Our cattle
had done very well during the summer. All but one of the young cows had
had a nice calf and they had grown so fast. I love to see the calves all
lying in the sun on a little flat sunny place that their mothers would leave
them. When they had had their naps, just like all babies, they would all
stand up and bawl for their mothers. Their clean little white faces and
tiny white curls on their tails -- they were so cute and their mothers would
come running around the hills from where they had been feeding. These
were not milk cows, but were just raised for beef. We had brought two
milk cows and a couple of heifers that we hoped would make good milkers, but
only the two older cows were really good to be milked. Most of the time
we had plenty of milk but there were two or three times when we were low on
enough milk and would have to get butter for a neighbor. We had a cream
separator and I remember how all three children would catch the warm separator
milk while Clyde was turning the crank. I used a wood churn with a wood
dash that I worked up and down. To keep milk and cream cool I put it in
half gallon jars, sealed them up tight and dropped them in the barrel that the
cold pumped water ran through to the cattle tank. When I wanted to churn
butter I would take the jars of cream out in the evening, mix them together and
let it stand until morning. We always had cool nights out there.
We took a washing machine out with us, a wooden tub on legs with sort of a milk stool fastened to the underside of the wooden lid. When the lid was closed there was machinery on the top that revolved the milkstool in the water in the tub and cleaned the clothes if one turned the wheel long enough. It was better than rubbing everything on a washboard to get clothes clean, as our mothers had done. But it fell off the wagon in moving, breaking the wheel off and couldn't be fixed, so I had to use the wash-board after all. The water was so much better than we had had in Kansas, soft and clear, that I didn't mind too much. Of course all of the water had to be carried from the windmill and
We took a washing machine out with us, a wooden tub on legs with sort of a milk stool fastened to the underside of the wooden lid. When the lid was closed there was machinery on the top that revolved the milkstool in the water in the tub and cleaned the clothes if one turned the wheel long enough. It was better than rubbing everything on a washboard to get clothes clean, as our mothers had done. But it fell off the wagon in moving, breaking the wheel off and couldn't be fixed, so I had to use the wash-board after all. The water was so much better than we had had in Kansas, soft and clear, that I didn't mind too much. Of course all of the water had to be carried from the windmill and
I had to
heat it on the stove in the kitchen in a big copper boiler. Clyde made me
a good bench for my wash tubs and I had a hand ringer. Not much like our
beautiful electric equipment these days. Clothes had to be hung on the
line and out doors, no matter what the weather was, but I learned to heat my
clothes pins in cold weather. It kept my hands warm and kept the clothes
from freezing on the line.
When my dear Aunt May Talbot, back in Kansas, heard about Ruth's little horse being burned up in the barn, she sent her a check to buy another one. Clyde heard of some ponies, half Shetland and half Welsh, being raised up in Grant county; he decided to go up and look at them. He brought home a little grey mare, only two years old. She was pretty wild for awhile, and we had to send to Denver for a saddle to fit her, but she soon became a member of the family. We kept her in the house yard because she seemed so lonesome. She had never been away from her mother and the little herd of ponies where she was raised. She tried to go home several times. Once she got several miles away, for people would think she was a lost colt and let her through their gates. She finally learned to love the children and always wanted to share their snacks, anything that they were eating she wanted. Mildred was just learning to walk and would get up and walk under her, but Beauty never once stepped on her. When Ruth first started to ride her she threw her several times over her head. Ruth would get right back on and let her go as fast as she wanted to They soon learned to understand each other. She would let all three children ride around in the yard on her back, but we never let them try it out in the valley. She learned to help drive the cattle when Clyde needed help. Ruth loved to help her father drive the cattle.
When my dear Aunt May Talbot, back in Kansas, heard about Ruth's little horse being burned up in the barn, she sent her a check to buy another one. Clyde heard of some ponies, half Shetland and half Welsh, being raised up in Grant county; he decided to go up and look at them. He brought home a little grey mare, only two years old. She was pretty wild for awhile, and we had to send to Denver for a saddle to fit her, but she soon became a member of the family. We kept her in the house yard because she seemed so lonesome. She had never been away from her mother and the little herd of ponies where she was raised. She tried to go home several times. Once she got several miles away, for people would think she was a lost colt and let her through their gates. She finally learned to love the children and always wanted to share their snacks, anything that they were eating she wanted. Mildred was just learning to walk and would get up and walk under her, but Beauty never once stepped on her. When Ruth first started to ride her she threw her several times over her head. Ruth would get right back on and let her go as fast as she wanted to They soon learned to understand each other. She would let all three children ride around in the yard on her back, but we never let them try it out in the valley. She learned to help drive the cattle when Clyde needed help. Ruth loved to help her father drive the cattle.
Grandpa and Grandma Tilley came out the fall after the fire and Grandpa must have helped Clyde with the finances, although I just don't remember any details. At that time the Tilley men kept finances to themselves.
In the spring of 1916 we got a real carpenter to help us put our two frame buildings together, making a large kitchen out of the frame room that Clyde had the first fall and using the two rooms of the Haines house for the bedroom and living room. In the L formed by joining of the rooms Clyde added a nice porch where the children could have a swing and a sheltered place to play. Clyde's mother had sent out a new rag carpet for the living room. It was bright and cozy looking and I was happy to be organized again.
While our neighbor was still out on his claim he helped Clyde dig a "cyclone cave." They plastered it on the inside and put a strong wooden door on it, so if we needed to shelter from a bad storm we would have it. It also provided wonderful storage space for our winter supply of root vegetables.
I'm afraid I didn't appreciate Clyde's energy and ability to create the many conveniences that he added to our home, with few tools and no professional training except working with his father at home. He added shelves and cupboards to the kitchen and paneling to the wall board ceiling.
Our country was getting more and more involved in World War I, although the news was always several days old when it reached us, I don't think that it seemed as real to us as it did in the populated areas where the boys were drafted and being trained in the neighboring camps. Even the cow boys were not drafted in the sandhills for they were involved in important work: that of raising beef to feed the army.
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