CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DANGER SIGNALS

I had promised myself that when it was time for Bob and Jack to marry I would keep my mouth shut and at least act like a Christian, but I had a lot of talking to do to myself to keep from acting like a silly fool. Bob's Phronie [Sophronia] and Jack's Hettie were good women, and I should have had the good sense to make friends with them right from the start.

By the time Lily was engaged to Dick Colton, I was almost enjoying the preparation for our daughter's wedding. Maybe it was because I liked Dick very much, or maybe I was begging for excitement to make me forget my troubles. Anyway, we went all out for this wedding, and Joe and I both agreed that it reminded us of our own wedding.

Lily and Dick had just the immediate family at the wedding, but the whole country at the "infare." You call it a wedding reception, don't you? There was a dance, of course, but we had better than the usual food, including baked chicken, salt-rising bread and dozens of pies and cakes.

I was sewing my head off to get Mettie's and my dresses ready and yet have plenty of time to take special pains with Lily's wedding dress. I had quite a decision to make-- should I keep the bustles on our dresses or not? We had heard that the Nicholas girls came to the last dance without bustles, and everybody laughed behind their backs at their flat back-sides. They had the last laugh, though, for that year the bustles went out of style.

I guess I worked too hard preparing for the wedding, or maybe I was worrying for fear Dick would hurry away with Lily. What ever the cause, I had a three-week siege of the rheumatism. My legs and arms were on fire, and hot needles were shooting into my bones. The opium pills, for once, were not easing the pain enough, so I doubled the doses, and before I knew it, I was out of opium.

I remember calling to Lily, "Come here, Lily. I've got to get to the doctor. I've run out of medicine, and I can not stand this pain another minute."

Dick will take you, Ma. I'll take care of everything while you're gone. Let's hurry and get ready." Then Lily looked at me carefully and said, "Ma, couldn't Dick go to get the medicine for you? I don't think you should make this trip."

I answered her very quickly, "No, there's a new doctor, and I have to explain about my case before he'll give me the medicine."

"What's the name of the medicine, Ma?"

"I.... I... It's called a pain killer. That's all I know."

But an inner voice, "Angie, you do know what it is, and you are lying to your own child."

It was late in the day when Dick and I arrived at the agency. The negro doctor and his wife couldn't have been kinder to me, and when the doctor handed me my medicine, he said, "Mrs. Browning, you must be careful. Don't use this unless the pain becomes unbearable. It is habit-forming, and if it gets a hold on a person, he can't do without it."

I assured him, in my politist manner, that I would be very careful, but my cunning mind was saying, "I don't ever intend to be without it again."

It was much too late for Dick and me to start home that night; so there was nothing to do but ask if we could stay overnight at the doctor's home. The doctor's wife was very cordial, but I could see she was embarrassed. She said very quickly, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Browning, but we only have two beds. You will have to sleep with me and Mr. Colton with the doctor."

"That's perfectly all right." Dick and I both said it, and we meant it, but my malicious, cunning mind was working against me, "Wouldn't all Joe's uppity southern kin have a fit. I hope somebody tells them."

When we were ready to get into the clean feather bed, the negro lady said, "I'll stay æway over to my side so you won't have to touch me."

"Don't you worry about that one minute. I'm might glad to be in a bed tonight."

I was so ashamed I couldn't go off to sleep for quite a while. I was thinking that negro lady should have been worrying whether I touched her instead of the other way around. I was the unclean one and I knew it.

These remorseful moment came frequently as the days went by, but I was defiantly taking larger doses at more frequent intervals. In two months my supply of opium was gone and I sent my Bert to the negro doctor. I couldn't wait for my young son to get in the house; I wanted him to hand me the package before he was even off his horse. "I'm sorry, Ma, but there's a new white doctor at the agency, and when I gave him your letter, he just looked mad as a bull and said to tell you he wouldn't send any of that kind of medicine now or ever."

I felt like Bert had hit me right in the face, and I crept to the side of my bed and knelt there for a while. I was honestly trying to pray, but my mind just turned blank. I reached over to pick up Ruth's Bible, but I wouldn't even open it. I excused myself with, "I'm too nervous to read." But my inner voice said, "You're afraid to read."

