Memoir Monday, July 18 1963

What should have been here!! 

July 18, 1963

We got up pretty early and began what was to be a pretty long day. I fed and ate and then we drove out to the pasture. The ponies weren’t too easy to load but we did and got them loaded okay. Dad and Charlie Mike took off and Mom, Alex and I came home, We led up the ponies and then I went to town for mail, groceries etc. I napped before lunch and then afterwards went down to feed. Happy was showing some signs of colic, I watched her all afternoon but she didn’t have any more distress so I quit worrying about her. I finished Judy’s letters and then packed up my records. I’ll have to return them now. At 5:00 I began my chores. Annie and I rode out and did those chores. Dad got back just as I finished. He brought Leo Mix and a buckskin Poco Bueno mare. I sure like Leo Mix’s looks, He looks like Annie Gann and they took up with each other right off. Well I guess I’d better go. I’m late and am really shot. Cheers! 

A few brief  notes:  I had joined the RCA Vicotor record club afer Mom got me a small phonograph. They had a good plan with bonus freebies for the ones you actually bought but at times I could not make a payment and had to return some. We had taken some young Quarter horses on consignment and a coupl went back to Paul Babbitt, the dealer. We got the young stallion Leo Mix and a two year old mare this time. Annie Gann was two also and a full sister of Leo Mix. They looked very much alike and seemed to recognize each other. 

****************************** and the mistaken day!!

Just an ordinary day in the life of the cowboy girl  trying to decide what to do with the rest of her life...

July 25, 1963

I got up promptly at 6:00 and fed and did some shovel work. After that I worked on Cindy ‘til breakfast time. Of course all the ponies had to come up as usual. They were okay but Happy was a bit fearful. We drove out. Leo was much improved and we were glad of that. No riding today. Chief and Patsy seem to have survived their dosing okay. I walked to town for mail and some groceries. I got a letter from Mary, the Yavapai fair horse show data, a registry dope sheet etc. Charlie Mike stayed down in the canyon a lot trying to catch  some of the kids but no luck. I spent the afternoon working on Cindy, writing to Mary and reading the August Western Horseman which came yesterday. We did the evening chores as usual. Leo is still improving and had two more shots. We trimmed Ginger’s feet and she was ornery. After supper I put my hair up That is no mean chore. If I am ever wealthy I bet I spoil my children something awful. I want my daughter to be a rodeo queen, belle of every ball, top of the class and so on. In short all I was and also will  never be. Poor kid.

Generally I like to get up early in the summer. I still do really. I am not sure what animals we had at home at this point but it was several of the young Quarter Horse fillies we had acquired earlier in the spring. And I would have had a mule for my regular transportation to the pasture and elsewhere. Shovel work--cleaning corrals as it is never good to let animals stand around in crap. Charlie Mike and I shared this task almost daily. Sometimes he did more and sometimes I did. If we'd had a wheelbarrow it would have helped soooo much but that was not a necessary expense when slave labor was available that really could not complain.  We filled old five gallon buckets and carried them to dump in piles. A guy often came and loaded up a bunch which he sold for fertilizer.

Chief (the Appaloosa stallion) and Patsy, a white Arabian-looking mare I have mentioned before, had been gven a dose of special worm medicine the day before. The  vet gave Patsy a tranquilizer and she was pretty groggy for several hours but came out of it okay.  Leo was the young colt we had gotten with the fillies, also a registered Quarter Horse. He had hurt a leg and got some kind of distemper or other sickness--not real serious but he was too valuable to risk not treating. Ginger was the foal of the paint mare Susie and sired by Chief. She was about six months old at this time, and we were weaning her.

I never did have a lot of skill in doing my hair but had finally developed the ability to use the rollers that were getting to be very popular about that time.I  mostly kept my hair shoulder length or longer. I tried to wash it at least once a week and then either braided the pony tail or put it up so it dried with some wave. My hair is naturally straight--but both Charlie Mike and Alex had nice wavy to curly hair! Not fair.

