Everybody loved to hear my Grandma Angelna's stories of pioneer days in Missouri, Texas, and New Mexico. We children always begged for stories of the Indians, the cowboys and the trailblazers. We knew her stores so well we could prompt her when her throat was tired or she happened to sneeze.

We all adored this tiny lady, who stood five feet two inches tall and weighed all of a hundred pounds. She could spin such good yarns and tell the best jokes and sing the happiest songs. It never dawned on any of us that she had suffered a living hell for twenty years.

I was seven years old when Grandma Angelina (my father's mother) came to our home in Roswell, New Mexico. My mother warned me that grandma was very ill, and that the doctor would be coming to our house often. We were not to be noisy, and above, all we were to be very kind to Grandma.

Not until I was twelve years old did my parents tell me the horrifying truth about the Grandma's illness, but my the time she was in good health, the curse had been lifted, and I looked forward to her visits. I do remember feeling embarrassed when I saw her for the first time after my parents confession, but her ready smile, her good humor and sincere interest won me again.

When I was older and a bit wiser, I realized that I could honestly say my grandmother was a heroine of the first order, and I was determined that some day I would get to tell her story. One night I interviewed Grandma Angelina for twenty years, jotting down certain important dates, gathering the few pictures available, and using the favorite stores when I had English compositions due at school.

When I was married and had two children of my own, it came to me suddenly, that Grandma and I had better get together to finish this story of her life. After all she was past eighty.

In 1929 we invited her to our home in Tucson, Arizona an and we set to work. Se went over all my notes, checked our history books, gathered, family pictures and reviewed my favorite stories. This meeting had to be different that all other. There were some important questions I was to ask, and I was to receive some very candid answers.

When we finished this last long interview, Grandmother Angelina remarked good humoredly," I feel naked as a jay-bird."

CHAPTER

EARLY CHILDHOOD

When you are up in years as I am, folks are likely to ask, "Grandma what is the first thing you can remember?"

Gracious me! How far back can a child remember? We hear something told over and over again by older members of our family, and we aren't sure whether we really remember or not. Anyway, I do not remember some things that happened when I was close to three years old.

It was 1849 and we were living on the White River in Southern Missouri. We were at the supper table when my brother Allen (just turned eighteen) announced that he was going to join the gold hunters in California. He said a caravan from our colony would be leaving in ten days.

I was heart-broken, for Allen was my oldest brother who took mighty good care of me. I remember bursting into tears and yelling "Don't leave me, Allen! Don't leave me!" and my Pa hushing me in one hurry by demanding, "Dry your tears, Angie, or leave the table."

My mother looked very sad, and my Pa looked as sour as green apples, but my other five brothers went hog -wild with excitement and talked of nothing else for the next ten days.

I remember the big girls in the settlement bringing tree branches to put on the wheels of the wagons and gathering wild flowers to hang around the oxen's necks.

The morning the caravan was to move out, Allen came to me with a package, and he said, "Angie, this is for a big girl who never cries." I opened the package and there were two pretty side combs and a pair of knitting needles. I looked over my mother and she had the identical presents. I was prouder than a peacock, and I did try not to cry, but when the teams started up the tears rolled down my cheeks; but at least I didn't make any noise or fuss, and I just hoped Allen was to far away to see my tears.

The part I didn't know about until years later, when my brother Preston told me, was that Allen had had a real argument with Pa that evening when he first announced his plans. It seems that Ma and all the boys were some surprised that Allan had the grit to cross Pa and actually make a move to leave the nest.

Pres said he would never forget that evening as long as he lived. After supper, Allen and Pa sat down under the big tee to the right of our door. Pres and John didn't dare go near the tree (John was sixteen and Pres nine). They sat out to the side of the house and stretched their ears to listen. They were to scared to move and to interested to keep whittling, which was what they were supposed to be doing.

Pres said it was like two big bulls eyeing each other. That's a good likeness, come to think about it, for both Pa and Allen were big men. Both were over six feet, but Pa filled out all over and weighed a lot more. Some neighbors said that my father, Thomas McCarty, was a brawny, friendly happy Irishman, but others call him hard-bargaining, strait-laced, tight-lipped Scotchman. All agreed that Allen was the "spittin' image" of his Pa; and they were mighty good- looking men with dark curls and Irish blue eyes.

Pres said Pa seemed calm and peaceful enough when he asked Allen about this uproar in California, and Allen answered him cool as a cucumber.

"Pa, it is rumored that gold has been found in Californy that a man can grow rich in a day by simply picking up rocks on top o' the ground."

Allen was heating up a little. "Charles Lucas brought word from the east that President Polk vowed this was no rumor. There is gold there, all right! Plenty of it!"

"Then every rakshell in the country will be headed west by sun-up. You're to young for such a trip among robbers and thieves and worse!"

"I'm eighteen, pa and I'm not the youngest in our colony who expects to head west soon." Pres and the other boys nearly swallowed their tongues when Allen went on, halfway poking fun at Pa. "I do remember being told there was one Thomas McCarty, who at the ripe age of eighteen took for his wife one Rebecca Comstock, who traveled with him from Kentucky to the wilds of Indiana."

"Are you thinking of taking a wife on this journey?"

Allen roared with laughter at the shocked look on Pa's face. "That I am not. There are maidens about, but I'm doing my traveling first; make my pile, then settle down."

"You are wise there, Son Many women are poor travelers." But Pa wasn't giving in this easy. "You know nothing of your country to the east and less of this barren land to the west. That is not all; you know so little of your forekin, where they came from, what they did! I tell you, Son, you are not ready to fly out of the nest."

"So!" retorted Allen, "I haven't listened to you to tell all of us again about your up-bringin'."

John winked at all the boys scrunched down at the side of the house; then he sauntered around lazy-like to the tree. The rest followed a few at a time and waited to see if Pa would wave them away, but he didn't.

Pres said Ma let me out of the house about then, and I crept into Pa's arms and fell fast asleep in a few minutes. Wouldn't you know it! But Pa's strong, melodious voice could lull and charm far older women than I. When he read the Bible to us, it would give you goose pimples. If he had been a calmer man, he would have been a wonderful preacher.

Pres said Pa let out all the stops that evening and repeated al his best stories. He didn't hesitate to tell his sons that the Scotchman had been driven out of England because they didn't see eye to eye on religious questions. They moved over into Ireland and taught the Irish a few things about thrift and orderliness, but the thanks they got for that was to be invited out of their adopted home and told to move out fast. What did that Irish period contribute to the family? ( I can see Pa's eyes crinkling at the corners when he's tickled about something.) "Oh, a bit o' the brogue that will last for generations!"

Pa pointed out that by 1789 thousands of these Scotch-Irish had arrived in Pennsylvania. There were a lot of other immigrants there, and they were going to stay, for the Allegheny mountains discouraged movement westward. But don't think these stopped the Scotch-Irish. They just up and found a passageway to the north, traveled around the mountains and south again until they reached the edge of Virginia.

There the Garrett s, Penergrass es, Haig s, Grey s, Blake s, McGrath s, and McCarty s built homes, tilled the soil, worshiped God as good Presbyterians. Sure they had to fight Indians! Sure they had to conquer the wilderness!

In 1802 the McCarty couple had a son and they named him Thomas. Pa said it was no concern of his that President Jefferson the next year acquired the Louisiana Territory. He had no more reason to be concerned about western expansion when he was eight years old, for his own little world collapsed. His parents died of a strange and vicious fever, apparently malaria. A lot of folks in that settlement died of the same ailment.

Pa said he would be forever grateful to the Blakes and the McGraths who looked after him, and when the Blakes moved the next year they took your Thomas with them.

Pa grew up near the Cumberland Gap where he watched the emigrant wagons travel through this natural gateway in a never ending line. He listened a lot around the campfires at night, and he learned more and more about the country west of Kentucky and Tennessee and the Mississippi River.

Pa let the boys know he was taking care of himself by the time he was twelve, and when he was eighteen, he was full-grown and ready to strike out for himself.

He married Rebecca Comstock of the Kentucky Comstock s, and a new wife was reason enough to hit the for the new country. The McCarty s joined a caravan heading toward Indiana and Ohio. Then the news came that New York State had, at last, started the Erie Canal. Thomas and Rebecca rushed to the scene of this exciting enterprise, and there Thomas worked as a subcontractor until the canal was finished in 1825.

The MaCarty s settled down at Terre Haute, Indiana, and watched an Indian stockade blossom into a thriving city. Pa admitted that he loved the excitement of road and canal building, and he decided that it was the right place and the right time to start the family. He reminded the boys they were born at Terre Haute all six of them, and three sisters besides.

Then the excitement was over. Indiana was bankrupt because she had invested too heavily in highways and byways. Pa said he had a feeling in his bones that hard times were coming, and he felt restless and uneasy. He knew they should get out while the getting was good, but he couldn't persuade Rebecca. She kept putting him off week after week, and finally she just said she was going to stay in civilized country among civilized people. So Thomas said he would take the six boys along with him, and she could look after the girls.

That was about all I ever did find out about this split-up. My brother John, the solem, quiet boy of the bunch, told me when I was too curious one day, that his mother, Rebecca, knew Pa would never come back, so she sued for divorce and got it in less than a year. Pa never opened his mouth about it again, and you can bet I never questioned him.

Pa had told all the history he was going to say that evening. He turned to Allen with, "The rest you can remember well: you were twelve by then."

Allen wasn't quite ready to close the discussion. He answered, "Yes I do remember. We traveled to Missouri, and we went through St. Louis and St. Genevieve. You told us that people there were French, and we looked them over hard, because we never heard of such. You took one look at the White River country and told us we were going to start a saw mill. We did just that and we never worked any harder in our lives, but I liked it."

Allen had to get in a little teasing, though, which is something none of the rest of us ever had the nerve to do with Pa. "I keep thinking, though, that it seems a mite strange that you chose this particular spot to build a saw mill. It couldn't have been that a certain pretty little French girl, Salle LaFource, had something to do with sudden decision to stay in these parts."

The other boys, Pres said, held their breaths at Allen's daring. But Pa just brushed him off. "That's no concern of yours, Son. Marion, go look after the horses, and I'll put this young lady to bed. She is getting heavier than a ton of led."

Allen chuckled, but then said very seriously, "Sallie is pretty, she's good, and she's my friend."

That was the opinion echoed by all the boys' I can tell you that for sure. When Pa married Sallie LaForce in 1844, the boys were nightly surprised, but they soon found out this young girl knew how to make a house a home.

Sallie's first baby was a boy who died after birth; then I came along, Jeanette Angelina. Imagine one baby girl among all those boys! I guess they set out to spoil me rotten, but Pa made it plain that he didn't like spoiled children around. My three older half-brothers, Allen, John, Thaddeus, were my guardians, while Marion, James, Preston were my playmates.

I remember that Ma worked night and day to finish a coat for Allen to take to California. Of course she had to weave and sew by hand.

Ma actually made two coats in one; the inside was plaid material and the outside was a plain color. I know how much Allen appreciated it; he was the kind who would make a lot over it if you handed him a pretty wildflower.

Pa and Allen parted friends, but they never saw each other again. We heard from Allen once or twice a year, but the mail didn't get to us often, and there was no pony express until 1860.

This next episode is one that I remember very distinctly, although I must have been about three and a half years old. It was Sunday morning and we were at the breakfast table when Pa announced suddenly, "Marion, get the horses; your Ma and I are going to church this morning."

"What will I do with Angie?" asked Ma gently.

"Well, I guess Marion and Preston are big enough to take care of her!" and Pa left the room.

"Oh, Ma," Pres whined, "Marion and I wanted to go down the land and climb trees."

" You can take Angie with you."

"With them fat, short legs taggin' along!"

"Take her or stay at the house all day."

The folks weren't out of sight until we were down the wide lane looking for the tallest tree to climb. Suddenly Marion yelled, "There's the red bull coming! Quick, Angie, we gotta climb a tree!"

Sure enough, the big bull that belonged to our neighbor was coming right down the lane toward us. We hoped he hadn't seen us yet. Each boy grabbed one of my fat hands and ran to the nearest tree. Marion swung up first to a lower limb, then he reached for me. " Lift her up quick, Pres, and you get yourself up in one hurry!"

There we sat, awaiting the approach of one of the meanest bulls around. He lumbered along slowly, lowing softly; lowing softly then he would stop long enough to shake his head in vain attempt to rid himself of the pesky flies, that buzzed about him. Maybe you think our hearts weren't beating fast! He came right under the tree where we were perched, and there we stopped. He flung his head over his own shoulder and then the other, wile the slobber flew from his head over his own shoulder and then the other, while the slobber flew from his mouth in all directions, some of it actually reaching Pres's big toe clinched like a vise to the limb of the tree. It seemed like hours, but it couldn't have been many minutes until Mr. Bull ambled on up the lane absolutely unconscious of the terror he was spreading.

"Well, we're in the same fix we wuz. He's µtween us and the house." Marion was always the pessimist. As we were figuring out what to do, we heard the sharp clickety-clack of a loping horse down the road, and a rider came into view. He spied us crouched in the tree and raced up shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Git to the house, all of you. Yer pa's been shot." Then he was past us, rushing our enemy, the bull away off to the side of the lane. We didn't even think about the bull any more as we ran after the horse and rider, crying as we went.

"Who did it?" gasped Marion to John, who stood at the yard gate waiting for us.

"Ole Sully," he answered in a tired voice. Marion turned and looked at Pres and said bitterly, "Yeah! He's been spoilin' for a fight for a long time."

Then a neighbor man came out to tell us, "Your pa and ma took a short cut to church over one o' Sully's pastures just like they've done a heep o' times but Sully was in a bad mood, I guess, and ordered them offen his land. Yer pa isn't one to take orders like that without explanation, so he had words with him; and the next thing, according to y'r ma, Sully had out his gun and shot your pa right through the belly. Yer ma sez the bullet went through him and out his back clean as a whistle but he sur is bleedin'!"

I remember running into the house to find my mother kneeling over my Pa who was white as a bed sheet. I was scared silly, of course, and started crying out aloud. Thaddeaus grabbed me up and ran out of the room, whispering, "Angie! You can't be a cry-baby. You gotte be big. Ma's got no time to pay you mind now. Pa is awful bad."

Sometime that afternoon Ma called us to the door and said very quietly, "John, you are to take Allen's place her now. While I doctor your pa, you take care of Angie and the boys. See that they mind you. I won't have time to look after any of you."

We crept around that house for seventeen days, and we didn't cross patient, solem John once. We were just that scared. I didn't know until I was older what kind of doctoring Ma was doing, but she told me later she probed the wound each day with a with a narrow piece of silk, using slippery elm bark tor a tube to keep the wound open and draining properly. She also made a slippery, sticky mucilage by boiling the elm bark and water together. This was used to draw inflamation from the wound. Imagine what doctors would say about all this nowadays!

I know the neighbors gathered in the yard at different times, and they shook their heads and looked very sad. None of them expected Pa to live. On the seventeenth day, word got around that his bowels finally moved. Folks seemed so relieved and wore such happy faces! I didn't see why that was so important, but twenty years later when I was doctoring my own, I often thought of this very important event.

It was just a month afterwards that Ole Sully heard that Thomas McCarty was up and about and ending fast. Much to the amusement of the whole community, Sully suddenly sold out and moved to some other district. John brought the word to us that Sully was gone, and he remarked in his slow, solem way, "Know, maybe we can have peace for quiet a spell."

Of course I had to know later on what caused this shooting, and as usual it was good old Pres who tried to explain it to me. He told me it was all harkened back to a long time ago when our Pa got interested in the Regulator and Moderator feud.(1) Pres said he was sure the whole thing was past and gone except maybe in that little corner of Missouri. In thinking it was over years later, Pres thought Pa and Sully were just trying to taunt each other. Anyway, the neighbor men told our boys that Pa was proud of his Moderator stock of seventy years back, while Ole Sully swore by his Regulator stock. They just seemed to like to argue over this every time they met, but election time care around and the argument got pretty heated, Sully bragging that he was the only real Democrat in the whole settlement. It seemed he didn't take to our Pa's ideas about Free-Soilers (2)

You might know I didn't understand any of this until many years later when I studied some of my grandchildren's history books. Maybe me brothers were right when they said the whole mess would have died out early if the people in the settlement hadn't kept egging Pa and Sully on, just for the lack of something better to do.

Pres remembered John and Ma trying to figure out what the feud was really about, and John drawling out in his slow way, "Don't men find the damndest things to go shootin' over!"

For once Ma didn't scold him, even if he did use a swear word before a lady.

Footnote:1. Collier Encyclopedia. 1765-1771 Regulator Moment started in Carolinas. The back country farmers took government in their own hands to drive out law country grasping tax collectors. They opposed armed force with force. Moderators took side of army, which finally subdued Regulators in Battle of Alamanac.
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER TWO

GROWING PAINS

It seems to me, as I look back, that the McCarty s lived peacefully and comfortably for the next five years. We had a big house, made of logs like all frontier houses. It had a great fire place at one end to warm us and cook our food. (I can never forget the smell of clean pine knots burning.) We used tallow candles, although I also remember Ma Sallie making pretty green candles out of waxy berries she gathered from bayberry bushes.

We had plenty of food, for Pa was a good farmer. We had corn, beans, turnips, and plenty of other vegetables. We gathered wild berries for jams jellies, and we had good apple cider to drink. I never saw coffee until after the Civil War, and come to think of it, very little tea.

The most important event in those five years were when Ma Sallie presented us with two big, bouncing boys, Farwick and Melvin. I really enjoyed taking care of them. They were like big dolls to me.

It was spring again, and we all wondered why Pa spent long hours walking over his fields or riding far from his land. We might have known that Pa had stayed put long enough. He announced suddenly that he had bought a farm near McDonald County and we'd be moving pretty soon.

I suppose Ma Sallie was comforted by the thought that at least we were not leaving the state, and when we got to the new farm in Newton County, it was just as prosperous looking and well kept as the one we left. As for me, I was a happy girl, for we fund friendly neighbors only a half-mile away, and there was a little girl in the family who was just my age. She was to teach me how to play girl's games and encourage me to talk girl's talk. Ma was pleased that little Evelyn Barkley came over to our house often. I guess Ma brooked over the fact that from the time I was seven, I would try to run as fast, climb as high, and ride as far as Pres, James, Marion. It was high time I started to be more ladylike.