I walked miles; I cleaned the whole house; I dug in the garden, but nothing would stop that awful craving. There were some pains in my legs and arms, but I couldn't use that for an excuse any more. I wanted opium. On the fifth day, Jack and Hettie came to visit me. I think Joe must have sent for them.

I was at the end of my rope, else I never would have talked to Hettie. I can tell you now that she was the last person I wanted to ask for help. I had several things against her. First of all, she had married my handsomest son, and she was just a farmer's daughter!"

I had expected her and Jack to live with us at least a year; all the others had. But Jack came to tell me exactly what Hettie had said. "Jack, I have a nice home where I am. Unless you provide us with our own home, I think I'll stay where I am."

She got that nice ranch house about two miles down the canyon from us, and it wasn't long until I realized this farmer girl could cook, clean, garden, sew, read, write and spell as well as or better than I. I had met my match, and I knew it. I could no longer be called the smartest damn woman in these mountains.

Actually, Hettie Belle McNatt Browning was a kind and sympathetic woman, and when she walked into my house she could see I was ill.

"Is your rheumatism bothering today, Ma?"

That soft, concerned voice broke me down, and I could feel the tears coming, but I wasn't going to let her see me cry. Before I could think, I was blurting out with, "I've got to talk to somebody! I'm going crazy! I suppose you will turn tail and run, being you're such a good Christian, but I'm tellin' you anyway. I'm a dope fiend, and I've run out of opium. The doctor won't let me have it any more."

"Come on, Ma. Let's go for a walk where we can be alone. Maybe we can figure out something."

When Bert came in for his noon meal, Hettie told him I wasn't able to make the trip to the doctor, but she would send a note to the doctor. I had no idea what she wrote, but Bert came back with the medicine.

I found out later Jack really put Hettie on the grill with his questions, "Is Ma in danger? Is she that sick? What is the medicine she's taking? Why did you send Bert? I would have been glad to go."

Hettie had already figured out her answer. She wasn't about to tell a bare-faced lie, but she had given me a promise. "Your mother is a very sick women. She is going through the "change of life," and it's very hard on her. I sent Bert to get some kind of medicine to quiet her down. She can't go on like this."

That crisis was past, and I did begin to feel a lot better, but I was flattering myself that the little pill just once a week was doing no harm at all.

Then a happy time came. It was early spring of 1895 when Joe and I heard that Bud Browning and his Jennie were coming to visit us. Bud was now what the mountain folks called "well heeled," and he and Jennie were enjoying a real vacation. It was good to see two brothers having such good times together.

When Bud and Jennie were ready to go home they begged me to go back with them. I was none too enthusiastic, but Joe kept digging at me. He said I needed a long rest, and Jennie and Hettie joined in on the chorus, and the next thing I knew, I was heading for Texas.

We went by wagon to El Paso, then took a train to Fort Worth and Weatherford. Here I was, nearing fifty, and having my first train ride. Jennie and Bud said no kind could have more fun. I couldn't believe we could travel that fast.

I had never in all my life seen such a house as Jennie's. I decided very quickly that Bud Browning must be a millionaire! It would take a mint to furnish such a house in that fashion. Jennie had store bought rugs that covered the whole floor, beautiful curtains on every window, polished furniture all over the place, and wonder of wonders, beautiful paintings where ever you looked.

I lived on excitement for a whole month, and Bud and Jennie were so good to show me how the country had changed, where the old friends were living, what ranchers were trying new-fangled ideas. I was beginning to get homesick for my own family, and I couldn't stay too much longer, for those pills wouldn't last me another month.

When I was home again, Jack and Hettie rushed over to introduce me to my very new grandson, Jerome Arrol Browning. I was flabbergasted that a little baby would have such a fancy name, but I knew Hettie would search her books for a special name. Jack grinned his little-boy grin and said, "Ma, this is Mr. JAB, the Second."

Joe and I just smiled at each other. That was a nice thing to do. Some of us thought the baby was all Browning when it came to looks' others could see he was all McNatt, but I knew the day would come when Joe, even, would agree that Arrol was the spittin' image of my Pa, Thomas McCarty.