Did I spoil my second hand kids? Not so much I guess. But they did get things I never had and also were allowed to do a lot I could not. I tried to learn from my experiences and not repeat the mistakes (to my perception) that I had suffered from. I hope I did not perpetuate some dysfunctional aspects.

Gotta have pix! Ginger, about the same time as this date. Patsy at the corral. I often fed grain or supplements in feedbags, all hand stitched from empty bags from grain and such! Next me with Leo--about 1 year old. He was gray with a light wash or undercoat of buckskin--made an unusual color. And me with Happy--she was a  buckskin. Photo does not show the nice white star on her forehead.

Memoir Monday, July 11, 1964

Two years into the cowboy girl life now. I suppose this was one of the better days really. 

July 11, 1964 , Sat

I got up at 5:30 and got busy promptly-fed, ate, led up, hauled water etc. I wore old clothes but took nice ones with  me. We fed at the pasture and went off later than we wished. We missed a few halter classes; too bad. A half sister to George Christiansen’s filly was there, won her class and made reserve champion filly. Mr Cummings was there with three--among his herd was a stud Pat’s age who had already settled two mares and kicked him in the head. His glasses were broken and he nearly got killed. The Johnsons and many others were there. Claire pulled her horse too hard and made him balk on the jumps. You can’t afford to be heavy handed. The class of the horses has improved and there are more entries but the manners are not any better--of either horses or handlers. Ugh. Peterson’s horse didn’t do too well. They say Chief’s filly is now white so they didn’t show her. The ApHC has some novel ideas such as a trailer race etc. which are real crowd pleasers but they are awfully amateurish and not pro. We got home fairly early and I rode out, delivering Rufus to the pasture on my way. Charlie Mike stayed home and cleaned corrals. It is now 10:00 and time for bed since we may get up early tomorrow for the rest of show. Damn, I’m tired. And Mom hasn’t done her share of planning on the ranch stuff so we wait again. Goddam it anyway.

This event was the annual Appaloosa Horse show in Flagstaff. We had gone in 1963 so I already knew how things went.   The normal feeding and basic chores had to be done every day, regardless, and that was expected. I have no idea where I changed from my work grubbies into nicer clothes. It could have been in he loading chute at the pasture I suppose or in a restroom at the fairgrounds after we got there.

I don' know how many readers here are horse show familiar! I was pretty well into the rotine by this time. Most mid-level shows  basically follow a pattern.  The first day is mostly halter classes. There are many for every age bracket and both genders of equines. In a halter class, the handler leads the horse into and around the ring while the judge looks at it--and all the others in that group--and evaluates the animal's conformation, how well it represents the breed in terms of shape, sometimes color and how it moves and to a lesser degree how well it behaves. There are usually several ribbons awarded, sometimes a trophy to the top winner, and the colors go from blue, to red, white and on down past green which is 6th place.  

Unless you have a horse in the competition or know some of them, this is not a reallyexciting day! Of course the George Chritiansen mentioned was also a Clarkdale resident. He had recently acquired a   young Appaloosa female. The next year  he bred her to our stallion, Yavapi Chief and her colt was named Tuzogoot, and a nicely marked appy he was.

I do not place Mr Cummings--though I clearly was familiar with him at this time. I do vaguely recall the accident. That young stud was not well behaved and under control. It was a bit shocking! The state of training and manners of many of the horses did not impress me.  In fact I would have been mortified to be seen in public with animals acting up the way a number that I saw did. Admittedly in the registered/purebred horse venue, mares and young colts were often not trained much--no one would ride them etc. but  they should walk calmly on a lead and certainly not rear, kick, paw or run off. But some did!

The second day is mostly the perfomance classes where the owner or more often a paid trainer puts the horse thrugh its paces in various events from western pleasure  to trail horse, gaits, even sometimes some jumps or other obstacles to be navigated. In some there are events  like calf penning, breakaway roping and gymkana events like barrel or stake racing and relays.At this time the Appaloosa Horse Club  of America (ApHC,) was newer and much less orgaized and actually 'pofessional' than older breeds like the Quarter Horse and Arabian.

