A Seed Is Planted-1938
The first fourteen years of my life were about what you’d expect for the only girl in the family on a Texas cattle ranch. I was the middle child, bookended by my four brothers, two on each side.
My outdoor chores ended the day I found blood in my unmentionables. Terrified and thinking I was dying, I ran to Mama and blubbered the news. She stopped hanging laundry on the clothesline, walked me inside, and sat me down at the kitchen table.
“Well, Ruby, today you became a woman.” She bit her lip and looked everywhere but at me.
“What’s that have to do with the bleeding?”
Mama explained what she called “the facts of life.” While she talked, I thought about the heifers and cows I’d watched in heat and being bred. I shuddered, telling myself people were different and anyway, I didn’t have any plans to get bred, leastways not for a good, long time.
“Things are going to change for you now. No more working the cattle. You can still feed the chickens. And of course, you’ll be helping me in the house.”
Far as I was concerned, the whole thing seemed like a raw deal for girls, and my heart broke a little. No, a lot. Being demoted to household chores—woman’s work—chapped my hide. Cooking, cleaning, and baking were not my idea of fun. My protests made no difference at all. Even appealing to my daddy didn’t help, although I was the apple of his eye, and that had nothing to do with my red hair. Not just any red hair, but mahogany, I was told.
Mama told me to face up to reality. “I’m preparing you for the future.”
I couldn’t tell her I wanted no part of that future.
The summer after I finished eighth grade, a reprieve from the drudgery came in the form of Mama’s half-sister, Imogene. She descended on our peaceful life, landing like a tornado. We’d heard stories—eye-popping stories of her days as a flapper and her “affairs of the heart” gone bad—so my brothers and I couldn’t wait to get a gander. We were not disappointed.
Mama was tight-lipped about her New York City past. I knew she left there in 1919 to marry Daddy, giving up city life for the ranch, but that was about it. Couldn’t figure why there was so much secrecy about her family.
Being what Daddy called a “natural beauty,” Mama didn’t usually fuss over her appearance. But the day Imogene came to visit, Mama asked me to finish up the baking so she could “freshen up.” When she came back to the kitchen, I had to look twice at her transformation. Gone was her housedress and apron. She wore her Sunday-best dress and had fashioned her strawberry-blond hair into a pageboy. Her eyes and lips were painted, like she was fixing to go out on the town. That wasn’t the only surprise I got that day.
Aunt Imogene arrived in a Cadillac car, a brand new 1938 model. The shiny black paint and whitewall tires were coated with dust, but that didn’t stop my younger brothers Dylan and Jace from admiring every detail, from the running boards to the checkerboard-looking grill to the hood ornament.
The car door opened, and a tall woman stepped out, looking like a model on the cover of Photoplay, the magazine my friend Clare subscribed to. She wore a cream and royal blue dress with a cape! Her hat, shoes, gloves, and handbag all matched the blue color. When I saw how the road dust covered those shoes, I cringed. Imogene took off her hat and gloves and ran her hands through her curly mahogany tresses, the exact same color as my own hair, and just as wavy.
Mama noticed my reaction and said, “Shut your mouth, Ruby. Flies and all that.”
I turned to her. “You never said she has the same hair as me.”
Mama twisted her lips. Under her breath she muttered, “Imogene always threatened to come visit, but I never thought I’d see the day.”
Why did Mama see Aunt Imogene’s visit as a threat?
My aunt set one elegant foot in front of the other, carefully keeping her balance on the rutted dirt road as she approached us.
Knowing she’d taken the train to Fort Worth, I wondered how she got the car. With hands on hips, Mama came right out and asked.
“Well, if you must know, I stopped at the Cadillac dealer and said I wanted to take a test drive.”
Mama rolled her eyes. “An overnight test drive to Mineral Wells?”
Imogene waved off the remark. “Details, details.”
“Par for the course.” Mama spoke low, so only I could hear.
Imogene stopped two feet from Mama. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” Her smile lit up her face.
Mama’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Imogene. Wasn’t sure what time to expect you, but I’ve got supper cooking. This is my daughter Ruby.” She called the boys over and introduced them.
Words stuck in my throat. Like a fool, I just nodded and gave a little wave.
To my surprise, Dylan stepped forward and offered his hand. “Howdy, Aunt Imogene. Welcome to the Eaton spread. That Cadillac car sure is something.” Jace peeked out from behind him. “This here is Jace. He’s eight and kinda shy.”
“Rose, those boys are the spitting image of Leland. By the way, where’s your hubby and the two older boys? I think you said you have five children.” Her astonished tone left no doubt how she felt about a large family.
“Bringing in the cattle. Ought to be along any minute. They can fetch in your luggage. Let’s head inside.”
Imogene grinned and put her arm around my shoulder. “Look at you. You surely favor your mother, although you were blessed with the Babcock hair.”
Awestruck by my glamorous aunt, I almost swooned when I caught a whiff of her perfume. I’d bet a nickel it came from France. How would she react to staying in my room and sharing a bathroom with seven other people?
“This is quite the place you have here, Rose. So scenic. Seems like a going concern, but what do I know of cattle ranches?” Imogene strode toward the front porch with purpose, and we followed her like a line of ducklings.
Supper that night was one to remember and not because of the food. Mama made a pot roast with potatoes and root vegetables. Tuesday was baking day, so we had fresh bread. And blueberry pie for dessert.
After our blessing, we settled in to eat. Aunt Imogene took tiny little portions and refused Mama’s homemade gravy. She even scraped off what was on the meat. That raised eyebrows. With their usual enthusiasm, my daddy and brothers filled their plates and dug in.
“Have to say, Imogene, never thought you’d grace our ranch with your presence.” As he sopped up gravy with his bread, Daddy smiled, which sort of took the sting out of the words.
Even so, I held my breath, waiting for Imogene to respond.
“Well, it’s about time I came to see my sister’s family, right, Rose?”
Mama had frown lines between her eyes, and I sensed tension and a whole lot of history between the half-sisters. After a bit, she answered, “We’re glad to have you, Imogene.” A sort of non-answer. I could almost hear Mama wondering why she was here.
All four boys ate in silence. No one seemed much for talking tonight, which I thought was odd, since we had company. I searched around for something to say and finally just asked, “Why are you here, Aunt Imogene?”
Forks clattered onto plates, throats were cleared, and all eyes turned to my aunt. I regretted my question. Would Mama think I was too forward?
Imogene threw back her head and laughed. “So glad you asked, my dear. I’ve come to take you to New York for a visit. Call it a graduation present.”
My jaw dropped, and a tingle ran up my spine. “Really? Oh my goodness! Mama, did you know?”
Mama’s frown was bigger now and her cheeks glowed red. “No, I did not.”
“That’s mighty generous of you, Imogene,” Daddy said. Then he got a look at Mama’s face and backtracked. “We’ll discuss this later. Without the kids.”
After dessert, the grown-ups sat in the parlor and had their discussion. I couldn’t hear a darn thing and had a hard time concentrating on washing the dishes. The song “Lullaby of Broadway” played in my head. Would Mama and Daddy allow me to go? Would I see the Empire State Building, go to a Broadway play, eat in a restaurant? My mind spun with the glamourous images I’d seen at the picture show and in Clare’s magazines.
Just as I was wrapping the leftover pie, Mama and Daddy stepped into the kitchen. While I waited for them to speak, I held my breath.
Daddy smiled, and I knew. Mama came to my side and put her arm around me. “You’re going to see New York City.” She didn’t look real happy about it, but boy, I sure was.
I raced to my room to start packing.
***
Early the next morning, Aunt Imogene and I skipped breakfast and piled in the Cadillac. Everyone stood on the porch watching us drive away.
Two hours later, we drove up to the car dealer. Aunt Imogene pulled out her gold compact and checked her image. “Wait in the car, kiddo. I’ll get someone to drive us to the train station.”
As soon as my aunt opened the car door, a red-faced man approached, waving his arms. “I thought you were just going around the block!”
Imogene strode right up to him. “Why the fuss? I’ve returned the car, although it needs a wash. And a fill-up.”
“I didn’t know you’d be gone overnight,” the man fairly shouted.
Imogene smiled and handed him the keys. “You didn’t ask.”
The man opened and closed his mouth, like a catfish on a hook gasping for air.
Mesmerized by the drama, I couldn’t wait to see how this would end. Imogene stood her ground and looked the man right in the eye.
He cleared his throat. “Quite right, Miss Babcock.”
Seemed to me, Aunt Imogene had used the family name and her connections when she borrowed the car. Did the Babcock name carry weight even in Texas? I had to hand it to my aunt—she knew how to get what she wanted.
“One more thing,” she said, placing her hand on his arm. “We’ll need a ride to the train station.” Her eyelashes fluttered, and from his reaction, she may have hypnotized the man.
He smiled and patted her hand. “Let me have the pleasure of driving you myself.”
***
At the station, we boarded the train and found our accommodations. When this train arrived in Chicago, we’d switch to the New York Central for the last leg of the journey. I never thought the traveling part would take so long, and by the time we arrived at Grand Central Station, I was plumb wore out.
My first sight of the Manhattan skyline took my breath away. How many people lived and worked in those skyscrapers? Hundreds of people, maybe more than lived in all of Palo Pinto County, in a single building. Back in Mineral Wells, the Baker Hotel, with its fourteen stories, towered over the rest of the town, but it would be dwarfed in New York. There was no mistaking the Empire State Building, the tallest of them all. It was lit up like a Christmas tree. I couldn’t imagine the electric bill.
As our taxi made its way down the streets, I gazed in wonder, my senses overwhelmed by the traffic noise, the neon lights, and the teeming crowds.
Aunt Imogene puffed on a cigarette in a long, black holder. “When we get home, I’m sure Vandine will have a little dinner for us.”
The smoke made me scrunch up my nose, so I rolled down the window. “I’m not very hungry.” I didn’t tell her the smoke was making me sick.
“Suit yourself. I’m famished.”
“Mama said Vandine taught her how to cook.”
“Yes, she did. I suppose it came in handy for Rose, given the number of meals she must cook each day.” Imogene blew out perfect circles of smoke. “I was never interested in such things.”
Can’t say her answer surprised me.
The taxi pulled up to the Babcock residence—what Mama called a veritable mansion. I confess I had to look up “veritable.” After the driver brought our luggage to the porch, Imogene handed him a five-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
The smiling driver whistled as he stuck the bill in his pocket and hustled down the steps.
When a Negro lady opened the door, I about dropped my teeth. Mama never said Vandine was a Negro. What else hadn’t she told me?
Imogene threw her arms around Vandine. “So good to be home and back to civilization.” Urging me forward, she said, “Meet Rose’s daughter, Ruby. Although we decided she’ll go by her middle name from now on. Lauren suits her so much better. Don’t you agree?”
Vandine raised an eyebrow. “Rose might could have a little somethin’ to say ’bout that.” She put her hands on the hips of her full-skirted shirtwaist dress and looked me up and down. “My, you sure are the picture of your mama. Exceptin’ the hair. Ya know, I kinda like the name ‘Ruby,’ but I’ll call you which one you say.”
“I’d like if you’d call me ‘Lauren.’”
“Pleased to meet you, Lauren.” Vandine chuckled and said, “Let’s get these bags in the house.” We did, then the three of us headed straight to the kitchen.
The delicious aroma of hot apple pie brought back my appetite. After eating two pieces of Vandine’s fried chicken and a biscuit slathered with butter, I only had room for one slice of pie.
“Thank you, Vandine. That was yummy.”
I tried to clear the table, but Vandine waved me off. “Shoo, now. Time you settled in.”
