fix then and much more so now. I had it almost finished except putting  in the  pins when Jim announced he’d be going.

               “Wait,” I said, “I am going,” grabbing my coat for I found something new and pleasant in every journey we took.

                “I didn’t think you’d want to go,” he replied, “after the trip yesterday,”

                Jim helped me into the back, a slap of the lines on the horses’ hips and we were off.  An exceedingly lovely cool, but dry morning, not even any dew.  Once into the lane and by looking east, we could see father’s lovely field of wheat, so green, like a huge lawn, with the mountain for a backdrop or stage, surely he would have a good crop with so promising a stand.  I looked again through the field glasses and could see father and his two grandsons with Toby in the lead walking over it, it made an excellent picture even at this distance,  Then Jim got the team into a faster trot, thus my thoughts became attracted to other fields of grain, and various other things and objects.  Soon we were at the post office, but we’d get the mail later.  Warm Creek was flowing much faster so it seemed.  Then the ranch where we had borrowed the white top.  Those wonderful generous folks.  Now, to drive down that tree shaded lane to that homey ranch house.

                When Jim had changed the team from one rig to the other, he tied them and we went in, seating us in their living room for an hour or more of visiting.  The men’s voices much louder, causing the lady of the house and I to move to a  father corner, and here we slowly rocked back and forth while getting in our share of visiting.  An exceptionally nice person, one you could visit with for hours, without becoming tired.  After some little time, she excused herself, going toward the kitchen, I knew then she would expect us to stay for dinner , so I got up, saying to Jim, “We must be going.”  Then, they both insisted that we stay.  But, we declined, thanking them and inviting them to visit us, and soon we were off, stopping for the mail and looking it over, as we drove along.

pages 298-299

Pages 298-299

                It had been a long tiresome ride, so after a light supper, we read just a short while, then retired, blowing out the kerosene lamp, only to find the room still quite light, as the moon poured its rays in through the windows, with the out of doors most like day.  Soon we were fast asleep, tired from the long buggy ride, and with all thoughts of tomorrow forgotten,  We slumbered away until the crack of dawn broke the stillness of the night with the sun pulling itself atop the craggy mountain peaks to flood the country side, a dry like morning and a slight breeze with little whirling pools of dust or whirligigs that flitted over the valley like little whirling breezes, filled with the dust and debris they had collected, made quite a commotion as they whisked briskly in a whirring manner past the kitchen door into the canyon below.  Jim said this indicated a dry spell, and for several days this kept up.

                Jim spent much time each day harrowing until he had a deep mulch to preserve and hold the moisture below the mulch.  Then finally , the letter came, my sister, husband and three sons would be in Rupert.  This had to be planned, I set to work to get things in readiness, even doing a big washing and ironing, they would stay first with our folks, later spend much time with us, and we would make the trip to Rupert to bring them out.  The evening before, Jim went for the white top or mountain hack, we were to borrow from our good neighbor and friends.  We did much the night before in preparation, so when the soft cool breeze flooded the canyon preceding the dawn, Jim went out to get the team ready, while I prepared breakfast and our lunch.

                The hours and minutes seemed to take wings as we hurried about, with a saucy magpie from the pole corral mocking our every move.  This caused the whistling and chattering of other birds, a very pleasant morning with the turtle doves too enlivening the air with their sad sweet note.  These birds were like feathery alarm clocks, for their cooing breaks the stillness with the very first faint rays of dawn, joined by the querulous voices of other birds glad of a new day.  With Shirley Creek much noisier as it flowed along, tumbling, dashing over rocks and obstacles, with a cool mist hovering above it.  The last minute I thought to feed the chickens, and with the rest of the stock coming for their hay just as we were ready to drive away.  Jim had filled the manger, so we went on, opening and closing the gate securely and we were off for the long ride.

                We had not gone far into the flats when we could notice the dryness, for this was an arid valley, using our field glasses to draw out and observe things at a distance, with the sun becoming warmer and brighter as the time passed, drawing out the dusty smell of the sage, while birds sang from its tops and grasses and flowers flourished beneath it.  Now the sage was becoming smaller, filling in with grease wood and the clearings with June grass and thistles making excellent grazing for range cattle, that became more numerous as we drove along.  Mirages too again appeared as on other trips, only to find it the same as all the rest when we would arrive at this point of view.  Raft River was not a mirage though.  For the willows were plainly visible through our field glasses along its banks.  Raft River, the cross roads of the west, a good many years ago.  Here we thought we would stop, water and feed and eat our own lunch, then we’d be refreshed for the rest of the trip.

                We hadn’t sat eating long when a tall white haired cowboy appeared from down along the river, on a most beautiful mount, we had heard of him, born to the saddle and the range, with the herding of cattle in his blood, with a large ranch and heard of cattle.  He sat straight in the saddle, as he said, “I’ve been hunting cattle, had some stray away, just thought I’d ride a spell, might run across them.”  Turning to us, he said, “you are new to this country, this here is part of the Old Overland Trail, many is the covered wagons I’ve seen go through these parts.  This river was named Raft River by those pioneers who couldn’t ford it and had to build rafts to get their wagons and goods across, those going on west used this valley as a guide for others.”  He said, pointing in another direction, “Kept this trail going to Boise and other points.  I’ve seen them come, three to four and more wagon trains, women, babies and children, being pitched from side to side.  There were those with woebegone looks, with misery written on their faces, half sick, food about gone, horses with little flesh left on them, wagons creaking as though about done for, from the long weary trek.”

                Jim wanted to go, but I nudged his arm, I wanted to wait awhile longer.  This old cowboy knew things my ears were itching to hear, always wanting to learn more, especially of this vast western country I had suddenly become a part of, with its out of doors one huge amphitheater; for my learning and my viewing.

“The old Raft,” he went on, “was a mile stone to the many hundreds that traversed its lonely and sometimes miserable trail.  The raft is around sixty miles long from its source over the line in Utah.” Here his horse became a bit nervous, stomping, shaking his head and switching his tail, a beautiful animal, petting his neck, he said “Whoa, old fellow, you’ve seen younger days too, never you mind, we’ll be hunting them strays afore long, just want to talk a bit to these young friends of mine.”  The horse seemed to understand, quieting readily.  When we made a comment, he said, “Oh, he’s smart, I raised and trained him from a colt.”  Going on once more about the country he then said, “This river empties into the Snake or so to speak the two of them meet.  I’ve ridden along and played along its banks as a boy.  It’s almost a part of me, or sort of a pal.  I’ve watched beavers build dams causing it to overflow,  I’ve roamed the full length of it, I’ve cooled my feet on hot summer days, I’ve watched wild ducks nest and hatch from the bushes along its banks, to swim away and birds build their nest in the willows and hatch their young to fly to other parts from it and most of all the blessings it had been to the wagon train folks for water was everything in a dry country, many of them when they would come to a river like this would camp for a day or two, to wash and get cleaned up before going on.

