MY story continues I think this is next- Losing track where I left off Chapter Three I remember it was hot, dusty and dry the last week of August, 1939 Dorsey and I watched as a truck with a load of cattle started up the steep hill north of the house. As it made it’s way up the steep incline, the back of the truck popped open and he entire load of cattle spilled back down the hill. They were undoubtedly dry cows headed for the nearest auction barn, probably in Winner. It wouldn’t make sense to take them along to Nebraska with the gamble that they wouldn’t produce a calf again next year. I don’t remember or don’t even know how they were rounded back up but I’m pretty sure they were reshipped. While we were watching this event, Dorsey sat in a little red wagon that I used to pull her all over the place. As she sat there and I stood by, Margaret came rushing to us, seemingly out of nowhere. She grabbed Dorsey up in her arms. A small deadly puff Adder was coiled under the wagon. Margaret grabbed a stick that she used to kill the snake. Wrapped in this same memory with the puff adder is a picture of some farm equipment setting there. I think most to the farm equipment had already been hauled to Nebraska by then. ( There was lots of it. All horse drawn.) Some that made the trip was one or two grass mowers, dump rakes, plows, a corn binder, corn planter, drags and harrows, wagons. Even bee hives and more. And, of course, pitch forks and shovels. The list could go on and on. Many sets of harnesses, bridles and saddles made the trip. I’ve often wondered where all that stuff had been stored in South Dakota as there were no outbuildings that amounted to anything that I recall on the place. One piece of equipment sitting there that did not end up in Nebraska was a great big steel tractor. It had huge wheels. I’d guess a foot wide. On the rear wheels were cleats, actually called lugs, shaped like axe blades mounted sideways. The heavy weight of that big tractor caused the cleats to dig into that hard, dry South Dakota gumbo guaranteeing traction. When blacktop highways came to the country, signs saying “TRACTORS WITH LUGS PROHIBITED” were posted every few miles along the road. I mentioned the soil being gumbo. In summer it got as hard as a rock. Pop tells that during the drought years, it became so dry that it cracked with fissures that extended deep into the ground. He said on the unlucky times that a wagon wheel fell into one of those chasms that you had a devil of a time getting it out because it fell all the way to the axle. Trees with branches to use for levers were few and far between. He said you’d have to take the wagon tongue off to use as a pry bar. Even then it wasn’t an easy job. When the rains came, as they finally did, the gumbo turned into a heavy sticky, clayey mud. I’ve seen it cling to horses hooves in clods that I’d guess were sixteen inches round. When they eventually loosened and dried, they made for a pretty bumpy ride for passengers in cars traveling the same road. Nasty stuff it was but it sure had an ability to hold water. That ability was put to good use. President Franklin D Roosevelt, elected in 19 32 instituted all kinds of programs in an effort to bring the Country out of the devastating depression. One of these programs was the CCC (Civilian Conservation Corp) The CCC was tasked with nearly anything that provided employment. Among those efforts were the building of roads and dams. Many draws, very narrow little valleys through which natural drainage took place were dammed. The result was a pond behind the dam which provided water for range cattle, horses and wildlife. When the ponds went dry, the bottoms cracked with the fissures previously mentioned. They looked like giant sheets of dirty shattered glass. Yeah, that gumbo is something else. I know I’ve wandered all over the place so it’s time to get back to that load of cattle that spilled out on the hill: My guess is that it was driven, or at least owned by Ivan Hicks or his brother Harold. As I remember it they owned stock trucks that were used to haul about anything that needed moving. I know that Ivan Hicks hauled countless loads of equipment to Nebraska. The last load wasn’t equipment. It was the meager household furnishings. A table and some chairs including two leather-backed rockers with steel coil springs, beds, dishes, utensils and a least one painted white four drawer dresser. I’m pretty sure the truck was the same one that had spilled the cattle. This time the back was firmly secured. Since we didn’t have a whole lot of household stuff, there was plenty of room for some of the kids to make the trip in the back of the truck. I don’t remember any sobs of sorrow or lamentations as we let the Rosebud Reservation. We traveled the dirt road east to Wood, to Mosher, Witten, Winner and Colombe, then turned south on Highway 183 past the metropolis of Wewella consisting of a combination post office/store and a quarter mile away a beautifully floored dance hall. One mile south of Wewella, we left South Dakota soil and entered Nebraska. Six miles south of the State line we turned west on a section line road. I think, but I’m not sure, that all the children except Vernon was riding in the back of the truck, I distinctly remember Margaret looking after Dorsey. Mom and my baby brother, Leonard five months, old rode in the cab with Ivan Hicks. When we made the turn from the highway, we knew we had to be close. I’ll never forget the excitement and expectation of seeing our new home. The dressers that I mentioned earlier had been loaded to the front end of the truck. Someone, probably Leroy, pulled out the dresser drawers to provide ladder like steps that allowed us to see over the top of the truck. I can’t describe the elation and emotion of myself as a near six year old, let alone those of my siblings, when, a quarter mile from the highway we could see a big green, sub irrigated valley below us with buildings larger than any I had ever seen. Although we were still about three quarter mile away, the sight was awesome and oh, so much different than our one time home of a hole in the ground with a shack over it. Almost dreamlike and unbelievable. What a different way of life lay ahead.
Posted on: Sun, 27 Oct 2013 06:55:22 +0000
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