Memoir Monday April 22, 1966

The major crisis had faded and all the animals were recovering. I was still worn out and very stressed since I  knew a "created" crisis was inevitable now that a degree of calm had returned.  "Business as usual" was anathema to The Boss.  He would have to invent some catastrophe or issue to remain large and in charge. That was his style. 

April 22, 1966, Friday

Got up and about early. Mom and I drove out at 7:30 leaving Charlie Mike to get Alex and himself off to school. The Boss left for Prescott early. Mom sent me off to be out of the way which kinda upset me. I was all for packing up and going right away, really. We talked most of the morning away and I had to hurry to get the midday chores done, bathed and head for the dentist.  I had to wait awhile and finally got my tooth drilled out but have to go back next week to have it filled. Oh hell. I rode over to Old Nick’s. Sold my recorder for $5.00, a poor price but I need the cash. He wasn’t interested in Rufus but listened to my tale of woe about injured and killed animals and all. The Boss got home about 5:00 and reported on his trip and then threatened me with all kinds of dire stuff, apparently thinking I really intended to run off at once and live with Dusty without benefit of marriage. He is sure trying to make me out a whore and I get awfully riled sometimes. But things cooled down. “Don’t blow your cool, Baby.” The evening chores were done in due time and I read the new Reader’s Digest. After supper I made up my purple floral peasant blouse quickly before going down for the final feeding. By golly a few more days of this will bury me but I don’t reckon it matters. Dusty has been gone five weeks now and not a line have I heard. I’ve been ditched, don’t you think? Well bullshit. Don’t blow that cool.

I still rode out some through this period but often Mom and I drove out. We went early today as The Boss had a trip planned. At this point I could hardly bring myself to say"Dad"; he had turned into a tyrant and was totally unpredictable and unreasonable much of the time. I guess that was why Mom shooed me off when we got back before he left. She knew my fuse was getting very short.We talked but did not resolve anything.

I rode to Cottonwood to the dentist and then on to the junk store about a half mile along the highway through town at that time.The real name of the proprietor refuses to come to me. I knew it once, I am sure. So then I was home and the Boss returned. I guess his trip did not go quite to plan as he was already not happy. And the created issue started at once. If  nothing else, then his vision of my running off to shack up would suffice. He could threaten and fume and damn me for that. I had told Mom several times I was NOT going to go off that way, and emphasized Dusty did not want me to and would not allow it. So where and why? Yes, I had recently said frequently I wanted to leave but the purpose was to find a job, not elope! There was little I could say and expect to be heard so I strove to keep cool. The rant ran down and things fell back into the routine. The late feeding had been established as the animals recovered and kept their feed disbursed throughout the long day. More work, sorting and such. Charlie Mike and I did it.

I went on as if all was okay but I had lost the little progress made in pulling out of my depression. Death would be such a relief... It is sad and bad to feel that way. I got past it but not quickly or easily. Less than a week later I turned 23. 

What pictures will work here?  Some natural portraits of the family. Mom first, she was about 46 and probably in peri-menopause which I did not understand at the time but she was not doing well. Next is Dad--the Boss--apparently displeased about something--or anything. Midlife crisis at age 54 perhaps. Charlie checking a tire. Next Charlie, not quite 15, with his normal grim or sullen face. He was certainly not happy. And last me, holding a mule we called Dynamite. I did not look too happy either. Were any of us, ever?

Monday Memoir April 15, 1966

 At this very low point, I was despondent and disgusted beyond any hope for awhile .I was exhausted and sleep-deprived. It would have been so easy to just lie down and give up, try to will myself to go out like a light or somehow get in front of a speeding vehicle--by accident, of course. The final back-breaking straw had been losing Little Dusty. Yet in a way that, following Tina's death, set me free. As was once said:  What is freedom but nothing left to lose? I was so very close to that point. 

April 15, 1996 Friday

Another one now--four weeks since the outfit left and not a line from Dusty. Got up and went down to feed and found Leo sick. I’d like to have died right then. But one cannot choose apparently. They took him to Shauffler’s of course. Charlie Mike did the pasture chores and I watched Lyno who was also ailing.  They brought back some shots for her. They refuse to believe me when I say I want to go. I guess they just can’t accept it . I’ll have to keep telling them. So I am a liar, cheat, whore, bad as a Commie... You know what?   I couldn’t care less.  Yeah, I sold myself for $20; that’s really how it was and I may as well admit it. If he ever writes, I’ll be surprised. I’ve been taken for a fool again, and in about the worst way this time. I am just shit-full of horses, especially sick ones, the Verde Valley and all its inhabitants, and too many other things to list. I promised Dusty I would not kill myself and promised Judy, too. But I can happen to an accident, can’t I? My promises aren’t worth a damn anyway. Especially when they are made under pressure, I might. add Well, I ain’t making any more. That is one sin I’ll quit being guilty of. If you don’t make any promises you can’t very well break them. Had to take Leo back to the vet for tubing and even with that we had to stay up all night with him.  Now at 6:45 he seems to be recovering fairly well. Do hope so. The thing that breaks me up is  Little Dusty really didn’t have a chance. I’ll admit to erring when I put him back in the pen but I was in a bind and it was the Boss’s surly temper and Mom’s carelessness that put me there.  Shauffler was out of town but had my colt been tubed and properly tranquilized I think he’d be alive today. But he was my horse, so… Well I watched the last horse I loved die.  Buzzie is okay but she's just another horse. I’ve been criticized so much about how I broke her that she’s about ruined for me. I never broke a horse by myself before--Pat and Ginger were after her--she was the first I did alone. She is gentle and safe; Charlie Mike can ride her and I can do quite a few things with her. She is far from perfect but she is no outlaw or barn sour or anything. I’m really wound up--or unwound...just not sure which. There are so many injustices in this old world. Stop the world and let me OFF!! My stomach is sick. I’ve been sick for two months I think.  I dread my next period. If it’s like the last one... something is badly out of order with my system. Well, I don’t give a damn, really. Except I think I’ll just suffer and not die. 