                Here, his horse pawed the ground again, starting off at the same time.  Jim took advantage of it, clicked to his team and we were off, leaving the old cowboy to his strays and dreams, of his long ago boyhood days.  I couldn’t help but watch as we parted, the beautiful horse and the long strides he took, as they galloped off through the sage, with the wind for his guide and the echo of a bawl now and again from the ever drifting grazing herd.

pages 296-297

Pages 296-297

                We had not far to go until we heard Jackie bray.  And Jim said, “we are coming to the right place or else he has a mule, too.”  And then another bray.  When we drove up to the man’s corral, there they were looking no worse for their exploits.  Two dogs came bounding and barking at us from around the corner of the house, as the man came out and over to where we were, saying, “Them be your critters?”

                “They sure are,” Jim said, getting out of the buggy.  Jackie seemed anxious to get out of the gate, as Jim snapped a halter chain on his halter, and then Babe leading them out, tying one on each side of the team we were driving.

                The man said, “The fee will only be three dollars,  I kinder figured they came from over in your way from the direction they came from when I seen them,  they seemed to want in the corral, so I put them in, and then told a fellow that was going over in your part of the country.”

                Well, thanks,” Jim said, “thanks a lot,” paying him the three dollars and we turned to go, for the day was fast slipping and we didn’t want to be dark getting home.  Jim said later, “I guess we should have stayed and visited awhile with him.”

                “He seemed a bit odd,” I said, “and if he had a wife, she didn’t show herself.”

                “ I think maybe he’s an old bachelor.”  Jim replied, “for I’ve heard of him, “ he went on, and urging the horses into a trot, it was a bit hard going over a narrow road with an extra on each side.  It became cooler as the day wore on.  The mountain slopes we had left behind seemed to have been bathed in an unexplainable ghostly mystery, I thought, taking one last look back, while the horses kept to a steady pace, and too the little old cabin, that had baffled me with its hidden long ago mystical air, and yet it was an inestimable privilege to live in a country so close to nature one may enjoy at will, and with skies of lovely peaceful blue, lazy clouds floated above us, now over halfway across this wide arid valley.

                Our home mountains loomed on the horizon, It began to look good to us as well as the horses, once Jackie tried to bray, showing his dislike of the whole tiresome affair.  Jim prodded him saying, “It’s your own fault.  You’ll learn to run away from home.”

                A hawk sailed overhead, making a shrill penetrating cry, the bird cry of the hawk.  Some distance on and nearing our own ranch, a coyote took off through the brush being scared off of what he was stalking then another unbelievable sight, a cowboy reining his horse in, just as Jim brought ours to a halt.

                “I see you got them,” he said,, leaning on his elbow on the saddle horn with hand under chin.  “I’ve been hunting strays, did you happen on to any?”

                “Yes,” Jim replied, “but I wouldn’t say they were strays, They seemed properly branded,”  With that he rode off and we drove on thinking deep.  Jim said, “You know I can’t recall that fellow and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him.”

                “Well, just how did he know we had gone to get Jackie and Babe?  You couldn’t prove it by me, but perhaps he was part of the grapevine.  Why, and where we found where they were. Well, you remember the fellow that told you, said another fellow told him he heard through another fellow that a fellow over on Coe Creek clear across the valley west on a ranch on a mountainside, had a mare and a mule in his corral.”

                Well, you’ve got that down pat.”  Jim said, “That is just the way he said it, and you know that fellow knew just what he was talking about for we have the proof right now.

                Stopping to open the gate, Jackie sounded off with his triumphant bray and letting the two loose inside the gate, they took off like mad to meet the other horses coming from the top of the bench on a dead gallop.  Looking as though they would land on their heads coming down an almost perpendicular hillside into the canyon, and across Shirley Creek.  Before we could hardly think, they were all together, now whinnying, rubbing noses and talking to each other in the most welcoming horse language, as if trying to say “Just where did you go>”  By that time, Jim had turned the team loose.  With one mad dash the whole bunch fled, back up the hill, gone from sight, kicking, squealing in horse like fashion.  Jim then turned to me saying “You know what?”

                “Yes,” I replied, “all you have is shanks horses to round them up with in the morning.”

                 “How did you guess it?” Jim asked.

                “Well, “ I replied, “if there’s a horse tied to that hitch rack, he must certainly be invisible,”

                Jim walked over saying “Whoa,” acting like he was brushing the make believe horse, then said, “I know what I’ll do, I’ll not feed tonight , and by morning they’ll be hungry and glad to come.”

                I laughed, saying “ I hope your plans work out,” and went to feed the chickens, while Jim picked up an armful of sage wood to build the fire in the range.

pages 294-295

Pages 294-295

                Then Jim arose, dressed and went out into the dawn of a new day, coming in later, humming, then whistling a tune, a pretty tune.  He began rattling the stove lids, building the fire, saying as he did so, “It’s a peach of a day, couldn’t be better, let’s hurry around now, I’ll get the team hitched.”  Going out again, as I sleepily pulled myself up out of bed, yawning and stretching  lazily, put my clothes on.  The fire in the kitchen range was burning merrily from the sage wood.  When I took out the griddle to fry the pancakes I had made up the night before with yeast, this made the  them lighter and it had to be set before retiring.  While they fried, I put on the chokecherry jam, butter and made sugar syrup, then fried a cut-up onion with some left over potatoes, and made coffee.  This accomplished, breakfast was ready when Jim came in.  Spending little time with eating, I hurriedly made the sandwiches, packing them in a box along with the cookies, doughnuts and a jug of water.  This, Jim put in the buggy, while I cleared away the breakfast things, then, slipping into my coat.

