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Memories of Golde Dicks Markham (1996) Golde Markham Dicks 42/125

One weekend in 1913, Ma and I went with Pa to Philippi to hear him preach. It poured

all during the church service that Sunday night. After the service was over, several of the
brethren tried to persuade Pa to spend the night and go home Monday morning. Pa told them
he thought the storm was over then even though, there was still lightning. It looked like there
was lightning all over the whole world.

Pa had driven our other mule to Philippi. This mule didn’t have a name like “Old
Beck,” but it was a lot more lively and faster than Old Beck. I’ll just call this mule “Number

Two.” I’ve seen the night so dark that you could put your hand right up in front of your eyes
and wouldn’t be able to see it. If we got lost, which happened sometimes at night, Number
Two got us home.
Many times Pa would say, “I’m lost. I’ll have to depend on this mule to get us home,”

and he’d give Number Two the reins—two ropes or a long narrow strap called “the lines.”
They are fastened to the bridle or bits in the horse’s mouth, and that’s how a horse is
guided—by pulling on the right-hand line for the horse to go right or pulling on the left for

the horse to go left. To make the horse stop, we pulled back with both lines.
We took off from the church, and Number Two was just soaked. The mule had been
tied to a tree during the rainstorm. All of the roads were just dirt rutted roads—mo paved

roads. All at once the buggy felt like it had dropped off the face of the earth. A little farther
on there was another jolt. This time the buggy felt like it was on its side. Of course, I was in
the foot of the buggy up under the seat. I was getting rolled round under there ilike a spin­

ning pool ball.
It had rained so much that the water ran down the road like a river. The trees were so
close to the road that their roots ran under the road. When the water washed over those
roots, it created a hole. The bigger the roots, the bigger .the holes. We wept on for a ways,

and Number Two decided he had a mess of the whole affair and decided he was going to do
something about it. He did !' He just laid down ini the middle of the road right between the

shafts. Number Two had decided to balk.
Pa took the buggy whip out of its holder and hit that mule, but that animal just laid
there in that muddy road. Pa got out of the buggy, took hold of the bridle, and tried to pull
him up. He slapped him on the rump with his hand and did just about everything to get

Number Two to stand.
I think old Number Two just thought to himself, “You tied me to a tree and let me

take a drenching from all of that rain, got this old leather harness wet, and now you want me
to take you home while you sit up there in that buggy with a top on it and the side curtains

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