This one is awfully bleak. I have been lower a time or two but this was basically a real  nadir point in my life. Depression had swallowed me whole and my outlook was so darkened and poisoned by it.  The loss of my 'baby' was brutal. He was always special to me, somehow delicate and gentle, rather deer-like in many ways. He really was not fragile but fine boned and seemed little though he was not.. I did see a single backward blessing in knowledge  he now would never have to suffer any brutal treatment during training, for some small transgression that would have been inevitable, but my heart was truly broken at the time. He had been gone two days here. I always felt as if he was the last one to be sick but that was not true; several more to include Leo and Lyno followed him and were saved. 

Now having lost both Tina and Little Dusty, I might have asked to have Rico or Bravo in replacement but I probably thought I would have been laughed at. Who was I to expect the two I had somehow caused to die should be replaced?  I had already spoiled the one horse I had left and made her worthless. She got sick but did not die. How could I expect more? The fact I had trained both Patrick and Ginger and made them fit to be sold had no significance. In some ways they were also supposed to be mine and I did not get a cent from their sales nor a single word of praise for my efforts. 

As for my dismal assessment of the situation with Dusty --the big one--and myself,  it was strictly an echo of the slurs and ugly, brutal things I had been hearing. Yes, I was a filthy tramp and an immoral piece of shit.  Of course no one could possibly love me and my 'love' was a cheating lecher, anyway.  Ye Gods, but I was bitter and broken right then.  I did hear from him early in May and learned he had been sick for weeks, probably walking pneumonia which with his asthma was potentially very bad. He was worried about being take out of service (forced medically to at least take a leave of absence).  No wonder he had not written.

By the next week I had pulled myself a few yards up out of the hole. Life did go on and was mostly almost tolerable.  It had taken a colossal effort,  but we had pulled the herd through the crisis and slowly things went back to 'normal' as much as they could approach that status. 

Photos: I have posted Little Dusty before-- I can't  bear to do it again now. I had no new pictures of Big Dusty at this time either.  I think I will simply grab one I stole off line some time ago. It surely fits the mood! I present the Goddess of Depression...

Monday Memoir, April 8, 1966

 April 1966, all at once we were besieged with equine sickness again. Twinkles was Patsy's second colt, about a year old at this time. The next few weeks were an almost endless sequence of equine health problems, not all of which ended well. By the end of it I was a wreck!

April 8, 1966 Fri

A hard day’s night and a hard night’s day following one another. I slept about two hours last night on the kitchen floor between Twinkles watches. At daylight we gave her another enema (Charlie Mike and I) and got several bits of mucus and pus out of  her. She just kept getting worse, though. Finally we headed for  the pasture. Charlie Mike and I did the chores and Mom went over to Shauffler’s for some medicine. Some creep from Texas came by to 'look at the mules' and about scared me. I was so tired. I knew I’d be dead if I was any tireder. When we got home, a guy was there talking to the Boss. He wanted to buy  burro to go on a pack trip into Sycamore hunting buried treasure. He and a buddy bought Lila for $60.  In the afternoon Dad hauled them up to the tank where we released Rita and left them. Charlie Mike and I did the chores and hunted a little pottery. Twink was still worse so we took her over to Shauffler. He met us on the road and treated her in the trailer. He said he thought she had an aneurysm and might die. But anyway she had a chance.  Chief had a little distress while we did the evening chores so we had to watch him. At 10:00 we gave Twink another shot of tranquilizer and went to bed. Charlie Mike and I went down to check at 12:00. Twink was a little restless but she seemed better. Chief was not getting bad fast anyway. This has been quite an amazing day--good and bad. I had a two hour nap in mid-afternoon that saved me, more or less. 

Over the next couple of weeks I spent quite a few nights on the kitchen floor, fully dressed with maybe a pillow and a light blanket so I could get up every other hour to go check on, administer medicine or get and walk an animal in distress. I've always been a light sleeper and if needed, I could almost make myself wake up on a pre-set schedule. I used that many years later when my husband had a severe staff infection and had to have an IV antibiotic via a surgically inserted port several times in each 24 hour period for about ten days. Back in 1966, it became an ongoing near-nightmare as one after another of our herd fell ill to this peculiar ailment. There was colic, some signs of distemper and in some cases other symptoms. In some ways it almost seemed there was "something in the air"  for I knew of some other people's equines having problem about the same time. I guess I will never know. 

We took several over the the Vet Clinic and had Dr Shauffler out to Clarkdale as well . The sickness all occurred there at our corrals in the canyon, none at the pasture. Equine colic is a digestive problem--a bit like a fussy baby-- when there is pain and may be diarrhea or blockage. The biggest danger is for the animal to get down and roll in their agony, frequently twisting a gut in the process.  Surgery is usually the only way to save them and can still be very iffy. Walking them and keeping them on their feet is about the only way to deal with it. How many miles did I stumble up and down the alley in the dark...not quite sleep walking.

 Lila was a little black jenny burro we had.  The would-be-treasure-hunters returned in a day or two and we took the burro back, charging them some rent for her use. That was just one example of weird things that happened off and on. We once almost rented some mules to a Walt Disney production being filmed in the Verde Valley but the stock boss balked at what seemed to us a reasonable contract. They may have gotten some mules elsewhere.

Twinkles did recover, by the way, and was still with us some months later. Her final story will be related in 1967-8 events if I get that far. She had a sweet nature as a young mare and I am sorry I did not get to train her as I had her brother Patrick. Unfortunately, although she did recover within a few days, a number of others soon had their turns with this mysterious sickness and there were many more hard nights to get through. 

Photos: First is Patsy with new Twinkles the previous late spring. Then Charlie Mike with Twink, about the time of this situation. He had claimed her and named her for that pretty star on her face.  And finally, Lila with one of her colts. Baby burros are so darn cute!