                Jim assisted me into the buggy and we were off, driving through the gate Jim took extra precaution in shutting it before leaving for the day, looking back as we left the lane, could still see a thin wisp of sage smoke from the chimney curling away over the canyon.  We had a slight south wind that morning with the sun shining overhead.  But, now and then as I gazed upward feathery white clouds floated lazily by and I still imagined I could hear the murmur of Shirley Creek, for with the stillness of dawn or early morn, things were much plainer or one’s ears more keen, than at mid-day, and with our cheeks bathed and caressed by the soft cool refreshing early air of the desert, for the sun had only been from behind the mountain peaks a short while, traveling through heavy sage now on each side, of the road, a booming like noise resounded in our ears, slowing the horses and looking to the right was a clearing.  There before us was a most fantastic sight, that of the sage hens in the springtime, a bunch of them strutting  back and forth in a swaggering manner with puffed necks and ruffled feathers, with wings raised as if beating the air, making a booming like sound.

                “They are very pretty at this time of year.”  I said and thrilled by the sight, we sat for some time watching this phenomenon and perhaps not far away a coyote was slinking in the under-brush waiting his chance to greedily devour one or more, spoiling this grand sight of nature, I thought, as we drove on.  The sun was getting higher and warmer, now , for we were pretty well down in the flats where little houses and clearings dotted the landscape, people trying to acquire a home and piece of ground, and mirages, which appeared often before us, took shape some as trees and water, only to become an illusion, when we reached the spot.

                Pointing to a valley between two mountains, like hills, Jim said, “That’s where we are going.”

                “How do you know?” I asked.  “you’ve never been there.”

                “But,” he answered, “That is where Coe Creek is, and we are just supposed to find the fellow there with his ranch and corral.”

                “Well sure—I had that much figured out, too.”  And we both laughed with that hollow sound of the wasteland.

                Putting his arm around me, he drew me close, hugging me tight.  The horses were sweating profusely, with the dust of the flats, flecking their hair and evidently were thirsty, for they had had no water since we left home, hoping to find water soon for them, so we could feed the hay.  For Jim had put hay in the back of the buggy.  Consulting his watch found it almost noon, but since we were on the climb heading for this supposed man’s place, we continued on this slightly winding road, with a clump of trees now and then, letting the team rest at intervals,  Then on a little farther and here was a small stream flowing form its source in the hills, which we took to be the much heard of Coe Creek, then a house and corrals farther on up which we took to be the folks we were looking for.  Resting the horses a bit before going on, we were suddenly confronted with a herd of range cattle, coming down to get their noon day drink.  Jim pulled over to one side and stopped.  On seeing us though, they too off with fright in a cloud of dust.  Some distance away they stopped in a bunch, looking toward us.

                To the right we saw an old log cabin, and a broken down corral, water trough and trees with a grassy spot.  Jim’s suggestion sounded good when he said “the horses are tired. We’ll pause here, water, feed, and eat our lunch.”  driving into the yard.  Beneath the much appreciated shade, the horses seemed glad of the rest.  Jim spread the canvas, while I got out the lunch, having eaten an early breakfast, we were plenty hungry, sandwiches disappeared, then the doughnuts,  The cookies, I thought would be a surprise and Jim would like them, didn’t work so well even though I was enjoying them, saying he never cared much for raisins in anything.  Sitting awhile after we had finished to enjoy the shade, scenery and the view back across the flats over the long narrow winding road we had come and just behind us the partly crumbling old log cabin, which held a fascination partly through curiosity, for I was always inquisitive of things old, the sagging door ajar, held by one hinge, admitted me, the dirt floor that gaping hole on the far side of the room, with its days of usefulness long in the past and its occupants long gone left telltale traces of those long ago days, for in a darkened corner, a badly dilapidated baby cradle stood, I could readily imagine its many years of use and the babies’ rocked in its some fifty years before, its cupboards with doors gone and empty except for a broken dish or two, gave mute evidence along with the cradle and an old rocker, minus one rocker.  They had come perhaps by ox team across the plains; a partly worn crumpled and buttoned baby shoe lay in another dim corner. Sage rats had left their tell tale marks on an old bench sawed from a log.  The windows gone and open to the atmosphere, for the murmuring winds of summer to sigh through and the drifting snows of winter.  In the back of the fireplace a lot of debris was piled like the doings of a packrat, and bird had built her nest in one end of the cupboard.  Here was this tranquil peaceful old abode left to the ravages of time and destruction of nature, sagging and rotting from time, weather and the sighing winds was only a landmark now, once inhabited in by gone years, with shrubs , a wild rose and the trill of a meadowlark some distance away, but, for all this, years just stand still for the old log cabin, and undismayed with the trend of time, I thought, while looking back , as we drove on.

pages 292-293

Pages 292-293

                I walked among the rows, admiring the growing plants, clogging my shoes with mud. Then Jim said, “You are ruining your garden.”  Next, I went to see how my little chicks were doing, the dampness hadn’t been so good for them, several of them looked a bit droopy. But, the warm sunshine would soon correct that, both mother hens were taking the best of care of their brood.  Then back to the house for there was little else one could do that day, sitting ourselves down to reading and writing, took most of the day, until Jim decided he had harnesses that needed mending, so while he worked at his task, I set about to do more sewing, I wanted to have everything ready and waiting, for Doc had said he had even helped to make clothes for them, or at least the first outfit, he said, and there were times when they would miscount, only having one thing to wrap them in.  That wouldn’t happen to me though for I had practically everything made. 

                That night our coyote friend felt the need for more voice training so crooned to us by a hazy moon on a distant hill in such a strange fantastic way.  He yapped and yapped, almost putting us to sleep, awakening us at daylight with much of the same until either we forgot to listen or he ceased for the day.  Out into the fresh morning air I went, and what should fall on my ears but the soft cooing murmurs of the mourning dove.  I could hardly believe what I heard for we seldom heard them.  I hoped he would remain to send out his love notes at dawn and dusk just for me.  Where had he come from I wondered.  Had he come from the wild chokecherry orchard up to my folks?  They cooed so softly and sweetly there at morn and twilight, especially after a rainy spell.  Here I stood wrapped in my thoughts listening to the sweet love notes, then reminiscing, thought how wonderful was this quiet retreat, away from the overtrodden busy city streets, here one could think his thoughts and live his life in this mysterious world of nature, an inestimable privilege it is to live among this, so close to God’s gigantic wealth of nature, that I might have a part in or enjoy at will.

                Turning, I retraced my steps, taking several deep breaths of the pure ozone laden air, found myself busy in my own kitchen with pots and pans, fixing the first meal of the day – breakfast – it should be an appetizing one – or something that whets the appetite and gives one a lift for the day and work ahead, thus I buttered the toast, placed it in the oven, next the whole ground wheat mush, lastly the eggs and bacon and coffee – quite frequently though, we had Postum and pancakes or french toast.  I barely had the table set when Jim came in from his chores stopping in the door said, “Well, I think I know where Babe and Jackie are.”