Looking back not, I can see Pa was spreading out a bit. He had turned the far over to John and Thaddeus and had become a manager of a grist and lumber mill in the nearly village of Neosho. This was the time, too when he became interested in horses, particularly blooded racing stock. We heard house talk at every meal, and the brothers and I loved it. If Pa heard of a new race horse in the district, he could always find time to go have a look at the newcomer.

It was a time when everybody in the McCarty household was very busy and very happy. But it wasn't to be that way for very long.

I guess the trouble started the day Granny Lewis [not her real name] came by to visit with ma-- her first and only visit. I wouldn't have been half so curious about her if I hadn't overheard my big brothers say she was the worst gossip in Neosho-- in fact, they used to say she was a cranky old crone and mean as a bat!

I happened to be in the front bedroom putting Melvin and Warwick down for a nap when I heard somebody call, "Anybody home?" I peeked into the front room just as Ma was letting her visitor through the door. She was an old witch if I ever saw one. All she needed was a peaked hat and a broom stick!

After a lot of palaver about the weather and everybody's health, I got the idea that old Granny Lewis was mighty busy running down a newcomer named Faith. Granny declared she wouldn't trust her as far as she could throw a full grown steer. She did admit this Faith was pretty in a sort of simpering way. From what I could gather, Faith was causing an awful stir among the men of the settlement
.
Old Granny confessed she had stayed up all hours of the night and had seen with her own eyes just.

Plenty of men coming and going from Faith's house. She let it be known then and there that if she had a good-looking husband, she's see that Faith didn't get her claws on him.

I don't remember Ma saying a single word, but she wasn't long showing Granny Lewis to the door. I remember running out a side door to open the front gate for Granny. I was just being friendly, but I admit I was overly curious. She glanced and me and snapped, "Your ma is the untalkingest, unfeelingest woman I ever met!"

I ran back into the house as fast as I could and yelled at Ma, "What's she so mad about?"

Ma said sweetly enough, "Never mind, Angie, get the boys up and I'll ring the supper bell. Your Pa will be ready to eat the minute he comes in."

I shut my mouth then, but I exploded at the table. I was just in the midst of telling the whole world about our visitor when Ma touched me gently on the shoulder and said, "Never mind, Angie. Finish your supper."

A lot of good it did for Little Curiosity Cat to repeat a bit of Gossip. I tried to tell my brothers in private about old Granny's visit, but they just shrugged and didn't even look at me. Even Pres failed me when I repeated what I'd heard. I asked him why the old crone was so nasty to me, and he just yawned and said, "Why don't you talk it over with Ma. Iffen there's something you orta know, she'll tell you."

It was some two weeks later that Ma called all her children and step children to her and told us she was going to see her parents. She remarked that they were getting up in years, and she's like to see how they were getting along. I remember her leaving explicit order for each of us. I was to run the kitchen with Marion and James to help me. "Just be sure the meals are ready when Pa comes in. Angie, you look after Farwick and Melvin. You can manage them all right."

"Pres, you see that there is plenty of wood and water at the house. That's your job. Angie you see that the house is kept in order. Don't let things get messed up."

Actually, we were al excited over Ma's trip, and nobody could have felt more important than Jeanetta Angelina. I was big boss, and I knew it, and I was all of eight years old!

Somebody asked Ma how long she would be gone, and she said she'd be back as soon as she could, for us all to do our part to keep things going until she could return.

I stood at the gate as Ma Mounted her beautiful mare. She had seen Pa, who appeared suddenly from the back of the house. Ma Waited cool enough as he walked toward her very quickly and burst out in an angry voice, "Sallie, I don't like this. I don't see why you pick this time of year to visit your folks. There's fruit ripenin' here, and it will be rotten in another week."

I felt a little sick with disappointment for my mother. That nice visit was spoiled, for of course she wouldn't go unless Pa gave his consent.

Ma looked down at Pa and her black eyes were flashing as she said firmly, "Thomas McCarty, when you get your house in order, I'll be back." She wheeled the mare quickly, waved at all of us, then road off at a fast lope.

You could have knocked me over with a feather and I turned to question Pa, but one look at his face and I skedaddled into the house as fast as my legs would take me. The rest of the day I walked about the house repeating to myself what Ma had sead: "House in order!" Every copper kettle shining both Dutch ovens in their place right on the fireplace; the spinning wheel in its corner on the left; stacks of tallow candles ready for use; the feather beds high and smooth; the floors sweet-smelling for hard soap scrubbings. Never was there a house in more order. What ever in the world did my Ma mean?

I didn't have to much time to ponder over this, for I was running in a high trot trying to keep things in apple-pie order until my Ma would be home again. The bossing part of my job was to get me into trouble. I yelled at Melvin and Warwick from daylight to dark, and ordered my big brothers around so much that Pa set his foot down. "Angie, Quit being so bossy! Everybody hates a bossy woman!" That settled my puffing feathers for a bit, and I had it coming to me.

Ma returned in two weeks, and I was the happiest girl in the world. I talked an arm off her and she took over the washing, ironing and the dreaded mending. She never stopped working that whole day! Then about sundown she told me things weren't right yet, and she would have to go back to her parents for a spell. I took it that her parents were ailing and still needed her help. I know she left because Pa never once came to the house that whole day.

I remember taking Melvin and Warwick to the barn so they couldn't see Ma leave. I wanted to cry in the worst way, but I knew if the little boys saw me they would tune up, and I'd have real trouble on my hand to get them to stop.

It was about that time that we had unexpected company one evening. I had fixed corn as one of the vegetables. When I passed it to Pa, he saw that I had put too much milk, and it was a little soupy. He turned to our guest, a man I'd never seen before, and said pleasantly, "You'll have to excuse Angie's corn. She's just learning to cook real well." You can bet I never made soupy corn again!

Ma came again in two weeks, but found that Pa had hired a Negro boy to help with the washing and scrubbing, so she didn't have to work so hard that time. She baked up a lot of pies and helped me snap beans for supper.

We talked and talked, and when the brothers came in from the field they were so happy to see her. Everything was fine when Ma Sallie was home. But she left again at sundown, and though I didn't know it then, this was her last visit. Pa didn't come home until way in the night.

My Memory of the next months was a blur. The Negro boy didn't last long. Others, white and Negro ca, came and went, and before I knew it a whole year had gone by. There was one sunshinny spot for me in that time, for news came to Pa that his daughter Jane (By Rebecca) was visiting Webster county.

Pa sent Marion to talk to the girl and beg her to come and keep house for us. Bless Jane's heart! She came for a few months, but then hurried on home to prepare for her own wedding. She was good to me, and I hated to see her go; but when she was out of sight I realized my Pa was depending on me more and more, and that was a great comfort to me.

By the next year, both John and Thaddeus were married and lived on farms many miles away. James and Marion took over the heavy farm work with Pa, and Preston was a busy boy learning to ride and manage Pa's fine race horses. Melvin and Warwick depended on me for everything. And I loved being their little mother, and when I couldn't manage them I could always turn to Pa for help.

In the midst of all these changes and confusing incidents, I knew my Pa would never leave me. Handsome, fourty-threee-year-old Thomas McCarty might have seemed a shifting and unsteady anchor, but he was all I had, and I was sticking to him through thick and thin.

It was Mrs. Wakefield, our nearest neighbor, who finally came to my rescue. She knew what a load I was carrying; so she persuaded her oldest daughter to come over to our home twice a week and help me with ironing and baking. How I appreciated Ruth Wakefield! She was blue-eyed, black haired and as Irish as ever lived. She was twenty-four years old but there were times she could and did act my age.

It wasn't long until it was routine, when the day's work was done, for Mrs. Wakefield to watch over Melvin and Warwick while Ruth and I went horseback riding.

Neither Preston nor I would ever have dared ask permission to ride Pa's race horses on a pleasure trip. But Ruth felt no timidity toward any man, not even Thomas McCarty. In the cool of this particular afternoon, Ruth announced that she and Preston wanted to ride the two prize-race mares! Pa's mouth dropped, but he owned a lot to this neighbor girl who had helped all of us for many weeks. Maybe he saw Pres and me pleading with our eyes. Anyway, he suddenly nodded, and before he could swallow twice, his fine animals were bridled and saddled and going out the gate.

Ruth turned to yell at me, "Come on, Angie, you can ride behind me!"

Pa choked, but he nodded again, and I ran like a streak of lightning. Pa did yell out a warning as we waved at him. "Pres, see that you don't race those mares."

"Oh, we won't, Pa," yelled Pres as he proudly sat proudly sat the pace for us. We were gone longer than we planned, and Pres knew he just hurry back to take care of all the horses before dark. We were in sight of the house when Pres yelled, "I can beat you to the house, Ruth."

Down that lane we raced, and with me blued to the back of Ruth's saddle like a silly money, urging her to beat Mr. Smarty. Suddenly our mare shied at something, and the next thing I knew I was on the ground with Ruth and Pres leaning over me. As I started to get up, a sharp pain hit my shoulder, Press looked sick and turned to ruth with, "I reckon she's gone and broken a shoulder." As they helped me to the horses, I could think of just one thing, "We can't tell Pa! He'll skin Pres alive!"

Ruth was all set to go straight to Pa with the whole truth, but she had second thoughts. She wasn't about to give Pa a chance to get at Pres, who had deliberately disobeyed. She would go scot-free for the same crime, but Pres would be in real trouble.

"Come on, Honey, we'll get you in the house. We can strap your arm to your side and you keep you out of your Pa's sight as much as possible. I'd hate to think what he'd do to Pres if he found out."

Pa came in from his work tired and hungry, and the minute he hit the door he called out, "Angie, is supper ready?"

"In a minute, Pa." I tried to sound hale and hardy, but I was aching all over.

Ruth and Preston, looking like criminals, hurried to get the meal of the table. Luch for them, Pa was in a reading mood and did not look up until supper was ready. "Where's Angie?" he demanded the minute he noticed that I wasn't at my place at the table.

Ruth hastened to reply, "She's got a little stomach upset; she's stayin' out in the cool for awhile."

"Reckon you rode too far in the sun?" Pa seemed a little put out, but Ruth was changing the subject very quickly. Is there anything I can help you to, Mr. McCarty?"

Ruth later claimed that was the first time Pa ever really looked at her and he spoke very kindly. "We sure do appreciate your Ma letting you come over here to help Angie. It's mighty neighborly of you. Seems like nobody want to work these days. I've tried for two solid months to get steady help.

I felt feverish for several days, but that didn't keep me from enjoying all the attention given me by Ruth and Pres, or they were at my side at the smallest signal for help. About a week later, were beginning to relax, a little and congratulating ourselves for fooling Pa so well when he arrived for supper in a gay mood. He had just heard that there was to be a magic lantern show in Neosho.

"Get your dishes done in a hurry, girl, and well go see this new invention. They say it makes the pictures come to life."

Ruth turned to look at me and I nodded, and before Pa and Pres had the team hitched to the spring wagon, Ruth and little Melvin and Warwick had the dishes out of the way, she had the boys all spruced up, and out of the door we went. Pres was very careful to seat me in the easiest riding part of the wagon and I was actually very comfortable.

The show was on the second floor of a building, so I let the little boys go ahead and climb the stairs as fast as they could scramble. I was holding back, for I wanted to go as slow and easy as I could. I might have known that Pa would mess up my plan. He saw I was lagging a little, so ever the gallant gentleman, he caught my arm to help me along. I felt hot fire shoot through my arm and shoulder, and my stomach turned over, I stumbled on the next step and Pa cautioned me with "Careful now, Angie!" But he didn't know I had broken out in a cold sweat, nor did he notice that Ruth and Press stood stiff as pokers until I fell into the first chair I could find.

I guess a magic lantern show wouldn't mean much to children of today, what with all the good movies we got to see, but this show was the highlight of my childhood. The man who told the story of Noah and his Ark- just as Pa had read it to us so many times--and right there before us were the animals moving up into the ark, two by two. Of course, we could imagine the cows flipping the flies with their tails, or the horses kicking at each other, but we just had a good imaginations. It was enough to see them appear on the white sheet hung up on the wall. We talked about it for days, and even the little boys never forgot this first show.

The days went by, and my shoulder healed with Pa none the wiser. Did we ever tell him? We did not. We know when we were well off.

But now we had another problems. Mrs. Wakefield arrived nearly one morning to tell us that Ruth had gone to visit an aunt, who lived in another county.

I don't know to this day what caused Pa to hire Faith, the same Faith of Granny Lewis's conversation, to help us. Maybe he did it for spite, or maybe he just couldn't find anybody else. Anyhow, he did so--then his troubles really began.

With in a few days he received a notice from Ma Sallie that she was suing for divorce and was demanding her children because she did not intend to have hem under the influence of a harlot.

We could tell Pa was really alarmed by Ma Sallie's threat, for he sent that simpering Faith back to her home in a hurry. Two nights later he packed us into the spring wagon and headed for Arkansas. He had hardly crossed the state line when he was warned that Sallie had sworn out a warrant for him at Bentonville. Pa was not one to give up easily. And there he told us of his plan.

"We're going' horseback from here on. We've got to travel faster through the Ozarks. Preston, you will take Warwick in the saddle in front of you. Melvin will ride with me. Angie, you will ride back of James. , Marion you will be ridin' alone so you can drive the horses." (There were forty head.)

Do you think I could ever forget this wild chase? Here we were riding fast in the dead of night, and Marion holding all those horses in good order over bad mountain trails. We did have a bright moon to help light the way. I couldn't keep my teeth from chattering, for it was bitting cold. The horses, breathing into that frosty air, caused a mist to rise all around and over us. I leaned over to speak to Melvin. "See, Mel, we're ridin' on the clouds!"

Pa's voice was tern, "No talking', Angie!"

Marion had the houses ahead of us now, and he was climbing fast, when he stopped suddenly and signaled Pa to look back. Far down the canyon we could see a misty cloud moving nearer every minute. Pa caught up with Marion and gave a sharp order. "Turn into this side canyon quick, and not a sound out of any of you. That's officers following us."

A half-hour later the posse went hurrying up the trail, never dreaming that we were nearby, hidden by heavy trees. Actually, they could have hit us with a rock.

We didn't know it, but Pa had turned and was heading north toward Linden, Missouri. He had found out that his daughter Elizabeth (by Rebecca) was married and living in Linden. Pa knew she would take in his other children until he could make other plans.

Several days later we stopped in front of a neat looking place and Pa lifted me from James's horse. I took Melvin and Warwick by the hand and walked just back of Pa. Suddenly he stopped dead still and stared at a woman in the doorway. In a moment Pa said in a kind of a choked voice, "Angie, this is Rebecca McCarty."

I looked up into the kindest, sweetest face I had ever seen. This woman bent over me and put her arms around me and said very softly, "Angie, would you like to call me Aunt Becky? So many young'uns do." Then, just to make all of this really confusing, here come James and Marion running to hug and kiss this woman like they had known her forever. I had a whole lot of questions to ask, and as soon as I could I pulled Preston away from the crowd.

"Is she really my Aunt Becky?"

"No, she's your stepmother and my real mother, Just like Ma Sallie is your own mother and my stepmother. Both of em is Pa's wives."

"Sakes alive! Where does Pa get all these wives? Nobody else seems to get so many."

"You have to get a divorce from the government to get a new wife."

"What's a divorce?"

"It's a piece of paper says men and women don't have to stay married together if they don't get along."

"Well, that's nice. If you find you don't like a husband, then you don't have to put up with him."

Before I knew what was going on, Pres, who was thirteen then, grabbed me by both shoulders and looked me right in the eyes as he scolded me hard, "Angie, folks don't talk about divorces. They ain't nice so don't mention them to nobody. Do you hear?"

"Well, if Pa had them, they can't be so bad."

"You'll see when you grow up, young lady! They are mighty, awful wrong."

I was a little anxious to change the subject, for I didn't like to be scolded by Preston. "You don't think we will be stayin' here long, do you Pres? Pa seems kinda squirmy to me."

" I guess maybe he was a little surprised--hidin' out from one wife , then runnin' smack dab into another'n, " Pre's eyes were almost twinkling at the corners. He was finding something funny about all this.

My sense of humor was not that well developed yet. " I wish we'd get to our own house. I don't want'a be mixed up like this. Other folks don't do it."

"Now, Angie, don't start frettin', I heard Pa say he's going on from here by himself so's he can find us a place pretty quick."

"It can't be too soon for me!"

Pa did leave that very day on la long horse back ride. He must have known that Ma Sallie's divorce had been granted, and his job was to find a home for his children far enough away that Ma couldn't hear about it, Pa had some other important business on this trip, but we didn't know about that until his return in two weeks. He rode up to tell us he had a new farm and a new wife. We didn't know what the grownups thought, but Pres and I and the little boys were thrilled pink for the new wife was our best helper, our good friend and playmate, Ruth Wakefield.

If there was stinging or bitter remarks by these various women attached to Pa at one time or another, I never heard them. All I can remember was how kind they were to a bewildered little girl.

My own children and now my grandchildren have asked me why Ma Sallie deserted her children, and whether I felt resentment. You must consider how tiny and shy Sallie was, and how big and over powering Pa was. No, I never blamed her for leaving. I'm just sorry she didn't stand up to Pa and fight it out with him, but she wasn't brought up that way. Now can I be resentful when I have only sweet memories of her?

As for Pa , I know he was sinfully proud and stubborn, but one thing is sure, he took might good care of me and my brothers, I worshiped him, though sometimes I was afraid of him.

In no time Pa and Ruth had us settled in at Finley Creek, in Webster County, Missouri, and it didn't take Ruth long to discover a school house within a half-mile of our new home. I might have known she would start a campaign to get me into that school house. "It's time you got a lot o' learnin', Angie. You're smart as a whip anyway, and you can get a whole good start in three months of schoolin'."

"But Ruthie, you need me here at home. You know I can help you a lot. I know what hard work is."

"Now, Angie, I can make out all right. I a'm used to hard work, too, you know. You plan on going to school just as soon as the weather cleans up a bit."