Memoir Monday April 1, 1966

 March kind of went out like a lion at my house. Will discuss in my comments below. From that point things went down hill most of the month with more equine sickness and losses and dismal days... I'm ready to throw that book across the room. Are y'all too?  I mean a happy ending looks very unlikely and who can believe these endless 'perils of Pauline' situations. Where is the mustachioed villain with the rope and those railroad tracks with the old steamer coming? Living a melodrama sucked, big time.

April 1, 1966 Friday

 Well, guess today really wasn’t bad, all considered. Got up after a semi-sleepless night and fed. I felt pretty rough. My left ear feels real odd, like there is a pressure-bubble in it and my whole face and head aches like hell. But…it doesn’t matter. I had to apologize to the Boss before he’d apologize to me. And I got a fair long talking to but it wasn’t too drastic. I really didn’t let it bug me. Mom and I drove out to feed about 10:00. When we came back I did midday chores a little early and went up for mail. I got my ordered records at last. Wish they’d had the Eddy Arnold one. I ate lunch and took a good shower and then it was time to go to the dentist. I wore my blue peasant outfit. I think it is so cute; I’m proud to wear it.  Dr Joe P wouldn’t work on me til my lip heals even more--nuts. Mom and I went shopping some and came home. Mrs. Reilly came by while I was resting. I didn’t talk to her. We did our evening chores etc and now another day draws to a close. I am playing records peacefully and am about ready for bed. So far Eve’s curse has not struck or painlessly if it has. I was a little disappointed not to hear from Dusty. It’s been two weeks now.  Actually I won nearly every point this morning--even a semi-consent on Dusty--so I haven’t a thing to squeak about. I will probably go to college this fall and have three years to work and stay. Then I’m free and I’ll marry him as he should have things settled by then too. All I have to do meanwhile is keep my peace, hold my tongue and make out like studying horses etc. Guess I can be a fat cat same as the next guy. I threw my last fit yesterday. No lie, man. It doesn’t win you one g-damn thing. I am likely to have a weak ear permanently, I think. That’s what I got for throwing a fit. Oh hell, sometimes you just can’t win

The day before, Charlie Mike and I had gone riding on the two red mares searching above Peck's Lake for several missing mules. When we got home we found the old ice box by the tack barn turned over with a dozen steel bars sticking into it at odd angles. For the most part we had used it to store some of our stuff. Most of my sun-colored glass collection had been in or on top of it. That glass was now in shattered  shards and scattered all over the yard. It seems like The Boss had totally lost it and gone on a rampage. Charlie Mike says it was over his liquor label collection but I do not know. Still, I was shattered by the loss of my treasures and pitched one hissy fit. I screamed at my father and said I hated him. He came over to me but not to apologize. Instead he slapped me hard across the face twice, once over my left ear.  If I could have gotten into anyone's car right then I would have left with no question! The blows left me with a bad headache and a bubbly, half deaf ear for awhile. I reclaimed a couple of pieces of my glass and eventually collected more but many were irretrievably gone and are missed to this day.

So the next day dawned as they do and life went on. It was a kind of April Fool's bad joke but not the worst. Something in me had shifted -- a mixture of attitude, determination, intent and even acceptance perhaps.  As for winning a point on Dusty, I really do not remember that or what it might possibly have been.  There was preliminary acceptance that I might start college in the fall, at least, and from that small concession, matters did move forward, slow and lurching, but they moved. As for never throwing a fit again, I almost kept that intention. I became much more self-contained and restrained than I had been--and I was normally not all that demonstrative of negative thoughts and feelings anyway. Now they were completely walled inside and not revealed. I gave very few outward signs from that day onward. I guess I am often thought or appear cold and unfeeling because of that restraint.  It's all there, just not revealed. I no longer could, really. 

What else is there to say or show?  It was what it was and there are only a couple of  suitable photos.  First is a shot of me and Charlie Mike in the back yard. Beside and behind him is that icebox. Nothing on top of it right then. This was about a year earlier I believe. Then two recent pix of my glass. The heavier goblet may have been part of my collection; it is glued and missing some pieces. The rest I have added over the intervening years. In our 32 years of treks,  Jim and I went to many old mines and ghost town sites and I found several things. It is harder to discover any now as too many others have been there too.

Memoir Monday, March 25, 1966

 A short calm before the next round of storm which was a many-day tornado or hurricane throughout  April. That was a month I struggled to get through. My 23rd birthday passed with little notice; by the month's end, I think exhaustion just brought it all down to a slow almost-stop. From then on it was better and worse in fits and starts.  Four more months to complete my "sentence"...

March 25, 1966 Friday

A week passed already. This was a cool, damp and sweet smelling morning and it was a pleasure to go out. Mom and I drove out early so The Boss could get a good start to Prescott. But he didn’t leave til 12:30. Ha--shows you how worthwhile it is to hurry. It looked like rain all day and did shower a time or two so I didn’t ride. Chief was quite lame on his right foreleg --it’s not clear what is the matter with it. Hope it is not serious. I rode up with the Boss when he left and got the mail. I got all sorts of plunder but nothing too valuable. You have to sign up for four years with the Air Force. That is too long.  And they are real tough on testing etc. I spent the afternoon sorting my sewing  stuff and got it consolidated quite nicely. That helps. I’ve planned a skirt and blouse with the butterfly material now. The blouse will be beige with trim of the other. We got all our chores done okay. After supper I wrote to Tee and Shirl just to get it out of the way. I really don’t enjoy writing letters anymore. If they didn’t beg me, I’d drop all my pen pals except Judy and Linda. I may yet just sort of gradually like.  Kathy, Laura and Shirl wouldn’t miss me much. Mary never writes and I guess I could find time for Tee. That only leaves Carol, Maureen and Evelyn who are very “sometimes.” And Dusty, of course.

