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

  He said back that hurrying was important with Indians and bad weather on our heels but that maybe some prayer wouldn’t hurt. Then that Ernest gets to admiring that fellow Mike Meyers’ fancy rifle. It is a long barrel Winchester and got some carved bird dogs on the stock. Mike Meyers begins to brag that he can shoot a tick off a dog with that rifle, and his brother Billy says he can shoot the eye off the tick next. Ernest says, that must be some shooting and tomorrow he would surely like to see some shooting like that.

  Their ma is the one who looked at me as if I was low down, and she says Not on the Lord’s day, but her boys whine and say it is not gambling but just a show of how fine their rifle is so she says okay. Then she says to Mama something about how a mother has to always watch her youngerns don’t she, and Mama just smiled.

  Mama sometimes just looks into yonder and smiles and that was the look she was wearing this evening but Mrs. Meyers nods and smiles back like she knows what Mama is thinking. I am sure she don’t know at all.

  Then that rascal Ernest says he got family that’s a right good shot but not himself, and would they allow some contest. Pretty soon word of this spreads through the camp and then all we hear is soldiers talking about who is a good shot, farmers talking about who is a good shot, their women just roll their eyes. I think this is a way to waste lots of powder and lead because it seems now every man here is about to be shooting ticks off every dog in the country come morning. I think I will hide our dogs Toobuddy and Bear in case.

  All of a sudden Mama says she will hold a Sunday School and to tell all of the children to come tomorrow. Mama has not spoke five words in a row since San Angelo but we all go to bed glad to see her with some spark in her eyes. When I bed down I hear her praying in the dark. It is a good old familiar sound, and as I write this just before I go off to sleep, I think Mama is back with us.

  December 4, 1881

  Sunday morning comes and it is the first clear skies since San Angelo. We got breakfast early and just like she said, Mama got out her Bible and her spectacles and sat to wait for the children. Before long there is a circle of youngerns and she opens the Bible and makes like she is reading to them. I know she has just got the whole thing in her head and can’t really read it, but it is good to hear her voice. After prayers we all went to eat dinner. We are having quail roasted on a spit since it is easy and not too much work for a Sunday meal.

  The Meyers are camped too near us again and they are eating cold mush and sniffing the air as if their noses could eat it. Mrs. Meyers says out loud how she don’t ’low no cooking or working on the Lord’s Day and we just turn our backs. I guess we been through some hard times and all are pretty thin especially Ernest who looks like a stiff wind would send him to the Territories ahead of us all, and if the Lord is going to grudge us a quail for dinner well then that’s that.

  I am smiling that they are sniffing the air so hard and Harland says, Sarah what are you grinning about? but I don’t say nothing.

  Captain Elliot has said that there will be no soldiers firing shots except at his warrant or something like that, meaning they will not waste their shot and powder. He advises us settlers, as he calls us, to do the same. This contest is plum foolishness to me, and I am sorry Ernest got to talking about it, but I feel like Mike Meyers’ boasting must have been more than he could take and boys like to brag to each other.

  Pretty soon the men are setting up some cans and sticks out in a line and about ten or so begin to shoot at their marks. I hear them but I don’t go because I know Ernest ain’t no shot and Albert is busy stitching a patch on his canvas cover. Every now and then Harland comes running up telling us who is shooting what, and Ernest is over there watching, just quiet.

  I have got a line up of shirts and drawers and such drying in the sun in about an hour, and still they are shooting. I can tell they have got more careful now because there is time between each shot to aim and I can feel the air tighten up as they take aim and then bang! the shot, and I can hear if it struck a rock or dirt or a can or just the wind.

  Well, then there is quiet and here comes Ernest up to me. He says Sarah get your rifle, and I made a face at him but I did. I walked up to them folks gathered around and I can see there is a big crowd, almost as big as for Albert’s and Savannah’s wedding.

