Memoir Monday, Jan 30, 1965

 Time to travel again back 58 years. This was not a real exciting day back then but apparently nice weather and a fairly calm and ordinary day. Getting a good 'family' kind of ride was a bonus that did not come along every day. Charlie Mike was now 13 and starting to learn as I had some years before and even got interested to some extent so it was not all just onerous 'chores'. 

Jan 30, 1965 Sat

            Got up late and hurried all day long to repay the ‘debt.’ Serves me right. I rode out to feed, went by to check on the herd and rode on to June’s to pick up Tina. She was glad to see me and come home. Dear old girl. I love her so. Got Chief and the two ponies led before lunch. I ate hastily and went right out to saddle Buzz and Leo for a ride. Charlie Mike rode Prez, Dad rode Leo and I rode Buzz. We went up past the plant on the old roadbed. It was a real nice ride. I’m so proud of Buzz. She walks out so nice, a flat walk, but I can improve on that. Charlie Mike rode Prez free and had a good time. I think. the kids are all getting crazy about horses and that is affecting Charlie Mike.  We got done with the evening chores rather late. It sure felt good to come in. I played records tonight, wrote Shirl, refurbished my camera bag and made a Valentine for Dusty. I miss him so. It’s 11:00 pm now so I’ve got to go. Maybe I’ll dream about someone tonight. Don’t know what we’ll do tomorrow and dare not even try to guess. Work, doubtless. Well, Monday and mail will come quicker that way.

I was pretty strict with myself mostly as I took my job, being a cowboy girl,  fairly seriously. Often I was the first one up although Mom did beat me at times. The first task was feeding the stock there at Clarkdale in the canyon corrals, almost always done before breakfast.

I had spaced out that Tina was over at Dead Horse Ranch. Well, she was in one photo that I shared recently when I was riding with June Parsons. By now she was well along with her second colt who arrived not quite three full months later. It was  always a little odd to see her pregnant and heavier than her normal lean Thoroughbred style appearance. She and I had a very special bond--she knew her name and my voice and would usually come to me even if I did not have a feedbag which was necesary to bribe many of the horses and mules to come and be caught. 

I guess because he was a stallion, Dad felt he should ride Leo. He did some for awhile but it turned out his weight with the big stock saddle he used was pretty hard on the still-young horse and he'd get swollen joints so before long I was riding him the most. That horse had the nicest disposition and was almost uniformly sweet. He acted up very rarely. 

Buzzie was, of course, my pet and baby. I was the only one who ever rode her until she was, in my opinion, totally trained and almost foolproof.  Then Charlie Mike did some and perhaps a friend or two. The next year when Dad, I think mostly just being nasty-mean to me, derided her as a worthless kid-broke horse that I had spoiled and ruined, I was really hurt and mad. What a crock of fertilizer! She was not that at all but a very tractable and well behaved mare. So now I can blow a raspberry and know what I know.

Anyway we rode up in the hills under Jerome after going up on the old railroad bed which had gone from Clarkdale to Jeromein the old days and now went  past the cement plant, now fully operating. Prez was almost always reliable and I had no misgivings in letting Charlie Mike ride him free, not being ponied or restrained at all. Later in the year, Charlie Mike used the big old mule a lot and was able to pony some of the colts and such which was a great help to me.

I was greatly enjoying my new record player. Some of my favorites were "The Other Chet Atkins" in which the famous mostly-country musician played all Spanish and Mexican songs in a near classical guitarist style and "The Dream Duet" in which two opera singers of the time sang some great love song  duets from operettas and musical comedies. I also had one of country singer Hank Snow singing a bunch of songs about trains. Looking back I can see how the two albuns especially influenced Charlie Mike's musical future.  We both have always loved guitars. He has been a guitar 'picker', singer and song writer since his late teens and has performed some.

If course Dusty was still in my thoughts every day, something that did not change for a long time. I had made a bag that would hang on my belt to carry my camera, a small Kodak box camera, out with me on many rides and such because I was starting to collect souvenirs of times and places I knew would not be part of my life forever. I am so glad I did that as I have most of those today, now digitized and saved for posterity. All below are part  of that hoard.