It was almost a novelty to have a quiet and 'routine' day anymore. I appreciated them when one came along. Having "the Boss" away helped!  I still had a lot of the fabric Aunt Roxie had bought for me and I kept changing ideas of what I'd make. My shirts for Dusty and me were done and I had made some pieces of an outfit in the blue print, a peasant style blouse and full gathered skirt as I remember. 

I had been thinking about joining the military and had sent away for info on all the services then open to women. I guess mainly Army, Air Force and Navy. The Air Force seemed the nicest or most interesting but minimum enlistment was four years and I was not ready to commit to that long. Not sure why I thought three years was doable but four was not. I was sending off for info from a number of colleges and universities and a few other things as well. That took stamps but I think I still had a little cash left over from my California trip. My desire and determination to manage some way to get out of the Verde Valley and the immediate family mess was gaining strength as overall conditions continued to deteriorate.

I'd now been doing pen pals since late 1959 so a good six years. Many had come and gone. I slowly got rid of all the guys including some that had made 'handsome hero' ranks or a more recent version of that status, but a few girls still wrote, at least sporadically. Kathy lived in the northern midwest and had recently gotten married. Laura was in the Appalachians somewhere--West Virginia?  Tee was in Louisiana and her family had Quarter Horses, Shirl was in Colorado and had come down with her folks to visit once. She also had a horse. I hardly recollect Mary. Carol was Mrs Ordiway--she who wasn't upset I'd had a crush on her then hubby. Maureen and Evelyn were school friends. Actually I kept in touch with Judy until summer 1971, with Linda to the present and at least Christmas cards with Shirl to the last year or two. Her health was failing as was Linda's in recent years.  We are all old!

So March 'marched' out of the picture and April knocked at the door. It was maybe not quite my absolute worst month ever but came close. Once it had passed, there were only four more but I did not know that yet.  What a strange trip it had been and still continued to be...

Photos? Darn, what can I drag up now?  A hodgepodge! Okay a sample of the blue fabric I mentioned, scraps used in a quilt square. Then three shots, the color in September 2021 and the b&w in about 1960 along the same general area in the Verde River bottom south of Clarkdale. It has sure changed! Last another quilt square. Why did I call this "butterfly fabric" ?  Well there are some in the print but it is an almost oriental looking design. Eventually it did make a special dress which may show up later. I wish I had kept it. 

Memoir Monday, March 18, 1966

Finally I got well and up again. Life goes on. I went with it as best I could. This was both a good day in some ways and also a hard one. I was still very raw from the loss of Tina and knew B&B 6 was going to leave soon and dreaded that ...  I had not been able to see Dusty for well over a week.

March 18, 1966 Friday

Life goes on, though. The sun comes up this morning and I am still here to see it. And now that it has set, I am glad I was alive today. We talked after breakfast and all went to the pasture about 11:00 and did the chores. When we got back I saddled Buzzie and went up for mail and led Lyno around a little. I was afraid the outfit was moving but couldn’t quite make myself go over. So I fed. Charlie Mike and I had a PB sandwich and then went to work on the feedbox for Leo. He took a side trip and I waited fretfully. Finally he got back about 2:45. Yes, they are moving and Dusty was working alone. So I hopped on Buzzie bareback and hustled. I slipped up and surprised him. He was working frantically to get things tied down but looked up to smile quizzically at me. “You’re liable to get shot that way.” he said.  I felt a little bit in the way but watched as he worked. He gave me some gum, a Pepsi and a tiny box of candy. Finally I said I’d better go and that he’d just been going back and forth like I wasn’t there. He turned around and we stood in the corridor door and talked. I flung myself into his arms for a moment and he held me with a fierce tenderness and then loosened his embrace to hold me at arms length. He said first he had to try to win Johnny’s respect and make him understand and arrange real custody. After that, he said “I’ll come after you.” I promised I’d be waiting and behave myself. We kept telling each other to be good and be careful. He gave me a half-sideways kiss or three around my fever blister and finally I said “I love you and goodbye.” “I love you too.” I scrambled down ignoring the cook car steps. “I have to do things the hard way.” We swore there would be a next time and never a last time and a lot of other small senseless and large important promises such as lovers make. B&B 6 is moving to Drake for about a month (I’ll say two knowing how things go). 

I came hurrying home and helped with the fed box. Actually I just did it. I’m so much better at doing things like that  and accomplishing things than Mom is or Charlie Mike, either one. They went out to the pasture and I did the home chores alone. Ran over to the outfit but it was deserted. Tomorrow all the cars will be gone and Dusty won’t be back in Clarkdale on Monday morning. I left a note under the door “Came back to say goodbye but you were gone. I love you always.”  So that will be waiting for him when he gets in Sunday night or Monday.  He had said, “Now I’ll have to write you once in awhile.” I’ll write faithfully once a week unless hell bars the way. I had told him about Tina and he was sorry for me. And the pain in his voice talking about Johnny left an ache in me. It will be hard to get used to his being gone.  As I said, “It will be awfully empty around here now.”  The Verde Valley now holds no charm for me. My last two links are broken. And yet--he met me here and loved me here. He loves me dirty and sweaty and tired, just as I was today. And I love him all ways, always. I’ll be waiting somewhere.

I think Mom and Dad had gone to either Prescott or Flagstaff and took Alex with them so Charlie Mike and I were doing normal work. I'm not sure why he was not at school that day. Anyway we had plenty to do. I was still wanting to know but afraid to find out if B&B 6 was going to leave so he ran over to see.  I think I knew the answer anyway but that jump-started me. I had to go then and see Dusty if it was to be the last time for awhile.

Cliche to say "Parting is such sweet sorrow" but it was. I had known this day would come as they had been there for eight months. The job was done but I was not ready... There was something so real and truthful to me when he said "I'll come after you."  I took those simple and direct words as a promise and considered myself betrothed or promised from that day on. I kept it for five years although fate ultimately had other plans.

