I hear a cougar aways off. Ernest said there’s been track all around and several people have tried to shoot it but no one could say for sure they hit it. No wonder I keep dreaming about a cougar. It is daylight and we are moving but I am still lying on my plank bed which feels as if I have grown roots to it. I am thankful I did not die either from the newmoniea or the mustard plasters. Frost is on the ground and the horses’ noses have ice from their breath.
I am told we have come to Arizona Territory and tonight there will be a meeting and Captain Elliot will talk to folks about where each is going. Mama is a different person, she has taken the reins and drove her team some, and fixes supper and talks sense with Albert and Ernest and Savannah about the tree farm we will have. Ernest has shot a deer and he is so proud he could bust. It turns out he has been wearing Mama’s spectacles and all this time he thought he was a poor shot he has just got bad eyes.
I begged Albert to take me to the meeting and promised I will bundle up warm and hold the hot rocks to my chest. I wanted to go so bad and put up a fuss that Mama finally said She must be better she is getting ornery, she better go. So I wrapped myself up like a huge walking bedroll. Ernest fixed me a plank on two buckets to sit at near the fire.
Captain Elliot starts with saying we are just one day’s journey away from the town of Douglas and some folks claps their hands as that is where they mean to put down. He says from there they will head northwest towards Tombstone and on to Fort Huachuca, then Tucson and Fort Lowell which he says is the Cavalry’s destination. I quit listening and start to watching folks all around. They all look plum ragged from the traveling. There are new widows and orphans, and new Mamas and Papas with no babies any longer, and some without eye sight and some with game legs and limp arms from the battles with Indians and hardships of the journey. Mr. Barston’s three children look pinched and starved still, but they keep on. Mr. Raalle has this pained look of sadness on his face all the time.
Savannah is rounded out enough to show even though it is only a couple of months, and has hitched up her skirts which looks a bit plump on her. Ernest has grown some and is taller than Albert and it has made him limp real hard as now the wooden leg is too short for his other leg. I bet that is why his stump hurts he is forced to jam it down hard because it is too short, and I must remember to tell him to start over and fix a new tall one. It is as if all this time I’ve been sick, folks and things been changing, or maybe they changed before, but since I thought I would never see the sun again they look new to me.
February 11, 1882
I do not want to go to Tombstone at all but we are bound to follow Captain Elliot although he says we are not obliged to go into town but to camp outside as he needs to send a telegram ahead to Fort Huachuca. He says it is a Mexican word when I asked him. As we go on I hear a train whistle in the evening and it sounds mournful and lonesome. I wonder what it is like to travel safe and fast in an iron box away from Indians and cougars.
Captain Elliot came by our fire tonight and asked how I was doing.
I asked him did he think trains were a safe way to travel, and he shook his head. It is safer from things like snakes on the ground, he says, but not from the two legged kind. And there has been train robbery and something called derailments which happens when robbers tear up the tracks just to tip it over and kill the folks and rob gold shipments and payrolls and such. Then he said Glad to see you up and about Miss Prine, and left. And although I don’t like him I felt like I wanted him to stay and talk longer.
I wonder why he doesn’t smoke cigars any more.
February 14, 1882
There is a little valley here with rocky ground on one side and soil on the other. We have got a land patent map from the government office in Douglas and are all talking hard about putting stakes down near this stream. We passed some mining settlements but they were places of rough and coarse folks and hard living and didn’t want any part of that. There is a Mexican family living near the road and they know enough of our language to say we are welcome to settle here.
The stream is called Cienega Creek, and runs the length of this valley where there is sycamore and live oak and cottonwood and birch so thick in some places a lizard couldn’t squeeze between them. Other places have cactus and scrub brush. There is water plenty, and some hills all around and mountains distant, and so we think it may be a good place for planting our pecan and fruit orchard. Seems we will not head up north to our old place, as we probably don’t have enough to buy it back and don’t know if it is for sale.
I will write a note to Jimmy Reed and tell him we are back and ask is our place for sale from the folks who bought us out, and to send back word quick before my brothers have every last tree in the ground, and send it to the Tenth Cavalry at Fort Huachuca. That way Ernest will get it and know where we are to let us get the letter. I hope Jimmy has learned to read some but I know Mr. MacIntosh can read fine, so I will say hello to him in the same letter because he will likely be reading it to Jimmy and Miss Ruthanne if they are already married.
Mr. Raalle seems so kind hearted and just as I am thinking I will miss him and little Melissa, he says he will settle nearby, down in the lower flat area there, and try to raise some milk cows and beeves. We are glad to be shed of the Meyerses and hope never to have the likes of them near us again, and just as glad to have Mr. Raalle close by as he seems like a good, even handed neighbor.
It seems we are putting down in this little rocky corner by the stream where the stone will make a footing for a house.
February 15, 1882
The Army is back from Tombstone and today the soldiers are pulling away with the rest of the few wagons who will go on to Tucson and most of them except the Mormons want to stay there. Maybe those sisters will get tired of traveling and stay too, and find them each a husband but I will likely never know.