Probably old previously used photos.  I only have so many in that collction but these are pertinent and semi-timely. Okay, first Charlie Mike with Tina and then Tina near foaling to contrast her appearnce. Next Charlie Mike on Prez. Then Leo Mix about two years old and Charlie Mike with Buzzie  also about two. The big truck saw a lot of use during this era. It was an F700 Ford with dual speed split axle, a power house really. I drove it rarely; it was a bit challenging!

Memoir Monday, Jan 23, 1965

 There was a spell of mild and dry weather during this time, it seems. We were doing a lot of fence work at Dead Horse Ranch to pay for pasture we were using there. The previous week my Christmas phonograph arrived at the trading stamp store/office in Prescott and was soon picked up and brought home. While it was just a basic and simple unit, not stereo and no auto features, it did play 33, 45 and 78 speed disks and was a source of much enjoyment for all of us. While it did not get played every evening, I did use it a lot the first several months and added to my LP library as much as I could. I still had quite a few of those old records and transferred them to CDs to lighten the load as I began to move more the past fifteen years or so. I kept about a dozen sentimental favorites and do not play them but just 'have' them. I use the copied CDs  instead.

Jan 23, 1965 Sat

            It is hard to get up in the morning lately but I do. Did the chores, ate muffins and packed the plunder. Charlie Mike went up for mail. I got letters from Tee and Shirl with a bunch of photos back. We left at about 9:30 and went over to June’s. We went down and built fence until about 12:30. I hiked up in the field to check the stock. Even Patsy and Bunny looked pretty good. We loaded some hay and headed home. Had a flat and had to leave the pickup on the Tuzigoot curve and go home for Big Green and a spare. So we were awfully late getting done. Luckily Mom had done the noon chores. We ate a late lunch and rested briefly before starting on the evening chores. We had and fed out a lot of chaff in the pickup and loaded the rest of the trash wood. Tomorrow we have to ride and get our wood in better shape. This evening Dad trimmed my hair so I call tonight my clean up night and I’m going to bathe and fix my nails before bed. I hoped I’d have a letter from Dusty but no such luck. He has been “with” me all day though. Guess I’ll hear from him some time next week, at least I hope so. You won’t desert me, will you, Dusty Darlin’? I didn’t play a single record this evening. I must work on my article more right away before I lose track of it. Well so long ‘til  tomorrow.

I stil wrote several girls though I had dropped all  my former male penpals so Dusty was the only guy I wrote to now. Tee and Shril were two that I stayed with for quite awhile. "Tee" as the nickname of a girl my age named Kathleen Addotto who lived in Chalmette, LA and her family had Quarter horses.  She spoke often of a blind sallion they had that she called Ray Moore.  I forget what his formal name was but he sounded like quite a horse. Shirl was Shirley Coulter. She lived in Rifle, CO with her folks and they did visit once and she and I rode on a pair of mules, Annie and Tirxie if  I remember right. She had a horse or two for a long time, then finally got married and lived in Grand Junction with her hubby for many years. We still traded greeting cards now and then or a short note on line. She was having some major health issues last I heard and I fear she may have passed away. I lost track of Tee many years ago

We had a lot of flat tires, it seems. I know we often ran on used or retread tires that were the most eceonomical but not always reliable. They were mostly on the pickup as it was unsafe to use weak tires on the bigger truck, "Old Green ", an F700 Ford flatbed onto which Dad built a strong rack and which often carried large loads of hay, livestock, wood and other stuff. Charlie Mike and I pumped many strokes with the old hand tire pumps to fill and refill low tires. An air compressor would have been quite a boon but was never acquired. Another case when "slave labor" worked perfectly well according to "The Boss." Same for a wheelbarrow, hose or pipe to take water down to the corrals in the canyon etc.etc. At least in Dad's judgment there were much more important things to spend money on than such 'conveniences.'  Charlie and I both grouse about that even now. We did So. Much. Work. and always the hard way, it seemed.

