This is a book my Grandma wrote about her father and the people that worked for him. I have electronically scanned it, and the pictures that she has made to go with it, and put them here. I haven't proof-read it thoroughly yet so there are likely to be mistakes where the scanner didn't correctly use the right character. I have found the obvious ones but if you come across any in your reading of it I would appreciate if you would let me know.

You can click on the pictures to see a larger images, however, they are quite large and may take awhile to load.

Dad's Hired Hands

• Prologue
• George & Maude
• Dad's Hired Men
• Thacker
• 1917
• Scotty -- 1914
• Paul Gates -- 1915
• Hay Men -- 1915
• Charley Empey
• Frances -- 1916
• Bette -- 1918
• Lawrence Woodbury -- 1918
• Dutch -- 1919-1920
• Frances & Bette -- 1923
• Levi Bradley
• Ruby -- 1924
• Beech's -- 1923-1925
• The Johnson's
• Paul and Edith -- 1930-1934
• Brother Baker -- 1930
• Brother White -- 1930
• Jim Key -- 1930
• Abe & Mark
• Hall Brothers -- 1930
• Sugar Beets
• Sleep & Ike -- 1933
• Tom Mix -- 1933
• Bird & Crabtree
• Teddy Sue
• John & Ruth -- 1937-1938
• Gus Fullerton
• LeGrand & Clarence Connon -- 1943
• Ishi Moto
• Jim Hughes

A great deal of history went down the tube the day the old Seegmiller farm house was demolished. There were countless tales that the old house could tell, for there were literally hundreds of people who had been sheltered within its walls.

The house originally belonged to the Woolly, Lund, & Judd freight company, and was used as a freight office. The building consisted of one large room made of sandstone with walls that were two feet thick. The road in front of the house was once the main highway between St. George and Phoenix. The yard behind the house was used as a camping ground for the freighters, and as a place for them to keep their horses. The high ground of the campground protected the freighters from the malaria carrying mosquitoes in the swamp below.

When my Grandfather, a new convert to the L.D.S. Church and fresh from Eastern Canada, decided to take out a homestead on the surrounding acres, he was able to buy the house along with the campground and corrals. By adding a lean-to on each side of the house he was able to make a comfortable dwelling for his family of eleven children.

When my Father took over the running of the farm, it not only became my childhood home, but the temporary residence of a countless number of hired men. When Dad retired he sold the farm to the L.D.S. Church.

I was told that the old house had to be demolished to make way for a new modern house, with electricity and running water, one that the Church could be proud of. I had always wanted to create a museum out of the old house with its yard full of old machinery, dump rakes, mowers, plows, harrows, discs, and manure spreaders, but I was told that there just wasn't room for all that old junk, and that the machinery was too old and obsolete and had to be hauled away.

The old shed that housed the work bench, and the old stone grinders and machinery that couldn't stand the weather was also demolished. A new building that houses tractors and all sorts of mechanized equipment now stands in its stead. The horse pond, where we children used to play and catch pollywogs, has been covered up, for there are no longer any horses left to drink. The broken plots of land, with their numerous ditch banks, were covered every spring with asparagus and dandelions. These have now been terraced and made into a straight field framed on all sides by cement ditches. The hill preceding the house, where we used to hunt for arrowheads and broken bits of Indian pottery, has been leveled and put under cultivation. Instead of the huge stacks of hay in the stockyard, which were put there by derrick and hay forks, there now stands several skyscrapers of bailed hay hoisted to unbelievable heights all done with automatic lifters.

It is amazing to think that when my Grandfather came to St. George in 1868 the beautiful farm now owned by the L.D.S. church, was nothing more than hills and gullies covered with rabbit brush and mesquite and a marshy swamp. Grandpa's friends laughed at him when he told them that he intended to homestead in the Washington fields. His choice of land was rather poor since it was the last homestead entry left, but he decided to take it anyway. When Grandpa eyed the abundant water in the Virgin River, he smiled and said, "By golly, I believe that I can make land, but I can't make water."

Grandfather had already plowed most of his life into this land by the time my Father was ready to take it over, and even then it was considered one of the best farms around, and my Father planned to make it the best. He was somewhat of a water genius. He had the knack of making water go twice as far as anyone else. He terraced the land so that the water from one field drained onto the next one. He drained the swamps and made holding ponds to conserve the waste water. He made good land out of brush pastures and rocky hills. In the days when dirt was moved with a horse scraper, this was an almost impossible task, but he had a dream of what could be done, and with almost nothing but his bare hands he proceeded to make his dream come true. However, he always had the help of one and sometimes several hired men. A good share of his help came from the countless vagabonds that roamed through the country during the depression. This was a time when a man was grateful to have a place to lay his head down at night and something to fill his belly in the morning, The Seegmillers always set a good table and nobody was ever sent away hungry from their door. Consequently, their place attracted every hobo that came by.

This is the story of my Father's struggles and successes, and of those hundreds of men who helped him. Some of them stayed only a few days and became only a face and a memory. Some stayed only long enough to help with a cutting of hay and earn enough to further their travels. However some lingered on for years to become dear, dear friends and adopted members of the family. This is the story of my family, the farm, and Dad's Hired Hands.

Progress has taken all the romance, the blood, sweat, and tears out of farming. That I might recreate and preserve some of the customs and memories of our good old by-gone days, I will try to tell our story. I would like to preserve some of the old customs and word usage that is now passed. Most of all, I would like to pay tribute to my parents, my grandparents, and those countless human beings, both young and old, who have made this project possible.

TOC

The principal characters in this story are George Harmon and Maude Rosemond Miles Seegmiller my parents. A more delightful, generous, hardworking couple never existed.

My parents were like the old colloquium that states, different as night and day, yet in the things that counted they were as alike as two peas in a pod. They had many things in common, but just as many differences in character, personality, and likes and dislikes. Still, they managed to live together for nearly sixty-four years, not always in peace and harmony, but always with love and a sense of commitment. In order to understand these two dear people it is necessary to know something of their background.

In the first yearbook put out by the Dixie Academy in the year of 1913, Maude was described as a "tiny, pretty, darling she." And indeed she was just that with her big brown eyes, curly auburn hair, and less than five feet tall. Maude was adored by most everyone that knew her. She was popular with both boys and girls. She was really not a flirt, she just liked people.

One thing Maude and George had in common was their religion and their relationship to their Church. Maude's family had belonged to the Church from the very beginning, having been close friends with the Prophet Joseph Smith. Both of her Grandfathers volunteered to go with the Mormon Battalion, and both of them were called in the first company that was called to help settle St. George. Both of her parents were among the first children born after settling there. Her ancestors fought in the American Revolutionary War.

Maude's Father was in the leather business, a harness maker by trade, and owned his own shop in town. Her parents owned a lovely home and were considered very socially prominent. Her parents enjoyed entertaining at parties and dinners. Every holiday was celebrated, especially Christmas and birthdays. Her Father especially enjoyed bringing friends home to dinner after sacrament meeting on fast day; he being the bishop of one of the two wards in St. George. Her Mother was recognized for her immaculate housekeeping, and she was also an excellent cook and seamstress.

Maude was taught early in life how to manage a house and cook tasty, thrifty meals, and to sew her own clothes. She was taught how to make bread, and she was taught to always get her work done early, at least by noon, and then she could play.

Maude's family was, what was then called, "house proud." They had nice furnishings in their home. They had worked hard to get a home and worked even harder to keep it nice. Every year they had a new rag carpet on their floor. Maude well remembered having to cut and sew a ball of carpet rags before she could play even when she was a tiny little girl. Their home was one of the first homes in town to be wired for electricity, and one of the first to have running water and a bathroom. However, Maude still had the job of scrubbing the old out-house every week until she was married. Her parents were still young, she being the third child in a family of five.

Maude herself was a quiet and reserved person. She did have lots of friends, but she always kept her distance. She didn't gossip and she never started a quarrel, but if she was pushed too far she also had a very sharp tongue: and she was usually able to get in the last word. Sometimes she could be quite cutting as she made some truthful observations, for we all know it is usually the truth that hurts. She was generous and giving, even though she saw to it that she gave in person and we usually knew it when she did a good deed.

Maude was never one to push herself on others, she never made the first move and always waited to be invited first. She had high ideals and standards. She didn't want her children to be "Tuts" (Tut being a family word meaning fast, crude, a filthy housekeeper, a sloppy dresser, a smoker and drinker, lazy, unambitious, or one or all of the above).

Maude wanted her children to be considered "swell" (another family word). A "swell" person in her eyes was an all-around cultured person, one who was industrious, dressed "classy," was social and Church oriented, a good housekeeper, and was ambitious. Money wasn't the most important consideration for a swell person, but again, swells usually had it. Maude was really a snob -- a generous, gullible, innocent, lovable snob, but a snob nevertheless. She wanted to associate with people that had the same ideals and high standards as she did. She wanted her children to look nice, go nice places, and do good things. She sewed and scraped and saved the pennies that she got from selling butter and eggs to accomplish the task.

My mother sewed us beautiful clothes. Frances and I could hardly wait for the new Sears & Roebuck or the Montgomery Ward catalogues to come out. Our main entertainment was to play "pick," turning to the fabric section and taking turns choosing the different materials we wanted mama to send for. We usually chose voile or crepe de chene. The colors that the material came in were so exotic, such as maise, coral, nile, or lavender and orchid. Mama was big on ecru lace and hem-stitched ruffles. She always made us new Fourth of July dresses and a new nightgown to sleep out in on the night of the third, when kids just had to sleep out on some lawn. Mama knew that living on the farm deprived us of playing with other kids very often, and so she tried to make up for it when she could.

I guess the worst flaw in Maude's personality was in making comparisons and putting labels on people. If we didn't clean our rooms we were called Blanch, or Mary Jo, girls who had lived on the farm who were really pigs. If we stayed out late after a dance we were called old Nell a lady considered really fast. If we wouldn't wear a hat and stayed out in the sun, she would ask us if we wanted to look like Kathleen, a neighbor who had dark, thick skin. However, if we did well in school we were just like her Grandfather Miles who had his own school at age fifteen, or our cousin Mariam who could do no wrong and put herself through college. If Dad ever took a little nip, he was just like old Gus Fullerton or her alcoholic cousin, Wallace.

Mother wasn't very tolerant. She judged everyone by herself. She always thought that if she could do something, anyone could. If Maude nagged, it was usually because she was pushed.

George and Maude might have had some different ideas about correcting their children, but they always backed each other up.

George was not the most handsome man in the world, but he had charisma and pizzazz. He had deep set, dark green eyes, black curly hair, and a lopsided grin that really turned the girls on. George had the gift of mimicry and could imitate just about anyone, and he could tell a story just as well.

George's Grandfather had immigrated to Canada from Germany, where he became very prosperous in the leather trade and also a very prominent farmer and freighter. After his Grandfather's death the family became converted to the Mormon Church and migrated to Utah. There they became closely associated with Brigham Young, George's uncle being one of Brigham's body guards. The family lived in Salt Lake only a short time until they, too, were called to St. George, arriving only six years after St. George was settled.

George's Father was something of an iron hand in a velvet glove. There was never a kinder, sweeter man on earth and he never raised his voice, but he demanded strict obedience and only had to lower his voice to be obeyed. His word was law and the law around the Seegmiller domain was WORK.

George's parents were comparatively old when George was born, he being number twelve in a family of thirteen. His parent's social life was more church and family oriented. Although George was the youngest boy in the family, he too was taught to work early in life. The family lived on a farm, and building a farm from scratch meant that they worked not only from sun to sun, but from dark to dark. This didn't matter to George, for he loved the work and knew from day one what he was going to do with his life. Of course, it wasn't all total work -- he had a horse to ride, a canal to swim in, trees to climb, places to hike and lots of things boys love to do.

Since the family lived on the farm, it was necessary for the children to go to town to attend school in the winter. George's Father owned a little house in town, and so his older sisters and brothers became his surrogate parents during the winter months. Having several parents can be rather hard on a little boy, especially if the parents are older siblings. George always insisted that the reason the lobes of his ears were so long was because his older brothers and sisters pulled them so much when he was little.

George had many friends, both boys and girls. He could carry on a conversation with anyone, no one was a stranger to him. He was a good dancer and he caused many girls' hearts to flutter as he waltzed them around the dance floor.

George's best characteristics were his compassion and feelings for what others called the "under dog." He never looked down on anyone because of their looks, physical condition, or lack of money. He was a real good judge of men and horse flesh. If anyone was willing to try, he was willing to give them a chance.

Honesty was a thing with George. As children we were never allowed to find anything. If we did and brought it home, he always made us take it back where we found it.

George was also very meticulous. He believed in sticking with a job until it was done well, and that usually required a plan, and he worked the plan. His gates were perfectly balanced, even a child could open them. He certainly did not believe in a "half assed" bailing wire fix.

George was a generous person, and he always paid his own way -- and he was usually the first man in the crowd to reach for the check when he went out with friends. Unlike Maude, who wanted to collect her brownie points on earth, George usually wanted to collect his brownie points in heaven, for he never wanted anyone to know about it if ever he did a good deed. Many a widow or jobless person found groceries on their front door step, or a load of hay in their barn, and never knew where it came from.

George believed in education and offered his children an opportunity to go to school as long as they wished.

Of course, there were also lots of minus qualities in George's personality. A quick temper was one at the head of the list. He certainly had a large vocabulary of cuss words, especially when he was trying to drive a cow through a gate that she didn't want to go through, or a span of mules that didn't want to go where he wanted them to. His temper was explosive, but he was not violent. He never struck one of us children even if we did need it sometimes, but he only had to clear his throat and we knew he meant business.

George WAS always a believer, but he just never could find time for church, much to Maudies' disappointment. It seemed that the ox always got in the mire every time church time arrived, or else he had to take the water, which had to admit Maude was a good excuse. Then, whenever he and Maudie went to a party or dance he felt that he needed a little tonic to make him feel secure. Maudie was always disgusted with this behavior, for it always made him act so silly. This condition created a good share of their arguments even though it only happened occasionally.

Although George didn't believe in keeping up with the Jones's, and thought that anything would do as far as he was concerned, he knew Maudie loved a lovely house and beautiful things and he tried his best to get them for her.

George always had compassion for the down and outers, but Maudie didn't have much patience with them. She always felt that if they worked as hard as she did they wouldn't be down and outers. She well remembered and oft repeated the story of one of our neighbors who was the father of a large family and who was always without a job. One day this man came to George for a job. George didn't have one at the time, but he intended to cut hay the next week and, feeling sorry for the man, promised to call him. When he called and told him that he could start Monday, the man sadly answered that he couldn't work on Monday or Tuesday. "Well, how about Wednesday?" The man again sadly shook his head and said, "Oh, that's the day I promised Tilly I'd help her wash."

Their life together was filled with hard work, children, sorrow, deprivation, cooperation, conflict, dedication, and love, but most of all commitment. Though there were sometimes bad arguments, divorce was the last thing they would have ever thought of, and we knew it.

George was super generous and always invited people to eat or stay at our house, but it was always Maude who was stuck with the work! However, she always came through very graciously.

As George got older he repented of many of what Maude considered his bad habits. He curbed his temper and gave up all thoughts of the little nips he used to take and even gave up his coffee. Then he took Maudie to the temple, fulfilling her life-long wish.

Harmony and love filled their last years together. I would say that they really endured to the end. George died at age eighty-seven, and Maudie just one month from being ninety.

George and Maude's story begins one cloudy February day just shortly after their marriage. They had decided to live on the Seegmiller farm., George's Father had been called to do ordinance work for the L.D.S. Temple and was giving George the opportunity to manage the farm. They decided that this would be a great opportunity. George would know if he would be able to do the work. His Father was old and he knew it wouldn't be long before he could lease it or maybe even someday buy the farm. His dream was to make this place the best farm in Washington County, if not the State of Utah.

"It looks as if that's about the last of them," George said as he placed a large cardboard box in the back of the wagon, "and the water barrels are full, too. We'll have to get a move on if we get there before dark, and besides, that sky's getting awfully black. We'll probably get sprinkled on before we make it."

Maudie hesitated a little and ran back into the house once more. This house had been her home for twenty-two years and it was a house they were both rather "house proud" of. Grandma's brother, was house painter, so rather than wash woodwork each Spring, they would put a fresh coat of paint on the walls. They always had carpets on the floor. Throughout Maudie's childhood she had always had to cut and sew a ball of carpet rags before she could play so that there was always a clean rug down. A piano graced their parlor, as well as a velvet setee and and there were lace curtains at the windows. Theirs was one of the first homes to be wired for electricity and to install running water, and on top of that they had a bath tub. Grandma was known throughout the town for her good house keeping, and although they were far from the most affluent people in town, they always lived comfortably and well. Now Maudie was married and was going to live on a farm. True, the farm was only five miles from town, but it could have been a hundred according to the lifestyle. Water had to be hauled in barrels from town. Lights came from kerosene lamps or candles. Washing was done on the scrub board. She sighed as she thought of having to bathe in the old number two. She didn't hesitate long, however, just long enough to grab the lap robe Grandmother was lending them to make the trip.

She felt just like a pioneer as George helped her upon the spring seat of the covered wagon, in which was packed her trousseau and wedding gifts, and the extra odds and ends of furniture and linens that her Mother wasn't using anymore.

All of the family was there to wish them good luck, and they pulled out of the yard to the tune of her Mother calling, "Now be careful, drive slow, remember you've got all that lovely China and it's easily broken, watch carefully for the ruts!"

The time was a late afternoon in February, 1914. The weather had turned cold and big black clouds threatened rain any minute. However, their spirits were high and they were young and in love, and they were starting out on a new adventure. As they bounced along, each of them was absorbed in their own musings, each had their own dreams. She for a new home, and he for a new farm.

Maudie glanced shyly across at George, "My," she thought, "he is so handsome with his curly black hair and saucy dark eyes." He was an independent cuss, too. If Maudie ever turned him down he would immediately ask Ora Orton, and Maudie would burn with jealousy every time he and Ora danced by her. Maudie's Father had been a little concerned when she and George started to keep steady company because he had heard through the grape vine that George was considered to be a sporty boy. Of course, the Seegmiller's were known as one of the most religious families in town, and Brother Seegmiller was a member of the High Council. The Seegmiller's had just built a big new home in town so Brother Seegmiller could spend his time in the temple. Maudie's Father hoped that now George and Maude were married George would settle down.

All Maudie had ever wanted in life was a home of her own and a family. Now that she was on her way to a new home, she wasn't just sure what it would be. "Anyway," she thought to herself, "we'll build a new one someday, maybe even one in town." She giggled to herself as they jogged along, "This is just like in my Grandmother's time, riding in a covered wagon and here it is 1914, and some people even have horseless carriages."

George, too, was deep in thought and he slid a sideways glance at Maudie. Boy, she was so pretty and tiny, she was less than five feet tall. George wasn't extra large, but she really made him feel strong and protective. He had been in love with her ever since the eighth grade. He, never forget that last day of school at the picnic, when he had been showing off and had dumped her out of his buggy as they were crossing the Santa Clara creek. When he lifted her out of the water she looked so tiny and helpless that he knew then and there he wanted to take care of her the rest of his life. Oh, he never let on how he felt and he went to college at the State Agriculture School, knowing he would return and marry her.

Above anything else, he wanted to be a farmer and he wanted to learn to do it right. He knew what he wanted to do, and now Pa had given him a chance to run the farm. His Dad had been called to the temple and needed someone to take on the responsibilities. The other boys in the family had their own farms by now. Since George was the baby, he was at last given the chance to try his hand. George wanted to make big changes. He wanted to straighten and terrace the land and build straight ditches, and someday even have a cement head gate!

They joggled along, each dreaming of their own special dreams of the future.

A splash of rain roused them from their reverie. George snapped the reins and old Queen and Veda started up at a faster pace.

"Gee, Maudie, the house ain't much but Pa said old Thacker could fix it up some if we will board him. Pa will buy the supplies. Old Thacker is a scary looking old cuss, but Pa says he is a real good carpenter and I think he is really quite harmless."

Clomp, clomp went the horses' hooves as they went over the river bridge.

"This reminds me of the three Billy Goats Gruff," Maudie laughed. "I wonder where the trolls live."

She snuggled closer to George as they reached the dugway. She always hated that part of the road because the ruts were so deep and there was scarcely room to pass another wagon. Thank goodness they were on the mountain side of the road because George was overly generous when he pulled over when he was on the river side, and she was sure they would go over the edge.

The horses increased their pace as they pulled up the dugway hill. They were close to home now and eager to be back in the corral. George chuckled to himself as the horses broke into a trot, and he wondered if Maude's Mother would think him really reckless.

"Well, we're almost there," George said as they turned down Schmutz's lane. Schmutz's were their nearest neighbors and Maudie had heard that Martha and Wilford were going to move down soon. It would surely be nice to have a neighbor, especially one as pretty as Martha. She smiled to herself as she thought of old Brother Schmutz. He had told George's Dad that he surely felt sorry for poor George, for how could a girl as pretty as Maude Miles make a good farm wife. She was strictly a town girl.

They pulled under the willow shed just in time and the rain began to fall in earnest. George lifted her down from the wagon and ceremoniously carried her across the threshold of her new home.

A sudden chill struck her as she smelled the odor of decaying straw.

"Here, I'll light the lamp and make a fire, and maybe while I'm unharnessing the horses and feeding the stock you can scare us up some supper. It's almost too late to do anything tonight."

When Maude's eyes became accustomed to the room darkness, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She hadn't expected much, but this was like seeing herself in some horrible nightmare.

"I'm sorry I didn't get the place cleaned up, but I had a chance to take the water on the holey land and you know how that goes."

When George said "holy land" he didn't mean sanctified, he meant holey in that the land was full of sink holes and getting the water over it was almost impossible.

"The men have camped here all Winter and they have really made a mess," he apologized. "I'll take tomorrow off and help clean it up, but I'd better go now and take care of the horses." He tried to sound cheerful, "I'll be back in a minute."

He made his escape so that he wouldn't have to see the look of utter despair on Maude's face. He knew that she was afraid of mice and that she would probably begin to cry the minute he left. He wanted her to have her cry in private. Things looked pretty bad tonight, but everything would work out, she'd see. At least they were making a start and he felt he had better take advantage of the opportunity he had while he had the chance.

He dragged his footsteps as he went about his work, taking a longer time than was necessary, and dreading his return to the house -- but he hadn't reckoned with his tiny, dainty wife!

Left alone, Maude felt frustrated, appalled and trapped. She didn't know where to turn, what to do, or even where to start. The place was cold, damp and filthy. Old gunny sacks were scattered all over the floor of the one good room. In the corners were piled old bailing wires, bolts of binding twine, ancient newspapers, and the entire Winter's accumulation of trash. In another corner were some sacks of grain. The smoke blackened walls were decorated with a few out dated calendars and many nails that served as hooks for the assortment of junk, broken harnesses that were to be fixed sometime, bridles, old coats, lasso ropes, an old hat or two, curry combs, a meat saw, and any other thing that could be suspended from a nail. There were some shelves that acted as a cupboard. It was filled with dirty fruit jars, some half filled with moldy fruit, cans of kerosene, a hammer, rusty nails and bolts, old books and papers, and mouse tracks everywhere. Against the wail on the south side of the room were two saggy springed beds covered with overall camp quilts and tarps. In the center of the room was a small table on which burned the one kerosene lamp with its smoke blackened chimney. The table was also covered with dirt and litter, burnt matches, pencil stubs, dirty dishes and more mouse tracks! The roof leaked just enough to discolor the wall paper and allow the moisture to seep into the straw under the old rag carpet. The moldy carpet odor, along with the dust from the sacks of grain and the mice smell, almost made her gag. Then she went to work -- she would show them all just what kind of a farm wife she would really make.

An hour dragged by and George decided that she should have had her cry out by this time, so he would have to get back to the house and face the music. ..

He blinked as he stepped through the door. Some marvelous miracle had taken place. Maudie had pushed all the junk to one side and covered it with a tarp. She had cleaned the smoke from the chimney and moved the junk from the table. The cheery fire had made the room cozy. Small curls of smoke drifted from the little Buddha incense burner that masked the odor of the moldy straw. The table was covered with her finest linen cloth and two places were set with her beautiful hand painted China that Aunt Minnie had given her for her wedding. She had dug in the wagon box until she had found her real silver and monogrammed linen napkins. There was the crystal candlesticks of which she was so proud, and long white candles. Her tall crystal goblets were filled with grape juice, the last bottle her Mother had had. Her Mother had sent a delicious lunch, just so they wouldn't have to cook that first night. There was fried chicken and baked beans. Mustard pickles filled the cut crystal dish that was given to her by her sister.

Maudie was really proud of this dish and for the two pieces of crystal given to her by her sister for they cost her forty dollars. Her Mother had even sent a fresh mince pie with just a slice or two of that good nippy cheese. The room was straightened. The soft light of the candles seemed to melt all the debris into the walls. It was, indeed, a romantic picture, a warm cozy fire on the inside and the patter of rain on the window outside with a candle light supper for two.

George's heart swelled with love and gratitude. Maudie felt rather smug, however, and the wind was taken out of her sails when George said, "Gee, Maudie, this looks great, but I guess you had better put on another plate because it looks like Old Thacker hasn't eaten either."

Thus began a twenty year career for my Mother of cooking for Dad's Hired Hands.

George had always wanted to be a farmer, and the year he spent at the State Agriculture College only increased his desire to do so. When his Father offered to let him run his farm for a couple of years to see if he could make it go, he jumped at the chance.

The textbooks he studied in college dwelled on rotation of crops, mulching the soil, fertilizing and irrigation. Naturally, it was understood that there would be plenty of water and that there would be things like head gates, and the water would be clear, etc. It all seemed so scientific and George thought he could certainly comply with what he had learned

When he first took over the management of the farm he hadn't reckoned with uneven, rocky and hilly land -- land where you started the water one way and had it going the opposite direction before you could walk to the head of the row. He hadn't reckoned with flood waters that sometimes coated the new plants with a thick, slimy mud that half killed the entire crop. Sometimes the flood water was so thick that it had to be taken out of the canal just when the crops needed it the most.

He already knew there were no permanent head gates to regulate the flow of water or to dam the stream, but he hadn't realized that he could shovel dirt and sand all night and have it melt away like sugar. He also hadn't realized that he could finally build a dam that he thought would hold, just to have it all slip away through a gopher hole.

