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Show FATHER AND THE BURROS Chapter XIV Father was forgiving and indulgent to us kids. He was 45 when I was born, so he was hardly young when I was a teenager. Although I often buried myself in a book, neglecting my chores such as feeding livestock and carrying wood for stoves, I can't recall his ever scolding me about it. He'd silently do the tasks himself if I wasn't prompt. Mother overlooked a lot too. Looking back now, I sometimes feel guilty. On the other hand Father was generous. For example, the burros. Some of Peak the Indian Paiutes drove up to the store one day when I was nine. They were only one family but they arrived in two wagons, one pulled by pinto mustangs, the other by a pair of sleepy, droopy-eared gray burros. The Indian told Father he needed money-he must sell the donkeys with their harness and small wagon. Father bought them for me. True, I could drive them to Nada "station" once in a while to haul back a small load of groceries. Ijcould harrow newly plowed land or cultivate some row crops with the burros. But while their little feet made many steps, they didn't move fast. On a hot desert day they and I must almost have merged with the landscape because of their lagging pace. Strenuous slapping of the reins on their backs; might speed them up for a few steps but they quickly relaxed into their slow-motion. For riding they were a bit better. As the Indians hadn't left them with any names we could understand, we called them Jack and Jenny, which were terms for their |
