Monday Memoir, Sept 26, 1964

 September was flying by. Somehow the chores were not as onerous and I pulled mostly free of my chronic depression and doldrums for a time. Somehow I had been sprinkled with a peculiar fairy dust...

Sept 26, 1964, Sat

Up at 7:00 which is late for me. I fed and saddled to ride out. Annie and I hustled along. Of course no one was there to meet us but his ghost was. I came home on the Tuzigoot Road and picked up a bottle. When I got home, CCB was here. I watered and led Leo out along the road. Guess who passed me, honked and waved? A blue and white Fury! I was so surprised I nearly flipped. Saw old WGB (Blondie) and didn’t feel a thing. Oh Dusty, you have cured me of all but you! I led Chief up to the plant etc. Quit about 1:00 when I ran out of time. After lunch Charlie Mike and I walked to town and sold $1.00 worth of pop bottles. They have some cheap film up there which I’ll get some of on Monday I think. I took a shower and "dressed up” for the evening. I’ve really got to make it in the morning for sure. Go with Evelyn to church I mean, Will Dusty be back tomorrow afternoon?  When I think he might be leaving in two or three weeks I nearly die. Well, who knows what may happen by then. On August 26, I never dreamed that all this would. I’ve got to see him every chance I get though. I wish I knew one thing for sure--it’s just wishful thinking though. Oh Dusty, why did you make me fall in love with you?

The days from September 19 to the 26th had been rather pivital. On the 20th, Dusty did get back early and met me on the road headed for the pasture. I told him how to get there and he did. Of course Mom had also driven out and Charlie Mike and I introduced him is our friend. But as fate would have it,  she noticed his ring...and I guess it set off some alarms. At that point I was a bit concerned as well. Then on the 23rd I refused a date but said I'd be out at the pasture that evening and could use some help on my chores. He came and we talked...and talked...and talked.  Not long afterwards I did ask directly and he admitted to being married but spearated. Still, I think that evening was when I really fell in love. It felt like we were two dear old friends who had just reconnected and it was so hard to simply say goodbye and go, even if it was only for a few days or even hours. But as a result, I was late getting home and Dad met me on the road north of Tuzigoot. Although Dusty was never mentioned, things did not truly go well at home from then on. 

From that prior week on, I was never completely 'alone' at the pasture because memories, fragments of conversation and that sense of connection were always there too, reinforced as time went by. So now it was a few days later. I ws riding Annie at this point. I worked her and Prez a great deal and then occasionally added Trixie, Chipper and one or two others to give the two big mules some rest. I'd be hard put to say which was really my favorite. They all had good points and good days as well as some not-so-good ones.

Leo was the young Quarter Horse stud colt and exercise for him and for Chief were a priority. I led them almost every day for at  least half an hour each. I may have chatted a minute with Charley Bryant-(that is CCB; Clayton was his middle name).. Then I got the mail and started on my leading tasks. 

Needless to say I was very surprised to see Danny and his Fury. I guess he was down to spend time with Joyce and why he came over to Clarkdale I do not  know but he apparently did see Dusty about that time also though he was not coming back to Santa Fe, at least not then. WGB was my old nemesis "Blondie" of the  propane truck crew. He had fallen far below even Former Fancy status by now.  That was over, done, and case closed! (Good riddance as he was really NOT a "nice" guy.)

I had been trying to go to church with Evelyn for some time. It really did happen a few times and I enjoyed it. She went to the Baptist church at that time and the people there were nice but I was already drawing away from "Churchianity" as Charlie Mike later called it. Little of it resonated with me.as my personal deity was already visualized as female and from then on always would be. I truly could not imagine or picture a benign, caring and comfortable Father Figure at all.

Found pop bottles picked up on many rides were a main source of spending money for Charlie Mike and me. Refund was a few cents apiece for them--maybe 2 or 3? That was often all we had. It mostly mailed letters for me and got a few small things for him. Now and then we'd find a bunch left somewhere--a  happy windfall!