The Washington fields were set out in 120 acre blocks with a public road running on all sides. Originally, his Father had owned the entire block, but had had to sacrifice the best twenty acres in order to buy water stock with which to water the rest of the land. There was a one fourth acre strip that was level and right goad land, even though it had a canal that ran diagonally through the northern end and ended with a huge black willow tree that rendered useless about an acre. There was a decided drop from there to the next five acres which necessitated another head ditch. The house and corrals were placed on the ground that was too high to get the water on, and the adjoining ten acres was a hilly knoll. The story was that an Indian village was once situated on this knoll. This was evidenced by the bits of broken pottery and arrowheads strewn all over the hill. In the center of one plot of land was a series of sink holes and huge rocks. This land was called the holy land, and not because it was sacred. Sometimes while watering, a portion of the ground would sink as much as five feet. This would then have to be filled in with good soil from somewhere else. Then, the huge rocks would have to be dug up and hauled away, and the holes left by the rocks would also have to be filled in. All in all, there were about seventy-five acres of land that eventually would make a good farm. There was also a pasture across the street that was a partial swamp and another one that was covered with brush. Most of the acreage on the north was owned by other farmers, from small five acre brush pastures to sizable farms.

Although George had spent his entire youth working on this farm, he had never been responsible for what had to be done. Now he knew why his Dad spent so much time trapping the gophers and why the ditch banks had to be weeded so often and why there was always a few sheep grazing the fence lines (sheep would eat any and all weeds) and why the barb wire fences had to be repaired and the ditches cleaned.

George soon found that the land spoken of in the text books and the land that he farmed were not one and the same. There was always too much to do. He had meant to fix up the house before he brought his wife home, but the ditches had to be cleaned before he could get the water in, the fences mended, and then there was the livestock to tend and cows to milk, and on a farm, farm work has a priority. Financially, it was almost impossible to go out and hire anyone, but he could certainly do with help of any kind.

TOC

Old Thacker was George's first hired man and he came almost as a wedding present. One night, shortly before his marriage a very strange looking old man appeared at the door. He was dressed rather shabby. It was evening when he arrived and he appeared to be awfully tired and hungry. A full gray beard hung to his middle, so you couldn't really tell what he looked like, but no one was ever turned away from the Seegmiller's door hungry, so George's Father took him in. He said his name was Thacker and he begged to stay, saying he would be glad to work for his room and board if he could just stay there for a while. He looked rather frail so George was sorta skeptical of just what help he could render. It turned out that he was much stronger than he looked, and when George found that he had been a carpenter all his life, they decided to let him stay.

About two o'clock one morning, shortly after George hired Thacker, George awoke to the sound of mumbling. Although he appeared to be asleep, Old Thacker, in his long handled drawers, was pacing the floor and mumbling to himself. Thacker's voice became louder until George could hear him say, "I killed him, I know damned well I killed him. That last blow was just too hard." And looking at George with sleep glazed eyes he repeated, "I know I've killed him."

"What are you talking about," George said in a voice that sounded much braver than he felt. "Come on, back to bed."

Old Thacker just looked through George and continued to pace the floor, and finally he laid back down on the bed, still mumbling in his sleep.

There was no more sleep that night for George. He never did find out whether he was harboring a criminal or if Thacker was just having a nightmare.

Thacker stayed on the farm for over a year, and during that time made many miraculous improvements both on the house and on the barns and out buildings. He was a grumpy old man and Maude was always afraid of him and insisted that he was crazy. She kept out of his way as much as possible, and all the many instructions about what she wanted built were relayed through George.

Maude was at the wash board scrubbing her weekly dainties one fine Monday morning when Old Thacker appeared dragging a number of filthy long handled drawers. These he unceremoniously dumped into the tub and commanded, "Wash 'em." She was too frightened and astonished to refuse, so she meekly scrubbed them without protest.

At last the carpentry work on the house was finished and Thacker spent his time fixing up the barns and corrals. He had made some marvelous improvements, however. He had built on a bedroom, a large screen porch with huge awnings that lifted up or down depending on the weather. This was used as a dining room and a sometime bedroom. He also built on a front porch where they could sit in the evenings, providing the mosquitoes were not too persistent.

George's baby sister, Dolly, who was also Maude's best friend, had just married the new County Agriculture Agent and they had moved to the State Agriculture College Experiment Farm close by. One evening some of the boys from the station, along with Dolly and her husband, Ray, came over to the farm for dinner and to inspect the vast new improvements that Thacker had made. During their conversations George related the scare Old Thacker had given him when he first arrived. This really tickled the boys from the station and they decided to play a joke on him. They went down to the Dode house and knocked on Thacker's door. When he answered they told him they were officers of the law and were investigating a murder and that they would be back the next morning to talk to him. When George got up the next morning he found that there was neither hide nor hair of Old Thacker and he was never heard from again.

TOC

The painting of the house was done mostly by Maude's Uncle Dave Moss. He was her mother's only brother and Maude had always been a favorite niece and he was anxious to see "the kids get a good start." If they ran out of one color of paint "Uncle Dave" contributed a little dab he had left over from another job. Everything got a fresh coat of paint. Some of the chairs might have been painted white, some blue, or some even brown, but still they were all freshly painted.

All the wood work had been painted to match the paper he put on the walls. The bedroom had baby blue paint to complement the forget-me-not wall paper on the walls. Maude's Mother had contributed a second-hand in-grain carpet that looked just like new. She hung dotted Swiss curtains at the windows. The only furniture was a beautiful new brass bed and a large chest of drawers that Maudie painted white, and a little nursing rocker that was given her by her Father. Maudie had had a beautiful trousseau. The lovely hand embroidered dresser scarf covered the chest and on it was placed the traditional ivory brush, comb, and mirror set that every young man gave his betrothed the Christmas before they were married. There was also a lovely gold jewel box lined with pink real China silk. Her new brass bed was simply smothered with fancy pillows. From one corner post of the bed dangled a beautiful bediour cap literally dripping with lace and ribbons. This was so popular in all the new homes pictured in the latest women's magazines. On the other head post hung a yellow sachet bag trimmed with rosettes and ribbon.

When Maude gazed at the freshly painted cupboard in the big rock front room filled with all her beautiful wedding China, she couldn't help remembering how it looked the first night she saw it. This room, had lovely floral wall paper and the wood work was painted in an a rich wood grain that Uncle Dave was so expert at. Hundreds of gallons of cream had to be churned into butter and sold to the store in exchange for the purchase price of the velvet carpet and matching couch cover she had set her heart on. In fact, her butter and eggs seemed to be the main medium of exchange for Maude. All her furnishings were bought from Whitehead's store in exchange for her butter and eggs. Maude's Father had contributed a book case and two rockers that he had traded a harness to Charley Whipple for, Charlie being the local cabinet maker.

A lovely pump organ stood on one side of the room and the new sewing machine her Father had given her for her wedding was placed near the window where the light was good. She hung lace curtains, leftovers from her Mother, at the window, and in the deep window sill she placed the deep green jardiniere she prized so much and which was also a wedding present. The little table was covered with a Spanish shawl and there were several velvet and embroidered sofa pillows on the couch and chairs. A lovely carved amoutr filled the corner next to the door that led to the bedroom. Yes, she was pleased with this room.

The screened in porch that Old Thacker had built was much harder to decorate. The wood work and the awnings were painted a light rosy brown and new brown and tan linoleum covered the floor. There was a big schoolmaster desk that George's brother had made and it had been left in the house. A sanitary cot with its let down side, which would provide an extra bed, was covered with one of the fancy quilts from Maude's trousseaux. She made crisp cretin curtains for the two glass windows in the room. The dining room table and the chairs her Uncle Dave had painted brown made a very presentable room out of it.

Wen the house: was completly decorated, Maude decided to have a Thanksgiving dinner to show it off. The big table was set in the new dining room. Crisp curtains fluttered at the windows, flowers were arranged and everything was bright and freshly painted, even the floors were covered with a new linoleum.

"Maudie, Maudie, you are a wonder," George's Father exclaimed. "How did you do it all? Why, oh why didn't we have it looking like this when we lived here? You know my home in Canada was bright and cheerful like this. Yes, we did have a beautiful home in Canada, but the church was worth leaving it all for, and I am not sorry. But I am grateful to you for how this place looks now and this makes it a really great Thanksgiving."

Both Maude and George's families had been invited to the Thanksgiving feast, and it was indeed a feast. George had killed the big gobbler that they had been feedeng all summer and Maudie had stuffed it with a savory dressing. There was potatoes and vegetables and pickles and jams and jellies. There were pies and puddings and hot rolls all baked in the old wood stove. Dinner was preceded by a lengthy prayer led by George's Father. The wedding silver and hand painted China graced the table and Maudie basked in the compliments that ensued.

The main course was over and it was just time for dessert. While she was putting the cream on the pie, the other ladies helped clear the table. "Pa," George said, "wouldn't you like another cup of coffee?"

Suddenly a buggy thundered around the house. "Help, help, my son's been shot and he's bleeding to death."

Charley Bastion burst into the house, "Quick, call a doctor."

Immediately, all hands turned to help bring the boy into the house. Clean sheets were torn to make bandages and stop the bleeding. The new couch cover was soaked with blood and it had also dripped all over the new carpet.

George quickly went to the phone -- ring, ring, ring. "Hello, central, is this you Jennie? This is George Seeg. I'm at the farm. Charley Bastian's son has been shot and he has brought him here and we need a doctor quick. No, I don't know quite where, but he's bleeding bad, I think it's in the thigh or stomach. He was hunting quail and the gun went off as he was climbing a fence. Now, if you can't find Dr. McGregor, Dr. Woodbury will do. But send someone as soon as you can. Thanks, Jennie, you might call his Mother when you get time and tell her what happened, then call me back."

Many hands soon had the boy fairly comfortable in spite of the pain.

"I believe that's the phone. Listen, it sounds like four shorts." (This was a 12 party line and four shorts was the Seegmiller line.) "It must be Jennie calling back." ,;

"Hello, yes this is George. You say you weren't able to get Dr. McGregor, but Dr. Woodbury is on his way and should be here in less than an hour? Thanks a lot Jennie, you've sure been a big help. He seems to be resting pretty good right now. I believe we've got the bleeding stopped."

Everyone was too upset to even try the pie, even though Maudie had made it out of those good little gem squash. By the time the doctor arrived everyone had become a little calmer and some of the excitement had died down and the kitchen had been cleaned up a little. The lovely festive atmosphere was gone, and in its place was a deep thankfulness that this beautiful young man's life had been spared, and knowing that it could have been otherwise had it not been for the part they had played during the accident.

TOC

George inherited his next hired man from his brother, Dee. He came over from his brother's neighboring farm to help with the haying and decided to stay when he found that there was a lady cook. He had been batching it at Dee's and he said that he didn't care for his own cooking, even though he claimed to have been the owner of a big restaurant in New York City. Most of the transient hired men never divulged too much of their private life and they were only known by their first names or even nicknames.

This new hired man was known as Scotty. He was, indeed, a very handsome fellow, over six feet tall with a beautiful body. His hair was red and he had a big red handlebar mustache, which he claimed he had never shaved and of which he was very proud. His accent probably accounted for his nickname. He was, indeed, a ladies man and dressed very meticulously. Since he claimed to be the owner of a big restaurant in New York City, George wondered what a big restaurant owner from New York City was doing out West working on a farm for peanuts, but he assumed that was Scotty's business, and as long as he did his work it was of no concern to him.

Scotty was a real hard worker and George always said that it didn't take Scotty all day to herd a few cows. Once George left him to clean a stretch of canal, only to come back a short time later to find that it was finished and finished well.

"Hell sakes, Scotty, you didn't need to get it finished all alone, and in one afternoor."

To which Scotty replied, "Don't leave me alone then, just don't leave me alone, cause when I'm alone there is nothing else to do but work."

George thought he had a real find in Scotty and was always telling everyone how great he was. However, Maudie didn't feel quite the same way. She just didn't like the way those big green eyes followed her around, nor the many opportunities he tried to find to get her alone.

As usual, the dark clouds began to mount as the hay cutting started. The chances of a rain storm increased each day. The day before all the hay was hauled, the sky became blacker and the lightning and thunder increased as the day progressed.

"Oh, it's so hot, I wish you'd hurry and get that hay off. We've never been able to enjoy a good rain. Every time a cloud appears in the sky you have to spoil it all by cutting the hay, then I have to pray that it won't rain and get the hay all wet!" Maudie complained.

"Well, I believe we'll be finished by noon -- and then let her go loose. Oh, I have to take a load of hay to town after dinner, but I think I'll be back before the storm breaks. You'll be all right, I'll be back before sundown."

Now it happened that Maude was petrified of thunder storms. She had been told that the farm was in a lightning belt and that it struck here often and that they didn't have a lightning rod on the house. She knew that the house across the street had been struck by lightning and had burned down. She was always sure that lightning would strike as soon as George left.

Sure enough, George hadn't been gone an hour before the black clouds completely obliterated the sun. Jagged lightning streaked across the heavens, followed by deafening crashes of thunder. When the thunder cracked, all the doors and windows shook. A strong wind swept around the corner of the house and threatened to tear the doors from the hinges. Maudie hurried and hooked the screens and shut the doors, in spite of the heat. These thunder storms really scared her to death. She didn't even have time to count to one between the time the lightning flashed and the thunder exploded -- that meant the lightning was pretty close. No sooner would one deafening clap of thunder explode than the sky lit up again to be followed almost immediately by another crash. She had always been told that if she were in the doorway or in the corner, she wasn't as likely to be hit. So, she spent most of the afternoon huddled in the corner of the big rock room, praying that George would be all right and that he would please hurry.

There were still a few loads of hay to be gathered after George left, and so all the men were still in the field, so Maude was all alone.

A loud pounding on the door drew her attention to the kitchen, so she opened the wooden door. Thank goodness she had locked the screen. There stood Scotty pounding on the door begging to be let in.

"Maudie, Maudie, open the door, quick lass, let me in before George gets back. I want to make love to you and we haven't much time. Do you know how long I've waited to get you alone? Now we can be alone at last. I just can't keep my eyes off you and you are on my mind all the time. Open the door, quick, I know you must feel the urge too."

Poor Maudie, so naive and innocent, she was thoroughly stunned by this outburst -- if she was frightened by the storm, she was now more frightened by Scotty. She didn't have the slightest idea what to do. She couldn't scream because the rest of the men were still out in the field, and besides, the storm was making too much noise for anyone to hear.

"Maudie, how can a beautiful girl like you stand to live like this? Let me take you away and I'll show you the bright lights. George doesn't appreciate you like I would. You are so tiny and so dainty, how can George expect you to work so hard? And he leaves you alone too much. How can he spend all day in the field with a wife like you here in the house? If you'd only come with me I'd never leave you alone. Quick, lass, open the door. I love you and I want you now."

Silently, she prayed for help. She was petrified and knew he could break down the door. Dramatically, she demanded that he leave if he knew what was good for him, but he only raved on and pulled at the door.

Again, the thunder and lightning cracked, masking the sound of the rumbling of a wagon as it came over the hill.

Desperately, Maude looked around the house for some means of protection and Scotty continued his begging to be let in.

A lull in the thunder brought the welcoming rumble of the wagon to her ears as it rolled into sight.

Upon hearing the wagon, Scotty made a hasty exit cautioning Maudie not to mention anything of what had happened to George. Of course, she had no intention of telling him anything -- it was too embarrassing, and though George was a small man his temper was notoriously big.

Next morning at breakfast Maudie and Scotty were startled when George cheerfully said, "Well, Scotty, how did you get along in the thunder storm? I hope you finished soon enough to come in and take care of Maudie, 'cause she sure in hell is scared of a thunder storm." Without waiting for a reply, George went on eating his eggs and began to lay out the work to be done that morning.

Scotty looked a little sheepish and that evening he was conspicuously missing. Whether it was a guilty conscience or fear that Maudie would tell what had really happened, she never knew, but that was one hired man that she was certainly relieved to see gone.

TOC

When it came time for the Spring work to get started, George decided that it was not economical for him to try and do all the work by himself. There was just too much to do and one body just couldn't be in a dozen places at the same time. Without the necessary funds, his choice of help for a regular hired man was rather slim. The next best thing would be to find a younger man. Jobs were rather scarce in St. George and the available jobs were taken up by family men.

The Gates' were family friends and they had a young man in their family that was just about eighteen. Paul was a nice kid, he did not smoke and apparently he didn't chase the girls because he was willing to move to the farm and work for one dollar a day and board. Maude liked him really well. He was just old enough to be interesting to talk to, and young enough that he was eager to please, and he was especially eager to do Maudie's bidding.

Today was a special day, and the late February midday sun shone down warm. Paul held the stirrup in place for Maudie as she swung up on Rainbow's back. Rainbow was a beautiful little sorrel mare that had been Maudie's high school graduation gift from her folks, along with a saddle made especially for her by her dad. The little filly was high spirited and danced a little, and Maudie clutched the horn of the saddle to steady herself and keep from falling. Somehow she felt a little dizy. She hoped this party would not be spoiled by another headache, not today, for she had been planning for this party for weeks. The dizziness passed and she hastily gave a few more instructions.

"Do you think you boys can manage if I stay all night?"

"Oh, sure, sure, everything will be fine. Have a good time and don't even try to come back tonight. You know how Rainbow spooks sometimes, and it will be after dark before your party is over and we don't want your horse to dump you off the dugway in the dark! Now, don't worry, I'll look after George and I'll feed your biddies and take care of the separator for you. Now get going or you'll be late."

He gave the little mare a slap on the rump and she took off like a streak of lightning.

Maudie's excitement increased as she reached the dugway. At last, she was going to go to a party again. It was going to be the first time the old gang had had a get together since her marriage. The party was to be held at Hannah Pike's and was to be a Washington's Birthday party. Everyone was to wear a Colonial costume. Hannah was a real stylish lady, older than Maudie. Her husband owned the local drug store where Maudie had worked before her marriage. Mrs. Pike was the accepted social leader of the younger married set. She had always liked Maudie and Maudie felt quite flattered to be included in the festivities.

The girls had phoned from town to say that they had already persuaded Maudie's Mother to make her a costume, and knowing her Mother, she knew that she would probably have the nicest costume there. Her Mother had style and she was an excellent seamstress.

Even though it was early, she urged Rainbow on to a gallop, knowing there was still so much to be done before the party. She wanted to lie for hours in the luxury of a hot bath in a real tub. The old number two might do the job, but she couldn't say it was very comfortable or relaxing sitting on the rim and worrying for fear some hired man might need something in the kitchen and walk in on her.

The party was a huge success. Some of her out of town friends who had been gone for a long time were there, and it was exciting to catch up on the things they had been doing, local gossip, and just plain old girl talk. She had been surrounded by just men for such a long time she wondered if she could discuss anything besides water turns or cutting hay. She found she could still hold her own at cards, however. She not only had the highest score at cards, but won the prize for having the best costume. The best thing of all, however, was the dessert that was served, strawberry cream cake. She knew instantly just what she was going to do as soon as she got home.

She could hardly wait for morning so she could go home again and put her plan into action. She was going to try her hand at making a strawberry cream cake for George and Paul.

Her Mother wouldn't let her go without loading her down with a few dainties that "Maudie doesn't get way down there." Her saddle bags were bulging, and along with the other goodies was a bottle of fresh bottled strawberries so that she could make her cream cake surprise.

Bidding her family good-bye, and assuring them she would be back with George before the week was out for a load of water, she was off again, this time back to the farm.

The cake was beautiful, whipped cream all piled high and swirled around the sides, and with little nests of strawberries ail over the top. She felt really proud of her culinary endeavors as she carried the cake to the table.

"Boy, what have we got here?" "Isn't that a beaut? "We'll let you go to town every day if you'll bake us a cake like that."

Maudie beamed at the praises she received when she cut and served the cake. The cake looked so good. She was anxious to see if it tasted as good as it did the day before, so she cut herself a generous piece and hastily took a bite. Huh, rather good if I do say so myself. She took another generous bite and then another. About half way through her piece she stopped and swallowed hard, then two or three times in rapid succession. Then, clasping her apron over her mouth, she ran from the room. George and Paul looked at each other in amazement. By the time George got to where she was crouched down around the corner of the house, she had not only lost the cream cake, but all she had eaten for breakfast and was trying for the cake she had eaten at the party yesterday. There were tears streaming down her cheeks, and her nose was running, and her hair had all come loose and straggled around her face. Weak and sick, and with tears running down her face, she looked up at George and smiled.

"Don't look for anymore hired help right away, George, because if things go right, we will have some new help -- it looks like we are going to have a little hired hand of our own."

TOC

Spring comes early in the Washington fields. The ground hog has scarcely poked his snout of the ground before the sun pours down the rays that penetrate the frozen ground. The killing frosts are usually gone before the last of February, and soon after, the alfalfa begins to send forth shoots, and by the first of May it is ready to cut.

All the haying gear has to be ready to go by then. The mowers and rakes that have been setting all Winter must be greased, broken wagon tongues have to be replaced, and the hay knives have to be sharpened. All the little blades on the mower knives have to be sharpened on the stone grinder and put back on the knife. The tines on the hay rake have to be checked and replaced if broken. The axles on the wagons have to be greased. The tongues on the mowers and rakes also have to be checked to see if they are in good condition and replaced if not. Even the derrick has to be checked to see if the cables are frayed or broken and the hay fork secure.

George was rather proud of his hay derrick. This was a new invention, and the first and largest one in the country. George's brother had been out in Nevada and came home all enthused about this new idea. After hearing its description, George knew he could construct one himself. So, on his 16th birthday, he and his brother, Dan, took a team to the top of, Pine Valley Mountain and cut the tallest, straightest ridge poles they could find brought them back to the farm where they constructed the derrick. Then they ordered a Jackson hay fork (with cables they were able to swing by the fork from the wagon to the top of the hay stack).

The hay derrick usually has to be moved to another place so a new stack can be made, and this takes a strong team of horses to move it. All the teams are used during the haying season so all of the harnesses have to be oiled and repaired. It takes a lot of doing to get ready before the first of May. Slow indeed is the farmer who hasn't his equipment ready by the first. The first farmer to cut usually gets his pick of the available labor market. The hay crew usually consists of seven men, four out in the field loading the wagons, one to drive the wagon loaded with hay and to unload it, two to build the stack, and a boy to ride the derrick horse. The man that unloads the wagon takes the derrick fork, which is about five feet long and has five or six large curved tines, and pushes it into the hay on the wagon, then the derrick horse pulls this fork on a steel cable and guides by a rope, that the man unloading controls, up onto the stack. By a quick pull of the rope the hay is dumped so the men on the stack can arrange the hay. Then the derrick horse backs up and lets the big fork down again.

There are four men in the field loading the wagons so that there is always a new load ready to be unloaded as soon as the last one is emptied. Five of these men come from town, and since town is five miles away, they stay on the farm for a week, or until all the hay is put up. This means that the farmer's wife has to cook three meals a day for five extra men for at least a week.

There were some men in town who earned their living entirely by helping other farmers harvest their crops. The first farmer ready usually has his pick of the available men. George had his favorites, and he usually had a nickname for all of them. He thought Billy the Boob was the best stacker he could find, even though he was a young kid. If you could get a crew lined up they would usually come back for each additional cutting.

Having the hayers for the last cutting was quite exciting for Maudie in spite of the extra work. It had really been fun. The men praised her cooking, told her how beautiful she was, and how lucky George was to have such a good wife. She heard the latest gossip from town, and being the only woman around was exciting even if they were only hayers.

This cutting was different. She didn't feel quite up to the extra work. Maudie always had had so much energy and she hadn't realized being pregnant could make her so tired. It was such an e Fort to climb up in the wagon to draw a bucket of water. Sometimes, when the hose became worn and raveled, she wondered who had sucked on it last, and just to make sure it wasn't a tobacco chewer, she would take a knife and trim off the end of the hose.

The water was hauled from town in 50-gallon barrels and was usually lifted in the wagon where a short hose was stuck in a small opening. All water used had to be drawn from the barrels. It nauseated Maudie every time she had to suck on the hose to draw the water, and it took so many buckets of water to prepare each meal. The thought of who had sucked last made her gag.

George had generously offered to get a hired girl to come down from Washington to help during the haying and threshing season. She considered it seriously, and she really wanted and needed some help, but she knew that their budget could not be stretched to include a hired girl and the lacy bed jacket and night gown for her laying in. Having a fancy layette was costing a little more than she had planned. Men just didn't seem to understand those things. Her pride would not let her go to bed in just an old ordinary gown when all her friends had such beautiful ones. She didn't want anyone visiting her and going away and saying, "Poor Maudie, didn't she look tacky." Pride pinches, her Mother always said, and so she insisted she was fine and could handle the work herself. She did want that new wicker buggy and the lovely woolen shawl she had seen up to Whitehead's store -- and a million other things. She really begrudged the money that was spent on the week's extra groceries.

Now this cutting was over, finished as of noon today. The men would be leaving for town early having finished almost before she had finished cleaning up the kitchen mess. As she sat down on the couch in the front room, the whole week's tiredness suddenly engulfed her. That mountain of dishes had taken half the afternoon to wash. Yes, she had finished the whole week. It was nip and tuck there for a while, but she hadn't let George know how hard it had been to go on and still smile. She was certainly glad they were through though. She carefully turned the embroidered side of the sofa cushion before she lay back on the day bed. "I'm really give out. I don't know when I've felt all so punk. Thank goodness it's over. It's sure a good thing, too," she mused, "there's scarcely a scrap of food left, only a half loaf of bread, but along with the left-over rice pudding and milk and onions, it will do for George and Paul's supper." Without a worry in the world she drifted off in the arms of Morpheus.

"Maudie, what the hell ya coin'? Are you going to sleep all day? These men want to go to town and you haven't got supper ready yet."

"Supper?" Maudie sat up as shocked as if she had been slapped. "You're joshing, you don't expect me to cook supper for them after they're finished."

"I damn sure do, they never leave without eating first. Ma always fed them before they went to town."

"Well, this is one time they are not going to be fed," she retorted. "It's only four o'clock. I never heard of such a silly thing. Besides, there isn't a thing left to eat and I'm not about to heat that stove up again tonight."

"Of course there's something left to eat. What would Pa say if he knew we had sent them to town without their supper?"

"I don't care what he says, it's silly and unnecessary and I'm not cooking another meal again this afternoon, and that's that. If you think I'm heating up that stove again you're crazy. Besides, we're out of food."

"By damn, I'll do it myself then. I'm sure there's something." And slamming the door he stomped into the kitchen. Soon Maudie could hear the rattle as he made up a fire and the banging of the pots and pans as he made up a batch of baking powder biscuits. What the rest of the meal consisted of she never knew for she spent the rest of the evening in the front room crying.

