These Is My Words: The Diary of Sarah Agnes Prine, 1881-1901

by Nancy E. Turner

  Never in my days would I have expected to have a picnic with Captain Elliot on the grass at Carillo Gardens and watch April chase ducklings whose mamas quacked at her all afternoon. He leaned on one elbow and ate my fried chicken and then bought us lemonades and buñuelos and fed half of his to a goose just to watch April squeal and giggle at it. Then she fell asleep, lying on his lap while I was re-packing our basket and we were quiet as the afternoon warmed. Suddenly I looked at him and he was shaking all over, laughing inside.

  What is so funny? I whispered.

  He looked at me with that mean look and pointed at April asleep on his lap and said, Does this run in the family?

  Well, I was furious, and just had to leave and walk around to keep from waking up April. I suppose he just laid there and watched me go, but I walked clear around the pond before I could settle down. Ornery, no account. Mama was right it is never any good to mess with soldiers, they are a sorry bunch and I was real peeved I had bothered to waste my time with the likes of that man all afternoon when I could have been shopping with my soap money. And I still had blueing to buy and a hotel room to take and I wanted to leave this park and now.

  I went back to get my things, and sat on the grass and began to pick up the rest of the picnic.

  He was lying stretched out long with his hat over his eyes and one hand on April’s little head, and he said, without looking up, Where’d you go?

  Well, I was mad, and still am.

  He grinned real big and said, You weren’t mad, you’re embarrassed. If you were mad you’d have taken your stuff and your baby and left. I tried to tell him he was wrong, and he just kept grinning. He said, You think I don’t feel like a plucked chicken in front of you, after you pulling me out from under that horse and all?

  That’s different. I know it is. It’s not like he could lose his reputation for being rescued from an accident.

  Then he lifts his hat a little and peers at me from under it. Seems to me, he says, we’re both the rescuing kind. He put his hat back down and said, Anyway, that’s not such a bad trait in a person, and you’ll never lose your reputation from anything I say about you, I guarantee.

  I didn’t say anything, I just sat there, pondering it all.

  He starts grinning again and says, Besides, it was the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had!

  And I threw the tablecloth on his head and he commenced to shaking all over, laughing silently.

  After a bit, I had things packed in the wagon, and he gently set April down, still sleeping, on the bunched up tablecloth and got up to his knees and leaned on his heels and faced me. Let’s see, he said, How does it go? Wash your face and hands, and be a good sport and tip your hat? What else is required of a gentleman friend? Oh, yes, bring flowers and be kind to her Mama? He was smiling so sweetly and not grinning like he was laughing, and I couldn’t help it, I felt my face turn red and hot.

  So I said, Captain Elliot, I am recently a widow and am not receiving suitors and do not expect to in the future. Something caught in my throat and felt like I was choking. I said, I have a child to raise and a ranch to run, and I’ve got to make some money to pay my hands and make it ’til the fall when I can sell some horses. In my head I was thinking I don’t know how I’ll do it because they won’t let a woman in the trading corral, and Albert will have to, but it will be the first harvest time he’ll have, and besides, it was the first time I thought that I owed the Maldonado boys for their help and I had been selfish.

  His face got serious. Mrs. Reed, you take a lot of chances, and you stand up to them all. Why not take a chance on me? You can see I’m widely admired by both dogs and children, he says, real grand, And I ask you, is that not a fair recommendation?

  I shook my head. A soldier is not what I want to hook up with anyway, least of all a smart alecky one like this, and I need to get to a hotel, and get home, and make some more soap to sell. I meant it, I told him, I’m not interested in suitors, not anyone. Not ever.

  And I felt burning tears flood into my eyes and turned my head from his hard gaze.

  Captain Elliot would not leave well enough alone, and although any real gentleman could have seen I had had quite enough of his company, as further proof of his poor character that man saw nothing of the sort.

