Jim & Nellie McPherson
In January, Mr. Mc went out to Fruita for a week. On the Sunday I was making ice cream, there was a nice little 3-quart freezer. Jim had grown a mustache and I didn’t like it. It was kinda blonde and washed out. I looked out the west window and said, “Someone is riding across the field.” Jim took one look, got the teakettle of hot water, and that was the last of the mustache. He never ever started another. The rider was Pearl Wilcox. With a message Jim was to go down to the river next day with the team and wagon to bring up a load of lumber. Jim’s dad and Budge came along. Paces had a saw mill and they traded lumber for bulls.
While Pearl and Budge were there and we butchered hogs, I got a picture of the big boar hanging in a tree. Jim’s dad looks dwarfed. Come time for Peal and Budge to go back we took horses and a pack of pork. We turned the horses loose coming back. When we topped out of the canyon and looked back, the sky was black as black could be on the river, and it thundered. The horses that were loose would run out to the road then back. One time Jim said, “Did something hit you?” And it had. About that time, another “something” hit us both, first under the hat brim. It was no snowball. I saw what looked like the flames of a coal oil lamp. We guessed that in the snow with the horses shod, the lightning had made contact. When we got to the ranch, Jim’s dad had supper ready. I couldn’t eat. I had the worst headache ever.