George didn't come in to comfort her either. When he finished the chores he went right on to bed. Finally, Maudie lit the lamp and went into the kitchen to get a little something to settle her stomach and keep her from feeling faint. The table was covered with dirty dishes and the milk hadn't even been strained.

In blind madness she cleared away the mess, and she swore George had dirtied every dish in the house. It would have been so much easier to have fixed the supper herself, and she hadn't even been able to prove a point. She felt betrayed.

For the first time in her married life she realized just what it meant to be a farmer's wife. Farmer's wives simply could not win. Like it or not, a senseless and an old, out-dated farm tradition had been preserved.

Charley Empey was not a regular hired man, that is, he didn't live on the farm. He was a town man and what is known as a hayer. He only worked for George while the hay was down. He usually was the man who hauled the hay rather than cut it. He usually took his pay in the hay that filled his own barn. Charley was a little older than the other men, and he was usually recognized by his long white mustache and his white hair. His tallness was accentuated by the tall crowned straw cowboy hat and the faded bib overalls he wore. George thought he handled a team really we!J.

The last morning of the cutting, Isharley drove up to the corral to ask where he was to load. With him this morning was his chubby little daughter, Mildred. Mildred was a cute little girl with big brown eyes and Dutch cut hair. She was only about six years old.

"It's pretty hot for a little girl out in the field," George said." "Why don't you stay with Maude up to the house 'til your Dad gets loaded."

So, dutifully she trotted up to the house and knocked on the door. "Mrs. Seegmiller, Daddy said I was to stay with you until he gets loaded."

"Why, of course, dear. Come on in. It really is too hot for a little girl like you to be out in the sun."

Maude was just getting ready to go to town.

"Mildred, my Father is coming for me in his new white-topped buggy in a little while. Right now he is over to his farm watering. Pretty soon he is coming over to pick me up and I'll be gone all morning and won't be back until late this afternoon when he has to come back again to change the water. You can stay here in the house, though, until your Father is ready to go home."

Maude was eager to get to town. She had run out of crochet thread and the edge she was making on one of the little baby dresses was far from finished.

She pulled the drawer of the big white chest open to check the things she needed. She would have to get some more pale pink floss and a few more yards of insertion, as well as edging.

Lovingly, she fingered the growing pile of baby clothes that pretty near filled the drawer, although she still had several months to go. There were little flannel night dresses, tiny batiste dresses edged in fine crochet that had little embroidered rolled roses in each of the scallops around the bottoms. There was a little bonnet covered with rows and rows of lace. There was a pink blanket edged with satin ribbon and embroidered in the corners.

"Would you like to see my baby clothes, Mildred?" Maude asked.

"Oh, yes, could 1? They are so cute, they would just fit my doll. You don't have any babies, do you Mrs. Seegmiller?"

"Well, maybe the stork will bring me one soon," Maude replied. "Look, here is a little brush and comb, and here is a little pair of shoes. Aren't they tiny? Now let's see," she mused to herself. "I need another yard of batiste, three yards of lace insertion and another ball of 100 crochet thread. Oh, yes, I'll have to take these little petticoats with me in hopes that I'll have time to take them up to Orpha's to be hemstitched."

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard her name being called as her Father brought the buggy to a standstill.

"Can we hurry it up a little, Maude, I've an appointment to write some recommends at 11:30, and it will take us at least an hour to get to town."

Maude shut the drawer and gathered up her things. She was taking some butter and eggs so that she could take them up to Whitehead's store to exchange for the thread and batiste.

"Now, Mildred, you can just stay here in the house where it is nice and cool and play with your doll. Your Father won't be very long."

At six o'clock that afternoon the same buggy rolled back over the hill. Frank Miles helped his daughter down from the buggy seat and kissed her good-bye. "Take care of yourself and don't go lifting any of those heavy water buckets - make the men do it."

"Oh, Dad, I've had such a good day, thanks for taking me. I can't wait to finish that edge on a little dress I started."

Quickly, she ran to the bedroom to leave her supplies in the baby drawer. She pulled open the drawer and gasped in surprise. The drawer was empty. Quickly, she opened the other drawer, it too was empty. What could have happened? Who could have...? She felt sick all over. All her lovely things were gone.

Suddenly, it came to her -- the little Empey girl.

"Why, the little wench," she exploded. "She's taken my baby things for her doll. I just know that it was Mildred. I'm going to call her Dad right away."

She looked in the phone book, but couldn't find any Charley Empey listed.

"Wouldn't you know it," Maudie stormed, "George, who do you have to call when you need him for haying?"

"Oh, I just have to call one of his neighbors. They are usually quite obliging. The Cox's or the Rodgers live quite close, and they both have kids they can send."

"Never mind, I'll just ask Central." One, two, three rings. "Jennie, this is Maude Seegmiller. Who has a phone closest to Charley Empey? I've simply got to talk to him. Mrs. Cox, you say? That's what George thought. Would you ring her please? Thanks."

"Hello, Sister Cox, this is Maude Seegmiller calling. Oh, I'm feeling pretty good now. Well, not until November. Sister Cox, it's most important that I get in touch with Charley Empey. Would it be too much trouble for you to send one of your kids and call him to the phone? I'd really appreciate it. I really do hate to bother you. Oh, thank you so much. If you'll just have him call me back. My number is 4M. Thanks again, and good-bye."

Fifteen minutes later. "There's the phone ringing, it must be Charley. Yes, four shorts, yes, it's ours."

Hello, yes, Charley. I have a problem. Your little girl stayed in my house while I was gone to town, and when I got back I found all my baby clothes were missing. I don't know where they could have gone to unless your little girl took them for her doll. Did you see them? Did she have them on her doll?"

"Why' yes, she did have her doll dressed in a long dress and wrapped in a pink blanket. I thought it was kinda funny, but she said that you had given them to her for her doll. That's all I saw, though. I'll go right home and check to see if she can tell me anything about the rest of them. I'll call you right back. I'll really have to get after her if she's took them."

"Now, Maude, don't cry," George comforted her, "We know where part of them are and she'll probably know where the rest are. She's just a little kid and doesn't know any better."

One hour later. One, two, three, four shorts.

"That's ours. Oh, I hope it's Charley. Hello. Yes, this is Maude. You found them! Thank goodness! Where were they? Oh, you don't say. Why that little dickens. I guess there's no real harm done as long as I get them back. Oh, that won't be necessary, just take them down to the harness shop and Father will see that I get them. That's all right. Good-bye."

"George, he found them. And do you know what that little wallop did? She tucked all my lovely things down in her stinky old bloomers and she's so chubby that her poor old Dad didn't even know the difference."

Helen, Maude's 12 year old sister, buried her head under the pillow on the sofa as she heard a scream come over the transom from the bedroom. She couldn't understand what was happening. Everyone was running around and Helen was told to stay out of the way. Sister Haradance was in the kitchen boiling water and Dr. Woodbury was in the bedroom with Maudie. All kinds of queer noises came over the transom. She could hear Maude moan and cry. What on earth were they doing to her sister? Her Mother was down in the bottom of the lot wringing her hands and pacing back and forth, and she couldn't imagine why. She heard Father tell Ed that he must go for George at once.

"We can't get George on the phone," he said. "I guess he isn't in the house. He might be watering out on the County road or plowing down by the pig pasture. You'll just have to look for him until you find him. I've got to get back in to Maude. I'm going to give her a blessing. I only came out for the consecrated oil."

Helen just couldn't imagine anything important enough to bring George to town in the middle of the day.

"I wonder what they're doing to Maude to make her cry so much." The moans and groans had been heard all morning. No one would tell her anything, they just kept cautioning her to stay out of the way.

Then there was a loud scream and then another, then she heard a slapping sound followed by a strange noise almost like the crying of a baby. Suddenly, the bedroom door flew open and Sister Haradance switched through the kitchen holding something red and squawking in a towel in her hands. She couldn't see much, only something black sticking through one end. There was a silence in the bedroom, but Sister Haradance had increased her activity. Helen could hear the splashing of water and the rattling of pans.

A few minutes later Sister Haradance stood in the doorway holding a bundle in her arms.

"Helen, dear, would you like to see your new little niece?"

Coal black hair covered the entire head of the tiny baby girl. She opened her eyes and twisted her mouth showing the deep dimples in her tiny cheeks.

"There's something wrong with her. I've never seen a baby like that. It even has hair coming out of its ears."

Sister Haradance smiled indulgently at her as she laid the baby in the new ribbon bedecked cradle.

"You can watch her if you like, while I go in and clean up your sister. It looks like George didn't get the farm hand he ordered, but he's certainly got a beautiful baby girl.

She was, indeed, a beautiful child, so beautiful in fact that George even forgave her for being a girl.

TOC

Over two years passed and Frances cooed and gooed her way into the hearts of the family members. She was the darling of all the family, as well as of the hired men.

Shortly after Frances was born, George decided to go in partnership with his brother-in-law, Charley Starr. They decided to rent the farm from George's Father and go halfers on both the expenses and the profits (if there were such things on a farm).

Charley Starr was indeed a prince of a feller. He was tall, dark, and handsome. He had an engaging smile that displayed square, white teeth. No one had such a witty sense of humor as he did. He had a mechanical ability that was rarely equaled at that time.

Starr, as George called him, was older than George and already owned a home in town. He was already the father of two daughters and three sons, and had another child on the way.

The arrangement was that since Eve had children of school age, she would remain in town during the Winter months so she could send the children to school while Maude would remain on the farm to care for the men. And when Summer came, Eve would take care of the men and Maude would remain in town.

It was now June and Maude's turn for town. She found a small apartment which everyone called the little house, and it was just a block away from Maude's Mother. George stayed at the farm, only coming to town on the weekends.

Maude loved her vacation, and with contentment she awaited her second confinement. To make sure she wasn't lonely, and for company, Maude's Mother insisted that Helen, Maudie's sister, stay with her at night. Frances had already become an appendage to Helen's hand and she went wherever Helen went. Even Helen's girl friends included Frances wherever they went. She had grown into a beautiful little girl with her black curls, dark eyes, and deep dimples. She was also a little chatter box and Helen's girl friends would go into hysterics over her adult like conversation.

Since Helen had taken over the tending of Frances, Maude was able to do most anything she liked. It was such a wonderful feeling to be able to lie in bed in the morning, or be able to crochet uninterrupted. She could read or embroider or sew. It was like sewing for a doll to make clothes for her little girl, and she loved it. This was the first real vacation she had had since her marriage.

"Helen, it's only about three o'clock. I've punched the bread down and I'm taking it over home (she still called her mother's house home) to put it in the pans to bake in the morning. I want to get everything ready because I have a feeling something might be going to happen today. Just go back to sleep and when the baby wakes up you can get her dressed and bring her over."

Lifting the big pan of dough under her arm and balancing it on her bulging stomach, she went out of the house.

"My, it feels like it's going to be a hot one today. Here it's still the middle of the night and I can feel the heat pushing down already. I heard that it was 110 degrees yesterday. I'll bet it gets to 115 degrees today. Thank goodness for mother's nice cool house. I don't know what I'd do in my condition without the nice thick adobe walls Mother has. It really keeps the cool in and the heat out. Then, if it gets too hot, like I think it's going to be today, I can always go down in the cellar. It smells a little musty, but by spreading out a quilt on the floor Frances and I can always have a comfortable nap," Maudie mused as she walked along.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain that cut through her like a knife, almost causing her to drop her pan of dough. She had to stop until it was over and was hardly able to go on. The pain lingered until she got to Uncle Ure's, as she called her mother's close friend and neighbor. Then, she took a deep breath and hurried on. The second pain hit not more than two minutes after the first and just as she was going in the gate.

"Mother, Mother," she yelled as she reached the kitchen door. "Open the door quick and take this bread dough before I drop it."

It had been a hot night and Maude's Mother hadn't slept well, and she jumped out of bed when she heard Maude open the gate.

"Mother, I think I've started. I know I'm not due for another week and I did hope I'd come on George's birthday. I've just had a couple pains that I really think mean business."

Taking the bread dough from her daughter and setting it on the table, her Mother ran to the door to call her husband who was down in the lot taking the water."

"Frank, Frank, come quick. You'll have to hitch up the buggy and go for Mrs. Squires, Maude's having pains and Mrs. Squires lives clear out past the graveyard. And Frank, you better call the doctor before you go."

Maude's Mother could never stand the pressure of seeing a daughter in labor, or anyone hurt for that matter, and always passed the job of tending the sick on to her husband. Nevertheless, she stripped her own bed and got it ready for Maude to be confined in. She assured her daughter that she and Pa would sleep upstairs and that it would be much nicer for Maude to be closer to the parlor when her friends came to call. Then she put Maude to bed. Both doctor and nurse arrived a short time later.

"Mother, quick, help me to the bathroom," Maude cried as she bounced out of bed. As she sat down on the commode. a pain ripped through her that almost tore her body apart.

"Oh, it's coming, it's coming. I think it's going to be born in the toilet" she screamed.

"I told you to stay put," the doctor scolded.

With the help of her Dad and the doctor, they got her back in bed, and just in time. One more piercing pain and it was over.

The delivery had been short, but extremely painful. Once again, Maudie was delivered of a baby girl, a nice round, plump little girl.

"Well Maude," the doctor said, "it looks like we've got another little cook instead of that farm hand I promised George. She is a cute one, though, and just like a little butterball."

Thus I enter the story.

The fast day that my family felt was appropriate for me to be blessed finally rolled around, and still they hadn't decided on a name for me.

"Maude, you know meeting starts at four o'clock, so you had better make a decision as to what you are going to name this baby."

My family had met at my Grandmother's for dinner to celebrate the occasion. The name of Isobel had been thought of since it was a family name, but no one seemed to be enthused. They thought that perhaps Mariam, after Dad's Mother, might be appropriate since the last one had been named for Maude's Mother, but no one wanted me to be called Minnie, which my Grandmother Seegmiller had always been called.

Mother's youngest brother was Iying on the parlor floor reading the comics in the Sunday paper. He turned to the society page and was scanning through the social events of the big city.

"Maude, Maude, I do believe I've got your name," he called. "Just come in here and read this."

Col. Harold Smythe from Boston.... something or other....and his lovely little daughter, Betty Lou, were visiting in Salt Lake City with his family...." Ed went no further. "That's it. We're going to name her Betty Lou. Betty Lou -- doesn't that just fit that little cus?"

Isobel did seem kinda dull after hearing this exciting new name. My Dad wasn't much help when it came to considering names. He didn't know what he liked, but he did know what he didn't like, and this seemed to satisfy him.

At four o'clock that afternoon, I was christened Betty Lou. Most everyone liked the name, but there were a few older sisters of the ward that expressed their disapproval of these fad names and explained how much nicer it would have been if they had named me Elizabeth Louise.

TOC

Mother's second attempt to produce Dad a permanent hired hand left her in a weakened condition. I was a roly-poly girl, and though a good baby, I was always hungry and literally ate Mama alive. By the time I was nine months old Mama weighed only 90 pounds, and losing. Taking care of two babies, cooking for numerous hired men, washing separators, churning butter, and scrubbing on the board with water that had to be hauled from the canal bucket by bucket was just too much for her. When I had eaten her down to a mere 80 pounds, she decided with much chagrin that she would have to wean me, even though I was only nine months old. For the first time in her life she considered getting a hired girl. This was a real luxury for her and she would much rather spend her money for other things, but this time it just couldn't be helped.

Choosing a girl was the next thing. Trained help was a bit beyond their budget. She thought if she could find some young girl she could train her to do the things she herself couldn't do. They were told of a family in Washington that had several daughters, and upon investigating found that one of their younger girls was willing to take the job.

Mama had always looked forward to the trip to town for water and they always combined their trips for water with current errands. This time they decided to go up the back fields to Washington so they could pick up the new hired girl as well as the water.

It seemed to Mother that every time she prepared for an outing they received a visit from the water master. Today was no exception. She was just getting us kids ready when she looked up to see Mr. Pectol's white horse pass the window and go down to the work bench where Dad was greasing the hub of the buggy.

"I knew it, I knew it," Mama cried, "every time I plan something we have to take the water."

"And we're damn sure lucky to get it, too, 'cause we sure in hell need it and Pectol says we can have a couple hours of Joe Prince's turn 'cause he's going to town and don't want it."

"But you knew we were going after the hired girl and they'll be waiting."

"Can't be helped. We'll just have to send Lawrence."

"Lawrence was the current hired man. He was the son of a neighboring farmer and a very likable kid. He was a tall, skinny boy with a big smile and ready wit. He made friends easily with his easy manner and his gift of gab. His wage was one dollar a day and board for which he worked from sun up until sun down. He got to go to town Sunday morning after the chores were done, and didn't have to come back until morning. To be sent to town for water was just a little bonus for him.

"Lawrence, you better quit a little early. It looks like you'll have to be the one that goes to town for water tonight. You better go in the buggy this time, I guess you can get two barrels in. You'll be going to Washington this time too, even though I like St. George water better. You see, you've got to haul a little livestock as weil. It looks like Maude is going to need a little help and Pa made arrangements for one of those little Hall girls in Washington to come and help out for a while."

Lawrence whistled as he changed into a clean pair of bib overalls and slicked down his hair. He grabbed his straw hat and was soon driving the team through the front gate. It wasn't often that he was able to quit so early and take the buggy as well. One fleck of the whip and Rainbow, now a part of the buggy team, was rearing to go.

It was a warm April evening. Spring is a beautiful time in Dixie. It would soon be time for the first cutting of alfalfa and the ditch banks were covered with dandelions and some of the trees still clung to their blossoms. He could hear the morning doves moan, the shrill screech of the kildeer, and occasionally the meadowlark as that gay old bird announced that "Washington fields is a pretty little place."

The horses seemed to be as eager as he was to get going. If he hurried he would be able to sport around a little before it was time to start back.

The twilight had faded when Lawrence pulled up in front of the Hall's house. Ina, the new hired girl, was waiting on the porch. He was surprised at how tiny she was. At first he thought it was one of the little kids. She had straight, reddish blonde hair and a pale face that was covered with freckles, and big brown eyes. She was very shy and said little as he helped her up on the spring seat of the buggy.

It was just getting dark when they started out, and Lawrence flipped the reins and started the horses off in a trot, just to demonstrate to the timid little girl beside him just how well he could handle the horses. Soon the road became dark and scary, and as the wheels hit the ruts in the road it threw the little girl closer to him. Before long, she was clinging on to his arm as they bounced along. Then it got so dark that Lawrence had to give the horses their heads, for they couldn't see where they were going, she was able to steady herself with his arms. Even though he couldn't see the admiration for him in her eyes, it was there. He seemed so strong and she so innocent and shy. Ina probably stole his heart and gave him hers on this first acquaintance.

The new hired girl turned out to be as inexperienced as she was innocent. She didn't have the least idea how to go about doing things on her own. She couldn't churn butter or mix bread. She didn't know how to cook for hired men. She was too slight to haul water or scrub clothes. Mama had always kept a straight house and poor Ina didn't know enough about keeping house to follow a routine and to do first things first. Teaching her to do things right was harder on Mother than doing them herself.

Ina could wash dishes and she could tend kids and she could sweep the floor, and that was a big help.

During the next few weeks Maude noticed the attraction between Lawrence and Ina, and being the romantic person that she was, she egged them on.

"Golly, Ina," Mama would say, "I believe Lawrence has a case on you." Or she would say, "You really ought to make a hit with that Lawrence." Or, "Ina, Lawrence would really make you a good catch, and I think he likes you." To which Ina's pale face would turn a bright red.

It wasn't long, however, before Lawrence was finding a million excuses to go to the house -- to fill a water bag or to get tools from the work bench. Each time he came in the house he obligingly filled the wood box or hauled a bucket of water.

Evenings are long on a farm, for the little coal oil lamp doesn't shed enough light for reading, and besides, it's a waste of oil to stay up. Farm folks must retire early so they can get up early. The chores and supper are seldom over before dark, but once the supper dishes are done, farmers and their families are soon in bed.

While Ina washed the dishes, Mama tucked us kids in bed. Lawrence, who began to hang around the kitchen on some pretext or another, was soon drying the dishes for her. Then began those long, summer evenings sitting on the wood pile or watching the moon come up or just counting the stars.

Before Summer was over it was apparent that Dad's two young hired hands didn't exactly have their minds on their work, and he reluctantly realized that he had a full blown romance on his hands.

Dad would yell at Lawrence in exasperation, "For hell's sakes, quit mooning around and let's get this job finished." Or, "What's the matter with you, I've sent you to the bench for a saw three times and each time you come back with something else." Or, "Just how many times an hour do you have to go to the house for water." And finally in total exasperation, "You had better get that damn knot tied and get it over with so we can get back to work."

This time Dad didn't lose a hired man, but gained a hired girl. He added a room to the Dude house so they would have an apartment and Ina moved from the house to the Dode house. They lived on the farm and worked for us for a number of years. In fact, until they had a couple little hired hands of their own.

TOC

"Maude, I wish you'd keep them damn kids away from the Dude house. I don't like them hanging around Dutch so much."

"Oh, I don't think he minds. He seems to really like them. He seems so patient with them and tries so hard to make them understand him. He is always bringing them treats every time he goes to town. And then he is always taking their pictures and explaining it all to them. Why, they've never seen a Kodak before," Maude replied.

"Oh, I ain't worried about Dutch, it's the kids I'm worried about!"

"Why, George, what do you mean?"

"I don't like the way he's always patting them and the way he always wants to pick them up, especially Frances. Hell, she's almost six years old. What would a six foot high man want to hold and pet a big kid like that for?"

"Well, maybe he had kids that age back in Germany and he misses them."

"I doubt if Frances would remind him of one of his children, her being so dark. I'll bet his kids would be as blonde as that big old handle bar mustache he wears." Maude smiled at the very thought of such a thing.

"Actually, we don't know a hellava lot about him, do we?" George continued, "We don't really know if he really was a German prisoner of war, except what he told Dad. Hell, the war has been over for nearly three years, and I'm sure the government would have sent him back to Germany."

"Oh, I don't have any doubt that he came from Germany, at least he talks German. I still can't understand him, he talks too broken. And that Von in front of his name, doesn't that mean he is some kind of an aristocrat?" Mother was a sucker for the word aristocracy, seemed to make the person rather special.

"That's what I've heard. The way he dresses certainly places him in the military. I've scarcely seen him without those leather leggins and that big coat he wore last winter that had Captain bars on the shoulders. He walks and stands like a ramrod, but that heine hair cut really gives him away."

"Well, I'm really surprised you hired him, him smoking a pipe and all. I know how bad you hate smoking and here he's been here almost a year and still we know next to nothing about him. Why don't you talk to him and find out a little more where he actually came from. You took German in school, didn't you?"

"Ya, only because Pa wanted me to. I sure as hell didn't learn much. He works well enough, but it's obvious that he hasn't' done farm work before. I'll have to admit he's good with horses. He must have been in the cavalry. I thought Pa knew more about him than he did when he brought him down here. Pa seemed to think he was all right, and you'll have to admit Pa's a pretty good judge of horse flesh! I guess Pa was about the only one in town that understood German, and it says somewhere in the Bible that you should help a person in need, and we needed him at the time as much as he needed us. All the same, I want you to keep your eyes on the kids."

"Oh, George, you're just too fussy. What could happen to the kids? Dutch loves them."

"That's just the problem" Dad thought. "Poor innocent Maudie, she has probably never heard of men that molest little children."

So, the days rolled by and the haying was over for a while. Both Mom and Dad tried to keep their eyes on us kids and also on Dutch. Dutch was always polite and pleasant enough, even warm and friendly to us. Even so, he usually kept to himself. There was always a trail of smoke from his big pipe following him wherever he went.

"It gets rid of the gnats and mosquitoes," he said when Dad cautioned him to be careful around the stack yard. He worked hard and seemed to take special pride in caring for the horses, always brushing them down after a hard day's work, and seeing to it that they were all well fed and watered.

Mien liebe kind Fritzie, he called Frances, Fritzie being the German word for Frances. Soon, everyone else was calling her Fritz or Fritzie. Frances was a very precocious child and very pretty. Frances and Dutch did seem to have a special relationship. He was very patient when he tried to tell us stories, trying hard to say the right English words. He always brought us things from town when he went. They sold suckers and licorice as Ashby's Pool Hall where Dutch went to buy his pipe tobacco, and he always remembered to bring something to us. It was fun to go to Dutch's room, he always had so many interesting things there -- a rack full of big pipes, guns, Kodaks, and pictures. No one in our family smoked and it was really fascinating to watch him light his big pipe.

One evening after supper Frances whispered in my ear, "Let's go down to Dutch's room." Neither one of us could understand why Mama had told us we couldn't go there. "Dutch went to town yesterday and I think he had something for us." So, together we followed Dutch to his room after supper.

"Where's the kids?" Dad asked.

"Playing outside, I guess. It isn't dark yet. They're probably down to their play house under that big rose bush across the ditch from the Dode house," Mother answered.

"Fritz," he called (even the family had started to call her Fritz), but no answer. He looked in the play house, down to the corral, the out house, but still no answer. Then, he headed for the Dude house.

Dutch was holding Frances up in his arms and kissing her and calling her mien liebe kind when Dad opened the door.

"There you are, why in the hell didn't you answer me?"

Dutch loeked rather startled and guilty when Dad burst in the door and immediately he sat Frances down. We both had a stick of licorice in our hand.

"You vented sometink, George?"

"Ya, Maude wants to get the kids ready for bed."

"This is it," Dad thought. "Maybe Dutch does just like kids, but this looks rather odd and I'm not about to take chances, and I'm sick of worrying about it."

"Besides, I wanted to talk to you. You see, the haying is over and I guess I won't be needing another hand for a while. You've done your work well and I hope you find your way safely back to Germany. I'll have your check ready by the end of the week and you can catch a ride to town any time a good chance comes along."

I don't know why us kids remembered him so well, for none of us even remember his real name. He left only two things behind to remember him by - one large glass tobacco humidor, which I used for years to let my polywogs swim in, and the name Fritz which Frances carried throughout her entire school years. In the years that followed, whenever we spoke of our hired men, Frances always referred to Dutch as "my" hired man.

Frances and I learned early the art of cooking for Dad's hired men.

Our house in town was finally finished enough for us to move in when I was six years old. So, the day school started every September, we moved to town. That meant also moving the cows, pigs, chickens, and, of course, the separator. When school let out in late April or early May, we would again move back to the farm.

When we got our new house we also got an electric washing machine. So instead of Mama having to carry water from the ditch and wash on the scrubbing board, we would come to town sometime on Sunday, go to church if we got to town early enough, and do our washing on Monday. We did our ironing early Tuesday morning. Dad didn't usually stay over and one of us would have to go back with Dad to cook and clean up the house and wash the separator. In case no one knows what a separator is, it's a machine that separates the milk, taking out all the cream. There are numerous parts that fit together and have to be taken apart and washed and scalded with boiling water.

