Memoir Monday, Nov 7, 1964

 I got a slight reprieve on B&B 6's departure date. I had sent a note to Dusty by Charlie Mike early Thursday, Nov 5. I was afraid we were going to make a trip on Friday and that would be their last day. He met me in the canyon shortly after lunch where I had one or two animals grazing.  He told me the outfit would be pulled out by the Local (the Prescott Local which usually came Tues and Sat.) when it came Tuesday and that would be their last day here. Anyway, we got a good hour or more of talking and I was reassured we would not say a final goodbye that day or Tuesday.. He wanted me to write, giving me a Santa Fe address, and promised he'd answer. We stayed clear of the L word and anything of committment, but I felt sure this was not the end.

Nov 7, 1964, Sat

I got up at 7:00 and did the home chores. I led Chief out and we bred Susie, put “Dingbat” in the trailer, did our regular chores and cut a little firewood. And finally came home.We worked on that little red colt and he learns darn quick. We put him in with Bravo and Junior and they seem to get along okay. I watered everyone, did the noon chores and ate. Then took Chief and Annie up the canyon. I wrote a bit on the “unfinished story” and rested. Charlie Mike ran up and got my letters--Mary Corley and Ray Ary. At 4:00 we put the stock up and loaded equipment to go doctor Dynamite. She has been sick for several days with an apparent chronic colic. She was actually fairly docile about it all. Hope she pulls through it okay even if we have never done much with her. She’s been here a long time. I spent the evening writing a final letter to Dusty. I don’t know when I’ll give it to him and my little trinket, but I will. Wonder if he’ll come back tomorrow afternoon? Maybe. But I’ll see him on Monday and/or Tuesday for sure. He said he’ll be around on Tuesday afternoon. He wants to say goodbye as much as I do. Dearest Dusty, I’ve all but confessed now. I’ll tell you I love you at least in this letter, and then maybe you can tell me something besides “I think too damn much of you under the circumstances.” My dearest Dusty, I do love you.

This Saturday was a normal busy day with stock work. It was still mild but a hint of winter coming was in the air. Not there yet, though. To refresh my readers' memories, Chief was our Appaloosa stallion and Suzie the paint mare we had acquired with him. She had foaled a paint filly the previous late winter that we named Ginger. Ginger was now weaned and I think at Clarkdale. Dingbat was the six month old  colt of the mare Peppy we had acquired in September from Gallup NM. He was semi-weaned when he came, and it was time to start some basic training, though at that age far from riding-ready. Bravo was Tina's first colt, born early that spring and Junior was a young burro, about the third foal of Jennyfur. The 'boys' got along okay, still far from mature, and shared a pen. Dynamite was a mule we'd had a long time, since early in 1959. She never was fully broke or trained. For some reason she did not fit in well with the larger mule herd normally led by Tina or Queenie and got the poor leavings of the feed. I think she had eaten some moldy bad hay and got an impaction. We almost lost her. but she pulled through it.

Mary Corley was a pen pal I wrote to for some time and Ray Ary was too. I do not recall much about him--he was never significant--and I probably quit writing to her about the time I left home, fall 1966. 

Letters were still my main social outlet, that and seeing Dusty, of course. I often wrote letters or notes to him too when we did not get together. I had been pretty much head over heels for a few weeks by now and became almost grief stricken to think he'd be leaving and we'd lose contact. I thought he had grown to care for me but my old lack of confidence made me afraid to trust that intuitive feeling. I knew he had difficulty with writing and had seen that from the few notes he had written me. He was certainly not slow or intellectually challenged but he was a high school dropout, mildly dyslexic and left handed--which was not treated well in school as he was growing up. He had gotten into some trouble in his mid-late teens and as was often done then, any juvenile punishment was waived if the youth in question went in the service since there was a war going on. His adopted mom signed for him and he was off to the navy in 1940 at not quite 17.

This weekend I was looking ahead to the both dreaded and anticipated final day. As it went, we saw each other rarely for many months but I wrote faithfully and he answered surprisingly often under the circumstances. Those letters became my lifeline.

So a few mostly work pictures...which I have more of than anything else at this point! First is me about that time, probably going to Prescott to be dressed up. I had made the shirt and it was a favorite as I felt it came out nice. It was red-orange color with butterflies in a print.  Next is young Dingbat (really Ding Bob). It is probably Bravo behind him but I cannot tell. And there's Annie saddled in the background. Last I'm leading Chief with Annie--something I did many, many times! It is odd I had the hackamore bit on her; not sure why. Convenience maybe.