“How come?” I asked.

“Didn’t you see that fellow ride away?”

“No, “ I answered.

“Well, you must have been busy for we have been talking for some time.”

                “Oh”, I returned, “how did he find out, by telephone?”

                “No,” he answered, “through the grapevine.”  That meant from mouth to mouth or person to person.  We had very few telephones, but the grapevine almost had it beat at times.  He said a fellow told him that another fellow, told him that he heard through another fellow that a fellow over on Coe Creek, clear across the valley west on a ranch up the mountainside, had a mare and mule in his corral answering the description of Babe and Jackie.”

                “Well,” I said, “that is quite a distance to go, if you are not sure,”

                Jim answered by saying, “I believe the fellow knows what he is talking about, so we’ll go take a look anyway,”
                Knowing we would have to have a little something extra for a lunch for the trip, after dinner I began to look through the cupboards.  Finding part of a package of raisins, I stood thus after my find wondering just how I would use them.  Thumbing through the cookbook, stopped short when  a headline said. “Filled cookies.”  As I read each line it became more intriguing.  “This is it,”  thinking to myself, so taking the bowl from the top shelf and the stirring spoon from the drawer, I was soon in the midst of making the dough, then the filling, to my delight they turned out wonderful from the oven.  I’d surprise Jim when we ate our lunch on the road tomorrow with these tasty tidbits, as I baked batch after batch until the house was filled with the delightful aroma and the last batch cooling, I began storing the first into the cookie jar, then busied myself with grinding some leftover chicken for sandwiches, this all finished and safely put away, I set about to plan our evening meal.  After having our lunch planned for tomorrow, taking a left-over batch of potatoes, soon had them into plump potato cakes, frying in the pan, and other things in turn, slicing the meat to fry etc,  having it all ready when Jim came in.

                Pulling the chairs back we sat down after Jim had washed and dried his face and hands.  “Well,” he said, “I am a bit tired, you’d be surprised at the sage you find after the harrowing.  I’ll do the burning some evening.” He said as we filled our plates, “But, tomorrow, we’ll go for those runaways, I’ll give them plenty to do when I get them back.”  Rising from the table after the meal was over, Jim went into the living room to relax and read, while I cleaned away the table and put things up, joining him there later, we did not set up too late because of the planned trip.

                As I drifted off to sleep, my mind went wandering off through the planned possibilities of that expedition, from one side of the mountain to the other, with that wide valley or flats in between and somehow the wandering and a dream became entangled then waking suddenly when my dreams left me stranded in the wide open spaces alone, with wild creatures of all descriptions.  Finding light sifting through our windows, I knew day was breaking, but I lay

pages 290-291

Pages 290-291

                When we went for the machine I took the goods along.  Mother helped me to cut out most of it, also making me a good pattern and saying we could spend the night and she would assist me in making the little garments.  I fell for this, so Jim went home to do the evening chores, returning about supper time.  My sister had prepared the supper, while mother helped me.  A number of hours being spent at the task, Jim and father spent the time catching up on their visiting.  My sister sat down to the piano to play and sing some of her prettiest music.  This we enjoyed while we talked and sewed.  My fingers itched to play, also , so later in the evening, when tired of sewing, I played a number of pretty hymns, while all gathered round for a few songs, then retiring for the night.  It seemed good to spend one more night at home, soon fast asleep, sleeping soundly undisturbed, until early morning, when we heard mother and father descend the stairs. 

                Jim arose, going out to water and feed Beauty.  Mother appeared at the bedroom door, saying.  “There is no need for you to get up yet as I am just getting the fire started.”  I lay for awhile longer, then dressed, putting my coat around me I went out into the chilly morning air, for the sun was just making its appearance from behind the mountain peak.  Mother’s chickens, turkeys and geese had all gathered in the yard waiting, as she came with her bucket of feed, reaching for the bucket, I asked if I might scatter it.  Handing it over to me, she went back in to prepare the breakfast.  Toby came dashing down the hillside, all wet from a hunting spree, shaking himself vigorously as he got opposite father and Jim.

                “You dirty dog.”  Father said and Toby knew he’d better beat it, finding a warm sunny place by the porch he lay down to rest his legs and dry off in a sulking manner, raising his head slightly to glance at us when we went in to breakfast.

                Jim was anxious to get home, so we did not tarry afterwards, Father and Jim tied the machine to the back of the buggy and we were off.  Toby came bounding behind from the house, followed a short ways, stopped, barked a time or two, then went back.  I was quite excited about having a machine and could hardly wait to try making things by myself.  First though, I cleaned out the middle dresser drawer, placing all the small garments, including the layette, and blankets we had ordered, and those mother had helped me make and after dinner, I made those mother helped me to cut out.  A few days later I hemmed the two dozen squares that would eventually become three cornered panties.  I was busy at it when Jim came in, saying he couldn’t find Jackie or Babe anyplace.  “I’ve ridden over the whole three hundred and twenty, but not a trace of them.”

                So, that afternoon, we drove down in the flats a ways, but didn’t even so much as see a range horse.  We stopped, asking the different ones we knew, finally going to Sublett to pick up the mail, asking those we saw there.  The next day Jim saddled up, riding most of that day and returned at evening without a trace, saying as he dismounted, “They seem to have vanished into obliteration. Well,” he said, settling into his chair to relax for a spell, “I am tied up for plowing , harrowing or disking without them but I can work on the fence.”  So, for several days he worked at setting more posts and stringing more wire and as I helped that afternoon, down in the canyon, where Shirley Creek runs under the fence and where the foot prints, the dug-in toe and hoof marks where they crawled under leaving brown hair and even some of their skin behind on the barbs.  Jim got down to take a close look, saying, “this is it and their tracks, reaching for the grass was one of the reasons, and along with the range horses.  We’ll just string extra wire and weights, too,”  Thus, we worked until shadows fell over the valley and the scream like cry of the night bird fell on our ears from some distance up the canyon, with the magpie’s taunting manner.

                The sage was heavy and big.  Our hands, as well as our clothing smelled of the unpleasant scent.  We walked, arm in arm up the hill to the house, stood thus watching the last of the sun drop from view for that day.  Going into the house, fixed a light lunch.  We were both tired, so an hour later found us snug in bed, and soon fast asleep.