Rufus was a big old mule we had gotten from a dealer in Phooenix who gave u a good deal on a big load of hay if we would take the mule off his hands for a modest price. He was a gentle nice animal but very big, almos tinto the draft animal size, and barely suitable as a saddle animal  but we rode him a bit and Charley Bryant had him for awhile when the old trainer waa caught between horses and training jobs and almost afoot. He did not drive so needed some animal transportation,

What the latest 'ranch planning' project was I do not recall. I was appaently miffed that mom had not done 'her share' of whatever paper work or other things were required. She was never too enthusiastic and in retrospect I cannot blame her a bit for that! As time went on I became much less so myself.

Hard to find photos for this. I know I never had one of Rufus. He was big and red and rather ordinary looking.  If Dad took pictures at the show I cannot find them and I did not. Let's see--one of me in a dressier outfit such as I might have worn that day.  Then a mare we kept briefly for the owners so she could be bred by Chief.  She was a fairly typical Appaloosa. And another view of Yavapai Chief.

Memoir Monday, July 4, 1963

The second summer of what in my big memoir is called "My Four Year Sentence." It was just that or maybe my indenture? I often felt like a prisoner or some kind of slave and knew no way to extricate myself once I was in the situation. Almost took a massive explosion!

July 4, 1963 Thursday

I waited until 6:30 to get up today but I finally did and I cleaned out the corrals too. We talked a lot all day but I don’t know if any conclusions have been reached. We drove out to ‘shoot’  Rita. Pepper had bitten Leo Bible’s ear and got beat up for his pains. I led Chief when we got home. Finally I came in. I spent quite awhile making lists of specifications for ranches. I only meant to rest a few minute but I fell asleep and slept for over an hour. After lunch we talked the afternoon away. I led the ponies up. They are always a double handful and tonight was no exception. We drove out and barely finished our chores before the fireworks began so we watched them before supper. They sure were pretty. I do hope we leave here. That’s nearly foremost in my mind now. If nothing has been done by my next birthday, God grant me the courage to strike out on my own. But I hope I shan’t have to. I’m lonely again tonight. It is unnatural for a girl my age not to have some sort of a boyfriend. There really isn’t anything wrong with me. I think in a new area I’d have a better chance. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking…  Oh damn, it all. I feel bad tonight period.

Sometimes we did slow down a little for holidays even if they were not marked with a lot of celebration or anything special. I must have had a hard night or not been feeling well but I had developed enough discipline and determination to do what needed to be done. So I played  "Little Red Hen"--anyone remember that little story?

The young mare Rita was fairly new. She had arrived about mid-February if memory serves. I think at this time we were having a run of distemper going thru the herd and that's what the shot was for--an antibiotic to help ease the symptoms since it was a virus and not too subject to antibiotic treatment. It kept down secondary infections at least.

Pepper was an obnoxius jack burro with a real mean streak. We had to keep him separate from the young mares and filies and he even hassled the older ones. Kicks did not see to faze him. He lunged and bit me in the back one time for no reason. I got a mesquite limb and beat him a bit more than I liked to do to any animal but I was very mad! I was lucky I had on a heavy jacket and that was all he really got hold of. Leo Bibles--some of those Quarter Horses had oldd names, the bibles probably came from her mother-line--was one of the yearlings we had taken on consignment for a bit. We did not end up keeping her. I cannot really remember her color now. Maybe light sorrel or buckskin?

The disillusionment and depression was getting harder to fight off. I did at times and could be fairly content for a bit but then something else would happen and flatten me. I really missed having any sort of social life. I was 21 this year and legally of age. I could have just told the folks, Dad especially, to shove it and gone on as I wished but the enmeshment had me trapped in a cobweb net of psychological confusion and a misplaced sense I truly must not leave as consequences would be awful and I probably could not make it on my own anyway (I had been that beaten down and lost all confidence and sense of self.). I kept setting deadlines for myself only to let them pass and slide away since I could not quite dare....  I was chronically tired. I did do a lot of work but depression can also manifest that way.

I always loved fireworks. We usually watched from our front stoop which faced out to the north with a good view east over the ridge to the Peck's Lake site where Clarkdale did their display at that time. Once or twice Charlie Mike and I had walked over to the lake but that was usually when Dad was away on a trip. 