Captain Elliot asked Ernest again was he bound to join up and Ernest said yes sir, and so he will go along with them but will ride a dead soldier’s horse and gear. That is fine with me since as long as I am staying on this earth I would just as soon keep Rose with me.
I told Ernest to be sure to measure up his leg and make himself a new one and he said that was a good idea. It was sadder than ever I knew to say goodbye and fare well to Ernest. He looks so determined and not sad to go, but he promised he will return and will write some.
Captain Elliot came to me with a little package wrapped in brown paper and twine and said since I had saved the Army money by taking care of those horses he felt obliged to return half the buying price. Well, this is pure nonsense I know, but I could tell by the feel of the package it was a book so I took it gladly. No matter which book it was I wanted the other one so bad I could have slapped him.
I waited until he rode off, and then a thought struck my mind that I have not been entirely thankful for the blessings that we do have. I could still catch up with them easy alone on a horse but not with a wagon, so I got on Rose’s back and rode gentle after them until I caught up with them. When he saw me he turned right out of the column and rode to meet me.
I still had the book in my hand, wrapped up. Captain Elliot, I forgot to say thank you, I said. He looked real puzzled at that. I straightened up kind of proud and said, Thank you for keeping us safe, and for protecting my mama and Savannah from an awful fright, and, then I couldn’t think of just the right words for a bit. So I took a deep breath and said, And, for protecting them from hurtful rumors.
Well, what do you know but he smiled and this time I could tell it, and he lifted his hat and said real grand, At your service, Miss Prine! I put out my hand like I know fellows do to shake hands, and he real quick took off his glove and took hold of it, staring at my hand like there was something written on it. He didn’t shake hands at all, he just sort of held on, pressing my fingers real gentle, until his horse shifted its feet and pulled us apart. He started to reach into his coat for something, and he got a soft look around the eyes. He quit smiling and took his hand out o
f his coat, and nodded, like we were making some quiet agreement or something. Then he saluted me and rode off to catch up with the others. Likely I will never see that man again, but somehow, that doesn’t make me feel as good as I thought it would.
I sat on Rose and tore open that wrapping, hoping with all my might that it would be the Scarlet Velvet Lady book so I could find out what happened to her. It wasn’t. It was the Animals of Africa. Although I am tickled to have it back, I am sure I would have been happier to let him keep this one. I must mail him a letter some day when I get six bits to rub together and ask to buy The Duchess of Warwick back from him.
For the first time since last July, I don’t feel any longer like we are heading into a bad wind and bound for trials and heartache.
February 20, 1882
We have made up a tent from two canvases from the wagons and a blanket in the middle. Albert and Savannah have one room and Mama and Harland and I sleep in the other. I am still weak and they won’t let me do much but cooking and cleaning since it is so cold. Everyone has walked the length of the land hereabouts but me, and they all do much talking about where to put stakes or stack rocks for markers and how much land does it look like we should get.
They have dug some holes to see how the soil is and how far down there is water, and so far, there is one hole ten feet deep for a well but it was still dry. One more day of digging and they were down five more feet and hit rock but it was wet. So the next day Albert took off his shirt and shouldered a pickaxe and broke up that rocky ledge, and went down another eight feet, and he was standing in water! He dug as deep as he could and not drown, and it seemed like good water. We covered the hole with a few planks to let it settle before we took some to try. That should keep the dogs from falling in or Harland.
It was decided Albert and Mama should drive right away to Tucson to file our claims, that way there are two heads of the house and we can get two claim patents of six hundred and forty acres each. They expect to be gone three days all told and will leave at sun up. Savannah and I fixed them up with stew and loads of biscuits and beans, and we will stay here and try to make the place homey and wait their word.
February 21, 1882
Harland was out fishing, so we swept out the tent and set up a wash tub inside and heated water up in the big kettle that hangs over the fire tenders. Savannah and I had ourselves a nice long bath and washed our hair. I asked Savannah how she feels to be expecting, and she says mostly it is real nice. It must be nice to be so happy wanting a baby and married. Suddenly, she began to cry, and then just as sudden, she stopped crying but told me she wants her own mama with her when the baby comes and she is happy but scared, too.
We took a stroll down the stream bed out of Harland’s hearing. We startled a covey of quail, and they fluttered, making little chick noises as they drifted to the other side of the stream. Sarah, Savannah said to me, will you help me when I have the baby?
Surely I will, I told her. I don’t know much what to do, though. Do you know about babies? I said.
It’s real natural, she said. She squeezed my arm and said, My Mother always told us girls the main thing to think about is not being afraid, and to remember the precious little one you will have when the travail is over.
Then I felt inclined to ask her some more things, and I said, You know, I heard some women in the wagon train say the very same thing, only they weren’t talking about having the baby, they were talking about getting it.
Savannah just looked at me and blushed hard. Then she looked way off into the woods by where we had walked. And she said in a low voice, That’s not so bad, Sarah. It’s, it is, I find it, rather nice, and she cleared her throat.
Really? I said.
Sh-sh, she said, and made a little smile. You will know when you have a husband. Didn’t your mama ever tell you about those things?
