We are all going to Tucson tomorrow to buy shingle stock and roofing lumber and get Harland some shoes if we can find the Sing family, and best of all, to buy a stove or order one if the dry goods store has to send east for it. I have been elected to write another letter to Jimmy Reed and Miss Ruthanne MacIntosh and let them know where we are settled on a claim in Arizona Territory, so that if they ever are down our way after they marry to stop in, and I drew a picture map of how to find us. I will mail the letter in Tucson and Savannah has written to her folks again too, and finally Harland has made a letter to Rudy and he drew a zebra he copied from the Animal book on it.
March 18, 1882
We went to the dry goods store to get some stores and a bit of yard goods for some curtains. We got a new pick handle and some rifle shells and two tin buckets. The man there who is Mr. Fish said we would need lots more as there was talk of trouble near us and some bad Indians called Apaches. So I took two extra boxes of rifle shot and made sure we had some that met with our rifle barrels.
He kept asking over my head to Albert did he want something else, and finally Albert said, Just give her the bullets she asks for, and that made me feel proud.
Mama said to me, Sarah, get yourself some of that light blue cotton there for a dress, so I asked the price but he wanted twelve cents a yard and that is too much. Then out of the blue, I asked him did he have anything called scarlet velvet.
He looked at me real strange and said, We surely don’t carry anything in that color.
So I said, Fine, I just wanted to know what color that meant anyhow.
He looked at me even stranger then, and said, Why you’re just a girl, ain’t you? and It’s red, girl, red! Like I was a fool. Well, I felt like a fool but I wasn’t going to let the likes of that man get to me, not after all the things I held up my head for. And I knew I wasn’t no woman in a red dress nor a fool either one, so I looked him in the eye real straight and didn’t blush at all.
Mama was behind me again, and whispered, Sarah, I got some money put back you didn’t know about and you really need a new dress. How you going to catch a husband wearing patched yellow gingham? Get yourself that blue if you want it and wear it to town next time.
I told her I might, but first I asked the man if he had a Godey’s book or a Sears and Roebuck new.
Albert and Harland both is getting tired of this lady stuff, but not Savannah, so the men went to discuss Indians with Mr. Fish, and we opened up the Sears and Roebuck for a look at dresses and corsets and such.
Finally, there is a picture of one styled sort of fine, with rows of little buttons. Much too grand to wear around a pecan orchard. The dress costs twenty-nine dollars and is suggested to be worn with their shaper number 4401. Probably I will never have a dress like that, but I would be proud to wear it. And then I see at the bottom it is made of thirteen yards of lavish velvet in plum color with lavender flounces or dark blue with white flounces. Imagine two colors, and Velvet. Imagine having twenty-nine dollars to spend on a dress, too.
Savannah said Well, all that is just too fancy, and people would stop seeing the real beauty of a person which is their spirit and good and simple ways, it was putting on a show. I ’spect she saw my face because she looked real sorry right away, and said, But it is beautiful, although you do not need to wear a dress like that, people will know you are good by your good and simple ways. I tried to smile, and I closed the book. And I took a deep breath and asked Mr. Fish for seven yards of blue and some thread.
It is the first time Savannah ever made me feel bad. I can’t tell her I don’t want to be good and simple and have simple ways, it would hurt her and she wouldn’t understand feeling this way, she is too good. I want to wear scarlet velvet and slippers and lace gloves and ride in a stage instead of wearing calluses on my hands driving a team like a man. It is not her fault. She is right. The Lord looks on the inside, although people look on the outside.
That man is measuring cloth and Mama said loud, Eight yards, make it eight, sir, please. This is a waste of money, I know, but suddenly I feel as if they are feeling sorry for me somehow, and that I should be thankful for wearing a brown skirt and a patched blouse and being simple. I can’t wait until we are out of this store, and I can hardly look at this material even though it is for me and it is nice, but I feel low.
