Over the course of the next two and a half weeks, twenty-eight of her thirty ewes gave birth to healthy lambs. Bess had six sets of twins and twenty-two individual lambs for a total of thirty-four lambs to complement her thirty head of adult sheep. One of the mothers of a set of twins refused to let them nurse, so she separated them. Such lambs were called “bum lambs,” and they made excellent pets as they grew up because they bonded with their owner as he/she put them in a small pen in the shed and personally took care of them and fed them.
Despite having a larger number of sheep now—her herd had more than doubled in size—they were a bit easier to herd because of the lambs and partly because they didn’t want to get too far from a source of water, which was their large water trough in the corral. They all seemed quite healthy as Bess moved them from place to place during the course of each day. At night, she always brought them back to the corral.
Doc came over and spent two of the nights helping Bess herd the sheep. They didn’t sleep a wink while they were tending to their needs. When Doc was at the place, Bess felt no need for her rifle, and since Doc always carried one, they could ward off any coyotes. She liked Doc very much. The last morning when the lambing was essentially done, he gave Bess a long hug and kissed her on the cheek. She didn’t resist him, although she felt an urge to do so.
In mid-May, Bess hired Kenny Abrahamson, who was a homesteader just due south of her place, to shear her twenty sheep. It was a good time to shear—not too cold during the day or night, and not too hot. It would give the sheep plenty of time to grow new fleeces and be ready for the winter.
During shearing time, Bess and Kenny also rounded up the lambs into one small pen and individually “docked” them, meaning that they cut off their tails to an appropriate length of about one and one half inches and castrated the young males. Cutting off the tails might seem cruel, but it was done for sanitary purposes since wool tends to collect foreign matter rather easily, and the tail is particularly notorious. Not only was this unpleasant for all concerned, but a dirty tail attracted wool maggots and posed a serious risk of infection to the lamb.
Docking was no fun because it was a bit bloody, but it had to be done for the sake of the health of the sheep. Of the twenty-four lambs, ten were rams. The castrated rams were called “wethers” and Bess would be selling them later in the summer when they were about four months old.
Shearing sheep was an art. The goal was to shear the wool off the sheep in one complete piece—the fleece. Then the shearer would check the fleece for sheep ticks, tie it up, and put it along with the other fleeces into a woolsack, a large gunnysack that was made out of burlap. Each woolsack could take about thirty or forty fleeces, making their total weight about three hundred fifty to four hundred pounds. It didn’t take Kenny long to shear Bess’s twenty ewes. He told her that they had “healthy wool,” meaning that it was free of sheep ticks and that it was thick and had what Kenny said was “good oil.” Each fleece weighed about eight to ten pounds, so in the end she had close to two hundred pounds of excellent Rambouillet wool.
At the current price of twenty-four cents per pound for high-grade wool, Bess would be able to sell the wool for about fifty dollars. She would be able to sell the wethers at about seven dollars per hundredweight. Her plan was to sell nine of them in late September when, she calculated, they would weigh approximately one hundred pounds each, so she would make about sixty dollars for them. She would butcher the other one and enjoy several good lamb dinners and some excellent lamb stew. In all, her first-year sheep would earn her about one hundred dollars, which would be enough to sustain her through the winter.
There was something wonderful about freshly sheared sheep. They were a lovely cream-white in color and when they were grazing on fresh prairie grass where there was also an abundance of spring flowers; the sight was bucolic, as though it were a beautiful painting. They also seemed to have more energy and actually look happier. Despite the hard work she had experienced from the start of the lambing season until they had been sheared, Bess felt a great sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, and she had been lucky not to have experienced any fatalities.
In late May, while in Haley to purchase some flour at the Currie Store, Bess saw Allen Lee, whose homestead was just west of her place. “Bess,” Allen said. “Need a dog? We have two healthy German shepherds. Want one?”