Mother had basic recipes that weren't too difficult for even a young kid. Of course, all our recipes had to be made from scratch and cooked on a wood stove.

Macaroni and cheese, boiled meat, stew, vegies, rice pudding, potatoes -- I was real good at making fried potatoes and onions.

Mama was a real sweetheart. I guess she knew that kids could be lonesome on the farm, so lots of times she allowed us to have friends from town stay with us. Sometimes they stayed a whole week, but mostly they would go down Monday morning when we went to cook for the men, and back again Tuesday morning when Dad delivered the meat to the market. All our friends were eager to go to the farm to ride horses and swim in the canal, and even cook for the hired men!

Mama was an excellent seamstress and always made us beautiful 4th of July dresses. Frances and I would spend hours looking at the fabric section of the Sears and Roebuck or Montgomery Ward catalogues. Voile or crepe de chine was our usual choice. The colors had such exotic names like nile, maise, mauve, coral, lavender, nude, shell, or Copenhagen blue -- never just pink, blue or green. Our dresses usually had lots of hemstitched ruffles and ecru lace. Frances, being the older and the most dynamic, got first pick, usually coral. I, most invariably, got lavender.

We also had to have a new nightgown for the sleeping out parties on the third of July. This was usually made of a colored cotton plesse, and usually in a floral print. We spent long hours with the catalogue and could scarcely wait to go to town to see if our package had arrived.

Mama was a great hand at making us new dresses out of Grandma or Aunt Helen's old ones. Aunt Helen always had such pretty dresses and we would fight to see who got the current hand-me-down.

We might live on the farm, but Mama always saw to it that we were as stylishly dressed as any other kid in town. Mama was not an old fuddy duddy and we were about the first kids in town to wear half-hose in the Spring. We always had a new straw poke bonnet. Mama didn't want us to have freckles or black skin like some of our farm neighbors' kids. We might go bare footed on the farm, but we always had a nice pair of black patent MaryJanes.

When we went to town we would stop only long enough to take our weekly bath and then head for Grandmother Miles' where there was lawn and shade.

Although our house was about the nicest one in town, we were not there long enough to tend or water any lawns or trees or shrubs. The house just sat on a lot of red clay that seemed to bake in the sun.

Frances was talented in dancing and she started taking lessons at age eight. Dad would saddle Old Peggy and she would ride to town for her lesson and then ride home again. Usually, she would bring a friend home with her for the weekend. Once again, Mama was surely tolerant.

Mama was very clever at making costumes. Frances was in lots of performances and Mama figured out the costumes for the whole class.

As I grow older, I realize what a lot of things I learned on the farm while I was growing up, and it probably all started with us learning to cook for Dad's hired men.

Levi Bradley had ridden the train to Modena and then hitched a ride on Dan Ahistrom's freight wagon bound for St. George. The only reason for heading for St. George was that there was nothing in Modena, and the present opportunity to ride was toward St. George. He said he was a World War veteran, he had been overseas, then had been sent West and now that he had been discharged he was trying to work his way back to his home in Pennsylvania. Dan felt sorry for this sad eyed little Jew when he saw him get off the train, for Modena was as far as his money would take him and so Dan offered him a ride into St. George. Levi had no money even to buy food. Levi proved to be of help to Dan on his way to St. George by driving the team so that Dan could take a little rest. "This poor guy looks perfectly helpless, but I guess he is able to do some things. Maybe George could use him in some way so that he could get a fare to the next town.

"Levi, have you ever worked on a farm? I have a brother-in-law who has a farm near St. George, maybe he could give you a few day's work."

Levi walked the full five miles to the farm. The day was extremely hot, especially so for one wearing a wool flannel army shirt and pants.

George eyed the young man critically and, after listening to his story, wondered just what help this frail young man could possibly be to him. He certainly didn't look like a farm hand, he was slightly built, almost frail. His speech and nose verified his Jewish ancestry. He wasn't a bad looking young man, possibly twenty-one or two. He was dark of complexion and had black wavy hair and a receding chin. He had a definite bulge on one side of his face which shifted from side to side, ingicating the use of chewing tobacco. It was his eyes that got to Dad, however. When he looked into those big sad brown eyes, he decided to give him a chance. Further conversation brought to light the fact that Levi had been training mules in the army and George had just the pair of mules to care for, Jet and Johnson -- a more ornery, hard working pair couldn't be found anywhere. "Well," he thought, "it won't be a complete loss. I've now a driver for my mules."

"You can take your things over to the Dode house. Just go upstairs, there's an extra cot you can use and a cupboard to put your things in. We don't have running water out here, but there is an old number 2 hanging underneath the porch and there's always a ditch full of water running by the building." George added the bit about the tub after standing next to Levi for a few minutes. "You might want to use that tub the first thing you do after that long walk from town in the middle of the day. I'll bet your clothes are soaking wet."

Little did he know that Levi was allergic to water. In fact, he was frightened to death of it and only used a half a basin full to wash his face and hands in. And as for taking a bath, well Levi just wouldn't think of it. Throughout the years he spent with us, his b.o. was so potent that he was always seated between the window and the door where the breeze could carry his odor on out the door.

Levi was pathetically eager to please and very good with animals, and usually patient with all of them except Jet and Johnson. He was awfully slow, but Dad knew that he was dependable and he had endurance. He could drive a team, feed the stock, and haul rocks. In fact, the farm seemed to grow rocks, every time a load was hauled away and was plowed again, there was a fresh crop and it had to be done all over again.

It was about time for my sister to start school and so Dad had purchased a lot in town and had dug the basement for a new house. Our new house was to be quite fancy -- the new bungalo style that had become so popular in California. The bottom of the house was to be built of cobblestone, which had to be hauled from the river bank at Cooperbottom. Levi was good at loading the wagon with cobblestones, hauling them to town and unloading them at the new home site. Levi was always trustworthy and Mama would sometimes let us go along with him. It was always fun because Mama would always pack us a picnic and would usually send a bottle of grape juice so we could drink it from our little tin tea set that Santa Claus had brought us for Christmas.

Mama was expecting a new baby, and so just before Christmas we moved to town until after the new baby was born, in a rented house across the street from Grandpa and Aunt Fern.

Two days after Mama's birthday, Frances and I were hustled across the street to Grandpa's house in the middle of the night. The little apartment that Mama was renting had only two rooms, and having two little girls in a room where you were having a baby just wouldn't work. Daddy put us in bed with Grandpa and took Aunt Fern along with him. We knew something important was about to take place, and sure enough, next morning we were informed that we had a new baby sister. She was an absolutely beautiful baby, even little kids could recognize this fact. Her skin was so white and her hair was so long and black. Three days later the elders were hurriedly called in and the baby blessed and given the name of Maude Rosemond, after Mama. She died the next day of pneumonia. Sadly, we moved back to the farm the next month.

Frances started school that fall, and because the new house wasn't finished she lived at Aunt Fern's and Grandpa's. It was awfully lonely for me that Winter and I really waited for Friday night when Dad went to town for water and to bring Frances home for a couple of days.

In spite of the farm work, Dad knew that he must finish the house. The new house had a lava rock foundation that was hauled from the black hill on the south and east of town. The house itself was made of adobe brick, two thicknesses, and then the bottom of the house was faced with cobble stones. Since dad was trying to get the house finished, Levi spent most of his days hauling the cobble stones.

One couldn't help liking this pathetic little fellow. He never spoke of his family Qr friends and he seemed to have no one. He became a part of the family, even Grandma Miles, as fastidious as she was, accepted Levi and even invited him to dinner when he brought a load of hay to town. Levi became the butt of all the jokes, and because he was so gauche he didn't always know that he was being teased. Aunt Helen was young and pretty and she and her girl friends came to the farm often and they would kid Levi along until he would blush. Uncle Ed, Mama's younger brother, was a born tease and could think of things to say that no one would ever think of. He delighted in egging Levi on when it came to talking about Aunt Helen, for Levi had a drastic case on her.

Ed would say something like this, "Levi, have you ever seen a girl's trousseau?" He would say this very sensuously and Levi would turn a deep red, then he would add, "Helen has one' maybe she'll show it to you sometime." Then very solicitously, "She might even let you put your hand on it." Poor Levi, he would nearly die of embarrassment. All in all, Levi accepted the family with gratitude and as a part of his own.

The new house wasn't finished by the beginning of the school year, so once again Frances had to stay with relatives, this time with Grandma Miles at the start of the year.

By Christmas Eve the kitchen, two bedrooms, and the bath were finished. And Mama decided to move in. Someone had contributed a small pinion pine tree and Mama had covered it with paper chains, strung popcorn, cranberries, and candles, and it stood proudly in the center of our new breakfast nook the next morning when we woke up. Dad couldn't stand to see anyone alone during a holiday, and so he invited Levi, odor and all, to spend Christmas with us. But Levi was generous too. Under the Christmas tree was a beautiful china header, jointed doll with real hair and sleepy eyes for me, and a china tea set for Frances. Levi liked me better than Frances. Even though Frances was young, she was not above repeating the often heard conversations of the rest of the family that Levi should take a bath. I was probably too young or too dumb to know just how bad he did smell.

That was a lovely Christmas. Our house was by no means finished, only the kitchen, bedrooms, and bath, which contained one of those new gadgets called a shower. The shower was a wonderful contraption where you could stand naked and let the nice warm water from a pipe spill over you just like rain. We also had a new little room called a breakfast nook, a little room on the kitchen so small it only had room for a table and chairs.

As we were eating our breakfast in our new little breakfast nook, we could see from the window a truck pulling around to the back of our house. Mama looked out the window and exclaimed, "Well, for heaven's sake, what is Joe Empey doing at our house on Christmas morning?"

Joe Empey was the only electrician in town and was head of the power and light company.

"Well, I thought as much as we had both power and water you had better have a washing machine to go with it."

There have been many lovely Christmas gifts given to Mama in her life, but a reprieve from the wash board was the nicest one she ever had.

The next Fall, Levi received word his Father was dying and for him to come home. Levi hated to leave his new friends, but he left for Philadelphia assuring us that he would be back someday.

After Levi left, several people took their turns at being Dad's Hired Hands. First, there were Walter and Elanore Smith. Elanore was the oldest grandchild in the family. She further distinguished herself by graduating from college and had a job teaching home eonomics in Snowflake, Arizona. When she met a handsome young man just home from the navy, she immediately fell in love. After school had ended for the summer, she came home to spend the vacation with her family. Her young man followed her home and they were married before school started again. Walter had a great desire for an education in the agriculture field and had gone to college for two years. Finances forced him to work for a while and so he came to work for Dad.

Walter and Dad had much in common, mostly a genuine need to improve the land that they were given custody of. Together they tried out all sorts of different techniques of planting and watering, and different methods of leveling and terracing. The holy land was always a problem and they tried to find different ways to stop the sink holes from robbing them of an entire stream of water. Elanore was a very cooperative farm wife. Because of her training in home economics, she was always drying fruit and vegetables and preserving and canning. Walter stayed with Dad until after the birth of their second child, and then he went back to school. Upon his graduation he became the agricultural agent for Washington County. Walter was a great help to Dad in the years that followed and their friendship increased as the years went by. He always went the extra mile in finding new information, new ideas, and the latest seed hybrids for Dad. Walter died at a very young age, leaving Elanore to raise a young family of four children.

We had been living in the new house about a year when Mama once again gave birth to another baby girl. Mama nearly died after this delivery. The baby was born at home and everything seemed to go well. The delivery had been fast and hard, but with the use of chloroform she got along quite easily. However, Mama was a small woman and the baby weighed ten pounds.

"Sorry, George, that you still didn't get your boy, but you surely have a fine girl, why she's practically grown. With all that black hair she looks as if she is a month old already. Well, I guess everything is all taken care of for tonight, so I guess I'll go home and see you tomorrow." Dr. Woodbury lingered at the door for a moment before he picked up his bag.

"Oh, we like girls just fine and we can always try again. My Dad had five boys before he had a girl, and then he had five girls before he had another boy, and this only makes three for us. We haven't given up yet, have we Maude?" when she didn't answer he turned around again to repeat the question.

"What's the matter with her Doc, she's white as a sheet!"

"Oh, my God," he replied, "It's lucky I hadn't left yet." Throwing off his coat he went to work.

Mama had begun to hemorrhage and the doctor spent the rest of the night fighting for her life. Mother was a survivor, and though she was weak for a long time and her recovery took longer than usual, she was soon up managing he, household herself as the hired girl didn't quite meet with her standards of house keeping.

December was a dismal month and a bad time for a new baby. Everyone knew that if a baby was taken out in the air before they were three months old it would suffer from a severe case of colic. It was the first of March before they could even think of naming the baby.

Once again, the Sunday paper gave Mama a clue as to what the popular names were. When she saw the name Jacqueline, she was really intrigued. The name sounded so chic and classy. The baby had dark curly hair and big brown eyes, and seemed to match the name perfectly. Grandpa Miles on the other hand was rather skeptical, and he distrusted anything that sounded so French.

"Maude, Jacqueline is too different and hard to say. If you call her Jackie, it would sound too masculine. Why, when she gets to be an old lady she would lose all her dignity if someone called her old lady Jack. I just don't think that would do at all." Then he added, "Why don't you name her after someone that has a lovely character, someone that we could associate the name with? Don't you think Ruby is a lovely name? Ruby Bryner is a good example, she represents such good qualities. And then there's Grace's sister, Ruby Frojam. Ruby Bryner was the P.E. teacher from the local college. It is true that she was a beautiful lady, an old maid, and a shirt tail relationship of Grandma, and Grandpa had always admired her gentle qualities. My Aunt Grane's sister was also a delightful person and particularly friendly to Grandpa.

Mama didn't want to hurt Grandpa's feelings, but she though Ruby sounded more like a colored maid or a floozy.

March finally rolled around. The name Grace had been added to the list as well as Helen. Still, the name had not been totally committed. Dad still didn't have the proper authority to do the blessing, so it fell to Grandpa once again to give her the name.

"Well, Maude, the time has arrived. What's it going to be?"

"I guess it will be Jacqueline, I really like it, and I'm sure no one will call her old lady Jack! Mother thinks it's a classy name too, and George wouldn't mind a boy's name, maybe that's the closest he will get to a boy."

When Grandpa took the baby in his arms to give her a name he said, "I take this child in my arms and give her a name and a Father's blessing. The name I give her to be known on the records of men is Ruby Seegmiller."

Mother was totally shocked, but what was done was done and she didn't change the name. Dad didn't seem to mind, and as it turned out, this little girl was really a precious gem.

The Whipples also lived with us one summer. This made life more interesting for Frances and I. They not only had kids our age, Caddie was in my class in school and Norma was in Frances'. The Whipples had lots of relatives that came to visit. These people were from Sand Town, and in school Sand Town was the area where all the tough kids lived, so their visits were really exciting.

Mrs. Whipple's older children were all married or living away from home when they lived on the farm. When these older girls came to visit it was really quite thrilling. Belle had lots of beaus and Lou was so pretty. Inez was planning to marry my step-cousin and move over to Uncle Charles' farm as soon as they were married. Mrs. Whipple was a very congenial woman, warm hearted, and easy to talk to. She never minded when we played at her place and made messes. She always seemed to have company. Mr. Whipple was a wiry little man. His skin was dark from working long hours in the sun. Mr. Whipple never had a business of his own and always worked for others. Dad liked him, thought him hard working and capable. He thought him to be conservative with water and that made him solid with Dad as the whole operation centered around the water.

One summer afternoon a new car came driving over the hill and up to the front yard. Naturally, everyone rushed out to see who it was, as cars were still a novelty, and out stepped Levi. Levi's Father had left him a small inheritance and with it he had purchased a brand new Starr car. After his Father's death he felt that the years spent with us had made him closer to us than anyone else. He had driven that Starr car all the way from Philadelphia, and by the time he arrived in St. George, he was ready to give it away. He nearly wore his arm out cranking and pumping tires and he had to fill the radiator every few miles.

"George," he said, "If you want the car, it's yours."

So, Dad purchased the car from Levi. It was a lovely, two seater touring car, and ran much better than our old Ford fliver. Dad could appreciate how Levi felt because of the experience he had had with the first Model T he had bought. Dad and Charley Starr had gone to town to bring this new fliver home -- Starr had had lots of experience with engines and knew how to drive. Dad, on the other hand, had never driven a car before.

"If I can drive a span of mules, I can't see any reason these new gas buggies should be any harder than that."

With a little instruction from Starr they started for the farm. The car went quite well and he was able to steer it down the road. All went well until they had to stop to open the gate. When Dad put on the brake, suddenly he killed the engine. Well, he cranked and cranked and cranked, and he couldn't turn the engine over. Then Starr took a turn and he cranked and cranked until he was worn out.

"How in the hell are we going to get her over to the house?"

Once again they took turns cranking and cranking.

"I'm sick and tired of this, I'm going after the mules. I'm damn sure they can pull a little ol' fliver." And so he walked back to the corral and was soon back with the mules. They hitched the traces to the front of the car and Dad, sitting on the radiator with the lines in his hands, guided the mules. Starr got inside and did the steering. The car was easy to pull and the mules started out on a trot. All at once the engine took hold and started up. The car went faster than the mules and nearly ran over them. Starr tried and tried to steer it so he wouldn't run over the mules, but when the car bumped into them they kicked with both feet. It took a few uneasy minutes before they knew what to do. With the key turned off and the engine killed again they made it back to the house. Dad never really liked that fliver from then on, and was glad to trade it for the new Starr car.

Levi's sojourn in the big city hadn't improved his personal grooming habits any. Most everyone was glad to see him though, and they gladly relinquished his old spot at the table.

One evening Dad and Levi went up to the main canal to turn down the water. It was a nice warm evening and the water was extra clear and filled to the brim.

"What an ideal time," thought Dad, "to introduce Levi to the fine art of taking a bath and washing clothes at the same time."

As Levi stooped to pull one of the boards, Dad accidentally (on purpose) stumbled against him and knocked him into the water.

"Help, help, I'm drowning. George! Get me out! Hurry, hurry."

"Oh, quit your fussing, the canal isn't that deep. Just stand there. This might give you a chance to take a bath. The water seems nice and warm."

But when Dad saw the look of total terror on Levi's face and his absolute fear of the water, he quickly helped him out, hoping the water might have done a little good. Levi explained that he had nearly drowned when he was a kid and he had never gone close to the water since. Regardless of the heat and sweat that summer, Levi still kept his vow and he never went near the water.

The Whipples were still living on the farm when Levi returned and he soon became smitten with Inez, knowing full well that she was preparing for her wedding. Inez hadn't encouraged him but had always been nice to him. Levi was rather disheartened when Inez left, but cheered up considerably when her new husband offered him a job. He left right in the middle of haying and Dad was rather put out with him and tried to explain to him that Inez was now married and wouldn't have time for him. It didn't take long for him to become disillusioned with his new job and was soon back to see if Dad wouldn't take him back.

"George, things just didn't work out yet and I'd really like to come back."

"I'm sorry, Levi, I had to hire someone else to take your place and I just can't use anyone else just now." Dad really felt guilty turning him down because Levi looked so repentant.

"I must go back to Pennsylvania for a while yet, but I want to come back, perhaps there will be work then?"

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see what is happening when you get back."

"Do you mind if I leave some of my things here? I have a chest that is too large to take with me. I don't intend to stay long and I'll probably be back before winter."

"Sure, just put it in the cellar and I'll take it up and put it in Pa's attic. You can pick it up there when you get back."

Fifty years passed and Levi never returned. When his chest was opened, it was found to contain some old army clothes, a medal, a few yellowed letters from his Father and his photograph. In spite of all the years that passed, his clothes still had the smell of Levi.

"What a pity," Dad said, "to have fought for one's country and worked hard for years, and the only memory you leave behind is your B.O."

"Ouch, ouch, ouch" I moaned as I rocked myself back and forth on the front room floor, cradling my foot so that the lump of soda and vinegar plastered on it wouldn't fall off. "I guess red ant stings hurt more than anything else in the world!"

Mama had sent me to the front room where it was cooler and told me to have a nap or play doll or anything I wanted. The room was still quite cool due to the insulation of the huge stones of the wall. The walls were two feet thick. Every morning Mama would shut the doors and windows so that the cool night air would remain all day and she wouldn't allow the doors to be opened again until evening. I thought our front room was awfully pretty. Mama always kept it nice and tidy. Every morning she would dip her broom in warm water to keep the dust down as she swept the carpet, that made the pink and red roses in the corner stand out nice and bright. On the wall of the room stood a beautiful carved wardrobe with drawers on the bottom where I kept my little dolls. On the same side of the room were some deep shelves where Mama kept all her beautiful wedding dishes. I could spend hours looking at them. Mama had told us such interesting stories about the people who had given them to her. The lovely hand painted china plates were a gift from Grandmother's only sister. The dainty sugar and cream pitcher was from a friend who was now a doctor. The beautiful lead crystal was from Aunt Edith, and her divorce had caused much consternation in the family. Mama had made a big story of Maude Rosemond Snow, Mother's namesake, and who had been her teacher all through school, who had given her the cake plate, and who was such a strict teacher that all of her students were scared to death of her. Although I had never even seen these people they seemed very real to me.

On the south side of the room was an organ. The organ really belonged to Daddy's sisters who had earned the money to buy it by feeding dogie calves and then selling them. And on the west was a couch and the new victorola. Mama was really proud of this new addition to our front room and she was equally proud of the opera records by Gala Kershie and Henry Caruso. Personally, I liked the war records, Till we Meet Again and Beautiful Ohio better.

Soon the ant bite felt better and I decided to play nickel doll. The stoop between the front room door and the outside screen was at least two feet wide and it made an excellent place to make a doll house. Mama had given me numerous empty thread spools and some little extract bottles and a match box and lots of pieces of left-over cloth.

"I think I'll make some new furniture. Mama had just bought a new tube of LePages glue,,and with some pieces of cardboard and the empty spools I can make a table and maybe some chairs."

I had received a new doll for my birthday. This doll was better than the average nickel dolls, it had cost a dime and had moveable arms and legs and not just painted on ones.

Getting up carefully so as not to dislodge the soda pack on my foot, I hobbled over to the sewing machine to look in the drawer for some empty spools. There in the top drawer I found a bent crochet hook and I changed my mind about playing doll. Instead, I decided to go sit in my favorite place in the window seat. The window seat was also two feet thick, so it gave me plenty of room. The house was old and where the two boards combining the window ledge came together there was about a quarter inch crack. All kinds of treasures could be picked out of the crack if you had the proper equipment -- and the crochet hook would be just right. It seemed that if one probed long and deep enough, one might even fish out a penny. I hadn't much luck, however, and I had dug out a hair pin and two bent rusty pins. Then, I felt something round, a penny perhaps? It was stuck and I couldn't seem to get it out. I was so engrossed with what I was doing that I didn't notice the dust until it turned down Schmutz's land.

"Mama," I screamed. "There's a dust coming and it looks like it's stopping at our gate. Maybe someone is coming to visit. It's so slow that it must be a wagon." It was exciting for us to have just anyone come visiting.

"It's probably just someone coming to borrow," she answered. "It seems like every farmer in the valley comes over here to fix their equipment or to borrow what they forgot to bring from town."

"No, it's coming from town, besides it's almost sundown and everyone has already gone back to town."

A dust stopping at the gate and coming across the hill at this time of day meant a visitor and not just a borrower. As the cloud of dust grew larger and nearer I watched with eager anticipation with my nose pressed against the pane. It seemed ages before I was able to make out a covered wagon pulled by two scrawny brown horses. Holding the lines and seated on the spring seat out in front was a large woman. Soon I could see that she had lots of freckles and a sun bonnet that covered her red hair and she had on a pink calico dress. The sleeves of her dress were short,exposing her large forearms that were also covered with freckles. Beside her sat a thin little man wearing a shabby ten gallon hat and calmly chewing his tobaccy as the wagon clattered along.

Finally, the wagon rolled to a squeaky stop and three pairs of eyes peered out of the black hole behind them. I could see that two of the pairs of eyes were partly concealed by bangs and sun bonnets, and that meant girls.

By the time I had climbed down from the window and gotten to the door and alerted Mama, the little man had jumped down from the wagon and was headed for the shed and work bench where Dad was sharpening some shovels on the grind stone.

Mama cautioned me to stay where I was, and so I watched from the doorway. The woman had a smiling face and sat contentedly on her seat in the shade of the porch while she waited, occasionally slapping at a fly or a mosquito that lit on her large freckled arm. She seemed to be talking to her children, but they didn't appear any further. In a few minutes the little man came back, and after some visible instructions to the woman, she flipped the reins and headed the horses toward the Dode house, then she pulled up the horses. The man started to unhitch while the woman started to unload. Little hands handed out a big black bake oven, a coffee pot, and a bed roll.

"Mama, who is it and what are they doing? Can I go out and see? They have kids."

"I don't know who they are, but it looks like your Father has told them that they could camp here. He always takes in every stray that stops by. No, I don't want you to go out until we see what's going on."

"Maude, where are you?" called Dad from the kitchen.

"I'm in the front room, dear, and who are those people?"

"That's what I wanted you for. They're some nesters from Texas and they're going out on the Strip to homestead. They'd like to camp here for a few days. They were told in town that maybe I could use them to help watch the cows out south. Since old Shanley and his bunch have been out there I've lost a hellava lot of calves. If I had someone out there to brand maybe I wouldn't lose so many. Do you think you could help them out with a little water, some vegetables, or milk or something?"

Thus the Joe Beech's became Dad's newest hired hands.

Frances and I were simply fascinated by the Beech's. Mrs. Beech cooked over an open fire to make the evening meal and we found out that they had baking powder biscuits baked in a Dutch oven three times a day, and the kids drank coffee -- black. Although Joe and Mrs. Beech slept in the wagon, Alma, Leona, and Thumb slept on quilts on the ground under the wagon. Alma was about two years older than Frances, but Leona was just my age. Never had a hired man had such exciting kids -- and girls at that. We coaxed Mama to let us stay up after dark and go over to their camp and sit around their fire. Gee, they knew all about the stars and the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper and all kinda neat things. Mama wasn't too impressed with the Beech's. She couldn't understand how a woman could "live right out in the dirt like that."

A few days later the Beech's resumed their journey out to the Arizona Strip to make their home. Every few months the covered wagon would roll back over the hill and Mrs. Beech would set up housekeeping in our back yard. The would go to town and fill their water barrels, replenish their supply of beans, flour, and coffee, and any other staples, and then they would go again. For several years they came and went every month or so. Then, all at once they vanished for quite a few years.

One Fall afternoon the same old covered wagon rolled over the hill again. Joe and Mrs. Beech were sitting in the front as usual, but on Mrs. Beech's lap and hanging onto her pendulous freckled breast was a little boy about three years old. Thumb was trailing behind on a broom tailed mustang which had on only a hackamore around its nose and a rope around its neck. On his head was a duplication of his Dad's ten gallon hat, but his face was all bandaged and his jaws were wired shut.

"My God, Joe, what have you got there?" Dad exploded as he took in the baby on Mrs. Beech's lap, "I thought you'd be done lamming before now."

Mrs. Beech was well into her forties by this time. She pulled the little boy from her and proudly announced, "This is Barney!"

By this time Thumb rode up.

"What in the hell did you do to Thumb?"

Poor Thumb, his front teeth were gone and his jaws were wired together because of a broken jaw, and his nose was all mashed out of shape.

"Well, it was like this," Joe drawled. "He was breaking some mustangs and one threw him and stepped on his face. That's the main reason we came in again, we been a livin' out to Little Tank, but it's too far to come in to the doctor, and I guess Thumb'll be needing a doc for a while.

Once again the Beech's took up residence at our place while at the farm, then back out to their dugout on the strip. Once again Joe became our cowboy and looked out after our cows. This time they stayed for quite a few years.

By this time Mama spent most of her time in town. With the advent of cars it was not necessary to actually live on the farm. We usually went to the farm in the morning to cook dinner for the hands, but we came home again at night. There were only a few of the men that lived there all the time. Mrs. Beech decided to stay in the Dode house when they came in town. Mama was always friendly with her, but didn't choose to have her for a best friend. Dad, on the other hand, was always singing her praises. He admired the way she followed Joe around the country and lived in dugouts and made do with what she had. He came home all excited one time after a trip out south and told me how Leona, the girl my age, had saved tobacco sacks and dyed them with rabbit brush dye and sewed them together and made a quilt, to which Mama replied, "If they hadn't spent that much money on tobacco they could have bought some decent material for a quilt. Besides, who would want a quilt made out of tobacco sacks? I wouldn't have it in my house. Maybe if I didn't have a big house to keep up and so many hired men to feed I could spend my time sewing on scraps of worthless material."

Mama wasn't really being vindictive, but she could sense the hidden agenda in Dad's praise of the Beech's. She felt he was criticizing her for not being content with the primitive conditions the Beech's were content with.

Mama loved nice things and worked plenty hard to get them, but she felt she had to justify herself. In Mama's opinion the Beech's lifestyle seemed a lazy way.

"Why, she doesn't even have to sweep a floor, and cooking a pot of beans doesn't seem like too much work."

However, it was exciting to me to go out south with Dad and go into that dugout. Her beans tasted wonderful to me, seasoned like they were with chili. I was fascinated with Mrs. Beech's Texas drawl. I was a little afraid of the spiders in the corners of the dugout and couldn't help but think of snakes, and then the dank smell of musty earth wasn't too pleasant, but I guess they soon got used to that. I guess living in a dugout suited their needs. They did have their problems just like anyone else, though. Thumb was always getting broken bones and then there were problems with their daughter.

Leona, the daughter my age, ran away with Alma, the oldest daughter's husband, and had a baby leaving Alma with a little boy to raise. It was just like a soap opera and she told me all about it. I guess she must have been very lonesome and needed another female to talk to, even if it was only a sixteen year old girl.

Still, they were content to follow this way of life, being in a dugout, driving thirty miles over rocky, almost non-existing trails in a wagon for supplies or any medical attention they needed.

Little Joe had homesteaded a section of land and they owned a few cows, and by caring for Dad's cattle as well as his own, they were able to survive.

This way of life lasted until Little Joe developed cancer and they had to move into the farm where Little Joe died a few months later.

These people chose a different way to live than we did and it certainly made me appreciate the type we chose.

Our Jimmy was born the year I was in the fourth grade. That was the Winter the Johnsons lived at the farm.

The Johnsons came from Vernal, Utah, where the winters were extremely cold. Mrs. Johnson was very ill and it was necessary to come to a warmer, drier climate. The family wasn't too affluent and it was hard to find a place for a large family to live. Mr. Johnson came to Dad for a job and was really thrilled to find a house to live in as well as a Winter job. The family consisted of four sons and a married daughter, ranging in age from 10 to probably 18. They were a very good looking family.

Even though Lorin was in my class in school, I don't remember him very well. Mrs. Johnson spent the entire Winter in bed and Blanch, the daughter, took care of the family. Poor Blanch, when I think of her now I wonder how she was able to do all she did. She was perhaps one of the world's worst house keepers. The thing we remembered most was watching how she mopped the floor. She would drag a damp cloth around with her foot until she had cleaned up most of the dirt. When we did a poor job of mopping at our house, Mother accused us of mopping like Blanch. Today I think maybe she had a good idea -- that poor girl had more to do than she was able. Having to care for a sick Mother and cook for six hungry men without water and electricity would, indeed, have been a challenge.

The family only stayed that winter, but Harold and Floyd stayed the summer, going home in the Fall but returning in the Spring for several years. Although I was only a little girl I can still remember how good looking those boys were and I can still remember Floyd's beautiful, dark red, curly hair.

I was about 13 the year I began to notice there was a difference between boys and girls. Harold came back that Summer for the last time. He decided that he was almost as good looking as Ken Murry, the cowboy movie star. Harold was having a romance with one of the girls that lived on a neighboring farm, and I thought how lucky can a person be.

Floyd came back for a couple of more Summers. It was on one of those Summers that Dad had his greatest temper tantrum!

Dad usually did the mowing. The team that he usually used to cut hay was Bird and Brownie. Bird was an unusually mild mannered mare and Brownie followed her. They were busy this particular time and decided to cut a round of alfalfa before dinner, so he hitched up Jet and Johnson, the mule team. Things went well until they got to the hay field. Then, Johnson became his usual ornery, stubborn self. As they started to cut, he began to balk. No matter what Dad did, he couldn't make him stop. Dad kept getting madder and madder -- his fuse was ready to blow.

"You old son of a bitch, stay there!" he shouted. Securing Johnson firmly so he couldn't run away, Dad came in to dinner.

A few minutes later Floyd came in.

"George, what's happening? Johnson was really floundering and I think he went down."

"For hell sakes, why didn't you cut him loose?"

"I thought that was what you wanted and I didn't want to interfere."

Now, Dad was angry at Floyd.

"Looks like you shoulda used some G.D. sense."

He ran from the house and to the hay field only to find a dead mule. In Johnson's struggle to get loose, and without water, he died. Dad had had a love/hate relationship with this mule from day one, and he really felt bad. When Johnson wanted to be, he was a real worker.

Dad was so ashamed at what he had allowed his bad temper to cause, he vowed he would never let his temper get the best of him again. Of course, that didn't happen, and whenever he cussed an animal or anyone else, Mother never let him forget what happened to poor old Johnson.

"George, for heaven sakes, lie still. Do you know what time it is? Why, it's almost three. You've been wiggling and turning ever since you got back from turning the water. I'd think you'd be tired to death by now. What's bothering you anyhow? Can I help any?"

"Well, it's like this -- I been thinking and trying to work something out. I received a letter from Uncle Dan's youngest boy, Paul, and he wants to come to work for me. He was always a likable kid, always pleasant, and I've been told he's a real good help. He's married to one of those Sproul girls from Washington and she seems to be a damn nice little woman. They have three little kids already and she is expecting again about the same time you are. I'm just wondering how we can work out living accommodations this Summer. It seems like the Dude house steps would be rather hard for her with those little kids and her pregnant and all. How would it be if we turned the north bedroom into a kitchen for us and use the front room for our bedroom. If Frances spends the Summer with Helen in California, we'd only need two beds. We could use the double and we could make up the sanitary cot for Bette and Ruby. Edith could use the old kitchen and the sleeping porch, then you could use the store room together. That would leave the Dode house for the rest of the men."

Little problems became quite complicated for Dad in the middle of the night, and he made quite elaborate plans to solve them.

"For Pete's sake, go back to sleep. You don't have to solve anything tonight. School doesn't even let out for a while, so we won't be moving down for at least two weeks. You say Edith is pregnant? Well, that will be nice having company this Summer and someone to share a pregnancy with."

"Their oldest is a girl about Ruby's age, then she has two little boys."

"My, she really does have her hands full. I'm sure we can work something out. Now, for heaven sake's go to sleep. It will be time to get up before we get any sleep at all."

"Thanks, Ma, I knew I could count on you. I know it'll work out real good."

Things did work out. They divided the house. A fresh new willow shade was added on the north to extend the shaded area for the kids to play under. Grandpa Miles made each of them a new five gallon canvas water bag to hang under the shade on their own side. A willow wall was also added to the west and east to protect them from the morning and late afternoon sun.

Mama and Edith got along well. Both were expecting babies within a few weeks of each other. Edith was hoping for a girl while Mama was hoping against hope that this fifth try would produce a long awaited son.

Mama and Edith had lots of projects together. One day Dad came to report that there were several turkey hens that had begun to steal their nest in various parts of the farm.

"Maude," he said, "if you and Edith will watch those hens and take their eggs when they leave their nests for something to eat, you can make them lay their entire clutch of eggs before they set. I'm sure they can cover fourteen or fifteen eggs. There is one hen starting to set in the fireplace of the old Morris house across the street."

The old Morris house had burned down years ago, and now consisted of four sandstone walls with lots of nooks and crannies for hens to set and birds to build nests.

"She must have laid at least a half dozen by now, and then there is a couple nests under the cow manger and another one under the horse manger. I'm sure there will be several others. If you and Edith want to take care of them you can have the money they bring when we sell them this Fall."

From then on turkeys became the primary priority of Mother and Edith. They made sure that the little poults had the right food. It was my job to take the little kids down to the, lucerne patch and pick fresh leaves to feed them.

Every morning the men would pour the excess separated skim milk into a large, black, number two tub sitting on three big rocks so a fire could be built under it. The milk was left to sour. In the evening we'd make a fire under the tub so the sour milk would turn to curd. Us kids would have to squeeze out the whey and feed the curds to the baby turks.

Soap making was another of their projects. At this time, Dad had a contract to supply the O.K. Market with all the meat sold in their market. This meant that he would have to butcher several animals at least twice a week. Large amounts of animal fat was collected. Mother and Edith would take turns making a tub of soap to store for their Winter laundry needs. They would cook the fat, water, and Iye in the tub on the outside fire. When the soap began to string on a stick the soap was done. It was then left to cool overnight. In the morning the soap was set land they would take a big butcher knife and cut the nice white soap, which had come to the top, into bars. They would then discard the solid waste that had sunk to the bottom of the tub. Home made soap was known as the most efficient laundry soap found.

They also took turns picking the yellow currents which bordered the garden spot which they made into jelly and preseNes. They also picked the white figs down by the slaughter house. These were an especially delicious fig. The cutting for this tree had been brought from some foreign country by Grandpa's brother when he came home from a mission. They were delicious made into preserves or dried.

Another time Dad came into the house to say that if Mother and Edith felt capable he had a good garden spot down in the bottom of the Morris land.

"It's quite a way from the house, but I can get water to it whenever it's necessary since it's on the waste ditch. The land is quite sandy and will be especially good for cucumbers and melons."

The women especially enjoyed this project for it meant a walk to the garden every evening to inspect it. First, they would spray a little fly tox on the kids' faces to keep away the gnats and mosquitoes, and then they armed each of us kids, both big and little, with beer bottles. Then everyone went to the cucumber patch to look for squash bugs. Both the melons and the cucumbers would become infected with these nasty, stinky beetles. Both women were big at promoting contests to see who could fill their bottle the quickest. It was even disappointing to us kids when we couldn't find any. Squash bugs lay their eggs in clusters on the back of the leaves and so they had to be squished. If a vine was badly infested there would be chains of them linked together which had to be picked off and poked down into the bottle.

Mother and Edith even took turns plucking the down from off the geese to make down pillows.

This was, indeed, a busy Summer, but it was also nice to have someone besides the family around, even though I didn't have anyone to play with myself, I was at an age when I was interested in an adult conversation, although Mama usually sent me from the room when anything really interesting was being discussed. Ruby had Edith's kids to play with and Mama and Edith had their crochet and the making of their layettes. There was really nothing for me to do except tease the little kids. I guess I really did keep them crying when I told them if they didn't do as I said old "curly squaw" would get them. Edith heard me threaten them one day and really chewed me out and threatened to tell Mama what I was doing quite often.

Things eventually worked out for me too that Summer. The Andrus' moved to their farm from town. Beth was my best friend. When in town the Andrus' lived over the fence from my Grandmother Miles. Beth and I were practically born together, she on one side of the fence and I on the other and only a few days apart. While we were still real small, Beth's Father christened us the tramps, for as soon as I got to town I usually went to Grandma's, and from then on Beth and I were together and we usually took journeys where no one knew where we were.

That summer I usually volunteered to take the cows to the pasture each morning since the pasture was close to the Andrus' house. I went early and stayed late. The main canal ran in front of their house, so that meant a swim. The canal was the only swimming pool available and when someone was watering and had the canal backed up, it was as good as the real thing.

Beth and I got into lots of mischief that year. What she couldn't think up. I could. We made a play house in the cellar under the Dode house, making furniture for it from old mowing machine seats and cooking our dinner on a play stove made from a five gallon molasses can. We made a raft which we tried to sail on the horse pond, but it managed to sink in the middle of the pond and forced us to wade back to the bank in thigh deep, black muck that was filled with crunchy snails. We hunted bird eggs and rode horses. We made hula skirts out of cat tail reeds. We sewed doll clothes and played bony horse. When we didn't have anything else to do we teased the little kids. Beth had a little sister named Noma whom she usually had to bring with her when she came over. Our favorite sport was to put Ruby and Noma on back of us on the horse and then trot until they screamed and cried and promised they wouldn't beg to go with us again.

On the Fourth of July that year, the Barnum and Bailey Circus came to Cedar City. Since Paul's Mother and brother lived in Cedar and we would have a place to stay, Dad and Paul decided to take us to the circus. Dad decided that it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for us to see a real honest to goodness circus. By juggling activities and water turns we were able to go. We planned to go to Cedar and spend the night with Paul's family and come home after the circus the next day. Dad owned a Chevy turtle back coupe at this time. The rumble seat had been taken out and a pickup truck bed was installed in its place. I can't fathom how it was done -- two men and two pregnant women up front and the little kids in back.

Dad was right, for us this was truly a once in a lifetime circus. We saw sights never even dreamed of. Dad was extremely generous and saw to it that we saw all the side shows as well as the main performance. We saw a cannibal in a cage -- that I hurried past before he had a chance to grab me through the bars of his cage. We saw the tattooed man. He was totally tattooed from his neck to his feet. We watched the sword swallower and the fire eater. Tom Thumb and his charming little bride was my favorite -- he was even littler than Ruby and this really fascinated me because he was so perfect, just like a dressed up doll. We thrilled to the trapeze artists with their spangled tights flying through the air. I had never seen a lion before and I just knew the lion master would probably have his head bitten off when he put his head in the lion's mouth. We saw a woman sawed in half and put back together again. Then there was the half man and half woman who it was rumored was able to be a Mother or a Father of children, whichever was preferred.

Never have eyes beheld anything equal to that marvelous circus. We had hot dogs, root beer, and popcorn and peanuts. This was probably the most exciting day of my life.

The conversations for the following weeks were centered entirely around the circus. There were some snide remarks about the half woman and half man, and I learned a new word --"morphadite. It seemed for an extra two bits an adult person could see with his own eyes the proof positive of what makes a "morphadite".

Come September Frances returned from California and we moved back to town for the Winter. However, we usually went to the farm every Saturday to help with the harvest. November brought turkey picking days. The turkeys were killed and plucked for the Thanksgiving market and Mama and Edith were finally rewarded for their long, summer work.

Christmas came and went and then the most stupendous event that ever occurred in the Seegmiller household happened. The long awaited son and heir finally made his appearance. No one could have been as overjoyed as my parents were.

However, this great joy almost turned to tragedy a few days after his birth. The baby was born at home and Dad's Aunt Ide Seegmiller was the practical nurse who attended Mama. She came every morning to bathe her and the new baby. Aunt Ide was an efficient, no nonsense type of individual. On arriving one morning for her usual chores, she found Mama only half conscious.

Quick thinking caused Ide to remove the new gas heater from the room and quickly call the doctor. The doctor was just leaving on an emergency case to Hurricane.

"Don't bother me," the doctor called back as he went out the door, "I'll call them when I get back."

"But it's Mrs. Seegmiller and she needs you now!"

"Well, why didn't you say so. If it's Aunt Ide it must be important."

Within minutes he was at our door. Mother was the victim of carbon monoxide poisoning from the fumes of the little heater that Dad had bought to make her convalescence more enjoyable. Fortunately, the baby's face had been covered and he was all right, but it took quite a struggle to revive Mama and get her back to normal.

A week later, Edith gave birth to a beautiful little black haired baby girl. Both ladies received the wishes of their hearts. The little girl was named Tana and the boy was name James Ross

As I have already related, Dad killed beef for the market, and so much of his time was spent in the preparations of the animals. He built a big slaughter house which, at that time, was considered very modern. It was built next to the canal enabling him to bring the water in for washing and cleaning. He had a series of pulleys and a series of chutes where the animal could be driven in and shot and bled before a block and tackle lifted it inside the building.

This was always an exciting event for me as a child and I used to go with Dad often and help him. He used to let me help him skin the carcass, and when it was skinned it was my job to lay the hide out flat and pour salt all over it and rub it well into the hide, then fold it up in a roll to be delivered to Joe Foremaster, the hide man, when Dad delivered the meat the next morning.

On the nights Dad had to kill either he or one of the men would quit early and get things started so that the butchering could be completed before dark.

On one particular night, Paul was the one to start the operation. He drove the steer into the first chute and leaned down to open the gate to the chute where it was to be killed. As he reached down to close the gate after the steer had gone in, the gun went off, shooting Paul through the arm. The bullet went clear through his arm shattering the bone. Paul staggered to the house bleeding profusely. Dad was able to get him to the hospital before he bled to death. Everyone thought that he would lose his arm, but good doctoring and lots of prayers saved him. That was a hard Summer for Paul for he was in lots of pain and there was always the fear that his arm might be paralyzed. He was a strong character, however, and he was not only able to save his arm, but regained its use.

Paul and Edith stayed with us for several years. The next summer Paul and Edith moved in the Dode house and again Mama and Edith spent another fruitful Summer together, only this time they had the added job of sewing for their two darling babies. When Paul left us he became the water master for the Washington Field Canal Company, which enabled us to keep our association and friendship with him.

Frances learned to drive a car the Summer before she was fifteen. Dad would let her steer the car on our trips to town and then she spent hours driving over the hill to the gate and back and backing in and out of the shed. So, the Summer before her fifteenth birthday she was a pretty good driver. Driver's licenses were not compulsory then, so learning to drive young was quite an asset on the farm. There were many times that having someone able to drive really saved the day.

This particular Summer, Dad planted about three acres of cantaloupes and watermelons. The crop turned out well and most of them were large and sweet. I don't believe that he thought he would have such a bumper crop and when it came time to harvest them he was too busy doing something else, so he told Frances and I that if we would pick them and load them in the car we could take them to town and sell them and keep the money for ourselves. We were thrilled with the opportunity. It was mighty hot out in the summer sun, but money was money. We really had delusions of grandeur as we picked and hauled the melons on the little turtle back Chevy, and although we thought we could never endure the heat and strain of carrying all those melons, we succeeded in filling the Chevy to the brim. Then away to town. Uncle Ern, the manager of the O.K. Market, had always taken our produce, so we felt that it was only a matter of getting them to town. Uncle Ern looked at our cantaloupes and complimented us on such lovely melons and told us he could give us three cents a piece for them and five cents for the watermelons, and that was the best he could do. We naturally thought that that wasn't very much money and so we decided to take them to the other market, but alas, they would do no better and they wouldn't take the entire load. Back again, we went to the O.K. Market and sold them to Uncle Ern. Our entire load went for just a few dollars. Money in the pocket really made us feel good and we soon forgot how hard we had worked to earn it. A few dollars bought a lot in those days.

Brother Baker was an elderly man who had been a neighbor of Dad's from the time he was a little boy and still lived across the street from Grandpa Seegmiller. Brother Baker's first family was the age of Dad and they had married and left home. After the death of his wife he married again and was raising a second family. His second family was larger than the first and consisted of five boys and a girl. These children were all teenagers and needed the things that other teenagers needed. Brother Baker was not exactly young, being of retirement age, although a Dixie Pioneer retired only when he was carried to the cemetery. Because of his age he didn't have a regular job and was always eager to pick up any kind of employment he could. Whenever Dad needed a little extra help, Brother Baker would come to the farm for a few days or a week to help out. He enjoyed working in the hay and many times during the summer he helped in this capacity. He enjoyed Mother's cooking -- said that working out in the fields made him feel good.

Dinner was over this particular day and the men were still sitting around talking and taking an extra five before it was time to hitch up. Dad always gave the men an hour siesta before they went back to work. Brother Baker was restless and eager to get started, so he was the first one to go to the corral thinking he could be ail hitched up by the time the others were ready.

Now we had one large team by the name of French and Prince. These horses were not Clydesdales, but they were large and had huge feet similar to the Clydesdale. French had gone into the cow corral and was standing against the fence eating hay out of the cow manger. Brother Baker went in after him. Dad had warned Brother Baker not to walk up to French from the rear or startle him because he had a cantankerous disposition and would kick up. Apparently, Brother Baker was thinking of something else or had forgotten that warning, because when he went in after the horse he slapped him on the rear to drive him out of the corner so he could put on the bridle. Up went French's head and out went his hoof, catching Brother Baker at the side of his head and knocking him unconscious across the corral, where he lay until the other men came and found him a few minutes later.

"George, for God's sake, come quick. Brother Baker's been killed!"

Carefully, they carried him to the house where he regained consciousness a few minutes later.

"Now, don't you worry, I'm ail right," he said, "just let me lie here for a few minutes."

Within a short while the excitement had died down and everything seemed to be all right. Brother Baker announced that he was ready to go back to work.

"I've got a lump on my head, but I'm okay and I would like to go back to work. There's lots to be done and you need that extra wagon that I drive. A little bump on the head can't hurt this old man."

"Brother Baker, I don't want you to even think of going to work again today, I think it's best that you go back to town. I haven't time to take you right now, but Frances can. Pa is getting tired, too, and he can go along with you."

Grandpa had been spending the day with us. He came almost every week to trap gophers or other rodents that made holes in the ditch banks.

"Frances, you'll have to go to town right now. I want you to take Brother Baker over to the doctor's office. It won't hurt none to have the doctor look him over and make sure that there's nothing broken. Bette, you had better go along so you can open the gate, you can ride in the back."

Frances, barely being able to see above the dash board, drove the two old men back to town. Grandpa, enjoying the ride, complimented her on her fine driving. She took Brother Baker to the doctor and his examination indicated that there was nothing broken and everything appeared all right.

Several months passed without incident. Then, Brother Baker began to complain of headaches. It wasn't long until he began to be forgefful and do odd things. The doctors couldn't seem to find anything wrong. Brother Baker had a son in Los Angeles that was an M.D. After an x-ray was taken it was discovered that he had a clot on his brain. Operations at that time were out of the question and it was felt that nature would take care of the problem. This didn't happen and Brother Baker died the next Summer.

This was a sorrowful day for Dad. Embalming was not a common practice then. The custom was to cover the corpse with ice packs and for someone to sit up all night with the dead so they could change the ice packs every time the ice melted. Dad was the one that sat the night with Brother Baker. Funerals were never prolonged and so he was buried the next day. He was a nice old man and everyone in the neighborhood felt his loss. Although Dad felt that he had done everything he could for him, he was always remorseful over the tragedy.

It is always exciting to have company when you live on a farm, especially if you are a young girl and don't see too many people. Ruby was only ten and when this elderly man drove up, Ruby was the one to greet him at the door. Mama and Daddy were not in the house, so Ruby really made him feel at home. She got him a drink and offered him cookies and ran to get Mom and Dad.

The man's name was Levi White and he was looking for a job. His home was in Roosevelt where he had owned his own farm. Brother White was not young, probably in his early fifties. His family had encountered some very bad luck and he had had to sell his home and farm.

Mrs. White had developed a very bad heart condition and needed to be in a lower and warmer climate. She had relatives in St. George and so they decided to move there. The White's had also suffered another tragedy. Their only daughter and her husband had been killed, leaving three small children. Brother and Sister White took these children to raise even though they still had a son of their own at home who was in college. Brother White wanted a job for the Winter, but stayed with us for thirty-five years.

Brother White bonded with our family from the very beginning. He later said the greeting Ruby gave him made him really want to work for us. Their youngest grandchild was just Ruby's age. Farming was all Brother White knew and he was certainly glad for the opportunity Dad gave him.

We soon found this man to be as Christian a person as could be found anywhere.

Dad had developed the farm to the place where several men were needed. When Dad found Brother White had the same respect for water that he himself had, Dad put him on permanently. He became the water master of the Seegmiller farm.

Mama loved Brother White from the very first. "Why, he's just like my Father, so kind and gentle. He doesn't swear or cuss like the other men. He never complains and is so neat and clean.

Mother was very religious at heart and longed to be a church goer.

When she found Brother White had been the bishop of a Roosevelt ward for many years, she knew he would be a good influence on the other men, especially Dad.

Brother White moved to the farm, but his wife remained in town to care for the grandchildren. Mama gave up the north bedroom so he could have a room to himself. He stayed at the farm all week, only going to town Saturday evenings so he could go to church, visit with his family, and return to the farm Monday morning.

Mama was a good cook and always had plenty, but if Brother White was ever late for dinner she always took the best pieces of meat and vegetables and set them on the back of the stove to keep warm. She didn't want the other men to leave Brother White the scraps.

As we grew up he became an adopted grandfather to us. I hardly ever saw him in any other attire than rubber watering boots, blue bib overalls, a blue chambray shirt and a big straw hat with a shovel over his shoulder.

During the Summer months he usually brought his grandsons down to stay with him. As they grew older and were able to help, Dad usually found jobs for them. They, too, worked for us until they were grown.

As a substitute grandpa, after Grandpa Miles died, he filled in for the family's religious needs. He talked at Jimmy's funeral, gave blessings, and christened Teddy Sue. The blessing he gave Teddy Sue was so beautiful it affected her entire life, as she tries to live up to that blessing.

Brother White was always the peace maker among the men. Although he didn't push his religion on others, they all respected him for what he stood for. All of the men, especially the young ones, went to him for advice and counsel.

His grandchildren grew up and left home and Sister White died, but he still stayed on. He was probably in his late seventies or early eighties when he quit so he could do some temple work.

Dad was not too church oriented, but he appreciated Brother White's philosophy. His example had a great deal to do with Dad turning back to the church in his later life where he became very active.

The great depression brought many strange people to work for us. Some stayed only a few days to help with a haying season, some lasted a few months and others stayed as long as a year, working in exchange for food and a place to hang their hat. Food was a big item during the depression and we always had plenty of good food. Mother was an excellent cook. We had our own meat and vegetables and plenty of milk, cream, and butter. These items were had to come by for lots of people, especially those from the city.

Employment was almost non-existent. People were hitch-hiking from one end of the country to another trying to find jobs that would enable them to find a place to lie down their heads at night and something to fill their stomachs in the day time. They were all hoping against hope that it wouldn't be long before the country would be back on its feet again.

Hardly a day passed without someone knocking on our door asking for something to eat. I guess we were easy prey for all the hobos in the country. We didn't have money but we always had a sandwich and a glass of milk.

Many of the local families also needed help. Kids from large families were left to their own resources when they got a little older and they were willing to do most anything to get by. It even cost money to go to high school. Students had to pay a fifteen dollar tuition, and fifteen dollars represented a lot of money at that time, especially if there were several children in the family. Besides tuition the student had to buy his own books and supplies. Some of the kids couldn't even go to school for several years after they got out of the eighth grade. Then, in some families, one child would have to take turns with their brothers and sisters in going to school. One member of the family would stay out and work and help the other members go, and the next year they would change around.

Old Jim was an odd sort of a man who had probably lived a wild sort of life when he was young, but had settled down totally. He was very likable and very good to kids and he was super generous. The boys could communicate with him very well. He loved to joke, so they all got along very well. Brother White was the stabilizing influence of the group. The boys always knew that they could get good counsel from him. He was not one to push his religion or himself on anyone, but everyone knew that he could always be counted on if there was a problem.

It was after dark one Winter evening and Frances and I were late in getting the cows milked. Mother and Dad were not home. They had had to go to Cedar City and we didn't know when they would be home.

"Frances, you cut up the pumpkins and citron and I'll feed the hay," I said as I locked the cows heads in the stanchion.

"Okay,'' she replied.

Since Frances had to cut the pumpkins, I was ahead of her with the milking. I had finished my first cow and had poured the milk in the separator before Frances had got started. I was hurrying because I had quite a few lessons and I had a theme due the next day.

Frances was just finishing her second cow when I climbed upon the hay stack to throw down some hay. I saw the man just as I was about to stick the fork in the hay. He was buried down deep in the hay and I almost stuck the fork in him. He was sleeping so soundly that he didn't even hear me. Quickly, I dropped the fork and slid down the stack. I was really frightened and didn't quite know what to do. Here we were home alone and here was a strange man that we knew nothing about. Quietly, so as not to wake him up, I reported my find to Frances who, luckily, had just finished with her second cow. Hurriedly, we ran to the house and locked the door, not even stopping to finish the separating. That would just have to wait until Dad got home. We thought up all sorts of weird happenings as to who and why the man was there. A little time can seem an eternity when you are scared and it seemed like ages before the folks came. Immediately, Dad went to the barn amid cries from Mother to be careful and maybe he should take a gun or something.

A few minutes later Dad came back into the house.

"The poor bastard," Dad said, "he's been walking for several days and hasn't had anything to eat all day. I thought maybe Mother could scare up a sandwich and I'll take it out to him. He says his name is Jim Key and he had walked all the way from Chicago. Seems a nice enough looking chap. He must be in his late twenties. He wants a chance to work for just a place to stay and something to eat, but I guess a man isn't worth much if he isn't worth four bits a day. Anyway, I told him I'd give him a try. He looks husky enough and I've a lot of corrals that need to be cleaned, manure that needs to be spread, and lots of ditches that need cleaning, not to mention some plowing, although I don't know if he could handle that. Abe and Mark are pretty good hand, but they're just buttons and Old Jim Hutchings is getting too old to do much except look after things and help with the chores. I believe this guy might do me some good. Anyway, I'm going to give him a try."

Several weeks later Mother answered the door to a fellow inquiring if a Jim Key was working for us.

"I am a lawyer from Chicago and am on my way to Los Angeles," he said. "I've received quite a few letters from a Mr. Jim Key asking me to represent him in a law suit in which he is trying to regain his inheritance from his Father's partner who is also supposed to be his guardian."

The man reported that he didn't have much time and would try to get in touch with Jim when he returned from L.A.

Mother was quite impressed, and when Jim dropped in at the house the next Saturday morning, she delivered the message. She could hardly believe her ears at the fantastic fairy tale he told her.

"My, Jim certainly has a great imagination," she said. "I don't believe that he can tell the difference between fantasy and reality. He really lived this story he told me of his early childhood. He said his Father was a bandit that had kidnapped his Mother, who was an Indian princess, and held her for ransom, but the two fell in love and ran away and got married. A fortune in natural paint was discovered on the Indian Lands and his parents became wealthy. Jim's Mother died while he was still a small child, leaving a heart broken Father to care for him. In deep despair, the Father left for a trip to Switzerland to climb the Alps, thinking that the trip would help him get over his grief. He left Jim in the care of his friend and partner. Misfortune fell upon his Father, for as he climbed over the ice and snow he fell to his death in a crevasse in the ice. The Father's friend took over the business and fortune, leaving Jim penniless. Jim was now in the process of trying to recoup his fortune and retrieve his inheritance.

"My, what an imagination that poor fellow has." Mother later remarked, "He even believes the story himself. Boy, anyone could sure have a lot of fun with him kidding him along. I believe he'd believe anything anyone told him. He really must have been reading some high adventure stories to concoct a tale like that."

Later in the day Mother said, "Frances, call the farm and see if Dad has left yet."

It so happened that Jim answered the phone and Frances, remembering Mom's previous remark, started the game. "Hello, Darling, is this really you, Jim? Don't you recognize who you are talking to?" She drawled in a very obvious theatrical voice.

"Hello, well yes, your voice does sound familiar."

"Oh, you do remember! This is your Phoebe LaRae. I'm the movie star that you met at a reception in Chicago. Don't you remember?"

"Of course I remember, what are you doing all the way out here?"

"I've come all the way to Utah to see you. I'm staying at the Liberty Hotel and I'm just dying to see you. When can you come to see me?"

"Well, I guess I could come up Saturday. I'm sure George will let me off."

"Oh, that's two whole days away, but I guess I can wait. I can hardly wait to see you. I'll wait for you in the lobby. Be there at seven."

Later that evening, Dad came in rather peevish acting. Looks like Jim has a date Saturday night and I've got to get him to town to buy him a new suit. It's some special girl friend. He says she is a movie star or something, though where he'd meet a movie star is beyond me. He needs a new suit like he needs a hole in the head. It's gonna cost me at least twenty bucks for this date."

"Oh, good heavens, George. It's that darn Frances. She called the farm for you and when Jim answered the phone she kidded him along and pretended to be a movie star he had met. He's so gullible that he swallowed it all."

"Well, he's certainly taking it all to heart all right. I don't know if I've the heart to tell him he's being made a fool of. He said he couldn't wait for me to meet this lady and that they have been in love for years."

Jim was not too popular with the other men, especially old Jim. When the other guys at the farm found out about the practical joke they joined in and really run it to the ground. Dad had told Frances to cut it out and not to talk to him again. The other guys took it from there.

Saturday night at seven found Jim at the desk of the Liberty Hotel, only to be told that Phoebe had gone back to Denver for a few days and that she would be back the next Wednesday for the date. Next Wednesday Jim found that she had gone to Salt Lake City for a personal appearance, but would be back again on Saturday. From there she went to Washington to tend children for a special friend, then she changed addresses to some place on Diagonal that couldn't be located. Each time he went to the hotel he found a letter of endearment waiting for him asking him for yet another date. Of course, these letters were written by the guys at the farm and passed on to Jim by a friend who worked at the hotel. He went from one rendezvous to another, only to be told that she had gone back to Hollywood and that she would meet him in Los Angeles.

Between letters from Phoebe and trying to track down the lawyer from Chicago, poor frustrated Jim decided to leave the farm and go to Los Angeles, which was Phoebe's current abode.

A week after he left, a package arrived in the mail addressed to Mrs. Seegmiller and girls. In it we found a bouquet of waxed crepe paper roses and a note telling us goody-bye and thanks, and signed, Jim. That was the last we ever heard of Jim Key. Consequently, we never really found out if he was able to recoup his fortune or marry the elusive Phoebe LaRae.

Abe Stocks and Mark Hopkins were two young kids who came to work for Dad during the depression. Both boys were around sixteen years old and needed a place to stay. Abe was a good mechanic even at this early age, and there wasn't anyone stronger in the country than Mark Hopkins. Abe had rigged up an old car for transportation and they lived on the farm. They were young, but Dad felt that with Brother White and another older man by the name of Jim Hutchings living there also, they would be well looked after.

Abe was on his own at sixteen. His family was not too affluent and there were six other children to feed and clothe. His Father had poor health and left his Mother to care for the family, which she did by cleaning house for others and by taking in washing and ironing. Abe was smart but wasn't able to finish high school.

Dad was good with boys. He might not have been very churchy, but he was very moral and had good principles. He always gave the boys good counsel and they were not afraid to go to him with their problems. (Abe later told me that without Dad and his counsel, he might have really gone astray. He also told me that he acted as our watch dog. Every time Frances and I went down alone to cook dinner for the men, if Dad couldn't be close around the house, he would send Abby, as Dad called him, to do some job close by and act as our protector.)

Mark was also from a large family. He was a big kid, not too fat, just big. Mark was sort of a misfit, not too smart in some things, but strong as a bull ox. Mark loved to eat. His appetite was enormous. It was a joke around the house at how much food he could really put away and how he swallowed it whole. We always passed the plate last to Mark for he just scraped the entire plate onto his.

Mark was also afflicted with what we called spells. Mother always said that he just over ate. He would just pass out. One evening as he was leaving the table, he had a spell and fell full length across the table, breaking off the side and all the dishes fell to the floor and smashed. He tipped over the kerosene lamp breaking the chimney, but luckily it was retrieved before it started a fire.

He soon recovered and went to bed and was all right the next morning.

Mark and Abe got along well. They had been friends and neighbors all their lives.

It seemed to me that there was always a Hall working for us as long as I can remember. Sometimes there was only one, but mostly there were four, especially during the busy season of haying and cutting grain and beets.

I really didn't know their ages -- when you are young anyone five years older is quite old. Preston was probably 14 or 15 years old and was the youngest. Ken was probably in his early twenties, and Elmer and Leland closer to thirty.

Preston and Leland, youngest and oldest, were long and lean. Preston was shy and hardly ever said a word, while Leland talked a lot and knew most everything about everything. Preston and Leland were tall and had pleasant, good natured buck toothed grins and receding chins. All the Halls had sorta sandy complexions. Elmer and Ken were of a slighter build. Elmer was really shy, seldom saying anything at the table and hardly daring to ask someone to pass the salt. He seemed to me to be an average sort of guy with an ordinary looking face. Ken, however, was quite good looking. He talked a lot and in the proper setting could have been quite a ladies man. They always sat on a bench at the table with their backs to the screen window.

Brother White was the only other man working for us when the Halls were there.

The screen room where we ate dinner usually had a cool breeze blowing through from the open kitchen door, and Mother was careful to keep the flies out. The big table fit the room on three sides with benches for the men. This room faced the road and if a wagon happened to pass while we were eating, Dad would always holler out to invite whomever was driving by to come in and have dinner.

"Better come in and have a little dinner. It'll take you a long time to get to town and your missus will have already eaten."

One Tuesday morning, when we were getting ready to leave for the farm, Ruby begged to stay in town so she could go to 4-H club. Ruby was only about ten and Mama didn't know if she could trust her to stay alone all day, but she finally consented. At about ten o'clock Dad called Ruby on the phone.

"Ruby, Elmer is on his way to town with a load of hay for the barn. He'll have to have some dinner. Do you think you can scare something up to eat? I'm sure Mother has something in the fridge. Now, don't let him get away without his dinner. He's so damn shy he won't come in unless you tell him as soon as he gets there. Do you think you can do it?"

Of course, Ruby was more than happy to prove herself to Dad and said she'd try.

Around one o'clock Dad found that he had to go to town, too, and decided to stop by the house to see how things were going.

There sat Ruby and Elmer at the table. Ruby had wanted to impress Dad with her cooking abilities, so she had opened about every can in the house - canned salmon, canned beans, and potatoes. She had tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions. She had made Jello and whipped the cream herself. It was probably one of the best meals he had ever had.

When Dad got back to the farm Mother asked, "How did Ruby do? Did she fix anything?"

"Did she fix anything?! Why, when I walked in they looked like a couple honeymooners. You never saw such a meal!"

That was all I needed. I loved to tease and Ruby was the perfect victim. All I had to do was open my mouth and Ruby would start to scream. I called Ruby a child bride until she wouldn't risk going in the same room with Old Elmer.

I was in high school when Ken broke his hip. That was the year that he took care of our turkeys since it wasn't such strenuous work and he could work with crutches.

Leland and his brothers opened a feed store after they left us, and became very successful in their business.

Ken, however, kinda went on his own. He had a little shack down in the fields. Ken did a bit of drinking and visited the bars quite often. Ken was a caring and sharing kind of person. In a bar one night Ken met a fella who seemed to be really down on his luck. He said he was down to his last penny and didn't even have a place to stay that night. Ken, himself, had been in those circumstances, and since he was an empathetic person, invited the fella to spend the night at his shack. After supper this fella took Ken's gun and shot and killed him, then stole what little bit of money he had.

During the great depression, the people of Southern Utah managed to survive because Southern Utah was a farming community. Most people were able to eat even though they had absolutely no money. President Roosevelt created many work projects, and those who didn't have a farm, a government job, or their own business were able to survive through the W.P.A. Many of the young men joined the C.C.C. (Civilian Conservation Corp.) and lived in one of the many camps around the area. The Utah State Agriculture decided on a project that profited the entire state. They thought that if they could produce a drought and disease resistant strain of sugar beet seed it would boost the economies not only of the people growing the seed, but also decrease the risk of blighted plants in the north. Much of the seed produced in other places were weak and produced weak plants.

The college sent several professors to St. George to see what could be done. Because our growing season is much longer here and the Summer much drier and hotter, they felt any seed that survived would produce a much stronger, healthier plant.

Now, Grandpa Seegmiller had always been a progressive farmer and was an avid disciple of the agriculture college and its findings. He read all their pamphlets and brochures they sent out so he could learn new methods and more up to date ways of doing things. Although Grandpa had been retired for many years, he still kept the best manicured lot in town. Weeds and insects simply would not dare invade his domain. When Walter Smith, who was now the Washington County Agriculture Co-agent, brought these gentlemen over to his house to ask his help with the project, Grandpa was highly enthusiastic. He agreed to plant one row of seed each month in his garden. He tended the plants until they went to seed to see which month produced the heaviest seed. Grandpa babied these plants for a whole year. The ones planted in the Spring fell prey to the bugs. The ones planted in the Summer withered by the heat and couldn't produce before frost. The Fall planting seemed best. Now it remained to be determined which month would work out best. For this experiment, larger plots were needed, so they came to the farm for Dad's help.

Dad agreed to plant several test plots of about three acres each. September seemed to make the best crop. The stalks were heavy with large seed and were harvested in July, giving the farmer time to replow his land for Fall planting.

The seed procured in the experiment was planted in the north. The Dixie seed produced bigger and more disease resistant sugar beets than any previously planted.

The Utah and Idaho Sugar Company was very impressed with the results of the experiment. They wanted to contract the seed for their sugar beet farmers in the north. The return these seeds brought seemed fantastic to the farmers. The seed brought more than they had received from any other crop. Having a real cash crop was certainly a boom to the people in this area.

The Utah and Idaho Sugar Company allotted to any interested farmer throughout Washington County a certain amount of acreage depending on the size and condition of the land. They contracted to buy the seed raised on the allotted acreage for a certain price. The seed had to be grown under the supervision of the company. The farmer had to put out a certain amount of fertilizer. The plot had to be Summer plowed and kept free from weeds.

The company tried to be fair and saw to it that each farmer got his fair share of the acreage so that all the farmers benefited from the cash crop.

Harvesting the seed presented quite a problem. The test plots had been harvested with a scythe, but that was hardly adequate for more than several rows. However, necessity is the Mother of invention, and a way was found. By taking a horse-drawn hay mowing machine and putting an apron on the side of the cutting bar, the seed fell on the apron, and a man on each side would grab the plants as they fell and carry the arm load of about thirty pounds and stack them into a shack to dry.

It took about two weeks to dry. Then, the shacks were loaded on a slip and hauled to the thresher. The seed was put into large gunny sacks and hauled to the sugar beet plant to be tested for germination.

Harvesting sugar beet seed was not only a benefit to the farmers, but furnished many jobs. The young men in the community who were strong enough to glom beets were able to earn their school tuitions or to buy a first car. Glomming beets was not an easy job. Each stalk weighed over thirty pounds and only a strong person was able to do this. They not only had to be strong, but an early bird as well. The seed had to be cut and shocked while the dew was still on the plant and it was still cool. First, it would have been too hot for the men to work long hours in the heat, and secondly the seeds would fall off when it was too dry.

The usual hour to start work was 3:00 a.m. the men worked until 8:00 a.m. when they had a break and lunch, then they worked until noon. Dad usually had treats of some kind for their breaks, usually ice tea or melons. On the last day, Mama made a big freezer of homemade ice cream. No one could surpass or even equal Mama's ice cream.

Our farm was one of the largest farms in the Washington Fields, and so we usually had a reasonably large acreage. Practically every young man in town eventually appeared at our door to apply for a job.

Most of these young men were good looking and popular. Most of them were much older than 1, but it was exciting to have them all be extra nice to me -- some even went so far as to dance with me at the Saturday night dances, and I looked with envy at the girls I knew they dated.

Beet glomming was a lot of hard work for the whole family, and getting up in the middle of the night was especially hard, but it was still thrilling to have the "older boys" call me by name and stop to visit with me when we met and then we met lots of new people. So, I guess it was worth it.

Raising sugar beet seed could be as full of heart break as it was rewarding. There was a time when a freak giant hailstorm struck in June when the beets were in blossom, and it stripped both leaves and blossoms from the plants. New blossoms came on the plant again, but the seeds were sparse and had a very low germination count. That year the crop didn't even pay for the fertilizer and sacks.

Then there was the time of the chink bug invasion. In the early morning we found the heads of the stalks covered with little black stinky beetles. The only way to kill the bugs was to walk down the row and shake each head making the bugs fall into a pan of kerosene mixed with water. Even little kids could help with this. Every morning at four found the entire family and the hired men gathering chink bugs. We killed pounds and pounds of these nasty, evil smelling little bugs. The bugs would light on the heads of the stalks every night and suck the sap from the seed heads, and as soon as the sun came up they would fly away. That year only a portion of the seeds survived.

Then there was the years when, at the most crucial time of development, the plants suddenly turned yellow and began to wilt. An analysis showed the plants lacked certain minerals. This was when a commercial ammonium sulfate was introduced. Because the plants were so big it was impossible to drive down a row with a horse-drawn fertilizer. The fertilizer was put in buckets and spread by hand down the rows followed by a small stream of water to soak it into the ground. Once again, we kids had to help spread fertilizer. The crop was saved, but once again, it was not as abundant as it should have been.

All the accumulated bills of the year depended on the outcome of the beet seed crop. It was a sorry day, indeed, when there was a catastrophe. More than once Dad would take the entire beet check to the bank and arrange for another loan to start over again.

"What the hell we got coming?" Dad exclaimed as he looked up from the handle he was fitting into a shovel.

Four wheels, a windshield, and a steering wheel was headed straight for him. A young man with a big nose and horn-rimmed glasses, an exact replica of the cartoon character Alex Smart, was at the wheel and another young man sat beside him on what appeared to be a plain board seat. It looked like a run away from the soap box derby. The vehicle came to a roaring halt and the lengthy young man pulled his long legs up and slid to the ground. There was no door on either side, so it wasn't hard to climb out. The other young fellow slid out the other side.

"Good afternoon, Sir," the driver said politely. "My name is Ivor Bjork and my friend, Clytus Castro. However, we are called Sleep and Ike. We've just come from Salt Lake, we're broke, and we're looking for work. We were told in town that you might be looking for two strong young fellows."

"Good, Lord, you didn't come all the way from Salt Lake in that soap box, did you?"

"We sure did. She runs like a charm and we get good mileage, too."

"Well, I'll be go to hell. I've seen everything now. It's kinda early to be starting much, but I'm gonna need some help in about a month."

"Isn't there something we could do 'til then? You see, we're broke and haven't a place to stay. We were told in town that you might have a place where we could stay, too.

"I dunno, I really haven't started my Spring work."

The boys looked so crestfallen that Dad said, "Well I guess I've always got corrals that need cleaning out and manure to be hauled, and there's always ditch banks to be weeded. I guess if you are interested you can take your things up to the house. Brother White is the only one here just now and he has the north room. There's beds on the screen porch. You'll have to batch it. Ma doesn't move down 'til after school lets out."

Sleep and Ike, as they were called, had finished high school and wanted to see the country, so they whipped up what was supposed to be a car and took off. Dad liked them immediately. They were willing to try anything and quick to learn, and really took an interest in farm work.

Both Sleep and Ike were people people. They soon became acquainted with a lot of the town folks. During the school year there was a dance every Friday, and dances were Sleep's bag. They would come to town in the old soap box fresh air taxi and go back to the farm after the dance in spite of the cold Spring air.

Ike had been a carpenter's helper and thought he could finish the basement o our house in town. Because we spent so much time on the farm, Dad had never gotten around to putting in the furnace and partition off the other rooms. Ike made a furnace room, a fruit room, a small bath, and a bedroom. The extra bedroom made it possible for the men to be able to spend the night at our place when they came to town.

The boys liked St. George and they seemed to fit in and become part of the community. Sleep loved to dance, and because he had learned all the latest dance steps in the big city, he became very popular with the girls. Sleep was just a year older than Frances, my sister, and since she was a good dancer too, they made a very good dance team. I was just beginning the dance craze and I was awfully grateful to both of them for dancing with me and seeing that I didn't have to sit out too often.

About 6:00 a.m. one Saturday morning, not too long after they had arrived here, we were just getting up to milk and the boys came in the house.

"Good hell, you guys just getting in? I thought you went down last night." (One would never think it, but Dad was very moralistic and he felt responsible for his boys.) He always looked after the young people that worked for him. He was real surprised to find them coming home just at day light.

"Oh, we went down all right, at least we started down. When we got to the bridge we found everyone going out to the oil field. If you haven't heard, the oil well blew up last night and half the people there were killed or hurt real bad. Ray Nelson, your neighbor, was on of those killed."

"Ray! My God, what happened?"

"They were supposed to bring in a gusher well last night, but the nitro didn't go down the hole like it was supposed to. Something went wrong with the charge and the whole rig blew up. Joe Empey and his son-in-law were supposed to set it off. They were both killed. After the dance the whole town went out there. We've been there all night helping to find the bodies or parts of bodies. It really is a mess. So far, they've found Mr. and Mrs. Alsop, Mrs. Joe Snow, Leah Cottam, Ray Nelson, Billy Maloney, Bill Miller's sister and husband. There were several hurt real bad. I think Rosemond Snow had her eyes blown out, or at least they don't know if she'll ever see again or not. They were just waiting until morning to finish cleaning up. They're not sure just how many people were out there."

Ray Nelson was Mama's cousin's boy and our next door neighbor. The family owned the O.K. Market, and Ray was their delivery boy. Ray was everybody's favorite person. He had access to every back door in town. Things were different then, no one locked their doors and Ray delivered groceries and left them on the kitchen table whether the person was home or not. He was such a friendly, good natured kid that everyone loved. We were all thrilled when he got engaged just a few weeks back, and now he was gone. What a loss to the whole town.

Naomi Empey had been in my school class since first grade. She married a handsome fellow from Salt Lake that had been in the C.C.C. camp when she was only sixteen. He, along with Naomi's Father, was dead. My grandmother's lifelong friend had gone with her daughter, who was Mr. Alsop's secretary, to see the well come in. She also was killed. Then, there was Mr. And Mrs. Alsop, the owners, who left three children alone, Leah Cottam, another secretary, and several more.

Our town was soon enveloped m the blackest tragedy the town had ever known, even including wars. St. George became headline news throughout the entire country. People called from around the entire U.S. to see if their families were involved. Of course, we didn't have T.V., yet reporters from both radio and newspaper crowded the town.

The school gym was the only building in town big enough to accommodate the nine caskets lined up. Just about everyone in town was a mourner, being either a relative or a personal friend. The town never did get back to normal after that.

The hole at the well was closed and our chances for oil in our area was gone forever:

(Ike stayed the rest of the winter and wummer, but left in the Fall to drive truck. Sleep decided to stay and attend Dixie College in the Fall. He moved to town and slept in our basement. He helped with the chores and helped at the farm on weekends. Sleep became more like a brother than a hired man.

There was a student body dance every Friday in the college gym. Everyone got in ion their activity cards, so there was always a large crowd. Sleep was considered the best dancer in school. When he tromped around the floor it sounded like a herd of horses and he almost caved in the ceiling. Sleep studied accounting in school, so he helped Dad set up a bookkeeping system.

Sleep didn't get along too well with his own Dad and sorta adopted Dad as his own

That January, a measles epidemic hit St. George. Everyone that hadn't already had measles contracted it. Less than half the students were in school. Frances came down with the measles first, I followed a few days later, then we gave it to Ruby and Jimmy. We were all terribly sick and all ended up with strep throats. Antibiotics hadn't been discovered yet. To get pneumonia on top of a strep throat was almost always sure death.

The three of us girls pulled out of it, but not Jimmy. Our only little brother, the pride and joy of the whole family, succumbed to this dreadful disease.

This devastating blow nearly put Mama and Dad under, too. After waiting all those years for such a perfect little boy, only to have such a dreadful thing happen was unbelievable. We just couldn't understand it -- he had always been so healthy. Six years was just not enough time to have him. We girls all felt guilty that it was Jim that had to die instead of one of us.

