ATY pages 154-156

Pages 154-156

                A fog like mist had settled over the valley that put a fall chill in the air.  As we drove by the garden father said, “If this keeps up we’ll soon have to pull our tomato vines and hang them in the cellar.”

                The next morning the fog had lifted and a bright September sun arouse from behind the mountain peaks.  The frogs and “katy-dids” kept up a ceaseless chatter as they had all summer, disturbing the quietness of the valley.  Father took his gun and went down along Shirley creek bringing back three young cottontails.  After cleaning them he gave them to mother.  She soaked them in a pan of water with salt in it.  Then she proceeded to make a dressing as you would for turkey or chicken.  She stuffed them and tied them so the dressing would stay in.  Then put them in a roasting pan and slipped them in a hot oven.  She turned them ever so often.  By supper time they were a golden brown and a dish fit for the most elite.  I made a wild currant pie  which also was delicious.  Sister prepared a tomato pudding, a layer of bread crumbs, a layer of tomatoes, then sprinkled with sugar, salt, pepper, dash of cinnamon with small lumps of butter dotted over each layer.  This was done until the small dish was full, then put in the oven to bake.  Later a friend of hers came in so he enjoyed the supper along with us.

                That evening father talked of his plans to go to Rupert for winter supplies of groceries.  “Y es!” said mother,  “What about the turkeys? They will more than be ready for the Thanksgiving market.”  I could hardly believe how big they had grown.  So around the fifteenth of the month father took off on morning for Rupert.

                He returned two days later with a hundred pounds of sugar, twelve sacks of flour and all the other groceries.  And an order for all the turkeys and geese Mom had to sell.  This made mother feel very good.

                That evening Jim and I drove to Sublett for the mail and in among it was a dainty little announcement card.  No one had to open it to guess its contents.  Mother opened and read it.  Thus , born on September the eighth, nineteen hundred and thirteen, a boy answering to the name of Thomas Twitchel, F. (Felton) Then we all had to take turns reading it and also the letter my sister, Sallie, had enclosed with it.  Father was worrying little about it for he had settled himself with his newspapers.  They were still in Portland, Oregon but had plans of visiting us next May when they planned to sell their place and return to their Montana ranch.  We were all happy about the thought of seeing them.

                Father continued to read on while mother sat down to do some mending.  She always seemed to want something to do and her hands were seldom idle.  And too, always so cheerful for everything she did seemed to give her pleasure like the turkeys and the miles she traveled taking care of them but I never saw her look healthier.

                Sister sat down to play the piano so Jim and I sang along with her and her friend on a number of pretty songs.  When finally he thought he should be going, mother thought it bedtime too.  She told him goodnight and went upstairs.  Sister went to the door with him.  As he left we could hear the clatter of the horse’s hoofs leaving the lane and fading away in the distance.  Then she too retired.

                Jim and I sat talking, wondering just what to do.  Mother and father wanted us to have a nice wedding right a t home as they had done for my sister, Sallie..  They wanted to invite all the neighbors but we knew that would make a lot of work for mother and we didn’t care for that kind of wedding.  We’d rather slip away to some town be married quietly.  We figured that would save a lot of bother and worry.

                Now that the canning was done and our home ready we began to make plans.  The next morning at breakfast we told our plans and asked what they thought if we just drove to Albion some day and had the Methodist minister marry us.  They still thought that was fine but they’d rather fix something nice for us at home.  We said we knew that but we thought it best this way.  Well mother said O.K. then she went out to take her turkeys out down the canyon.  Father hitched the horses to go to the hills for more wood.

                Jim hitched up his team and went to our ranch.  Wilhelmina and I cleaned up the breakfast dishes, swept and straightened up the house.  This was  another of those lovely Indian summer days in this beautiful valley and I didn’t intend letting it get by without a stroll. 

                With Toby at my heels I started out for the hill that had always challenged me.  I climbed to the top the hard way.  I’d stop to rest at intervals for it was almost a straight up climb the way the man tried coming down the morning the twins were born with his black team of horses and when we looked up the horses looked like they were almost standing on their heads but I guess he was beside himself for his sick wife.  We never did hear anymore about it so we figured she must have gotten well.

                Toby was busy hunting around a sage brush while I paused and meditated.  I soon saw he had scared out a ground squirrel for he went squealing and chattering down the hillside scared out of his wits with Toby after him.  “Come Toby,” I said.  “You have done enough damage.   We are not stopping here.”   He dashed back with the white tip of tail high and his tongue hanging out in an almost laughing look.  He stopped dead at my feet.  Pulling his ear a bit, I said, “Come now.”  So on we went up the steep side of the hill.  On top of this hill was father’s bench of wheat.  I didn’t go trespassing over it as I had, for the Wheat was already coming up.

                Toby went dashing across it after a bird.  I called him down, telling him to walk back nicely.  He was tearing up wheat with his big feet.  To my surprise he walked back with his head down as thought he had committed an offence.

                Reaching the top of the hill I put my field glasses on to take another look at the country side.  I could see Jim on our bench burning the rows and rows of sage brush he had raked after the rail had torn it loose last spring and summer.  The team was tied close by.  He said he would haul some of the bigger stuff down by the house for fuel.  It was a bit messy, but burned extra good because of the grease or oil in it.

                My brother and wife had walked up on their bench looking to see how their wheat was coming up and right then I knew they felt pretty proud.  I could see them walking with arms around each other.  She had begun to feel better about this country.  Their cellar was full of good things for the winter too and wood pile also replenished.  Brother was planning a trip to Rupert for winter groceries.  I guess they must have left the baby asleep for soon I saw two more smaller figures climbing up the road and run across to their parents.  They were jumping up and down like a couple of colts turned out to pasture.  Soon they came bounding down again running around the house as though they were playing tag and then on the fly down to grandma’s, their parents coming down, in the house they all went.

                Sister was out by the corral petting Billy Fortune.  Then she walked on down the canyon where mother was with the turkeys.  They stood there talking for sometime while Toby and I walked on up a little farther.  From this point of view I could see the countryside in general a threshing machine threshing grain.  We had had some rain and that had held them back.  It soon too would be round up time again.

                Making my way down while Toby tagged along, two cowboys rode by as we neared the house.  I did not know them.  They went on up to the branding corral, probably getting ready for the fall round up.

                Wilhelmina and mother were driving the turkeys back.  They stopped for awhile to talk before riding on and rode their horses out of range of the turkeys to prevent scaring them.  I waited in the yard to help pen them. About the same time  father came down the road with his load of wood.  Mother waved her hand for him to slow up so he stopped the team until they could get the turkeys almost to the house.  Then he came along slowly.  Soon we had them in the pen.  Father drove on into the yard and up to the wood pile.   Brother came down to help him unload.  Their talk was of the wheat.  As I went on into the house.  I knew then homesteading had taken on a bright look for everyone.