What else is there to comment on or explain? I think this stands alone. Not many photos either.  Buzzie since she was now my "main mare" and an older shot of Dusty just because. First Charlie Mike with Buzzie. About this time (early 66) as he had been growing; he'd. passed my height.  He was 15 now. Then Dusty with a kind of sassy look--he was teasing me as he often did once we were comfortable with each other.  And then the Clarkdale rail yard with the empty spur track (view side of the road to the smelter area). where work trains parked when they were in town. It looked so lonely from this day on... The local took B&B 6 out the next day.  The date--blurred--on the lower corner is not right.

Monday Memoir, March 11, 1966

This was the start of several bad, sad and hard weeks. I can get a bit teary and even mad now remembering but they are water long over the dam or under the bridge and really even the trauma has long since faded. The scars were deep but mostly they healed well over time. 

March 11, 1966

I was sick all this week with the flu, tonsillitis and strep throat and came within a very narrow ace of going out like a light more than once. I got up today (the 11th) with a fever and had to open my big mouth and foul things up so by 10:30 I was in bed instead of on the road to Cottonwood.  I wrote Dusty a fast frantic note but he was gone before Charlie Mike got it delivered so on  up to the post office. That evening I nearly took a baker’s dozen of aspirin and went to sleep--a very long sleep--with his picture in my hand.  But that‘s a silly theatrical gesture and worthless. Before the week ended, the Boss nearly eloped off with the boys--I mean things got pretty hairy. Still ill, I was rather peripheral to the main kerfuffle but it was discouraging to say the  least.

Then on Thursday the 16^th, Tina went to sleep and I had not gotten out there to talk to her, to encourage or try to help her.  I got sick at a hell of a bad time. I can’t help but think if the folks had squared up and settled their disputes that she could have been saved but I know it is partly my fault too. In a way that breaks my last link with the past. I really could walk off now and not feel that I was leaving much at all. But I do have Little Dusty because I chose him instead of Rico, I don’t have anything of Tina at all except memories and that’s the way I want it, really. I truly loved her. She won’t suffer any longer and few horses were ever loved more. Rest in peace, Chiquita Mia. Until  I see you again someday

At this period, the folks were bickering and fighting all the time and the damn lawsuits were the biggest issue and source of trouble.. I usually felt my health was of small concern but somehow the old practice that if one had a fever they had to be in bed seemed to linger. I might have gotten up and gone on but then might have ended up in really bad shape, too. I was sick.  Anyway, them having to pick up the absolutely necessary part of the chores--animals had to at least have feed and water--was an unwelcome burden and not done cheerfully for sure. Charlie Mike was in school and either did not volunteer to stay home and do more or they did not insist on it. I cannot recall. 

Learning Tina had died almost broke me. She had been a key part of my life for ten years and left a huge hole that was never really filled. I did not bond with the colts as I had with her which may have been wrong but there were some other issues involved. Sadly, I did  not have Little Dusty much longer either but that tale is for a few weeks ahead. 

Really Tina had not been well since getting sick after Rico was born in April 1965. I know I came close to losing her several times. She was only 11 which is not old for a horse but things began to go wrong for her. Having two colts in two years as an older mare was too much and then being bred again when she seemed to recover after Rico was insanity. In that I do take some blame; I truly did not know better and listened wrongly to Dad who probably knew really very little more about horses and other animals than I did, if the truth be told. But he was an "expert"--yeah, right. So she died. No, very few horses were ever loved more and as I could, I always took as good care of her as was possible. I trust she will come to meet me when I get to the other side as my many dogs will and maybe some more horses, mules and donkeys I had invested a lot of myself in those years. This was an end of an era in many ways with a few more anti-climax events still to come. But a big cable began to fray. 

The only possible pictures here are of her. They end up in kind of reverse order.. The first is with Bravo when he was a few weeks old. Charlie Mike is with them. Next is Tina with Rico, her second colt. Then she herself probably between the two little ones, showing her thoroughbred look, tall and lean despite some added bulk from foaling. Then a favorite shot of me with her --about 3 years old then and such a good rough-country horse and so steady for hunting, and any work asked of her. I have a painting a dear friend made from this photo.  Then as a two year old, summer 1957, not long before she accidentally broke Charlie  Mike's left leg.  Then as she was being trained; there was never any 'breaking' required. She seemed to be born knowing how to be a good saddle horse and cow-pony. And finally, February 1956 when she had just come home to be mine. What special memories of this great blessing of a once-in-a-lifetime horse. It was an honor to have her for ten wonderful years. 

Memoir Monday, March 4, 1966 Fri

 With the added leap year day, we now move the corresponding days from Saturday to Friday. More or less interesting? Big Shrug ~ Mostly not much different. This one slid by fairly easy but it was the last to do so for some time.

March 4, 1966

Today was pretty good. At least Dusty and I got together. I got up reluctantly and went down to feed. We wasted no time on confabs this morning and Mom and I were back from the pasture by 10:00. I saddled Annie, watered quickly and took off for Cottonwood. I had the fidgets and got my lost filling replaced. I dawdled along home; no sign of Moonspinner so I went uptown for mail. Charlie Mike got a letter from Twyla but that doesn’t help me much.  I rode around down the back way. Barner was still there so I sneaked up and found ‘Spinner was there too. In fact Dusty was preparing to pull the T'bird to start it. So I finally met the infamous Barner face to face. He’s a fink, really. “Maybe that thing can pull me,’ he said, looking at Annie.  I was offended of course. She is no "thing"! Dusty looked up with his eyes suddenly eager and alive but only said,  “What you got there?” rather off-handed. I rode on while they worked around. He caught me by the Y. For a minute I thought he’d go on but he didn’t. He got out and came around the car. “Where are you heading?” “Home” I said, coolly. But I melted quickly. His apology was stumbling but sincere. His eyes probed my face and sought mine as he leaned on Spinner’s top and moved his hands restlessly. He has ‘personal problems’ and still isn’t feeling good but will try to come over next week. I’d like to choke Marie with my bare hands. I used not to mind but I can’t stand it any more. The sly and mean way she does things to make it harder for him. I think of her as a fat bitchy thing. Perhaps she’s not but her image of me is probably not too complimentary either. So we parted, too soon and with too little said but our eyes had told one another “I love you.” It had to be enough for the time and place. I came home, had lunch and saddled Leo to go for a ride. I went up to the plant and came down the highway. He moved out nice and easy. He’s a damn fine horse. I gave Charlie Mike his letter when he got home. He about had a fit. We did the home chores and messed around until the Boss got home. He hadn’t made great progress; these things are always so slow. That’s legal crap for you. I haven’t felt too hot today. Today is 27 days so I really should tonight. I have a suspicious backache so maybe I am. I have not touched my lover since since Feb 11 or even been kissed since the 4^th. I miss him so bad I could flip. I just ached to reach out and touch him today. Apparently things have been pretty rough for him lately. He had to drive to Flag Tuesday night to get his paperwork in and got caught in the storm and a roadblock. My poor sweetie; it breaks me up for him. I spent the evening playing records and writing to him. At least I am reassured he isn’t trying to get rid of me or anything like that. I can sympathize with troubles because I’ve been down that road too. I love him, I really do: day and night and all the time, with all of me that there is to love. Can’t help it and don’t want to. Someday I’ll be glad, gladder.