                April, by midnight, would be gone, May with its hillsides of flowers, would welcome us at the dawn of a new day.  The sun rose to shine, but an hour or so later, clouds dimmed its brightness.  A slight roar of thunder broke the stillness, a sharp flash of lighting lit up the sky and at a distance we could see rain falling on the mountainsides, a wind filled with dust carrying particles of whatever it might pick up in its wake, swept the valley, the clouds became darker, as the storm heightened, more thunder and lightning streaking through the skies and with it the rain, like a sudden deluge, came pouring down, pelting hills and bench land alike, dashing down valley and ravines, just May, with her sudden shower, letting the world know she had arrived.

                The rain continued, refreshing the land, the grass and the flowers, amidst the falling rain, now and again a bird’s cheery note fell on our ears, welcoming the summer shower.  Soon it was running in rivulets into Shirley Creek below our home.  We stood in the door way with awe and wonder in our faces, enjoying the quick shower from clouds too heavy to carry it longer.  When the rain ceased at the end of the day and a heavy dampness lay over the valley and crystal like drops of water clung to bushes and small like trees, in the canyon, then the sun came out to give us one last fleeting glimpse of it before departing, le4aving the valley filled with the smell of the sage, as it glistened with the departing sun, bringing out the silver.  A huge rainbow in multi-colors circled the earth, giving us to know tomorrow would be a good day and well it was, for when we arose, the valley still moist, but the sun continued to climb higher and higher, as though it didn’t intend to be interrupted that day on the course of duty.  The rain had been wonderful for everything , especially our garden.

pages 288-289

Pages 288-289

                We had kept a steady vigil over our garden, and were rewarded some days later, when we beheld a miracle, which nature had performed with the seeds we had planted, walking among the rows could see the seeds coming to life, pushing their heads through the heavy plowed sod, row after row clear across the garden. “It’s getting a good start.”  Jim commented, and from then on, I loved to watch it grow and to tend it.  The results should be good I thought, as I went to the chicken house, to let the hens out for the day, moving toward where the nests were, heard the two hens clucking in a motherly fashion, opening both of their doors, saw the old hens, tenderly using their bills to push the fluffy balls of down that had hatched during the night, out around her so that those that were just hatching would have more protection.  Some of the eggs just popped, others cracked at least half the shell and there they lay, still wet, in half of their original places of abode, and another of God’s miracles had been performed, that of the little chick being hatched from the eggshell, right before my eyes, from life in the eggshell to a little “soft ball of feathery down.”  I patted each hen on the head, saying, “you’ve done well, and we have everything fixed for you.”  Closing the doors, I went back to take care of my own household tasks.

                When Jim came at noon, he said, “We’ll take the afternoon off, and go for the mail, the horses had quite a morning of it. I am sure they would like the rest.”

                “That’s fine by me, “ I said, as we sat down to our noon meal, first telling him of the little chicks, then returned thanks for our food and our many blessings.  We always counted as each day went by, for April by now was all but gone, and then the month of May, with the hillsides blooming profusely of the many and varied kinds of flowers, would be with us.

                Driving up the hill to the gate, a large herd of cattle, with two cowboys driving them, came down the section, filling the air with dust, heading for summer range in the mountain valleys and foothills, leaving the air filled with the dusty sage smell.  The gate opened and closed, we drove on, heading for Sublett and the post office, here we picked up two large packages, besides our letters and paper, and looking the packages over, noticed one was from Jim’s folks in Iowa, the other from a mail order house, a layette for our expected.  Putting them in the back of the buggy, we drove on west to visit some friends and neighbors.  These wonderful people never could make one welcome enough, and generous to a fault, when it came to loaning his farm machinery and equipment. Our mission was that of borrowing the white top or mountain hack, a spring wagon with brakes for mountain driving and a white canvas top, with two seats, front and back to make the trip to Rupert in to bring my sister and three son’s out to visit my folks and us.  Jim didn’t more than ask, when he replied, “Certainly” and when we offered to pau for it , “No,” he said, “I don’t charge my neighbors for the loan of things.”  A neighbor in that country was a neighbor no matter how many miles lay between them.  His wife set about to get supper, saying we just must stay.  We declined, saying we had chores and after some time of visiting, we left, bidding them goodbye, saying we wouldn’t be coming for the wagon for a few days.  “Well,” he replied, “it will be here, just help yourself.”

                Jim said, “When I get it, I’ll grease the axles, going and coming and take the best of care of it.”

                “That will be fine,” waving us on, he went in to the house, as we drove away.

                Beauty took on a little faster gait than usual, to our left , as we neared our place. A bunch of range horses, stopped their grazing to look in our direction, whinnying as they did so.  A pretty bunch, but we paid little attention, for range horses were a common sight, arrived at our gates to find Babe, a bay mare and Jackie, driving them back, Jim opened the gate, as I drove through.  The section filled with horse tracks gave evidence the bunch had been milling up and down the section.  We hadn’t more than gotten to the hitchrack when the bunch , in a cloud of dust came back.  Babe and Jackie, on a gallop went again to talk horse fashion over the barbed wires.  Jackie just naturally born to be inquisitive, was always getting into things.  He had run all his life until we bought him, with just such an outfit.  This made him homesick perhaps for the open range and his old life, and again, we decided we needed a good dog, with Toby around, one command and he would have driven them off.

                With our minds on other things, we went into the house and looking from the window later, discovered Beauty’s colt, Billy Fortune, had also joined Babe and Jackie.  Feeling the five barbed wires would keep them out and ours in, we ate supper, then retired to the living room to open the packages, a bit excited anyway as to what Jim’s folks had sent.  When it was finally opened , found a blanket and little clothes and goods to make others, saying as Jim opened the other package, we’d have to get mother’s machine to make some of the things I had planned to do for some time.  The layette we had ordered was very nice and other things mother had given us would have to be made.

pages 286-287

Pages 286-287

                As Beauty took to a steady trot, returning home over the long narrow road, we planned our garden.  He would plow it first thing in the morning and those precious garden seeds we had so tenderly fondled and admired when the winter winds blew, would at last be sown in the black rich soil.  So the next morning as Jim turned the never to be forgotten fertile ground that was to be our first garden, I read and re-read the directions on each temptingly pictured package.  There were radishes, string beans, turnips, lettuce, beets, ever-bearing dry farm peas.  Father had given us some corn and potato seed and also promised us some cabbage and tomato plants.  He had planted in boxes along in February and nursed them along to good sized plants.  They had their early garden all planted and by tomorrow we would have most of ours in.  He plowed and harrowed all of it that day.  The next morning we took sticks and strings to make straight rows.  Jim would use a hoe to make the little trenches, sowing each package of seed carefully.  When he had finished this, I had the potatoes cut, planting more of them than any thing else.  We awoke, happy people, about the middle of the night, to hear the rain beating against the window.  When we retired, not a cloud was to be seen in the sky.  We began to think we had been favored above all people, our garden all in, with a rain to soak and nourish the newly planted seed. 

