Category: The Applegate Trail

Follow the Applegate Trail

Back to the McCoys

was still contemplating the implications of Albert and Susannah in Biloxi, when Shaherazade, in her typical cyclonic way, changed course. “Did Harlan tell you where he got Uncle Charlie’s bones?” “Not exactly,” I told her. I realized then that Harlan had managed not to tell me anything specific about any of the subjects we touched on in our visit. I drank a good deal of Cynthia’s iced tea and watched magpies play catch-me-if-you-can with one of the stray cats hanging around the McCoy place. Every farmer or rancher has to contend with strays like this half-starved calico. City people seem to think that dropping off their unwanted felines along some stretch of country road is a reasonable thing to do. Like most of the folks around here, the McCoys put out meal scraps, and a bit of milk and let the half-feral cats fend mostly for themselves. Some take up…

Coincidences Do Happen

Guest Post by Shaherazade Budreau   ust as I finished typing up my last entry to Susie’s blog, she showed up on her bicycle looking like she had just completed some kind of marathon. Her face was all red. I don’t mean just a little pink. I mean red. The way only white skin can get. When she took off her helmet, her hair was all flat to the top of her skull and wet with sweat. She was sweating all over. I set the laptop Susie lent me down on the picnic table in her backyard and went for the garden hose. “Hang on, Susie,” I said. “I’ll get you some water.”  She was sitting on the grass under the elm tree when I gave her the hose. She took a couple of long drinks then closed her eyes and pointed the stream of water right at her face.…

A Spitting Image

Guest post by Shaherazade Budreau   his morning, I saw Faith sitting out on the porch in front of the Wilbur County Feed & Seed. She had a cane standing between her legs and was resting her hands on top of it. She was wearing a cap and sunglasses.  “You mind if I sit down here with you, Ma’am,” I asked her.  “Sit yourself right down, Shaherazade,” Ms Applegate said to me. “What brings you to this dusty old place on this fine summer day?”  I plopped myself on the bench beside her, and I told her the Wilbur County Feed & Seed was my favorite place in Germaine.  “Why is that?”  “I like the way it smells and that it’s sort of dark and I like the wood floor even if it is splintery and I have to wear shoes.” It smells like leather and grain from all the…

McCoy and Madam Zorro

pedaled my bike out to the McCoy spread this morning. Big mistake. Morning was a pleasant sojourn, but the return ride in the hot afternoon sun turned out to be a killer. The lessons Susie learned from this experimental outing: take a bottle of water (duh); if you are out of shape, start with shorter trips; grease your bike now and then (another big duh); there is a downside to downhill when on a round-trip; and don’t take long bike rides in the desert in 95 degree weather. Okay, I survived, and I do intend to push on with the bicycle routine. It’s the right thing to do.  The drive down to the McCoy house is a long, sloping grade, perhaps a mile or more. To the north are rows of modern greenhouses, and industrial buildings sit like ghosts on a southern ridge. The small, unassuming house comes into view…