Rediscovering memories

Marie Wheeler, Grandmother-in-law, was a young woman when her friends urged her to come to West River Country and file on an 80 acre homestead. There were available jobs, a chance to own some land, and adventure! Since Marie was an orphan, and accountable to no one, she heeded the call and boarded a train as far as Philip.

Her claim was near a little outpost called Marcus, and with fortitude, a strong faith in God, and good and caring friends, she made her way into the north country and picked a spot to put her shack.

When she wasn't at her homestead, she worked as a waitress, cook, and 'gofer' of a general store and eating establishment in Marcus. I would underscore this----Marie worked and Marie learned the English language. She was born in France, orphaned, and immigrated to America as a young child. When her aunt died, Marie was eleven years old. Basically, she raised herself from that point on.

So, the homestead shack was her first very own home. She loved all 160 square feet of it. She wall papered with newspaper, used apple crates for cupboards, kept a white tablecloth with bouquets of prairie flowers on her homemade table, and fulfilled the requirements needed to call this piece of ground hers.

When she was in her eighties she discovered her homestead shack was still in use. The daughter of her good friends invited Marie and her family to come and see it at her ranch, and so on a lovely South Dakota day, two carloads of us trekked up to Isaac's ranch. We loaded kids, food, and our spry little Grandmother and spent time reminiscing of homestead days.

We recorded Marie recounting how she paid $50 for her shack, and how the folks she bought it from hauled it to its new location. She also told us how she bought a Montgomery Ward saddle to ride her horse back and forth from Marcus to her shack. She was overjoyed to stand inside the doorway of her first home, and pointed out where she had placed everything.

For years the little cassette tape gathered dust in Justin's gun cabinet. Recently our daughter Jackie took it and recopied it onto a disk. Once again we hear Marie's voice, her laughter, and we relive that special day when the past  became the present, and wonderful memories were made.

Goodbye, Belvidere is a tribute to those brave and hearty souls who settled this country. And in 'A hundred and sixty acres', the brave and daring

Joanna takes a wild stagecoach ride with a driver who hitches broncs alongside of somewhat tame horses to complete his team. Meet Art Wheeler, the love of Marie's life.

Family stories are a treasure. On this beautiful October morning, I'm going to take the coffee cup outside and remember the folks who settled here before us to make this part of the world "home".

Have a good and Godly day!


prairieflowerbooks.com

Old boots etc.

 These boots are not made for walking. I found that out a number of years ago when I wore them to an all day and half the night affair at the Black Hills Stock Show.  Vanity can be a miserable companion. You have no idea the struggle the boot jack and I had getting them off at 2 in the morning. Justin shook his head and went to bed.

I still love 'em though. These Blucher boots were custom made in Fairfax, Oklahoma a number of years ago. When my first pair was wearing out, Justin suggested I order another pair. You could pick the design and color from a little catalog,and the Bohemian in me became carried away with color. Even the boot maker was dubious and double checked to make sure I wanted blue and orange.  I should have told the fine folks in Fairfax that these colorful characters  won a contest for prettiest boots on the Family Wagon Train. It probably helped that the wagon master was also Bohemian.

They're all polished up now and still look good. And though I've worn them quite a bit, they're not my first choice when we're working cattle. I save that honor for this pair: 

 

The green tops with the yellow butterfly was my first pair, and  Justin ordered them from Olathe, Kansas about 49 years ago. They carry me through dust and manure and lots of miles in the saddle. They're a comfortable old pair but lately they've been grumbling about retiring. And, they also tell me a little cleaning and polishing wouldn't hurt either. The sad fact of the matter is that after I'm done riding, my bones and body feel the same way these boots look. And, as one of the characters say in Goodbye, Belvidere, 'that ain't purty.'

Aw well, most likely the boots and I both have some saddle time left. Not only that, but I have the second book in the Goodbye, Belvidere series to write, and it's sure to include both boots and Bohemians.  Of course there's also grandkids to hug, and great grands to hold,  friends to have coffee with----new music to play-----maybe I should retire the butterfly boots and start wearing the horseshoe/heart ones more----after all, with all the help in the corral from kids and grandkids,  I could just stand on the sideline and yell encouragements. Oh, even better, I could sit on the four wheeler and yell. With a cup of coffee in one hand----

Have a good and Godly day!


www.joycewheelerbooks.com
www.facebook.com/joycewheelerbooks