  Ernest says real loud, Look here, Mike Meyers is betting his fancy rifle that nobody can outshoot him. He done real good so far, but my sister here can drop a Indian riding hell-bent on a bare backed pony in the blink of an eye. He hands me the rifle and I see there is some kind of poison in his eyes and he is not funning he is mad.

  I said to him, This here’s a waste of powder, brother, but everyone is waiting and I wanted to fuss at him but instead I said, What are we shooting at.

  He pointed yonder to a tree and I see Mike has set up a line of little stones on a level branch. He shoots one at a time and five out of six goes down. Some other fellow scoots out and sets up another line of six stones.

  I say to Ernest, Get Albert to do this here, but he says no, take a shot. I don’t like to have all these folks staring at me and there is Mama and Savannah too, and Harland is laughing in his hand. Well, I said out loud, it’s no different to me, but I think I can hit it. I aim and get just air and I hear some folks chuckling.

  Mike Meyers says, Aw this is stupid to shoot against a girl.

  Everyone gets quiet as I aim and I stop for a second and say, Well, I never had no target to sit still for me so maybe I’d just swing around and fire.

  That Mike Meyers laughs at me and his Ma is there looking haughty. So I up with the barrel and fired five times fast and they are all quiet as all the six stones are gone, one broke up and knocked the extra one down with it.

  He says it don’t count if I get two with one shot cause that means I didn’t hit it square and only rickershaysed it off or hit the branch. The fellow sets up four rocks on the branch and Mike shoots all of them down but he takes five shots.

  I asked the fellow putting up the rocks to check if there’s any holes in the branch yet and he says no, but when he puts up my rocks there is one that is a little speck of a pebble and half as big.

  Just as I lift the rifle Mike shouts in my ear, Don’t get nervous girl! real loud and I have to wait while everyone makes some noise. Well, then I whipped up the barrel again and let go four times and dropped all four rocks. You could see them flying out past the tree and even where they hit the ground. Just as I shot the last one Mike lets out a Indian war whoop and something in my insides turned cold and scared and before I know what I’m doing I turned fast at the noise and draw a bead on his head.

  People all around suck in their breaths and I put it down feeling sheepish. That war whoop is a sound makes me know I have to fight and he didn’t know that but he nearly found out. Then out of the silence I hear one man laughing at the whole thing. It is Captain Elliot who has been watching it all.

  Then soon it’s everyone laughing and cheering and saying Mike give her the rifle. Well, he was sorely put out to do that, but he hands it over to me and I looked at the pretty stock and the metal and the long shiny barrel for a second. I picked it up and aimed it at the tree then hefted it and sighted it and gave it back to him. It is too heavy to aim and too big and ponderous to carry so I say, No wonder you can’t shoot straight, with this big old clumsy thing, and did my best to look down at him.

  He still had his mouth open from being mistook for a Indian and he didn’t say nothing but his Ma sort of growled and says That’s what you get for gambling on the Lord’s Day.

  Everyone laughs and we are all having a good time except the Meyers who all leave in a stew to go eat some more cold mush. Ernest is mad at me for not keeping the pretty rifle.

  December 9, 1881

  Passed five graves yesterday on the trail. Two more today and one was dug up by wolves. Mama cried when she saw that but we reminded her how careful we buried Clover that no wolves could dig his grave. There is a strong wind today and it feels cold d
own through all our clothes. My shoes are about gone but still there is not much to be done. I am going to ask around tonight if there is anyone with a piece of leather goods and I will make myself some moccasins at least to keep the rocks off my feet. We are aways from the rainy place we left two days ago and it is dry and dusty but cold. Ever since the shooting contest folks have been more lighthearted and friendly and I think it makes everybody feel good to see a bragger get his due.

  I have gotten the loan of a fifth grade reader from a family named Willburn for a few days. Their boy Rudy is the one that plays the fiddle so fine so I thanked him again for playing for Albert’s wedding. Savannah has begun to teach school in the evenings and there are at least fifteen children coming every day, and more will be to Mama’s Sunday School.

