MORE ABOUT OUR NEW HOME AND HIGH SCHOOL
That first night at our new home was truly something to remember. The shack--for that was all it was--where we were to live was even smaller than our former house! There was one long, narrow room that served as kitchen, eating area, and "living room." The latter area became the folks' bedroom at night, with the same old lounge bed they had used for years pulled out to make a double bed. Then there were two small bedrooms, one occupied by Jean and Mary, and the other by Robert and me. The outside of the house was covered with tar paper--so we felt right at home. It was very much like the homestead. There was only one door to the outside, facing to the east. A roomy cellar under the house had an entrance on the south side of the house. There was no attic, or "back porch" where we could have the washing machine. Thus that valuable machine sat in the kitchen, near the stove. The room was very crowded, even with our scant furniture.
Directly in front of the house, about seventy-five feet away, ran the Milk River, which formed the east boundary of the place both north and south of the buildings. The river was bordered by thick groves of cottonwood trees and diamond willows.
About forty yards south of the house were the barn and hay yard. The barn was terribly small, with room for only two cows or horses at a time. It had been the original dwelling on the place, a very small log cabin, made of cottonwood logs. The building had a very low door, and only one window. The hay yard was fenced, with the corn on which Robert and I had worked so hard and long safely stored there. There was a fenced barnyard, too, enclosing not only an open area maybe thirty yards by forty, but also a patch of brush, mostly chokecherry bushes. That sheltered area was where the cows spent most of the winter, as in the brush they could find some shelter from the wind.
Just west of the barnyard was the toilet, a sad little structure with only half a roof. In the three years we lived there, we never repaired that roof! The result was a very airy situation, indeed, with snow on the seat whenever snow fell. Just south of the toilet, and dug into the bank of the slough, was the chicken house, much like the dug-out chicken house on the homestead. It was well lighted by the sun, and was cozy and warm in the winter months.
There were no other fences on the place, except the outside line fences that enclosed the whole property. I don't remember just how large the farm was, but would guess about three hundred acres. Brush and trees covered a large part of the land. An old slough (former river bed) and an alfalfa field of about eighty acres lay just south of the house and barn. The remainder of the land was sagebrush "pasture." It was not a prosperous farm, by any means. There were no machine sheds, or machinery, for that matter.
But to me it was a regular paradise. Except for occasional trips from the homestead down to the river bottom land, for wood, or fishing, I had never had opportunity to wander around through woods, or have a river so near at hand. As it was late in the fall, and the land had not been grazed, we simply let our cows and horses roam at will all over the place. It was my job to bring the cows in for milking, as before, and that let me explore the whole place to my heart's content.
One of my first discoveries was an ancient and huge cottonwood tree that had but recently been cut down. Someone--we never found out who--had found that the old tree was a bee tree, and had cut it down for the honey. They had taken most, but not all the honey. I soon found that by reaching far up into the hollow trunk I could find and break off pieces of ancient comb, some of which contained dead bees, but some contained very old, dark brown honey. I had never tasted anything so sweet! I don't know what had happened to the swarm of bees, but there were none there that fall. I enjoyed many a sip of honey from that old tree before we cut it up and made it into firewood.
When we first moved to the Burke place, the land and surrounding area claimed my attention and interest almost as much as the studies in school. Altogether, our lives were very different from the days on the homestead. Very soon after moving, we began to go to church at the little Methodist church in town. This pleased our Mom immensely; she had long wished for opportunity to attend worship services, having been somewhat starved for that while living on the homestead. The Methodist church was an ancient building, rather small, with seating room for perhaps fifty or sixty people. The church was too small and poor to afford a full-time pastor, so it was served by the Methodist minister from Saco, a small town thirteen miles west of Hinsdale. The most influential person in the church at that time was Mrs. Chester, who was the widow of a former pastor. We had known Mrs. Chester for at least two years. She was the owner of the little shack near town where Robert and Jean had batched with the Carter girls while attending high school during the past two years. At the church, Mrs. Chester seemed different. She always wore black, I remember, and appeared very severe and sober. I think she was probably officially a Deaconness. Secretly, we kids were pretty much afraid of her. Her son, Milton, who was for some unknown reason nicknamed "Mutt," had the job of taking care of the furnace at the church. He also was chief bell ringer on Sunday mornings. The bell rope hung down from the belfry right in one corner of the entry way. To pull on the rope and ring the bell at the wrong time was considered a serious offense. But, oh, what a temptation it was! A boy could quickly give the rope a yank and be out the door before the bell sounded, and no one would know who had done it! I know one who yielded to that temptation more than once!
It didn't take long for the people at the church to find out that our Mom was a good musician, and appoint her to play the piano and organ, and direct the choir. So that first winter of 1932-33 found Mom and us three older kids having a part in the choir. Would you believe that I sang bass, despite my youthful voice? It was the easiest harmony for me to sing, so you might say I got to second bass before ever getting to first! Robert also sang bass in the choir. We three older kids also were active in the young people's group, Epworth League. We soon made friends with the other young people in the church, and with our fellow students in the high school.
One family, the Vogels, lived on a farm about half a mile east of town, and we usually cut across their land when walking to and from school. They had five children. Cecilia was the oldest and worked as a beauty operator away somewhere. Lawrence, next older, had already graduated from high school, and lived at home. Marjorie was one of my classmates and a very good student. Walter came next; he was a couple years younger than I. I spent a lot of time with Walter, chiefly tending to the cattle. Then there was Lois, the youngest, about two years younger than Walter. All the children were musical, and we had some good times listening to them play their instruments.
Mr. Vogel was on the school board. He was formerly a country school teacher and early-day homesteader. He had a reputation for being extremely frugal and tight-fisted--a habit learned by many of the early settlers. He and his wife were of German origin. Mrs. Vogel made a notable sour bread.
Another family, the Grants, lived on the farm just north of the Burke place. They had but recently moved there from near Saco, west of Hinsdale. We had great fun with the three Grant boys. Wyatt, the oldest, was my sister Jean's age, and a classmate of hers. Next came Melvin, a year younger than I, and then Chester, the youngest, about the age of our younger sister, Mary. We boys got along fine, and had lots of fun together. Since we lived so near each other, Melvin was often down at our place on one excuse or another. Their Dad believed in hard work for the boys, so they were kept pretty busy when not in school.
Since we lived much too far from school to go home for lunch, we took our lunches, and ate in the room the school had designated for that. We had lots of company, as many youngsters from both the high school and the grade school ate lunch together. Our little sister, Mary, was one of the grade school youngsters. After eating lunch, we could play out of doors (if the weather were good) or in the gym. There we must remove our shoes! No one could walk on that gym floor with improper shoes! We had a running battle with Mr. Rundle, the school janitor, about that; he watched us like a hawk, and seemed to delight in making someone leave the floor. As I think of those days, in that first year of high school, I remember one bit of difficulty I had. An older boy, a senior, I think, was something of a bully, and decided to pick on me. He was considerably larger than I, and would come up behind me, throw his arm around my neck and throat in a choke hold, and hang on that way until I begged for mercy. This went on for several days and no one came to my rescue.
Then one day he tried it once too often. When he grabbed me I was standing in the hallway, right by the railing designed to keep people from falling down into the gym six feet below. This time I reached up with both hands, grabbed his elbow, and by bending forward suddenly, threw him over my head and down into the gym! He landed with an awful crash, and although he wasn't hurt badly, he apparently was convinced that he should leave me alone after that. He never bothered me again.