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

by Nancy E. Turner

  I was checking two loaves of brown bread in the oven, and straightened up to look out the window when I saw him down on his haunches, tickling one of my three kitties and smiling. Then he went to the pump by the back porch and used the soap I keep there and washed up. He ate a big slab of ham and almost half a loaf of hot bread right out of the oven, and I had to tell him to slow down, he would get sick from eating such hot bread. But he said in the Army he never had such bread, and hot or not, it was good.

  He stirred up things by moving and straightening things I can’t even lift, so there seemed to be mice running everywhere, and my kitties were all over the place, chasing them or carrying them in their mouths. It became a contest, the cats and dogs both trying to gobble every mouse they could get, even if they had to take them away from each other, so there were a few noisy scuffles between them.

  By mid afternoon, he built me a fire to make some more soap, and even helped me strain the fat. Then he went to the corral to tighten up some fence, he said, but I didn’t watch him as I had to stir the soap. He came back just as I was pouring it into the molds, and admired the pink stuff, and I explained that I still had some perfume left over, and the one that broke was for my next batch.

  The sun was low in the sky, and in an hour it would be supper time again, and so I expected he would stay like yesterday and I was cooking up a big dinner. But he came back with his horse, and dressed up, with his hat on, ready to leave.

  He nodded to me and said, I came to tell you, I have worked for you two days.

  Yes, I said, you did a good job.

  Then he said, I didn’t do it for free, Mrs. Reed.

  Well, I said, what do you want? I was counting up the hours he spent in my head and thinking I could give him maybe ten dollars, if he was going to push me for it.

  But the look on his face was something other than I expected, and then he grinned that half grin of his and his eyes sparkled. You know what I want, he said, and stood real close to me, so that I could feel his body even though he wasn’t touching me. My lips felt hot as if they remembered the feeling of his lips against them. It was hard to breathe and my throat was so dry that when I spoke, my voice made a funny sound.

  If you think I’m going to let you kiss me again, in such an indecent way, well, you’d better not try it, Captain Elliot, I said.

  Then he got real serious and said, Not only would you let me kiss you Mrs. Reed, you want me to. However, as nice a payment as that might be, I had much more in mind.

  I know my eyes opened wide and I was shocked. I felt like I had the wind knocked out of me.

  Oh, don’t look at me like that, he said, putting his hat back on his head. You know that’s not what I meant. I asked you to meet me in town for the Fourth of July and you never said no, but I have a suspicion you’d never show up if you didn’t feel obliged to. So now you owe me. He mounted his horse. A date in Tucson. By noon on the fourth. I’ll meet you at the depot, and plan to stay at least a couple of days. And don’t come alone with your baby, it’s too dangerous. And you’d better show up or I’ll be back, until you owe me your whole ranch. Then you’ll be the subject of more talk around town than a sin like white petticoats and being an Indian soldier!

  June 30, 1885

  I have to admit, with a couple of days of a man’s hand my ranch looks bright and shiny, and the house is freshly painted, and the cats are full and sassy, lying in the shade licking themselves. After Captain Elliot left I saw that he had lied, and when he said he was tightening up the corral fence, what he was really doing was digging a hole. He had planted a little bush by my front steps and there was a brown piece of paper stuck on the thorns of it. Picking it off, I got stuck and a drop of blood from my finger soaked into the paper. Written there in the same little tight capital letters that came on the seed packages was this:

  THIS WILD ROSE BUSH WILL LIVE MANY YEARS.

  PRUNE IT ONLY IN THE DEAD OF WINTER.

  WATER EVERY OTHER DAY AND

  COVER IT WITH A BLANKET FROM FREEZES.

  What possessed him to do all this work and give me a gift like that, just for a date in town? A rose bush. I wonder what the flowers look like? I never have seen a real rose bush, and I didn’t know they lived years and years. I will have to ask Mama about roses. I got right up and hammered some stakes in the ground around it and wrapped wire about them to keep the rabbits and things from eating it. I don’t feel so mad at him, but purely puzzled.