  I am very troubled that all that shooting wasn’t lady like and I feel embarrassed because some of them soldiers are still talking about who could outshoot me if they had only been given the chance. One of them who is young and fresh mouthed rode up along side our wagon one day and said did I learn to shoot from Doc Holliday and did I know who he was, and that he was a personal friend of his. Across his shoulder I see that Captain Elliot watching this way.

  I turned my head and didn’t look at that boy. Finally, when he left, the Captain sent him to the rear of the line. I didn’t try to tell that boy we just came from the Arizona Territory and know better than to go near a town as bad as Tombstone, and I do know who that Doc Holliday is and I have heard he is the lowest kind of man, drunken and dirty and carrying on with fancy women. I don’t care to know any soldier boy who rode with the likes of that.

  Savannah and I did up the dishes after supper and packed up the pantry real tight, taking stock of all the provisions. Then I said to her, Let’s wash our hair and Mama’s, and she was willing so we set up a kettle to heat on the fire.

  When I took Mama by the hand and led her to the chair where we needed her to sit, she stood in front of it, just quiet and staring. Come on, Mama, sit down, I said.

  She stood there and stood there. We did Savannah’s hair. We did mine. Mama just looked forlorn. Mama, I said. Mama, I called out. Then I took her shoulders and made her look at me and said, Mama, come sit here, please.

  Then I shook her a little, and she looked at me like a hurt lamb, and leaned her face to one side and said, Is it Sunday? Then she went right back to looking out past forever, or wherever she is looking.

  No, Mama, I said. It ain’t Sunday. It don’t have to be Sunday for you to talk. Come out of there. Come back here, Mama. You are acting touched. Then I let go of her arms, and she got tears in her eyes, and blinked and stared, and she walked away and sat on the stool where she had ate supper. I was ashamed for what I just said, and I looked at Savannah and she just looked at me sorrowful. I wanted to throw myself down and cry like a baby, but I just said, I’m going to walk a bit. There’s plenty of time to dry our hair by the fire in a while, and it isn’t even very cold tonight. And I wrapped a long towel around my hair, and I walked and walked, around the camp and through the soldiers. And I looked around at all the people talking and carrying on. Some was laughing and some had crying children they was hushing, and some had gone to bed already. And all of them had their trials I ’spect, but I felt full of meanness at them all ’cause they were all talking and none of them had Mama just staring out yonder. I am surely a low down sort. It ain’t Mama’s fault she has lost her mind. It is only me losing patience.

  Then I went back to our place and sat by Mama and put my head in her lap, and said I was sorry. I tried by wishing and praying to make her recognize me and put her hand on my head, just for a little pat, just a little sign that she could come back if she wanted to. But she just sat there. Tears ran off my face sideways onto her lap. And she didn’t move until Savannah came and said, Mother Prine, come and go to bed.

  December 11, 1881

  Something hit my bonnet, blowing in the wind. It startled me some but I was more startled when I grabbed hold of it. It is a piece of paper, but most important it is a piece of a book. A page from a story. It is page eighty-seven, and starts with, carried far out to sea. And the little boat went on into the gale, and ends with, beautiful woman clutched the letter to her bosom in fear as she saw, and then the page is finished and there isn’t no more. On the other side is a little pencil picture of a big water and a little ship. I have read it over and over, trying to wish the rest of the story out of the page.

  Who would sail away from the woman and what is a gale I do not know. What was in her letter, nor why was she afraid, it does not say. Most likely there is Comanches on the horizon. She has a dress of scarlet velvet and pearls in her hair, and I don’t know what that is either but it must be beautiful and someday I want a dress of scarlet velvet and pearls to put in my hair. I put this page in my cigar box to keep and I think about what kind of yard goods it must be she is wearing called scarlet velvet.