We have searched the streets and do not see any sign of a cobbler shop at all. Maybe the Sings have moved on somewhere but we asked around and there is no one who will say they know them. We tried one more time all the way to the far west end of Pennington street which is a bad looking area hard against the old walls of the presidio, but all the Chinese we meet either turn away or try to sell us things, they will not listen to us or act like they know what we mean. Harland is disappointed but we will go back to the dry goods and get him some boots from the catalog.
All together it was a long day and we are camped in our wagon and sleeping on the ground just like before. It is strange to camp with a town so close by, but lonely too, as we are used to camping with a crowd of folks and soldiers. I will be glad to head for home tomorrow and wait for word from Ernest.
March 19, 1882
As we were pulling out this morning we passed by the Army fort and there was a little crowd of Indians near there sort of camping as if they lived there and weren’t afraid of the soldiers nor intending to make trouble for them. We came right up against one wall and I could hear a bugle blowing and it sets me to remember all the days of our wagon trip and the soldiers a mustering around the flag every day. It is a kind of lonesome sound, a bugle in the dark before dawn.
Albert stopped the wagon just at the gate which was open, and there were some lines of men saluting in front of one on a horse. The fellow on the horse saluted them back and then caught his eyes this way and squinted at us real hard in the half light and looked sort of familiar. Then Albert chucked the reins and we headed out. The cold hurts my face so I have got my shawl wrapped around up to my nose and I’m curled up out of the wind as much as possible. I wonder if that was that Captain Elliot. All the way home it was too cold to talk, and my mind was busy anyway. I kept thinking about that Duchess of Warwick woman, wearing a red dress and longing for something or someone over the sea. And I thought about her longing for her sweetheart and about how Savannah longed for Albert when he and Mama were gone just a couple of days. Then I thought about kissing a fellow and wondered how it was, and about getting babies, too. Pretty soon I drifted off to sleep.
March 26, 1882
I like the smell of the wooden house in the rain. The hot stove inside and the cold wet outside makes the walls sweat and a little sap is coming down in ribbons. Mama is roasting a fat turkey I shot yesterday, and Savannah put on a pan of cornbread for dressing and she found wild sage just yesterday to season it.
I was laying out our old patterns on the blue cloth for my new dress, but Mama said wait, she wanted to do some thinking. Well, she had some ideas about making a little flounce on it to pretty it up some, and she whispered to me that Savannah likes her clothes plain because she was raised Quaker and we don’t have to be afraid of a little ruffle because it can make you feel good to wear a pretty dress. Then she told me a story about a dress she had when she met Papa and a basket supper he took her to and things I never heard about before. I never before pictured her being a young girl and wanting a pretty dress and sitting with young men at a basket supper.
March 27, 1882
I have never been so cold as last night. I pushed my blankets next to Mama and squeezed Harland up next to us both. I kept thinking I was freezing to death, and even the rocks we took from the stove have gotten cold long before morning. I dreamed again about sleeping with arms around me and this time in the dream I knew it wasn’t just any old arms but Captain Jack Elliot’s. When I woke up I found Harland’s hand had dropped over on my head like the Captain’s was, and I felt stunned. I kept thinking about this for a long time, but did not reach any decision nor feel whether it was go
od nor bad. Maybe I ate too much turkey and dressing. I’m sure that’s it.
March 28, 1882
We have an unexpected visitor. It is that Captain Elliot from the Army fort. I thought maybe he came to bring me my book but he says no, and even though I said I’d trade him Dan or Terry back he says no two more times and he didn’t bring it with him anyway so it will have to wait. That made me mad.
He sat awhile with Albert at dinner, talking about the trees we have planted and just seemed mighty interested in pecan farming, as if it was the one thing in the world he wanted to know more about. Mama kept saying, Sarah, fetch him some coffee, fetch him some water, how about some buttermilk? to me, as if all I had to do in an afternoon was be handy for some thirsty Army captain. Then she whispers to me, Sarah, comb your hair, there is a switch falling out around your face. So I went to do that and sat on the bed and read a book instead.