Barner was a newer young guy on B&B6. He had told Dusty he wanted to meet me and was 'interested', I think not really knowing our relationship.  Dusty duly related that to me but I was not interested even if he did drive a Thunderbird--cannot recall much about the car; I vaguely recall it may have been pink (?) and year maybe 60 or so--nor that he allegedly had a horse. Somehow I thought he was Mormon (LDS) and that did not interest me either.  Then when he referred to my good old Annie mule as "that thing" he drove the last nail in his coffin for me! Twyla was the daughter of a burro crane operator for the ATSF; he had his family along while he worked here for awhile and she and Charlie Mike  got acquainted and corresponded after they left.

Dusty was having a  lot of problems over Johnny and the negative influences his mother exerted and her whole attitude of being n longer married except for the income and other tasks he was supposed to do but he still was as far as independence went or even having a separate life...legally yes, I suppose, but separated is separated!! 

I had been riding and training Leo for some time. Probably spent less time on him than on the two young mares, Buzzie and Lyno, but he had come along very well and was becoming  good reliable horse though still a stallion. He had a power and drive that the mares did not have which I enjoyed.He was fun to ride and you could feel his controlled energy. 

Dad had gone to Prescott, having recently begun dealing with another (a new) attorney on a zillion different lawsuits and issues he was pursuing, always expecting a good settlement and almost a public apology for all the evil acts and damages he had suffered. Immaterial that the family was impacted too and I suppose might have benefited if anyof it ever worked out though of course it did not. But it was always first and mostly about him. No wonder I get some PTSD flashbacks when I hear some of the rhetoric of our former President and his incredible situations--it sounds way too familiar. Charlie Mike and I both get upset about all that. 

Well, what for photos?  An old shot with Annie under saddle. She was not especially photogenic but she was a good reliable mule and I used her a lot with pleasure. She was generally steady and also willing. Of course Leo was one of my favorites. He was early in his training here so probably '65 rather than '66. He was a good looking horse, pretty much classic middle-of-the-road (not super bulked up or very lean for racing) old line type Quarter Horse look.  His color was distinctive, basically gray but with a hint of buckskin and blue roan, both subtle in his undercoat.

Monday Memoir, Feb 26, 1966

 

The excrement had not yet started to really hit the oscillator  but that was coming.  Maybe I was or am slightly clairvoyant but I sensed the pressure building. I was still trying to stay calm, cool and focused on just the events of each day as it came. Borrowing trouble never helps and worry is useless, really. So keep on keeping on...

Feb 26, 1966, Sat

Just another day. A rather bad one weather-wise but otherwise okay. Woke up with a sore throat which plagued me all day. I staggered reluctantly out to feed. Mom drove Charlie Mike and me out to do the morning chores. We got rained on some. That’s our lousy luck. I walked uptown for mail and bought some thread. I hoped I’d hear from Dusty but no such luck. I did get a letter from Evelyn though. Charlie Mike was sorting and took my whole room up most of the day. I was a little disgusted; couldn’t really do anything all day. Hauled hay down and did the noon chores. After lunch had to go see Peckham. We didn’t  really cover much ground today. I’m beginning to think it’s all a waste of time. What is the purpose of it? Got groceries and butane and came home under a clearing sky. But after the home chores were done another squall came along just in time to catch us at the pasture. And then it cleared again. I could’ve flipped but to what avail? I sorted and squared up my stuff some and wrote Evelyn after supper. I’ve got a cold and feel pretty raunchy. If I wanted to let myself go, I could get awfully disgusted with everything but I won’t. I am a little worried about Dusty; guess that is the flea for this bitch to bite.  He hasn’t been feeling well. I know I probably ought to walk out on him…stomp, stomp, stomp. “Anita, you’re dreaming.” I like to suffer I guess. How come all the psychology and psychiatric stuff ends up on sex?  I think sex is overrated, really. It’s sure a damn nuisance. Oh shit. That’s my favorite expression nowadays. I guess I am rebelling, don’t you? Don’t figure quite where Dusty fits…no accounting for love is there?

I may sound a bit jaded or cynical here. You think? Well, I was two months from turning 23 and felt I was in a deep hole. I tried to stop digging but life wasn't giving me a lot of help. So I kept on keeping on for want of any other possibility. 

Dusty had asthma and had it all his life. Stress would make it worse and getting too tired, being out in the cold, especially damp etc did too. He was striving not to get to the point of having to take medical leave or anything and I did worry. Was not able to see him often or much at this time and that was hard. I know he tried like on Friday afternoons but I could not always be out and about. 