I couldn't help but to be excited, but I was so far behind and so hopelessly ignorant, I felt shy about starting. I let ruth know about my uneasiness; "They say there's some starting at five years old, and here I am going on ten. I don't really remember my ABC's right good."

"Then we'll talk to your Pa; he can start you to reading again." "Oh, don't bother Pa. I can make out, I reckon."

But Ruth wasn't the modest, retiring wife. She walked right up to Pa without a moment's hesitation "Thomas, I know that you read well aloud from the Bible, and the boys say you are a good hand at figurin'."

Pa cocked a suspicious eye at this bold female who spoke her mind plain enough. "You would be flatterin's me, Mrs. McCarty," and Pa bowed to his waist as he mocked Ruth, "but what is it you want?"

Ruth gave him the benefit of her loveliest Irish smile. "I would be havin' you teach your daughter her letters again. She's goin' to school."

"Angie? School?" Pa's eyes were popping out of his head. "What does Angie need with schoolin."

"Your boys know how to read. You caught them how, didn't you?"

"Yes, but they need to know how to read for business--man's business."

Pa was giving Ruth his most charming smile, but she wasn't taking the bait.

"Angie needs learnin' for woman's business," Ruth spoke firmly.< "Pa throw back his head and roared, "You're the peppery thing, young lady. 'T wouldn't do for you to have to much learnin'."

"I'll make out, Thomas McCarty, but Angie is different. Times ae changin', and it ain't proper to grow up without learnin', it shows people are trashy when they won't go to school when they have a chance."

Nobody could say it and live, that any McCarty, male or female, was trashy. That settled it. I was going to school.

"Angie! Angie! " roared my Pa, "come here to me. Your new Ma is rasing' an awful fit for you to have some learnin', guess it won't harm you none."

When school opened in the early spring, I had relearned my ABC's and would even read well in the first reader, I was looking forward now to the first day of school. Ruth saw to it that I had a brand new dress, hoops, ruffles and all, with matching gloves and bonnet.

At the end of that first day, I ran about half of the way home, then I saw Ruth coming to meet me. I started yelling my head off, "Hurry, Ruthie, I got so much to tell you I'm about to bust." You'd have thought I had been gone a whole month.

"Now begin at the beginning, Angie and don't leave nothing out," was Ruth's greeting while she hugged me tight.

"First of all, our teacher--he's a preacher, I think--read from the Bible, and he sounded as good as Pa. Then we sang hymns; you know both of them:

"Approach my soul, the mercy seat, where Jesus answers prayer, and humbly bow before his feet, for none can perish there,"

"And there's the other one you like so much."

"We're out on the ocean sailing, Homeward bound we swiftly glide, We're out on the ocean sailing, To a home beyond the tide."

My! I did enjoy the singin'. Seems like it's the best part of school."

"Go on, Angie, what else happened?" Ruth was having as much fun as I was.

Nothing impressed her as much though, as my teacher's story of the spreading of the school in our country. He said we had lots of schools as far west as the Mississippi. He even predicted that one fine day there would be schools in every settlement in Missouri. Ruth pondered over this for a bit, then said, "There's no call for young'uns to grow up ignorant--like now is there?"

I think Ruth got as much out of the next tree months schooling as I did, and it was the happiest, most carefree summer I had ever known. I can remember dozens of happenings. There was the day our kind teacher brought strawberry candy for each of us. We had never tasted anything like it. There was a show at school, when grown folks came from miles around to se a ventriloquist who made a puppet talk, and a magician who made coins fall from his handkerchief and hens fly out of his hat. There was a big party for grownups, and I got to see my first hoe-down. Tight there I decided that if I ever got big enough to go to a dance and while around like that, I wouldn't ask for any other favors.

It was good I had some months of pure job, for there were some less happy days ahead.

Pa saw better farms and faster horses in Greene County, and he was talking a lot about both. Marion, in the mean time, had been courting Geriah Lee, and suddenly he asked Pa if he would consider letting the young couple take over this present farm. Marion said he and Geriah wanted to get married and settle Down right there.

Pa was pleased, but he had his plans postponed for a bit, for our dear Ruth had lost her first born son, and wasn't gaining her strength as she should. It was pitiful to see how Ruth and Pa grieved over this lost baby. Pa sais we would all be better if we'd just get to a new neighborhood. Summer come again, and we were in a new home in Greene County, but there wasn't a school with in miles of it. Anyway, ruth needed me at home, so I didn't have time to mourn over the lack of a school house.

Poor Ruth had to spend a lot of time lying on the bed: so she could watch closely every day. She said later she really was worrying over me, for I didn't sing and laugh and talk any more. She must have talked to Pa and the boys. She finally figured out that Miss. Jeanetta Angelina McCarty was just suffering from growing pains. She had the good sense not to nag at me and she promised me that as soon as she was on her feet again, she would see that Pa started a petition for a school in this very district. She would have, too, but by the time she had taken over in the house we were getting ready for a real shocker.
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER THREE

LOOKING FARTHER WEST

The boys said pa was troubled; he talked a lot about the world crowding in too much. He and his neighbors seemed to think local affairs, ordinary life and business under the control of the State of Missouri were coming along fairly well, but it was the Federal Government that needed to put its house in order.

The summer of 1858 men sat at our table and talked "tariff." Some argued that the tariff was a real necessity, while other said it was a protection for just one part of the country. You might know I hadn't the remotest idea what they were talking about, but I listened anyway until Pa signaled for me to take Melvin and Warwick outside, or, if it was after supper, put them to bed.

One subject I could understand was the awful slavery question. Pa hated it with his whole heart, but he gave a strange reason. It seemed this problems was splitting his beloved Democratic Party! That the arrogant new Republican Party was gaining to many recruits from Northern Wigs, Northern Democrats, and even Free Soiler. (3)

Pa slammed his first down hard on the dining table when he roared that politics was getting more and more confusing, and he couldn't honestly say he was a Democrat and a Free Soiler too!

It was my brother James, though, who sensed what was really bothering Pa. I heard James talking to Ruth, and you bet Pres and I were right there listening. He said Pa was really getting crowded out by farmers when he started raising stock. It took a lot more land to feed cattle and horses.

"What'll he do?" Ruth was asking for all of us.

James said Pa had talked to him lately about the out-west county called Texas. James said he had heard Pa talking to men in caravans heading west. They told him there was room for everybody, that it was a stock-raiser's paradise; that grass was belly height to cattle that spring gushed from the ground every mile or two: and that the colonies were springing up every where. The most important things of all was that the Federal government had stationed soldiers at forts just tem miles apart to Protect the whites from the prairie Indians.

James had started to walk away from us as we stood in the yard, then he turned to ruth to say, "I guess I better tell you the real reason that Pa is Worried sick. He's heard from some friends that Ma Sallie has found where we are, and she is comin' after the little boys and Angie."

How did I feel? Like a little scared rabbit with somebody pulling at my front legs and somebody else jerking at my hind legs. Ruth was a Godsend to me right there and then. I don't remember talking very much to me, but she started piecing a beautiful quilt which to was to be my very own.

Maybe the Lord had a hand in the next event, for in just a few days Marion and Geriah came by to spend the night with us. We were at the supper table when Marion announced, "I guess we'll be leavin' for Texas sometime tomorrow, Pa."

Pa questioned Marion back and forth, up and down; then he said suddenly, "Where's your first stop, Marion?

"Elm Springs, I reckon."

"Take Ruth and the young'uns with you, and wait for me there."

If Pa had shot off a gun right in the middle of the table, we couldn't have acted any more surprised. I don't remember what any of us really said. I do remember Pres letting out his best Indian yell as he stood up to grunt. "Me scalp palefaces!" We all laughed at him, and that helped all of us for the moment.

Then Marion answered, "there won't be Indians to fight, Pres. Uncle Sam has 'em under control now. They live just like white folks. But there as thick as flies. You'll get all the shootin' you want."

Pa sat right there at the table and made all the plans before you could count to a hundred. There would be three wagons, one to be filled with provisions. He told Ruth and me to get packing in a hurry. We would not take any furniture--just clothes, bedding and pot-vessels. Then Pa moved to the door and announced, "I'm going to Webster County to sell some property and bring back a few more head of horses."

That's when brother James, who had just turned eighteen, spoke up, "Have you sold this place yet, Pa?"

"No, but that won't be hard. Ol' man Baker has had his eye on it ever since we moved here."

"Leave me have it, Pa. I'm stayin' here."

"That you are not. I need you to help drive the horses."

"I'm stayin', Pa."

There was a long silence; then Ruth smiled sweetly and said, "They do grow up fast, Thomas!."

Pa matched her smile and shrugged. "All right, Son! But help us get ready as fast as you can. We mustn't hold Marion and Geriah up." Out the door he went, but Ruth walked beside him to the corral.

It was many years later that I found out what passed between them out there at the corral. (Goodness knows, I had a hard enough time worming it out of her.) Pa said tenderly, "Ruth, girl! You are rightly named, for you are like the Ruth in the Bible--'whither thou goest I will go; thy people shall be my people; thy God my God.'"

Ruth didn't swallow all that right at first, and she gave it to Pa with both barrels: "Yes, I'm going with you because I'm not the quittin' kind, but if you ever do this to me again, you'll wish I hadn't come along!"

Pa was surprised and downright puzzled, but Ruth made it very plain to him. " I need a little advance notice of your plans, Thomas McCarty! I am not one of your children; I'm your wife, and I want to make plans with you--not have yours thrown at me without getting any warning or having any say-so!"

I can imagine how really shocked Pa was; but he had the good sense to sooth Ruth by declaring he hadn't meant to be insulting--he was just in the habit of making decisions all alone all his life; he'd never asked help from anybody.

"It's time you changed y our ways, Thomas McCarty. And while you're about it, you better spread some o' your blarney near your daughter Angie. She's to quiet these days, and she wasn't finding anything to laugh about tonight. If you want my honest opinion, she's not happy about moving out there to the ends of the earth."

Pa reacted like she had slapped him in the face; then he whiled suddenly with, "Let's get back to the house."

Maybe you think I wasn't surprised when they appeared in the doorway and Pa roared, "Angie! Angie! Come here, I want to talk to you!."

I could see he was in a good mood, so I got to him in a hurry.

"How old are you, Angie?! He was teasing me; of course he knew how old I was, but I'd play this gave with him. "I'm eleven, going on twelve."

"Do you think you're old enough to ride Lady Jane to Texas?"

If he'd asked me if I could jump over the moon, I couldn't have been any more flabbergasted. Me? Ride his best race mare all by myself! For once, I couldn't think of a word to say; then I heard Pa chuckling, and I looked up at his smiling face. "Speak up, girl!"

I glanced at Ruth, who was all smiles as she nodded her head to encourage me to find my voice. " I can ride her, Pa!" I finally got it out and ran to Ruth, who knelt with open arms to brag and hug me hard, hard! Pa turned to press then and said, "You'll ride Polly Hopkins."

Most of Pa's horses could be worked to wagons or driven in a herd but no Lady Jane and Polly Hopkins. They would have to be ridden every step of the way to Texas; they couldn't even be led back of a wagon, because they would break the gait of any good race horse.

Pa was especially proud of these pares, for they were of the famous Steeldust strain--colts of a proud purebred Arabian mare and the famed steel colored bastard stallion named Steeldust. Though he was never listed in the "Who's Who" of the horse world, he became very famous because he bequeathed to his sons and daughters not only fine conformation, but very often beautiful coats flecked with shiny steel.

No wonder the whole family gasped when Pa gave me the privilege of riding his most prized possession. They were just as uneasy as I was, and the minute Pa got off to Webster County, Ruth and press started giving me instructions. Ruth said at the start, "Now, Angie, you know you can ride her, but you have to be calm about it. She feels you take a breath, and if you're nervous, she'll be nervous."

Pres admitted he was all in a sweat. "I sure wish you could ride astride; Lady Jane would do better for you that way, but then, Ruthie's ridden her enough that she is used to a woman. I guess it will be all right."

I just up and asked then why I couldn't ride astride. There'd be no harm in it. Pres grinned sympathetically, knowing ruth would give all the explanation necessary. "Angie, young ladies ride sideways. You know that as well as I do." Then she smiled and softened the blow, as she always did. "You can sit several ways in a side saddle if you get tired, but wait until Lady Jane settles down, and don't try it the first day out."

Preston told me later that Pa had instructed Marion to get out of Missouri as fast as he could. It seemed he wanted as many state lines between Ma Sallie and him as he could manage. By noon the following day, Marion had the caravan ready. He would be in the lead wagon, followed by Geriah, then Ruth. Pres and I would rive the rest of the horses.

I was holding James's hand when Marion came up to tell him Goodbye. I felt my throat tighten when my two big brothers were shaking hands, and Marion said, "We sure do need you, Bud, but I'm glad you stood up to Pa. Do you remember what Allen told all of us? When we were ready to--just go. I guess he meant for us to stay, too--if that's what we wanted."

We all turned to see Pres leading Lady Jane and Polly Hopkins to the roadway. As we walked toward the mares, Pres mounted quickly and calmly like the experienced jockey he was. Marion lifted me into the saddle while Pres talked to me in a quiet voice. "Keep your hand still, Angie, so she won't start pawin' in the air."

Then Ruth called out from her wagon, "Ride her around a little, Angie, so she'll know you know what you're doing."

It was just as easy as that, but I was several miles down that road before I could take a good, deep breath to the fullest another big thrill of my life.

Two days later our caravan waited for Pa at Elm Springs. He rode up at sundown driving three more beautiful horses. None of us could ever remember seeing Pa in such high spirits. It was wonderful to see him laughing and teasing everybody. He sat at the camp-fire and explained to the boys all the fine points of these horses he had just added to the herd. He teased Geriah about a new poke bonnet which she had so carefully hung on a tree nearby.

"You'll be leavin' it tomorrow morning, and poor Marion will have to walk miles back to get it!" Gentle Geriah was pleased attention and smiling made her so pretty.

Pa looked at everybody but me and remarked in a sad tone, "There's no doubt about it, but Angie has ruined my finest race mare by this time."

This was no joking matter to me, and Preston saw me stiffen up. Maybe he was going to defend me, but he didn't get to open his mouth, for ruth intervened with, "Too true! Too true! Angie's that heavy that poor lady Jane is a sway-back already!" Since I was nearing about eighty pounds, this brought a good laugh from all. I was so grateful for Ruth's remark. Even I could see something funny about that.

A little later Pa swung his youngest, Melvin, over his shoulder and put him down on his bed in the wagon; then he yelled at Warwick, "Come on Trail-Blazer. Up to bed with you. We got a long trail ahead." But Pa was smiling all the while.

I lay on my pallet in the wagon bed, along with Melvin and Warwick and listened to the camp fold up for the night. I could hear Marion and Geriah laughing over something as they made their bed down on the ground near their wagon. When they were quiet, I could hear Ruth and Pa talking softly as they lay on the ground not far from our wagon. Everything was so peaceful and the night so calm, but I was a little restless. I was thinking, "I'm glad I've had two days to get used to Lady Jane. The first day I got awfully tired, but I was better the next day. I'll be better every day from now on. I'll show Pa how well I can ride tomorrow......... I wish tomorrow was over, though!"

Early the next morning Pa broke camp and took the lead wagon, while Geriah and then Marion would follow. Ruth sat in Pa's wagon waiting for him to take the lines. I had a feeling she and Pres were watching me like a hawk as Pa lifted me into the saddle. I was trying to be as cool as a cucumber, but my heart was beating a little fast. Lady Jane was helping me out today; she seemed glad to have me near. She was all right, she was! I smiled at Ruth and Pres to let them know Lady Jane and I were learning to know each other real well.

Only one incident marred our first week of travel. The wagons had stopped at a blacksmith shop while Pa went into inquire the best roads south. While he ws gone, three dirty looking loungers sauntered over to look at our horses. I had ridden Lady Jane close to Ruth's wagon and was chatting with her, so I didn't see the men approach. They were within ten feet of Lady Jane when they started talking. "I'd sure like to have that animal."

The other one drawled, "I'd like that gun tied on that saddle, myself."

The last man sniggered and looked up into my face and said, "You-all take the horse, saddle and the gun. I'll take the gal!"

I don't know what came over me, but I wheeled Lady Jane directly toward the men and flashed around to the other side f the wagon. The men scattered in all directions, then gathered near the blacksmith shop to lean on each other and slap their thighs as they roared with laughter.

Pa had turned to see the men running and rushed out to see what was wrong. "What's happened here?" He demanded.

The men took one look at my giant Pa and sobered up plenty fast, but before they could speak Ruth called out, "Lady Jane got a little nervous when the men came close, Thomas. She's all right now!"

Later that day, when Pa had saddled a horse and ridden ahead a little to look over the wagon roads, I rode close to Ruth to talk over that nasty incident at the shop.

"Ruthie, I was so mad, I thought I would die! I could just tell them men were just plain scum, and I didn't want then near Lady Jane."

"I want to tell you something, young lady. You did wrong to lose your temper that way. You could have ridden the men down and killed one of them. You should have paid them no mind at all. A lady never sees a strange man, and she never hears anything they say. Besides, do you want to see your Pa grind them into the ground with his bare hands? Watch yourself after this. You're gettin' old enough to save your temper for something useful. We don't want any low- down, trashy fights on this trip!"

The next day was exciting because the wagons had traveled just a short distance out of Washington County, Arkansas, when Pa thought he spied fresh wagon tracks ahead. He yelled at me to ride in the wagon a spell and let him see what was ahead. He changed saddles in a hurry and told all the drivers to whip u the teams a bit. It would be good to travel with another caravan even for a few days.

We made good time until sundown; then we could see smoke and light of a campfire ahead. Pa told Marion to camp where we were; he meant to ride over and see if the people wanted new comers in their caravan.

All of us waited hopefully. Ruth and Geriah would welcome the change to talk to other women. I was so in hopes there would be a few "young ladies" my age maybe some little boys for Melvin and Warwick.

Pa came back in a short time, we could feel the smile in his voice. He must have a happy surprise for us. Leave it to Pa to keep us in a stew until every member gathered; then he acted and talked like this was all as ordinary as night coming on.