  July 1, 1885

  Last night I had a dream that Captain Jack Elliot was here lying beside me in this bed. I was so sure it was real I could feel his skin and hear him breathing, and I reached over with my hand and there was no one there. I felt sad. Then I was mad at myself and got myself up on my knees and asked the Lord to forgive my wanton heart. And when I slept again I dreamed of being kissed like he did on my back porch, and there was nothing like it in all my days. That time I didn’t wake up but felt him wrapped around me like he was before, and somehow smiling that funny grin and kissing me at the same time. Then I slept in real late this morning, and didn’t wake up until April came and crawled up on my bed. I looked over around for a sign of him being there in the night, and there were none. And I felt some relieved but more empty than a leaky bucket.

  Albert rode over here today to see how things looked, and he said real carelessly, Well, looks like you have had some work done on the place.

  Albert Prine, I said, you have showed a scoundrel side of yourself by helping that man to trick me.

  He nodded at me and grinned. It wasn’t any trick, he said. Jack wanted to help you out and said you’d agreed to pay him. What’d he charge you?

  I said, I have to drive all the way to Tucson just to eat dinner and supper with him, and sit the whole afternoon in his presence and be tormented!

  Oh, he said, still grinning, That’s mighty odd.

  That’s not all, I said, it’s going to cost you too, since I am promised not to come alone with April, but must be escorted safely by you. I figured that would singe his tail feathers good, as he hates to take time off especially just to be an escort, not even on farm business.

  But all he said was, Fine, we’ll take Harland and drive half a dozen of your horses to market, and he and I’ll be busy selling horses while you keep company. The Fourth of July will be a big day and lots of people will be in town. Come spend the night at Mama’s on the third, and leave April there and we will leave before first light and be there by noon, he said.

  How, Mister Albert Frederick Prine, did you know it was the Fourth of July?

  July 4, 1885

  We left Albert’s place early, and even with the string of yearlings along we got to town before noon. Albert would not let me ride a horse but insisted I drive the wagon. Harland has his schoolwork all neatly held in a satchel just like the town boys use, and he said it was a gift from Jack Elliot.

  Well, I told him, that man doesn’t give a gift without a string attached, and he said What does that mean? But I couldn’t explain it, I just know it for truth.

  Albert knows something about all this but he is not telling, and I am not real happy with him.

  True to his word, Captain Elliot was waiting at the depot in a rented, shiny black buggy, which he helped me into almost immediately and put my bag in the back. Then he said hello and talked a bit to Albert and Harland, and said he has arranged for three soldiers to camp at our places, one at each, to guard while we are in town. That is probably a good thing, although all has been quiet for weeks now.

  I had gotten my mind all prepared for putting up with his shenanigans, but he seemed polite and courteous, and only teased me when other people couldn’t hear, for which I am thankful. We strolled and looked into shops I have never been inside, and I discovered there is quite a bit more to Tucson than I had thought—more than Jimmy showed me. Also, there is now an ice factory in town and it was so wonderful to have a cold, cold drink in the warm afternoon.

  We went to the ice shop and he bought
a cherry phosphate with two soda straws to share it. I never had such a fancy, tingly thing to drink and I was afraid it was liquor but he said no, just sugar and cherry juice. He pretended to drink some but mostly he let me have it all, and while I drank it he pretended to be looking out the windows but I saw his eyes flit back at me now and then.

  I figured he was real proud of himself for renting a buggy, so I told him it was nice, and just to make conversation I said maybe someday I’d like to have one. It sure was a smoother ride than my old wagon. Anyway, I began to be in a better mood. But, if he thinks he is going to kiss me again for a lunch and a buggy ride, I will never, ever let him.

  Then he took me to a place in Carillo Gardens where there were little canoes to ride, and made me sit down and he rowed around the tiny lake. We admired the water lilies growing in the shady places, and the ducks and geese, and there were even two important swans he said were brought from California just to be admired in the pond.