I did not yet know when B&B 6 would be finished with the rebuild of the Bittercreek Bridge and a few other jobs but expected their stay would not last too much longer. Where they would go next and for how long was unknown. My new connection was still far too fragile and unformed  to even hope that it might continue past that departure. Fortunately for me, they did not leave until early November so there were still days to build on what had begun but the road was precipitous, bumpy, fraught with detours and a few dead ends! 

A few mostly old photos:  The corrals at the pasture. Dusty parked in the bright clear spot to the right of the structure that evening, driving the tri-color Dodge.  Next Annie--the taller one under saddle. And finally Old Prez, with one of the heavier roping saddles used for leading.He wasn't old--maybe 5 or 6 at this time but he seemed 'old' being big and steady.

 

Another "Bridge" for the fall 1964 era.

           Kinda long but bear with me!! I know some of you will be having a few questions and concerns as the story begins to develop. They echo some of my own that I express or at least hint at in the journal entries. I am not trying to exonerate myself because that is probably not possible but I also do not want anyone to draw the type of conclusions my parents did which were pretty harssh and damning. There were many extenuating facts to balance the imperfect aspects. In essence, this is what existed on say September 19, 1964 and into the future:

When Dusty and I met, his marriage of about eighteen years was irrevocably broken and he was essentially living apart though trying to keep regular contact with his children, especially his son, then eight. He later told me that had he not met me when he did, he would have been with some of his crew that got into serious trouble (drinking, fights etc.) and were all fired by AT&SF and very likely would be single despite everything once he became jobless. He had reached the point of giving up, merely existing one day at a time as he kept slogging along. Why even seek a reason to try? He felt he had no one to look up to or strive for, nothing that ‘mattered’ beyond a hope to keep contact with his young son and earn the child’s respect, which the boy’s mother strove constantly to destroy. The teenage daughter was already basically alienated.

His wife was a devout Catholic and absolutely refused to consider divorce, saying she would take the boy and disappear if he ever filed. Yet she really did not want him to be a big part of her life or that of the kids--except pay the bills. She also did not believe in birth control but wanted no more children, so they had not been intimate for some time. When he went “home” on a number of weekends, he stayed in his son’s room. 

It was complex and slow to achieve, but he finally did arrange a legal separation agreement with some peculiar caveats to let him stay in contact and spend time with his son as it was not “a divorce” to her. He kept them on his insurance and paid substantial support under that agreement. In time, once the boy was older, perhaps he could go ahead and complete the break if there was a reason. The first germ of the idea had been planted, no more than a tentative plan when we met.

He was miserable as conditions were and never expected to consider another marriage or be more than superficially attracted to or involved with anyone. He said he felt he was too old for that sort of thing. (He was 41 at the time.) I only came to learn all of this gradually over a number of months though he did tell me early on when I asked directly that he was separated though still legally married. For the first year, he continued to wear the plain gold ring which no longer had any meaning. An injured knuckle made it nearly impossible to take off the ring. It was also a small safety token to ward off the railroad and construction groupies. There were plenty, and he wanted no part of them. I was never one, which he soon recognized.

For several months we never did anything but talk, essentially simply as friends. The attraction and emotions were soon growing but never overtly expressed. We were both lonely and struggling with difficult and complicated personal situations which we could not resolve in a quick, painless or simple way. We did both need a friend, a real non-critical and trusted friend, who cared about us when most of the world seemed harsh and cold.

Before long, Dusty admitted he would have bet a week’s pay I would not accept his ‘dates’ from the first and he would have been disappointed if I had because he already knew I was not one of those groupies or local floozies. He said he just wanted some company like to see a movie but I still refused. Instead of going out, I told him how to reach the pasture and he soon came there often and saw the work I had to do and grew to understand at least part of my troubled life. 

In some ways he may have set me on a pedestle just as I made him my real "handsome hero" as our friendship grew. His support and care was more valuable the next two years than I could ever explain. More than once he kept me from some sort of self-destruction and eventually helped steer me toward leaving home and starting college. For now I will leave the ending which finally came in 1971. 