We're going to travel as far as Van Buren with a caravan of Mormons."

Ruth looked disappointed and Marion looked worried. He came up with, "How many wagons have they, Pa?"

"Seven, I think."

"How many people in the bunch?"

"I didn't count 'em, but I'd say about forty with the women and children."

"Were there more women than men?" ventured Geriah timidly.

Pa shouted with laughter. "Holy Goshens! I didn't count 'em! I didn't talk to a single woman. The men made me welcome and asked us to travel with them, and that we'll be glad to do." Pa was using his most empathic tone now.

"How did you know they wuz Mormons, Pa?" Preston was frankly puzzled.

"They told me. Let's eat." That settled that. Pa had the last word, as usual, but I wanted my turn. I went to the campfire to remove a pot of smothered meat, and there I stood with a long fire-hook in my hand. Suddenly I just couldn't keep still any longer. I found myself waving that fire-hook and shouting, "Mormons! Mormons! What on earth are Mormons?"

Nobody thought that was funny but Pa. He grinned at me and looked over at Ruth. Then he teased her with, "Ask your Ruthie. She can tell you all about 'em. One was sweet on her, and she woulda gotten hitched up with him id I hadn't drug her away from him."

I was fascinated by this tale. "Did he, Ruthie? Did he take you away from a Mormon?"

"Angie! To think you'd believe such a yarn!." Then she turned on Pa, "Same on you, Thomas McCarty for spinnin' such a tale!" I could see Ruth was actually pleased and a little flattered, but she covered up with, "Let's dish up the food, Angie. Fill the boys's plates to the brim. They're half starved!" Then remembering that she hadn't answered my outburst, she came to me and said in her very sweet way, "I'll tell you all I know about Mormons after supper. I lived in a Mormon community for a few months, that's all. Let's eat, now"

Supper was over. Melvin and Warwick were gathering stick-horses which they would throw away come morning. Marion and Geriah wandered off to talk by themselves. Pa found a grassy spot hear his wagon, sat down and leaned against the wagon wheel. This was his first time of day to enjoy a peaceful pipe. Pres and I sat on the other side of the campfire so we could be near ruth. We were ready to hear all about these Mormons.

Ruth told us the story about Joseph Smith, his revelations, his discovery of plates of gold and stones of crystal. Pres spoke up then, "Sounds as good as some of the Bible stories Pa tells us. Do you believe that fellar Smith really found them things?"

Ruth shook her head, but conceded that it didn't make any difference what she believed. "You can bet your life the Mormons certainly do!"

"They say," offered Pres in an important air, "that they're the most hated people on the face of the earth."

"Do you hate 'em, Ruthie?" I asked worriedly.

"That I do not. They seemed a God-fearin' people to me, and if folks would leave them be, I reckon they'd do not harm. O' course, the Federal government did have to force the men to see they can't have more'n one wife."

I perked up my ears. This was interesting. "Is that wrong, Ruthie?" Pres was disgusted with me. "Angie, you ninny, o'course it is!"

"It is not so," I snapped at him, "Pa has had three wives, and all of them are nice women. There wasn't a thing wrong about it at all!"

"Listen to Miss Know-It-All! Honestly Angie! You do bet all! Pa has had his wives one at a time--not all to once. Some o' these Mormons had four or five wives, or maybe a hundred for all I know, but all at one time! See!"

Pa broke this one up be getting up and yelling, "Time to turn in! We got a long ways to go!"

I never could leave well enough alone, so when Ruth walked away from the camp. I took her hand. When we were out of hearing, I asked her a question that I had no business asking, but I wasn't being mean. I was just curious. "Ruthie, does it bother you because Pa had two other wives?"

"Angie, girl! Why don't you wait until you're grown up to ask such questions? But you're the kind that always has to have an answer. It bothered me a little at first, but I was pretty young. I always felt sorry for those Mormon women who had to live in the same community and share the same man."

"Whew! Suposin' Pa was livin' with three wives at the same time!" My head whirled at the though.

Ruth actually laughed when she said, "Right there is where the Mormon church would a lost a mighty fine member! But don't you spend much time worrying over all this. Just remember I'm your Ma now!" With that she started running toward camp, and it was up to me to beat her if I could.

I remember we really did enjoy our days with the Mormon caravan, and we said our goodbye regretfully some days later at Van Buran, Arkansas. Pa shook hands with every man in the group and thanked them heartily for being so kind to his family.

The women gathered around Ruth, Geriah and me and smiled their goodbyes with scarcely a word being spoken. What sweet, patient faces they had!

I got around to some of the older girls and begged them to deliver a message for me if they ever ran onto my brother Allen McCarty, who was still in California. "If you ever meet him, tell him I still have the side-combs and the knitting needles he gave me."

Then the Mormon caravan headed north and west, while we turned south and west. The days went by fast enough, and I wasn't even stiff anymore after a day's ride. We all noticed that Pa no longer crowded his wagons to top speed, just kept a steady pace, and before a month had passed we found we were well into Indian territory of Oklahoma.

Except for a few trading posts and fewer settlements and forts we saw no signs of civilization until we came to Boggy Depot deep in Indian territory. We would never forget this stop, for our men had hardly unhitched the horses when a swarm of horse flies swooped down from nowhere and covered our horses from head to foot. Pres and I were shocked to see blood spurting from lady Jane and Polly Hopkins each time a fly took a bite. All of us waved our arms and swung our hats and bonnets as fast as we could, but the minute we brushed one hungry swarm away, another came into start biting.

Pa took over with swift commands. "Ruth, Geriah! Bring all y our blankets and sheets. Boys! Lead your horses to the creek and get 'em in up to their necks if you can find water deep enough. Cover their backs with the blankets and sheets.

These were Geriah's best new bed sheets, but she was only to glad to have them ready in such an emergency. Pa turned to look at this strange sight all the horses decked out in strange horse blankets, with only their heads showing. Suddenly he was laughing right out loud. "The Egyptians weren't the only ones! We sure hit a plague ourselves!" That made us all feel better, if Pa could joke at a time like this, we weren't in too much trouble.

The flies nested in the trees at dark, and the family ate supper and rested a few hours, but Pa was not about to wait until daylight when these pesky pest would start eating again. He awoke camp with a shot and yelled in his loudest voice, "Up with you! We want out o' this land of depredation!"

There was a chill in the air when we crossed the Red River and Entered Texas at Fort Preston. Our Pres was so pleased and taunted us all about having a fort named after him, but he was the only one having any fun and teasing us a lot. Pa, Ruth and Marion were looking worried. They could see there was grass and water and plenty of game but they couldn't understand why there were but a few settlements and these were far between.

Pa and Marion stopped at the Fort to talk to an officer and some soldiers. When they came back to the wagons they were not joking and laughing. They learned that the had provided posts throughout Texas for the protection of the whites, but those posts were miles apart, and the Indians numbered in the thousands. The officer had spoken very plainly to Pa, "It is best for you and your family, Mr. McCarthy, to take up land near a fort, else these red devils will run you out in no time. We have forts at Bellnap, Camp Cooper, Cobb, Phantom and Cranbourne. I'd head close to one of these if I were you. Go a little to the west to. The Indians have not hit there for a long time."

Pa didn't need to hear any more. He and Marion got into their wagons and drove them faster and faster; we didn't even stop at the little village called Fort Worth. There seemed to be plenty of colony land, but still no sign of that great horde of colonists that we had heard about back home.

The night were getting colder now, and we heard Pa tell Marion that they must be picking out a place soon now, before winter was really upon us. We traveled due west to Buchanan county, which was later called Stephens. Right at the extreme western county line we crossed Hubbard's creek. There all wagons trails vanished' all tracks stopped. Pa jumped from his wagon, looked in all directions, waited for all of us to come to him. He sounded very cheerful when he finally spoke to us. "I guess were the first white people to bring a wagon here. Here's where we stop."

Footnote: 3. Outline from The Record of America, Adams and Vannest. Compromise of 1850 was passed, and my 1852 it seemed the question of slavery was settled. The Democrats in their convention in June of 1852 unqualifiedly approved.
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER FOUR

SO THIS IS TEXAS

We had no time to decide whether we liked this new country or not. We didn't have to be told that winter was hovering around the corner, and a shelter had to be built. Marion Pulled out his sharp axe and felled the first tree; Then he looked up to see a one-armed man walking up the creek.

"Halloo! Halloo! Are your neighbors come to stay?" We turned to smile at each other and wave at the stranger. This was a fine welcome to this new west.

Tom Blake had heard that axe chopping a good mile away, and he wasn't one to sit at home when his help was needed. He pitched right in, and that crude cabin was up in no time at all. Then the men went a quarter of a mile away and put up another cabin for Marion and Geriah. I heard Pa Tell Ruth tat was a pack of foolishness, but Ruth insisted and Pa was to busy to argue, I think.

This was the first time in my life that I could remember Pa fretting because he was running short of cold cash. He and Marion were talking about this lack when Pa looked up at the huge pecan tree to the right of our cabin. That was the way out. Fort Bellnap, just twenty miles away could like as not use two-foot boards.

The next thing we knew we had saddled a horse, ridden to Fort and gotten a contract. When he got home, he put all of us to work in earnest. First of all, it was necessary to start cutting from the butt of this giant tree if the crosscut saw was to remain unbroken. It took Pa and Marion one full day to fell the tree; then Preston and I and that good one-armed neighbor, Mr. Blake, were told we were to work that saw. Pres and I stood high platform and worked one side of the saw handle, while Mr. Blake made good use of his one arm on the other side of that saw handle. Let 'em tell you, your arms would get tired, but Pres knew when I was giving out and would yell for rest.

The men calculated that the first four cuts averaged a thousand boards a cut: then dwindled to eighteen cuts for the remaining eleven feet of the tree.

While we were sawing away, Pa and Marion were working feverishly with frow, drawknife and jack-plane to make good looking lumber' then they were at it again, riving and stacking boards. When they had a wagon-load Pa hurried to the Fort to fulfill his contract for a thousand boards for fifteen whole dollars.

Melvin and Warwick, in the meantime, had gathered four bushels of pecans from the great tree. Pa bragged to them about their part when he showed them the money they had brought to this household. Can you beat it. Four bushels at four dollars a bushel. The boys had no trouble with their multiplication tables here!

Pa and Marion were busy for days making odd pieces of furniture from the pecan scraps, and then just to be sure there was no waste, the little boys and I piled limbs and brush on the big stump and had a big fire. Ruth said no nicer piles of ashes could be found. She and Geriah ran lye by the buckets-ful, then mixed that with antelope fat and had a year's supply of soap.

Before we knew it, that was the first hard winter was over and things looked much brighter for this McCarty family. It was time for spring planting, and already the horses were getting slick fat on the new grass. We were all in good health and waiting around for Ruth and Geriah to have their new babies. Wouldn't you know they would both have big bouncing boys. Marion and Geriah named their new son James, which didn't surprise me, for I knew how much Marion thought of his younger brother, James. Ruth and Pa settled on William for their baby's name, and of course, he never knew any other name but "Bill."

The first thing we knew there was a new family settled one mile to the north of us and another to the west. You may know we made them all welcome, and Pa and they boys helped them build cabins and put in their crops. Ruth and Geriah put forth every effort to do neighborly acts for the new women. That's the way people were in those days. We really depended on each other.

About this time Ruth remarked to me one day, "I'm glad to see that strained expression leave your Pa's face." I was very pleased to hear him laugh and tell jokes again. I think the things that surprised me most was that he took to playing with Bill every time he came around the house. I know that made our Riyadh very happy.

Seems to me, when everything in our lives seemed to be on the "ups', we should have remembered that plenty of "downs" were just around the corner.

We had no way of knowing, though, until many days afterwards that over in Indian territory the Apaches, Kiowas, Tonkawas, and Lapans saw their Comanche brothers preparing for an extensive raid on some whites. All the tribes watched with much interest as white men's horses became more and more numerous. Comanches could start the raids, but Comanches must not get all the new horses.

One beautiful spring night we, the McCarty's of Hubbard's Creek, got the rudest awakening of our lives. I sat up in my bed and yelled at the top of my lungs, "Ruthie, Pa! What is that?" Surely all the horses in the county were running around our cabin. When Pa Grabbed his gun and ran to the door, a wild, weird yell greeted him; then we heard pounding of horses feet moving away fast--then just complete silence.

Pa and Preston stood just outside the door peering into darkness. Then I heard Pres's trembling voice ask, "Pa, was... that Injuns?"

There was no need for Pa to answer. He and Pres came in quickly and barred the door. Ruth, the boys and I hovered around them; I tell you, we knew real fear! We talked excitedly, nervously until Pa cautioned us, "Hush! They may come back, and we've got to be ready for 'em. You young'uns get back to bed. Ruth, you and Pres, take the guns for that side of the cabin. I'll stay at this door! Angie, you see that the boys are quiet! Not a word, yo' hear me!"

Daylight came at last, and the unfriendly visitors did not return. Pa ventured out of the house very captiously the minute the sun was up. From all directions he could hear his neighbors yelling at him. Evidently all of us had been cursed with the same callers.

Tom Blake was running towards Pa cursing at every breath, "Them devils took my work team!" Pa whirled and ran in the opposite direction. We knew his heart was in his throat. But there in the corral, hidden by the trees, Lady Jane and Polly Hopkins waited for their breakfast. Pa looked over a small pasture in back of the house, and he had reason to feel sick. Two of his best Steeldust horses were missing. He rushed to the house and yelled at Pres, "Get a move on you! Ride out away and see if there are any more horses gone. I headed them south last night, I sure hope they drifted that way!"

The neighbors gathered at our house very soon, and each man reported he had lost two horses. This was a profitable raid for the Comanches. One of the older settlers remarked sadly, "They've found us now, and if we stay, they'll not leave a single horse."

Pa was plainly shocked. "You mean you'd leave your crops and your new homes to these devils!"

I mean we ain't got a chance, McCarty. From the tracks around here, I'd say there was over fifty Indians here last night. We've got to get near a fort before we are all scalped. If these are Comanches, we're done for. They'll be back and back until there's nothing left to show of us but our scalps hangin' from their belts.

Pa looked at all the men around him. These men had fought Indians for years; l they knew what they were talking about. He turned tp Ruth and me and said, "Pack up! Let's go by and get Marion and Geriah. We're leavin' for Fort Bellnap!"

By nightfall the settlement on Hubbard's creek was no more.
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER FIVE

THE YOUNG LADY, ANGELINA

When our little colony arrive at Fort Bellnap, Pa had no more misgiving about allowing the redskins to bluff him out, for this was the time he met John R. Bailor, a prominent rancher from Camp Cooper Colony. Mr. Bailor took it on himself to make the situation clear to all new comers in that part of Texas.

He was talking to the men of our crowd, but we were all gathered around him to listen. "It's this way, folks. The Indians have started on you people again. We just finished our turn, and let me tell you they came thick and fast for quite a spell."

"You oughta know by this time these Indians don't intend to stay on the reservation put aside for them. We've tried and tried to get Uncle Sam to send enough soldiers so we can push 'em back where they belong. It looks like we got to do the job ourselves."

Our men questioned him a lot about how to get at this problem. Mr. Bailor should have been a general; he knew how to organize. He told the men that all the ranchers around Camp Cooper had turned soldiers, and the real soldiers at the at the Fort were only too glad to provide ammunition. He showed how they dug trenches all around that Fort and put cannons on mule back to meet the Indians head on. He said the Indians didn't like to face fire that shook the ground when it hit. He sounded like a good preacher when he said, "We want to be ready for their nest raid and the next, and we want you people to get organized. That's the only way we'll get these devils to stay out of Texas!

One old settler told us later, "No wonder Indians hated Ole John R. They swung around his big ranch like it had a curse on it. One thing sure, ole John hated the smell o' Indians, and he had a mighty keen nose."

Our group decided to camp near the Fort, but in ten days there was still no sign of Indians, so the men ventured out, one by one, to take up land, build cabins and start planting again. Marion and Geriah decided to stay within calling distance of the Fort, but not Pa; he was anxious to be on the move again. He told us he hard of a man in Johnson county who wanted to rent his far. That seemed a likely way to get ahead.

My folks were thankful to find a far where the crops were well advanced and the cabin was clean and comfortable. We would have been every happy enough if only there was some cash handy. I was past thirteen now, and I was certainly old enough to know that Pa and Ruth worried about this lack of Money. I knew Preston would have been glad to hire out, but Pa needed him on the farm. They were both working their heads off. It was up to me to make the move; so without saying a word to any of them I went down to talk to Mrs. Swank who lived on the farm next to us. It wasn't hard to talk to her. She had always spoken to me when she cam visiting, and offered to lend me any books she had, for she soon found out I was more than anxious to get some more schooling. I finally got around to asking her if I could hire out as a housekeeper's helper. She was delighted to have me, but I told her there was just one hitch-- I had to convince Pa that this was the proper thing to do. She understood perfectly and wished me all the luck in the world.

I was so excited I could hardly keep from loping my house all the way back home, but I knew I must act cool and calm and very grown-up. Wouldn't you know this would be the time Melvin and Warwick even stopped their wood-gathering to ply me with questions. "Where you been? Why didn't you tell us so's we could go along?"

"I been visiting with Mrs. Swank. You go on with your work. I'll tell you about it later." I didn't need them hanging around me then. They were getting nearly as tall as I, and right now I wanted my rive feet to look seven.

I waited until I could find Pa and Ruth together. I wouldn't have the never to tackle Pa alone. I told them I had a job helping Mrs. Swank. She was to pay me a whole dollar a month for just morning's work.

I could feel Ruth holding her breath, but I was looking Pa right in the eye. That's how I was showing I was grown up. If I looked at Ruth, that meant I was asking for help. Pa gazed at me a whole minute, and I was expecting him to blow the roof off, but he fooled me again when he answered in his sweetest voice, "That's a big girl, Angie; I reckon we can use all the money any of us can earn right now."

Ruth and I smiled at each other. We both knew Pa was actually pleased.

This was a happy three months of my life. Mrs. Swank was so good to me. Even on our busiest days, she always called for a rest mid-morning and that was when we had our reading lesson. Then I could always take the reader home to study for the next day's lesson. She was so kind when I came to tell her that Pa had found me a better paying job, and I would have to leave her. She smiled at me and said, "I would be the first, dear Angie, to encourage you to better yourself, but come visit me when you can." I'll never forget that kind lady.

