Grandview, Mo. April 22, 1912
Dear Bess:
I just have three sheets of paper so here goes two for you and one to Miss Maggie. That is if Miss Maggie's doesn't get spoiled. I have put in a new pen point and filled up the ink bottle with real, new ink. If I could only fill up my head with something worth saying now wouldn't you get a letter?
I put in a day today began at seven and quit at seven; sowing clover seed. Papa had a runaway today and I have been handing it to him hot. He had four horses to a harrow, he and the hired man. One of them (the horses) was a colt that had never been hitched before. She got to kicking which caused the other horses to turn round the man dropped the lines to go to their heads and as papa had only a rope to hold the colt he had to get go when away they went. It happened to be in the center of a 160 acre field and by the time they'd gone about half a mile at a forty mile clip they were perfectly willing to stop. No damage. I was on a drill over to one side of the field and when they came where I could see them. I supposed papa and the hired man were killed. You ought to have seen me beat it a half mile across that field. I made it in practically nothing flat. When I found that no harm was done I sure them have a piece of my mind. Recalled everything they'd handed me over my disaster and some more besides. They just had to grin and take it. The good thing about it all was that I had a runaway team anyway and this one was supposed to be gentle. I guess they just ran away for fun anyway. Papa says we feed them too much. I am mighty glad they succeed in only busting up the furniture and not our necks. Papa found another piece of the wagon I broke up about fifty yards from where the runaway occurred. You see it's not necessary for me to go abroad in search of adventure. This farm seems to be perfectly able to supply all I can take care of conveniently. About the next thing on the docket will be a jimmycane (Uncle Harry for cyclone). We have not had not for about three years and it's about due. They don't generally hurt anything but they scare me out of a years growth. About ten years ago they had one here that blew down the orchard upset the hen house and blew away several milk pans and buckets off the back porch. Fanny Sweeten was here with Grandma. They decide to go to the cellar but when they got to the cellar door Fanny looked out the window and said "Why Mrs. Young there goes your hen house across the orchard." The storm had passed and they didn't go to the cellar.
You ought to see what a pretty field of wheat we have. It looks just like a green velvet carpet when you are off a short distance. I hope you can make it out here in the machine when the trees get leafed out and the wheat and oats begin to wave. Then is the time the country looks best. Maybe I can get time enough to roll and mark the court before you come and you can have a game in the old maple grove.
I believe I forgot to even say thank you when you went and got that Munsey for me. I meant to say it. I was certainly glad to get it. I read it all the way home. Had to hop it from 8th and Walnut to the depot. It was raining too but not enough to melt me. It had quit when I got home, but was darker than a stack of black cats. The wind was blowing a gale right from Klondike. I carried my hat because I knew it would be a total loss if it blew off because I had to feel for the gate when I got to it and I know it would have been an utter impossibility to find a blue hat. Couldn't have found a pink one. I was scared stiff because I thought a bohunk followed me down the track from the depot. It turned out to be imagination but I made a good sprint down to the rock road before I was sure it wasn't someone. You really don't know what a powerful effect yaller literature has on you at 1 AM on a solitary country road when it is so dark you could cut it. You can think of all the ghost stories and black hand murders Edgar Allen Poe's murders you ever read or heard of. I've had myself knifed shot and strangled all in the ten minutes it takes to get from the depot home. Even when I arrive home I can imagine that someone had smeared the folks all over the place and is just waiting to get me. I'm going to quit Harold and Geo Bar and Diamond Dick and read Louisa M. Alcott after this unless the moon will consent to shine when I have to come home at midnight.
Do you think this deserves an answer (I don't) but I hope you will. I hope your mother is better and that you suffered no ill effects from the trimmings to our Baltimore stunt. We'll have to try some other joint if they ever do it again.
Please write me a nice long letter for I probably won't get over to Independence for two weeks unless it rains. (Pray for rain).
Sincerely,
Harry