Then Savannah came to me and said, I wish your new dress was finished, don’t you?
I said there isn’t any hurry in it.
So quick as a flash of lightning, Savannah takes a hairpin from her hair and pins up the loose piece in mine. Come on and join us, honey, she said, Captain Elliot will be leaving before dark.
Well, it can’t be soon enough for me, so if my talking to him will get that man out of here, then I better go set on the porch with them.
It is late at night now, and every time I close my eyes, I hear Captain Elliot’s voice, kind of low and steady, like a song being sung far away. He is always polite to my mama. Must be he didn’t take offense at her acting peculiar before. I noticed although he looked polished and pressed, on the heel of one of his boots was a scrape mark like he had taken a spill or gouged it against a rail or something. All the time he was talking, I watched that scratch on his boot. When he laughed, everyone laughed, as if they couldn’t help it.
I wonder if he will pay another visit. Not that I want him to, but I wonder if he will.
April 30, 1882
We have been busier than ever before. The new chicks have hatched and all the trees are planted. Albert’s arms and back are all muscled out as a blacksmith’s and he has worked like three men day and night to do it, and I am proud of our family when I think of them all. It looks as if we have lost about ten of the trees on the trip, but all told that is a good rate of loss. My dress is almost finished as we are going real slow and it seems real fine. I don’t know when we are going to town again, but I will wear it then.
Mr. Raalle came to visit today and stayed for supper. He said he has built a small one-room house for himself and Melissa, and finally got a well in, although he said using the stream was just fine. Mama told him how streams in the Territory are mostly only good in the winter, and he would be glad this summer he had a well, when the stream was dry as dust. Likely we will have to dig deeper come August anyway.
Little Melissa looked healthy enough but raggedy, and it is clear that Mr. Raalle is doing his level best but she has no mother to comb her hair nor keep her clothes mended and clean. Mama fussed over her a bit and said what a fine girl she was, and would she like to help make some biscuits for supper, so she did and was very happy to have all the motherly attention.
Savannah let me feel the baby kick yesterday and while we were smiling at the feel of it then she hugged me and that little fellow kicked me in the stomach! What a wonderful thing to have a baby. I hope she is not so scared any more.
We have gotten a letter from the Lawrences. They are getting started on their cattle ranch, and have built a house of the limestone there. They have had a tornado, but no damage done. There is no word from Ernest. We hope he is well. I am writing him another letter to Fort Huachuca and one also to Captain Elliot about the purchase of my Duchess of Warwick book.
Mr. Raalle told us he heard in Tucson that Mike Meyers got shot in the head in Tombstone. He challenged some gambler, and although it was against the law to wear a gun in town, the man had a Colt in his belt and plugged Mike without a second thought. Well, I wonder who is shooting that fancy rifle now?
May 9, 1882
We have had a short spell of heat and then cool again and the days are beautiful but the wind blows without stopping. Flowers are blooming everywhere across the land and every day the trees seem to have more and more leaves and flowers too. Mama has continued to stay with us and does not seem to slip away or stare off any more. I asked her did she know she had been a little peculiar since we buried Papa, and she said, Well, yes. But, she said, Sarah you had a hand on everything and all was going well, so I just slipped away. Then when I thought I would lose you, I saw I would have to come back and take hold of things again.
This makes me feel real strange. If I hadn’t gotten so sick would she have stayed touched? And why did she think I had things in hand, didn’t she know I was just driving horses and sleeping with a cocked rifle and haunted day and night with fear and work?
I have been reading and reading many books. I know if I ever get word who they might belong to I should give them back so I am trying to read as much as possible in case that happens soon, but I would be sad to have to do that. I must never forget to be grateful for the gift of these books.
The dogs are going crazy, someone is coming up the road.
May 10, 1882
Well, I was never so surprised to see anyone as Jimmy Reed coming up the road last evening. He trotted up to the house on a big beautiful quarterhorse and hopped off quick, shaking hands all around, and then grinned and looked down real red faced and shook hands formal with Savannah. I guess she is still pretty to fellows even though she is in a delicate condition.