  Kneeling there in the grass at the park, I started to tear up, feeling stiffened and shamed, and wanting to sniff back tears like a baby. And he took liberties and touched my arm and made me look him square in the face. For a while we kneeled and faced each other as still as two posts in a fence line, until April woke up and came over to me. Just as she did a tear drop that had been blurring my sight rolled onto my face.

  She said, Mama got owey? in her baby voice, then stood on her little toes and kissed my cheek, and said, Give you sugar, all better! Then the tear filling my other eye spilled out. She poked out one little pink finger and picked the tear off my cheek, examining it on the tip of her finger as it sparkled. She held it toward Captain Elliot and said, Mama got owey?

  He was drilling a hole in my head with his eyes, but he said to April, Yes, honey. Mama’s got owey. Straight through the heart, I’d reckon.

  She tugged on his uniform and said, Give Mama sugar! like it was a command. I couldn’t believe it, I was betrayed by my own baby daughter. Then he got that strange look on his face I recognized by this time, and his mustache tipped up on one side.

  It might be safer for me, he said, and easier, to give old Mr. Geronimo a sugar, right now, Little Bitty. But you give her sugar, plenty. So he picked April up and held her to me and she about choked me hugging my neck and kissing me again and again.

  He climbed up in my wagon without an invitation, and drove us to this hotel on Congress. I was too upset to tell him no. While we drove he told me some long story about a General Crook and trying to get back from some campaign before July Fourth and did I want to go to dinner at Levin’s Gardens and hear the Sixth Army Band and see some fireworks?

  I was too confused to think, and I believe I nodded to him that I would meet him, but now that I am more in my mind, I am sure that I will not be here then, and have no need to spend money for a fancy dinner. Besides, I didn’t say anything, I just nodded, and that doesn’t mean anything as I was addled for a few minutes like Mama and she used to nod all the time and it didn’t mean anything.

  I remember reading about such an unwanted situation in the Happy Bride book, so I will send him a letter and say that if he thinks I have an intention of meeting him in town, he has mistaken my courtesy for friendship, and that a lady does not make such an arrangement, and to please disregard it, or something like that.

  That man makes me feel like I have my bonnet on backwards.

  April 16, 1885

  I started a letter to refuse Captain Elliot’s invitation, but have not had the time to finish it. I will have to see if someone is going to the station soon to take it. Mice or rats have got nearly all the oats, and Jimmy would have a fit if he knew his horses had to go without oats for a few weeks until I can buy them. It seems I forgot all about practical things while in Tucson last.

  Harland said maybe you can order them from the Sears and Roebuck, so he is over here looking hard through all the pages.

  I caught him studying the ladies’ bloomers and corsets, and asked him was he planning on ordering a few, and he turned the page and began to concentrate on farm implements instead.

  I had a long talk yesterday with the Maldonado family about all the work they have done for me and they were at first offended that I would pay them. I figured up I would already owe them each for three months at least, and in most ranches, that’s about a hundred dollars apiece. Even with my soap business there is no earthly way I will see that kind of cash, so it was agreed that they could each have a pick of a horse for past labor, and that they will come only two days, not three, at least until I can sell some stock. Then after the summer is over I will still give them that calf, who is turning into a sturdy looking heifer already. This is not
nearly enough, but I must do what I can.

  They went home leading the two they had chosen, one light-footed mare and a stallion, but I know they purposely did not pick the best horses here. And they did not even glance at Rose, for which I am selfishly thankful. Their Papa felt close to Jimmy because they both loved and knew horses, and I’m sure those boys could have made a better pick, but they are generous to the last. If I could be sure it would only be for breeding, I would have insisted they take the big chestnut stallion that Jimmy rode to his death. He is a beautiful blood line, but I am scared to death one of them would also be killed by him. He has stayed skitterish since Jimmy died.

  April 17, 1885

  Woke up with a cold. April had been fretting and sniffling yesterday, too. This morning I got a real surprise. Ruben Maldonado, who I now know is only eighteen years old and I am already twenty, rode up and asked me if we could talk a while.

