By the time Joe pulled his mules to the door to unload his wagon, it was sleeting. His life had never looked more hopeless as he brushed the icy hay from the tattered quilt covering the children’s burning faces. Though it was unchristian, he’d half-hoped to find them already dead from the fever, solving his problem of how to care for them. He struggled to get them into the cold cabin. Laying them gently on his bed and covering them, he was able to rouse each enough to get a bit of water down. Setting the cup to the side, he moved on the fireplace to uncover the banked ashes, put a stick or two next to the backlog, rekindling the fire. At least they wouldn’t die of thirst of cold. That’s all he could do for them for the moment.
He hurried in with the provisions, the pathetic mercy the town had shown, leaving to get his horses tended. Rushing through his tasks, he miserably returned to the burden of the sick children fate had forced upon him. Upon entering the cabin, sight meeting his eyes nearly undid him. A filthy, battered woman dressed in rags was cradling the little girl, tenderly spooning her milk , catching droplets and spooning them back. God in Heaven! Would this nightmare never end? Had he buried the woman alive and now she’d crawled out of the grave?
I trailed my dad when I was a little kid. A man came to visit one day. He and Daddy dawdled by his truck talking before the man left. Bored, I dropped down to inspect his tires. It was the first time I’ ever noticed valve stems. I took off the top of the valve stem and pressed the probe in the center with a nail, releasing all the air. I enjoyed it so much, I started on the back tire. I had it nearly deflated as well before they noticed what I was up to. He had one spare, but the two of them had to take turns pumping the other tire with a hand pump before he could leave.
i’ve seen happier men.
My adorable three-year-old niece had just gotten in from church. While still dressed in all her Sunday finery, Though we were gathering for Sunday dinner, she took time out of her busy day to examine Chester, their patient Lhaso Apso. Deftly rolling him on his back, she parted the hair on his belly, announcing to all those present, “Well, Chulster’s thing is growing. He’s just got so much hair you can’t see it.!”
What a relief! The dinner guests had all been so worried!
“These young’uns is got scarlet fever. You ain’t leaving ‘em for this town to deal with. Jist take ‘em on back where you come from.” The sheriff steadfastly refused responsibility for the children. Continue reading
I guess Spring is really here. Aunt Betty called. She just checked out eight hens and one rooster from the chicken library where she lives up in Kansas. The rooster hangs out with his favorite hen, so Aunt Betty named them Bonnie and Clyde. I guess it’s not really a chicken library, but that’s how it works for Aunt Betty. She has a deal worked out with one of her neighbors to get chickens in the nice weather, returning them for the winter. She has the pleasure of chickens and eggs without the misery of over-wintering them. What a great neighbor!
Bud is a good man, but I can’t live with him when he’s hungry. I have no doubt he’d lay down his life from me, but I do believe he’d rather I ran around with another man than cook around on him. Anyway, I digress. At five p.m. Today, it occurred to me I’d never made it to the grocery store today. I had an egg plant, half a pound of ground sausage, 1/2 cup leftover brown gravy, and half a cup of frozen seasoned bread crumbs. I sautéed half a diced onion and some fresh garlic and the sausage. To the mix I added chopped eggplant, while cooking the shelled out eggplant in the microwave for two minutes. I seasoned the mix with salt, pepper, parsley, Tony Zacharie’s Cajun Seasoning, sprinkled with Feta cheese and baked at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. It was excellent served with home canned green beans. I am still married.
Thanks Author S B Mazing for challenging me to join her Five Photos, Five Stories. This is just the type challenge I love. It stimulates me to do what I want to do. I will be writing a series based on vintage photos. This will eventually become a book. I have four others in front of it. Who knows if it might push itself further up the line? I don’t know the story behind this photograph since it came from an estate sale. I just love it. It hangs in my writing room. I know I am not telling the true story, but at least I am giving my friends a voice. Now, the best part, I’d like to challenge Mom, at Maybe someone should write that down to join me. I just love her stories and pictures!
Hard Time Marrying
Their union had a bleak start. Meeting at the train in the freezing rain, she clutched his letter. They married minutes later at the preacher’s house, barely speaking as they shivered the two hours home in his open wagon. In her letter, she’d not mentioned the two little ones, though with all fairness, the marriage was only one of need on both parts. They were proof she could bear the children he hoped for. Burning with fever by the time they got to his homestead; dead by the next sundown, she left him with two little ones he had no taste for. Barely reaching his knee, they toddled mutely in perpetual ,soggy diapers dragging to their knees, uttering gibberish only they understood. As soon as he could get her wrapped in a quilt, he buried this stranger wife and headed back to dusty Talphus, Texas with the sad burden of her orphaned little ones. The church or the town would have to do for them. Loading them in a snug in a bed of hay, wrapped in a ragged quilt, hay heaped over them. he pitied and grieved for them on the long trip back to town, knowing the hard life they faced. Stopping several times to make sure they were warmly covered, he was relieved to find them pink and warm.
He hardened his heart against them, knowing only too well the life they were facing. He’d never known family, just been passed from hand to hand.
to be continued
Two good ole fellers was walking down the road when they come across an arm . Mike ran up and looked it over.
“Hey, this here looks like Joe’s arm.” John joined him, giving it a look. “Yep,it’s Joe’s arm, all right. Look at that watch.”
Walkng a bit further, they found a leg. Mike noted. “Looky here. I b’lieve this here’s Joe’s leg.”
Yeah, it is. This is Joe’s boot.” agreed John.
Continuing on, they come up on a torso in a jacket. The boys checked it over. “Now I know this is here is Joe’s jacket. Look at the name over the pocket. Ain’t nobody else got a jacket with Joe’s name on it.
About a half a mile on, Mike saw a head on the side of the road. He took off running. “I b’lieve that’s Joe. Picking up the head, he shook it. “Joe, Joe! Are you okay?”