Homestead Lonely and Alone

On hand braced her tired back, the other raised to shade her eyes                                                      squinting at the fence to nowhere and cobalt cloudless skies

The waiting was a daily chore; her skirt entwined bare legs and feet                                                    Like a sentinel she watched for him to make her life complete

He was the stockman, whistling at doggies, and slapping his chaps with a lariat                                    He passed her school of brown skinned kids, and on that day their eyes met

Then later that year he bought two bags each of flour, beans and rice                                                      and went to her school "Would you wed me and share my homestead Mam, that would be mighty nice."

So, she traded her dreams for a prairie flat, and section of dry thirsty land.                                                That begged for moisture almost more than her cracked and callused hands 

Today she pulled the galvanized tub beside the lean-two home                                                                and scrubbed on the washboard in rhythm and hummed, all alone

The washboard read Saginaw, Memphis number eight-hundred and one.                                                  She dragged the tub with the cool as it moved and raced to beat the sun

Clothes flapped on the line, and the old windmill whined, as hot dusty wind blew                                  and she wondered who might have washboard, number eight-hundred and two 

No longer could she climb on Old Bessie's back and travel bumping into to town                                    So patiently sat vigil and told tales to the little one kicking beneath her gown

With the setting sun she needed to see him riding along the cedar post fence                                        The pains came and went getting harder and fear masked her countenance

But he didn't come, and she couldn't wait, so went down the trail by the rusted gate                          Seven sum miles and she walked all the way to the neighbor's house at the end of the day 

She got to the home as the labor was done, then sat on the steps and she bore him a son                       He found her there after riding the range; and looked at the babe and he vowed to change,

So, he went into town and bought three bags each of four beans and rice                                                  and said, "Thank you Lord, my family's mighty nice.  

(1927 Ruth Fuller was the school arm at the Moccasin Indian Reservation on the Arizona strip when she met Harold Hanrion. This true story was told to daughter-in-law Patricia, the wife of her youngest son Patrick who was the only one of her five boys born in a hospital. Not long after that Ruth gave Patricia her old washboard; Chicago, Saginaw, Memphis #801)