Ruby: A Western Pioneer Family Love Story
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About this ebook
Margaret Swensen
Margaret Robison Swensen, was born March 12, 1936 in Murray, Utah. On February 3, 1955 she married her high school sweetheart, Evan Swensen, in the Salt Lake Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They moved to Anchorage, Alaska in 1957. Margaret passed away on February 6, 2002. She compiled and published her grandfather’s poems, As Life Passes, and coauthored two books: Hiking Guide to Alaska and Fishing Guide to Alaska, and her book, The Rose Beyond the Wall, was published after she passed away. She also wrote many other unpublished stories and poem. She was a full-time wife, mother, homemaker, and at the time of her death, an ordinance worker in the Anchorage Alaska Temple. She loved writing, sewing — especially quilting — and genealogy research. Margaret is survived by her husband, nine children, 23 grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.
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Book preview
Ruby - Margaret Swensen
happiness."
Chapter One
Four-year-old Ruby looked down at her shoes covered with desert dust. She lifted one shoe and rubbed it against the back of her stocking. Satisfied with the shine’s return, she did the same with the other shoe.
Christine squeezed Ruby’s hand gently and whispered, Stand still, Ruby.
Ruby brushed wisps of hair from her freckled face, then smiled at her mother. Looking down again, she caught the movement of a greenish brown cricket. She watched it for a minute, slipped her foot over and squashed it.
Clinging to her mother’s hand, Ruby squinted at the casket. She moved her foot, and looked to see if the cricket was really dead.
Wind rushed, unstopped, across the flat land. The unfenced graveyard, victim of winter wind and summer heat, lay near the southwest corner of Hinckley, Utah. Headstones were scattered like bird seed. Two scraggly trees clung to the hardpan soil. Gnarled greasewood and rabbit brush hid neglected markers.
Death stops a small town as effectively as a train stops traffic. Influenza, with hacking cough and ague, and fever, had once more stopped Hinckley at the crossroad.
April’s sun dissipated the early morning dew as mourners stepped from their wagons. Christine Keller and her family were nearly alone.
Christine, a large burnished brooch at her throat stood waiting. Samuel, her beloved husband and Melita, her youngest child, lay in the same coffin— waiting. Family and friends, minds slipping, unbidden, back to their own lives, stood— waiting.
In the last seven years, Christine and Samuel had buried five of their eleven children in this dry old cemetery. Now, Christine was burying Samuel, dressed in Sunday best, and their baby girl, Melita, dressed in pale blue, in the same casket, in the same ground. Death didn’t scare her now as he had in the past when she couldn’t define his edges.
Her eyes wandered trying to find the graves of her dear children. She blinked back tears and decided to search later.
I shouldn’t think of doing without him. I am here with Samuel, now. I must leave him soon enough,
she whispered to herself.
Bishop Reeve finished the dedicatory prayer and stepped next to his wife, Charlotte, who held two-year-old Lucian, Christine’s youngest son. Christine’s cousins, Tory and Ike stood close. Delicate Tory pressed a handkerchief to her face, against the feared influenza. Ike huddled over her as if guarding her against death.
With warm afternoon sun at their back, Ike drove Christine’s family to Deseret, and home. The wagon lumbered along the dusty road, its creaking and swaying soon lulled the little ones to sleep. Lucian was asleep in Christine’s lap and Ruby curled into 14-year-old Julia’s.
Christine squinted at the insipid land. Occasional growth along ditch banks was the tallest living thing. The rest was desert, flat and brushy. Her Papa had brought his family to Utah, and this valley, in a covered wagon when she was young. Memories of burying her baby brother, God only knew where, and two other syblings eluded her, and she shook her head.
Mama,
said 6-year-old Roxie, will we ever see Daddy again?
Yes, dear. The Lord promised we’ll be reunited with our loved ones someday.
She smoothed the wisps of hair from Roxie’s freckled face.
I hate leaving Melita in Hinckley, Mama. And Lucian won’t remember Daddy at all.
Roxie leaned against Christine and took Lucian’s tiny soft hand into her own.
I know, but Papa and Melita are together. They’ll be just fine,
Christine said softly.
Warm wind chased the setting sun into the western hills. The desert sky became shades of cobalt blue and purple. Ike clucked to the tired horses as they entered the small town of Deseret. It was good to be home and to be among things she recognized. With Samuel gone, they would be ‘just things’ too,
Christine thought. The choking feeling in her chest began to rise again and she forced it back. She couldn’t let the children see her crying over something that couldn’t be helped.