  Well, I had a headache and a sick feeling behind the eyes from this cold, but I could see he was very serious, so I said, Of course. That sweet boy asked me to marry him. I still can hardly believe it. He said he works for me for free and gladly, though not because he is generous, but because he is in love. It was the saddest and sweetest thing to see that great big boy say these things to me with such a red face.

  He is a hard worker and genuine and kind, and I know he will make a good husband. But I have no feelings like that toward him at all, no more than I would for my own brother. I should have understood when Jimmy asked me too, some of those same feelings. Maybe we could make a good life together. Ruben is a nice person. But I want to love someone, too.

  I was sure scared of being alone but I know now that I didn’t love Jimmy, and I don’t love Ruben, and being alone isn’t so bad compared. But then I remember Albert kissing Savannah and her all wrapped up in him, and I never in my life have had nor gave such a kiss, and I truly want to have a feeling like they do, like they are hungry for each other.

  Ruben’s face was sad and I knew I had broken his heart, and I cried when he left. It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I would always be his big sister.

  Jimmy has left me this place to run which is too much for me alone, but it is a good ranch and it will only be two more years until I own the whole thing, and then I could sell it and move back to Mama’s, or maybe even go to a big city away from all the killing and trials here.

  I am not so mad at Jimmy any more. I suspect Jimmy would never have loved again like he loved Ruthanne. Maybe she refused him and broke his heart like I broke Ruben’s. We were surely happy enough at first, and maybe we could have made a pretty good life and a fine ranch, and children to fill up this big old house. And maybe we would have just worked ourselves into an early grave and left five or six children with too much to handle here.

  April 18, 1885

  Ruben and Rudolfo came and worked just like they always have. There is no sign on Ruben’s face that his heart is broken, except that when they ask me something or talk, his eyes look a little to the side, not right at mine.

  Mama and Savannah came over yesterday afternoon. Ruben had ridden to their ranch and told them about April’s sickness. Mama brought some cough elixir and horehound syrup, and we gave April a spoon of each, although it was a struggle as she made it clear she was not happy to have the medicine.

  Now, it seems April will sleep. It is cool tonight, and I have placed steaming pans of water around her bed so much that it smells like rain inside the house. It is nice to have just the women to talk with, and no men to hear. We made some soup and cornbread and talked until late, and they will stay the night and leave after sun up tomorrow.

  I told Mama and Savannah about Ruben’s proposal. That got us to talking about marriage and we laughed and cried some, and missed Papa, and it felt good to belong to each other again. I don’t feel as lonely today as I have in months. At least I know there are other women around me. I think my Mama and Savannah must be special people in the Lord’s eyes, as they have gone about doing generous and loving things without even a second thought. For me, it seems like the only thing that comes natural is aggravation and hard work.

  But Savannah hugged me and said, Don’t you change one little bit, we’d never be here if it wasn’t…and then she started to cry, and so did Mama and I just had to join them. I know Mama and her were crying for love, and for all their dear feelings for our families. They don’t know I was crying because they are wrong, because I am not good like them, nor sweet tempered and loving. I was crying because I felt like they didn’t see the real me inside, and if they had they wouldn’t shed a single tear at all over me.

  Sometimes I feel like a tree on a hill, at the place where all the wind blows and the hail hits the hardest. All the people I love are down the side aways, sheltered under a great rock, and I am out of the fold, standing alone in the sun and the snow. I feel like I am not part of the rest somehow, although they welcome me and are kind. I see my family as they sit together and it is like they have a certain way between them that is beyond me. I wonder if other folks ever feel included yet alone. Maybe I am getting addled living out here on this ranch.

  As Mama was ready to leave, she told me she almost forgot she had a letter from Ernest and he said to her to let me know he had thought hard about my wanting him to come run my ranch, but just couldn’t do it, but sent his love and since I was now a widow, he enclosed money he had saved up just for me. Then she gave me a ten-dollar gold piece he had folded into the letter.