No, I said, feeling clumsy. She just says what a girl needs to know the Lord will teach her. Only, I keep waiting, and asking Him about some things which I don’t understand, and He isn’t in any hurry to shed the light on them.
Oh, Sarah, said Savannah, laughing, only it wasn’t mean laughing, it was like she cared about me. You will know some things by heart, if you marry for love. Sometimes I find myself a little frightened, carried away by my own passion, which I have been taught all my life to subdue. But the Lord said that marriage is holy, and the marriage bed undefiled. So there is no wrong in it, like some people think.
Does it hurt? I said real soft.
Savannah sucked in a breath and looked up at the leaves over us. Well, she said, only the first time. But not so bad. Not as bad as skinning your knee on a rock. You’ve done that haven’t you?
More than once, I said. What is it you’re supposed to count?
What? she answered me.
I told her Mrs. Lila Duncan in the wagon train said she counted more of something on her ceiling than stars in the sky. Only I never did hear it clear and I wasn’t supposed to be listening, so I couldn’t ask her to speak right up and repeat it.
Then Savannah laughed again and hugged me. You don’t have to count anything, honey. She was just saying that she keeps her mind occupied away from what is happening. But if you love your husband, you don’t have to keep your mind busy. It’s just a special time. A close time.
What is? said Harland’s voice real nearby. He was on the other bank of the stream where he had crossed on a fallen log.
So I told him, Why, the time you skip a rock at your brother real close and splash him good, and I picked up a flat one and skimmed it just right so his pants got wet around the bottoms. Then he threw a big stone in and splashed us both, so we ran away laughing and he chased us a bit, and then he decided he would fish some more.
February 23, 1882
Harland got up and acted peevish this morning and I don’t know why. He complained about breakfast and wouldn’t eat it, and wouldn’t wash his face and ran off mad. Pretty soon he was back and said he wanted to go fishing, but he wanted a horse to ride, not to walk. Well, he whacked one of my big horses, Dan or Terry he doesn’t know which he says, for trying to bite him and it kicked him in the leg and bit him too, and he came in bawling. He was really upset and I just can’t find out why he is acting so bad, it just isn’t like him to be such a bother to us.
I asked him would he help us plan the house we will build and he said No, I don’t want to live in your stinky old house anyway, and that made me really mad. But just as I was raising my hand to slap him, he hollered out he wasn’t living in any house, because Mama and Albert aren’t coming back they were killed by Indians and eaten by bears.
Well, Savannah burst out crying at that and so did Harland! I was standing in the middle of two crying people and didn’t know which one to comfort first, so I took them both by the hand and marched us all outside and just kept going and going until we were up on a high place above the creek bend.
As we got there I began to say, Here’s where I want to live, you hear? We are going to put a house here and windows out every side and a front porch built up so’s we can sit of an evening and see the road in case Ernest comes home from the Cavalry to visit. I held their hands tight and walked a square off, and said, Here’s Harland’s bed, and here’s mine, and here’s Mama’s, and This is a room here for Albert and Savannah and it must be big for the baby too, then when their house is finished, Mama and I will share the big room and Harland can have his own all to himself if he wants. Here’s the stove and be careful! I jerked Harland’s arm, You are about to get burned it is really hot and almost red! Then I said Smell real hard and smell Christmas gingerbread men in that stove, and smell peach preserve simmering in the summertime. Harland, I said, shoo those flies off that sweet butter cake and smell that ham and corn fritters! Pretty soon we were all laughing and everyone was cheered some.
Then we got serious and started moving some rocks and making markers in the corners of the house, and Harland used a stick on the ground and cut a line for the rooms
and the stove and where the table would go, and Savannah and I did the same and lined out a garden plot and where we would put some pole beans and pumpkins and watermelon and kale and carrots.
Harland said Oh, don’t plant nasty old carrots, I hate ’em, but we just laughed. Supper time came and we lit a lantern just as the sun was going down. Suddenly, Bear and Toobuddy jumped up and took off down the road barking loud.
Pretty soon we heard them coming back along with the squeak of wheels, and there was Mama and Albert on the wagon seat, calling out hello!
They have got our patents filed and we have two fine claims, and they have got the wagon loaded with lumber and a keg of nails and some strips of lead flashing for the roof, and Albert bought a new draw splitter for making shingles. It was a good evening and we all talked about our plans until late. It will take a few years of living on the land and then it will be ours.
March 14, 1882
We have the beginning of a house put up. We have had a visit from a bear and Albert fired a shot at him but he thinks he missed. Even though there is no roof on top we have pitched our tent on the floor boards and it is good to sleep on something besides rocky ground. At the same time we are trying to build a house, it rained for three days and then cleared and feels like spring.
Albert is spending all day on the house and in the field, and making Harland help him dig holes and plant the trees. Some of them have little buds on them from the warm weather. We put the peaches and apples and pears closest to the house, and lined the pecans in rows down the way. Albert said it is a good thing that it rained as he can see the flow on the land and how the trees will best get watered, and how to make a flood bank at one side to drive the water where he wants it.
These Is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine, 1881-1901 Page 8