                When morning came it was still raining.  Looking out the door, Jim said, “Now, isn’t that great, I just hope it keeps up for a week.”

                “Oh, no,” I said, our seeds would rot instead of coming up.”

                “I’ll take that chance,” he answered, closing the door.

                The wind had shifted a bit, causing the rain to blow in through the open door. About that time, I had stepped beside him, saying “Doesn’t the rain feel good.”  As it continued through the day, clearing up a bit toward evening, settling in again as the dark clouds, full of moisture, hung heavy over the drippy valley, when the shades of night drew the curtains of dusk, like a pall over all, much the same which kept us indoors for that day, giving us a chance to catch up on reading and the answering of neglected letters that had been stacked in a letter file, waiting for just such a time to answer them.

                The first thing Jim said upon sitting down to this task was, “Do you know we are just about out of ink, put it on your list.”  For in a country like this, neighbors were much too far to borrow from and one didn’t like making unnecessary trips so far to the store through neglect of keeping a pad or scrap of paper handy for jotting such items down, so it became a habit of mine.  The letter writing became an interesting affair.  I answered my sister’s letter, they would leave Portland, Oregon, sometime in May, coming to Rupert, where we would meet them, visiting with us , as well as our folks.  We were looking forward to this long awaited visit.

                The days seemed to slip past very fast, even with rain continuing its noisy pitapat against the window with the eaves dripping steadily.  But, when we sat thus, at the close of day, eating our evening meal, the rain ceased, as quietly as it had come and for a few fleeting moments, the sun broke through the heavily filled clouds , in its glory, to set clear, dropping behind the horizon like a ball of gold, denoting all would be clear the coming day.

                We were up early,  wondering if much could be done , but everywhere we looked, dampness held sway, pearl like drops glistened from the bushes, the eaves of buildings, fence posts and barbed wire and anything the dew-like drops could cling to, even the horses’ manes and hair carried the results of the storm, but the sun was doing its best to brighten the soaked world around us, all to the pleasure of the rancher and stockman for this would insure good grazing from the flats and foothills alike and a good crop for the rancher.  Any day now, herds of cattle, would be going down the section to summer pasture.  So we stood thus thinking.  When I said, “I know what let’s do, fix my baby chicken pen, it would’t be long now and if we expect to have fryers to eat, we’ll have to protect them from the coyotes, who would make short work of the hen while trying to protect her brood and each little chick.”  So, we fixed it on the south side of the chicken house.  Jim set four posts, then used one by six inch boards two foot high on three sides, then putting very wide extra heavy chicken wire around that.  By evening, the task was accomplished.  Next, we took two nice sized wooden boxes, cut holes in each end for doors and put one in each corner of the lot and fixed feeders and waterers.  We used a big old coffee mill which him had bought at a second hand store to crack or grind enough whole wheat for some time.  He said, “now you are all set.”  I said, “Isn’t it wonderful, all we have to do now is wait.”  We both laughed together.

               

page 284-285

Pages 284-285

                I watched until the last of them were up on the bench, and disappearing from view.  I turned to look, Beauty was hitched and tied to the rack and it was such a temptation to jump in and follow, when a thought came to me – you are not as free as you once were, you are married and very much co –and so giving a last glance toward the buggy, walked slowly toward the house.  One glance at the tubs beside the door gave me to know there were things other than housecleaning.  I put wood in the stove, filled the reservoir and also the wash boiler which I had place on the stove, from bucket after bucket I drew from the cistern beside the door,  Jim would carry it from the creek for me, and even draw it from the cistern if told ahead of time.  But , it was done and I was tired for once with the day scarcely begun.  I changed the bed linens, this done, I sat down with the pile of dirty clothes before me, then lying down as I supposed for just a minute, was soon fast asleep, waking an hour later with the fire completely out, but the water hot, and was much refreshed from my nap, placing the tubs on two chairs, with a rinse tub on a backless one, prepared to get the water ready and drawing more cold from the cistern, when Jim came back on horseback for some repairs, jumping off the horse, came over to where I was and wanting to know just why I was doing all of this.

                “Doing the washing is enough,” he said, turning, asked, “where is the boiler.”

I’ve already drawn and heated that, it’s in the tub, I was getting cold water to cool it down.”

                “Just why all the effort, are you trying to overdo?  I would have done all of this,“ he said.

                “I know you would,” I replied, breaking the water by sprinkling a little lye in it, and shoved the white clothes in, then put a bar of soap on top of the washboard, I began by rubbing the soaped clothes on the rough washboard.

                “I’d better stay here until this is done, just to make sure you won’t overdo.”

                “I’ll be alright, “ I answered, “now back to your horses and plowing, they could be all tangled up by now,” motioning him away.

                Calling back he said, “Now promise me,”

                “Ok,” I answered, but when he was out of sight, I worked a bit faster, knowing the breakfast dishes were still waiting, as well as the housework and Jim would be back for dinner.  The rest I had taken earlier had given me added energy, so leaving the white clothes soaking in the rinse water, I went out to wash the lines, looking up as I did so, stepped in a low-like hole unnoticed, throwing me forward.  Breaking my fall with my hand, I got to a sitting position and there I sat for some time until a neighbor came riding down the section line.  Getting to my feet, for fear he would stop to see if I was alright, I then went to the house, rinsed the white clothes, wringing each piece by hand, for few women in those days had washing machines or wringers, then hanging them out while the colored ones soaked, this being the pleasant part of it.  For I love to see a line of white clothes flapping in the breeze.  There were only a few colored ones so this was soon accomplished and they, too, were drying in the April sun.  Jim had said to leave the water set.  Although I disliked the sight of it I did as I was told, then went about doing the dishes and tidying up the house.  Hurriedly I prepared the dinner just in time, as Jim came up the hill with the six head of horses.

