The Ancestors, Part 4

The weather changed to beautiful spring and soon everything was green and birds were singing, mostly meadowlarks.  We had to learn to pick up chips for fuel for the cook-stove.  I had heard my parents talk about burning buffalo chips I eastern Colorado in the 1880s when they homesteaded.  They seemed to dry very soon after all of that rain.

There was a large prairie dog town in the McNamara valley, which was very interesting and entertaining for us.  They were such clean looking little animals, living under ground, but sitting outside until someone or something came near.  Then they scurried below so fast.  They ate the grass bare for several feet all around each borough, so were quite a menace.  Then there were the prairie chickens.  It was mating time for them and they gathered every morning in the valley for a strange ritual.  The little roosters gathered in the center of a large circle, while the hens circled around on the outside.  The roosters looked like little turkeys, spreading their tail feathers and making loud noise for an airbag that swelled up on their neck.  This strange dance went on for maybe an hour, then seemingly the hen chose her mate and two by two they disappeared over the hills.  This went on for nearly a month, but one had to wake up early to watch it.

One night after we had been there for about two weeks, we heard a rattling noise coming up the road that surprised us.  It was a man who was to be a wonderful help to us, in many ways during the first two years, but we hardly knew what to make of it a first.  He had come from his homestead about 30 miles east of us to farm a little on the McNamara place.  He put a cot in the little room that wasn’t occupied and next morning he brought a month’s supply of food in and piled it on my table and told me to divide it with Mrs. Frost, and that he would eat every other mean with us and the others with the Frosts.  We also had many hungry men stop at the end of the day to feed and water their horses and ask to stay in the barn all night.  Very few seemed to have food with them and I really depleted our stock of meant and fruit getting late meals for them.  The place was just a long day’s drive for them and they went on north to their homes with their loads.

Another attraction at the place was a habit of some of the cowboys for neighboring ranchers to gather with some unbroken horses and try to break them in the big corral connected to the barn.  They came with their chaps and spurs and ropes, outfits that I had never seen worn before.  Clyde just enjoyed all of this new and exciting way of living.  He had broken horses to ride at home and had learned to rope cattle and horses at home, so he could enter into the fun.

I marvel at the helpfulness of everyone when I think back, and also the complete honesty of all that helped unload our belongings in Keystone.  The hayloft in which our things were stored was without locks and it took a month at least to get it all hauled out.  Nothing was ever taken and there were so many that needed the very things that were stored.  Also the men drove the trail that went by the McNamara place were all strangers.  We never had anything taken.  They stayed in the barn overnight and left early the next morning with just what they had brought.  Even the house doors had no locks on them.

Bob Wilburn, the man who had moved into the little room and ate every other meal with us, provided to be a great help to Clyde.  He had lived out in western Nebraska for a long time and learned to build with sod, how to put a well down, how to plant in sod: so many things that were new to us.  He had brought a little mare with him to ride and it wasn’t long before he taut our five-year-old Ruth to ride her and was sending her out in the valley for the milk cows.  She loved to do it and learned to love Molly the little Mare, too.