  Mama, I said, you take that money and get some flour and coffee or some extra nice things and maybe a piece of yard goods and make a dress for yourself. I don’t need it.

  Mama said, Well, Ernest would be real disappointed if you don’t take it.

  But I said, Not as disappointed as I was that I can’t count on him. I don’t need his money as much as I need his head and hands and muscles.

  Savannah said, Don’t judge him too harsh, he is young and is just trying to help, so I nodded and said I would only think of him kindly, and let Mama put the money into my hand. It does no good to try to explain to someone as good as Savannah just how mean and selfish I am sometimes. I will put the money under the candle holder on the shelf for a rainy day.

  Then Mama pulled the letter out of her pocket and handed it to Savannah, and said, Make sure I don’t forget anything. She said, Ernest also asked if any of us had seen Captain Elliot who was headed back to the Territory.

  I know she saw something funny in my face, and I blushed. Well, I said, I’ve seen a little more of him than I expected.

  At that Savannah squeaked out a laugh like a tickled mouse, and covered her face in embarrassment. I was only thinking of running into him at the depot but when I saw the look in her eyes, well, we all laughed hard.

  Mama said, I declare, you girls are naughty! I will have to turn you over my checkered apron and paddle you both! To go on, Mama said sternly but smiling, Ernest says he holds Captain Elliot in high regard and has wondrous tales of his bravery to tell when next he sees us. So if we happen to make his acquaintance again, we should all welcome him grandly, if only for the love of Ernest and the respect of his men.

  We laughed more and more, and it is the first time I pictured myself hauling Ernest’s hero, naked with a wet diaper on his head, in the wagon, and nursing him without a second thought. Savannah just couldn’t quit giggling. She is not nearly as shy and blushing as she was before. I thought how funny of her to be so righteous and so Quaker and so good natured, and just a bit naughty, too. No wonder Albert thinks she sets the sun.

  April 30, 1885

  Made a batch of soap and tried some different ingredients in each fourth. I boiled some flower petals into a extract and added that to one, some pine sap in another, some other flowers, and then some apple leaves. All of these didn’t work at all and one made the soap runny and it wouldn’t set up.

  It seems it is a day of unusual chores, and I felt restless and in need of more changes. So I dragged the shelves Ji
mmy had made for the pantry over by the parlor window, since they were never full anyway with just little April and me, and began to fill them with books. Then I put my rocker from the bedroom on the other side of the window and a rug in front of the chair. I put up Harland’s picture of a grand house that he drew long ago, and a little colored picture card that Jimmy had brought home from the church meeting he went to in Tucson. That was the same time he brought me our family Bible, which I have on the top shelf. The card is a painting of the Lord Jesus with a lamb in his arms cuddled up close.

  Now it is a fine room, and it is mine. I will spend some happy times there. From where the rocker sits I can see out the window to the road if anyone is coming by, and I can see little blue fingers on the wall and floor. Some folks would scrub and bleach them out, but I think I will only have one baby, and she is bigger now already, so those tiny hands will always remind me of how precious and tiny she looked.

  May 2, 1885

  Wrote Ernest a letter and one to the Lawrence family in San Angelo, and mailed them at the stage station today. The man there said there might be a delay in the mail because of some serious Indian trouble with Apaches, as the Army has lost some men who were guarding the mail shipments and there will be no replacements for awhile.

  I went home and got April ready with some extra clothes and went to visit Mama and Harland and Albert and Savannah. I want to sell some horses off, I told Albert. There are too many for me to take care of. Or, I will trade him horses for a share in the pecan farm.

  Well, he said I already have a share in the pecans, and he wanted to own Jimmy’s big stallion himself, but I told him no unless only for breeding, for that he could have him. I’d never sleep at night knowing Albert was riding that chestnut. We discussed this and Albert never did quite see my side clearly, and insisted Jimmy must have just made a bad judgement, not that the horse was to blame.