                They hadn’t more than come to a stop by the rack when Jackie let out his bray, voicing his dislike of harness and work, but he was born like most of his kind, for just that, and his dislikes counted little.  Jim tried not to overwork any of them and always curried the dusty sweat from their hair, giving a kindly pat on the hip, saying, “You did well today, now move on.”  Giving themselves a shake they would move over to the rack of feed, eating for awhile, then all would take off on a gallop hunting for tasty green grass along the foot hills or to get an extra cool drink from Shirley Creek.

                The days were sometimes long and tiresome in the collar and also for the man that rode the plow, for the air was always filled with the smell of the sage.  I never knew what it was for Jim to have the smell out of his clothes, except when he had on his good clothes, or freshly washed ones, for when he’d let the horses stop “to blow” they called it, he would tie up the lines on the lever of the plow, and then pull and pile brush that was left at the time of railing and racking, this being a headache for the heading crew, then too, the threshing men would make the air blue with their words, when some of it would accidentally get into the separator, so it was of little use  and much hated; and the land had to be cleared well before a crop was seeded and this Jim was trying to do, while letting the horses slack their tugs.  I have gone time and time again to watch this procedure even with the smell, even one’s home smelled of it, when you worked among it or used it as fuel, so you would eventually get used to it and think little of it, except to get the sage off, the sod turned and the new land to producing, this was the main thought of the homesteader.

It was real work in those days as one could readily understand, so to get away from it there were days we’d hitch Beauty to the buggy and head out, stopping to visit this or that neighbor, sometimes it was just left up to Beauty the way she would turn in at the nearest neighbor’s home and don’t think those folks didn’t enjoy having visitors as much as we liked visiting.  The door was opened and you were always welcome.  Jim would say as we entered. “Thought I’d let my horses have the afternoon off, they seemed a bit leg weary from harrowing the long rounds. “ He meant the full length of the big bench.  These neighbors always had something new they were working at, like a dress, curtains, or dishtowels, but most generally that time of year it would be freshly made garden, each row marked with this or that in the vegetable line, usually winding up by saying I had some seed over of this, wouldn’t you like to plant it and to make a neighbor feel good, you’d take the seeds, I told her I had to admit we had been planning our garden, but as yet just hadn’t gotten around to it. “We had,” I said, “the garden fever in February when we first sent for the seeds through a catalog”  Before we left, the man had to have Jim see what a nice job he was doing plowing his ground, and how well he had plowed and fixed his wife’s garden.  Of course, down in the flats they expected little of their gardens without rains, and there were times they would have a pretty fair gardens.  A good fence was the first thought, for jackrabbits cared little where they foraged and tender garden vegetables made a delicious dish for them even devouring and destroying parts of large wheat fields, but Jim and I had fenced our garden when there was little else to do.

pages 282-283

Pages 282-283

                While father and Jim sat down to talk in the living room, my sister came from the downstairs bedroom where she had been making a dress, she and mother were making for her.  It was very pretty and I said, “Who’s the lucky guy that’ll take you out with this on.”  Smiling, she said, “You’ll find out.”  Mother said, about that time, “Come and get it.”  I was ready and about the first to the table.  Mother poured the tea and all sat down.  Jim returned thanks and the food was passed, roast meat, good baked beans, fresh baked bread, mashed potatoes, butter, jam and rice pudding with raisins, all with that good home cooked flavor, as only mother could make it.  After supper and the dishes cleared away, the folks tried their best to persuade us to spend the night, but feeling we shouldn’t, bid them adieu, stepping out into the bright moonlight about ten o’clock and tucking the lap robe in tight, for the night air of the mountains was always chilly, and especially that time of year.

                 Gazing at the sky as we drove along, we could see a cloud now and again mar the face of the moon, but it was nice and the good visit with my folks was a heartfelt joy, as always.  Riding quietly along, having said nothing to each other, only thinking, when Jim put his arm around me, drawing me close, saying, “A penny for your thoughts.”

                “Well,” I replied, “guess they aren’t worth mentioning.”  He held me tighter until my head lay on his shoulder.  “Then, you must be cold?” he asked, “Nope,” I came back, “but this is a nice place to be held, in my husband’s strong loving embrace, it’s like being up in the clouds, I could go on living like this forever.”  “Well,” he said, “right now you’d better come back to earth, because I’ll have to open the gate, “ and there was Jackie coming on a gallop, stopping short in his tracks, as though he had to be on hand each time we came home, and then trotting behind the buggy like a puppy.

                I said to Jim, “Oh, that reminds me,”  and Jim pulling Beauty to a stop. “father said he thought we could get a puppy from some folks over by a place called Yale, said he had talked with the fellow a few days ago.  Well,” I said, getting out of the buggy, “maybe we can take the time,”  I ventured, “then, too, they could be gone, it’s been almost a week since father saw him and we’d have our drive for nothing.”  Going into the house I dismissed the subject.

                The house was cool, quite cool, the fire had been out since noon, so we hustled off to bed.  We had no need to worry about sleep, for the night air had done that, and was awakened early the next morning by our feathered friends, whistling, and singing, with the harsh squawk of the magpie in a querulous manner from the canyon.

                The dawn broke with a slight breeze.  The sun rose like a huge light, throwing its rays of gold over the valley. I went out to watch this spectacle as I had so often done and get a breath of clean fresh ozone, so exhilarating, filling one with awe and gladness of all he  beheld standing thus, I became chilly, folding my arms for warmth, started back to the house, when Jim came up the hill driving the horses.  They had gone off in search of grass, sometimes drifting to our extreme northeast line.  From our big bench that Jim was starting to plow, I turned to open the corral gate, then to head them in.  The smell of the sage was evident, so, I knew then that Jim had to go to the northeast line for the sage there had not been railed and from the looks, had chased them through the brush to turn them for home.  Now they were in the corral.  Jim could do the rest, I had spent much time out of doors and must hurry the breakfast, for he was usually hungry after so early a morning ride.  I had only gotten a glimpse of him when he ascended to the top of the hill, riding off on a gallop.  I knew he had gone, but just wanted a few minutes more of sleep.  When I heard that familiar sound, as he rode by the door, “I am going now,” and Beauty’s shod hoofs ascend the hill,  I arose quickly, put on my housecoat and out into the soft mellow sweet air to hear the wind murmur, with the sunrise of a new day welcoming spring.

                Hurrying in, I found the tea kettle merrily boiling away, stirred up a batch of pancakes, put on the coffee, set the table then dashed to the bedroom, put on my dress and back to fry the pancakes.  My fire had sadly died down, so replenishing it and did other things.  It was lucky for me, Jim took quite a while to feed and harness that morning.  Giving a glance, when I was ready to put on the cakes, I saw our neighbor east of us, sitting on his horse, talking to Jim, I thought , “Now I’ll be having breakfast already before he comes in, but knowing he liked his cakes hot, I waited until he started toward the house.

