1902-1914

By Katherine Kerns Harken

Uncle Bill Cooley lived with us until 1910, when he took up a claim on the bench, a mountain flat land above the old Woodley place.  At the Kerns ranch, I always sat next to my Bill, and as a small child was his special charge, giving mama a freer rein to take care of Bert and Jack.  Jo and John were older and more precocious and needed less supervision.  Later, Uncle Bill sold his place and moved to Castle Rock, Montana.

John, Josephine, and Katherine were born in Iowa before the family moved to the Wyoming ranch.  I have always been uncertain where Bert was born.  I have a vague memory of him being a baby when we moved west.  However, according to the family history, compiled by my nephew, he was born in Sheridan.  I had believed in the past that he was born before we came to Wyoming.  Anyway, Jack was born in the master bedroom at the ranch in 1905.  I can remember our dad awakening us on that October chilly night in 1905 to tell us we had a new little brother.  They named him James Frederick Kerns (which he changed during the first World War to Jack because he did not like being called Fritz.  It sounded too German.)  There was a cowboy neighbor from Texas whom he admired very much, named Jack Dalhart, thus the name Jack.  At the time of this episode, Jack was only ten years old, a feisty kid who would offer to fight anyone who dared to call him anything but Jack.

Tom and Peg were also born in the master bedroom, with Mrs. Collins and Dr. Taggert helping bring them into the world.  This was the bedroom, where mother received many callers, eager to see the double addition to the Kerns family.  The visitors, including several sweet Crow Indian ladies, brought handmade gifts for the babies.

Naming the two babies became a family project.  We were to each suggest our favorite names, one for a boy and one for a girl.  As I recall, there was quite an assortment.  My choice was Billy (after my favorite uncle) and Belly (because Belle had been my favorite play-name), but somehow they didn't choose my names.  Dad's and mother's were picked.  So we now had Thomas Lorance (after mama) and Margaret Olive (also to honor mama)—dad made a good choice.

Speaking of naming kids, I have to digress a bit—Do you realize that most of the Kerns kids were given Biblical names—John—Martha—Mary—(then for some reason Bert got a family name, Albert Cooley, no doubt to honor Grandpa Cooley), then came James—Thomas—Margaret.  INTERESTING!

To go to the old shed barn was always a big deal for us youngsters.  Milking time was especially intriguing for Bert and Kate, who both swigged warm milk like a couple of calves.  Each carrying a cup and riding stick horses out of the yard, we would gallop down the trail, down the hill behind the chicken house, to the barn.  Bill always filled our cups to the brims and then we would gulp it down and have a second helping,—no wonder we grew chubby.  Sometimes Uncle Bill scolded us, because in our hurry to get there, we were often only half-dressed.  Bert's shoe strings were usually dragging and my sun bleached hair was very untidy.  We had to do something about our appearance before we got our milk—the cows could care less.

More about Bill and about going to the barn—at the bottom of the hill, to the west of the trail, was an old building which had seen better days, but was still called the blacksmith shop.  It was filled with all kinds of old tools and rubbish.  It was along side of this building that Bill placed the beehives.  He had a way with bees—I can see him now with a big hat on, and over that, draped mosquito netting.  He was stung very few times—he liked bees and the bees liked him.  Anyway, he and the bees kept us supplied with honey.  I think, one time, when he was using a bee smoker, a spark fell out of the contraption and that night the blacksmith shop and most of the bees were destroyed by fire.  Later we got more hives of bees and put them in the south yard near the house.

Tom and Peg can attest to the goodness of the honey in those hives when they decided to help themselves one time when they were only three years old.  The bees did not welcome their enthusiasm and went to war about it.  Mother claims she extracted more than 100 stingers out of their little howling bodies—strange to say, those two suffered no bad effects from the stings.  The folks figured that the overdose of poison had counteracted the poisonous potential.  Anyhow, those two little kids had learned a lesson the hard way—experience brings wisdom.

Speaking of learning by experience, we all had our share of learning that way.  John as a youngster, loved to fish and although he had been told there were very few fish in roily Gay Creek, he had to find out for himself.  One bright sunny day, after chores, and everyone had gone to their work in field and house, he got a fish line, a hook, and cut himself a willow pole.  He fastened the line with attached hook to the pole, and sitting under a shady willow tree near the little foot-bridge, he baited the hook with a nice green grasshopper.  He proceeded to cast the line in the little creek.  Now John had an accomplice—sister, Kate—who worshiped her big brother.  She was a hidden accomplice, hiding behind the willow, hoping to see John pull a fish out.  Well, he fished and he fished, snapping his line in and out of the water just as he'd seen his dad do (dad was an expert, wasn't he?).  Anyway, in his exuberance of casting, the line got hooked in the willow tree.  John was exasperated and yanked and yanked, it would not come loose.  He proceeded to try to take it down by hand.  In his hurry, he somehow got the hook hooked into his little finger, and boy, did that hurt!  When he yelled, Kate came out of her hiding place and in sympathy, she started to cry—"John is dying—John is dying, someone help him."  John was surely glad to see her and after assuring her he wasn't dying, sent her to the house for help.  Bill happened to meet her on the way to the house for help, and although, he was somewhat amused, and had to swallow a chuckle when he saw John standing on tiptoe with one hand up in the tree and a dangling fish pole below, he got the picture of trouble and came to the rescue.  John retained the evidence of that experience the rest of his life as the tendon of his little finger had been pulled, causing the finger to remain crooked.

Josephine was the prettiest member of the family and very bright.  She had a green thumb and always, when gardening time came, she had her own special flower garden which was much admired by her younger sister.  There were pansies, cosmos, marigolds—a profusion of lovely colors all planted in neat rows, all of which delighted MOMO and POTO (Grandma and Grandpa Cooley) when they came from Missouri to visit.  Jo was a perfectionist and did everything beautifully.