  Then I understood he had said imported, which means brought in from somewhere else, not important, and I thought it was funny and said, Well, they look pretty important, too.

  He said, I like to see you smile, which made me embarrassed, so I tried to talk about something else. I hope no one looks this way and thinks Captain Elliot is my fellow.

  Before we knew it, we had talked away the whole afternoon about this and that. The carrying on out in the streets was getting crazy by then, men were shooting guns and boys were lighting firecrackers, scaring dogs and horses, and it seemed like you took life and limb in hand just to ride back in the buggy through town.

  We had a real elegant dinner in a place with carpets on the floors and table cloths and silver candlesticks on the tables, and a real stiff man asked us what we wanted and sniffed at me when I couldn’t decide. It was some pretty fancy cooking. Little carrots in a ring decorated the meat which they called Prime Rib but it was just a piece of roast beef. There was cake with thick frosting for desert.

  When the man came back with the bill, I waited until he left, then asked Captain Elliot how much it is. I figured if he expected me to pay him back in Tucson, then I had brought my money, and this was a grand and fancy dinner, so this must be what he wanted.

  He put his hand on mine when I reached into my bag, and said Sh-sh, real softly. Never, never, he said, pay for a man’s dinner. Your contribution is simply being company.

  I was purely puzzled.

  The restaurant started to clear out, and the noise and carrying on in the street was louder. The band was playing again, real music this time, and up on the side of the hill by downtown the fireworks began. He took my arm and we walked down to where we could see the sky fill up with the sparkling things and hear the booming.

  Pretty soon, he asked me, How come you jump every time they go off?

  So I said, Well, I don’t like the smell of black powder, it just makes me remember. And then I choked up like a little girl and couldn’t finish.

  He put his hand on my back and said, Come with me, Mrs. Reed. And right away we whisked away from the fireworks and back to the buggy, where he pointed it away from the downtown area and snapped the whip and we drove out to some open road. It was calm there, and cool, and the breeze kept the smell far from us.

  You’re still shaking, he said.

  No I’m not, I told him.

  He just made a tired face at me and nodded, saying Okay, you’re not.

  We were silent for a long time, and finally, he was looking at the stars, real thoughtful like, and said to me, You know, I’ve never thought about it before, but fireworks always bothered me too. I remember the smell of gunpowder and the sound of cannons when the Union Army took our town. I remember people running, and the smell. Then he took a deep breath, and said, They burned our house over our heads. My mother had just had a baby, and I was six years old. She begged them not to set it on fire. She gave me my little brother to carry while she took my two sisters’ hands, but I couldn’t get out, a burning timber fell in between us. Then she came back for us and handed me out a window just as the ceiling fell in on her and the baby.

  His voice sounded like ashes, dry and hot and withered, like he still felt the heat from that fire. Then he said, My Pa was in Georgia starving for the Confederacy, and got home two months later. No, he said, I don’t much care for fireworks.

  Well, I didn’t know what to do. I felt myself being sucked into a dark well full of his painful memories, which seemed just as bad as my own. Then, like I was someone else watching us from over head, I saw myself put a hand on his arm and squeeze it. He laid his hand on mine and we just held hands together, as if we were keeping each other in the world and if we let go, one or the other would just slip away from sadness. I felt the hard muscles in his arm, and the calluses on his hand. I caught myself looking hard at his hand on mine in curiosity, at the little hairs on his knuckles, and at the dark weathered skin and blue lines that stood up across the bones. In the cool and quiet night, we both stared at the stars, like they whispered words of comforting to us. There was a kind of strength in it, in being together, that was stronger than being alone.

  After a long time I said to him, Did you know some of the stars have names?

  He looked at me and smiled with that warm look he gets now and then. Yes, he said, but I don’t know their names, do you?

  No, I said, but lets name them ourselves. We’ll name them after everyone we love that is already in heaven, and every night when we see their star, we’ll have a good memory of them instead of a sad one. See how beautiful it is up there?

  Then he looked at me so hard that it sort of scared me, so I kept talking but with my face turned away from his.