A few pix for eye candy or interest: The first is me with Alex on that step or stoop. It was July 4 but 1961, so Alex would have been two.  Next is Rita--just another grade Quarter Horse (not purebred or registered) and finally Carolyn  Reed (Lyno), one of the fillies we did keep and a half sister of Leo Bibles--I think they looked much alike.

Memoir Monday, June 27, 1963

 Now into the second year of cowboy girlhood. The new had worn off--if there ever was any--and there were some good days, many dull ones and a few frankly bad. It was almost a dream by now that I had ever been in school, much less graduated in a brief spotlight..

June 27. 1963 Thursday

Dad took off quite early. I half-awoke but remained in bed, really rolling out about 6:00. Mom got up too and helped me carry down some water. I got an early start on my riding . The herd was gone but I did the usual chores. Back home, I led Chief and stopped on my way back for mail. I finally got my ‘party picks’ and the rest was mostly real estate letters. Finally the chores were done . I came in and tackled my project for the day--my ruffled blouse. I got the main part of it done. All I have to do is the sleeves. I think it will be real cute. I worked over two more chapters of Cindy Walker. It’s shaping up nicely. Charlie Mike rode his bike out with me to do the chores. All was okay and the herd was in except for Rita and Trink. We did the home chores and went to the Little League game. Charlie Mike’s pals won 3-2. It was pretty dull. Going places only makes me discontented, I should just stay home. I am awfully curious what Dad is finding out. We’ll know tomorrow I guess.

I can't recall without looking it up where Dad was going, whether another 'ranch hunt' expedition or some other business. No matter. Life at home went on as usual with mostly a slightly lower level of stress for me even if I was fully responsible for everything involving the livestock. I did not even mention which citter I rode out to the pasture. We'd had Chief since the previous December, the Appaloosa stallion we bought and kept for several years. At this time I did not have permission to ride him, not that I couldn't have done so as he was a reasonably well-behaved horse, about as managable as many geldings.  But Dad had the notion--later dropped as a matter of convenience-- that a girl should not ride a stallion. IMHO total bullcrap.

Chief was a good looking horse, bright copper with a classic 'blanket' rear pattern. He had a slightly coarse head as many Appys do but was a handsome horse. He produced good colts and almost all of them had very good dispositions. 

"Party picks"? If memory serves it was a boxtop offer sort of thing-small colored plastic skewers one might use for canapes or crudites. Since I did not entertain (LOL!) I have no idea what I planned to do with them. They were around for ages and I finally tossed them in the trash or a box for the thrift store decades later.

I do recall the ruffled blouse. I even have a photo wearing it. It was a major take-off from my usual western shirt pattern but turned out good enough and I had and wore it for several years. The fabric was polished cotton with a floral design, mostly in turquoise or aqua, always favorte shades. It made up nicely.

"Cindy Walker"--yes, that was my project for a YA novel that I worked on for quite awhile--literally years.  I still think it is a good book but now terribly out of date and I see no way to make it work in the 21st Century. The heroine was a ranch girl who's dad trained horses and she had a number of adventures, often not too different from mine, but her life was considerably different--she even had a boyfriend before it was over!  A friend and pen pal did some fine pen and ink illustrations for it and I seriously tried to sell it to a couple of places when I was in college but I was terribly naive about the whole publishing process and did not get too far. I now have only a slightly blurry photocopy of the manscript and would almost have to retype it all--about 30,000 words worth. No computers back then. Too bad...

For some years Charlie Mike and I did have free evenings in mild weather and wandered around a lot, went to games, saw friends and other stuff. We were supposed to be home by about 10:00 and normally were but we really cherished this freedom since for the most part we had very little! Despite the fact I was now 20 and he was approaching 14, we were under rather strict and solid control. Why did we allow this? The enmeshed family thing, mostly, I think. Rebellion was not easy and could get ugly.

Pictures! Me in the ruffled blouse. Chief (registered name Yavapai Chief), one illustration for "Cindy and the Challenges" and part of the color study meant for the book cover. These were done by Judy Crouch who did the painting of me on Leo I featured on my FB page recently.