Pa explained to me that Mr. Charles Bonnard had built a mill in the district and was looking around for someone to cook for the mill hands. Pa even told me that Mr. Bonnard had heard that I was a right good hand; he had come to ask Pa if I could try the job. I was pleased that Pa thought I could handle such a job.

I left our house early enough each morning to prepare breakfast for twenty-five hungry men. I don't know or care how hard the work was; I was cooking on my first real cook stove. I remember hurrying home that first day to tell Ruth about this wonderful invention. It had "Golden Hard" written across the top, and it did look like a little harp. I could cook on the top of the stove and on the inside too. To my surprise, it was as good as any Dutch oven I'd seen. I told Ruth that some day we would have one in our house. The nicest thing about it was that it didn't < blacken up all the pot-vessels.

I worked for Mr. Bonnard for seven months, and I received two whole dollars a month. About the time I was beginning to think I was a woman of wealth, Pa suggested I'd best stay home a while to help Ruth. I knew her time was near, but the very next morning I went in to greet my new baby brother. I asked Ruth and Pa if I could name him. They seemed pleased that I'd ask for such a privilege. I looked down at his little red face and played like I had a sword in my had. "I name you Sir Richard!" I chose that name because Mrs. Swank had read me a wonderful story about a knight with that name.

Ruth was on her feet again and Richard was filling out fast all over. Pa announced suddenly that it was time to get hold of some land of our own. Surely the Indians were under control now. It wasn't long until Pa came to tell us he had some land in Erath County. This was an important more for Melvin and Warwick. They were growing up like weeds, and it looked like they might be giant men like Pa. They were so pleased when Pa let them help him and Pres build the new cabin, and even get behind the plow to put in new crops.

Everybody seemed busy and happy but me, and it wasn't long until Ruth took me aside to have a good talk. I could tell her exactly what was wrong. I was so restless because we were doing the same things, going down the same road, and we weren't getting any money ahead. Mostly though, I wanted to be out again doing something for myself. I didn't want to just sit there and rot.

I know Ruth must have been relieved when Mr. McClellan, a sheepman from Bosque County, came by our place and asked Pa if he knew anyone who could and would come help the ailing Mrs. McClellan. I was so thankful when Pa said, "Angie here is good hand at such." Mr. McClellan looked at five feet two inches of me and probably guessed I weighed all of ninety pounds. "You're so little Sis. I want a husky hand to do some good hard cleaning."

I surprised myself by retorting, "I can do anything any other woman can do, and my name is Angelina!" Mr. McClellan took another good look at me and grinned. Then he spoke in a polite manner, "You're hired, Sis.... I mean Angelina."

I am very proud, even now, when I think how many times Mrs. McClellan told me she thanked the good Lord for sending me to her. I felt the same way about her, and Mr. McClellan would never get over it when I asked him one day to show me how to shear a sheep. His best story, which he repeated many times, gave his version on the trials he had when I decided I could learn to plow.

He and I were going down a row in dead earnest, when he looked up to find some soldiers finding up to the field. He recognized an old friend, Sergeant Lott; so he turned to me and said, "You plow on out, Angelina, and I'll go see what's on Lott's mind."

Mr. Mac's story was that he had hardly shaken with Sergeant when asked who I was, and before he had time to answer, one of the other soldiers butted in with, "I heard Mac call her Susan." Mr. Mac said he just smiled knowingly and said nothing. The smart guy said, "I'll come and plow for twenty-five cents a day if you'll let Susan drive."

Another volunteered with, "I'll plow for nothing if you will board me and let Susan drive."

"I'll do better than that, Mr. Mac. I'll pay you twenty-five cents a day if you'll let Susan drive."

"That's a bargain!" laughed Mr. Mac.

I plowed on out that row and went onto the house. For it was nearing supper time. I went to the spring for a bucket of water, and when I came back to the porch, I discovered that Mr. Mac had evidently issued an invitation to the soldiers to eat supper with us.

Sergeant Lott rushed to the porch steps, took the pail of water out of my hands and placed it on the bench outside the door. It just happened that neither Mr. Mac nor his wife were there that minute to introduce me to these strange men; so I thanked Sergeant Lott for his kindness, nodded and smiled at the other soldiers and got to the kitchen as fast as I could, and there I stayed.

I could tell that the men were ready to burst out laughing, and I knew it had something to do with me, but I didn't know what the joke was, and I didn't find out until a month later.

Mr. Mac came to tell us some very stirring news. T. C. Alexander was raising a company of volunteers for the Confederate Army, and the whole countryside was gathering at the village of Meridian to attend a fare well dance for these volunteers. Glory be! The McClellans were taking me to that dance. Mrs. Mac said I was to have a new dress. It was made of dainty white swiss, ankle length with a full hooped skirt. I got very extravagant and bought a long blue sash for the waist, and I got a pair of black kid slippers. I put a beautiful red rose in my hair, and when I went in for the McClellans to look me over, Mr. Mac bowed and said, "Miss Angelina, you're a sight for sore eyes!"

We hardly gotten in the door of the dance when Sergeant Lott rushed up to Mr. McClellan and begged to be introduced properly to Susan. Mr. McClelland promptly turned to his wife and said, "This is my wife, Susan, Sergeant Lott."

The poor Sergeant was horror stricken, but recovered himself enough to bow courteously to Mrs. McClellan, who was enjoying herself immensely.

"May I have the honor for the next dance?" stammered the Sergeant.

"If you will excuse me, Sergeant, my husband has already asked for it."

Sergeant Lott escaped to the cool breezes of the outside and demanded of the first soldier he spotted in his group, "Who in the hell is that girl who stays at the McClellans?"

"Why, Sergeant, don't you know? That's Thomas McCarty's daughter. That's Miss Angelina."

"Thomas McCarty's daughter! I didn't know he had a daughter. You get in there and introduce me quick!"

The Sergeant hardly finished his bow to me when he started explaining what a blunder he had committed and how very sorry he was.

"I wish I knew what you are talking about, Sergeant. I am really very puzzled." I guess he could tell I wasn't fooling.

"Don't tell me Mr. Mac hasn't tole you about Susan! Wait until I get me hand on that man. I mean to make him suffer. He's been enjoying himself quite long enough."

This joke served it's purpose, though, for all the soldiers gathered around to have another laugh at their Sergeant, and, of course, I had to dance with each one of them. That's one way to get to be the belle of the ball. No girl in the whole world could have been more excited and happy for the whole evening.

I was very thankful I had been nice to all of them, for two weeks later they were all called to war, and I had no idea that I would ever see them again. This is how the Civil War that everybody was discussing became a reality to me.

As you know, this war between the north and the south barely touched Texas as far as battles were concerned, but these people of the far west begged for news from the battle front. Once a month the newspapers, Austin Courier and Galveston News, both printed on light brown paper, came to our isolated districts. That was when my reading came in handy. I read every word of those papers, and if any body asked me, I read them to those who couldn't read them for themselves.

In 1862, in the midst of the Civil War, the Homestead Act was passed. That meant that each new settler would be allowed one hundred and sixty acres at a dollar and twenty-five cents an acre. It wasn't long until our people were talking about all the new easterners coming in to take up farm land. They made it plain that they couldn't find work in the mills and factories, and they had no yet to get mixed up in this awful war. These were people who brought the latest news from the battle fields.

Once in a while Confederate soldiers came into the fields for corn. Pa was one who always willing to let down the gate for them, but he always warned them not to waste one ear of corn. These soldiers took cattle for beef when they needed it, but there were two brands they never touched. One was the Texas(a cross with a T on the top an S off the left end and an E facing down on the right end and an A at the bottom) the other was the MES brand. The first, spelled Texas, as you see, was the war widows grand started by the cowmen in the state. There were many unbranded cattle at this time, and when roundup time came, these strays were branded this famous Texas brand. After the war the increase in cattle wearing this brand was sold and the money divided among the war widows.

The MES brand was started in honor of Brother Mel Fleming, a Methodist preacher, who rode all of west Texas and brought the word of God to the settlers. The cattle bearing the MES brand finally provided the first church in Young County, just after the war was ended.

The war was to come closer to me than all this. It just happened that McClellans decided to move to Waco, and they begged me to go with them. Mrs. Mac explained that they had a very good female seminary there, and she knew I wanted schooling more than anything else. She knew she wouldn't have to use any other argument. Ruth and Pa thought it was a wonderful opportunity. Imagine how bitterly disappointed we all were when we arrived in Waco to find everybody upset by the war, and the seminary had been closed. That was one of bitterest pills I ever had to swallow. I just felt like sitting down in the road and crying my eyes out, but the McClellans looked sad and sick, and there was no use making them feel worse.

It was a good thing for all of us that Mr. Mac came in one day to inform us that his young cousin Sam was coming to visit before he was called to war. If ever there was a fair-haired Prince Charming, that twenty-one year old soldier was it. It wasn't many days until Mrs. Mac Noticed he was casting sheep's eyes at me, and she accused me on not discouraging him a bit. It was so romantic to be sending a handsome soldier boy off to war.

It was the rule then that each soldier was required to make his own tent, which must be eight feet, squared and stretched. Each evening soldiers and girls of Waco gathered to work on those tents. The men held the candles while the eager and thrilled girls plied needles to the course canvas. We were actually in a feverish contest to see which couple would finish their tent first. I was so proud when Sam and I finished first, and the others were gracious enough to admire my even stitches. (All thanks to Ruth, Mrs. Swank and Mrs. Mac, who allowed no sloppiness in needlework.)

In a few weeks the word came that these new recruits were to be shipped to Galveston. Sam, the McClellans and I were preparing to eat that farewell breakfast. Same was having trouble parting his hair and was grumbling about it so much that the Macs started laughing at him.

Mrs. Mac turned to me with, "Here, Angelina, you do it."

Not this girl! I'd been taught better than that by my Ruth. I laughed it off and kept on setting the table, but the truth was, I didn't want them to know my knees were shaking.

"Susan, you come do it. Miss Angelina is to lazy." Sam was using his most injured tone. Mrs. Mac frowned at me and said, "Don't be silly, child! Part his hair and let's get to breakfast."

While I was trying to control my trembling fingers, I was thinking, "I hope Ruth never hears about this. She had nothing but contemp for a forward girl."

Later in the day Sam said goodbye to everyone, and I hoped nobody say him plant a hasty kiss on my cheek. It was just a peck that hit some where on my right cheek, but I knew it must be blazing red.

In February the report came to McClellans that Sam had been killed in action. These dear friends were so grief-stricken; they didn't know whether they were coming or going, and for the first time that I could remember I was homesick. I wanted to talk to Ruth; I wanted to see Pa and the boys. I was also very curious about the new place my folks had acquired on the Brazos River in Johnson County.

As soon as I saw that McClellans were getting over the shock and strain of losing poor Sam, I asked Mr. Mac if he would take me home. I guess it dawned on them that I had been grieving too, for they helped me get packed in a hurry and wished me good luck all the days of my life.

It was good to be with my folks again, good to see fair-sized house and fine crops growing. Best of all, it was good to talk to Ruth by the hour. When I wasn't talking an arm off her, I was following the boys and Pa so I could know every square foot of my new home. That is why I wasn't very long in discovering that our house was in a poor location. It shouldn't have been built a half mile back into the field. I couldn't wait to tell Pa that I had found a spring close to the front pasture. It was perfect spot for the house.

Pa was just half listening to me, but he did answer, "Yes, yes Angie. I've thought of that myself, and as soon as we catch up a little we'll move the house."

The days went by, and I could see Pa and the boys were just as busy as bees, but I did have the good sense not to grind Pa about moving the house. It just so happened, though that Pa and Pres had to be gone a while week to haul salt from a salt lake. I watched them out of sight then turned to Ruth to announce, "I am going to move the house!"

"Jeanetta Angelina McCarty! It ain't enough for me to live in the midst of a cyclone most of the time. Here you go starting one all on your own!" Ruth actually threw up her hands and let me know she was washing her hands of the whole matter.

Well, she didn't say "yes" and she didn't say "no"; so I took it she would help, l but her heart wouldn't be in it. When I talked to Melvin and Fawick, they were really excited. If a little squirt like Angie could tackle that job, two big hulks could certainly do their share. What's more, a great big neighbor boy evidently dropped by to see what I looked like, and my brothers enlisted him before he knew what hit him.

Now remember, we studied this job some hours before we made the first move. It contained two sixteen-foot rooms. Our first problem was to take off the roof, which was made of boards three feet long, which were laid on weight poles of logs. Each board, each log was placed carefully, for, of course, there was not a nail in the whole house.

I marked every board and log with indigo just as we took it off. I knew I must not make any mistake there. I had a real problem coming up, though. This house must be level, and it must be square. I went to talk to Ruth.

"When you're weaving, Ruthie, you lay twine strings of the same length diagonally across each other; then the sides are even. Why can't I do the same thing on this house using ropes." Ruth nodded her approval and came to help me.

Now for the leveling! It was a disgrace to have a slanting floor. We placed beer bottles nearly full of water at each corner of the house. We poured a drop of water in each bottle. If the bubble stayed in the center, that floor was level!

It took us four whole days to get this house up again. Ruth was nervous as a cat having kittens. I wasn't sleeping to well myself, but the boys were having the time of their lives.

The day was at hand when Pa and Pres would be coming in. We could see the wagon approaching very slowly, and we were all going to meet it. I made the boys promise to keep their mouths shut. I wanted to bread this news to Pa in my own way. Ruth sat in the doorway and watched us run down the road.

The minute we got to the wagon, Pa lifted me to the seat and gave me a peck on the cheek. He was all smiles until he looked up the road; then he roared in his loudest voice, "What's happened around here? Where's the house? Who did this?"

"I did it, Pa." I could hardly get it out; I was that nervous. Pa drive the horses as fast as he could breathing hard and bellowing in harshest tones what he thought about interfering women. He jumped from the wagon without greeting Ruth. He examined the house throughly as he roared, "Who plumbed it? Who squared it?"

I explained in a very meek voice just how I had done these. Pa turned then to put an arm around Ruth, and all of us about dropped dead when he said, "Angie, you're a wonderful girl!"

I ran around the other side of the house so nobody could see me bawling my eyes out. Pa had actually given me an out and out compliment and the shock was more than I could take.

I was soon to learn that we were in a district where there were the best kind of neighbors. In the very next field lived Mrs. Lucy Jackson. She came to see us, so she said, to meet this daughter of the house. I loved her on sight, and she begged me to come see her when I had a few spare hours. I was inclined to think that the Good Lord had a hand in this meeting, for I was still upset about not getting to go to the seminary at Waco. Mrs. Lucy was just the kind of teacher I needed.

I found that she had just lost her husband in a flash flood, and of course I had to tell her all about my Sam. I felt we had much in common, and it was oh, so romantic! But Mrs. Lucy wasn't about to dwell on the loss of a loved one. She had so many things to show me. There was a real silver thimble, a whole set of china dishes, beautiful embroidered, pieces of tapestry, and rolls of silk and lace. I was in wonderland; I had never seen such beautiful things.

You may know I went down to Mrs. Lucy every day if I could, and she always had things for me to learn. She taught me to read the Psalms' she saw to it that I memorized the Ten Commandments, the Lord's Prayer and the Beatitudes. I heard her read many Bible stories and interpret them in a way which might have pained the preachers of our time, and my Pa, Thomas McCarty, would have denounce them as femalish and new-fangled.

One day after Mrs. Lucy was fully convinced that I was one eager student, she suggested that it might be well if she corrected my speech and taught me to write. She also thought it would be profitable if we were to take up one point on etiquette daily.

I couldn't get home fast enough to tell Ruth of my daily lessons, and it was Ruth who absorbed everything like a sponge. She tole me when I was really grown up some years later, that she had to keep up with me or she would have lost all control over me. She could smile about it in later years, but she wasn't smiling now. I hope I made her job easier when I suddenly "got religion."

Brother Fleming was one of the circuit riders who traveled many weary miles on horseback to bring the word of God to our isolated settlements. On one of his visits through Johnson County, Pa decided to take the whole family to hear this preacher. It was an all-day meeting and was held under a grove of trees near Squaw Creek.

Brother Fleming read the story of Peter and Cornelius. "Then Peter opened his mouth and said, 'of truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons' but in every nation he that feareth Him and worketh righteousness is accepted with him'"

The preacher was at the pleading stage of the service when he was asking people to come up front and declare themselves. "All those believing in God, all those wanting to feel His great love must confess their sins and be baptized."

I was sure I believed in God, but I didn't think I had big enough sins worth telling folks about. I wasn't objecting to a little water sprinkled on my head, but I didn't want to go up front all by myself. If somebody else would start, I'd be right behind them. Not another soul was in the mood that day. Then I listened to the preacher as he was getting wound up. "It's up to you, my brethren, whether you spend eternity in the bottomless pit of living fire, called Hell, or in the celestial real, called Heaven."

That made me defiant, and I was thinking to myself, "You are not going to scare me into this, Mister! Mrs. Lucy says that hell-fire, brimstone stuff is the wrong way to think about religion." Then the preacher looked saint-like as he raised his arms and sang out joyfully, "What a day that will be when His children gather around His golden throne. Don't you want to be one of that number?"

"Well, I certainly don't want to miss anything." I was really wrestling with myself, now. I was actually surprised when I found myself walking hurriedly up the way, and before I could turn and run, I was a new member of the Methodist Church, South. I've had no cause to regret that step, but Ruth said I really surprised my whole family.

It must have been just a few months after this camp meeting that tragedy hit the whole settlement. The Indians swooped down one night and left but a few horses in the whole district. Pa and Pres came in to tell us they had lot twenty head, but the bitter pill was that both Lady Jane and Polly Hopkins were in the herd that had been taken. Our people couldn't feel to sorry for themselves, though when the news came that the next settlement had worse disaster.

The Rangers had found the Indians, and there was a bloody battle costing the lives of five Rangers, but that wasn't all. Susan Dugan, her three children and her mother had been kidnaped by the marauders. The next report came in that Nancy Britt, a negro woman and her four children had been taken.