Unfortunately, all my parents would ever believe was that he was married and cheating on his wife and I was abetting. I could never really explain it in a way they would accept. I became a ‘scarlet woman’ and a ‘home wrecker’ to their view and caught a great deal of harsh criticism and both overt and covert abuse, especially from my father. Factor in the emotional incest situation to realize how ugly this could get. To Dad, his "vestal virgin princess" was committing The Ultimate Sin, so no punishment was really adequate, however harsh or brutal.

One vicious trick (occurred later but as an example of what I endured): . Mom and I got home from the pasture and came in to rest a minute. Almost gleefully, Dad began to relate what he had (allegedly) just heard on the radio. A Santa Fe employee had a domestic violence issue in Kingman, perhaps Sunday, to which the cops were called. The man shot at one cop and took two bullets himself, dying on the spot. I knew to the roots of my soul that was a blatant lie but it still began to chew at me. I went on about my business with almost no response.  I hung on grimly until Charlie Mike got home from school and as we saddled up, I told him. He went up town with me and I called Prescott. B&B 6 and its foreman were there, and the man I spoke to said he would give Mr Watt my message. I made it something innocuous, going weak with relief. I had not and could not believe it but had still pictured him dead. The senseless and blatant cruelty of that incident was something I can never forgive. I don’t recall any reaction from Mom at all and we never spoke of it. 

So, judge me as you will. Even then "celebrities" were allowed whatever leeway they chose to take in their life and loves but I was not a movie or a rock star, not yet even a published writer so the old tradtional values were the yardstick I was supposed to meet.  And I did fall short when that gauge was applied.

This photo is of course many years later, actually in 2017. But that bridge in the middle right is Bridge #35, or one of the biggest ones on the Clarkdale branch, over the notorious SOB Canyon. Dusty's B&B 6 crew did work on it at times as well as most of the others between Clarkdale and Perkinsville. Pic just included so there is something besides text  here!

Monday Memoir, Sept 19, 1964

 September 1964 was a month of drama and changes and trying to find myself or get grounded again.  "Dusty" became part of my life and remained there for a number of years. Our story did not have a happy ending but since as the Irish say "It will be all right in the end. If it is not all right, it is not the end." I have always called our tale The Unfinished Story. Perhaps it will continue somewhere or somewhen else.

Sept 19, 1964

I got up and made myself go out and do my chores. It wasn’t easy though. We drove out and got back about 10:00. No trouble at least. I was late but went right to work. Leading Chief across the river, I saw B&B 6's supplies come and an extra bunk car too. More workers coming in? Rode past; Jim W was home but I didn’t stop. It would be betraying “Dusty” to ask someone else about him, let him tell me himself. I led everyone some today since we’re going to work on Red tomorrow. Ship him out Monday if possible. I got my chores done at 1:30. After lunch Charlie Mike and I hiked up past the camp cars and up to the old dump. Tony and a new guy were there with Jim, so we didn’t stop. Too soon it was chore time. We managed all that uneventfully. After supper (tamales) I wrote to Art and fretted. Yes, that’s write. Darn, it’s silly; C asked me to go out the first day after Dan left. Said he had looked for me the day before too. Wild, no? Wonder why? I hadn’t paid a bit of attention to him really. I guess he was here when I asked about Dan’s car. Then he stayed over one weekend in May or June and had some visitors.  And I recall that he looked at me hard that day. Then I don’t remember anything about him 'til that day the folks went to Flag. (Aug  19)  He sure looked me over that day. Of course I was asking for it. He said “Don’t go away mad” and a few other things. That was the day before they pulled out. As I talked to him, his cold blue eyes never left me a minute. Why I took a dislike to him then or earlier I don’t know. No reason, really. Then I hadn’t seen him any more 'til the day I talked to the T-bird guy. I was still disgusted; the next day he waved at me and all that time I wanted to see Danny. And then that fatal Friday and suddenly it was different. And then… And then…And now I can’t wait to see him again. I’m about the craziest. If I though I’d goofed with Danny…but I think he has taken it as a challenge --like when I said he bugged me in Dan’s note etc. And I gave him stare for stare at the bridge.  It’s been there between us all the time--he was challenging me with  his eyes, with his thoughts. Wants me because I’m different etc. I guess.   Well, even if it kills me I’m going to make him come to me next week. I’d better. I’ve got to lay down the challenge to him now. Does he want me that much? This afternoon I suddenly "saw" him lying in sand, face down, wearing plaid swimming trunks and a kid was pouring sand on his back. ESP?? I have to ask him Will he hunt me on Monday? I can’t wait to find out but I'll keep away from that damn bridge. I will.

