Memoir Monday, June 26, 1965

June was fading away, down to the last week there. Tension was high, for me especially, and for the whole enterprise, really. It was hot, funds were tight, issues arose daily and so on.... The next summer was even worse; thank goodness I did not know that yet!  Still, this was the hardest one I had endured since my full time cowboy girl stint began back in 1962. 

June 26, 1965  Sat

 I got up at 6:00 and went briskly to work. Only by keeping very busy am I able to maintain a degree of sanity. I fed and finished my yard work. It looks so nice (brag).Wrote about the Appy Judging School.  Rode Prez out to do the chores.  I got a letter from Judy. Led Leo and the red fillies and finally rode back out to do the midday swap. The local came in--nada, de nada, por nada! I spent the afternoon taking a nap and it’s doubtlessly a good thing I did. We had quite a hairy time at the pasture. Tried to breed Rita and she threw a fit so did Susie instead.  Hubert’s sore broke and about a quart of pus came out, Ugh, it was sickening. I gave him his shot.   Finally we put Bravo in with the mares because Pat was clobbering him. We were 9:00 getting in to our chicken dinner. I guess the Boss will leave early tomorrow so I am ‘el segundo’ for a few days at least. Lots to keep track of, too. I plan to take it a little bit easier tomorrow. Maybe do some sewing etc. But you know the best laid plans. I hoped I’d hear from Dusty today but no such luck. I’ll write him if he doesn’t pull in Tuesday.  Right now I am half mad at him.

I think I have mentioned how Charlie Mike and I were desperately keeping very busy at this point. Cleaning up the yard was an off and on effort I  gave at least some attention to almost every year but this time we made a big project out of it. All the "plunder" was stacked as neatly as possible, trash and weeds were removed and so on. I think I noted one place that we hauled dozens of old wagon loads across the alley and dumped them out of the way.  I guess to say I was wound up like an old fashioned eight day clock would be only a small exaggeration! Charlie Mike shared my anxiety, and he was also getting provoked about the talks, lectures and assorted shit fits that happened all the time.We often talked privately about taking off but were not sure how to manage it and I was still rooted in an absurd sense of duty. So mostly it was just keep on keeping on, one day at a time.

The Local--the Prescott Local was the usually twice-a-week freight train in and out. We kept expecting that B&B 6 would arrive with it the next visit since we had been told it was going to come back to Clarkdale 'soon'. But it didn't, time after time.

Hubert was one of the two big mules we had gotten a few weeks before. He and Lyndon (Humphrey and Johnson?) were really too big to be good saddle mules and we  had no idea what  to do with them. I can'r recall if he got distemper which can often form a large swelling in the chest or brisket area that will eventually break and drain or had been injured but he had a nasty sore and we'd been giving him antibiotic shots for it. This evening it broke open finally and ugly crap poured out. It was pretty gross. 

Bravo was now a year old and Pat was two, both young intact male horses and of course they would have some conflicts.  Bravo was too young to bother the mares to any serious extent so that was the best we could do. He was really rather meek and the big girls did not bully him badly.

Where was Dad--The Boss--going? I honestly do not recall. Perhaps either the VA Hospital for some treatment or other or else yet again on one of those endless "ranch hunt" trips. At any rate in his absence I was the foreman (el segundo) and in charge since there was really no one else capable of filling that role. Charlie Mike was getting to be a good hand and helper but still only fourteen and Mom was no ranch hand at all. Alex was still just a little kid. It no longer felt like an honor and I knew at the end I would be seen as doing something wrong and get reamed out for that. What ever!

 I had only heard from Dusty once since his surprise visit on May 31, and at that point the future was not too clear. No, I was not 'mad at him' but it was frustrating. I now know on his end it was equally so as he had problem after problem and at times was ready to quit and ditch it all but he had a strong sense of duty too. Then and there I had only a vague idea of his situation. Mine was in my face daily and patience was getting fragile. 

I know--it all sounds like a stupid, bad/sad story, doesn't it? Looking back it feels that way to me too. At times it is hard to believe it was real and I lived through it. Charlie Mike and I both survived and here we are today, living in a much better situation which we know we earned by what we did then and much we did later on our own as adults. Those shared rough times are a huge bond we share. 

A few photos. Bravo about a year old. This must have been spring and he had not shed out well. Next is Patrick (Pat) that summer. This was about the time I began to ride and train him. I think his first ride was in July. I had started Ginger first as she was a couple of months older. They were both Chief's colts. Last Alex and Charlie Mike behind the Ford about the start of school that fall. Charlie Mike was a freshman and Alex was in 2nd grade I think. They were not too ragamuffin looking for school, mostly thanks to Grandma Witt. Bless her heart. She was our angel.