Reford Lee Bailey

While working at the Range Cafe, I made friends with a divorced man who was the main cook. His name was Reford Bailey. He liked my looks and so he started asking me questions. He knew I was LDS, so to get my attention, he started asking questions about the Church. I thought he was sincere, but later learned it was his way of getting me interested in him. He then began bringing me little gifts such as necklaces and perfume. Of course, I liked him better all the time, and he seemed genuinely fond of my children. On the 4th of July he took all four children downtown and bought each of them a pair of fancy cowboy boots. They were all thrilled. He would even go up to my home after his shift ended and do my ironing— which was a lot—so I started locking my door—something I’d never done before. Then to impress me, he would buy a large box of groceries and leave them on my doorstep. I tried to discourage him, but finally he won out. We started going together. He had three teenage children living with him. His children liked me and I liked them. So Ray and I were married October 11, 1951, in Thermopolis, Wyoming. After our marriage, however, he wasn’t as interested in the LDS faith as he had been before our marriage. Before we got married even though I couldn’t attend Church, he would go. All of that soon stopped after we were married. Reford (Ray as I called him) was a hard worker and tried hard to support all of us. The Social Security check for me stopped after we were married, but I received it for the four children: Edwin, Beverly, John and Alan until they turned 18 years old. I was especially grateful for the Society Security check because it provided clothing, piano lessons, and helped us get a nice car. The money was God-sent during those hard years. -Marjorie Eyre

Leah Rae Bailey was born in Cody on June 9, 1952, to Ray and I. She was a beautiful, gifted, blond child who was much loved by Ray’s children and mine. While she was still an infant, we noticed that her eyes never stopped moving and that her hair and skin were so white. We wondered if she was an albino. I took her to an eye specialist in Billings. The doctor said that she didn’t have enough pigment in her skin, and that she needed glasses to improve her eyesight. When she could talk it was determined she was legally blind, that she could only distinguish the difference between light and dark objects. The two families all got along fairly well except—John. He didn’t get along with Ray’s son, Jerry—who tried to boss John around. A few weeks after Leah was born, Ray went to Thermopolis to work as a chef at the hotel, so we moved there to be with him. Our rented home was small for the 10 of us, but we managed somehow. There was a nice branch of the Church in Thermopolis where we became close to a family named Colgrove—Ed and Rosa. Rosa and I played cupid. We lined up my brother Alvin, who wasn’t married, with Rosa’s girlfriend from school whose name was Cleo Scholz. They fell in love and were married on February 17, 1953. -Marjorie Eyre

After nearly a year, Ray was burned out by working at the hotel. We decided to lease a cafe in Worland, which was about 30 miles north of Thermopolis, so we moved again. In Worland, we ran our own restaurant, but before long, we knew that we couldn’t afford stay in business for ourselves because we weren’t making enough money. In Worland, we found a much larger, nicer home across the street from the Worland High School. We became active in the local ward. Ray would go to Church with me off and on. We had the missionaries teach him several times during our marriage, but he never joined the Church. He was always courteous enough to the missionaries who came, but he never joined. During that time, Leah was just big enough to stand on her tiptoes and tried to play the piano. When she was placed on the piano bench, she picked out a popular tune sung by Doris Day on the radio, the name of the tune was, “How Much Is that Dog in the Window?” When Leah was in high school, it was discovered that she had perfect pitch and could hear a song once and memorize it. She was very musical, and she composed and arranged music. The following summer, Bob Hardy, Jack’s uncle, came to see us and wanted us to move to Miles City, Montana. He had a million acre ranch, called the LO Ranch, about 60 miles south and east of Miles City. I had been to the ranch once before—right after Jack died. Bob Hardy wanted Ray and I and the children to move up there. I didn’t want to go, but when Bob Hardy suggested to Ray that we come up to Miles City to work on the ranch, he was anxious to go. So we moved in late September. Bob Hardy sent a large truck to help us move. We moved into a 75-year old log cabin which was vacant a long time before we moved in. What a let down. There was no running water, no gas range, no electricity, and no indoor plumb¬ing. We bought a gas operated refrigerator, shortly after our arrival. I used an old gas operated wringer-washing machine outside which put off enough smoke to stop the mosquitoes from being a bother. -Marjorie Eyre