Any feed was too valuable to waste. When hauling a load of hay, some litter invariably ends up in the truck bed after the bales are stored.  "Chaff" might not be the most descripitive term for it but that was what we meant. So generally we'd get a cardboard box and fill it with the residue and then dump it in this feedbox or that to be used. 

I never realy liked to get my hair cut--especially at home although it was not usually too badly done. I liked it long and felt it was more feminine and flattering but every now and then it was decreed that it needed to be chopped back as maybe hazardous or distracting and out came the sheers. Once I was away from home, I let it get very long for quite awhile. That was a style there in the mid sixties, the long, straight 'hippie girl' hair.

Bunny and Patsy were both well along to foaling later that spring so it was good to have them eat some decent grass and put on a bit more weight before those colts arrived. They were Little Dusty and Twinkles. Tina was mostly home--at the pasture--and was due to foal too. Her baby came on my birthday but that's for another post!

Phiotos? Well, flat tires and loads of hay were not anything I documented so there are not many choices. I doubt I ever took one of my record player either. I may have pix of Tee and Shirl somewhere so I will look and of course Patsy and Bunny, though I  am sure I have shared them before.  Okay, first Bunny (buckskin) and Patsy (light gray) on pasture. Next, Tee Addotto with a horse she showed, not the stallion but her mare. And then Shirl with a mare she had about that time.

Memoir Monday, Jan 16, 1965

https://deirdre-fourds.blogspot.com/2023/01/another-bridge-12-15-jan-1965.html  This link is to an extra fill-in post, not linked on Facebook. Read it if you wish to make more sense of this one. Or go down past Jan 9 in the list since I went ahead and inserted it earlier.

 This day-after was not really traumatic but not easy, either. If I had known how long it would be before the next time I'd see Dusty, I would probably have been even more devastated. 

Jan 16, 1965 Sat

            Got up and went bravely out to greet the day. Fed and came up to a breakfast of cracked wheat and biscuits which I nearly threw up. The letdown was inevitable of course. We drove out to do the chores. Turned Pat out for the day. He seemed to be okay. He is such a pretty thing. We mended fence at June’s from 10:00 to 12:00 approximately. She pulled brush with her mare and talked. Gee, I get sort of sick of her after awhile. I can still feel Dusty’s touch. He is still out there at the pasture in spirit now. We got home and finished the noon chores just as the Bryants came. Charlie Mike and I got the second bike running and went riding. We rode Prez double out to do the chores. I promised Mom I’d tell her about Dusty, so I will the first opportunity I get. Since my convictions are so strong maybe I can halfway convince her that nothing is going to change my mind. I wrote him tonight, the last letter for awhile unless he replies so I have to answer promptly.   But he said it was ok. I’ve waited two years, really much longer, for “someone” and I have found him. He fits everything so perfectly. If only. Oh Dusty, my dearest, why?

(Fisher's?) Cracked Wheat was a hot cereal I really liked. I have not seen it in years but it came in a cardboard box like some flours and other grain products. It was literally cracked grains of wheat, best soaked overnight and then cooked like old fashioned oatmeal. I was still feeling a bit 'out of normal' to be nauseaus with good food to eat. (That got worse later on, mid 1965-66.) There had been no lecture or upset--I am sure they did not know of the visit and Charlie Mike was not about to spill it.  

I was a big fan of little Patrick--not so little now as he approached two years old. Late that spring I began to train him and he did exceptionally well. I've mentioned June a few times. She and her partner, a Mexican man I only knew as Julio, were caretakers for Dead Horse Ranch after the Ireys moved and put it on the market.  She was a husky woman and I think part or all Indian though I do not know what tribe. She rode in a western saddle and always wore voluminous skirts tucked around her legs. She was a character, beyond a doubt! 

For awhile Dad was back out working more with us and mostly directed the fence work. I was okay with that and for awhile things were fairly calm and no daily or even weekly kerfuffles. Too good to be true, of course, but enjoy while it lasts.  So for the moment there was not a lot to talk about. Routine 'chores' went on of course.