Yes, I was in a dither and floundering right at this point, very confused with a number of unanswered questions. In the next week or so a few incidents occurred that clarified much and soon rather set the new connection solidly.  Sometimes fate, destiny or some Power Beyond pulls strings and makes odd things happen. 

Okay--Jim W and Tony were some guys on the gang that Charlie Mike and I had met. The dump I mention was up Bitter Creek past the old warehouse and I think is not accessible now but then it was. There was a lot of sun colored glass buried in it and we dug out a trove of pieces, even many whole and unbroken items, and lugged them home. I'd been fascinated with sun colored old glass for a long while and found this really neat. 

For those who may not be familiar with this mainly southwestern phenomenon, let me explain. Back in the late 1800s and early 1900s, glass was made with certain chemicals and content that reacted to the strong southwestern sun so that many pieces turned various shades of purple from pale lavender to a deep royal hue. Some also turned yellow or golden but this was more rare. Many old mine camps and ghost towns had "buried treasure" of this kind and people have collected it over the years. It is thus hard to find now but one can luck out at times still.

In a recent converation when Dusty asked me to go to the movie, I had said maybe Friday, knowing he would not be there since they quit at noon on Friday (four nine hour days and one four) so everyone could go home or out to party. He lived in Kingman and said he'd be "swimming in the Colorado River that evening." Maybe that triggered my brief vision.  This sort of thing was not uncommon but what it meant or indicated I have no idea.

Who was Art? I am assuming a pen pal but not a significant one since I get no mental image at all! I guess Charlie Mike and I could have gone out wandering that evening--until our 10:00 curfew!-- but apparently we did not. He was in 8th grade this year. 

Photos: First is Clarkdale-- not my photo--but the dump is/was just out of the frame on the lower left on the edge of the canyon. The next is the rail yard about 1964-65. The track used of the work trains is empty and beside the dark buildings, above the road bridge. Finally three pieces of sun colored glass that I still have. Much of my collection was lost and broken and I still have some more packed away which I hesitate to try to unpack but these show what it looks like. They all now sit on a chest of drawers in the "Red Dog Room."

Memoir Monday, Sept 12, 1964

 

So this was the second trip, just one day between them. In so many ways this pair of journeys felt like a beginning and an end. The trips themselves really were not but my memory tends to place them that way. Several weeks at this point were a transition of sorts.

