Day 11 - Oklahoma

Day 11
October 27
Oklahoma

        My Dearest Miss Smith,
    I do know it is Amy’s turn to write, and since my handwriting is not at all like that of my companion nor does she address you as “my dearest Miss Smith,” I realize that you are undoubtedly wondering why I am writing instead of Amy. I will get to all that later. I only wanted to make sure you were quite clear that it is not Amy who is writing this letter.

    I am sitting here in the living room of our cabin enjoying the quiet after such a fun and stressful day. The cabin has four rooms which means Timber can sleep in Amy’s room once more and Penelope will sleep in mine. Natalie and Lydia are both sharing a room and now and then I hear giggling. Well, tomorrow they will both return home, so I decided to let them enjoy one night of whispering and giggling, though I expect they will fall asleep shortly. But I really should start at the beginning of the day, and I shall as soon as I return the ice pack to the freezer.

    The day started early for all of us. No one wanted to miss a single minute of life at The Hitching Post. We ate our own breakfast and then walked out to see what was going on. I do wish you could have seen the four of us, Miss Smith, all striding along in our cowboy boots.
    All the two younger girls could talk about was horses so the first place we headed was the corral. There it was discovered that since we were the only guests, we could take a trail ride whenever we wanted. You may be sure that we all decided that a trail ride right then was just what we had been wanting. Natalie was the first to be helped up onto her horse. A lovely white one. Lydia was next and her horse, to her great delight, was brown. Nearly the color of her boots and hat. My horse was a darker brown with white stockings on her forelegs and a white diamond on her face, while Amy’s horse was nearly black.


    We had a trail guide with us and after showing us the basics of riding, for Lydia had never ridden and it had been many, many years for me, he had us ride a few times around the corral before we started off. Oh, I simply cannot tell you about that ride, Miss Smith. We wound through the woods, the trees of which were dropping their last leaves. We saw a few deer as we had left the dogs behind. The trail brought us into a meadow and to a stream. Very pleasant it all was and I was almost disappointed to return some two hours later.

    Leaving Natalie and Lydia with the horses and the ranch hands, since they couldn’t be persuaded to leave, Amy and I walked up to the main house and were shown around. Everything was charming in its own western way. Perhaps I should redecorate one of my rooms in a western style when I return from this trip. It certainly would be interesting.

    After a barbecue lunch served outside from the chuck wagon, the four of us were taken for a ride on the 1882 stagecoach. The driver was dressed in the clothing of the time as was the man who rode shotgun. We were told that they were taking the mail as well as us on this trip. The bumping and rattling of that ride was enough to keep anyone awake. It was a dozen times worse than the dirt road leading to your great aunt Eliza’s sister-in-law’s granddaughter’s house. I don’t see how folks could ever travel in stagecoaches and were it not for the delight of experiencing first hand how it felt to travel in those long ago days, I am afraid I would not have enjoyed it. As it was, with the younger girls’ great excitement, it was not difficult to share it, especially when suddenly the man riding shotgun called out, “Hurry up them horses, I think those men aim to rob us!”
    We all eagerly peered out our windows. Since there was no glass, we were able to put our heads out and watch. Several men on horseback were rapidly nearing the stagecoach with bandanas over the lower parts of their faces and with guns drawn. It was an exciting race and quite thrilling. Guns were fired both by the men on horseback and by our driver and guard. At last, the stagecoach was saved by the approach of some cavalry troopers who took off after the bandits.
    It was as the stagecoach was leaving the others behind in the dust (and let me assure you, Miss Smith, that it was very dusty), that it happened. We went over an extra rough piece of road and Amy, turning in her seat to look at the retreating riders, was thrown rather violently across the seats and landed on the floor of the coach, her left hand and arm taking the force of her fall. For a moment we could only hang on to our own seats and look at her. Then, when the road grew more level, we helped her to her seat again. Poor Amy, her arm was in great pain though she never said one word of complaint.
    When we arrived back at the ranch, great was the consternation of the driver about the mishap. Amy assured him that she would be all right, but he insisted on having it looked at by someone there. It was declared to be only sprained, but she was told not to use it for a while. She has it well bandaged and resting in a sling made of bandanas.
    As soon as Natalie and Lydia found out that Amy was going to be all right, they headed back to the corrals to visit the horses and see if they could talk someone into letting them ride again. This they accomplished and neither Amy nor I saw them again until suppertime.
    This letter is growing quite long, Miss Smith, I truly hope you do not mind. Amy said for you to please not worry over her. In the morning Lydia’s parents arrive with Joseph (who came down with his family from Wisconsin a few weeks ago, to visit his grandparents, and stayed on so that he might catch a ride down to meet us), and Lydia’s brother Levi. They will be going with us to Texas and I have a feeling they will liven things up even more. I wonder if they like opera?
    And now, my dear Miss Smith, I will go to bed. You shall hear from me soon since Amy won’t be writing any letters for a little while since she is left handed.

With love,
~Priscilla