Not many pictures either. I'll dig up one or two.   First Tina in summer coat. She really did look Thoroughbred but  I never knew her pedigree. They did not have an Embark for horses then!  Next is Patrick, about the time I was ready to start gentle riding for him. He basically had Quarter Horse confirmation (see difference in hip and rump muscles between him and Tina) as did his sire, Chief, with the delicacy of Patsy, his pale gray mom, who looked rather Arabian. Last another shot of June Parsons. She was a capable rider and horsewoman despite the unconventional attire. Even Charley Bryant, my old horse whiperer mentor approved of her.

Memoir Monday, Jan 9, 1965

 I had received a letter on the 6th which kept my spirits up. It was still not mushy or over-the-top-romantic --that was not Dusty's way really--but it was sweet. This day was typical January--even then not my favorite month-- but no worse than many and better than some. In the past couple of years I was well on the way to becoming a caffeine addict and it was a needed boost for me many times. Also with an aspirin or two helped fight off headaches and other pains. Mom had got both Charlie Mike and me hooked on it with making us half and half cocoa and coffee from our pre-teen years on. 

Jan 9, 1965 Sat

            It was cold again but Saturdays are always busy. I rode. No trouble this morning anyway. I caught Chip and headed down river. Saw the new deputy sheriff name of Grimes. He appeared to be friendly. But I’ve got Dusty so… Nothing impressive. In the mail nothing for me but a letter from Tee. I led the four big ones again briefly. Saw the local in and out. They had a cat to clear the track apparently. No news there either. I’ve developed an awful weakness for trains in recent months though. Finally the chores were done and I came in to lunch. Spent a couple of hours on my article after reading the paper. I hated to get up and go out but consoled myself with a cup of coffee. (I can’t let Dusty be a solitary drinker! (ha ha))The chores were uneventful. Got to go get hay and wood tomorrow again I guess. Charlie Mike may soon have two bikes running. Wouldn’t that be phenomenal? They won’t stop for a sweet voice though. (So I hear.) Back to the grind again and I did it. My rough draft is done and about ¾ of it is half-polished. The Boss is to read it over tomorrow. Guess he will chop it rough but that is what it needs, doubtless. Next week I think I’ll return at least the recorder to Cim unless he writes a very moving letter. Dusty is just more my style. Norm and his greed, Shetlands and crooked face got chopped. Cim is a little too eastern or cultured or something for me. I’m surprise to see the sentiment in Dusty but I am sure he is Irish or at least a good part. About as ‘Anglo’ as you can get: “my” blue eyed coppery haired Charles Duncan Watt. He really is quite a guy. If only--maybe love really will find a way.

Odd to read Grimes' name. Later he was very active in the legal and other efforts that finally resulted in the total Morgan Meltdown in 1966-67. However, I do not think it was personal  but just  "doing his duty."  Even by this time, the senior Charles Morgan aka "Chuck" had quite a reputation and an "enemies list" to equal any current politician! In retrospect I know a greater part of that was brought on totally by him and his attittude and actions. The sad part was that it came down like a dump truck of shit all over our whole family and even the animals.That has been hard to understand and harder still to forgive!

Of course the local was the bi-weekly Santa Fe train that came in, usually on Tuesday and Saturday, but someteimes off schedule with weather and other issues. Charlie Mike and I both kept a close watch on that train and its activities. Rock slides up the route to the junction at Drake were not infrequent since the track was cut into the mountainside for much of the distance. Going twice on the modern scenic trip which uses that exact same track and route, I am amazed at what was done with mostly manual labor, some dynamite and a few mules over a century ago! It is still tough to maintain. 

I now often quoted things Dusty had said. I'd mentioned a near accident bike riding and he told of one he had as a kid and said "they won't stop for a sweet voice."  His droll humor amused me at times. I had become disillusioned about Norm--not sure what he had said but I felt he was too grasping or perhaps greedy. And that spilled over to Cim also, who I feared was getting too attached to me when it was really impossble and I did not know him save by his own words--not an unimpeachable source. On a  hopeful note, Dusty had said  "Love will find a way if you give it time." That was about as 'mushy' as he got! Fearing to lose his son in the ongoing issues,  he was between a rock and a hard place right then and for quite awhile. 