Friends and family visited all the next day, with flowers, food, words of comfort, and sympathy. Finally Christine’s home was empty and quiet. She was exhausted. Bishop Reeve helped Charlotte, put the last of the lunch dishes on a shelf.
Christine reached out her arms to Ruby. Little Brown Eyed Pet, sit with me.
she whispered. The invitation was more for her than for Ruby. Ruby crawled into Christine’s lap. Do you remember Papa calling you his Brown Eyed Pet?
Uh huh,
Ruby said. Mama, are we through burying?
We are for today, Ruby girl. Papa is with baby Melita, and the others.
Unable to hold back any longer, tears came and she buried her face in Ruby’s thick brown hair. Charlotte laid her hand gently on Christine’s shoulder and wept with her.
Samuel’s death was a place in time, now, and events would be measured before Daddy died
or after Daddy died.
Ruby sat on the porch and watched the sun turn irrigation water into molten gold as it slaked the rows of parched earth. She pulled on her long stockings, jammed her feet into her shoes and ran to the small barn her Papa had finished just before his death.
The small room built in the back of the barn had one window, a cot, and two small shelves. Perry, her older brother, slept here. As the number of girls increased, he gladly accepted the cell in the barn.
Whatcha doin’?
Ruby jumped onto his cot and peered into his knapsack.
Get your nose out of there. I’m leaving, girl. I can’t stay here without Papa.
She thought a minute. Then you’ll be gone like Papa is. What will I do?
I’m not going like Papa. He’s never coming back. I am. You mind Mama, go to church, and be my good girl, and you’ll manage.
I’ll manage all right. I hate Old Man Death, Perry. I was just beginning to know Melita and he came and got her. He never asks, he just takes. I hate, hate him.
Sometimes Death is a friend, Ruby. Papa was suffering so and Old Man Death released him from that.
I hate him. I’m going to fight him and fight hard. When he comes for me, I’ll say,
You ain’t taking me, ever!"
Aren’t, Ruby. Not Ain’t
Perry corrected.
I’ll hide where he can’t find me. He aren’t ever taking me.
Come on, Bandy Hen, walk with me to the house. I’ve got to talk to Mama.
Perry’s tall frame filled the doorway of the small adobe brick house. He smoothed his fine hair, replaced his cowboy hat, and slipped his hand into a jean pocket.
Mother. I’m going back to Jacob’s. He’ll pay me twenty-five cents for every pony I break to saddle.
Perry’s sudden decision caught Christine off guard.
But Perry, Nevada is such a long way off and
Alan stretched as tall as his nine years would let him. No!
he clenched his fists. We just buried Papa. You can’t go. I’m not old enough to take his place. You’ve got to stay.
Perry cut in. I can’t take his place, either, Alan. Besides, this is between Mama and me. Stand over there and be quiet.
Alan didn’t back down. Not just yet. You’re a coward, Perry. You’ll get away from here and never come back. Well, I ain’t leaving. I’m staying.
Christine rubbed her forehead. Alan, please. Let me talk to Perry.
Roxie defended her younger brother as she usually did. Alan’s right, Perry. You should stay. We need you. Papa would’ve wanted you to stay.
Julia stood up for Perry and turned on Roxie. Don’t be a sissy, Roxie. We’ll get along just fine without him. He needs to go—for himself.
Christine caught the impact of Perry’s declaration, handed Lucian to Julia and started toward Perry.
Perry, you’re needed here a while longer.
I just can’t stay, Mama. Not without Papa here. It’s too lonesome for me. I won’t stay!
He turned before his mother could reach him and marched into the yard. I’ll send you money, whenever I can.
Perry hefted a grub box into the small wagon.
Alan, resigned that Perry was leaving, held the reigns while Perry adjusted the horse’s harness.
Perry laid his forehead against the horse. Please, Mother, give me your blessing. Say it’s all right.
Christine couldn’t speak. The words she’d say would only turn to tears. Too much had happened in the last few days, and now Perry was going away. She reached up, patted his cheek, gave him a half smile, and turned away as he climbed into the wagon.
I’ll write when I can, Mama.
He clucked to the horse, turned the wagon, and headed onto the road.
Dear Lord. How many am I going to lose?
She said. Sadness and grief returned. Grasping the porch post for support, she wept openly. Ruby clung to her mother. The wagon dust, drifted over a small