Ed, Beverly, John, and Alan started school in a one-room schoolhouse on the ranch. The kids were the only students, other than JoAnn Hardy (Bob and Mary Hardy’s daughter), who attended school on the ranch. Each day one of the students was assigned to go over to the school and start a fire in the wood burning stove, so the school would be warm when the rest of them arrived. John nearly burned the school down when it was his turn. He made a small fire with kindling, and it burned brightly for a few seconds, but then smoldered with only a few embers still glowing. He took the kerosene can and threw some on the glowing embers. The stove acted like a dragon belching a huge flame out of the open door. He was lucky that he wasn’t hurt or the school didn’t burn down. At that time Alan was in the third grade. He asked the teacher named, Carmel Aguirre, if he could go to the toilet (which was an outhouse located outside the school). She told him, “No!” and if he asked again, he would have to kneel in the corner. Well, the poor kid needed to go, so he asked again. After a little while of kneeling in the corner, he urinated on the floor. That made her really mad, so she put his hand in hers and was going to strike his knuckles with a ruler. He pulled his hand away just as she was on the down stroke and she hit her own hand. That made her even more mad, but the second time, she held his hand tightly and really struck his knuckles hard. Carmel was Bob Hardy’s sister-in-law. She was the sister of his wife Mary. She was a Mexican girl who had not gone to college and had no teaching credentials and was only to be temporary teacher. Ray was impressed with the ranch until the cattle drive started. After his first 14-hour day on a poky old horse, he was so stiff that he could barely walk to the house. Up til then, we had not been paid. Groceries were getting scarce. When we got our first check, it was only $100.00 for a month’s work. When Alan came home that day and showed me his hand and told me what had happened, I was so angry. I told Ray that we were getting out of there. I went to Bob and told him we were leaving and I wanted a truck to move. After he saw Alan’s hand, he didn’t argue. The next day Ray went into Miles City and found a job right away. His employer let him start his job the same day we moved to town, so he was not available to help us move. The four older children and I had to load the household goods on that flatbed truck. With all their help, we lifted the refrigerator and the piano onto the truck. I was eight months pregnant with Deborah Kay at that time. -Marjorie Eyre

I found a small house in town which looked like a palace compared to the shack we’d been living in on the ranch. Another move and another school, but after the one-room schoolhouse on the ranch, the children didn’t complain. It wasn’t long until they had new friends and appeared to be happy again. On November 13, 1953, I went to a Catholic hospital in Miles City where Deborah Kay Bailey was born. She had bright red hair—just like mine. When we lived on the ranch, we had a sixty-mile drive each way to Church. It was a branch which met in a small house near the high school. Blaine Eddington was the branch president. I was called as a counselor in the Primary again. -Marjorie Eyre