  December 12, 1881

  Captain Elliot had a meeting of everyone tonight and said scouts have seen Indians following us alongside in the hills. They are staying with us but not too close and he wants us to be on guard for attack. Soldiers will post sentries to watch and I figure that means just like we did on the trip out. The Prines didn’t say anything as we are now accustomed to Indian fighting and know what to do and went to load up our rifles and pistols, and keep them close by us. Accustomed is what the scarlet velvet woman was. She was accustomed to her sorrows it said, as she had been accustomed to great riches and fine foods. We are accustomed to Indian wars and sorrows and traveling fast and folks dying.

  December 14, 1881

  Toward noon today with all these wagons making pretty good time for the first time, Captain Elliot has passed the word down we are not to stop for a meal but move on. Maybe some folks are afraid and it has made them move quicker, but still not much compared to a band of Indians on light ponies. Suddenly out of the noise and dust there is a woman’s scream. Everyone pulls up to a stop about as quick as fifty-one wagons can, and there it is again.

  There is no sign of Indians but there is another scream. The soldiers begin to holler to get moving, then the word comes back it is Mrs. Barston’s child coming. Mama and Savannah and I are walking and just as we let our breath out that it is not Indians, we see them on the hillside. No sooner did we spot them than they spotted us, and here they come, that sound of war whoops and yells that makes my insides all cold. There is a confusion and a cloud of dust as the wagons stop and some don’t stop enough and bump each other. Some folks are frightened and begin to whip their team to run away.

  The soldiers begin firing back, and we have no time to circle up as Captain Elliot is trying to make folks do even though they are scared. They just all stand and take it. The Indians ride around and arrows are coming in. The three of us women have taken cover inside the wagon but the pecan seedlings have the whole wagon and there is not much room to hide.

  An arrow hits our wagon and sticks in the hoop under the canvas, and then the canvas is burst into flame. Before we can all think, Savannah has jumped up and takes a pan where she was soaking some socks and throws it at the flames and it is out but smoking badly. I had my rifle by me, but there is not a good shot and the Indians are too far away.

  I see another wagon and it is in high flames by now. The family has jumped out and just as they did they are cut down by arrows and gunfire. An Indian jumped off his horse and is standing over the woman who is bleeding from the mouth with a knife in his hand and here comes Captain Elliot riding like a madman, his horse almost on its head as he pulls up and lays that Indian man open with his sword. He has a pistol in the other hand and shoots another Indian at the same time. Then he plunges into the middle of them, and it is a frightening thing. I’m glad he is on our side. He must be fierce and wicked and brave all at the same time. All is suddenly quiet, they have retreated to the hills. A bugle sounds and the soldiers are moving quickly to chase them.

  As I write this tonight by our
fire, my hands just won’t stop shaking, and I hold my jaw tight to keep my teeth from rattling. Every time the Indians come I am more scared than before. I wonder how many of those Indian ponies are our horse ranch they are riding away on.

  December 15, 1881

  The family that all died were the foreigners family. Suddenly it seems as if they were real important to us, but we just didn’t know it before they all died. There is nothing left of their wagon to save either, except two of their horses, the others were put down because they were burned real bad. It is real sad to see the little crosses made up over their graves with no names on them. I hope when I die my marker will at least have my name on it somewhere.

  All around us the horses are sniffing and high and I know what that means. They smell the Indians following us, maybe even hear the Indian horses sniffing back. All is quiet but we are nervous and touchy.

  Ernest said tonight that he wants to go off and be a soldier and that when we get to the Territory, he will follow the Army to the fort instead of staying with us. Mama just nodded and looked far off.

  Albert and Savannah said long speeches to him to talk him out of the plan. But I could see by something in his eyes he is set on this. He hasn’t been the same since that shooting contest, and I was counting on him helping to plant the trees and all, and build a house for Mama, but he says, That just ain’t how it’s going to be.

  So then I said, What if they won’t take you because of your leg? and he threw a rock and walked away. I found out later he went and talked to Captain Elliot and signed himself up. Ernest has always been my favorite brother and I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but maybe if I was a man that lost his leg I would know.