  We picked out stars in figures we could find again, and named them after his Mama and his little brother, and my Papa and my little brother, and Ruben Maldonado, and Mrs. Lawrence, then he picked one for his friend he lost five years ago, but he wouldn’t say a name for that one. On our way back to town I realized I didn’t pick one for Jimmy, but he didn’t ask me about it, so I decided not to mention it. I’ll pick him out one later at home.

  Albert and Harland were already put down in the wagon, but Captain Elliot had rented me a hotel room, on the second floor, where I didn’t have to worry about someone looking in from the outside, he said. He walked me to get the key, and then took my arm again up the stairs and unlocked the room and handed me the key. He struck a match and lit the kerosene lamp and it brightened up a bit.

  This is real nice. I have never stayed anywhere completely alone, I said, looking around.

  He sighed real hard, like he was still looking inside himself somehow, and closed his eyes. Then he said, Well, it’s not so bad, and you can sleep as late as you want. The hotel clerk will order you a bath if you want in the morning too, and bring you breakfast, all you have to do is ask.

  He went toward the door, and I followed him close, ready to lock it because I felt a bit nervous. He turned around. Miss Sarah, he said, taking my hand again, Thank you for a fine afternoon. Then he kissed my hand.

  Captain Elliot, I started to say.

  Please, he said, call me Jack.

  Well, Jack, I said, I had a very nice time.

  He smiled. Will you go for a drive with me in the morning?

  That will be fine, I said. I felt caught in his eyes.

  Suddenly his lips were on mine. Instead of being forced or quick, it was just a sweet, little kiss, and it made something inside me burn hot like I stepped over a fire. He stopped for a second, then kissed me again, pulling me against him, scaring me with the storm I felt in my insides as he pressed me tight.

  Wait, I thought, I was going to tell you not to try to kiss me, but you didn’t give me a chance. I couldn’t get the words out, it was too late. Then, too soon, he stepped away from me, grinned his funny half smile and tipped his hat and slipped out the door.

  Good night, I whispered into the dark hall, and although I didn’t mean to, the word came out like a prayer.
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br />   July 5, 1885

  Even though I tried to stay awake last night and ponder all that happened, I seem to have fallen asleep when my head felt the pillow. I was up this morning with the sun. By the time I was bathed and dressed, it was still very early and there was no sign of Captain Elliot, so I went into the dining room alone and had some coffee and pancakes.

  The coffee was weak and the pancakes were undercooked, so when the waiter came to refill my coffee I had to say, I’m sorry, I’m just not hungry, but he acted like he didn’t care a hoot. Town people are strange. I was half done when I felt someone standing near me.

  Captain Elliot. Immediately I felt myself flush hot and remembered how he had taken me off guard because I was so tired last night. He will not get away with that again.

  Well, he said, you promised me a ride. He didn’t say much, but sort of guided me out to the buggy, and climbed in beside me.

  We started off down the road, and we saw a lady on the walkway with a dear parasol over her head. I asked him, Captain Elliot, would you please take me to a store where I can buy one of those parasols for shade?

  He looked at me like it was for the first time, and said, Your wish is my command, Ma’am, and turned the buggy around.

  He pulled up in front of a ladies’ millinery where they had the nerve to display a corset in their front window. Are you sure this is the place? I asked him.

  But he said, Well, if it isn’t, then they will know where to go, most likely.

  In ten minutes I had myself the most beautiful parasol for a dollar and eighty-one cents, and the lady said since it was lavender, it was all right to take it while in mourning, so I was very happy. When we got back to the buggy I set my hat back a little on my head and opened the parasol, and the little ruffles sashayed around in the breeze when we moved. It was beautiful.

  We drove way out of town to the Silverbell Mine, and from a hilltop there Tucson looked mighty small. Contrary to yesterday, he hardly said a word the whole way. We walked around a bit, and had some water from a canteen he had brought, then he gave the horses a scoop of water in some odd leather bags like I’d never seen before.