                “What did he want,”  I asked, putting more cakes on the griddle.

“Looking for a calf,” as usual, he said.  “I told him I hadn’t seen anything of it in my ride.  He then thought it may have gotten out another way, so rode off.  And, here I am – starved.”

                Well, fill up – it’s all before you.”  I said, figuring I had enough cakes cooked, poured the coffee, then sat down. 

                “How do you do it,” he asked, These cakes are great.”

                “Oh, you are just hungry,” I commented.

                “ You can say that again,” he answered, “I thought that neighbor would never go,, so I could come.  I enjoy his talks even though he is a bit long winded.”

                “Yes,” I said.  “a nice neighbor.”

                Talks do help out.” He said, then out he went, lining the horses out, riding the lead one, and was off to plow.

               

pages 280-281

Pages 280-281

                She soon had us seated.  It was a good dinner for she was a wonderful cook, but my mind was more on getting the hens set and I thought Jim would never stop talking, so we could get going.  The lady very kindly talked on, too, telling me just how to fix their nest and to have a little door, so the others couldn’t get in to lay with them or break the setting eggs.  I had learned that from my mother, though.  I was in the notion of saying  “Get up” to Beauty, or to give Jim a slight poke, but we were soon off, saying “Goodbye,” out of the lane and headed for home.

                We had been having a south wind for several days, but for some reason, it had switched around to the north and we would have to face it all the way home.  It seemed to get chillier as we drove along, tucking the lap robe in closer and pulling my coat around my neck I began to wonder if I was doing the right thing after all.

                Then, Jim said, “This feels like snow and here you are wanting to set hens.” It does seem a bit cold, ‘ I said. “but mother and those folks have some setting, why not?” To this, Jim slapped the lines on Beauty and we were heading for home much faster until we came to the winding rough sage brush road.

                “Slow down, “ I said.  “These eggs won’t hatch, they are getting shook up too much.”

                Then slowing down, slyly, Jim said, “you’d better be thinking about yourself, for I was thinking of you while I held Beauty in,” giving me a big smile.

                “I had forgotten about myself for the time being,” I replied.  “These eggs seemed more important.”

                At last, we were home, Jackie, as usual, brayed and came on a gallop to the gate, just to welcome us, then trotted behind the buggy to the rack.  I carefully carried the two settings of eggs to the house. Before Jim could get Beauty unhitched, with saw, hammer and nails, I was hunting around for small boards to make those doors.  Finding them, down by the chicken house where I went, Jim was following.

                “Now,” he said, “that’s a man’s job,” gladly turning it over to him, I went with a box in search of straw.  This accomplished, I fixed the two warmest nests.  Jim had the two doors on and we went back to the house to wait until night fell, then taking the lantern, and eggs walked slowly to the chicken house.  Jim held the lantern high, opening the nest doors, I put fifteen eggs in each carefully, then lifted the hens and placed them in the new nests.  They seemed happy, clucking, ruffling their feathers and with their bills gathered the eggs closely under them.  All was well, I thought, feeling quite pleased over our day’s work, and thinking in three weeks we would have some fluffy little chicks.  My next plans were to fix a place for the hens and chicks when the time rolled around, But we did not notice a furry like object a short ways away out of the rays of the light, until it lunged at me, almost grabbing my dress.  Jim jumped between us nearly hitting it with the swinging lantern, when it turned, fleeing down into the canyon and perhaps up the hill to the bench.  “He must have been really hungry,” Jim said, “for they seldom attack that way, they usually sneak around, getting their prey unawares, and most generally a small creature, rabbits, squirrels, new born calves, and colts, but will attack people, if cornered, or have rabies.”  To attack that way, Jim thought he might be sick with rabies.  As the days went by we heard no more about it, even though we had informed the different neighbors, until we heard a fellow down in the flats had shot what he thought was  rabid coyote.  It came in the yard snapping at his children.  He said it was a little early for that, but had every appearance of it.

                Now with the big bench cleared of the brush, Jim pulled his gang plow up to the west side, with two horses and lead the other horses up behind and then hitched on the six head.  Now this I had to see, the first furrow to be turned down through the long bench from West to East and little Jackie was one of them.  Jim had seen to it that he had a snug fitting pad and collar and had put him on the outside,  where it would be easier.  I was thrilled beyond words as I saw the horses and little Jackie, leaning into the collar,  was keeping his tugs tight, right along with the rest.  This being the first day of it, Jim only plowed for about six hours, three in the morning and three in the afternoon.  We were proud of that day, the horses plenty tired and ready to get out of harness, and as each was free, rolled to his own satisfaction and when it came Jackie’s turn, he looked all around, smelled the ground a time or two, then layed down to do his usual three times over.

                “He’s pretty particular,”  Jim said as we watched his antic, then currying the dust from his sweaty hair, Jim gave him a pat, saying, “You did alright, Jackie, looks like it was a little tough on those shoulders though, but they’ll get used to it, old boy.”  He shoved him away, saying “Go get your hay,”  I then feed the chickens, letting the two setting hens out to feed with the others, watching until they returned to their nest to fasten them in.  I was pleased that they hadn’t as yet broken any of their eggs,  It was almost a week now since we had set them and only three weeks for them to hatch.

                We had not been up to my folks for some time and I was getting a bit homesick, so since Beauty was hitched to the buggy, we took off.  It was a cool, but pleasant evening as we drove along, a quiet stillness reigned in the canyon and Shirley Creek running faster and fuller , gurgling and gushing along was music to our ears,.  The birds perched on the bushes above it tweeted and sang, then flitted away.  Father’s wheat was greening up nicely.  We could see the edge of it from the top of the hill and father also had been plowing in his garden. Toby, hearing the buggy, came tearing down the lane to meet us, wagging the white tip of his tail steadily as he bounded toward us, jumping at Beauty’s bridle bit, then at the buggy, and just as excited as though he wanted to tell the folks we were coming, took off like wings were attached to his feet.  The folks were out the door by now, looking for themselves.  The yard was full of mother’s geese, but Toby had no fear of them and they , instead of trying to fight him, scattered in all directions.  Making that gang, gang and honking noise.  We could smell mother’s good supper cooking and she said , as we went in, “It’s almost ready, we’ll just set some extra plates.