Sometime during the month of December, my father became very ill, and as soon as I was notified that he’d been hospitalized, I put new tires on our car and loaded all six children into the car and left during a snowstorm. We put blankets and food in the trunk and headed for Lovell, a distance of nearly 250 miles. The Lord surely blessed us because as we traveled there were dozens of cars off the road. During the trip we came to a long, steep hill. There were many cars which were not able to make it up the hill because it was so slick. At the sight of the hill I said a silent prayer and gave the car all the gas I could; and we went right up the hill and on to my parents’ home. Beverly kept vomiting all along the road. I thought she was carsick. Every once in a while I’d stop the car for her, but by the time we got to my parents’ home, she was really ill. Mother called the family doctor, Dr. Horsley. He came to the house and examined Beverly. He didn’t think it was too serious, but as the night wore on she became sicker by the minute. By that time the snow had stopped, so I placed her on the back seat of the car, where she could lay down, and took her to Powell to see Dr. Katenhorn. He was the same doctor who helped during Jack’s illness. Dr. Katenhorn ran some tests and confirmed that she had appendicitis. By the next morning, she was minus her appendix, and she improved quickly. After a couple of days, Dad was up and a¬round again. The weather had improved, so I got the children in the car and we were on our way home to our small house, which had bright pink walls, and a wall heater in every room, and to our dad and husband. Ray didn’t go with us since he had only started his new job a short time before and he didn’t have any vacation leave accrued. We needed his income for food, rent, and other necessities, so he stayed and worked. What a winter 1953–54 was, even with a headbolt heater on the car, it wouldn’t start at 53° below zero. Ray had to walk the six or seven blocks to his job. When he came home from the night shift at the cafe, he had to kick the door open because there was a band of ice all around the door. All the wall heaters were lit and on high. I understood why there was a heater in every room. We were comfortable inside though. The weather remained that cold for nearly a week. Then in February a chinook wind (warm wind) blew in and warmed us up. The temperature rose to 40° and the kids thought we had a heat wave. They took their coats off while they played outside as though it were summer. About the end of April, we moved back to Lovell. We stayed with my folks until Ray found work in two or three weeks. He went to work at Pahaska Teepe, a tourist resort about 100 miles from Lovell. He work¬ed at the Buffalo Bill Cody Lodge. He left me the car. On his days off, the kids and I would go up to see him. After our arrival, we were sitting in the car, and Leah who was almost three-years-old said, “Mom, is this Ta-hasta Pee-pee?” We all had a good laugh—even though it made her feel bad. We still laugh as we think of her comment that day. Debbie was seven months old. She missed her daddy. As we sat in the car and wondered where to look for Ray, Debbie started to cry. I looked at her and could see she was looking out the back window of the car—then I could see why she was crying. She could see her dad coming up the road behind us carrying his fishing pole. She was small, but she was so happy to see him. When he got to the car she kissed him and made such a fuss over him. He decided that if she missed him so much that he had better find work closer to his little ones. He worked at Manderson, which is between Ther-mopolis and Worland, for awhile. Then he found a job in Cody so we moved there. -Marjorie Eyre

Living in Cody again that Rodney Garrett Bailey was born February 10, 1955. He struggled for life during the first three months. The doctors gave him shots of penicillin time after time. He had a bowel blockage and many other problems. After taking him to every doctor in Cody to no avail, I took him to Billings to a pediatrician. He took one look and ordered a blood test, which none of the other doctors had done. In a short time, he told me that Rodney had no white blood cells to fight off infection. He gave the baby a gamma globulin shot. Shortly thereafter Rodney stopped crying and began to improve. While at the pediatricians, we also found out that Rodney was legally blind—the same as his older sister, Leah, who had also been born legally blind. The poor little guy was cute with his curly bright red hair, but after that doctor’s visit he began to make progress. He did so many cute things. He was always so spiritual and full of faith—and because of his faith miracles happened. I had received an answer to my prayers, because I had prayed desperately and asked our Father in Heaven to help me know what to do, and almost immediately there came into my mind, “Take him to Billings!” So Ray and I and Rodney were off to see the doctor in Billings. -Marjorie Eyre

