Monday Memoir, Jan 29, 1966

 Already the interlude of being gone was fading to a dim memory. I was back fully into the cowboy girl life and a daily routine similar to what I had lived from June 2, 1962 on. So far the big half-day talks had not resumed and I was properly grateful for that. I did all I could not to invite any of them. The relief was short though.

Jan 29, 1966

Got up about 7:45 and had breakfast. Mom, Charlie Mike and I drove out to do the morning chores. It all went off fairly quickly and well. When we go back we talked a little and then I went out to saddle up Frosty. He was a little nervous but reasonably cooperative. He was high for about ten minutes and would have pitched a little if I had let him but a few little climbs took it right out of him. He went right into his running walk in a few minutes and never refused a thing. Nuanez came about noon with his sons. He really liked Frosty but did not have any money right now. He just loves Buckshot-Tony and Patrick and may be able to buy Frosty in a few weeks. I had to go talk to Peckham in the afternoon. Well, at least I got a bath out of it. He kind of bugs me. I said my main goal or ambition was to get married and raise a family and he was surprised. I said I was currently going with a construction worker a few years older. What he thought of that I can’t say! Ugh, I rather wish we’d stayed clear of that but it’s too late now. The ditcher gang is Fleetrunner, all right. We went out to feed again and did up the home chores. I spent the evening reading Western Horseman. I am going to really work with Frosty, Buzzie and Leo on reining in the next few weeks. I sure hope it does not storm but I guess we are due for one soon. It’s not too late but I feel awfully wheezy so I suppose I’d better get on to bed promptly. And dream of Dusty again. I did last night. We drove down by old F.C. Hill’s and parked on a semi-rainy moonlit night. It was one of those ‘real’ dreams where you can feel the warmth of each touch and everything. I am much less reserved about expressing affection since Dusty taught me the magic of touching.

Frosty was Elaine Stoos's young appaloosa gelding. I had brought him home to try and attempt to sell a few days earlier. I do not think he was one of Chief's colts although now I am not totally sure. No, he was too old for that come to think of it. Al Nuanez was the stable manager at the Verde Valley School and he had bought Patrick and Tonalea/Buckshot the previous fall. 

Why we continued going to the family counselling clinic I am not sure but we did. Well, mostly Mom and me. I do not think Charlie Mike ever did and Dad went seldom! He was not enthused about it. LOL. I tended to throw different info into our conversations each session as I had come to be disillusioned with the whole thing.  Keep 'em guessing!? In the end there was one positive result anyway for which in time I was grateful.

A ditcher is another specialized piece of RR maintenance equipment and is a type of crane/shovel machine mounted on a flat car that cleans along trackside and at washout or landslide problems.There is normally a small work train with the operator and maybe a helper or two at most, one living car and the equipment, maybe a fuel tank. As I corrected in a few days, this operator was a Native American man correctly named Footracer rather than Fleetrunner. Tribe unknown as I never met or saw him up close but think Charlie Mike spoke to him a time or two. They were not in Clarkdale long. 

Dredging up photos...  I do not think this is Frosty as it looks like a mare but he was marked similarly. And was a rather short and stocky colt. Next a photo of either that ditcher work train or another in the Clarkdale yard about that time. You cannot see much from it. The last is the loading tower where limestone dust from the plant was loaded into trucks for transport but a work train--maybe ditcher-- shows in the background.  

Monday Memoir Jan 22, 1966

Back in Arizona for close to two weeks. It had not gotten too real and earnest yet but a few hints began to appear. I tried to ignore or just let them roll off. For awhile that worked pretty well.  

Jan 22, 1966

Got up reluctantly because it was chilly and ate. I “got” to stay home this morning so I went to work on Dusty’s shirt while the dish water was heating. It is really going to be awfully neat if I can just keep from making any dumb boo-boos on it. My original design is pretty sharp. When the folks got back from the pasture, the Boss and I went over to look at Kitty’s black Val. He is a bit feisty. We stopped to talk to her and her husband. His name is Ray Meecham and he seems like a nice guy. We looked at Elaine’s appy on our way home. Guess they are both worth trying to get. We had lunch. Charlie Mike had done the noon chores. I wasted the afternoon. Charlie Mike and I hiked over and visited the outfit. The new “bunk car” is really going to need some refurbishing.  They fixed the cook car up real nice though. Dusty has some boys that are clever carpenters. Of course he is one himself. We got the evening chores done up OK. I worked a bit more on the shirt too. Didn’t do much through the evening. I don’t feel too good. My upper right twelve year molar is being pushed out by the wisdom tooth. It’s really painful. I’m afraid it will have to come out. Damn, that’s lousy. Manana we’ve got a lot of fetching and carrying to do so since it is 10:30 I’d best trot off to bed PDQ. That’s really my favorite place anymore for there I can dream in peace knowing I am not in danger from being inattentive or wasting time. I’ve to get hold of myself and hit it harder, I reckon. The idea sticks a little but it really is the only answer. I  just have three ‘private’ projects. Finish Dusty’s shirt, finish my story up to date and get a few letters answered. I have to do them in snatches. Another hour would finish the shirt, probably. The others aren’t urgent.