Not only was he coming he said, but he was staying as well. He was driving horses and a heifer and a white-faced bull, too. Jimmy has told us that living in the MacIntosh’s bunkhouse was a trial and he sorely missed Mama’s good cooking, and that Miss Ruthanne has her cap set on the ranch foreman, and did not even once look his way the whole time he lived there.
We understood when he left that they were already promised, but it seems if there was a promise it is forgotten, and his working there was a waste of time. Jimmy took his pay in stock and said he earned extra by working hard and breaking mustangs and such. So now he has a herd almost fifty and needs a good place to run them.
This is a pecan farm, we told him, not a ranch, as without Papa we decided not to run horses, but Jimmy said he wants his own spread anyway, and he has seen some good country on the way.
Jimmy Reed is taller and filled out some from when we last saw him. If the food was that bad, it doesn’t seem to disagree with him, as he is tall as Albert and strong looking and his hair has gotten darker. He sits a horse like he is part of it, and that’s a good sign, Papa used to say. He got his stock put in our little pen for the night and we all stayed up late and talked a long time and then he asked if he could throw down on our floor.
It would be a sight better than the rocks he’s been sleeping on, and no scorpions or rain likely to get on him, he said.
I feel funny sleeping with him in the room like this, and in the dark he says to me, What’s that you’re doing, Sarah? I told him I write a journal of our travel and life and I will put the candle out soon, so he said Good night, and began to snore right away just like he always did when he was a kid.
I remember that sound and now it seems it has been missing all this time but since we were in strange country I didn’t know it.
May 14, 1882
Jimmy has staked himself a section of land near to the Mexican’s spread, their name is Maldonado, and it has some wild and rocky country, but plenty of stream to water his stock. He filed his claim right away. He is borrowing our canvases and made a tent for now. He is building fences and a corral, first things first. Sometimes he eats supper with us, just coming in as if he was family. Sometimes he stays at his place.
Mr. Raalle came over to pass the time and brought us butter and cream and buttermilk from his cows. He said he is learning from the Maldonados about how
to make those adobe bricks and dry them in the sun. He is going to make bricks all summer in the heat and build himself a house. He said it was good to use the land and to learn from those who knew what the land had to offer. I think a cactus fence like the Maldonados have might be a good thing to keep coyotes and bobcats and such from the henhouse, but Albert says it is a bother and he has a fine henhouse already.
May 22, 1882
Harland seems to spend lots of time at the Maldonados’ house as they have seven children. They just play and play hard all the time. I went over there to get him one day for supper and took a bowl of sourdough starter to them. They seemed ever so nice but we did not speak their language at all. Except that rascal Harland has surprised us all and when we asked questions or they talked to us he would say She wants to know if you have a garden, or He says there are lots of baby chicks here this year. It seems he has picked up some Mexican talk from playing with the boys and it makes it nicer to have some talk with them rather than just nodding and smiling.
Mrs. Maldonado led me out to the chicken coop and scooped up some pullets, five of them, and gave them to me and so I asked Harland how do I say thank you and he said it. Pretty soon we had stayed too long and the smell coming from the stove is awful good. We will have to make friends with them and get Mrs. Maldonado to show me how to make it, and get Harland to teach me some words so I can be polite.
I have started to read a book named The Happy Bride. It is all about how a girl should act and what men expect from the girl they want to marry and such. It is a wonderful book and I plan to study it hard and put it to practice. The first thing I must do is become more religious. I will have to learn to be “a righteous example of piety and purity, virtuous to a fault, kind and sharing,” if I am to be the Happy Bride in the book. “Bible study is the first importance in being a wife.” No wonder Savannah is so happy, I am sure she is one of God’s angels here on earth. More than anything else, I think I want to be like her. I will have a lot of work to do to be pious and pure of heart.
These Is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine, 1881-1901 Page 9