When Rodney was nine months old, I got an urgent phone call. Mom said Dad had been in an accident and was in the hospital, and he was asking for me to come. In a few minutes, I had the children in the car headed for Lovell which was 50 miles away. Upon arrival, I went directly to the hospital and to my father’s room. He was very low, but he looked up and said, “Thank goodness you’re here.” He closed his eyes and died. The family then told me Dad was driving his team which pulled a hay wagon alongside the highway as he gathered hay for winter feed. All of a sudden the wind blew a piece of paper up in front of his horses. One of them hadn’t been broke to pull the wagon very long. The paper spooked him and he bolted—causing the wagon to lurch, which turned the wagon over and the load of hay landed on top of Dad. A neighbor saw the accident happen. He dug Dad out from under the hay and got him to the hospital. He notified mother, and she called me. As we rushed to Lovell that October day in 1955, Ed had a stick he was playing with in the back seat. I told him to throw it out, so as we crossed over a canal near “Chim¬ney Rock,” he threw the stick out the back window. The stick caught Alan’s new glasses which I’d just paid for before we left home. Needless to say, I had to order Alan a new pair of glasses on top of everything else that had happened that dreadful day. I miss Dad very much. He was a special leader whom I loved and looked up to for spiritual strength. Dad had a special rapport with horses all his life. He loved horses more than most, but it was unfortunate to have his life taken by one of his horses he loved so dearly. I recalled the many times I’d watched him break wild mustangs. He also rode bucking horses in rodeos. He’d talk to them while he taught them to pull together and taught them teamwork. Again, we moved back to Lovell. Ray found work at Dud’s Cafe. I worked as a waitress at the same place while there, the same as I had done in most of the towns we lived in. We found a house—probably the nicest house we’d ever had. There was a place to raise a lovely garden. While living there, Leah started to kindergarten and started taking piano lessons when she was five. I invited Johnny Tippetts, my first cou¬sin, who lived across the street, and who was our home teacher, to administer to Leah and give her a priesthood blessing for her eyes. I asked Johnny, because I didn’t have the higher priesthood in my home. Ed and Beverly were in high school, John was in junior high, and Alan was in grade school while we lived in Lovell this time. Ed and Beverly were popular in school and had many friends. John was also popular. He and Beverly were dance directors at Mutual as they prepared for a stake dance festival. They were all active in the Church. I was proud of them. Marjorie Eyre

In February 1958, we moved to Riverton. The children were active in school. Ed was the student body president, Beverly was a cheerleader. Ed was active in football and wrestling. John was in madrigals. Alan was in basketball. A moth¬er stays busy in keeping up with an active family. I worked at the Frontier Cafe and Chopping’s Cafe in Riverton. Ed and Beverly graduated from Riverton High School in May 1960. In the fall of 1961, we moved to Lander, which is 25 miles south of Riverton. John was a senior in high school and wanted to complete his school¬ing in Riverton, so I allowed him to stay, if he could find a place to live and to support himself. Bill and Ann Carter, who owned the Frontier Cafe in River¬ton, and the Nuway Cafe in Lander, permitted him to live the their basement apartment at no charge. Ray worked as a chef in both restaurant. Alan played basketball at Lander High School. Nearly a year later, we decided to move to Rock Springs, a friendly town. However, after one winter in Rock Springs, I was the one who suggested we move to Utah. Rock Springs was on the prairie and had so much wind—and I hate wind. The temperatures dropped to 54° below zero. I’d heard that Utah had milder winters, plus with young college-age children, we decided to move to Orem. John, the third child, had been attending BYU during the fall of 1962, while we lived in Rock Springs. He drop¬ped out of school because he didn’t have enough money. He work¬ed at a floral in Provo, but it didn’t provide enough money to get through college. That is what gave me the inspiration to move to Utah, thinking that maybe if the kids lived at home, and with a part-time job, they could get a college education. -Marjorie Eyre

While working at the Range Cafe, I made friends with a divorced man who was the main cook. His name was Reford Bailey. He liked my looks and so he started asking me questions. He knew I was LDS, so to get my attention, he started asking questions about the Church. I thought he was sincere, but later learned it was his way of getting me interested in him. He then began bringing me little gifts such as necklaces and perfume. Of course, I liked him better all the time, and he seemed genuinely fond of my children. On the 4th of July he took all four children downtown and bought each of them a pair of fancy cowboy boots. They were all thrilled. He would even go up to my home after his shift ended and do my ironing— which was a lot—so I started locking my door—something I’d never done before. Then to impress me, he would buy a large box of groceries and leave them on my doorstep. I tried to discourage him, but finally he won out. We started going together. He had three teenage children living with him. His children liked me and I liked them. So Ray and I were married October 11, 1951, in Thermopolis, Wyoming. After our marriage, however, he wasn’t as interested in the LDS faith as he had been before our marriage. Before we got married even though I couldn’t attend Church, he would go. All of that soon stopped after we were married. Reford (Ray as I called him) was a hard worker and tried hard to support all of us. The Social Security check for me stopped after we were married, but I received it for the four children: Edwin, Beverly, John and Alan until they turned 18 years old. I was especially grateful for the Society Security check because it provided clothing, piano lessons, and helped us get a nice car. The money was God-sent during those hard years. -Marjorie Eyre