German shepherds! Buck, her dog in Cando, was a border collie, a breed that was known to be excellent sheep dogs. “I might,” Bess said. “How old?”
“Born last August,” said Allen. “Male and female.”
“I would love to see them,” Bess said. “Would this coming Saturday be convenient?”
“Come on over,” said Allen. “Patsy will make supper.”
“So long as it’s early,” Bess said. “I have to watch the sheep. Be here when it gets dark, you know. Mid-afternoon. Three o’clock?”
“That would be fine,” said Allen. “I’ll tell Patsy.”
Not only would a dog be helpful with the sheep, it would be a companion, Bess thought. An agreeable friend! A German shepherd could also be an excellent watchdog. Better than Hiss, to be sure, although Hiss was becoming quite reliable and didn’t seem to hiss quite so fiercely at her anymore. Maybe he was becoming tame. Certainly more friendly, she thought.
Bess and Annabel arrived on Saturday afternoon at three o’clock. Allen and Patsy greeted them warmly. They were surrounded by three playful and friendly-looking German shepherds--one was the mother and the other two were fully grown and active pups. Well, Bess thought, not really pups. They each were a dark brown and black. The young dogs looked as though they were smiling and they wagged their tails. Bess held out her hand and let the dogs sniff her hand and fingers and, once that occurred, as she knew, they would be her “friend for life.” Dogs are so trusting, Bess thought.
Bess watched the dogs with Allen for a short while and felt that the male was a bit more friendly and responsive. “I think I’ll take the male,” she said. “Does he have a name?”
“Not yet,” said Allen. “Thought you would like to name your dog.”
Bess thought for a moment. “Bismarck,” she said. “If he’s German, might as well give him a proper German name!” German shepherds were good herders, but they needed to be trained, especially to not bite the sheep. Bess had a little experience training Buck back at Cando, but he was a border collie. Maybe the German shepherd would be more difficult, but Bess didn’t know. In any event, Bess felt comfortable because these dogs were known more for their intense loyalty and abilities as a watchdog—and having a watchdog seemed to Bess to be a pretty good idea.
“You going to church tomorrow?” asked Allen. “I could bring him over in the wagon before.”
“I probably won’t go to church,” Bess said.
“I’ll drop him off on the way,” said Allen.
Bismarck seemed to sense that Bess liked him and continued to come to her and lick her hand. He seemed to know that Bess was going to be “his person.” Bess scratched his back and his ears, and the dog would turn, run around in a circle, and come back for more. “He’s my dog,” Bess said enthusiastically. It feels good to have a new friend, she thought. And a guard dog as well.
The next morning, Allen and Patsy stopped at Bess’s home and delivered a smiling and frisky Bismarck, who seemed happy to greet his new master. Allen had obviously begun to train the dog because when Bess walked down the pasture to the herd of sheep, Bismarck obediently stayed by her side and resisted whatever urge he had to chase them. “Good dog,” Bess said as Bismarck wagged his tail.
It would take a while for the dog to learn how to keep the sheep in a bunch, but he was clearly smart, and Bess felt confident that he would be an excellent sheep dog in due time. She worried about how Bismarck would react to Hiss, hoping that he wouldn’t attack her favorite serpent. She would teach Bismarck to simply ignore him and keep his distance. The thought of training Bismarck to like a snake made her smile.
It wasn’t common to keep sheepdogs in the house, but given Bess’s experience with the man who’d tried to attack her, she decided to let Bismarck stay inside with her. Now let someone try to sneak in, she thought. Bismarck made her feel safe and enabled her to sleep much better.
In early June Bess bought a Jersey milk cow also from the Lees. She was a two-year-old cow that Bess understood was a good producer of milk and was quite tame and easy to manage. Jerseys were known to be smaller than the normal cow. They were white with tan splotches all over them, and produced a good quantity of milk, which was known to have a high butterfat content. With this cow Bess would have all the milk she needed and could even take a milk can nearly full every three days or so to the creamery in Haley and sell it.