Word came in from friendly Indians that the Britts were being held for ransom. Jake Britt followed Comanches to fort Sill in Oklahoma, where he was told what ransom the Indians were asking. The white people in two settlements helped him gather the demands made by Indians. These included ten ponies, ten sacks of flour, ten yards of calico and ten sacks of sugar.

Britt's family came home, but Susan Dugan didn't see her people for four years. You can bet Pa didn't have to be persuaded this time to get to the fort. Of course, the corn in our field was just ready for harvest; so Pa called all of us out to the field, and soon neighbors were out there helping, too.

Pa had to use oxen to draw the wagons, for the Indians had stolen all the work teams. When we came to the Brazos River, we found it a raging torrent due to rains up above. All the settlers waited nervously for the water to lower. In two days and a half, Pa and the men could tell that the water had lowered belly deep to a horses; so it was worth taking a chance.

Our big wagon was driven by Ruth. She took little Richard, Melvin, and Warwick in with her. That wagon held our household goods. We waited nervously, while Ruth went into the river and across to the other side without any trouble at all. Then Pa nodded to me. I was to drive five yoke of Oxen hitched to the wagon of precious corn. Pa and Pres, on horseback, tied roped at each side of the wagon and rode along pulling at the ropes to prevent the heavy wagon from sinking in the quicksand.

I slowed the oxen into that now sluggish stream and all went well until we were about half-way across. One of the "wheelers" balked and was being dragged by the rest of the oxen. I had to do something in one hurry to make that sullen oxen move. I reached back of the seat for the ramrod of Pa's gun, and I really punched that stubborn animal. He jumped like he's been shot, and in a moment we were safe on the other bank.

The next job was to get our little herd of cattle across. Pa and Pres had driven them mid-stream when a large pile of brush came floating down the river. That was all that was needed to make these nervous cattle start milling around in the water. We all knew they could all be drowned before our very eyes. I started unyoking one team of oxen, and Pres knew exactly what to do. He brought his pony to me and drove the oxen toward the cattle. Pres and I both yelling our heads off to attract the attention of the cattle. When Pres came along side the cattle, he wheeled the oxen slowly toward my wagon, and the crazy cattle, obedient to any leader in such a crisis, followed the oxen to safety. When Pres came up to me, he grinned and said, "You're sure a help, Sis." There is nothing like a big brother who appreciated you and it's nice enough to inform you of the fact.
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER SIX

A KNIGHT COME RIDING

When we McCartys arrived at Fort Davis, we found that several other families had already found cabins in or near the fort walls, and of course there was a shortage of houses. Pa and Pres, with plenty of help from all of us had a crude cabin up very quickly, giving us a feeling of security because it stood just outside the fort wall.

I had the nicest surprise when I found my newest and best girl friend, Deborah Kane, was to be my next door neighbor. She was just my age, sweet sixteen, and we had the best times together. Ruth approved of this friendship, because she said Mrs. Kane and Deborah acted like perfect ladies.

While the women around the fort were trying to get their new homes in order, our men had a far harder task, for all their cattle and houses were turned out to range, and the had to watch over them constantly. They knew the Indians would come near the fort and even creep in at night to nibble at the edges of the herds, but Mr. Indian suddenly turned very cautious for riding into the fort came members of the Home guard, who were to take over the defense problem.

You don't have to convince early settlers that this Texas Home Guard wrote indelible pages in history of the Lone Star State. We were and are grateful to these men, on the outposts of civilization, who took solemn oaths to protect and defend their people from Indians and outlaws. They kept these oaths at the sacrifice of many hundreds of their members.

You must remember that during the Civil War, all Confederate soldiers were taken out of Texas; then when the war was over, it was years before Union men were sent to man the forts. If it had not been for the Texas Home guard, the Indians would have finished off the settlers in one hurry.

These guards or "rangers" as we called them, were pleased and excited to see settlers rushing toward Fort Davis, for it meant that the Indians were closing in, and that would mean some action for them. When things quieted down, there would be time for get-togethers such as big picnics and dances.

Deborah and I were al atwitter, for we had noticed that Ellie Clark 's band or rangers were all good looking and mostly unmarried. No wonder the prospect of the first dance had us floating on air. The big night was at hand, and Deborah and I spent hours primping and giggling. Ruth tried to be patient with us, but finally had to come in and warn us, "Hurry up girls. Thomas is ready to go and, and you know he can't wait for nobody. You're both pretty as pictures, and you can't improve it none by messin' with your hair."

Soon we were whirling from one partner to another to the strains of two fiddles and a guitar. It so happened that my partner of the moment finished our dance just in front of the musicians. I glanced over at them and clapped my hands, along with all the dancers. To show appreciation for the very good dance music and the excellent caller.

One fiddler, tall, dark and really handsome, smiled back at me as I stood within ten feet of him. I lower my eyelids discreetly; after all this man was a perfect stranger. I did notice out of the corner of my eye that the fiddler suddenly handed his fiddle to a new volunteer. Before the next set was ready, one of Pa's friend came up to be and said, "Miss Angelina this is Joe Browning. He's been pesterin' the life out o' me to be introduced to you, but I feel it me duty to warn you; he has hearts hanin' to his belt from girls all over west Texas!"

The heartbreaker bowed deeply and laughed heartily. Then he spoke in that warm southern drawl, "Don't you mind him, Miss McCarty; he's just jealous. I had to bribe him somethin' awful to get this introduction. Will you honor me with the next set?"

The next set happened to be a waltz, and I knew that fiddler had left instructions with the musicians before he came over to me. Joe Browning was a fast worker; he didn't intend to share this dance with anybody else.

We waltzed around the room once; then Joe said, "My! My! Miss McCarty, you're the best waltzer I ever danced with!"

"Have all the girls in the west heart that, Mr. Browning?"

I could see Joe blink, and then he burst out laughing. "Now, Miss McCarty, don't you listen to that skunk. He was just trying to plague me. I don't really know many girls in these parts, honest! Besides, you do dance very well."

I smiled up at him in my most lady lie manner. "You are a nice dancer yourself."

I knew this was going to be an usually long waltz because I had seen Joe wink at the musicians as we passed by. He did know all the tricks. When we walked back to where Deborah was sitting, that southern drawl caused my heart to skip a beat. "Thank you for this dance, Miss... Angelina."

My eyes blazed up at this daring young man, but I cooled down immediately. I could see he was begging permission.

"You're quite welcome..."

"Joe," he prompted, but I just smiled, for Ruth had warned me often about these "forward" girls.

It wasn't very long after the dance until Pres came in to tell Ruth that the whole fort neighborhood was gossiping about Joe Browning sparking Miss Angelina McCarty. Pres and the Rangers were betting high stakes among themselves that Joe would or would not win out. There were those who said Thomas McCarty would hang Joe's scalp to his belt if he ever got on to the fact that Joe was hanging around.

Pres was having the best time bringing in all this gossip, and I had a feeling he was adding a lot of stories on his own just to tease me, but Ruth shut him up good; she knew I wasn't laughing. I was plain worried that Pa might take a dislike to Joe and tell me to send him scooting.

Joe was just twenty-two then, and I must say he was smart enough to play his hand carefully. It doesn't seem possible, but two whole years, when Joe could find time from cow-works and Indian fighting, he managed to come by to our house to visit. I was relieved when he made many of these calls when Pa wasn't home.

Ruth, bless her heart, watched this romance flower; so she had the good sense to welcome Joe and get to know him very well. I could see they were getting to be very good friends, and that made me enjoy Joe all the more.

It took him no time at all to win over Pres and the younger brothers, but when Pa found him around, Joe was a perfect stranger. Pa was polite to him, but never friendly.

One day Joe came by to find I had gone visiting; l so he waited for my return. This was his chance to beg a little sympathy from Ruth. She told me later that he was mighty blue and discouraged, and he spoke some very plain words. "How much longer do you think I'm gonna to have to hang around here, Mrs. McCarty? Seems to me I'm making no headway at all!"

"Now Joe! Haven't I told you! Don't crowd her and don't bed her either. She's a McCarty, you know. They're a strange breed."

"What's really wrong, Mrs. McCarty? Sometimes I'm just as sure as Angie love me, but she won't admit it."

"The truth is... she's afraid of what her Pa will do."

"You mean....she's really afraid of him?"

"Not real fear, like you men mean, but afraid of his opinion... whether you'll live up to his proud ways, or maybe what he'd say if he took a dislike to you. Thomas makes a lot of to-do about family stock."

"Well! Hell! I ask your pardon, ma'am, I forgot, but who does he think he is? My family can match his anytime, and I can prove it!"

"I know, Joe, it's just that Thomas, like any other father, doesn't think there is a man alive who is good enough to marry his daughter." Well, I'm havin' it out with Angie tonight. Either we get married this month or not at all! I've fooled around all I'm going to. She's eighteen in a couple of weeks, and she's old enough to make up her own mind. It's me or her Pa. She can decide that. I offered to go talk to her Pa a long time ago, but she made me promise I wouldn't approach him. Now, she can do it!"

Ruth said Joe dashed out the door, got on his horse and was out of sight in a minute. She could tell by the set of his straight back that he was seething. Something was going to pop.

He came back to our house just after supper and asked me to go for a walk outside the fort wall. It didn't take him very long to tell me, in no uncertain terms, what he thought of this one-sided romance. I just stared at him, and all of a sudden tears were rolling down my face, and I was rushing into his arms. "Joe, oh Joe! I thought you were never going to ask me again!"

"Well I'll be damned!" Said my flabbergasted southern gentleman as he leaned weakly against the fort wall for support.

The next morning I bustled around the house singing at the top of my voice. Ruth didn't have to be told that Joe and I had an understanding. Near noon when Pa was due for dinner, I quit singing and started worrying. I thought Pa would never come in sight.

Wasn't it strange that I was suddenly thinking of what one of my brothers said to the other, those many years ago, "When you're ready to go... go!" I was also remembering that Pa raised Cain when they left home, but they went on just the same. I was talking to myself now, "Maybe they were just as afraid as I am now, but they spoke their mind... just like I'm going to!"

I met Pa quite away from the house and asked him to rest under the shade of a tree for a minute, for I wanted to tell him something. I had made up my mind and I was going to get everything said before he could start talking or arguing. Yes, I remember very well exactly what I said. After all, I'd been rehearsing most of the morning.

"Pa, I want to tell you that Joe and I want to get married. He wanted to come to you to ask for my hand, but I asked him not to, for I wanted to tell you in my own way."

"I know you don't know much of anything about Joe's people, but old man Anderson at Waco has known the Brownings all his life. You go see him and find out about Joe... and Pa, if he hasn't the right kind of family I .... I promise I won't marry him."

I looked Pa right in the eye, and He looked right through me for the longest minute; then he said, "I'll go tomorrow. Is dinner ready?"

Pa was up and on his way to Waco by day break that next morning, but he wasn't out of sight until I was moaning to Ruth, "I'm sorry I made that promise to Pa. What if Joe's folks are trash? I's not marry them; I'm marrying Joe!"

"Now, Angie. That's no way to talk. You've no cause to worry; Joe's folks are all right. I can tell you that. Goodness knows, I oughta know about them; I've plied him with questions for over two years!"

I found out from Ruth later when Pa arrived at Waco and hunted up Mr. Anderson, it didn't take him long to realize he had come to the right man. Not only did Mr. Anderson know all the Brownings, but he was mighty proud of the opportunity to talk about these old friends.

Pa found out that my Joe, was really Joseph Alansing, was the son of Frederick Browning, a wealthy plantation owner of North Carolina. His mother was Mary Lucas Burke of a distinguished family of Georgia.

Joe's father died some years before the Civil War, but there were four sons to carry on the Browning name. Some years later, Joe's mother married a Mr. Stegall. Joe was fifteen at the time and he decided it was about time for him to be moving out. It just happened that an aunt and uncle were moving west, and Joe asked to travel with them. He had one idea, and that was to become a real cowboy.

He got a job with Bob Sloan, and that paid him twenty dollars a month during that first summer. In the fall Mr. Anderson said he encouraged Joe to join the Texas Rangers, and that's when his salary raised to five more dollars a month. It was Sull Ross and his forty Rangers who needed a horse-wrangler; so young Joe started at the bottom job and was mighty glad to get it.

It was this Sull Ross and his men who finally killed the infamous Indian chief, Pete Nacoma. This was the chief who twenty-five years before had captured a little white girl, Cynthia Ann Parker. She was nine years old. When she was of suitable age, the chief made her his wife, and she bore him three children.

As Mr. Anderson explained to Pa, this didn't make white people very happy, and any Ranger would have given his eye teeth to get a shot at Pete Nacoma. It was Ross who killed him in one of the bloodiest battles in the war with the prairie Indians.

Joe told Mr. Anderson that when Ross and his Rangers rode into the Indian camp after battle, a squaw held her baby above her head and cried, "Don't shoot! Me Cynthia Ann Parker."

On the way home young Joe, the lowly horse wrangler, got to ride along and talk with Cynthia Ann. He said she looked like any other squaw, all brown from sun burn, but her eyes betrayed her. They were bluer that the sky above.

She was a real Indian mother, though. Her baby had been crying the whole trip, but when she and Joe came to a creek full of water, Cynthia Ann took her little papoose out of his bag and ducked him in the cold water. That baby quit bawling right now!

Joe stayed with Ross a few months, then asked to be transferred to Ellie Clark's band, and he had been riding the Texas range ever since.

Mr. Anderson concluded with his report with, "Joe's a good shot, good company and a good worker. Sometimes I think he's too good-natured for his own good. He'd give you his best horse and throw in the bridle to boot.

"Joe's accumulated a nice herd of cattle and some pretty good horses. I guess that's about all I can tell you except all my people were powerfully fond of Frederick Browning, and we sure like his son Joe a lot, maybe because he looked just like his father with that black hair and the honest- to-God green eyes."

Pa couldn't have been gone more than a couple of three days, but as far as I was concerned, it was months and months. When he did come in sight, Ruth suggested that we stay in the house and go on with our knitting and give him his own sweet time to tell us what he had leaned. We both knew there was no use trying to rush Pa' he'd keep us on a hot skillet as long as he could.

Pres and the boys came in from the field to greet Pa. He gave strict attention to each one, then led them into the house where he came over to Ruth to kiss her with unusual ardor, then turned to me as if he was asking the time of day and said casually, "When's the wedding, Angie."

On the twenty-fifth of January, 1865, the people of Fort Davis and the neighboring forts were invited to our wedding. Of course it was a glorious affair. Folks were glad enough for any excuse to get together, and a wedding was the best excuse in the world. What if we did have snow on the ground, and it was cold enough to freeze your bones solid! The men built a big brush fire in our yard, and those who couldn't get in the house could stand around the fire in perfect comfort.

There were thirty gallons of molasses boiling in a washtub so the children could have all the candy they could eat. There were cakes and pies all the coffee the grownups could want. My friend Deborah and a whole slew of young people served that crowd until daybreak.

We decided the last minute to have ceremony preformed in the yard so everybody could see. Just at eight o'clock Pa signaled for me to come out the door. I hope I was as pretty as I felt in my new white swiss dress with long, flowing sleeves, basque waist, and full skirt with tiny tucks from the waist to the knee. Joseph Alansing Browning was very handsome in homespun.

While firelight cast a rosy glow over the whole scene, Probate Judge Gadis E. Miller Pronounced us man and wife. Everybody rushed toward us to shake hands or hug and kiss us, but I remember one old with-looking granny, who wheezed as she cackled, "Land sakes, Angie, you she look purty tonight, but I hate to think what you'll look like a year from now! "
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER SEVEN

ENTER MRS. JAB

The old west that my people knew is gone, and with it are the old brands and earmarks. Once in a while I can find a son or a grandson of a west Texas pioneer who can identify or even draw these strange markings of ownership.

The most hated brand among cowmen is gone. That long arrow extending from shoulder to hip on a horse proved that the owner was an Indian. The slit ears, which infuriated any horseman, are also gone. A "four-eared" was positive proof that a redskin rode him.

Some beloved old grands are also gone, including John R. Bailor, the PEP of the great Pepper Ranch; the JS of the famous Sillman ranch, but the JAB brand and earmark still lives, though it is far removed from the Texas range where it was first coined from the initials of Joseph Alansing Browning.

Joe was just like a little boy showing me his toys when he took me out to show me his herd of cattle bearing his brand. He explained that there were only seven hundred head, which I gathered was a modest herd in his language, but it seemed to me that I had unknowingly married a man of means.

Always the tease, Joe explained that the reason he was so anxious to have me marry him so he wouldn't have to carry two brands, for we had the same initials. "Jeanetta Angelina Browning, you are Mrs. JAB now, and I hope I can plant that brand on a thousand head of cattle for you some of these days."

I felt that my new husband had just placed a mantle of purest gold around my shoulders and decked my coal-black hair with a crown of jewels, for nowhere in the whole world was there a more beautiful brand. This was placed on the left side of the cattle, not so large that it seemed showy, yet big enough to be identified with ease. The earmark was a little more difficult for me to master, but it wasn't long until a head bobbing out of a head with under crop the left ear and half crop the right told me that was Mrs. JAB's calf. I was so proud!

Now it was time for us to get settled in our own home. Joe had already looked over the newly evacuated fort, Camp Cooper. The surrounding range was in good condition, and there was plenty of water. That seemed Ideal for the seven hundred head of cattle and twelve horses. Joe asked me to inspect several of the small rock houses which were built around the large ammunition house. I thought the second one on the right was just the house for the Brownings.

While Joe was busy gathering his cattle and "throwing" them south to this new range, I had myself a good time putting my new home in order. Joe had bought a Seth Thomas clock, a bedstead with home made cords for slats, a four raw-bottomed chars of elm and pecan wood, but the prize was a little trunk. It was all of a yard long and maybe half a yard high, but such a pretty little thing to place near a window so everybody could admire it.

Pa and Ruth gave us six tin plates, six wooden-handled knives and forks, a skillet, four quilts, two blankets and a feather mattress.

