isa-normaladvance-1914-00198

Description:	198THE NORMAL ADVANCEa &ace »ttf) an Snbtan Moman(A TRUE STORY) By ORVA STINEThe west wind came a whispering, a whispering to me,0, partner, good old partner, do you mind when you were free?When you rode a hard mouthed pony and your root- tree was the sky,—And your wall the far-off mountains and stern and steep and high?WHEN the following incident took place I lived alone on the South Dakota prairies three miles from any neighbor in a claim shack and according to the dictates of an unrestricted personality I spent part of my time teaching a dozen pupils in a little town school three miles distant. I lived there on the homestead fourteen months. The only company I had was a pony Golddust by name and which in my estimation was the finest in the country. My other pet was a gray maltese cat which earned its shelter by keeping the mice away. Whenever I went away to spend a night or so, the cat was crowded into a sack, the opening tied together at the top and then hung on my saddle pommel ready for the trip.Located about six miles from my claim and near a river was a country store and hotel which served as the social center for all the homesteaders miles around. When the bachelors wished a square meal, there they would go. When the mail bag was brought in twice a week every homesteader of that vicinity was likely to make his bi-weekly visit or, whenever the blues or loneliness oertook one it was there that refuge was sought. If the cup¬ boards needed replenishing the popular place was the store. In the winter the home¬ steaders had their skating parties there in the summer their boating. Surrounded by beauti¬ ful trees and a river the place was ideal for rest.Another feature was the out-of-door bowery.Once at least every week the crowd gathered to trip the light fantastic to the strains of a fiddle and guitar. Needless to say everyone was democratic and no social lines were drawn whatever, for each had one thing in common, thats homesteading in a new land.On a certain week-end one of the girls and I made plans to make our first visit to the store. Packing our saddles with all the necessary paraphernalia, we ventured out, fording the river for the first time and reaching the store at sundown. Several rushed out to greet us while others came to care for our ponies.The following day just about noon time I walked out to the hitching posts to join in the welcoming a few other new comers. In the group were two Indian girls, but of the educated type, one having attended the Carlisle Indian School. Her sister was voted Queen of the Prairies because of her beauty. (Her por¬ trait appeared on the cover-leaf of a last years Spring number of Colliers Weekly.)We chatted first of one thing and then an¬ other when finally the subject of good horses came up.I have the finest little race horse in the country, I exclaimed with no degree of re¬ serve I fear.What, your horse a race horse? quoted the Indian girl.Yes, indeed, and then a few of my en¬ thusiasts yelled, Ill wager on her horse. See, it is built for running.
Source:	http://indstate.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/isuarchive/id/32662
Collection:	Indiana State University Archives

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