Aunt Imogene rose and stretched. “Let me show you around, kiddo.”
Mama was right—the house was a veritable mansion—grand, with tall ceilings and gleaming walnut-paneled walls in the downstairs rooms. Crystal chandeliers hung in the foyer and dining room. Gold brocade furniture, colorful patterned rugs on the marble floors, gilt-framed oil paintings of my ancestors, fresh flowers in vases. Nothing like our ranch house. I felt like I had to tiptoe and whisper in such a place.
During the ten days I spent with my aunt, I lived in a state of jubilation and admiration. Too many times to count, the words “incredible” and “magnificent” came out of my mouth. We visited the Museum of Natural History, and I had to be dragged away from the exhibits in the Hall of Ocean Life. Living in Texas, I’d never seen the ocean, and the size of the giant clam and whale skeletons amazed me. Aunt Imogene took me to the picture show to see The Adventures of Robin Hood with Errol Flynn. My first Broadway play at the Shubert Theatre, I Married an Angel, made me wonder if I could ever be on stage. Not likely, but it was fun to think about.
And the shopping! Aunt Imogene flounced through the perfumed air of Bloomingdale’s, followed by eager salesclerks. The aisles loaded with merchandise, the elegant customers, and the escalator dazzled me. Uncertain about stepping on those moving stairs, Aunt Imogene had to take my hand before I’d set foot on them. I didn’t know where to look first. The mannequins all wore hats. When I mentioned to Aunt Imogene I felt naked without one, she bought me a straw boater, and I wore it everywhere.
We ate in fancy restaurants with cloth napkins and waiters dressed up in suits—not once, but four times. I’d never imagined a life like the one Imogene lived.
I dreaded going back to the ranch. Why couldn’t I stay? But I didn’t have the backbone to ask my aunt. As we waited for the taxi for our return trip, I choked back tears as I hugged Vandine goodbye.
“You be sure to remember me to your mama, now.”
All I could do was nod. In the taxi, I pondered the bits of family history I gleaned from listening to Imogene and Vandine talk. Mama’s mother had died in childbirth, and she was raised by a string of nannies until Vandine arrived on the scene after Imogene’s mother ran off. I couldn’t imagine not having a mama, or even someone who cared, until the age of ten. Why hadn’t Mama told me these things?
The trip back to Texas took even longer than the trip to New York, or maybe it just felt that way. Aunt Imogene seemed to have lost interest in me and spent her time in the lounge car. When my folks picked us up at the Fort Worth train depot, Imogene flat refused to get on the train to return to New York.
“Leland, take me to the nearest airport. I’ve had enough of travel by rail.”
On the silent ride to Meacham field, I wondered if I’d ever see Aunt Imogene—or Manhattan—again. All I had to commemorate the trip was my straw boater and a collection of postcards. At the airfield, Mama stayed in the car while Daddy unloaded Imogene’s bags, and a porter whisked them away. I hugged her goodbye and thanked her for the wonderful time.
“When you’re a little older, come and see me again.” Aunt Imogene blew me a kiss and followed the porter inside the terminal.
“I will!” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mama with her lips in a tight line, shaking her head.
As we drove back home, I marveled Mama was raised in the same house as Imogene. How did they turn out so different? Mama was as straitlaced as they come, while my aunt was what I’d call “jaunty.”
Mama met Daddy when he visited New York City after the Great War. He stayed only a few days because he was needed on the family ranch. But Cupid’s arrow had hit its mark. Two weeks later, he got the surprise of his life when Mama called from the Fort Worth train station. “And the rest is history,” she always said. I figured there was more to the story but doubted I’d ever hear it.
Why in the world would Mama give up such a glamourous life for the dreariness of cooking, cleaning, and plucking chickens? Did the love of a man make you forget everything else but him? The whirlwind visit left me convinced that someday I would find a way to escape my fate as a ranch wife in Palo Pinto County, Texas.