Memoir Monday, June 20, 1962

 One more in the first month of my "new life." The prior-mentioned ranch hunt activity was continuing and I was really trying to start to believe (despite two years of disappointments and disillusionment already) although deep down I am sure I knew better. It was always those grandiose plans that actually had an ice cube's chance in Hades to reach reality. 

June 20, 1962 Wed

Today was the last day of spring. The calendar is a few days behind time, I think. I got up at 6:30 and fed the monsters. The folks were already up.   Dad left to go with Don Lee and I took off for the pasture at 7:30. I found Ritzi with a terrible gooey nose indicating distemper and nearly worried myself into a double stew. At least I got some mail today--letters from Shirley, Boots and Wayne. I was really hardly expecting him to write but he did. I guess I’m glad. I need some sort of beau. Saw the B driving up main this morning. Dad came back with no deal on Montezuma but preliminary papers on Buckhorn. I guess I’d really like to leave the Verde Valley. If I don’t go to college next year I’ll never hear the last of it here. This afternoon I rode over to Cottonwood to get some medicine for Ritzi. I talked to Mrs Schauffler on the phone this morning and to Dr Al this afternoon. I had just swatted Trixie across the ears for spooking at a motorcycle when Gordo (aka the B) came around the corner. Like he really stared. Guess he got a free show--my blouse was half unbuttoned in the struggle. Proves I was wearing something under it, no?  We drove out to feed and gave Ritzi her first dose of penn-strep. She seems better and Dad said for me not to worry about her.  I’ll probably get to go see Buckhorn and another ranch down there in a few days. Boy, I’m glad today is over. It has been a good few days but kinda rough on the nerves. I’m almost convinced we might do something eventually.

My memories of Don Lee, a glib and ambitious real estate guy, are of  a short, husky guy who drove a fancy car, Lincoln or Chrysler I think. I went along on one trip a few weeks later and was impressed and entertained by his tales and wild ideas. My enchantment with the pen pals and such was wearing thin and I was beginning to think I must eventually choose between the "Prince" (the suave, educated and well-heeled type) and the "Cowboy" (the rugged outdoors type man who was the modern version of the TV stars in the'westerns' I'd loved and a younger edition of old heroes Charley Bryant and Leo Greenough.) I had been avidly looking for my "hero on the white horse" of some kind since I was about twelve and now nineteen was behind me. The dream was slow in coming true!

Let's see--Shirley and Boots were girl pen pals and Wayne you  have met before. I still liked to get mail and was always a little aggrieved when I had nothing in the PO Box! I had begun to debate with myself whether or not I wanted to or even could go off to college in the fall--or not. I knew I would hear about it from many local people if I did not, but I was timid about the idea of going clear to Phoenix since my scholarships were for Grand Canyon--then College and now University. 

Even how to get there? (I could not count on my Dad driving me or at least didn't think I could because on one hand he talked how great it would be but also there was a strong hint of not just yet... ) After all, I was doing a lot of work, much of which Charlie Mike at 10-11 was really not able to take over. So who would take care of my equine and equi-assinine babies if I were gone? Serious issues at that time at least to me. I was stretched like a rubber band between wishes and doubts/fears.

Dr Al was the local veterinarian of whom we were becoming  frequent customers. Ritzi was about two years old and had been born to the mare we got, Queenie, in a batch of mules from the Kansas stock dealer, Willis Grumbein. I was planning to start training her soon but she was illness and accident prone. A plague of distemper had been going through our herd and she got it.We never lost an animal from it but had to doctor a lot. It was a rather nasty bug.

I'd ridden Trixie, who was a good little mule but a bit flighty still at times, over to Cottonwood to get the meds and a motorcycle spooked her up near the high point on the highway between the towns as we returned.  She managed to jump halfway into the road just as one of the propane company trucks came along--with my favorite SOB at the wheel. Oh dear. 

