Leon Reporter, Leon, Iowa
Thursday, May 7, l903

Geary, O.T. April 29, l903

s Geary, Bughoma, is today nearly lost in a gale of wind and sand and the ground full of bugs and cut worms, doing all they can to retard growing vegetation I will jot down a few items for The Reporter patrons who care to hear from an old friend and how Oklahoma is flourishing. Amidst it all the political bugs swept the town last week to elect their mayor. I guess the saloon mens' favorite won the race. We also had a little excitement over the new law that was passed last winter, or sometime not definitely known. Heretofore an assessor was elected in each county and he hired deputies to assist in assessing and taking the census. He had been at work about two weeks before he was notified of the change, and that is the trustee in each township is to do the work, and as there is only one elected in each township it will hustle them to complete it by the allotted time. Fred is trustee in Long Township and it went democratic last fall, also the territorial oil inspector's salary was decreased from $8,000 down to $l,500; he resigned in consequence of decrease. Such odd laws as we have here. Then when it doesn't rain every two or three weeks mother gets homesick and writes a letter to the paper; all the same Iowa is a good place to think of when you are hungry or lonesome.

The first time I made garden this spring I did the work with a pitchfork and hoe and now I am using the ax to cut and loosen the ground to plant my flowers. Grass and small grain is needing rain badly. I can tell you it was no winter resort here last winter; I almost froze a time or two when the fire went out, but perhaps I noticed the cold weather more on account of Steve's long and severe siege of typhoid fever; he was taken sick Thanksgiving and is not able to do any work yet. With some diseases in this climate you recuperate very slowly. J.D. has bought property in Geary, he is improving it somewhat by building a porch. He brought the carpenter in and introduced him to me as Mr. Kettles, I was astonished and amused for I had been introduced to him once before as Mr. Irons, but did not say anything until the man left then asked what he called him Mr. Kettles for when his name was Irons, he was dashed for once and apologized when he next met him.

Now for a lack of something better to write about will relate a realistic nightmarish dream which I dreamed since moving to Geary, it is of the Carrie Nation order but worse, if not so destructible. The substance of it is as follows: I thought I had been staying at home alone through the day for about two weeks and at night alone until 11 o'clock (but that wasn't bad) and during all the time J.D. just came for his meals and down in town he would go. Finally I became a little angry and concluded I would investigate the matter and try and discover the attraction or find out something regarding his shortcomings. The first day I went down town I passed by the Mint Saloon, disliked to look in but I was out for business and simply glanced in, saw my husband, passed on by and did not say anything, came again next day and saw him looking as contented as if he had always belonged there, the third day was the same. Well it seemed to me I must resort to some method to regain his customary usefulness about the house, for I had no fuel of any kind and not many eatables. I thought in my dream of a plan -- so the fourth day I just walked into the saloon instead of passing it by, looked around and found him in a more secluded quarter, said nothing but asked the proprietor if he had any work inside that I could do or undertake, yes he thought he had some I could do. I asked him what it was and he told me his saloon needed sweeping very badly, I told him to bring me a broom, which he did, and I went to work, or dreamed I did, making the broom fly a great deal faster than the dirt. I thought someone I knew came in, seemed perfectly amazed to see me employed in such a disreputable place and asked me why it was? I told them a wife's duty was with her husband and as he was about to make his home here it was my duty to stay with him for, "what is home without a husband?" Another one came in and asked me the same question, I told them the same thing. Just then I saw John grin as he usually does in a domestic affair, that made me so mad I awoke immediately, and was so glad to find myself in a good comfortable bed and John beside me snoozing at the rate of 2:40 per minute instead of in the filthy saloon. It all seemed so real I couldn't help but laugh and think of that broom being a rival of Carrie Nation's hatchet. I do not think it all will come true, but all cranks are not dead, or all dreamers either. I am alone tonight, but a hypnotist has a seance at the hall is the reason.

I can hear the Indians (if the editor has visited Geary he could have seen the Indian squaws dressed in their blankets and wing sleeved hubbards and see them in the teepees around the fire eating chuck and talking pretty loud, they are only about l00 yards from our house as it is the last one on the south boulevard close by their camp ground. There are eight teepees and two tents and they are a nuisance. Last night one old Indian got drunk, drove his squaw out of the tent and kept our outside until midnight, you could hear her cry half the night. She thought he was dying she said -- they all think that when one gets drunk, or let on like they do. Some of the squaws when a pappoose cries too much, they choke them a little and throw them in the grass, if they get up crying give them another choking and down they go again, twice is usually enough to stop that kind of noise.

As I am writing at random will talk about another color. I have entertained ministers of different denominations this winter, but the last one who called on me was a colored one of the Baptist persuasion; he was soliciting funds to build a church and school as they are not allowed to attend scarcely any of the churches here and cannot attend school with the white people at all. I saw one of the leading merchant's wives had contributed l0 cents. I told him I was a democrat but my husband always helped the colored people. He thanked me very much and told me when he started away that he was sorry my husband and I were so badly divided up. Of course he meant no compliment to me. Will bring this mixed up letter to a close for I am really tired of it myself. By the way I did not receive The Reporter for April l6, the first number I have missed since I subscribed for it last July. Please send it to me as I miss home news. The Editor's letter was printed on first page but this letter will do to put in some corner to fill up space for that is about all it is fit for, but it has relieved my mind somewhat to write a little nonsense for the longer I live here the more I accumulate. Will write to friends when it rains.

--KATE STRONG.

Copied by Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert