It was Sunday July 5, 1908, and Bess would spend her first night in her new home.
PART II
Chapter Twelve
“Mornin’, Miss Parker,” Ken Fisher said. “Gonna start on the fence. Probably take ’til tomorrow noon to finish.” Ken had just arrived shortly after dawn on Friday morning with his wagon filled with lumber to build the fence south of the corral. A small fenced-in pasture about one hundred yards wide and two hundred yards long would give Annabel plenty of space to exercise and graze of the fresh prairie grass. And it would be a good place to contain the sheep when Bess was able to obtain them.
“Good morning, Ken,” Bess said. “Beautiful day.” Bess had begun to like Ken. He was tall and slender, he always wore a broad hat over what appeared to be a crop of untamed black hair, and he was manly in a cowboy sort of way, with his blue pants and scuffed boots. He had a slight southern accent and would sometimes drawl.
“Goin’ to the social tomorrow afternoon? I’m takin’ the missus. She likes ’em,” Ken said as he wiped sweat from his brow.
“Social?” Bess said.
“Town social. By the school. Three o’clock.”
“Church event?” Bess said. She wasn’t interested in getting involved with any church in a religious sort of way.
“No,” said Ken. “Town businesses run it. It’s a way to get customers, I suppose.”
Bess hadn’t heard about the social, but it might be something to attend. She didn’t know many people in town except Mr. Currie, Ken Fisher, and Brian Feist and his wife at the lumberyard. Maybe she could meet some of her neighbors. What to wear, though, was the question. Bess had brought two dresses but hadn’t yet taken them out of her trunk.
“Is it potluck?” asked Bess. She would need to think of something to make if it were. Bread pudding maybe? She could do that on short notice.
“Nope,” said Ken. “Women’s group bringin’ the food.”
Bess realized that she should go to the social. After all, she didn’t have any friends aside from her work buddies, and if everything went according to plan, she would be here at least five years. She had been enjoying getting to know Ken. He and his wife, Sarah, had lived in Mitchell, South Dakota, a larger town in the eastern part of the state where Ken had spent six years as a farrier, a person skilled in the art of shoeing horses. Domestic horses needed foot protection and workhorses needed to have shoes replaced every six to eight weeks. It was an art as much as a simple process; not only did the farrier have to know the specific steps to actually put on the shoes, but he had to be knowledgeable about how to clean hooves and keep a horse calm while giving horse confidence that he would not cause any pain. During the previous week, Bess had taken Annabel into Haley to have Ken shoe her, and she was impressed by how quickly he did it and how calm Annabel was during the entire process.
I need to immerse myself in this town … my new home, Bess thought as she stared at the sky.
Saturday morning, after finishing up her chores for the day, Bess went inside and got dressed for the social. This marked the first time she wore a dress since the day she left Cando, with the exception of one weekend when she put on a skirt while training Annabel.
Bess had learned to ride in a full skirt, though eventually Mama had made her a pair of tan riding breeches. What was most important about riding in a full skirt was that the horse must be comfortable with waving cloth and not get spooked. That wasn’t a problem today, as Bess headed into town. The weather was calm, and Bess just walked Annabel into town and avoided any breezes.
As she rode through town, Bess could sense some people staring at her as she rode in the full skirt on a Western saddle instead of an English saddle or sidesaddle. Maybe some people had a problem with it because they rarely, if ever, saw a woman wearing a full skirt while riding—especially on a Western saddle, but Bess didn’t care. She rode Annabel to the livery and stabled her while she walked to the social. While it wasn’t a church social, it was held at the large area—almost a field—beside the Lutheran church.
There must have been a hundred people at the social and Bess recognized only the Curries, Brian Feist and his wife, and the proprietor of the livery, whose name she couldn’t remember. This was clearly an opportunity for her to try to find other homesteaders who might be close neighbors and to get to know them. The best way to do this, she thought, was to ask Mr. Currie and Brian Feist for suggestions. They could possibly point her to her neighbors and perhaps even make some introductions.
Bess had a strategy about meeting new people. When she was in school—from elementary through high school—one of her interests was geography, in particular the geography of the United States. When she met someone, she would always ask where they were originally from; if the answer was from somewhere in the United States (which it usually was), Bess would most likely be familiar with the area and be able to ask good questions. She’d found that most people liked to be asked about themselves simply because it was what they were most familiar with. Bess remembered that she had unconsciously used the “geography technique” on Linda, and Linda had enthusiastically responded to her questions, obviously enjoying being asked about herself.
During the social, Bess met and spent time with two homestead families: the Lees, Ernie and Irene, who lived several miles to the west of Bess’s place in South Dakota; and the Harlands, Sig and Dorothy, who lived slightly west but across the state line in North Dakota along the banks of the Grand River.
Bess learned that the Lees were grain farmers and had purchased a full section of land just north of the Teepee Buttes. They had sheep as well—about one hundred head—and had experience with the local shearers who could be hired in the spring. Ernie warned Bess of the coyotes that prowled the Teepee Buttes and the dangers they posed to the sheep during lambing time in the spring. He said he’d lost nearly a dozen lambs in May.
Sig and Dorothy Harland were sheep and cattle ranchers. They were not homesteaders. They had purchased their land from a land company—three full sections totaling 1,920 acres—and were quite prosperous. Bess told them that she wanted to purchase some sheep later in the summer; Sig said that he ran about five hundred head and would be willing to discuss selling some of the Rambouillet ewes to her, a breed of sheep that Papa had recommended because they produced an abundance of excellent, rather oily wool. Bess said she would follow up with him about purchasing some ewes.
Following her conversation with the Harlands, Bess walked over to a long table stocked with food provided by the women’s group. There were dishes of potato salad, string beans, macaroni and cheese, and several cuts of various kinds of meat—beef, pork and lamb—and two large platters of fried chicken.
She carefully selected some of almost everything on her plate and was at the end of the table feeling a bit self-conscious about how much she had taken when a very attractive and friendly young woman with blonde hair and naturally rosy lips simply said, “Hello! I’m Martha Homelvig, and you are…?”
“Bess. Bess Parker.” Bess nearly dropped her plate reaching out to accept Martha’s extended hand. Stunning, Bess thought as she gazed at the beautiful young woman. Martha was wearing a long blue dress that reminded Bess of the dress Linda wore when they parted. In fact, Martha somewhat reminded Bess of Linda. So similar, she thought, with the exception, maybe, of the blonde hair. There was something in Martha’s aura that made Bess pay attention.
Martha turned and pointed at a young man wearing what appeared to be his Sunday best: a dark suit with a white shirt, string tie, and a black hat that partially covered his fair hair. “This is my husband, Don,” she said, not so cheerfully.
Don looked at Bess, nodded slightly without saying anything or even extending his hand, and then looked away as though he were completely bored with the whole afternoon and had no intention of engaging in any sort of conversation. Bess noticed that his shoes were in need of a good cleaning: they looked as though he had just waded through a muddy barnyard.
Ma
rtha’s face lit up when she spoke, flashing a beautiful smile, and seemed anxious to chat. “We live about five miles east of Haley north of the Grand River on a small farm. We’re trying to prove up on our homestead by farming wheat.”
Martha suddenly had a rather sad look on her face. She began to explain that they had come from Wisconsin when Don interrupted. “I’m going over to the lumberyard.” He then walked off without so much as a nod to his wife. Martha just ignored what had just happened and continued to talk with Bess.
“Don’t mind Don,” Martha said. “He’s like that. Not much of a talker.” She smiled nervously.
Bess put down her full plate of food on an empty table—preferring to talk to this beautiful woman rather than eat. They were standing near the creamery where some of the women had been serving ice cream all afternoon, mainly to the children. “Ice cream?” Martha asked as she pointed to the serving table.
Bess nodded. “Been tempted all afternoon.” She laughed. They walked over to the serving table and each took a bowl of fresh vanilla ice cream. It was a golden creamy color and very rich. No wonder all the children had been coming back for seconds.
“Hard to find friends out here,” said Martha. “I know only two people in town: the Curries.”
Bess smiled. Wanting to get to know Martha better, Bess said, “Me too. Maybe we can meet sometime.”
“I’d like that,” said Martha. Her demeanor had changed from the look of sadness to bright anticipation of a potential friendship. “Where is your place?”
Bess explained that she had just recently filed for her homestead and had built a small sod house. She pointed to the hill a mile to the south with the stone Johnnie. “Right there,” she said, “just down the hill from the stone Johnnie.”
“Do you go to church?” Martha asked. “We go to the Lutheran church in town.”
“Haven’t been there,” Bess said. “Maybe next Sunday.” Bess was surprised at herself for volunteering to go to church. She hadn’t been to church for at least four years.
Martha smiled and nodded as her husband walked back up to them. “Let’s go,” he said without even giving Bess a glance.
Martha reached out her hand, and she and Bess shook hands warmly. “See you on Sunday,” she said. Martha smiled sheepishly and quickly put down her half-eaten bowl of ice cream as Don took her arm and led her away. Bess watched as her smile vanish as they silently walked away.
Interesting woman, Bess thought. I’d like to get to know her better.
Bess went to the livery, got Annabel, and rode slowly back to her home as the sun began to set. The day had been very pleasant, and as Ken had promised, was fruitful. She had met some neighbors, had a good lead on purchasing some sheep, and had met Martha, whom she liked. While going to church wasn’t very high on her list of priorities, she thought she might as well attend a service the following Sunday just to see Martha again. It would be good to have a local friend.
Up until this point, Bess had received several letters from Linda, who seemed to be settling in well in Miles City. She mentioned that she had a job at a small dry goods store, which kept her busy. Bess answered each letter and kept Linda posted on what she was doing and the progress she was making in setting up her property. Bess explained how lucky she was to have a good well with fresh, clear water so close to the house.
On Monday Bess purchased thirty leghorn chicks, brought them to the chicken coop, and put them under a brooder to keep them warm with a kerosene lamp. She constructed a small roost inside the coop for the chickens that consisted of four one-inch boards nailed to two-by-fours attached to the side opposite the door. She also built some wooden nests in the hope that she would soon be flooded with fresh eggs after the little chicks were grown.
During the week she fixed up the stall for Annabel to include a water trough and a trough for feed, which was usually filled with hay and some that oats she had purchased from the feed store. Rather than continue to purchase hay, she planned to have Ken mow part of the pasture so she could stack some hay near the shed and corral for the winter. No need to buy hay, she thought, because it grows in abundance around here. Annabel seemed happy with her stall in the shed, but most of the time Bess let her wander the pasture where Ken had built the new fence so she could exercise and graze.
Bess attended the Lutheran church service in Haley on the following Sunday, tolerated the sermon, and was able to visit with Martha again after the service. Martha was definitely looking for Bess and greeted her with enthusiasm. Her husband, Don, was nowhere to be seen; Bess wasn’t sure if he was even there.
“Do you come into town much?” asked Martha.
“Just to get supplies and mail,” Bess said. “Homestead keeps me busy.”
“What’s your place like?” Martha asked, obviously interested.
“It’s a small sod house. Brian Feist built it. I have a shed, corral, and chickens, but I plan to buy some sheep soon. That’s about all for now.”
“Sounds like you’re busy,” said Martha. “Ever go to Scranton or Bowman?”
Bess paused for a moment at the mention of Bowman and her heart fluttered. “Haven’t been to Bowman,” she said. “I’ll probably go sometime. You been there?”
“Twice,” said Martha. “We don’t go to town much, but Bowman’s nice--bigger than Scranton. There’s more to do.”
“Sounds attractive,” Bess said. She thought about her plan of going to Bowman sometime to meet Linda.
“I would love to see your place,” said Martha. “I can get away sometimes. Don is always working on the farm. He wouldn’t mind.”
Bess paused for a moment, her mind racing. It would be nice to have Martha visit the homestead, she thought. I could show her around a bit and have someone to talk to. So why did she feel so much hesitancy? She was puzzled.
“Maybe you can come over after church next Sunday?” Bess said. “A little Sunday dinner?”
“I’d like that very much,” Martha said. “You came out here by yourself and homesteaded?”
“Yes,” Bess said. “It has always been my dream.”
“Brave--exciting, too!” Martha said. “I admire that.”
“Next Sunday?” Bess said. “We can ride to my place after church.”
“Yes! Can I bring anything?”
“Dessert?” Bess said.
“Like a pie?”
“Apple!”
“I’ll bring an apple pie.” Martha beamed.
“I’ll shoot a pheasant or two,” Bess said with a broad grin and without thinking. I wonder if I will actually be able to find some pheasants, she thought, but it will give me a chance to go hunting and see if I can still shoot. Memories of her and Papa hunting flashed through her mind, and she looked forward to the hunt and the challenge. “I can’t promise that I’ll get any pheasants, but I’ll try!” She laughed.
Bess and Martha visited as the churchgoers began to depart from the after-service reception. Martha reached out and took Bess’s hand, and Bess’s mouth went dry.
“Thank you, Bess,” she said. “Next Sunday.”
“Next Sunday,” Bess replied weakly. Martha stepped forward and gave her a hug. Bess was a bit surprised, but hugged her back. She felt attraction to Martha, but she also felt overwhelmed, as if she were somehow dishonoring Linda. Linda’s beautiful eyes and hair and mouth … Bess felt dizzy.
Bess rode back to her homestead thinking about how attracted she felt to Martha. She realized that she had felt the same sort of immediate attraction when she met Linda. Linda. Again the thought of Linda’s warm touch, her embrace, and the intimacy they had shared together flowed through her mind. With her it seemed that they were deeply connected—mind, body and spirit. What is happening to me? she wondered.
Bess went to bed and fell asleep trying to sort out her feelings.
Chapter Thirteen
In three days, Martha would be visiting, and Bess was excited. After she’d invited Martha to her home, she felt like she was spinning in c
ircles trying to get things done.
Late Friday afternoon while Bess was feeding Annabel in the shed, she’d found a new visitor—a rather large bull snake, a harmless and non-venomous creature that seemed to have a rather nasty disposition, with a ferocious hiss. Bess knew that was just a bluff and she left the snake alone. It was no threat to the chickens, which were past the “chick” phase, and they didn’t seem to be afraid of the snake. Annabel just ignored it.
Bess had learned back in Cando that bull snakes were excellent at killing rodents like mice and gophers. Papa even said that they had a bull snake at the grain elevator. So Bess welcomed the snake’s company and named him “Hiss,” because that’s what he seemed to be saying to her all the time. She had also heard, but did not know for sure, that bull snakes were deadly enemies of rattlesnakes and could actually kill them. Bess hoped that was true, and in any event, the idea gave her some degree of comfort.
Bess had also decided to go pheasant hunting on her property in the brush over by the Grand River. As the owner of property, she could hunt pheasants whenever she wanted to do so. There were a lot of pheasants in the tall grass on the north part of her homestead near the Grand River even for late summer, and Bess was able to exercise her marksmanship by killing two pheasants with her shotgun after spending a couple of hours walking slowly through the brush. She had not yet tried her skills to see if she could get an antelope, but that was certainly on her mind as something to do in the future. It will take more than a shotgun to do that, she thought.
When Sunday arrived, Bess rode Annabel to church where she met up with Martha. They skipped the church service reception and rode back to Bess’s homestead where they put Annabel and Martha’s horse in the shed. When they went into the shed, Bess heard a familiar sound and introduced Martha to Hiss. She was afraid of snakes, but Bess told her about bull snakes and how friendly they could be. Friendly in a snake sort of way, Bess explained, but certainly not a danger to humans. “They just sound mean,” said Bess.
Bess: A Pioneer Woman's Journey of Courage, Grit and Love Page 12