The old pre-break routine of trying to work deals and 'sell' was back in play but for the moment Dad was doing a bit more and not insisting that Mom and I or even Charlie Mike pick up all the slack.  That didn't last as other issues moved to the fore for his attention as we were not bringing in much cash and still spending for feed and all so an effort was essential. (Lawsuit shit mostly)  Kitty and Ray Meecham were a local young couple kind of into horses and stuff. We had tried to trade or exchange first Patrick, Ginger and then one of the other trained horses for their colts that were a bit feisty. Same for Elaine Stoos, who was kind of friends with Maureen. 

I did not feel I had done so badly in the past six months but was now trying to really maintain my end and not leave any openings for tirades and harangues.  Good luck there LOL but I worked at keeping my head out of any daydream clouds and being low key on my personal projects to stay 'under the radar' as much as possible. Sewing was usually okay since I did a lot of patching and repairs and my making western shirts was never a big issue.  I had given some to friends and pen pals and made some for Dad and Charlie Mike too.  My project for Dusty was thus not anything to draw attention. 

What was projected for Sunday I do  not recall without going back and reading. Probably getting some hay--we got big loads when possible like from Phoenix but then filled in with pickup loads wherever we could snag a few bales here and there.I know that is not the best way to feed horses, especially hot blooded high stung ones. Colic and problems happen when you do not gradually blend over from one sort of feed to another which was often not possible. Even then I knew that but what could I do to fix it? Damn little. 

Pictures? Gee, I really do not have anything applicable but I'll grab something. Okay I will be mentioning driving to the pasture frequently. This view from the hills west of the highway shows part of the route. It went past the SW end of Peck's Lake and up a hill and then curved to go south to Tuzigoot, around the monument to the north east end and down the back to a gate and then around part of the Tavasci area and turned east and back south thru a cattle guard to the pasture area. That part is kinda visible in the newer color shot taken from Tuzigoot. The last is the corrals at Clarkdale. I think it did snow a time or two after I got back that spring. And that would always be a mess and hassle!

Memoir Monday, Jan 15, 1966

 So I was back in Arizona, my vaca-scape  (think vacation and escape morphed) of nearly a month ended. I had healed a lot in that time, at least at surface or superficial levels. I had been very worried about returning but to start it seemed I was the prodigal daughter and if not actually feted and treated at least was shown enough favor and respect that for a time I was very optimistic. Of course somewhere inside I suspected it all was too good to last, and it was, but for maybe 6 weeks and even a bit longer part of the time, I felt I had made progress and won some points. Then almost abruptly, things doubled down very savagely. 

Jan 15, 1966

Another busy day, a mixture of good and bad as most of them are. I kept busy as usual. We talked some. The folks went out.  I walked uptown and mailed Dusty’s letter and poems. Mom told me my confession upset Dad. I really never can tell when to believe what he says. I can’t blame him for it, but it is painful. I tried to encourage him though and perhaps succeeded in part. We had lunch and cleaned up to go over to the clinic. We’d planned that Mom and I would go in together but Mr Peckham called me in first alone. I think I did a fairly good job. He still says that it’s very important for me to do some things on my own but admits he was a bit hasty about encouraging me to leave. I said I found the city wasn’t my cup of tea and was glad to have that curiosity or doubt settled. It’s doubtful that we’re making much progress but one must try, I suppose. It looked quite stormy this pm which was disgusting to me. I’ve had all the bad weather I need. I made an applesauce cake and a casserole for supper and helped Charlie Mike do the chores here. Also did dishes after supper. We played records and I planned some sewing projects. I decided I’d try a shift out of the red plaid material that once was a pleated skirt. We went to bed about 10:30, I with Dusty on my mind. I dreamed he followed me down the trail and I held a hand back to him. He came up and put his arms around me with a sigh and I leaned back against him and tried to kiss him over my shoulder but couldn’t quite reach. But I could feel his nose against mine and my cheek, just as real as in life. Dreams can be so weird. I never really dreamed of being kissed until after I had been. A few nights ago (Monday evening?) I dreamed of him kissing me and woke up shaking, it was so real. A week ago I was in Blythe or Needles about now. God, it seems impossible.

I got home on the 10th, which was a Monday and the first few days passed quickly. I did not do any 'chores' but picked up most of the routine household tasks like cooking and dish washing. We went back up to Flagstaff to get the boxes and heavy luggage I had put in lockers at the depot and then to the Clarkdale station which handled local REA*  for boxes that had been shipped--food, clothing and other stuff  the aunts had gathered which was allegedly to help the folks. (*REA is Railroad Express Agency)

Wednesday while the folks went out to do the pasture chores I biked over to B&B 6 and spent a short while with Dusty. He chided me for not staying and going to school but was very glad to see me.  I hurried home to avoid any issues. Around that same time in a mostly fairly mild 'talk,' I was forced to admit Dusty had driven me to Flagstaff. There were no immediate fireworks but I later realized this was yet another ''charge, crime or sin" to be held against my sweetheart. No doubt--Dad totally hated him.