I walked all over that fort gathering discarded canteens. They were just perfect to melt and shape into extra dishes. I was lucky enough to find at least a dozen quart beer bottles that hadn't been nicked or cracked. I got a whole set of glasses from these by breaking the neck off the bottles very carefully. You take a good stout string and dip it in turpentine; then you rub the string across the bottle where you want the top to be.

Now, mind, you have to rub hard, and every now and then you pour water on that hot string. Before you know it, the top of the bottle will fall off, and the glass will be left with a smooth even edge.

I was busy at this one day when Joe came in laughingly remarked, "You made me all tuckered out just watching you, Angie. Don't you ever stop working?"

He was teasing, as usual, but I was in dead earnest when I answered, "I have to keep busy, Joe; I'm the restless kind."

What my new husband didn't know was that I was heeding Ruth's advice given to me just a few days before I was a bride. You must remember in those days women, even women as close and congenial as Ruth and I talked little of marriage and less of marriage relations. After all, pure young maidens couldn't be told things they hadn't yet experienced. It wasn't decent for married women to talk to future brides; it just was not decent. But ever since I could remember, Ruth had always given me an answer when I asked her a question.

I guess I was bragging a little when I remarked to Ruth, "You know Ruthie, my marriage is going to be different. I am only going to have one, and I want to keep it as exciting and interesting as it seems to me right now!"

Ruth just smiled at me, and her face took on that patient look which was louder than any words. You could see she was saying. "Oh, I'll just let this scatter-brain rattle on. She'll run down sometime." That was all the encouragement I needed.

"Now that I'm grown and in love, I know a lot about you and Pa that I never realized before. I know now that you are the only woman Pa ever really loved, and I know why. It's because you understand him better than anybody else, just like Joe understands me."

"I want you to know, Ruth, that I don't have to be told that Pa has been hard to live with at time, but I know why... he's so restless, and I take after him; I'm restless too.... and if you want to know the truth, that's what worried me a little."

"Angie, girl, I been meanin' to have a talk with you for several days. This is as good a time as any. One thing you got to get straight in your head --- a woman can't live in this world like a man. Women can't act like men or think like æem, or the world would just blow up into little bits, and it wouldn't take long for it to happen."

"You and your Pa are a lot alike, Angie, more alike than you can ever imagine, but you can't do things the way he does. A man might get away with it but a woman would only destroy herself. I want you to remember that, Angie."

"You know yourself, and you think there is nothin' too big for you to tackle. I know you could do it and do it well, but Angie, women can't afford to be too smart. That's what you are, and it's going to cause you a heap of trouble if you don't watch out. You got to lean on your husband, to depend on him and let him know you're leaning and depending."

"You are right, Angie, you're both restless, and maybe there is no cure for it, but you can keep busy and pretty soon you do find more contentment. When you feel these spells comin' on, get up and so something. No use just settin'; get up and move!"

I was just setting drinking in every word my Ruthie was saying. Actually, she wasn't a very talkative woman, and I guess I was a little surprised to hear her actually preaching to me, pointing out things I had never even thought of. Then she really did turn preacher on me.

"Now, Angie, you joined the church, and I was right proud of you for doing it, but joining is a long ways from getting the religion a woman needs. You got to have it as a sort of guide or leaning post when the going gets tough, and you have to travel over some mighty rough roads. Maybe it's religion that makes a woman have such faith in her man. Anyway, it seems all kinda mixed up together, somehow or another. The thing I'm trying to say to you, Angie, is that I want you to keep your Bible handy and learn to read it as much as your Pa does. It's helped him a lot, and I know it can do the same for you."

Ruth had had her say and she was ready to get back to her weaving but I had some other things on my mind; so I plunged in.

"Ruthie, I guess I ought to be ashamed to mention it, but honest, I'm scared stiff of my first married night!"

I knew then, and I know now, if only a hole had opened in that nice clean cabin floor, Ruth would have thanked her God and disappeared willingly, but she was trapped. She turned a little white, but after a long minute she spoke very softly, "I'm sorry to hear you say that, Angie. There's nothin' to be afraid of. Just look at all the men and women who have been married, and they got through that first night all right. Don't let that fret you. Joe's a good boy, and that what counts."

I saw Ruth had recovered from one shock; so I thought I might as well try her out again. "Here's another thing, Ruthie. I don't want to start right off and have babies every year. I like babies, but I don't see any need to have a dozen to prove it. You know what I have a mind to do....I think I'll get some cotton or soft wool and stuff it æway inside of me' then maybe I could have my babies just when I want them."

Goodness gracious. I had really upset ruth. I couldn't tell whether she was just plain mad or scared pea green. Did she ever light into me!

"Angie McCarty, you listen to me and listen good. Don't you ever try a thing like that! You crazy young'un, you'd get cotton rammed clean to your stomach and it could kill you! If you don't want to have babies, you're not old enough to be married, and you better be tellin' Joe right now! Babies is part of this bargain..... whether you like it or not' so you better make up your mind!"

"Heavenly days, Ruthie! Don't get so het up! I want babies all right, all right, but I don't want twelve or thirteen.... and I'm gonna do something about it.... you just wait and see!"

"Well, I can't help you there. Seems the Lord is the only one that has any say, and I can't figure him out in this matter. Now come on, Angie let's get busy. When you start talking, you never seem to know when to stop."

I was determined to heed Ruth's warning about this restlessness. At first I could find dozens of things that had to be done to make our new home comfortable, but after a bit I found I was through with my housework by mid morning. That's when I begged Joe to let me ride with him as he rode among his herd. Joe was so pleased to have me around, and the days flew by. After supper I always took Joe's fiddle off its peg on the wall and asked him to play for me. Joe actually relieved to find I had a good ear for music and could stay on key. I heard him bragging while he chuckled, "When Angie really gets into a song, you can hear her a mile away, if the wind's blown' in the right direction."

We had been married just four short months when Joe and I looked out the door in the late afternoon to see a caravan approaching. It did not take us long to find we were going to have five families moving into Camp Cooper. There were the two Hitson families, Dalla Wilder, and joy of joys, my own Ruth and Pa and my five brothers, Pres, Melvin, Warwick, Bill and Dick. But the big surprise came when we found Marion and Geriah and their two little children brought up the rear wagon of the caravan.

Such back-slapping, hand shaking and hugging you never saw! You'd thought we hadn't seen each other for ten years. I just said it right out loud. "We're so glad to see all of you!"

Ruth hugged me hard and turned laughingly to Pa with "See! She's tired of Joe already!"

Joe felt just like I did. Our honeymoon had been perfect, and all you couples should have æem so they can get used to each other, but women need women folks and men need men folks; then you couples can appreciate each other that much more.

Now that the Civil War was over, we took for granted that the forts would be manned in a short time, but here was Camp Cooper without a single soldier. However, Camp David wasn't so far away, and it was getting to look like a strong hold-- not that we were expecting to need help from these soldiers. After all, it had been many months since we had seen or heard of an Indian. Why can't people smell trouble coming?

We had just settled down to a peaceful little community, and one month went by; then our men in camp arose early as usual to wrangle horses to find they had visitors during the night. Many of the horses were gone. My Joe rounded up his herd to find he had just four horses left. He was the leader of the men who went out to hunt the Indians.

As the men traveled north, they came to a deserted freight wagon and discovered the freighter, Phil Randall, had been killed by the Indians. Joe and Bill Hitson buried the freighter by the side of the road; then Joe took a kitchen knife from the wagon and scratched "Randall" on a sand stone and placed it at the head of the grave. We have been told that the stone remains there today, and though worn and faded by weather, it is still plain to read.

Our men rode on until late afternoon; then Joe realized the Indians had too good a start to ever catch up so he persuaded the other to come on in home. There wasn't any laughing or teasing around our hose that day.

The very next day John and Bill Hitson and John's little son Jess, who was just ten years old, Jim Wilson, a fourteen year old negro boy who had attached himself to Hitsons, and my brother Preston decided to round up part of their herds and brand calves. When noontime came they found a shady spot under some huckleberry bushes and decided they would eat a bite and then stretch out for a little rest. The Hitsons had dozed off for a minute, but Pres and the negro boy looked up to find a band of Indians closing in on them. The negro boy's yell brought everybody to their feet, and John Hitson took one look and gave a quick order to Preston, "Quick, Pres! Get to your horse and hit for camp. You can outrun any Indian you ever saw. We'll shoot æem off until you get goin', and you hurry back with all the men you can gather. We are goin' to need æem bad!"

My Pres never hesitated a minute, but ran his horse through the only opening in the slowly closing circle of redskins. The men said later, as Pres dashed through, five Indians turned to follow him, while arrows darted all around him. Pres never looked back once.

He raced towards the clear forks on the Brazos to find the heavy rains above had again filled the river from Bank to bank. There was no time to wait; Pres guided his horse carefully, letting him swim with the current. Two Indians plunged after Pres, but they saw their horses were being washed to far downstream; so they got back in a hurry to the companions waiting on the bank.

Pres knew he was safe now, but he had a mile and a half to race to the fort. Nobody had to tell him that he had to win this race.

I happened to be standing in the door of Ruth's house when I saw Pres dash though the fort gate. He was yelling his head off, "Where's the men, Angie? Indian! John and Bill can't hold æem off long."

I told him as fast as I could that Pa was the only man left in the fort; the other were out hunting.

"Go find Pa!" Bad news does spread fast, and in just a few minutes Pa and all the women were gathered around Pres to hear this dreadful news. Pres said that the last glance he had told him the negro boy had been killed while he tried to mount his horse. We found out later that the poor boy tried to pick up his straw hat that had blown off his head. That all hurt us because w all knew how proud he was of that hat.

Pres said he was afraid young Jess's horse had been killed and that John Hitson was trying to get the boy up behind him. His voice trembled when he said, "I guess the Injuns got them all by this time. There wuz just to many Injuns."

"How many Indians are there, Son?" asked Pa.

"About seventy-five, I guess."

Pa turned to the group and calmly, "Come, folks. We must prepare for an attack. These Indians are going to be awful brave with that many of them. Gather all the pitchforks and guns you have and bring them to the ammunition house. Fill all you buckets and pans with water and bring æem in a hurry."

We were all working feverishly, and in an hour we were gathered in the large center house and had bolted the door. We were ready. We had plenty of pitchforks to throw off burning shingles if the Indians set fire to the roof. Every gun was loaded. All we had to do is wait for the attack.

About five o'clock Pa saw Joe, Marion and the boys riding leisurely into the fort gate, absolutely unconscious of the excitement all around them. I ran past Pa and stood waiting for Joe to get off his horse. I must have been white-faced, for he rushed over to me with, "What's happened, Angie?"

"I thought you had run into Indians, too."

"Indian! Whata you mean, Indians?" But for once in my life I couldn't get my tongue untangled, and it took Pa to tell my men what had happened.

Joe didn't hesitate a minute. "Come on Marion, we've got to get to fort Davis and get some soldiers. The Indians won't cross that high water yet." We just stood there watching them go until Pa said sternly, "Let's get back inside."

Now we were to wait the hours out wondering how soon the Brazos would run down so the Indians would cross it.

In meantime Bill Hitson, with a muzzle-loading rifle, and John Hitson, with a cap and ball six- shooter, were attempting to defend themselves. They dared not shoot their guns in open range since dozen of arrows would find them before they could re-load. They had to get to a nearby bluff for protection; so John yelled, "Get to that bluff while I hold them off for a minute."

He raised his gun and took aim, and the Indians, knowing these shooting-fire weapons, rode slowly and cautiously while the gun was raised. The next minute John turned to follow his companions, and arrows rained down on all sides. It was at this time that young Jess's horse was arrowed from under him and the poor negro boy, trying to recover his hat, killed.

John Hitson saw Jess was in serious trouble and rushed to drag him back of his saddle. An arrow grazed John's leg just above the ankle, but he had no time to think about that. Bill Hitson paused for a moment to see if his brother and nephew were going to make it to the bluff when an arrow landed in his thigh and pinned him to his saddle. He did manage to get to the bluff, and in a moment John and Jess ran to him. John stood guard while Bill cut the feathered end of the arrow as near to his leg as possible then raised himself up and eased the leg off the arrow, leaving the poisoned dart standing upright in his saddle.

The Indians would not draw closer than fifty yards from the face of the bluff, but clambered quickly above and rolled rocks and threw spears at the horses until one pony fell dead and the other was pitifully wounded. One rock bounced on John's gun, causing it to fire. Those were anxious moments until he could get that clumsy weapon re-loaded.

An hour passed, and both wounded men complained of being thirsty. Little Jess lay on the ground and listened carefully. He believed he could hear water trickling in the gully to the right. This little ten-year-old took a cap box (about the size of a modern vanity case) and crawled on his stomach toward that pleasant sound. Sure enough, a small spring flowed from the bank. Jess filled his cap box and crept to his father with the precious water. He repeated this trip at least a down times so his father and uncle could quench agonizing thirst.

Finally the sun did go down, and kindly darkness hovered over them. The Indians pulled away headed south. They must have figured out that Pres would bring men as soon as he could, and their mood for battle was over. Indians never fought after dark if they could help it.

The moon came out just as the last wounded horse lay down quietly and breathed his last. The hours drugged on, and at four o'clock the moon went down. That's when Bill Hitson decided they'd better try to get to the fort. Jess could help them, and the fort was only three miles away. Within the fort I sat by Pa and strained my ears to hear any strange sound. Once I heard a faint call, and I grabbed Pa's arm and whispered, "Listen, Pa! I hear Indians!"

Pa strained to listen. After a long pause we heard that call again, and Pa jumped to his feet shouting, "That's not Indians! That's the Hitson s!"

The women screamed and ran to the door. There stood their men--wounded to be sure, but very much alive. Mary Hitson fell into her husband's arms, and I grabbed him around the knees. Everybody was covered with blood, but the blood would wash off.

"You're yelling like a bunch of crazy people," laughed Pa. "Wait a minute. I think I hear soldiers comin'." Sure enough, Joe and Marion and sixty soldiers raced into the gate. Now, you never saw a better celebration.

When daylight came, the mounted soldiers spent the morning going over the ground that the three Hitson s had traveled so painfully on foot the few hours before. None of them nor any of us had to be told how brave these Hitson s were. It was no surprise, after Bill had moved to Colorado sometime later, to hear that he was a famous pioneer of those parts. A number of us, well up in years, visited the museum in Denver where Bill Hitson's picture greeted us. It was good to look at a likeness of a dear old friend.

When the soldiers had finished their inspection, the Captain called all our men together and suggested that the whole camp move back to Fort David, where soldiers would be stationed for an indefinite time.

There was no argument from anyone after this trying experience.
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER EIGHT

MRS JAB, THE MOTHER

It was lucky for us this time that Fort Davis afforded enough houses for this group from Camp Cooper, and in a short time we were settled in our respective homes and the horrors of the Indian attack were soon forgotten.

Pa and Ruth lingered with us for a few days, then told us they were on their way to Fort Worth to make a new home. It was about five months later that Joe suggested we pay them a visit. I was so thankful that he suggested this, for I needed to visit with my Ruth. I knew it would be about four months until my baby was due, and I needed advice and comfort from my very good friend. You know, I wouldn't have dreamed of saying anything to my men folks. Gracious, no! Bother them with such trifles! Besides, it would embarrassed them to death.

It was nice, though, to be the center of attention on this visit. Of course Pa and the boys would never have mentioned that they knew I was pregnant, but they were just more attentive, and did little things to please me. I was mighty glad, though, that I had Ruth as a solid rock to lean on. I told her so.

"Honestly, Ruthie! You must be one woman in a thousand. Here I've had my wits scared out of me by all the talk the women give me at the first, and now you come along and make havin' a baby as easy as walking down the road."

We visited for a month; then Joe announced that it was time to go home, as Marion was probably worked down taking care of two bunches of cattle. When I started to get into the wagon, to my horror and disgust I burst out crying. "Oh, please excuse me! I'm such a little fool. I didn't mean to cry."

Joe came over and put his arm around me. "You're just nervous, Honey. I know I am, my self, a little. Don't you think it would be nice for Pa and Ruth to go home with us for a visit?" I looked over at Pa to find him gazing far out in the fields. He was having no part of this discussion. Ruth winked at Joe and went in to start packing. Pa went to the corral to hitch up his team, when were in our wagon, Joe started chuckling to himself, and then he let forth with, "That Ruth! She sure knows your Pa!"

On our way home we stopped at Weatherford, where I bought the necessary things for our new baby. There was white Canton flannel to make shirts and gowns, red flannel for petticoats, and calico for dresses especially calico with tiny blue dot in it.

As soon as we were home, ruth and I spent every sparing minute knitting woolen shawls and stockings. When my time was at hand, Joe went after the best midwife at the fort, who charged us thirty dollars in wool. She delivered a little baby girl who was named Diame.

I would have been up on the third day, but ruth demanded that I stay a bed a whole week. Naturally, all the Camp flocked in to see this new baby. They thought she was the prettiest baby around, but one elderly grandmother had to take us known a notch or two when she peered at little Diame and commented, "She looks normal to me--maybe a mite to little, but I guess you warn't so big yourself, were you, Angie?"

Since there were several women around, this old blatherskite felt she had to deep the center of the state. "One's nice, Honey, and you'd love a dozen, but women oughter not have to bear them all. I guess you-all have heard the story my Ma said her Ma told her. She said if men had to bear half the young'uns in the world, there'd be just three in every family. The man, te be perlite, would allow woman to have the first one; then he'd have the second; then it would be the woman's turn again, and that would settle it. No man on earth would go through such a thing twice."

Old granny laughed the loudest at her story, and the rest of the women laughed politely at this old saw which most of them had heard a hundred times. I grinned with the rest, but I was really thinking, "Crazy old goose! Makin' so much to-do about havin' babies. Why, babies are nice....actually the nicest creatures in the world!"

When Diame was nine months old, Joe and Pa decided that Indians had quieted down enough for them to try their luck in Miller valley which lay west of Fort Griffin.

I wasn't paying to much attention to their plans these days for I had some news of my own that I could only share with Ruth.

"Ruthie, I'm in a family way again."

"Well, Angie, you can have your family close together, and then the young'us will be up and out of the way in a little while."

"Oh, Ruthie! I'd have o more back bone than a rope if you didn't give me courage. What'll I ever do without you!"

