Indian Story

Update item information
Title Saga of the Sanpitch Vol 06
Subject Pioneers
Description Stories and poems about early Southern Utah Pioneers
Publisher Snow College
Date 1974
Type Text
Format image/jpeg
Language eng
Rights Management Snow College
Holding Institution Snow College
ARK ark:/87278/s65x272x
Setname snowc_sts
Date Created 2005-02-26
Date Modified 2005-02-26
ID 324158
Reference URL https://collections.lib.utah.edu/ark:/87278/s65x272x

Page Metadata

Title Indian Story
Description Now the water was hot for the dishes. She lifted the large pan down onto a low bench, softened the hard spring water with a dash of suds, made from homemade soap and water, which always stood on the back of the stove for this purpose. How Bothilda hated this job. The heavy plates, with a thick layer of grease from the fresh fat pork and the black molasses scones made the dishwater cake with a layer of grease on top. If only she had a soft cloth for a dishrag. This square piece of blue denim was too stiff to get to the bottom of the large deep cups and it was hard to wipe clean and dry the well-worn oilcloth table cover, which had to be used for the family tablecloth. Finally the dishes were all clean, the heavy milk buckets and strainers carefully scalded and put on pegs in the sun to dry, ready for the evening milking. It was such a relief to wash and rid her hands of the greasy mess between her fing- ners. Next the lamps must be filled with coaloil and the chimneys cleaned, the butter churned, the eggs gathered, cleaned, and counted into the baskets and made ready for the trip to the store. After hanging the coats and things strewn around in the early morning rush, Bothilda was ready to sweep the floor. She looked at the broom made of rabbit brush tied to a long stick. She really needed to go into the field and find a suitable brush, but what was that? A long shadow fell across the unswept floor. She looked up and a large Indian stood in the doorway. His huge size seemed to fill the room as the frightened little girl stood and stared at him. She knew she must not panic as the Indians respected a brave woman, but she was alone and could not understand what he was saying. His tone seemed gentle and his bucket indica-ted he wanted milk. Bothilda led him across the spacious yard to the cellar, where the milk was kept cool. Again panic overwhelmed her and she thought of the recent Givins family massacre. She wondered how old the Indian was, as it was the young bucks who, when they got a bottle of whiskey, tormented the whites. There he stood in the doorway, the only entranceinto the cellar. Bothilda was at his mercy and the only thing she knew was to be brave. The morning's milk stood on the shelf, fresh but cool. She took a large pan of it and poured it into his dirty bucket. He lifted it to his lips and tasted it, then poured it back into her pan. What should she do now? A pan stood there with thick cream on it. This she poured into his bucket, the same thing happened again. Bothilda stood limp and trembling. When she thought of the churn. Yes, that was it, the buttermilk.' She filled his bucket for the third time. He tasted it, he grunted, and walked away. After a minute, when she got the courage, she peeked out. He was crossing the fields tasting the cool, delicious and refreshing drink as he lazily strode home. Bothilda wondered what to do. She was alone. The nearest neighbors were a mile away and she had work to do. When she regained her strength, she started on the large basket of ironing. The exercise of getting more wood helped her to re-lax; but she kept a close watch. -50-
Format image/jpeg
Identifier 060_Indian Story.jpg
Source Saga of the Sanpitch Vol 6
Setname snowc_sts
Date Created 2005-02-19
Date Modified 2005-02-19
ID 324134
Reference URL https://collections.lib.utah.edu/ark:/87278/s65x272x/324134