Leah Rae Bailey was born in Cody on June 9, 1952, to Ray and I. She was a beautiful, gifted, blond child who was much loved by Ray’s children and mine. While she was still an infant, we noticed that her eyes never stopped moving and that her hair and skin were so white. We wondered if she was an albino. I took her to an eye specialist in Billings. The doctor said that she didn’t have enough pigment in her skin, and that she needed glasses to improve her eyesight. When she could talk it was determined she was legally blind, that she could only distinguish the difference between light and dark objects. The two families all got along fairly well except—John. He didn’t get along with Ray’s son, Jerry—who tried to boss John around. A few weeks after Leah was born, Ray went to Thermopolis to work as a chef at the hotel, so we moved there to be with him. Our rented home was small for the 10 of us, but we managed somehow. There was a nice branch of the Church in Thermopolis where we became close to a family named Colgrove—Ed and Rosa. Rosa and I played cupid. We lined up my brother Alvin, who wasn’t married, with Rosa’s girlfriend from school whose name was Cleo Scholz. They fell in love and were married on February 17, 1953. -Marjorie Eyre

After nearly a year, Ray was burned out by working at the hotel. We decided to lease a cafe in Worland, which was about 30 miles north of Thermopolis, so we moved again. In Worland, we ran our own restaurant, but before long, we knew that we couldn’t afford stay in business for ourselves because we weren’t making enough money. In Worland, we found a much larger, nicer home across the street from the Worland High School. We became active in the local ward. Ray would go to Church with me off and on. We had the missionaries teach him several times during our marriage, but he never joined the Church. He was always courteous enough to the missionaries who came, but he never joined. During that time, Leah was just big enough to stand on her tiptoes and tried to play the piano. When she was placed on the piano bench, she picked out a popular tune sung by Doris Day on the radio, the name of the tune was, “How Much Is that Dog in the Window?” When Leah was in high school, it was discovered that she had perfect pitch and could hear a song once and memorize it. She was very musical, and she composed and arranged music. The following summer, Bob Hardy, Jack’s uncle, came to see us and wanted us to move to Miles City, Montana. He had a million acre ranch, called the LO Ranch, about 60 miles south and east of Miles City. I had been to the ranch once before—right after Jack died. Bob Hardy wanted Ray and I and the children to move up there. I didn’t want to go, but when Bob Hardy suggested to Ray that we come up to Miles City to work on the ranch, he was anxious to go. So we moved in late September. Bob Hardy sent a large truck to help us move. We moved into a 75-year old log cabin which was vacant a long time before we moved in. What a let down. There was no running water, no gas range, no electricity, and no indoor plumb¬ing. We bought a gas operated refrigerator, shortly after our arrival. I used an old gas operated wringer-washing machine outside which put off enough smoke to stop the mosquitoes from being a bother. -Marjorie Eyre

Ed, Beverly, John, and Alan started school in a one-room schoolhouse on the ranch. The kids were the only students, other than JoAnn Hardy (Bob and Mary Hardy’s daughter), who attended school on the ranch. Each day one of the students was assigned to go over to the school and start a fire in the wood burning stove, so the school would be warm when the rest of them arrived. John nearly burned the school down when it was his turn. He made a small fire with kindling, and it burned brightly for a few seconds, but then smoldered with only a few embers still glowing. He took the kerosene can and threw some on the glowing embers. The stove acted like a dragon belching a huge flame out of the open door. He was lucky that he wasn’t hurt or the school didn’t burn down. At that time Alan was in the third grade. He asked the teacher named, Carmel Aguirre, if he could go to the toilet (which was an outhouse located outside the school). She told him, “No!” and if he asked again, he would have to kneel in the corner. Well, the poor kid needed to go, so he asked again. After a little while of kneeling in the corner, he urinated on the floor. That made her really mad, so she put his hand in hers and was going to strike his knuckles with a ruler. He pulled his hand away just as she was on the down stroke and she hit her own hand. That made her even more mad, but the second time, she held his hand tightly and really struck his knuckles hard. Carmel was Bob Hardy’s sister-in-law. She was the sister of his wife Mary. She was a Mexican girl who had not gone to college and had no teaching credentials and was only to be temporary teacher. Ray was impressed with the ranch until the cattle drive started. After his first 14-hour day on a poky old horse, he was so stiff that he could barely walk to the house. Up til then, we had not been paid. Groceries were getting scarce. When we got our first check, it was only $100.00 for a month’s work. When Alan came home that day and showed me his hand and told me what had happened, I was so angry. I told Ray that we were getting out of there. I went to Bob and told him we were leaving and I wanted a truck to move. After he saw Alan’s hand, he didn’t argue. The next day Ray went into Miles City and found a job right away. His employer let him start his job the same day we moved to town, so he was not available to help us move. The four older children and I had to load the household goods on that flatbed truck. With all their help, we lifted the refrigerator and the piano onto the truck. I was eight months pregnant with Deborah Kay at that time. -Marjorie Eyre

I found a small house in town which looked like a palace compared to the shack we’d been living in on the ranch. Another move and another school, but after the one-room schoolhouse on the ranch, the children didn’t complain. It wasn’t long until they had new friends and appeared to be happy again. On November 13, 1953, I went to a Catholic hospital in Miles City where Deborah Kay Bailey was born. She had bright red hair—just like mine. When we lived on the ranch, we had a sixty-mile drive each way to Church. It was a branch which met in a small house near the high school. Blaine Eddington was the branch president. I was called as a counselor in the Primary again. -Marjorie Eyre

Sometime during the month of December, my father became very ill, and as soon as I was notified that he’d been hospitalized, I put new tires on our car and loaded all six children into the car and left during a snowstorm. We put blankets and food in the trunk and headed for Lovell, a distance of nearly 250 miles. The Lord surely blessed us because as we traveled there were dozens of cars off the road. During the trip we came to a long, steep hill. There were many cars which were not able to make it up the hill because it was so slick. At the sight of the hill I said a silent prayer and gave the car all the gas I could; and we went right up the hill and on to my parents’ home. Beverly kept vomiting all along the road. I thought she was carsick. Every once in a while I’d stop the car for her, but by the time we got to my parents’ home, she was really ill. Mother called the family doctor, Dr. Horsley. He came to the house and examined Beverly. He didn’t think it was too serious, but as the night wore on she became sicker by the minute. By that time the snow had stopped, so I placed her on the back seat of the car, where she could lay down, and took her to Powell to see Dr. Katenhorn. He was the same doctor who helped during Jack’s illness. Dr. Katenhorn ran some tests and confirmed that she had appendicitis. By the next morning, she was minus her appendix, and she improved quickly. After a couple of days, Dad was up and a¬round again. The weather had improved, so I got the children in the car and we were on our way home to our small house, which had bright pink walls, and a wall heater in every room, and to our dad and husband. Ray didn’t go with us since he had only started his new job a short time before and he didn’t have any vacation leave accrued. We needed his income for food, rent, and other necessities, so he stayed and worked. What a winter 1953–54 was, even with a headbolt heater on the car, it wouldn’t start at 53° below zero. Ray had to walk the six or seven blocks to his job. When he came home from the night shift at the cafe, he had to kick the door open because there was a band of ice all around the door. All the wall heaters were lit and on high. I understood why there was a heater in every room. We were comfortable inside though. The weather remained that cold for nearly a week. Then in February a chinook wind (warm wind) blew in and warmed us up. The temperature rose to 40° and the kids thought we had a heat wave. They took their coats off while they played outside as though it were summer. About the end of April, we moved back to Lovell. We stayed with my folks until Ray found work in two or three weeks. He went to work at Pahaska Teepe, a tourist resort about 100 miles from Lovell. He work¬ed at the Buffalo Bill Cody Lodge. He left me the car. On his days off, the kids and I would go up to see him. After our arrival, we were sitting in the car, and Leah who was almost three-years-old said, “Mom, is this Ta-hasta Pee-pee?” We all had a good laugh—even though it made her feel bad. We still laugh as we think of her comment that day. Debbie was seven months old. She missed her daddy. As we sat in the car and wondered where to look for Ray, Debbie started to cry. I looked at her and could see she was looking out the back window of the car—then I could see why she was crying. She could see her dad coming up the road behind us carrying his fishing pole. She was small, but she was so happy to see him. When he got to the car she kissed him and made such a fuss over him. He decided that if she missed him so much that he had better find work closer to his little ones. He worked at Manderson, which is between Ther-mopolis and Worland, for awhile. Then he found a job in Cody so we moved there. -Marjorie Eyre