So just a typical day in the life of the Cowboy Girl in Clarkdale in June 1962...  There were to be many, many more of them. Had I  known how many perhaps I would have forced the college issue? No, probably not --I was so lacking in confidence and trust in my own ability to do anything different and new. In retrospect that is sad and  yet rather inevitable due to what I had already experienced. The enmeshed family and emotional incest issues were there and conspired to build big limits for me.

For reader-tax--a few photos:  Trixie. that was my little saddle on her. She was small and cute. Next me. I had made that shirt and really liked it and was clearly dressed up here to go somewhere--maybe ranch hunting? And Ritzi-not a good photo of her, shaggy in a winter coat when she was normally shiny and a bright sorrel color with flaxen mane and tail. Mom was feeding her some grain in the bucket.

Memoir Monday, June 6, 1962

 Just a short week from graduation and all the 'pomp and circumstance' but it was already fading into the distance, part of history. As of June 1, I had begun a new and rather different era. 

June 6, 1962, Wed

Today we were all lazy. I didn’t get up until 8:00 am. I took off immediately after breakfast leading Prez. The herd was down so I didn’t have to go mule hunting. I fed the mules and horses and came home. No mail for me for three days straight. Nobody loves me anymore. Jose mio, donde esta usted? I put my mule up and came in out of the heat. We were talking more about our latest discovery. It sounds fabulous but I dare not get too excited about it. It might disappoint me and I simply can’t stand that again. We are all going to Phoenix tomorrow and then on over to Wickenburg to look at those two ranches near Castle Hot Springs. Then Friday  or Saturday we’ll go up to Hackberry-Valentine . I went to town for Mom to mail some letters and cashed one of my checks and bought a pair of thongs and an ice for Charlie Mike. Earlier I was out tanning my legs and watching the kids bike when the Bastard and two buddies drive by. I can still read a lot from the way he was looking at me all the time. I rode Cinder out this evening. The herd was still down so no worry there. After supper I went up to visit Evelyn for a bit. It still doesn’t seem like summer, really. I guess I’ll fall into the routine pretty quickly though. I’m not sure now whether we’ll all go or not. Actually I don’t give a nothing. If we don’t, I’ll ride to Cottonwood and scare up a little excitement over there. I am man hunting for sure.

I was still adjusting to the new schedule--no more school and for awhile it felt like just another summer vacation. Through the summer I still had some vague ideas that I would go off to college come the fall  but that did not happen and in September I realized with a shock there was no more school to return to.

I've mentioned the 'ranch hunt' stuff before. That went on and on. It was almost a carrot dangled in front of me at times--the dream we'd get a nice place and have room and good facilities to do the livestock business. I had not yet got totally cynical about the prospect, close but not totally!

I was still caught up in Jose as a favored pen pal. He was or at least seemed to be a fascinating character. Later I realized I had let myself become enamored with an imaginary vision, one that probably had little similarity to the real person behind the multi-colored incense scented letters I received and answered for close to two years. The Bastard was my final epithet for the guy who had almost gotten me into trouble and had haunted me as a nemesis for some time, actually since the summer of 1960. It kind of fit as he was really not a nice person and I had been far too naive and gullible to his blatant flirting and barely decently worded propositions for quite awhile. When I finally caught on I was furious at myself and at him and told him off.

I was always swapping mules back and forth. Prez was becoming a favorite mount along with Annie. Trixie and Cinder were smaller and also ones I liked. Going to the pasture daily, often twice, was one of the major 'chores' which were rapidly becoming a full time actual job that occupied me 12-15 hours a day for much of he next four years. Within another week or two I was fully into the cowboy girl routine and that absorbed most of my time, energy and attention for four years.

Two view of part of the pasture area--one shows the corrals and the other from the point directly across the river from Tuzigoot. The row of trees closest to the hills was in the pasture. 

Memoir Monday, June 13, 1962

Not quite two weeks from graduation. Some disillusionment set in fast but it came and went. It is hard now to explain, much less defend how or why things went so much awry and why I tolerated and suffered through them for a long four years--June 1, 1962 to September 8, 1966. This period is probably the main reason I am working now on a detailed memoir and semi-autobiography of my first quarter century. I need to try to understand and also to demonstrate that one can be mired in a pit of  psychological quicksand to the point where escape seems impossible and yet in time do so and rise above, move past  and make a new path and life. That I did so is one thing I am proud of. I had little normal human help so I have to be deeply thankful to my personal Deity and guardian angel(s) who surely watched over, protected and guided me.