A very beautiful little funeral was conducted for him in Grandpa Seegmiller's living room. Frances, Ruby, and I were still in bed with strep throat and couldn't attend the services. The whole town mourned for Mama and Dad. All their friends knew the dreams Dad had for Jim, and to have them burst like a bubble just didn't seem right. Everyone was so kind and helpful, but that didn't seem to help Mama and Dad.

There developed a depression in our home that couldn't be lifted. It was terrible to witness the deep grief that my parents felt. Mama could not express her feelings openly. She went around unsmiling and did her work like a robot. When anyone mentioned anything about Jim, Mama would say, "Don't talk about him. I can't even say his name because it hurts too much."

Dad would sit around staring into space. Frequently, he would give a sigh and say, "Oh, God, why did it have to happen to him? What's the point in improving the farm? No one else will care."

The bottom drawer or our kitchen cupboard was where Jimmy kept his treasures. There was a pocket knife, a harmonica, kite string, wooden pistols, and a bottle full of marbles. He had a little box where he kept his money with a few nickels and dimes and all the other paraphernalia that little boys hoard. Mama wouldn't even allow us to open the drawer for months.

Around Easter, Mama announced that she was making one more try for the son they both felt was so important.

Mama had turned forty-two last January, and it had been over six years since she had had a baby. As one gets older, pregnancies get harder. This was certainly true with Mama. For the first time in my life, I came home from my 11:00 o'clock class to find a cold house, dirty dishes on the table, and no dinner ready. With Mama in bed she couldn't do anything except cry quietly to herself. Things were so drab around the place I wondered if it were worth it for her to have another baby.

Usually, the day school let out we moved to the farm. This year, however, she decided that she wouldn't move down for the summer, but she would let Frances and me take turns going each morning with Dad to clean the house, was,h the left over dishes, and cook for the men.

Sleep left to go back to Salt Lake when school was out, but there was always someone to take his place.

That June, Mama went to Payson to spend a couple of weeks with Aunt Edith, Mama's oldest sister. Frances sang in the winning MIA chorus, so she went to June conference in Salt Lake.

This left me to do the housekeeping, both the house in town and the farm chores as well.

This was the time I learned to bottle fruit. In 4-H we learned a new way to bottle fruit by cooking it in the oven. We had only a wood burning stove and I guess I didn't keep the temperature constant, because when Mama got back we had to do it all over again. Not one of the lids sealed.

It was also my first experience at killing and dressing a chicken. Whenever Mother wanted a chicken for dinner, Dad would chop off its head and hang it on the clothesline to drain. Then Mama would take a bucket of boiling water, dip the chicken into the boiling water to loosen the feathers, pluck it, singe it with a rolled up paper that was lit on one end with a match, and then draw the insides, and if she was going to fry it she just cut it up. It all seemed simple enough. I had watched and helped her a million times.

Well, this particular day we had some unexpected company, one of dad's cousins and his family from Las Vegas. Big hearted Dad invited them to dinner.

"I guess you can handle that, can't you Bette? You can go up to Pa's and get some vegetables and I'll kill a chicken before I leave. I had just turned sixteen, and sixteen year olds can handle anything.

"Of course, we'll have mashed potatoes and gravy, and I'll fry the chicken. It won't be a problem."

There was only one problem. Dad forgot to kill the chicken. Of course, there was no one around to do it for me. I went out in the coup and caught a nice fat hen, but when it came to cutting its head off I just didn't have the stomach for it. Ruby, my ten year old sister, offered to do it for me if I would pay her a nickel, so quickly I got the ax for her. I couldn't stand to watch, but stayed there to take care of it when she finished. I already had my bucket of boiling water.

"Wham!" no one ever heard such a racket before.

Ruby was too little to hold the chicken's head on the chopping block. She didn't aim the ax straight so she just cut part of the head and the neck off. The chicken flapped its wings and squawked and spurted blood everywhere. There was nothing left for me to do but take the ax and finish the job. It took all the guts I had to hold that poor flopping animal down with one hand and chop with the other.

I hung it upside down on the clothesline for a while and then I dunked it in the boiling water and picked off the feathers. I had watched Mama do it plenty of times. I just didn't realize that there were certain places where you cut and you could do it easily. When it came to cutting the joints apart I had to use the saw.

Dad seemed quite pleased with my dinner and the relations bragged up the fried chicken. It wasn't very appetizing to me and I only toyed with my food.

I was quite faithful in my duties, but I was plenty glad when Mother came home. I guess you never miss the water until the well runs dry.

I never realized before just how many things a Mother is confronted with. Dad was great and made me feel that I was really doing a good job.

The Summer was a busy one and I was glad when school started in the Fall.

"Maude, you ought to see the cowboy Frank sent me today. I'll be go to hell if I can tell where he picks up some of these guys. Frank only needs them for a day or two and then they're right over here looking for something else to do. But then when a guy's willing to work for board and little else, I guess I'm not too far behind. I swear this guy is six four. He stands tall too, only trouble is one of his legs is shriveled and is a little shorter than the other. He sorta emphasizes this by tucking his Levis into high lace boots and he wears a big, tall, ten gallon Texas hat. He's not ugly but he sure in hell is an old looking duck. He came whooping up to the gate this morning on a skinny bronc and let out a howl that could be heard clear up to Washington. He had a bed roll and a saddle bag filled with them wild west magazines. His hat seems to be some kinda symbol, 'cause when he was telling me about himself and his sojourn in Texas, he always manages to say, 'That was when this old hat was new.' Anyway, I told him he could stay for a while.

"He seems polite enough, but I hope Old Jim and the others don't get too upset over his weird actions. He says he comes from the Red River Valley and would like to stay for at least a couple months. His horse is pretty poor and he'd like to feed it up some."

Tom Mix, our new man, didn't resemble the movie star Tom Mix, but in his mind I'm sure he played as fantastic roles.

School had been started for a couple weeks and we had moved back to town for the Winter. However, there were still chores on the farm to be taken care of, so we spent our Saturdays and lots of nights after school back on the farm.

Jimmy's paint horse had been broke, but he wasn't too reliable and Dad wasn't sure he could trust me to drive a cow to town by myself.

"Bette, you'll have to help Tom drive those two milk cows to town. His bronc can trail pretty well by now, but it will take both of you. You'll have to watch Paint and don't pull up too hard or he's apt to rare over. He dumped Sleep clear off before he left. I want to leave him in town for a while and feed him some grain. Damn, it's hard for me to look at Jim's horse and know Jim's gone. I'm afraid I'm going to have to sell him." With these comforting words we left for town. Paint was a hard ridin', big horse. He was beautiful though, the red spots were so artistically mixed with the white. He was not too well broke, let alone well trained, so every time I pulled up on him and he started acting up, I about had a heart attack.

The sun was getting pretty low when we reached the river. The entire dugway was shaded and it was starting to get chilly. I was unsure of my horse and I didn't know Tom too well, so I was rather nervous. Somewhere across the river a coyote howled.

That was all Tom needed.

"Hear that?" he said. "That sounds just like it did down in Texas," and fingering his had added, "when this old hat was new! You know," he continued, "we had some pretty bad desperadoes down by the Rio Grande, and it seems that no one was able to do much about them. These renegades began to run the ranchers off their land, and more and more cattle disappeared. The sheriff either couldn't or was afraid to do anything about it. That's when the Lone Wolf stepped in.

"One morning the outlaws found an ultimatum pinned with an arrow to the door of their shack. At first they didn't comply and simply ignored the message. One by one the outlaws turned up missing and their dead bodies would turn up on the doorstep of their shack. And whenever this happened, the cry of the Lone Wolf could be heard throughout the valley. This happened so frequently that soon the outlaws became afraid and left the country. About this time I decided that I had better be getting along before they found out who the Lone Wolf really was. Oh, that was back when this old hat was new."

Being a ranch romance fan myself, I was really intrigued by his stories and I egged him on and on as I learned about the further adventures of the Lone Wolf.

Tom only stayed for a few months, and then he gathered up his few possessions and straddled the old bronc and was gone. Where this great crusader went after he left us we never knew, but I'm sure he had a lot more fantasy adventures before that old hat finally wore out.

"Guess what?" I excitedly asked my best friend and cousin.

"Well, what?"

"I'm going to go to Salt Lake next Saturday and stay for a whole week, or maybe even ten days."

"How come?"

"Well, I'm going up to see Frances and Mack. Mack is going to Henegar's Business College and has a little apartment right down town. Frances gets kinda lonesome, her being pregnant and ail. Mama thinks it will do her good to see someone from home."

"Who are you going up with?"

"You know that darling Dr. Paulson from the A.C., and Dr. Owens that comes down to check the beet seed? Well, Dad said that Dr. Owens said he would be glad to give me a ride and that it would be no trouble at all. He will go right by their apartment. Their apartment is just across the street from the post office and that's right on the way to Logan. I know Dr. Owens lots better than Dr. Paulson, but Dr. Paulson is so good looking and he isn't married either. I'll have a good time just looking at him all the way up."

"Ya, he sure is good looking. I've seen him up to Grandpa's. But how are you going to get home?"

"Well, Mama and Dad's friends, the Hewlett's, are going to visit up to Brigham City and he told Dad he'd bring me back. I guess it will depend on how long they stay. I sure hope they stay longer than a week.

The Coconut Grove Ballroom is just down the street a block and a big name band plays there every night. Melba is going to Salt Lake next week and she said she would come and pick me up and we would go together. Her boyfriend is at Camp William for guard and is going to meet her there if he can get off, and she doesn't want to go to the dance alone. Frances and Mack might go, too. Frances isn't showing yet but she feels real icky.

"How come you're going to get to go "'

"Well, there is a catch to it. Dad said if I could go to Salt lake, if I'd be willing to go to the farm every day and cook for the men. Mama doesn't feel like going down this Summer, nursing the new baby and all. I'll have to go down every morning, do up the work, and cook dinner for the men, then clean up the mess. There'll probably only be a couple hands since Sleepy went home. Of course, we'll be home every night."

"The trip to Salt Lake sounds like fun, but I don't envy you cooking for a whole Summer, but I sure wish I were going with you."

The trip to Salt Lake was one I'll never forget. Dr. Owens only had a small car. Dr. Owens and Dr. Paulson sat in the front seat and discussed their business, and I sat in the back seat amid numerous boxes, books, pamphlets, and other trivia connected with their job. Occasionally, they would direct a general question about the weather, the new baby, or something of the sort, and then go on talking about their business. I was a shy person and didn't know them well enough to be really friendly and have something in common to talk about.

It took us until about 1:30 to get to Nephi. We stopped at the big new Forest Hotel for lunch.

"Well, Bette, are you as starving as we are?" Dr. Owen asked.

I was suddenly filled with apprehension. What was I to do? I had never been faced with a like situation before. I had never thought about lunch. Whenever we traveled we always took our own lunch with us. Now to be going to a big hotel with two men! I was always taught to pay my own way and I didn't know whether to offer to pay for my lunch or to let them.

"Well, I'm not very hungry," I said.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll have something to whet your appetite here," he said.

So, in I went to the dining room.

Then came the most embarrassing moment of all. I had never ordered from a menu before in my life, and I simply didn't know how. I stared at the menu. The only thing I saw was the price list. There wasn't anything below three or four dollars. Although Dad had given me twenty dollars for the trip, I didn't want to spend it all in one place. I didn't realize that government employees always had an expense account. I was afraid if I offered to pay it would embarrass them, so I finally decided I'd just go along and say nothing and let them think I was a cheap skate.

"My, cold roast duck looks good, I guess I'll have that."

"Yuck," I thought, "cold roast duck, how horrible, I hate duck of any kind."

"Well, that sounds good to me, too," said Dr. Paulson.

"Well, Bette, have you made up your mind what you would like?"

Since I didn't have the slightest idea how to order anything else, I merely replied, "I guess I'll have the same."

My Salt Lake trip was exciting. The first morning there I stuck my head out the window, and who was also looking out the window in the floor below but Sleepy and his new bride. Sleepy had been sorta like a brother to me while he lived with us and it was really great to see him again.

We didn't have much money, but window shopping when Mack got home was really lots of fun. We would look in the windows of swanky shoe shoppes and wonder who on earth would have enough money to pay fifteen dollars for a pair of shoes.

The roller skating rink was only a few doors down and we heard all the latest tunes from big name bands at the Coconut Grove. We shopped at Woolworth's and I had a fresh tulip sundae for fifteen cents. I had never tried fresh strawberries on ice cream before. I spent most of my money on presents at Woolworth's to take home. This was my first trip to Salt Lake since I was ten years old.

I wasn't nearly ready to go home when the Hewlett's called to say they would pick me up Sunday morning. The Hewlett's must have been really special friends to bring me home. They had a little one-seated coupe, and how we all fit in was beyond me. Hazel was pregnant and they also had a little girl and me. The Hewlett's were real neat people. I on was a real kick, so it was fun all the way home even if it was a tight squeeze.

We got home late Sunday night and I wasn't exactly thrilled to have go get up early.

"Well, the dancer has to pay the fiddler," said Dad. "Better climb out."

Grudgingly I pulled myself together and started to get things together.

"Oh, you better make sure you've got enough supplies. I hired a couple new hands while you were gone. Do you think you can handle it? They seem like nice enough fellers. They were working for Evan Woodbury, but one of them got a little sweet on Virginia and Evan fired them. Someone sent them over to me and I decided to give them a chance. They are city guys, been working for Penny store and got tired and decided to come to Southern Utah. They're interested in archeology and spend their free time looking for Indian ruins. I believe they're going to make pretty good hands, though. You'd never believe it from the costumes they wear."

I was a bit curious about the new hired men, but I wasn't really prepared for what walked into the kitchen. These guys were real Greek Gods. Their bodies were burnt to a deep bronze and the sweat made their muscles stand out in ripples. They were naked except for a pair of cut-off Levis, cut extra short, a pair of riding boots, and a sun helmet. Their sun blackened skin made their teeth seem extra white. Don Crabtree had yellow, sun bleached hair and a very Roman nose with black eyes, and he was tall and very slender. Floyd Bird was just as good looking with laughing eyes, brown curly hair, and a little heavier build. Here I was to cook for these handsome Greek Gods. Of course, I fell in love immediately as any moon struck seventeen year old would. The only problem was I couldn't decide which one I liked the best. You can bet your bottom dollar that Dad didn't have to wait for me to get ready to go to the farm each morning, and I was even afraid that he might go without me.

There was always a Saturday night dance during the Summer in St. George. Everyone in town looked forward to these dances and everyone, both old and young, went. Hardly anyone had dates. Practically everyone, except the marrieds, went stag. The dance cost fifty cents for males and females got in free. Everyone was welcome, that is everyone that could pass the inspection of the recreation committee, which consisted of five of the community leaders whose duty it was to see that there was no smoking, drinking, or carrying on of any kind on the dance floor, and that no one was immodestly dressed.

Both of our new hired men liked to dance. Since they stayed at our house in town on Saturday, and since everyone walked to and from the dance (there was hardly anyone with cars), and our house was only four blocks from the open air pavilion, it was only natural that we would walk together most of the time.

The dance let out at exactly 12:00 o'clock and no one was allowed to dance on the Sabbath.

Twelve o'clock didn't seem too late and we'd sit on the front porch and talk things over, who was there, what they wore, who we danced with, etc., and sometimes raiding the ice box for the pitchers of ice tea Mama always kept there.

Dad soon caught on that I had a case on the boys and he always found some reason to be on hand if either of them were working close to the house, for he knew I'd forget what I was doing and be out talking and keeping them from their work, or they might keep me from mine, and he didn't want me to bother them, which I probably did.

That was a fun Summer, full of anticipation and excitement. The only thing bad about it was that it didn't last long enough.

Floyd left first. His Dad called to ask him to come home so he could work for a mining company. I well remember the night before Floyd left. The night was really warm and we walked home from the dance together. On the way home we stopped off at the old grand stand and sat and talked about the past summer, and probably did a little necking. He said it was one of the best summers he had ever spent and hoped to come back again. When we got home it was so warm in the house that everyone in the family got a quilt and pillow and spread it out on the porch to sleep where it was a bit cooler. Of course, Mama and Dad were there too, but I put my quilt next to Floyd and we held hands until we went to sleep. He left the next morning.

After Floyd left, Don and I became really good friends and he was the one to squire me to the dances. About a month after Floyd left, Don fell off a horse and hurt his leg and decided to go home.

Both Don and Floyd spent a lot of time hunting for Indian artifacts and studying the petroglyphs. Maybe the country around St. George inspired Don to further his study in archeology. He became quite famous when he found a skeleton of a three-toed horse, the only one on record. He went on to become a professor of archeology in Idaho. We only saw Don once after he left. He called on us after I was married. He very kindly told us that his summer in St. George was one of the most enjoyable of his life.

Many years passed before we saw Floyd again. He retired in Bloomington and he remained my very good friend until his death.

The new baby was expected around the 10th of December. December 10 rolled around and no baby. This was quite encouraging to Mother, it seemed a sure sign that the baby would be a boy. Mother had never gone over before.

Then, Christmas came and went and still no baby.

The race meet that was held the last three days of December had started. The race track was just across the street from our house. Every year Mother and Dad's friends came to watch the races, the ladies from our front porch or the window in the warm house, while their husbands went to the race track and watched from the grand stand and did a little betting. Mother's friends all encouraged her with, "It's sure to be a boy, they're always late."

After the races Mother and Dad's friends always met for a party of some sorts. Still, Mother felt whole and hearty.

On December 31, Frances and I were getting ready for the dance when Mama announced that her time had come. Her pains hadn't started, but her water broke and that meant business. She went to the hospital about 11:00 o'clock. This would be Mother's first confinement at a hospital.

After the dance, we were so excited we couldn't sleep. One o'clock, two o'clock, still there was no word that our new little brother had arrived. Around 3:30, our Dad came home from the hospital.

"Well, what is it? What is it?" we all screamed.

I'll never forget the disappointment in his voice, though he tried to seem pleased.

"Well, we have another little suffragette and she was born on Jim's birthday. That alone makes her special!"

By the time Mother was able to come home from the hospital, I was in bed with pleurisy pneumonia. It was the custom at that time for a Mother not to even put her feet on the floor for ten days after delivering a baby. So, Mama was rather unsteady on her pins when she came home. She was quite upset to find the furnace out, a messy house, a sick daughter, and Frances announcing that she was getting married on the 25th.

As usual, mother's resourcefulness came to the front and she soon had things running smoothly.

Our baby was a darling and we all fell in love with her at once. She was so good, just slept and smiled.

Frances quit school during Christmas break. Mack Crandall, her husband to be, was going back to Salt Lake to school and she wanted to go with him.

Once again, Mother rose to the occasion, and two weeks later gave Frances a very nice little wedding.

All my friends were really impressed with the baby. At the hospital Mother had given the name of "Marcia Jeanette" to the doctor to be recorded, which was the name of Dad's baby sister and Mother's best friend. Dad hated that name. My friend, Minnie, and I were particularly impressed with the name "Teddy." We had just seen a romantic movie where the heroine was the Lady Edwina -- called Teddy. We were also Ranch Romance fans and a current continued story featured "Teddy" as the main girl. Dad liked the name Sue, and we thought Teddy Sue would be just darling.

"You might have a little girl, but Teddy is a boy's name. If we named her Edwina Sue we could still call her Teddy!"

So, it was decided. Dad still didn't have the proper priesthood, and since Brother White was so close to us and was a surrogate Grandpa, he filled in for Dad. Although Brother White was getting older, he still lived at the farm, coming to town only on Saturday nights so he could go to church on Sunday.

He gave the baby a beautiful blessing, so beautiful that Teddy's children incorporated part of her blessing into blessings they gave to their own children.

I didn't go to Dixie College a second year. Instead, I went to Woodbury's College at L.A. to study costume design. I had great visions of grandeur, in which I would probably costume all the great movie stars, or at least work at some big and important clothing company.

My friend, Helen Hafen, went with me, only she chose to take a business course. We got an apartment with still another friend, Terry, who was studying dentistry at U.S.C.

The depression was beginning to ease and things at the farm got better.

Dad changed the face of the farm a lot the years that I was away to school. The first year he terraced the 40 acre piece that went from the house to the county road. He eliminated a sub-canal that cut diagonally through the entire piece, removed the big black willow tree and the road leading to the county road. By moving the ditches around it was necessary to pull up the little orchard below the slaughter house.

I hated to see the Austrian apple trees gone when I came home that next Summer. We used to have such good times running from one tree to another. Dad kept the pigs in this small orchard and there was one boar pig that was absolutely huge and terrifying. We called him "Old Harry," and we were scared to death of him. Whenever we went to gather apples or peaches we would climb up on the fences to get up in the tree. Immediately, he would be under the tree to get anything that we knocked down. If we wanted to go to another tree we would throw an apple as far as we could, and while he was chasing after it we would run as fast as we could to the next tree. It was fun to thwart Old Harry and we were thrilled when Dad finally took him to market. We didn't buy sausage for weeks for fear we might eat a piece of Old Harry!

I hated to see the old willow cut down, too. The tree was immense, at least 15 feet in diameter. Here we made a play house in the trunk and it was plenty roomy. The head gate under the tree on the sub canal was the only place that got deep enough to swim and it was gone.

Even I realized that everything that was changed was changed for the better, and Dad retrieved quite a chunk of land, not to mention greater ease in irrigating.

The first summer I was away he got a new hired man. John and his wife Ruth Richards came from Missouri to visit some relations on a neighboring farm. They liked the west and decided to stay if they could find a job. Dad was lacking a current hired man, so when they approached him he was very pleased.

It turned out that in Dad's book John was listed as what was known as the, perfect farmer. He not only loved farming, but was a wonderful mechanic. He could fix anything. If Dad could have had his pick of all the good farmers in the world, he would have chosen John.

John was a handsome man, the strong, silent type, well built and in his early thirties. He was shy and didn't have much to say, but he was really a doer. Dad had just bought a new cat and a land plane, so he just turned them over to John and didn't have to worry about his equipment again.

Ruth was a person that you liked better as you knew her. She was a large, raw boned woman, not fat, not thin, and rather plain looking. She was the type of person that one might say on first appearance, "How come she got such a handsome husband?" even though she didn't say much to others, she probably told John everything to do. However, Dad really liked her, probably as much as John.

It always annoyed Mother to have Dad always quote Ruth. Mother was probably a little jealous because Ruth seemed to be a real dull lady -- nice, but dull. She was clean in both her looks and in her housekeeping, but tacky in both her house and appearance. Mother couldn't understand why Dad always praised someone who kept such an unattractive house.

Both John and Ruth were quite unassuming people and didn't say much, but if they were quiet, their little two year old, Eddie, made up for them. He was a holy terror, very hyper and never still a minute. He was into everything he could get his hands on. He was a precocious child and talked and walked early. John and Ruth were old when they married and they knew Eddie would be their only child, so he was king and in his terrible two's.

When Ruth spent the afternoon with Mother, as she quite often did, Mother was a nervous wreck by the time she took Eddie home. Mother had lots of lovely decorations sitting around and Eddie was in to everything.

I was really home sick during my second year at school. When Christmas rolled around, my Aunt Helen, who lived in nearby Long Beach, decided to take her family and my cousin, Don who was working in L.A., to St. George to spend the holidays.

I left school early and Dan and I loaded up our suitcases with Christmas gifts and caught the old P.E. for Long Beach.

Aunt Helen and her family were waiting for us and ready to go. They drove a Dodge 4-door Sedan, and in we piled -- and I do mean piled! Aunt Helen, Uncle Ross, Bob, Bill, Diane, Don, and 1, together with clothes and gifts, certainly made a load.

To travel with Aunt Helen was a ball. She always says things in a way that has a double meaning or risque things that only the family understood so that she had us laughing all the way. She was very witty and always had a way with people. She made friends wherever she went.

Well, we got as far as Fontana and the car began to sputter. The service man at the gas station was just getting ready to close and wasn't too thrilled to fix what ailed us. Aunt Helen, however, saved the day by flattering him and calling him a good Samaritan, and bragged up his ability until he stayed and fixed the car and didn't even charge us extra. Aunt Helen's thanks was all that he needed.

All went well until we got to DeVore, where once again the car stopped. Once again, Aunt Helen talked the repair man into helping us, even though it was after hours, and again he didn't charge us extra.

Stuffed into the car, though, and after numerous stops, we finally made it to St. George after sixteen hours of traveling.

Christmas Eve parties have always been,a farmily tradition. Because we had the largest living room, the party was usually held at our house. Mama had been getting ready for this party for weeks, making fruit cakes, candies, and popcorn. We always have a pot luck dinner and everyone in the family is invited. Mama wanted everything to be especially nice for Uncle Ed, who was bringing his "stylish" lawyer friend and his wife from Salt Lake City.

"I hope it won't put you out none, but I invited John and Ruth to the party," Dad said. "They don't have anybody and Christmas is a hellova time to be alone."

Mama was exasperated, but what could she say, Dad was right and you had to be charitable at Christmas. She had visions of Eddie breaking all the dooda's and pulling all the ornaments off the tree.

"I don't think they'll have a very good time, they won't know anybody and that kid will spoil everything."

"Of course, they'll have a good time. Would you like to be alone on Christmas without family? We're the only family they have out here."

Mama understood and she really did want them, but she wanted things to be so right with all her company and everything, and she could see little Eddie with his wet diaper on her nice Wilton rug.

Uncle Ed was a real tease and practical joker, and the friend he was bringing was made from the same mold. This friend had brought several gag props from Salt Lake to help liven the party.

My Grandma only knew two pieces on the piano, "Over the Waves," and "The Prisoner's Song." Everyone always insisted that Grandma play her songs. Just as she sat down at the piano, Uncle Ed slipped a whoopee cushion under her. Poor Grandma, she nearly died of embarrassment.

The prime joke of the evening was yet to be played with Mother being the victim since she was so fastidious. The stage was set while Mother was in the kitchen putting the rolls in the oven.

Uncle Ed's friend had brought this prop from Salt Lake. It was a rock, painted to resemble something very squishy that might have fallen from Eddie's diaper. Everyone watched Uncle Ed place it in an inconspicuous spot near the fireplace, then he went into the kitchen.

"Maude," he whispered, "come quick, there's something I think you ought to see." And leading her by the hand he took her to the fireplace.

"Oh, no! It's that darn kid. I knew something like this would happen. How can I clean it up without everyone seeing me? Oh, don't let anyone else see. I believe I can scoop it up with a newspaper." She hurried to the kitchen and came back with a large newspaper.

"How can I pick it up without getting it all over?" All the time she was talking quietly to Uncle Ed, thinking no one was watching her.