I wrote notes and letters often, he not so much. Well I could understand that too--time and what to say, why try as it was hard for him when we *might* cross paths any day...but at times it did bother me a bit so my old insecurity and "was it my fault?" worries would kick in. "Anita, You're Dreaming" was a song on the C&W list at that time; forget who sang it but it was a sad no-happy-ending one.... OK. it was Waylon's song, partly written by him and released that year--just checked. Not one of his more popular ones but nearly fit my situation in some ways. Ouch. No beer to cry in. 

I felt a shadow coming close, inexorable. .March and April were full of really difficult and painful times and I sensed that but did not foresee most of the whys and wherefores. Well, I knew B&B6 would be pulling out soon for one and dreaded that very much.  I'll get to all those things in due time as we go on.

Pictures? Just work and horses and mules and wet weather and ...like I said then "Oh shit!" So just toss in few oldies for 'tax' of sorts.  First, Charlie Mike and me in the junked up back yard, probably a year or two earlier. Not sure which mule. Then at the pasture. The mule under saddle is Annie who I rode a great deal. And then Charlie Mike on Prez. We both rode this big old guy a lot and loved him although he could be a bit 'mulish' at times. That big truck was our F750. It got a lot of use hauling--wood, hay, stock... We called it Big Green. Five speed (?) split axle and all--I drove it very little and Mom would not even try. 

MondayMemoir, Feb 19, 1966

 

Odd that the day actually falls on Mom's birthday. I will mention it elsewhere on FB but here it is part of the narrative for the date. Let's see, she would have been 46.  At this point nobody's birthday got much noted. I tried and Charlie Mike too to at least let Alex have a little special--he would be 7 in May.  We were past caring for our own. 

Feb 19, 1966 Sat

Just an ordinary Saturday. I don’t especially care for weekends. It was Mom’s birthday but we didn’t make much of it. B’days really don’t matter much. I’m going to ignore mine this year. “They” had conflicts most of the day. Charlie Mike and I rode. We bought Mom a big chocolate bar and after lunch I did the dishes and made a cake while she was in Cottonwood talking to Peckham. I drove for Dad in the afternoon and did pretty raunchy because I was all tensed up. He was pretty reasonable and helpful about it, though. I finally finished my letter to Judy and it got late pretty quick. I only wrote twenty pages to Judy. We trimmed Little Dusty today. He is a doll but awfully high strung.

I actually do not recall what the fussing was about--maybe just same crap, different day, but Mom and Dad were gnawing at each other most of the day. Charlie Mike and I tried to make ourselves scarce in such cases. So we had either driven or ridden out to do the chores and then were  exercises most of the animals we had there in Clarkdale.

Dad had not been going to the pasture a lot but for some reason went that evening and did not take the wheel, which surprised me. I was nervous and expected every gritted gear or jerky motion would be 'discussed' but that did not happen. Sometimes I swear he had a split personality. A dim memory comes that he got over being peeved with Mom and told her to stay home and relax or something and then was very mellow with my still amateurish driving, suggested a thing or two, but no yelling or bawling out!

Little Dusty was the buckskin colt the buckskin mare from Gallup had the summer of 1965. He was now of course weaned and often in a pen now with Tina's second colt, Rico.  This day we trimmed his feet and generally worked on him some. I had been leading him for exercise and socializing most days. He had a very sweet nature, a gentle colt from the first and a real pet of mine.

Photos:  The first is Little Dusty--early fall of 1965 I think. He was then several months old. I have no later photos of him and am not sure why.  Then two of Mom about this time, probably a few years earlier. She was showing her age some but still sweet faced and some of her youthful beauty was still there. For a time along here I took few pictures,  rarely having film and also mostly barely out of chronic depression that got worse as this year went on.  I am sad about that now. I missed some things I would like to have those memory joggers of. C'est la vie. 

Monday Memoir, Feb 12, 1966

 And the relative calm continued. I was fearful of a coming (family) storm and it did hit in awhile but not quite yet. I guess I was blessed to have some time to adjust and regroup after my sudden trip and return. Mostly the weather was not bad along this time.

Feb 12, 1966, Sat

Today was all right--pretty damn good, really. I didn’t accomplish much but that’s beside the point.I got to sleep in this morning. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out and did the chores. We found more pottery and hauled some dirt into the big feedbox. I drove all the way home. I was proud of myself. Mom and I did the washing. It only took us a good hour and it was a whopping big washing, too. Maureen came by about noon. She’s had her hair straightened and was wearing shades and I almost  didn’t know her from anybody!  She seemed friendly enough but I never know for sure what she’s up to anymore. Made it over to the MHC on time. I talked to Peckham about music, writing and my childhood and school years. Fairly safe topics, I guess. Hope so anyway. When we got home I messed around with Charlie Mike til 4:30 and then Mom, he and I drove out again. I gave Scarlet a shot and we did the regular feeding. I drove home again. It isn’t too hard once you get the feel of it. I’m improving steadily I think. We did our home chores and then came in for the evening. I redid my bulletin board, read the Verde Independent and finished the letter to Dusty. Not a great list of accomplishments I admit. But it will have to do for the time being. I’ve got to get some sewing and writing done soon, not to mention my QH data and other studying. There’ll never be enough hours in the day for me. I may as well get used to it. Hope someone is okay. Tomorrow evening maybe he’ll be back. I’ll have a letter waiting for him.

It looks and sounds like a very ordinary day. Mom was allowing or even encouraging me to drive many times to and from the pasture. This was a real boon and I gained confidence almost each trip. Soon driving the stick shift F150 pickup was almost routine. It was more important after a time.  Scarlet was the worthless old mare we had gotten back in September 1964. She never was healthy or reliable and died not long after this. Poor old thing. 

We had been finding pottery shards near a trail that went up to the higher parts of the pasture and the east end fence. I am sure it was from the same culture that built Tuzigoot. By today's rules and standards, maybe we should not have collected it but it seemed all right then. I still have most of it in a jar with my rock and scrap colored glass collections. So come bust me, culture cops!