Chip was a nice little mule. He was a bit bigger than Trixie and Ruby but way smaller than Annie and Prez. I don't think I have a photo of him but he was a typical brown-gray 'mousy' colored mule with no special markings. On my number disposition scale he was the good in-between: about #3, not too hyper but never lazy or balky. 

In short, life went on, mostly little to mark a new day, week or month beyond same-o, same-o. Yet there were small miracles and bright spots. One was coming before long...

{Photos--shucks, not much new to share!)  Okay, I have mentioned June Parsons and will again off and on. Here she is in her usual riding attire. I think the horse on the left with the white foot is Tina. And I am partly visible outside the garte on Annie. Then we go to trains. Here is a typical view of the local on the tracks behind the old depot at Clarkdale. Next is a newer GP unit in the long-time traditional blue and gold Santa Fe livery.   GP stood for "General Purpose" and these and many later deisel locos were all from EMD--the Electro-Motive Division of General Motors. The last picture is a typical GP-9 with the 'zebra stripe' paint job we saw most often at Clarkdale. GP-9 is still my fave! Note--the two Geeps are not my photos but off an ATSF fan group site.

Another Bridge 12 & 15 Jan 1965

 This  explanation is needed to put the regular Jan 16 Monday Memoir in perspective. I will not link it to FB but it is here for those who wish to read it. The next time Dusty and I saw each other was May 31st. The intervening weeks and months were not easy...

                                                             *********************

On Tuesday, Jan 12, I got the surprise of my life–an unexpected letter, short but exciting. I would have a visitor that Friday! He was coming just to see me. No week ever passed much slower. It seemed that B&B 6 was finally finished at Williams and would now move to Flagstaff. While that was going on, Dusty could make a trip down to the Verde and then go back to start setting his outfit to rights to begin work on Monday. It was the first chance he'd had to get away.  

That Friday morning I rode fence out at Dead Horse with June Parsons, as I had promised to do. I was lucky enough to finish and leave fairly early so was home shortly after noon. That was almost too early for the planned 3:00 meeting and I got involved with discussing the horse training article I was trying to write. Still I got out to pony colts at 2:00. We just finished trimming Bravo’s feet when Moonspinner passed on the highway.  I was able quickly to catch Chief and hit the road. I'd got my note in the message box coffee can (down near the Bittercreek Bridge then, I think) earlier and someone found it. I hit a lope through Patio Town and the gate into the river bottom. Where was Moonspinner? Then a flash of metallic gray off to the right caught my eye. My heart was in my mouth as I rode. The car was empty! I reined in but didn’t wait long. A slim figure in olive gray riders, a brown  plaid shirt, gray hat and mirror shades drifted in through the salt cedars.

For a fearful second he was a stranger and then a soft voice asked me why I looked so serious and I knew it was my Dusty. So we talked about everything except us at first, talk broken by long silences and longer looks. I made him take off the shades so I could see his eyes. They hadn’t changed. How could I ever have thought them cold? He teased me until I pouted. “You came down just to see me and then all you do is tease me.”

“What else is there to do?” he asked. Of course it was his way to deal with some powerful emotions and keep control; I semi-knew that but had not quite come fully to understand yet. I'd equated teasing with sarcastic meanness from many bad experiences. This was different. 

I showed him the picture I took in October 30. “Do I look that rough?” he asked. Then he took two more pictures of me. “I see you’re wearing it.” (my talisman necklace)  I replied that I wore it constantly. Then he asked, “Will I see you again today?” 

 I took the chance and sent him to the pasture to wait as it was now about 4:15. I cajoled Charlie Mike into coming along but refused to explain why. I knew he’d be surprised. We rode Prez and Leo. I began the chores, and soon saw Dusty as he slipped soundlessly through the brush, probably to be sure we were alone. Charlie Mike could scarcely believe his eyes. I will add that Dusty was always good to Charlie Mike, almost as if the kid was his little brother instead of mine. So we talked as we worked. Again he carried hay for me and again I was stirred by his nearness. He’d torn off the thumbnail on his right hand—he was left handed—and it made me shudder to look at it. After we were done, we talked. Charlie Mike asked about the outfit etc. I listened, occasionally meeting a pair of dusty blue eyes. My gaze never left his face. I had to remember every line, every tone.  Each time I learn something new.