The summer of 1909 was quite pleasant without excessive heat. They did have several strong thunderstorms, and one in late July caused Bess to seek shelter in the root cellar along with Bismarck because of the ominous churning black clouds—very dark green in color—that rolled in from the southwest. She feared there would be a tornado and that she might lose everything. Instead, there was just heavy rain mixed with hail that caused significant damage to some of the homesteaders’ crops. The Lees lost their entire flax crop, as did several other homesteaders north of Haley. Fortunately, the hail at Bess’s homestead was not so severe and her garden suffered only minor damage, mostly to the tomato plants.
Bess had heard from Mama and Papa quite regularly, and they encouraged her to have a photograph taken so they could see how she was doing. She arranged to have it done one Saturday afternoon. Bess had to wear a dress, because although Papa might not mind seeing her dressed up in her work clothes, Mama certainly wouldn’t be pleased.
Bess didn’t really care to be photographed, but she stood patiently while the photographer from Scranton had her pose in different positions. It was uncomfortable, but she managed to do it, and when he sent the photo to her, she promptly mailed it off to Mama and Papa.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Haley had a baseball team!
Although Bess was not a particularly avid baseball fan, Doc took her to several games that they played in town. He asked her to go with him to see the team play in Bowman, but she was not able to leave the homestead and, quite frankly, she wasn’t really interested in spending any time in Bowman. That thought brought back memories of Linda, and Bess didn’t want to be in Bowman and hear the telltale whistle announcing the train’s arrival from the west. She probably would have wandered down to the station with some fool notion of meeting Linda, and that would have caused her considerable distress.
The baseball team was very good, though, and they won all three of the games that Bess saw them play in Haley. It was quite fun, not only seeing the game, but being with Doc and seeing him so excited and happy. His enthusiasm was infectious. He was a real fan and told her about some of the players. Ken Fisher was on the team and he was a very good batter. They also had a homesteader by the name of Bill Gardner who had apparently played semi-professional baseball in Iowa and South Dakota before homesteading southeast of Haley. He was the pitcher, and the hitters on the other team simply could not hit his pitches. Watching their frustration was fun.
Bess had grown quite fond of Doc. He was always polite, was considerate and certainly expressed a fondness for her. He was an excellent conversationalist and seemed very well educated. She knew from watching him ride that he was an expert horseman, and his first-class horses were successfully sold on a regular basis. “If you need a good horse,” so the saying went, “you can get one from Doc.”
Bismarck had befriended Doc as well. Doc was good with dogs and Bismarck sensed that Doc liked him. It seemed that Bismarck also knew that “his person” liked Doc, so Doc was OK.
Doc was getting serious about Bess and it was easy for her to tell. On several occasions, he’d talked about how well they could do as a team in combining their knowledge of ranching, and maybe building something significant for them both. Bess was interested in him mainly because she agreed that they could do possibly quite well together in the ranching business, but she had little romantic attraction to him.
During the last week in July, Bess and Doc had finished supper and decided to take a short walk during the clear evening up on top of the hill to the stone Johnnie. When they reached the top of the hill they gazed at the cloudless sky and the beautiful streak of stars in the Milky Way lighting up the landscape along with the full moon which had risen in the east over the dark prairie landscape. Doc proposed marriage to Bess completely out of the blue. In some way it was a surprise to her, but she knew deep down that marriage had been on his mind for quite some time.
“Bess,” he said, “I love being with you. We could be happy together. A good team.”
Bess smiled at him and didn’t say anything for a while. Then she said, “Doc, I’ll have to think about it. It’s a big decision, you know. I want to make sure it’s right.”
Doc smiled. “Yes, it must be right.”
He took Bess’s hand and together they walked slowly down the hill to the house. Doc seemed a little uncomfortable and appeared to be searching for words. “This has been wonderful, Bess,” he said. “Please give some thought to what we talked about.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek, saddled up his horse and left slowly in the dark toward Haley.