Sep 12, 1964a

The day began at 5:30 and to small avail methought. We loaded up and went out to the pasture about 7:30. The fillies were ornery but we finally got them loaded. We did the chores and came home to change and finish loading and finally about 10:00, we left and rolled. The fillies rode well. We hit the highline at Flag about 11:30. “Danny’s road” I said to myself, but I didn’t see him. I saw lots of trains and the division offices in Winslow but no Danny so I thought of Charlie. (Charlie W, the B&B 6 foreman.) The country over near the NM border is pretty. I really like it but it’s mostly Indian reservation. We hit Gallup about 4:30 and got out to William’s ranch about 5:00. Only one guy was there, a cowboy who used to drive the big Suburban Propane trucks over here. We unloaded the fillies without benefit of a chute and then had to load our new stock. They are plain pretty, all of them. I was real pleased with their appearance. The colt is a doll and the yearling filly beautiful. The buckskin mare looks like Annie Gann only better. We looked at Peavy Bimbo and Tomichi HanDBob who are both great big magnificent looking horses. Chief is really prettier but they are powerful and classy. We left about 6:00. I didn’t think we could possibly make it all the way home but we did. It was a long day’s journey into night though. Back through Holbrook and Winslow it seemed endless. Lights, lights and more lights, bumps and jars, sitting tight and staring like a zombie down the black ribbon. I don’t envy truck drivers much. We pulled into Flagstaff about 11:30. I ran in to get some Dairy Queens and tripped over a curb on my way out and dropped them. I took an awful spill. Dropped the cones and should have gone back for more but I was too shaken and trashed. The fall shook and hurt me  and I was so tired. We got home at 1:00 or so and woke up Charlie Mike to come and help us unload. They were awfully tired and glad to get on solid earth again. Finally a bit before 2:00 we fell into bed, me with a bruised knee, hip and elbow and Charlie W still on my mind.  Damn you, C.D. Watt, why did you have to leave me with another problem? And I don’t have sense enough to hide from you. Well, I’m free, white and twenty one, no? No more trips now, thanks.

The fillies were two of the young Quarter Horses we had acquired the previous year, now two-year-olds. They still seemd young compared to Tina and some of the others. The two were Happy and Jolly, mentioned before. They were to be bred to one of the two dual-registered Quarter/Appaloosa studs Mr Williams had.  Dad had met him at the summer Appaloose show in Flagstaff and later gone over to Gallup to firm up a deal. The trip had been postponed a bit but was finally made.

I was still a bit in shock from the accident witnessed on the 10th. Since the AT&SF main line closely parallels Highway 66/I-40 from Flagstaff to Gallup, the tracks were rarely out of sight. For distraction, I watched for trains and noted any interesting things for Charlie Mike who had stayed home to do chores there.

The new stock we got were Peppy, a stout dark sorrel mare, almost Hereford red. She was supposed to be in foal but lost it a month or so later. However she had a colt by Chief in 1966. With her was her not-yet-weened last colt, a six month old who looked a lot like her. He was named DingBob but we called him "Dingbat". He was actually a pretty good colt though. Then there was Bunny, a buckskin mare, in foal to HanDBob. There was also a dark dun yearling filly, Becky Sue. Oddy I can hardly remember her at all, not even where or when we sold or traded her but we did not have her long. The others were there until I was gone though.

I took a bad fall there at the DQ. I tripped over a curb or a parking barrier and fell like a rock. Actually that was the only bad thing about this trip although it was long and exhausting. Trips were generally exciting and a break in the dull routine but I was ready to leave that alone for awhile.

Though not the catalyst in reality, these two trips marked a transition for me, an end to the rather pointless pursuit of Danny and an almost abrupt change to someone else who came into my life and made a large impact there that lasted a long time; in some ways I'd say forever, since I have not ever forgotten.

Pictures. Horses of course since they were such a major aspect of life at this time.  They will appear off and on for the next two years. The first is Peppy and Bunny, behind Pep at the feedbox. Next is Charlie Mike holding Ding Bob, now weened and getting some preliminary training the next spring. Last is Bunny with her colt who I named Dusty. He was born in the spring of 1965 also.

September trips--a bridge or a kind of an introduction

 September 1964, mostly about Sept 10, 11 and then 14.

This is taken from my Shoving Smoke memoir which was often built from my journal entries. Keeps me honest or fairly accurate!

***September came, still with a definite summery feel. I was half-heartedly pursuing Danny and trying to convince myself he was what I wanted.  At least it served as a romance fix of sorts, the first ‘crush’ I had managed in some time. Actually, it was not going well as I was still mostly too shy but just to pass the time, I carried it on. I had noticed foreman Charlie by then but on September 8 opined he was just another cheap flirt, too much like my bad mistake, “Blondie”, and said he bugged me.