While we were talking, I said, “The only person who could hurt me would be someone I trusted.” Went on, could I trust Charlie Mike etc. which I of course affirmed. “I’ve always been a loner, no brothers to trust or not,” Dusty said. “So you’re an only child,” I teased. “That’s how come you’re such a brat.” He looked hurt, maybe thought I meant it until I smiled. “Not really. I can tease too.”

We had to start leaving so he followed us across the log bridge over the ditch. Our mounts were tethered there.  We mounted. He admired Leo and observed his feet were small. I agreed it was a common fault of Quarter Horses. I sent Charlie Mike on to open the pasture gate. Dusty leaned on Leo’s shoulder, stroking his nose. Leo is usually slow to make up to someone but he was soon begging for more. We talked, looking steadily at each other.

“If I hadn’t met you when I did, things might be a lot different now… I might have been with those guys that got fired. I guess I told you I was on the fence for awhile. I didn’t think there was anybody around worth looking up to…” I said I was trying to live up to his name for me (Angel) but I never could. He said that was the way he thought of me, though. I then said, “I’m going to have to quit writing to you so much. I’ll get in trouble and …it really isn’t right.”

“Maybe someday things will be different. But I don’t want you wasting your time on me. I’m so much older than you and…everything.” 

“I don’t think of it that way. Oh, some people think I’m crazy but I’m not worried.”

A moment of silence and then he said “I heard you had a pretty bad a scare one time.” (I had mentioned issues with Blondie a little in a recent letter, mostly the once when he waylaid me down at the river; he'd been fishing and was pretty drunk. It got a little bad.).

“Oh yes, I did. It taught me a lesson I’ll never forget. Like I said, the only person who could hurt me now would be someone I trusted.” Long look, then “Hurting you would be the last thing I’d want to do.” I looked back. “I know. That’s why I trust you.”

He half-sighed. “I had a whole bunch of things planned out that I wanted to say to you and now I can’t.”  I didn't ask or push. “It’s all right. I’ve got to go.” We just looked at each other then, for eyes could say things words were not allowed to. In another minute I would have leaned blindly down to him. I had been aching just to put a hand on his shoulder, to bend over closer to those steady, tender eyes. I reached out a hand, too blind with tears to see his face. He grasped my hand, held it tightly for a long instant. I answered the touch with a fierce squeeze. As Leo whirled away, Dusty patted my leg lightly twice just above the knee and I could feel that touch hours later. I hit Leo too hard with my newly sharpened spurs and he pitched but I got him stopped. We rode. When I looked back, Dusty was walking down the ditch ... Then we neither looked back.  For now, there was nothing more to say or do.

Memoir Monday, Jan 2, 1965

 Gentle Readers: (as the Victorian writers were fond of saying!) I had thought seriously about quitting this exercise of sharing the past. The days were often so dull and routine and for those who really do not know the actual complexity of caring for livestock and doing it on a very limited budget and in far from ideal conditions, much may not make a lot of sense. Certainly my family mess is appalling, confusing and hard to understand. At times even my drama about Dusty probably seems overwrought and strange since a lot of it was just on my head and heart or may seem that way. The long months from January through July this year, we only saw each other twice.  Hardly the stuff of romance books, is it? The last 5/12ths of the year were different but I won't get there for weeks yet, since I do match the days to the current calendar of Mondays. I wonder if there is anything enlightening, encouraging or even some OMG moments that  may turn a light on for someone somewhere. I hope so. Even a few old friends who thought they knew me well are surprised and even shocked by some of what I share here. There was so much I never told anyone.  So why now?  I really do not know. Any time you get bored, just say so and I can stop. To me it often feels like a weird flick or TV show I saw long ago or a book I read once and had almost forgotten. Who really was that young woman? Was she real?                                                                                *** *** *** *** ***

A new year had begun but very little had changed in my life at this point. Two years and seven months had passed since my high school graduation and I could see no end to the cowboy girl routine that was now my life. I do mention a feeling of things "about to change" fairly often yet that did not really happen for another year and eight months. In short, much got worse before it got better but thank heaven Dusty was there even if not aways actually present and more than once his place in my life was a saving grace. One which gave me the faith, strength and hope to go on and eventually to break free from the cobwebs of my enmeshed family prison and the anchors of my fear,lack of confidence and personal sense of being valueless. I will carry that debt into the next life, I feel sure, since I could not repay it in this life.