Bess spent the next week with her head spinning. She thought about her feelings, how she had been sensually attracted to both Linda and Martha. Living alone brought fears to her from time to time because of the attack in the early spring. She felt that she and Doc could actually team up quite well together as ranchers. That appealed to her greatly and was definitely a practical view. Maybe that was reason enough, although she wasn’t romantically interested, and she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the fact that getting married would probably include children…and it would include everything necessary to conceiving them.
The following Sunday, Doc came over to Bess’s homestead. He didn’t say anything about their previous conversation and Bess thought that he might be afraid that if he did ask about marriage again she would tell him “No.”
Bess had thought it through. Completely, she thought. So she didn’t wait for him to ask. She decided to use his first name because she thought that would show greater respect for him.
Doc sat down at the table. Bess turned and faced him while she was standing in the middle of the room and as he gazed at her with a loving expression on her face—waiting for her to say something. Anything.
“Chris, you make me feel so comfortable. Yes,” she continued, “we will make a good team. It makes sense.” She paused. She took a deep breath and then she said, “Yes, Chris. I will marry you.”
Doc looked at her with no expression on his face for a moment. Then he smiled and said, “Oh, Bess! Yes!” He got up from the table and stood beside her. He took her hand as she stood up. Then he kissed her for the first time. Then he kissed her again.
“When?” he asked.
“When do you want?” said Bess.
Doc smiled. “September?”
Three weeks away, Bess thought. “That would be nice.”
Doc was all smiles, hugged and kissed Bess, and nearly danced out the door. It was getting late and he needed to get back to his horse ranch.
As he left, rather than having his horse walk slowly toward Haley, Doc left in a gallop. Excited. Bess’s head was churning thoughts about what she might be getting herself into. Is it love? Is it security? Companionship? It wasn’t the romantic, but the practical side of her—thinking with her mind instead of her heart—that told her to say “yes.”
Bess had never given marriage much thought and it was never part of her plan. Now that she had accepted his proposal, she found herself shuddering at the thought of their wedding night, not only because of what had nearly happened that terrifying night when she was attacked, but also because she wasn’t attracted to Doc. Maybe it’s guilt that I feel, she thought, becaus
e my feelings simply aren’t for men.
And children? They would be a normal part of marriage, but they had never really been part of the plan. She had never had a longing to raise a child, and to her, the added burden would simply complicate her life. But I guess I must adjust, she thought.
These thoughts kept her awake during the night, as well fear of the dreaded intruder, and she held her loaded revolver close to her body with the heavy chair in front of the door. Bismarck slept in the bedroom beside her bed and gave her additional comfort. If anyone comes through that door, she thought, he’ll have to deal with Bismarck. Then I’ll kill him. Except if it’s Doc.
Bess wrote to Mama and Papa telling them all about Chris Stewart and that she would be getting married. The letter she received from Mama was supportive, but told her that they would not be able to travel to Haley from Cando to attend the wedding. That was disappointing to Bess, but she understood and was happy to hear that she had their support.
Doc and Bess were married in Haley on Saturday, September 4, 1909. The small ceremony only had Mr. and Mrs. Currie and Mr. and Mrs. Brian Feist in attendance. It was as short a ceremony as they could have, with the exchange of vows, the minister saying a few words about the sanctity of marriage, and then the pronouncement that they would be, from that time forward, man and wife.
Mr. and Mrs. Christopher Stewart, Bess thought. She had mixed feelings about giving up her last name of Parker, but that was the way marriages were done. Bess Stewart, she thought. I’ll have to get used to that.
They didn’t go on a honeymoon but instead went to Bess’s homestead, where they spent the following week together doing as little work as possible. Doc was interested in sex, of course, and Bess found herself having to tolerate it—it was her first time, and Doc seemed to know it.
Bess: A Pioneer Woman's Journey of Courage, Grit and Love Page 19