Then on September 10 we made an inauspicious trip, loading Trinket, JB, Jennifur Junior (aka JJ) and her colt, Pete into Big Green, our name for the big F700 truck. They were going to a dealer in Phoenix. I am not sure now if it was Harrelson or some other guy. Going down the now semi-complete I-17 freeway, we came around a curve and upon the scene of a very recent accident. A clearly side-swiped pickup, possibly a state vehicle, was off to one side and there was an object—maybe a log or long box?--laying in the road. I think just past the pickup there was a semi, probably also involved. The accident happened on the northbound lanes and we were going south. We saw a state patrol car arrive as we approached the scene so we did not stop. One quick look in passing revealed the object in the road was a work pants leg and a boot—with a man’s severed limb inside them. The details now are very vague for it was one of those truly horrible things your brain tries to erase or at least hide in a very dark corner. The nightmare quality haunted me a long time.

Finally in Phoenix, when we went to unload the animals, poor little Pete got confused and did not start down the ramp. One of the men there shoved him off so he fell from the truck bed height. That made me even sicker. The little burro did get up but it was clear he was hurt. To top it off, we took in trade a dark chestnut mare, one worse than worthless in the long run. We named her Scarlet. She seemed fairly docile but was not to be trusted as we later learned.  At any rate that was a terrible trip with no redeeming qualities.

           The whole horror story was fresh in my mind the next day when I was back riding and exercising as usual. I wanted to see Danny and tell him to be careful. I knew he was a kind of crazy driver like many car-mad young guys are. It seemed very urgent to warn him. However, I learned he had just quit and was no longer on the gang. Instead, another car, a tri-colored Dodge sedan, came out and intercepted me along the road to the depot. Someone else got to hear the tale and he was properly shocked. Yes, it was none other than Charlie, the foreman. We talked a few minutes, mostly fairly casually. He did ask me to go to the movie and I declined but he was really not flirting or even looking at me in “that way.” There was appreciation and interest but no leer. I asked him why me and he said "I know you." to which I said he knew I was the girl who rode the mules--some recommendation. As he drove off he said "Anyone who loves anuimals can't be all bad." So... Maybe he is not the return of Blondie in a new form after all. Could such a thing be real, and if so, where did this leave me? ***

Then the next day,we took the trip I report for that date. And then it was September 14:

    ***Two days later, I registered to vote, thrilled I would have a voice in the coming election. Dad, being pretty liberal, was very contemptuous of and much against Goldwater and his John Bircher supporters. Of course—remember the enmeshed family matter--I went along with his take and knew I would be voting for LBJ. I even made a little round sign which I pinned to my hat. It showed a stable shovel crossed by the words, “Bury Goldwater.”  It got some comments, of course, mostly positive.

That day I admitted in my journal I was ‘teetering on the edge’ as far as Charlie W was concerned. I still had doubts he was not really just an older copy of the young and restless sort of guy I had no use for anymore but those very blue eyes got to me. I always had a soft spot for blue eyes!  Then too, his words were always calm, sensible and seemed sincere. In retrospect, I suspect I’d felt the energy of his interest over the past several months as they came and went until it actually took shape in my awareness. During the next couple of weeks we talked several times and I was soon captivated. I christened him “Dusty” (since the name 'Charlie' was far too common) and began to realize this attraction was truly mutual and very different from my old games. It took two years but our first real talk was the initial catalyst for one of the larger changes in my life.  Without it, I doubt I would have ever managed to "escape." I had gained an odd but special new "guardian angel." ***

Two pix--Charlie Mike on Prez but the shot shows most of the Ford F700 that was used in the trips described. Next is the Tri-color  Dodge and the first picture I took of "Dusty," probably near the end of September. It was rare to get him bare-headed--he usually had his white hard hat or a cowboy hat on! I later found I had a fingerprint on the lens and a whole roll of pictures came out fuzzy!