June 13 1962, Wed

Damn, I’m so sick of everything. I got up at 7:00 to help Mom water and feed. Right after breakfast Dad and I took off. We stopped by the pasture to feed and then rode on down to Montezuma. We climbed all over the darn place, looking at fences etc. I was already tired . We had to change our right front tire this morning and get it fixed. While sitting in front of George’s Union Station, I saw the Bastard go by --big as life and twice as ugly. Anyway, that Montezuma ranch will sure need one hell of a lot of work to fix it up. It is awfully pretty down along Beaver Creek but that place is a mess. Dad and I drove all over out there to Rimrock Acres, Montezuma Country Club, Rimrock Ranch and finally around to Sedona on the new road and home. I’ll have to admit that Arizona , the Verde Valley in particular, is awfully pretty. Coming back I saw the Bastard again. He was laughing with one of his buddies and showing a mouthful of teeth. To hell with him. I rode Cinder out and did the usual chores. I couldn’t get the herd in. Hell--let Johnny T worry about them. They are on him, not me. Don Lee called this evening. I don’t know--maybe Dad will go down there tomorrow. All I know is I’ll stick here until September and then I either go to college or go away and get a job unless we are moved.  No ifs, ands or buts about it. I’m free, white and nineteen and my own woman. --til I see the Bastard or hear from Jose or Juen (Wayne) again!  

I've  mentioned the "ranch hunt" before and that will be a frequent theme for the next two years and even parts of the whole period. This effort was ongoing but in fits and starts. This particular summer we made a lot of trips and got high hopes which collapsed over and over again.  At this time the Montezuma area was not developed as it is now so there were many vacant tracts of land and places that had been abandoned. The one we looked at was owned by the brother of the Don Lee I mentioned who was a real estate agent.  If memory serves, it was hilly and rocky for the most part, full of tumbleweeds in the lower or more level parts and had sagging fences that would not keep much in or out. I could not find it now to save my life, but I was very unimpressed! Although I said we 'rode' I am pretty sure Dad drove down to that area as the rest of the tale indicates.

As I said last time, the Bastard was my ultimate epithet for the guy who had been my crush at one point and then became my nemesis when I finally realized what a piece of trash he was and how stupid I had been to be taken in by his flirting and increasingly blatant propositions. I was not longer 17 and legally protected jail bait so it became hazardous for me fast. I told him to disappear from my life and not to acknowledge me in any way. He did, except for staring at times still. I was not such a femme fatale--the cowboy girl in dirty jeans, manure stained boots and and never any makeup or fancy stuff. What did he see in me except one who got away?

My language had gotten rougher. There were still some words I did not use and actually did not for many years, but I cussed quite a bit though limited it around my parents and most adults--other adults I guess I should say since I was really one myself by now although most of my life style did not reflect that. I mostly kept a sense of humor anyway, often dry, wry or even sarcastic but it was there.

Riding to the pasture was a constant chore. By my usual route down the 'river road'--roughly where the Tuzigoot highway runs now-- and then down into the river bottom at the end of the tailings pond and around the corner to the gate. It was about 2 1/2 miles each way. At a lope or a hard trot I could travel it in about ten minutes.Taking a rough count out of my journal where I did document my work most days as well as the weather, for the 214 days from 1 June-31 December in 1962, I made that trip on horse or mule back 249 times. We drove around by the road thru Tuzigoot, now no longer open, to haul hay or do some work there 118 times. 

A few semi-relevant photos: Charlie Mike helping as I saddled up a mule to probably ride out.  Not Cinder that I mentioned here but probably Annie--Cinder was not that tall. All three of us sitting on the Ford pickup, looking ragged and ratty as usual--the growing boys in high water pants and all in clod hoppers or ragged tennies. Last me by the pickup, likely going somewhere since I was more dressed up than usual, wearing good jeans and one of the many shirts I made.