Jan 2, 1965  Sat

            In full swing today, so to speak. I go up at 7:00 and fed, ate and rode. All was ok at the pasture. In the mail we got our check from the gas well and I got a letter from Shirl. Nothing from Cim or Dusty,  so I mailed an “adios” letter to Cim. I wonder how he’ll reply if he does. I led Lyno in the Indian Hills. Charlie Mike and I rode Buzz and Annie and watched the ‘local.’ I led Bravo and had everyone out of their pens today. We got in about 3:00  and ate. Then I did the dishes. They got the buzzard article off this evening. We did the chores ordinarily. I had a list of jobs planned for this evening but did none of them. We talked instead  but about characters and stories etc. Just a cheerful visit instead of any lectures. It was fun. I keep thinking how Dusty would enjoy sharing all this with us, with me. Perhaps someday he can.  If not him then maybe someone of the same stripe. I doubt that Cim would really go for it. To fit, a guy would have to be ‘muy macho.’ I think Dusty qualifies there. If only--he is so perfect otherwise. I wish I could somehow change things but that isn’t fair, is it? But I love him.

I had finally resolved my dilemma about Norm and Cim. I had stopped corresponding with Norm first and then talked myself out of any attachemnt to Cim. I did recognize that I really did not know either of them and had no foundation for trust or deep feelings. One meeting with Dusty that took place on January 15, fairly cemented my connection to him. I will cover it soon. I still wrote to several girls. Judy was an artist and we were working on some projects where she would illustrate my work. Shirl also loved horses and had one or two. She lived with her parents in Rifle, Colorado. We  actually met once. 

We kept several animals in the small corrals there in Clarkdale. They had room to move around and lie down or stand at ease but I knew they needed to get out and move often, espcially when it was wet and muddy. Horses are athletic creatures as are mules, so a major part of my daily work was to get most of them out of the pens and lead any I did not ride for close to an hour at a walk and trot. 

The "local" was the Prescott Local, a Santa Fe spur line freight train that made the trip from Prescott to Clarkdale normally twice a week. Charlie Mike had been watching it since he was barely allowed to leave the yard at four or so and I'd become a 'fan' as well. At this time with the Glenn Canyon Dam being built, loads of limestone for cement and actual cement were going out regularly and that was a big part of what was hauled athough general merchandise did come in too. Before I-17 was completed the highways into and out of the Verde were not big truck friendly!

Writing of all kinds was a major interest of the family. Dad wrote and published a lot of articles and stories for several years and I had been interested in writing almost as soon as I could sound out words and print the letters. At this point I was still writing my 'ranch romances' inspired by Zane Grey and his kind, working on my YA girl-and-horse novel, and trying to put together articles or a book about horse training,  Naturally we talked about all this many times. Our family was big on "talking." Well, mostly Dad talked and the rest listened but I did talk some on the 'good' subjects.  A lot of it was not fun and pleasant as I have mentioned before but sometimes it was. 

Photos are hard to find. I know I have shown Annie, Buzzie, Lyno, Bravo and others. So I will see if I can dredge up anything just a little different.  I'm with Alice in Wonderland--a book needs pictures!  Okay--me holding Bravo, about a year old. He had Tina's blaze and the same one white foot. Charlie Mike and me leading several for execise as we often did. This was in the Bitter Creek wash--infamous bridge in the background. Then the Clarkdale railyard, photo taken from the loading tower--not supposed to climb it but it was a weekend! Next that loading tower--it dumped cement or limestone dust into rail cars and CTI trucks before they built a spur track up to the plant.And a work train, this one with a Burro Crane or ditcher machine.