Chapter 9 ~ Page 126
What happened the next few days still has me in a whirlwind. My check had gone to Sierraville, 60 miles away. Having the boys take the horses back to an ''improved' campground, the rest of us piled into a car for a mad dash to retrieve the misdirected mail, and to shop for food and grain where prices were a bit more reasonable. We were taken to dinner also, where Pig had the whole restaurant listening to stories about our quaint habit of sharing silverware. She then stole enough to replenish our 'dining room.'
Then, we zoomed away again to a farmers for grain. We made it back to camp by midnight before we realized that the family's poodle had been inadvertently left behind. "Hell, let him wait until tomorrow," Mom said. "Have another beer."
While we were gone, James and BJ had had a visit from the U.S. Forest Service. Remembering past encounters, they had tried to hide the fact that the horses were picketed across a nearby meadow, and were ready to deny they belonged to the crazy family riding north to Canada. Instead, they were treated like heroes. Asked if we needed anything? Any help? Any maps? It seems Pig's mom, having second thoughts about her daughter riding off with saddle tramps had put the pressure on Smoky the Bear to rescue her darling. For the last week, the forest service had had a search party out after us.
It was beginning to look as if we never were going to politely talk ourselves out of this dilemma. James and I volunteered to go after the dog. Pig showed up with the car because she wanted to shop for some new riding boots. Well, first things first. We found the dog at the farmers. Then, waiting for her to do her shopping, I formulated plan X. When Pig returned, James was to make a pass at the first pretty girl we came across.
I'm proud of that boy. He surpassed himself, half hanging out of the car window to sweet talk a pretty little filly. It worked too. Pig was so mad she drove in such a fury that I took over the wheel. She moaned, "James, why don't you act like that with me?" He wouldn't answer until we returned to camp, and then blandly delivered the coup-de-grace.
"Would you do something nice for me?"
"Yes. Yes," she replied.
"I'd like to borrow your car to take that girl out tonight."
Plan X worked. Once again we were just a family, poor but happy. Looking back on the days we had spent with our "guest" seems quite humorous now, but there are regrets. We had crossed the path of the Donner Party, and the reaction I had at the moment was that the way Pig was working her way through our supplies, we too might end up starving. We had camped at a haypress meadow that had the namesake item still standing. Here, instead of appreciating this historic relic, I had wondered how I could use it to squeeze you-know-who down to a size six.
Then, we zoomed away again to a farmers for grain. We made it back to camp by midnight before we realized that the family's poodle had been inadvertently left behind. "Hell, let him wait until tomorrow," Mom said. "Have another beer."
While we were gone, James and BJ had had a visit from the U.S. Forest Service. Remembering past encounters, they had tried to hide the fact that the horses were picketed across a nearby meadow, and were ready to deny they belonged to the crazy family riding north to Canada. Instead, they were treated like heroes. Asked if we needed anything? Any help? Any maps? It seems Pig's mom, having second thoughts about her daughter riding off with saddle tramps had put the pressure on Smoky the Bear to rescue her darling. For the last week, the forest service had had a search party out after us.It was beginning to look as if we never were going to politely talk ourselves out of this dilemma. James and I volunteered to go after the dog. Pig showed up with the car because she wanted to shop for some new riding boots. Well, first things first. We found the dog at the farmers. Then, waiting for her to do her shopping, I formulated plan X. When Pig returned, James was to make a pass at the first pretty girl we came across.
I'm proud of that boy. He surpassed himself, half hanging out of the car window to sweet talk a pretty little filly. It worked too. Pig was so mad she drove in such a fury that I took over the wheel. She moaned, "James, why don't you act like that with me?" He wouldn't answer until we returned to camp, and then blandly delivered the coup-de-grace.
"Would you do something nice for me?"
"Yes. Yes," she replied.
"I'd like to borrow your car to take that girl out tonight."
Plan X worked. Once again we were just a family, poor but happy. Looking back on the days we had spent with our "guest" seems quite humorous now, but there are regrets. We had crossed the path of the Donner Party, and the reaction I had at the moment was that the way Pig was working her way through our supplies, we too might end up starving. We had camped at a haypress meadow that had the namesake item still standing. Here, instead of appreciating this historic relic, I had wondered how I could use it to squeeze you-know-who down to a size six.
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Text and Photographs © Barry Murray 1971-2007 Mac&Murray Multimedia