Everyone was about to crack up as Mama carefully covered the rock with newspaper and, with a grimace, scooped it up. When she realized what had happened, she was really mortified over the fuss she had made and for having blamed little Eddie.

Although Mother never used bad language, she turned and said, "Oh, Ed, you damned ass."

So, Christmas Eve passed and everyone, including John and Ruth and even little Eddie, who was a model child that night, had a great time.

John and Ruth did stay with Dad several years and did have a super relationship with them. Things might have remained the same if the war hadn't come along. John liked St. George and though it would have been a good place for little Eddie to start school.

War jobs brought big money in Las Vegas, so they, too, moved on. Dad really hated to see them leave. They had become more than just employer and employee, but real special friends. He always thought of John as the best damned hired man he had ever had.

John and Ruth kept in touch with Dad for many years. They always called on him whenever they came to St. George, and they always sent a card at Christmas.

Gus Fullerton, our current cowboy, was a reformed wing. He was not reformed from desire but from necessity. His stomach had reached a place where it could no longer accept his riotous living.

Gus was perhaps fifty years old. His family had been with the first settlers in St. George. He had been born and raised there. The fact that he had been born and raised in Sand Town, as the northern end of St. George was called, put him in the wild bunch to start with.

There probably wasn't much Gus hadn't done in the way of wining and wenching, but Dad thought he was honest enough even though he had ridden for Shanley, a suspected outlaw. Good cowboys were hard to find, and Gus had spent lots of years in the saddle.

From his appearance and size, one might have expected him to be a jockey. His years in the saddle had bowed his legs and turned his complexion into brown leather. The first time I met him I thought his face resembled a skull with its deep-set eyes. The bridge of his nose was almost nil, and his nostrils stood out like two dark caves, and the skin around his mouth stretched over square, yellow, tobacco-stained teeth. This description sounds rather formidable, but that was far from the truth. Gus always had a very pleasant countenance. He was extremely neat and had a very dapper bearing. He walked with an air of importance on his small cowboy boot shod feet.

He had a reputation for cursing and swearing, but he always treated me with the utmost respect and like a lady. Had I not heard Mother, when I was young, accuse Dad of sounding like Old Gus Fullerton, I would never have believed it.

Gus was extremely generous to his friends. After working for months on the range, he would collect his pay check and come to town and spend it all on his cheeky friends.

He would get all gussied up in a new silk cowboy shirt and stroll down to Judd's Hotel corner where his friends met daily. They would sit on the retaining wall in front and spend the day nipping wine and making lewd remarks and jokes about all the passers-by.

He loved St. George and one day he and a friend were remarking on its merits.

"Oh, isn't this a beautiful little town," Gus thickly remarked as he went weaving down the street. I believe I'll buy this town."

"Oh, no you won't," said his friend, "it's not for sale."

"How do you know?"

"Easy, I don't want to sell."

Gus was a dainty eater, too. When Dad went to fix his grub box, he said that a small can of asparagus tips didn't cost much more than a big can of beans, and Gus preferred asparagus.

All the while LeGrande and I lived on the farm, Gus remained our cowboy. I don't believe he even knew how to drive a car. He would come to the farm every morning with Dad, saddle up and saunter out of the yard on a slow trot.

We had a little cabin on the Fort Pierce and if Gus hadn't finished his days work he would stay there until he did.

Gus fixed fence, branded, ear marked, and neutered the calves as they came. He cleaned tumbleweeds from the ponds and water holes, made sure the gates were closed and the cattle were all in our pastures. It was up to the rancher to see that the fences were all intact and water holes adequate on B.L.M. ground.

When the Taylor Grazing Act passed, the cattlemen were given a B.L.M. grazing permit based on the amount of base property they owned, what prior use they had made of the surrounding grazing land. If a rancher had filed on existing springs and ponds, their claims had to be proved. They were responsible for all water. They made ponds to catch run-off water and built wells and windmills. A fee was charged on each cow unit (a mother cow and her calf) that grazed on B.L.M. ground.

We had to do lots of research at the court house to find all the old filings Grandpa and Dad's brothers had had in that area. The Seegmillers had run cattle in that area since before Dad was even born. They ran burrows when Dad was a little boy. During WWI, they would go out on the strip and catch wild mustangs and mate them with the burrows. This produces mules. They would then break the mules and sell them to the U.S. Government to use in the army.

After Dad finally received his allotment, he found that he needed a cowboy most of the time that would be willing to spend a good share of time out on the Arizona Strip.

The Summer before I graduated from Woodbury College in L.A., I met a young man from Cedar City who was attending Mortuary College, also in L.A. We dated and by Christmas both of us had graduated from our different schools. When we went home for the holidays, we decided to make our dating permanent. We were married February 14, in the St. George Temple.

LeGrande had secured a job in a mortuary in Salt Lake, so after a very nice reception we left for Salt Lake City. The weather was terrible and we were in a blinding snow storm all the way to Salt Lake.

The next few years were spent working in a mortuary, first in Salt Lake, and then we bought our own mortuary in Cedar City, LeGrande's home town.

I was building my own life and didn't follow too closely much what was going on at the farm. All I knew was that John and Ruth were there for a while and that they were perfect.

Then, war was declared! All the available help the town offered seemed to suddenly move away, either to the high paying war jobs in the city or to the service. Farm help was hard to come by. Dad complained all the time that he just couldn't get any qualified help, only older men or just boys.

We knew LeGrande would soon be drafted before long, and while waiting for this to happen, we had a chance to sell our mortuary. We knew that when he had to go to the service we would lose our business anyway since he was the business, so we decided it would be smart to sell while we had the chance. We decided to help Dad out on the farm until LeGrande got his call, and so he became one of Dad's Hired Hands.

By this time, we became parents of a little boy who died at birth, and a two and a half year old daughter, and were expecting our third baby in the Fall.

Clarence Connon was Dad's current hired hand when we moved to the farm. Clarence was an in-town man. He came from Sand Town and every morning he would walk from the extreme north end of town to Dad's in the southeast, and was there promptly at eight to ride to the farm with Dad. Clarence had worked for Dad off and on for years. Now his job was permanent.

Clarence was a pleasant fellow, stockyy built and still had lots of sandy hair. Clarence was strictly a farmer. He wore a blue chambray work shirt with a sack of Bull Durham and the makings in the front pocket, a pair of Levis and laced work shoes. In the Winter his straw hat was substituted with a replica in felt and he added a denim pumper to his wardrobe.

Clarence was a hard worker. He never expected any favors. He was never late for work, seldom sick, and he was also ready to leave when the day was over. He seemed to enjoy all aspects of farm work and knew he could do anything better than anyone else.

Clarence was a big talker and always knew everything that was going on in town. He was married to the town mayor's daughter and was the father of three children, which were the smartest kids their age in town, and spent hours giving us a play-by-play account of their escapades.

Dad was also waiting for Dean Jinks, a young cousin of John Richards', from Missouri to arrive. Dean was barely 18 years old and had just married Evelyn, who was only 16 years old.

We moved to the farm and did a new face lift on the old house. Of course, there was still no electricity, and water still came from town, only now we pumped it from a cisbin just outside the kitchen.

We found a kerosene refrigerator and some gas lamps. I made a delightful little dining room out of the old store room and bought a new dinette set for it. We bought a new couch and new rugs. We really made the place quite attractive and comfortable. I sort of took over Mama's job of cooking for Dad's Hired Men. Clarence brought his own lunch, but I had to cook for Dad and Gus and any day help that came from town, usually kids that had a big appetite but were too young to join the service.

Dean and Evelyn arrived shortly after us, and moved in the Dode house. Dean was a shorter version of John only much more verbal. He was young and as strong as a bull. He was able to do anything and was almost as gifted in mechanics as John.

Evelyn was a pretty girl with lots of beautiful red, curly hair, just a little on the plump side. Evelyn was young, just barely turned 16. She was really afraid of the mountains and felt they were just going to close in on her and crush her to pieces. Her life in the flat area of the U.S. hadn't prepared her for the spectacular heights of the hills and mountains around her and she didn't appreciate the beautiful view of the scenery all around her.

Evelyn hadn't mastered the art of home making yet, but that didn't seem to matter to Dean. When night fell, Dean was home and we noticed their lights went out rather early.

Dean and LeGrande seemed to bond immediately. They enjoyed working together and driving the tractors -- even the stubborn old Case. This tractor refused to turn over until it was cranked and cranked and cranked. It would then suddenly take hold and knock the crank out of their hands and would knock the men over as well. Both men had had their turn of being injured by this treacherous old Case.

Clarence and Dad, on the other hand, hated mechanized equipment and preferred working with horse teams.

Clarence would climb up on the seat of whatever equipment he was driving, flip the lines, and say in a loud voice, "Git up there, you lazy son of a bitches, this isn't Dean Jinks or LeGrande Spilsbury driving this team today!"

Throughout the entire summer there was a lot of rivalry about the benefits or disadvantages of horses and tractors, modern methods against traditional ways of doing things.

During the rainy days that winter, when it was too wet to do much outside, Dad would suggest we mend beet seed sacks. We would lay a big tarp on the floor so as to keep the rug somewhat clean, then dump a huge pile of torn or mouse eaten sacks on the floor. We had large darning needles threaded with twine and made patches from more torn sacks.

All the men, as well as myself, spent the day in the sewing circle. This was kinda fun. There were plenty of tall tales told and no one could tell stories like Clarence. I believe he knew all there was to know about horses and all horsedrawn vehicles. He knew stories and scandals about all the early settlers and their families.

Clarence was very loyal to my Dad, but didn't hit it off too well with my husband. There was always a conflict between the old and the new.

LeGrande was supposed to be the manager. He was only in his twenties and Clarence was in his forties. Clarence always called LeGrande "that straw boss son-in-law" and he didn't want any young, inexperienced whipper snapper telling him what to do. He would never take orders from LeGrande, he always waited for Dad to tell him what to do.

Dad should have been a water engineer. He spent many a sleepless night thinking how he could improve his irrigation system so his water would go further. He had been watching how much waste water from all the farms puddled in the swamps and eventually drained into the Virgin River through a sub-canal. He realized how stupid it was to just let the water go to waste.

"Mother, I think working on the soil conservation board all these years has finally paid off. I've been talking to some of the engineers and I believe we've been able to come up with a plan. They think that if we dig a deep enough drain ditch at the bottom of the fields, we could drain those swamps and make some good land. I've been talking to Gerald Seegmiller and some of the other neighbors, and they are willing to go along with me.

"The soil conservation has some big equipment and are eager to work on the project.

"I've talked to Ike Robinson and Charley Foster and they are willing to sell me those bottom pastures to put in a storage pond.

"I think I'll go and see how much Uncle Wally will lend me to buy those lower pastures."

"Oh, George, you're not going in debt again! Why, we've scarcely got your Dad paid off."

"This is a good opportunity if I can drain off all that sour land."

George always did his planning in the middle of the night and explained it to Maude. She may or may not agree, but he really was convincing himself.

A few days later found him in the office of Wallace Mathis, president of the Bank of St. George.

"Well, George, what can I do for you?"

"Uncle Wally, how much will you be able to lend me to buy those lower pastures of Robinson's and Foster's?

"Why, George, I wouldn't be able to lend you one copper penny. Why, those pastures are absolutely worthless. No one in their right mind would lend money on them. I've got the stock holders to consider."

No amount of explanation could convince him of the worth of the project.

George came home very discouraged. My Aunt Grace was visiting at our house at the time and after hearing Dad's sad story, she became interested.

"George, I've just inherited a little money from my Father. I've been wondering where I was going to put it. I'll be glad to lend it to you.

This was like a miracle, and so the work began.

A large drain ditch was dug across the bottom of the fields. Because the ditch was lower than the water table in the soggy fields, it drained off the seep water into this ditch, which ran into a large holding pond that stored the excess water. The waste water from all the farms around eventually ended up in that big drain pond. Dad then filed with the state for this water. With it he was then able to irrigate the dry brushy pastures and swamps that had been worthless before.

He then terraced the entire Morris farm so he could water each field with the run-off water from the terrace before. Of course, new ditches and roads and bridges had to be made. While Clarence hauled the manure with horse and team, LeGrande and Dean graded and plowed and straightened with the tractors.

All the five acre pieces of brush pasture land that had been considered practically useless and that he had bought over the years for a pittance, soon became rich irrigated farm land.

We lived on the farm three years. Then, problems began. Dad and LeGrande didn't see eye to eye on what was to be done. Being a straw boss was not always easy. LeGrande worked hard, but Dad's dream of what he wanted the farm to be was not always advantageous to us. Most of the work LeGrande did was in reclaiming the land. And, as is always the case, finances caused us to reconsider our options. It was hard to make a living when every bit of profit was plowed back into the land and your share of the profit was also your wages.

Since we had already sold our mortuary, we decided to move to Toquerville and help LeGrande's Dad until we decided what to do. LeGrande still hadn't been drafted.

Poor Dad. Soon after we left, Dean was called up. This made it necessary to rely on older men that lived in town or boys too young for the service. Clarence had quit to become sexton of the cemetery.

There were some displaced Japanese who leased some land from Dad and also worked part time for him. Dad really liked these people. They were very loyal U.S. citizens and even had a son in the service. He was really disturbed at the way the local citizens treated these Japanese families.

He was fortunate in finding Ellis Wilson to work for him. Ellis had a large family and lived in town. He seemed to take to irrigation and soon became a second Brother White. He stayed with Dad quite a number of years.

The war brought changes in all our lives. Practically everyone was forced to move from one locality to another. Some moves were good and some not so good. Many sought high paying war jobs, some followed husbands from camp to camp. Women became the wage earners and country folk moved to the city.

Of all the people who were forced to make changes there were none as heartbreaking as the American Japanese people. Japanese who had been born and raised in America for several generations especially those who had been raised in California. Those Japanese Americans who had friends and neighbors all their lives, suddenly became the enemy. Old friends became suspicious and afraid because American born Japanese looked just like alien Japanese. No one knew where their loyalties lay.

Those Japanese people who lived near the coast or other military installations, no matter how loyal or how much money they had, were taken from their homes and businesses and force to live in an isolated desert of Topaz, Utah.

Mr Ishi Moto was a very successful farmer who had spent his life farming in the Moapa valley of Nevada, not far from the Boulder Dam or the Nellis Air Force Base.

He was more fortunate than most of his fellow countrymen. He was allowed to move to St. George and he was allowed to rent a small parcel of acreage and continue his business of raising vegetables.

Mr. Ishi Moto moved his family to what used to be the state experiment farm in the Washington fields five miles south of St. George.

Ishi Moto was a very loyal citizen and had one son serving in the American armed forces.

Now the experiment farm neighbored my father's farm. Mr. Ishi Moto his wife, his daughter and son-in-law lived on this farm. He also rented a few acres from Dad. Help was scarce and when dad got in a pinch Mr Ishi Moto and his son-in-law, Jack, came over to help dad out. Jack came quite often and he and LeGrande became quite good friends.

Most of the farmers were quite friendly with them although there were a few who were quite rude and tried to take advantage of him when it came to water turns. Dad became quite disgusted with the actions of some of the farmers, especially those with high church positions. He felt that they should have been kinder and more understanding to people in such an unfortunate position

Both the men and women in the Moto family worked the land growing vegetables and strawberries.

The Big Hand Cafe was located on the corner of main and what used to be Highway 91 (now St. George Blvd). It was the hub of all that was going on in St. George. There was always a Saturday night dance and no date was complete without a coke and hamburgers from the Big Hand. It was also the bus depot so the big Hand was one of the few businesses that was open all night. The busses arrived around twelve-thirty and again at three in the morning. It was a place where other late night workers could stop for a coffee break.

St. George Police Department consisted of a county Sheriff and a sometime deputy. There was also a night watchman by the name of Sam Fullerton. Sam's duty was to patrol the two blocks of businesses and he too had the Big Hand as his headquarters. It so happened that Mr. Ishi Moto's son was coming home on a furlough for a few days before going overseas and he would be on the three o'clock bus. Jack, Of course, went to town to pick him up.

It was Saturday night and the cafe was busy. The dance crowd was nearly cleared out when Jack arrived to wait for his brother-in-law.

There was a local sailor boy who was also on leave and was still in the cafe when Jack arrived. The sailor boy and his friends had drank a little too freely and were feeling very brave and heroic. When Jack walked in they were on him at once. They became very abusive, pushing him around and inviting him outside where they were going to beat him up and cut out his balls!

Poor Jack! He didn't know what to do. He felt that he could probably hold his own with the drunken rowdies, but would a Japanese dare to hit a serviceman even in self defense?

The night watchman had not finished his rounds yet and there was no one to appeal to. Everyone knew the local sailor and very few knew Jack. Jack didn't really know anyone in town. Then he thought of LeGrande. At 2:30 in the morning he called the farm and got him out of bed.

LeGrande had no small reputation as a fighter. Most everyone in the area knew of his boxing ability and not too many wanted to tangle with him. LeGrande was a most peaceful person and it takes quite a lot t push his buttons. However, when he gets his dander up you know it. By the time he got to the Big Hand he was angry. They had jack backed in a corner but they soon backed down after LeGrande called their bluff.

It must have been embarrassing for them when a Japanese American soldiers got off the bus and joined his brother-in-law. Everything turned our all right. It only goes to show what hatred and liquor can do to people.

These were all good people but they can surely get carried away in a mob spirit. Jack, himself, later joined the armed forces.

The Ishi Moto's lived on the farm until after the war. They were a very appreciative people. For many years after they were able to return to their own farm in Moapa, dad would find crates of the finest vegetables on his doorstep. Mr. Ishi Moto left the earliest tomatoes, strawberries, cantaloupes and what ever else was in season with a note from M. Ishi Moto expressing his friendship.

The war ended the second year we lived in Toquerville. Things began to loosen up a little. Rations were lifted and the economy began to return to normal. We loved Toquerville and the people there, and Toquerville was good to us. LeGrande became bishop and we bought a nice little house.

Our third daughter was born just about the time the war ended. Two years later, we were blessed with twins, a boy and a girl.

We may have stayed there indefinitely, but by a strange turn of events, LeGrande changed jobs and it seemed more advantageous for us to return to St. George. Previously, Dad had given us a building lot next to his house, so we decided to build there.

Soon after the war ended, Dean returned. Also, a young man named Raymond McBride came to be his cowboy.

Raymond was crazy about "cowboying," and would really have liked a place of his own. He had a few head of cattle of his own and needed a place to keep them. He made a deal with Dad to work for him and keep his cattle on Dad's range.

Dean and Raymond worked together very well. It wasn't long until they talked Dad into leasing them the farm and range for two years. Dad was a little tired and thought this would give him a rest. He thought that maybe he and Mother could do a little traveling that Mother had always wanted to do. Then, if things worked out, Dean and Raymond wanted to buy the farm.

Things changed after the wars. No one wanted to farm anymore. The young people wanted to go to the city and seek high paying jobs. New material and new techniques changed the entire lay of the land. Horses became obsolete. Big machinery was in. Instead of cutting hay with a mower, piling it with a rake, hauling it, and stacking it into hay stacks, the new machinery did the entire job in one operation. The same was true in other farm operations. Farming required new machinery and new machinery required money.

Hired men didn't want to live on the farm anymore. Cars and gasoline became plentiful, roads improved. Five miles was not a great distance anymore. Farm homes still didn't have water and electricity. Most modern wives wouldn't put up with such inconveniences.

Men couldn't afford to work for five dollars a day anymore. The cities were paying hourly wages. Some people got as much in an hour as farmers got by the day.

St. George didn't have any industry as it had always been a farming town. Even five dollars a day put a strain on a farmer's budget. However, there were always a few men with families who preferred farm life or life in the country and that heeded work.

After Dean and Raymond's two years were up, they decided that if you didn't already own your own land and machinery and couldn't do all the work yourself, they couldn't make ends meet financially. And so, they moved on. Raymond with his little herd of cows to see if he could find a place near his home in New Mexico.

Dean hated to leave because he had grown to love farming and the West. He was offered a good job back in St. Joseph, Missouri, so he left also. Dad really missed Dean. They had become really good friends.

The Jim Hughes' were the next family to work for Dad and live on the farm. Jim was married to lla Mae Bundy. They were certainly a good looking, accommodating young couple. Ila Mae was expecting when they moved down, but with cars and plenty of gas, a trip to town was no problem.

Early one morning she awoke Jim to say she thought she was probably going to have to go to town soon. Immediately, Jim got dressed.

"I'll feed the stock while you get your things together," he said.

Jim did hurry, but when he got back a short time later, Ila Mae was singing lullaby to her new born son.

Jim had two brothers that also worked for Dad now and then. Philbert was courting lla Mae's sister who was staying with her on the farm, and Bob was already married.

We hadn't moved into our new house two months before LeGrande started to go down to help Dad, at first just to get the pig out of the mire, so to speak. But it wasn't long before he became Dad's hired man once again.

Four years passed and then my Grandmother Miles died. Since LeGrande was still a mortician, he helped take care of her. During this time, we discovered Pickett Mortuary was for sale and we had a chance to buy it. After a month of negotiating, we did buy this business.

Dad was none too happy with our decision. He had begun to depend on LeGrande and this would leave him without adequate help. However, he still had Jim and then acquired Irvin Davenport. Irvin was a tall, handsome, strong, and young. He was mechanically talented. Dad could fix anything in the horse drawn category, but now everything was beginning to be mechanized and Irvin could handle it. Irvin liked farming and was eager to learn. Dad liked Irvin very much and once remarked, "If my son had lived, I would have wanted him to be just like Irvin."

It seems farms and land go on forever, regardless of what changes take place in people's life. People come and people go, and it seems there is always someone else to fill their shoes. Dad always felt bad when he had lost a good hand, one that he had learned to trust and depend on, but the next one to take their place was also loved and trusted.

Being a farm hired hand never paid enough, and so when Jim's family increased, he also had to increase his wages, and so he left. Irvin also needed to increase his earnings since he got married and started his own family, and when he was offered a better job, of course, he took it.

There was lots of water passed under the bridge in our family also. We had joys and heart breaks. We experienced death, birth, marriage, and divorce. One of the happiest events was when Teddy Sue, our baby sister, married Bart Graff. When Bart lost his truck driving job it was only natural that he would be Dad's next hired hand. Dad had given Teddy Sue a lot also, so we all lived together in a row.

The day Dad hit water in a well he was digging close to the Fort Pierce wash, and this was about the most thrilling day we had experienced, for everyone in the family. A few acres along the Fort Pierce had been cultivated at one time by Bill Atkin, who had homesteaded the property and who found that trying to get water out of the Fort Pierce was just too difficult, so he sold the place to Dad for pasture land.

As the water gushed forth, so did Dad's dreams. His vision of the future soared. As he looked across the dry cactus and sage brush landscape, the scene faded, and in his mind he saw waving fields of alfalfa and grain and trees. He was only trying to get enough water for the cattle, but here was a stream big enough to irrigate a farm.

Now his vision of the future floated before his eyes. As long as Dad had a vision and there were banks that would lend him money, he proceeded to make the vision a reality.

It was certainly a lucky day for Dad, the day Bart lost his job, for he was certainly a God-send to Dad.

Bart took over the management of the now old farm. Farming was not exactly new to Bart. As a boy he had worked with his father, who became head gardener at the Sahara Hotel in Las Vegas. Bart enjoyed farming and now that he had two sons it seemed a good place to raise kids.

With Bart on the job Dad proceeded to make the new farm a reality. While Bart supplied the brawn, Dad supplied the brains.

His first job was to make a holding pond to centralize the irrigation system. He marked out and leveled fields, put in cement ditches, fences, and roadways.

Dad looked at the Fort Pierce with a wondering mind. Now, the Fort Pierce only ran water during the rainy season, but when the rains came in late summer there were tremendous floods. The run-off water from the entire valley tore down the wash in a torrent carrying boulders, trees, and even animals -anything that got in its way. The swift stream undermined the banks and then washed them away leaving jagged banks.

Dad looked at all that wonderful water going to waste. Many sleepless nights later he came up with a plan that could turn all that flood water onto his land. He made canals that would carry the flood water on to his low land bordering the wash. Then, he built head gates and dams to turn the water in and out. The plan wasn't successful over night. He had made a large cement head gate, but found that the swift water took it out as if it were made of straw. He decided several turning gates were needed as well as the big ones, and the water had to be dammed below the head gate to slow the water down. This he did bye chaining old cars together and adding huge boulders. Eventually, he was successful. Every flood dropped six to eight inches of new top soil. The entire low end of the farm was flooded. The smell of the flood water was terrible. He had managed to slow the water down until it didn't wash out the bank, and with this method he was able to create about forty acres of new land.

Making new land cost money and soon he was in a dilemma. When the chance came to sell the old farm to the L.D.S. Church for a welfare farm, he did.

Now all his time, money, and efforts were put onto the new farm. Without Bart he probably couldn't have accomplished this.

He turned the management over to Bart, but of course, Dad couldn't trust even Bart with his dream. He still went down every day. Farming on new land requires new machinery and fertilizer and lots of other expensive things. Without being the owner it was hard to borrow money. Bart could see that in his position he just couldn't make it. Once again, he returned to his former job. He bought a truck and began his own trucking business.

Dad was old by this time. After age eighty it's hard to do all the work. He tried leasing the farm to several people, but they also decided it was too far away from town and not profitable enough.

Once again, Dad was approached by the L.D.S. Church, looking for a welfare farm for another stake. He decided to sell this farm also. He was quite proud of the fact that both of his farms had become welfare farms.

Time rested heavily on Dad's hands after selling the farm and so he started farming his lot in town. Every inch of his lot was cultivated. He laid awake at night figuring little water saving devices.

The last few years of his life his knees gave way and he could no longer mow or weed. Once again, he had to have another hired man. This time it was Mr. Schwartz, a retired farmer from the midwest who now operated a gardening clean up business. Mr. Schwartz looked like a farmer. He was over six feet tall and skinny as a string bean. He wore bib overalls and a blue chambray shirt with lace up shoes and a big straw hat. Once a week Mr. Schwartz would mow the lawn, trim the shrubs, and hoe the weeds. Then set for an hour or so with Dad on the front porch discussing the old days when farming was a sought after profession.

Mother always complained that Dad paid Mr. Schwartz by the hour. She said it cost more money talking to him than the work he did.

Dad died at age 87. Mr. Schwartz still continued to be his last hired hand, and he spent the next five years, until after Mother's death, doing Mother's yard work.

I guess Mr. Schwartz must have been at least 20 years younger than Mom, but she would say, "Oh, I guess my old man will be coming to do the yards, so I'll have to go home so I can pay him."