Monday Memoir, Sept 5, 1964

I was trying too hard, both to pretend and to convince myself that I was doing what I needed and really  wanted to do when it came to the guy Danny. In reality it was simply spinning wheels in sand for a bit but maybe that was required to break the inertia and turn off onto a new direction before long. I was  perpetually tired, bored, stuck and feeling like in reality I was getting nowhere fast--in any and everything.

Sep 5, 1964

Got up and off to an unbelievable late start today. It was 7:00! Got off to the pasture before 8:30 though and was home by 10:00. I led Chief around , just checkin’ like and nobody was home. Led Bravo and worked on him some. He sure is smart and willing. Leo was a bit ornery. Dad want to the dentist and found he has trench mouth.  Alex Fields has cancer so he went up to talk to him awhile. I took me a nap after lunch and just loafed. I really was tired though. I can’t get over yesterday. I’m beginning to think that I just dreamed it but I didn’t. This is a step for me--I’m going to get me a man.  I’m going to do every darn thing I can and if I’m still unkissed when “Danny’s gone" again it won’t be my fault.  So there. We did our evening chores and all drove out to the pasture. Little Powwow is doing fine--so sassy. Charlie Mike and I went up to swing before supper and paid the camp cars a visit but no one was there. Wonder where someone is tonight? I dare not guess. After supper, Charlie Mike glued model cars and I wrote a letter or two of small importance. I am going to go take a shower and then to bed to dream of a slim lean golden haired guy--maybe.

The day before I had actually talked to Danny for awhile  and built on my brief infatuaton, still plotting to ride in that Fury and kick up my heels a bit after days and weeks of trudgery* that had become much too familiar and tedious. I still loved the animals and in part did enjoy working with them and prided myself in the accomplshments that came in slow steps while training and caring for them but I was so tired of living as if I were fifteen instead of twenty one. 

*Trudgery was a word Alex and I coined years later as we were cleaning up our folks' stuff and doing yard sales etc. We put trudging (slow, weary walking) and drudgery (hard, tedious work) work into one concept. i think it is a great picture!

Bravo was the son of my mare Tina and I was very proud of him. Though Chief was his sire, he was so much like her which made him special. He just lacked her white markings except for a tiny star on his forehead. He was very smart and generally willing to do whatever I asked of him although he was barely six months old and recently weaned. Little Powwow was the paint mare Susie's new foal sired by Chief and the first one born Appaloosa colored. She was born on September 3, so was still very new. 

Alex Fields was a long term friend and hunting buddy of Dad's.When the Jerome mines closed, I think he had transferred to Ajo. He had recently retired and come back to the Verde Valley only to learn he had cancer and his time was getting shorter. I think he and Helen, his wife, had come back to Jerome, but I am not sure. He was also friendly with Dr Joe Pecharich, our family dentist.

As always I was tired. Of course a lot of that was mental--a result of being discouraged and depressed,  but then I did put in fairly long hours most days. Even in early September it was still hot and the afternoons were a reasonable time for a siesta. The evenings after supper were about the only free time--and actual freedom--Charlie Mike and I had. He was twelve, and would be thirteen in November but the restrictions we both lived with were about the same. Still we could go out and wander where we pleased in the evening and did so most of the time. So long as we did not seem to get into any trouble and were home by about 10:00 few questions were asked. Yes, we did cherish that bit of freedom and took all the advantage of it we could..

Charlie Mike had begun a  hobby of model cars  which were kind of a fad then. At this point I think he had an Edsel and maybe a couple of others. Sometimes I heped him with them a little bit. I was down to just a few pen pals now but still worked fitfully on writing fiction.That filled any time after we came in until bedtime

Again, a few pictures. Horses--since they were the main focus of about 90% of my life in this era. The first one is Charlie Mike holding Bravo  and this was about the time covered here. Next I have Bravo,  a bit later in the fall. The last is Powwow with her mama, only a few days old. She was still just a baby.