The Wimpy Sister

 

For some reason God sent me to be the wimpy sister. I was the last girl (until Donna came along five years later) of 5 girls in a row. I was blonde and frail, skinny and weak, wimpy and winey. I think I was all of those because I learned that if you were tough and strong, durable and robust, you didn't get as much attention. If I was sick, my precious Mother would rub my feet and spend a few precious moments on just me. So out of pure necessity, I was the wimpy, sick one.  Helen, Ruth and Beth milked and fed the cows. They would have to buck 200lb bales of hay into a truck so they could feed the range cows. They could ride horses like the rodeo stars. They were tough as nails and strong. They would win every arm wresting contest from all the city boys that dared come up to our mountain. Le Roy was the softest, ugliest and weirdest of all of Helen's suitors. He had a brother, Larry, who was SO hairy you hardly new what color his skin was. We knew Helen could take care of herself. One punch and she would have knocked him flat on his ass.  One time Doyle, a city boy from a polygamist group in Montana, came out to the ranch. He was there to check out my sisters. Word had gotten out that there were some hot chicks out in the woods. He was about 5 10, 175lbs. Compared to Le Roy, Dolye was very handsome. The best way to see if he was worth anything was to take him with us and see if he could keep up. We, us girls, had to go get a big load of hay for the cows from a neighboring ranch. Well, he thought he was all that and he wanted to show off his muscles.  OMG. My sisters could out buck him and out everything him. We were not impressed. It gets worse. So Doyle thought he knew how to stack hay on a truck. Helen tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen. It was a big truck, we had at least 150 bales of hay loaded on it. When it was all loaded we looked at each other and thought, well, I hope we make it home with out our load falling off.
Dolye, being the male had to drive, and me being the youngest got to sit next to him because my sisters where not about to. There was no way to make it home and not bump into him. There were 4 of us teenage girls and a wimpy man crammed into the cab of that old truck. It was a stick shift so of course his arm rested on my leg every time he shifted gears. The ride home was tense. Not much conversing going on. The road home is extremely dangerous, with twists and turns, sharp corners and high cliffs, with a reservoir to boot. By now us girls knew that road like the back of our hand. We could close our eyes and we knew where we were just by feeling the turns and hills. I spent many trips home over that dirt road praying that God would spare my life. Please God, help us get home safe. When our Father or brothers drove, they liked to see how fast they could take the corners or catch air on the hills. If we dared to say, "Please slow down", they would go faster. So praying was our only option. Now we knew Dolye didn't know our road, and we were to polite to tell him how to drive. Sure enough, here comes a dangerous corner. I started praying. He was going too fast when he realized there was a sharp turn. Looking back, I remember it felt like the truck was tipped on two wheels. God took his hand and tipped the truck back on its tires and back on the road, with only half of our load down in the raven. There was no way we were going to get those bales up that steep hill. It was dead silence in that truck the rest of the way home. Dolye helped us unload what bales were left. Then he got in his truck and we never saw him again. He was probably scarred for life, but thanks to God, we are still here to tell our story. It was going to take a real man to sweep my amazing sisters off their feet.    Love Lilly