Maureen was going to NAU at this time--still ASC actually--and it was her fourth(?)  semester. I did not see much of her any more as we were moving off in different directions. Kind of sad as I had valued her friendship a great deal.Have never found her in recent searches. 

I was still seriously studying the Quarter Horse bloodlines and other news in the Quarter Horse Journal and also carrying a few of my own projects forward at this time, without a whole lot of flack. Again, too good to last but enjoyed. Of course Dusty was never far from my thoughts. I saw him much more seldom than we both wished so wrote a lot of letters in lieu of visits and phone calls, which were not possible. Time went on... It was to be six more months as things soon slid abruptly down hill to nearly the worst ever, but eventually my "sentence was commuted." I almost felt I had died and been reborn. If only I had known it was coming, the interim might have been less painful but the final wait  surely made me appreciate the sudden change of life even more. 

So what for pictures? Got zillions but not all are applicable. Okay--best I can do. A dark shot of Scarlet. She was a very ordinary looking mare with no markings to mention--one white foot and a nose snip I think.. Chestnut and no special breed or type.  Next is looking at Tuzigoot from the bluff above the corral area of the pasture. You can see it was not a large distance. Last,  looking at the pasture from the west side of the river--the cliff is kind of a straight line that topped the bluff rim, and the top of it is where the last shot was taken. Near the right edge is where a trail went up and down via a jutting ridge and where we found the pottery.

Memoir Monday, Feb 5, 1966

 I had come to waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had been a few small flare-ups of the familiar "troubles"  but they faded down fairly fast. So I figured when it fell it would be a Size 15 irrigation boot with lots of barnyard attached.  It was hard to do all my work with fingers crossed! At this time I recognized a vague female deity for whom I yet had no real name but I asked Her to continue to protect me.and thanked her for the umbrella thus far.

Feb 5,1966

Everything has been going good. I’m nearly scared to believe it. It just can’t last, I fear, but I can hope! I got up late and lazy this morning; we had biscuits for breakfast and drove out to the pasture to do the chores. We all went and cut off another section of the big cottonwood. Dusty was ‘with’ me all the while. I can see his face so clearly now as it was yesterday with dusty blue eyes half teasing and half tender… Charlie Mike and I did the midday chores hastily and debated who’d go to Prescott. I was selected. We went via Cottonwood where we stopped at the feed store and the clinic. I guess the Boss had a good talk with Peckham (who I heard on the radio yesterday while visiting). We headed over the mountain about 3:00. I bought a shift pattern, a valentine for Dusty and some tampons. I have finally gotten so I can use them. You really have to relax to put one in. I went twenty six days this time. I still have cramps some but not as bad as I used to. We got groceries etc. and came home about 6:30. Charlie Mike had done the home chores so we just had to go to the pasture. We hustled the chores. Had a good supper. I recorded my expenses and such and thought about my sewing projects. I think I can make a shift jumper dress and a gathered skirt from the navy blue material. Then I’ll make a blouse from the butterfly print if I can and two blouses and a skirt from the other blue rose/lace print--one peasant style and one tailored. Then I’ll have a wardrobe of clothes for sure. Maybe I’ll draw them quickly before bedtime but I’m about ready to quit for the night. Love you, Dusty. The valentine I bought cost 36 cents but it is really lovely. He likes roses--had a Jackson & Perkins catalog (the same one Judy sent me) on the counter yesterday. One more thing to add to the list of sharing.

I had managed a good visit with Dusty on Friday. With iffy weather, close tabs on my time and work and no way to get out at night, it did not happen as often as I wished. So every time I could sit and talk a little while was a treasure. He was still saying I should have stayed in CA and I knew that was probably true but we still were both glad to be able to share a moment here and there. He wanted to be sure I did not get in trouble over it. 

I can't recall Dad talking to Peckham again but I guess he did. Why he did not come out in a snarling fit and tantrum I have no idea! Maybe after hearing more from Mom and a bit from me, the counselor knew what not to say or how to say things that would not seem offensive. Dad did NOT want anyone telling him how to do anything and that certainly included dealing with the family. Hmmm. Wondering now about that. 

Going to Prescott was really not a huge treat but I took advantage of it since I still had a little money to spend. I had put most of what I came home with in secret savings (I had both checking and savings in my name only) but was glad to be able to buy a thing or two now and then. It was also a relief to stop using the awkward belt and pads each month. I never went back to that!

My old paper-doll-making practice had mostly morphed into design work. I sketched ideas and sometimes did really use one of the dolls to trace around and then color and detail a project. I had five yards of the blue print I mentioned and did as I had planned out. Or maybe no; I know there was a peasant style blouse, but I think it may have become a dress--full skirt and fitted waist with scoop neck rather than a skirt and no tailored blouse in that fabric--would not look right..   The butterfly print,I can barely recall. I had made a shirt in an orange-red butterfly print Grandma gave me, but that was earlier. The navy blue did make a gathered skirt and simple straight sleeveless dress.  For a tomboy cowboy girl I did love clothes and rather feminine styles too.And I made new things whenever I could even if they were aarely worn.

Relative to that morning, we had earlier cut down a big cottonwood tree that was mostly dying and although it is punky wood that does not burn clean, it was heat. We cut slabs maybe a foot to eighteen inches in height and split them with wedges; that was a task Charlie Mike and I did a lot. We used a single jack or sort handled sledge hammer and drive old ax heads for wedges to split off chunks.  It was hard to get up to Mingus to get better wood at this point so we made do. We were not living 'high on the hog' at this time!

Odd photos:  Me wearing the butterfly shirt I mentioned. It was a favorite. The blue print fabric--here in a quilt square. The fabric used in the shirt, again in a quilt square, and last, a bit of the fabric I used to make matching shirts for Dusty and me. I thought it was so pretty! This was in a scrapbook. I find many reminders of projects in the first quilt I completed after Jim died and a smaller one that I use for a lap and nap robe. And then the larger quilt just after I finished it--half of the front of it.