"Well, I'm right here, Honey. Now, let's get ourselves moved and settled so you can rest a lot before this next baby is due."

About the time my second baby was due, Joe received word that his mother and stepfather, Mr. Stegall, had moved into Cooke County, Texas. This was the first time I saw Joe really restless, and he talked constantly about his boyhood days. One day I asked just as innocently as I could, "How far is Cooke County from here, Joe?"

"About a hundred and fifty miles, straight through."

"How long would it take you to ride that?"

"Silver could make it in sixteen hours, I reckon."

"Pa and Ruth are coming over tomorrow; why don't you go see your mother?"

Joe's green eyes said plain enough, "I love you for that," but a minuted later he remarked, "Suppose you have my boy before I get back?"

"Gracious sakes! I don't expect you to be gone all winter! You better get started right away and you do hurry back. I keep thinking how anxious your Ma must be to see you after all these years."

Don't you think, sometimes, all women enjoy being martyrs? I was certainly feeling noble until I saw Joe ride out of sight; then I could have bawled my eyes out, but I wasn't going to let Ruth and Pa see any red eyes on me, and what's more, when they came, I made it very plain that I had forced Joe to go see his mother, and he would be back in less than a week.

I remember Ruth's impish grin when she said, "That's fine, Angie. You're going to have company for a week. How do you like that?"

When Joe returned home, he brought his seventeen year old brother, Jim Browning, with him. Jim told me later that Joe talked about his Angie all the way home. He vowed his wife was the prettiest gal in west Texas, and all that stuff and nonsense. Just think how Jim felt when he saw me the first time, heavy with child and weary of waiting. But I looked at this tall, rawboned farmer boy and thought he was no bargain himself. His pants were much too short and were held up by one suspender. He did have a nice smile, though.

I wasn't permitted to peer into the future and know that the time would come when I would be so very proud of this country hick who lived with us for seven years.

Jim Browning became one of the fine lawyers of Texas, a member of the state legislature, Judge of Forty-seventh Judicial District, a Regent of the state university, and Lieutenant Governor for two terms.

Just at this moment, though, he was trying to cover his embarrassment at meeting all these strangers, while I was gritting my teeth and trying to look pleasant, fully aware that the first pains has started.

When the second girl was born, our little Della, I felt a little put out. After all, I had asked for a boy, and if you went to all this trouble to have them, seemed to me you out to get your choice. To Joe's undying credit, he never showed the least disappointment, and Ruth and I could have hugged him for that. Little Della was one of his favorites all the days of her father's life.
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER NINE

TWO GOOD MEN WITH GUNS

Joe and I were so pleased when Marion and his Geriah built a large hose a mile from us and invited Pa and Ruth to share this comfortable home with them. It was good to see my folks settled down and ready to enjoy old age. We all noticed how much more gentle and patient Pa was. That constant restlessness wasn't driving him to ends of the earth any more. I had to admit that old age was mot becoming to Pa. I was so proud that he was actually a very good husband to my Ruth, though one old harpy we had all known for years clipped my wings a little when she remarked, "Yeah! Thomas McCarty is a good enough man, but he had to wear out three good women to make him that!"

It was good to have our families with in visiting distance, and I was so thankful that my brothers and my husband were all good friends. It seemed to me that brother Marion and Joe were special pals. They both enjoyed good stories, good jokes, good music and plenty of company. Both however, were quick tempered, but as Geriah put it, "They didn't fly off the handle at the same time; so the storms soon blew over."

One day my Joe rode in home at noon from a hard drive. I noticed that he was not his usual merry, teasing self, but I thought he must be very tired and hungry as a whole; so I was hurrying to get the meal on. He ate very little and said nothing. That did bother me; so I was watching him carefully. He got up suddenly and started for the door; then he turned to look at me with his eyes so sad, and he said in a very hurt tone, "I found a JAB calf with Marion's brand on it."

"Oh, Joe! You must be mistaken! You know Marion wouldn't do a thing like that on purpose. You just know he wouldn't" Even the thought of it made me sick all over.

"Maybe not. I'm goin' over to see him about it...... now!"

I had read of people walking with fear as a constant companion, and of the tight bands settled around your heart because of fright. Now I knew what these high-flown words meant. It seemed like hours, but in a very short while I saw Pa riding toward our house with his horse in a high lope. I ran to the gate to meet him, and one look at his white face told me the story.

"Come with me, Angie! Joe's shot and he's killed Marion!"

"Why did I let him go?" That was all I could say, over and over as we rushed back to Marion and Geriah's house. My precious sister-in-law helped me from the horse and we were in each other's arms crying bitterly, "Why couldn't we have kept them apart?"

Nobody could give me the particulars of shooting. We surmised that both men went of their guns at the same time. Joe's shot hit the heart; Marion's struck the hip. As for the calf that caused the tragedy, no one knows to this day whether it belonged to Joe or Marion.

Right that minute we were to busy examining the awful wound in Joe's hip, and we knew we had to get him to Fort Griffin to the army doctor. The fort was twenty-five miles away.

It was Pa, of course, who gathered four neighbor men to carry Joe on a rawhide little, held by oak shafts. The men mounted their horses and rode two on each side of the litter. I took Diame and Della on my horse and we followed the litter.

When I started to ride away, I looked back at all my people standing together. I don't know how many were crying, because I couldn't see to well through my tears. I learned then what that part of the wedding ceremony meant which says, "Forsaking all other, until death do your part."

When the littler bearers finally crept into Fort Griffin, there was not one house available for us. Nobody could even find a tent, but one good soul let us borrow a bedstead, and another found two wagon bows which they slipped over each end of the bed. Some body else found a wagon sheet and stretched it over the bows.

At least Joe had a makeshift tent over him, but that cord bottom bed sagged in the middle and was far from comfortable, especially at night when Joe had to lie cat-a-cornered across the bed so the little birls could each have a corner to sleep. I had a char to sleep in and I could always rest my head on the edge of the bed. We were lucky that the weather was, mild and the girls could play in the open all day.

The army doctor came each day, and didn't look to pleased with Joe's progress. Finally, one evening the doctor found this awful wound had abscessed. It had to be lanced at once; so the doctor ordered me to hold the tallow lamp high over his head while he operated.

In a few days bilious fever set in and poor Joe was delirious for several days. He raved and begged me to get inside the fort. He thought the friendly Tonkowas, who passed by his tent each day, were wild Comanches on a raid.

We would have been in more of a strain if that kindly doctor had not arranged for us to draw rations from Uncle Sam. While we were there, we were issued five rations of bacon, pickled pork, tea, condensed potatoes and condensed eggs. Our big problem was to get milk and light bread for the little girls.

During all this trouble Jim Browning was off co-works for other ranchers, and had not even heard that Joe had been shot. He rode in home a month later to find only a yoke of oxen, a few hogs and nine shoats roaming around our place. Only two old hens remained of my large flock of chickens.

Of course, the minute Jim discovered what had happened, he rushed to the fort, and maybe you think we weren't glad to see him! He was just in time to help us move back to our ranch. Before we got in sight he stammered around a bit and said, "Angie, I hat to tell you this, but somebody came by and camped at the ranch for a spell.... just long enough to mess it all up. They stole everything that could be moved except that box of soap you had just finished making."

He didn't have to tell me anything more. I knew what kind of trash had been there. If they'd leave that nice soap. My gracious! There was a whole year's supply there!

The news that hurt me most, but I didn't let Joe and Jim know it, was that all my people had moved far out on the other side of Fort Griffin.

Joe seemed to worry; the Indians had driven off all his horses. Jim and I didn't remind him that it would be made months before he would be able to straddle a horse again. That hip pained him for months and months, and he walked with a limp the rest of his life.

Jim and I had no time to fret over anything. Spring had come and there was much work to be done. Jim rode hard during the day gathering Joe's cattle that wondered in all directions. I got busy planting a garden with one hoe that was left on the place. A good neighbor loaned me a loom and we bought enough wool to make thirty yards of material. Right then and there I decided that my men needed new suits. They were both proud of them and years later, when Jim was Lieutenant Governor, he let the whole state know that he never had anything before or since that made him feel bigger or better.

We did get to sell one cow for twelve dollars; and then as the cornfield began to yield we sold roasting ears to the fort to add a little more money to our skimpy pile. We found, though, the best source of income at the moment was butter. So we milked ten had of cows to get that precious better.

When fall came, there was a demand for beef; so we sold some steers and all of us breathed a little easier. I was determined, though to hold back four steers to trade for a horse, for I knew Joe was feeling well enough to ride again. Sure enough, we got the horse, and the minute that cowboy could ride without pain, he let out for Fort Picketville (Brekenridge now) for more horses.

Jim, at this particular time, was far out on the range working that drifting heard. That meant I was going to be alone for a few days. Before Joe left, he persuaded Old Henry Somebody to come help me with the chores. I laughed a bit scornfully and remarked, "That's fine, Joe. Ole Henry's not much on work, and less on brains, but at least he'll be some one to talk to."

When Joe was gone, I slowed down for the first time in over a year to take stock of myself. The last remark I had made to Joe was not kind, and I noticed the strange look Joe gave me. It bothered me more than I wanted to admit. When I thought things over, I had to smile at myself. The real truth of the matter was that a neighbor had brought the news that my brother, Preston, was going to be married to the sister of my dearest friend, Deborah Kane. I wanted to go to that wedding! I felt cheated. Such a wave of homesickness for Ruth and Pa and the whole shebang hit me right in the face, but I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself too long, for old Henry had to be told to come in out of the rain, of it there was a job to do, I had to go show him how I would be right on had to help him.

One night I had gone to bed early, for I was tired, as usual. I had pulled my bed close to the front door to get a cool breeze. I had just dozed off when a strange noise brought me upright in a minute. Then something jumped across my bed and ran out the back door. Believe me, I let out a yell and screamed for Old Henry. I ran to get a box of parlor matches that had been given me that very day. Now, you know, I had never used any but sulphur matches, so I wasn't prepared for the sudden pop that came. It scared the daylights out of me, but after three trials, I finally struck a light and held it.

I could hear hogs grunting and squealing in their pens near the corral. Something was rasing Cain out there--could be Indians!

"Henry! Do you hear me? Get up!"

"Whata ya want?" grunted Henry from the next room.

"Get up and see what is causing all this noise!"

"If you make me get up, I'll go to the bottom." (He meant the brush near the creek bottom.)

"If you start, Buddy, I'll shoot you before you get very far. You take this gun and get out there and see what's wrong!"

"It's Injuns, woman, and they're after difficulty."

"Well, give me time to put on my pants."

"I don't care whether you have pants on or not. Just take this gun and set under that castor bean in the yard, and shoot anything that comes by except a cow or a hog."

I was over my first fright now and went to the well on the right side of the house to draw fresh water for a drink. I heard Henry's gun snap, but no shot fired. "What is it, Henry?"

"The biggest c-c-cat you ever saw!" stuttered Henry.

I couldn't help laughing. "It's not a cat, Henry. It's wolves! Don't let them kill the calves. I'll put a tallow lamp on the gate post, and that will keep them away from the house." When the lamp cast its feeble blow, we could see wolf eyes peering at us in all directions. Old Henry, braver now, promptly climbed the yard fence and fired that gun.

"Did you get one, Henry?"

"N-n-n-no, he passed before the gun fired."

Poor Old Henry tried again and again to steady his gun, but he couldn't get a single wolf. I grabbed a bucket and started pounding on it as I yelled at the top of my lungs. The wolves were to startled to attack the stock, and by daylight they were gone as suddenly as they came.

Henry and I went to see what damage had been done. Several calves had been bitten, but with care, we knew that they would live. Two wolves lay dead in the corner of the corral where the angry mother cows had horned them to death.

Late that afternoon Joe rode into sight with a few horses and a small bunch of goats. Henry and I could hardly wait for him to get off his horse so we could tell him of the excitement the night before. To our disgust, he nearly split his sides laughing and kept saying, "Yeah? I'll bet there were all of six wolves."

An hour later the dogs ran a rabbit into a hollow near the house. Henry and I hurried over to smoke out some fine meat for supper. Joe was on the opposite side of the house admiring his new horses. Suddenly we were all startled by a great clamor at the back of the house. We all ran quickly to see the new goats coming over a little knoll followed by seventy or eighty wolves. Joe yelled at the top of his lungs, "Get my gun, Angie! Get my gun!" While he limped awkwardly toward the gate.

I was really running to get that gun at the house and to beat him to the bate. Breathless as ai was I handed him his gun, I gasped "All of six wolves."

Old Henry and I grabbed our buckets and started yelling like drunk Indians. The wolves wanted none of this and disappeared down the hollow in a cloud of dust before Joe could get near enough to shoot.

We didn't see any more of that pack, but we learned to expect wolves when the buffaloes came our way. I learned to put strychnine on fresh meat, and that made short work of the wolves. I remember counting as many as eighteen dead ones on our place. That could ruin a calf crop on just one visit.

Winter had barely set in when Indians began their raids again, and one night they drove off all of Joe's horses. It was a sad sight to see Joe trade his six shooter for a horse, then turn it over to Jim to ride after the cattle.

Food wasn't as scarce that winter. Joe and I killed nine hogs which we had fattened on wild pecans; then we used the small entrails from a steer to make stuffed pork sausage. Loading this in a wagon drawn by oxen, Joe gathered another hundred pounds of pecans and headed to Fort Griffin on a selling trip. He sold the sausage for sixty cents a pound and the pecans for four dollars a bushel.

Right then and there I went on a buying spree and purchased material for a dress--the first new dress I had since the Civil War, now four years past. Such a beautiful dress it was! Plaid gingham with plenty of red in it. Both Joe and Jim said it made my eyes shine.

The Indians were still bothersome; so Jim persuaded us to move near Fort Griffin. You may know we took some of our precious port with us as we moved. Old Henry was still with, us and he was told to put the pork in the bottom of the wagon.

When evening came, we camped out just in time for a sudden sower to descend on us, but that was no worry. All the grownups and the two little girls crawled under the wagon for a peaceful night's sleep. I awoke in the night to find rain pouring in my face, but it was a queer rain--as salty as the ocean's water. I was so disgusted that I awake the whole bunch by declaring in a loud voice, "I can stand pure rain water, but now water dripping off port. I'm getting up!"

Bless Old Henry's heart! He sat up and mumbled disgustedly, "Ain't rainin' no place but under this wagon. I'm building a fire." And with that he was up and had a good fire of mesquite, and he and I saw enjoying in lady comfort. Soon sleep overcame poor henry, and he toppled face forward into the fire. He was up and out of it before I could be of any help. "Confound it! No sleep! Never no sleep!"

While I was looking him over to be sure he hadn't burned himself, Joe and Jim were having fits trying to keep from laughing aloud. In a shot while peace was restored, and Old Henry had settled down for another nap. My Joe simply could not contain himself; this was to good to let go by. He started singing at the top of his lungs, "Old Dan Tucker, he got drunk. Fell in the fire and kicked out a chunk."

Old Henry was through, finished, done! He couldn't get any sleep; he'd see that nobody else did. He built up his fire, started banging skillets and the coffee pot while preparing breakfast. Yes, it was all of four o'clock in the morning, but Joe and Jim didn't mind; they were willing to pay for that good laugh.

We found a pleasant spot about two miles from Fort Griffin, and the men started a large log house, but I secretly fretting because the logs were not going up fast enough. June was just around the corner, and I wanted the bright new home ready to welcome our third child. I needn't have worried; we were in good order when little Bob arrived. He was such a fine baby and so good, but that was the way he was always, a blessing to us all his life.

Nobody could touch Joe Browning with a ten foot pole; he was that proud. Jim remarked one day that Joe acted like he was the only man in the whole world who ever begot a son. I noticed Uncle Jim was mighty proud of this new nephew, and it should have been a very happy time for all of us, but I didn't seem to get my strength back as fast as I should. I had never felt so tired and listless in my whole life. I kept telling myself that it was just because the excitement was all over and I wasn't ready for the humdrum of everyday living. I wasn't fooling myself at all. I knew exactly what was wrong. I wanted Ruth and Pa to see my son. What was the use of having him if I couldn't show him off a bit!

I should have been up on the fifth day, but I didn't hurry. I stayed in bed a week and two days and listened for horse hoofs to come up the road. One morning I had dozed off for a moment when I "came to" to find ruth and Pa standing in the doorway smiling at me. " I knew you would come!"

Ruth and I grabbed each other, and we were both crying. Pa was a little shaken himself. "Imagine Angie with a boy!" And he gazed down at little Bob as if he had never see a boy-child before.

Joe heard all the commotion from the back of the house, and he rushed in to see what was happening. He just stood there motionless, taking in the whole scene; then he moved toward Pa, holding out his hand in welcome. "How are you, Pa? Mighty glad to see you."

Pa shook Joe's hand hard and said, "You're lookin' fine." Then Ruth rushed over and put her arms around Joe's neck and kissed him soundly.

You can't imagine what this meant to me. There would be no McCarty-Browning feud that might have lasted through a generation, with senseless deaths and heartaches. My Pa and my husband were acting like civilized men, and I appreciated it. They could be friends again and talk man talk, while my Ruth and I could get back to our woman talks.

I was up and bustling around in a hurry, but I noticed that my Ruth was not well at all, and it came as a shock that she had suddenly become a very old lady, yet she was quiet. But don't get it that she was falling apart; she still did far more than her share of the work, and I was scolding her half the time to ease up and spare herself.

Those were the happy afternoons when we would get the baby and two lively little girls down for naps; then we would catch up on our visiting.

It was one of those afternoons that Ruth spoke her mind and gave me a priceless gift. "You know, Angie, you are finding plenty of work for your body, but you've got a mind too. I hope you'll start reading more. I've subscribed to a new magazine called "Literary Companion." I think you would enjoy it; I brought along all my copies for you. Here's the premium I got one month. They do send the prettiest pictures for special gifts."

I looked at this lovely picture of an old man and a little boy rowing a boat. That made me catch my breath, but the poem at the bottom of the picture has never left me. I read it aloud for Ruth.

"Manhood looks forth with careful glance,
Time steadily plies the oar,
While old age calmly waits to bear
The Keel upon the shore."