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11.28.2006


A Stone in My Pocket

That was Gus. He wasn't very tall but he knew how to dress; he liked red scarves and black hats. He was smart, talked a lot, played music, and said he'd like to learn to play the harmonica some day. He rode as well as anyone, could handle a rope and answered "yes Ma'am." 

Gus came down and spent the afternoon at "Camp 28". He helped around camp, made me up a feather duster out of turkey feathers to dust my saddle off with. Asked lots of questions about how I traveled, what I used to cook on, and why didn't I use a tent?

He was good company and we shared a nice afternoon. He was pretty rough when it came to football later that week, but Claire sure liked it ‘cuz Gus would chase after her and play tug-a-war with her. That was when the whole Schriner family came over for a good night barbeque. A “goodbye, glad you stopped” barbeque for three unusual travelers.

Yes, that Gus he kind of caught this long rider’s eye, and before I left he put a pretty stone in my hand, "Here Bernice look at this, keep it, it’s unusual," he said as he handed it to me. I thanked him and put it in my pocket. And it’s still there, and I still think of that handsome 8-year old Gus who put a pretty stone in my hand before leaving Red Cloud, Nebraska. .. I can't thank Hank, Marsha, and all the family for their huge slabs of generosity enough.

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