I was making a huge effort to keep calm, cool and not let things get to me. The partial healing did help me there quite a bit and learning the contrast between what the folks, mostly Dad, said and what the kinfolk in California believed and their unfavorable feelings and impressions had caused some serious erosion in my total acceptance of the enmeshed family story and stance. I would never buy all of it whole cloth again.That detachment was a saving grace as time went on.  

On my sewing, Aunt Roxie supported my hobby or efforts there and took me shopping where I got several lengths of fabric that came home with me. Over several months I put it all to good use as well as redoing some older garments to new styles. The first was a pair of matching western shirts for Dusty and me. He got his for Valentine's Day. 

So for the time being, life went on about as smooth and easily as it possible could. Did that make what came later easier or harder? Perhaps a bit of both. But I never came quite that close to murder or self-destruction (as on Nov 30-Dec 1) again, despite some very low lows. 

A very few pictures:  First, perhaps not the best match but Dusty really did resemble Steve McQueen.  Just 'cause--Leo was one of my horse faves and was with me until spring 1968. And a bit of the red plaid, which I had picked in Sacramento and even then knew I would use to make matching shirts for us. Wish I had pix of them but do not; I had mine for quite awhile though. That swatch is on a page in a scrap book and I think it is in one block on my 1st special quilt that is on my bed now.

Memoir Monday, Jan 8, 1966

I was only hours away from going back to Arizona but this was a special day and a cherished memory.  I was to return to the city by the bay several times in the next decade or two under a variety of circumstances but this was the first visit. and I was very impressed!

Jan 8, 1966

I left my heart in San Francisco! No, it is actually still with the Circle Cross but I won’t ever forget the Golden Gate City. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful trip. We left about 9:00 armed with a lunch and assorted other goodies. The Sacramento Valley is broad and lushly green, the rolling green California mountains are lovely too. My first view of the ocean was on a street that we crossed on a toll bridge. It looked gray and stormy. I saw San Francisco first through broken fog. It looked like a toy city, like a Mediterranean city flung on the hillsides hanging above the ocean, a fairy island in the fog, --like San Francisco. We drove all over it, so to speak,. The hills are fantastic. The houses are painted in wild pastels and built wall to wall. most two or three stories. San Francisco is a high rise city almost entirely. We ate at a Chinese restaurant; it was good food but almost too much. We drove along the ocean. It was gray and stormy and the waves were battering and tossing against the beach. The ocean would make me restless and lonely. I don’t think I’d like to live on the shore. We drove across the two big bridges, went through the museum etc. and then went up the coast.

We came home by Napa and Petaluma. At Napa we stopped to eat at a pancake house. Law enforcement people kept drifting in and out. One deputy sheriff took my breath away because he looked so much like Dusty. I really could have dropped my teeth or something. We stopped by Davis on our way back to visit Steve. He had a girl friend there who was drinking beer and she had a panic and escaped. We tidied the place a bit and left about 10:20 or so. Got home finally at midnight. I had a letter from Judy at Grace and Ruth’s and one from Charlie Mike at Roxie’s. It was a doozy. It upset me some but I tried to calm down.. I made some preliminary stabs at packing and finally washed up and fell into bed at 1:00 with frantic swirls of the days’ events and impressions spinning in my head. I had to will myself firmly to relax and go to sleep but sleep was still restless/ Too much food and to little exercise and too many worries mostly. That is enough to bother even a husky character, I guess. And although I have gained considerable weight I am still  not too husky!

One thing--I’m a little late this time--so far and I was a little short last time. Well, I won’t worry. But I have gained so much weight so fast and all it rather makes me wonder just a bit. Wouldn’t it be weird if I go back and then I am PG? But I think it is unlikely. If I were, I’ll just go ahead and work as if I was okay until it shows. I’ve made my ever lovin’ mind on that. I’d have Dusty’s baby just like I promised. There is no going back on that, not ever.

By now I had heard once from Dusty and he advised me to stay and go to college and warned that things would not be better if I came back. I knew that was true but as I tried to explain to him, it was just something an inner sense told me I had to do. So he was not surprised when I was back before long. He bawled me out but was also very glad to see me. I think he'd felt when he put me on that train that he might never see me again. And we had discussed earlier that I would never consider not having his child if I did become pregnant. He was not in favor of that happening when we were not able to do it the right way,  but I promised him no child of mine--or his--would ever be "gotten rid of." It was considerably later that I learned any pregnancy was a very unlikely event for me.

I laugh--we took food along but stopped and ate at least twice. The Morgan "girls" were rather foodaholics, I think, and their plumpness proved that.  That last letter from Charlie Mike gave me second thoughts but I still 'knew' I had to go back. What would happen would happen. I had to do it. The next day I caught the eastbound SF Chief mid-afternoon at Stockton. 

 A few very poor photos that I took about this time. The apartment at Davis where Larry and Steve lived. A view from Golden Gate Park, one side of the big museum building. The ocean--just a gray rolling span that blurred into the clouds. And a ship at the Port Of Sacramento. Moderate ocean-going ships came up the river to there from the coast.