Living in Cody again that Rodney Garrett Bailey was born February 10, 1955. He struggled for life during the first three months. The doctors gave him shots of penicillin time after time. He had a bowel blockage and many other problems. After taking him to every doctor in Cody to no avail, I took him to Billings to a pediatrician. He took one look and ordered a blood test, which none of the other doctors had done. In a short time, he told me that Rodney had no white blood cells to fight off infection. He gave the baby a gamma globulin shot. Shortly thereafter Rodney stopped crying and began to improve. While at the pediatricians, we also found out that Rodney was legally blind—the same as his older sister, Leah, who had also been born legally blind. The poor little guy was cute with his curly bright red hair, but after that doctor’s visit he began to make progress. He did so many cute things. He was always so spiritual and full of faith—and because of his faith miracles happened. I had received an answer to my prayers, because I had prayed desperately and asked our Father in Heaven to help me know what to do, and almost immediately there came into my mind, “Take him to Billings!” So Ray and I and Rodney were off to see the doctor in Billings. -Marjorie Eyre

When Rodney was nine months old, I got an urgent phone call. Mom said Dad had been in an accident and was in the hospital, and he was asking for me to come. In a few minutes, I had the children in the car headed for Lovell which was 50 miles away. Upon arrival, I went directly to the hospital and to my father’s room. He was very low, but he looked up and said, “Thank goodness you’re here.” He closed his eyes and died. The family then told me Dad was driving his team which pulled a hay wagon alongside the highway as he gathered hay for winter feed. All of a sudden the wind blew a piece of paper up in front of his horses. One of them hadn’t been broke to pull the wagon very long. The paper spooked him and he bolted—causing the wagon to lurch, which turned the wagon over and the load of hay landed on top of Dad. A neighbor saw the accident happen. He dug Dad out from under the hay and got him to the hospital. He notified mother, and she called me. As we rushed to Lovell that October day in 1955, Ed had a stick he was playing with in the back seat. I told him to throw it out, so as we crossed over a canal near “Chim¬ney Rock,” he threw the stick out the back window. The stick caught Alan’s new glasses which I’d just paid for before we left home. Needless to say, I had to order Alan a new pair of glasses on top of everything else that had happened that dreadful day. I miss Dad very much. He was a special leader whom I loved and looked up to for spiritual strength. Dad had a special rapport with horses all his life. He loved horses more than most, but it was unfortunate to have his life taken by one of his horses he loved so dearly. I recalled the many times I’d watched him break wild mustangs. He also rode bucking horses in rodeos. He’d talk to them while he taught them to pull together and taught them teamwork. Again, we moved back to Lovell. Ray found work at Dud’s Cafe. I worked as a waitress at the same place while there, the same as I had done in most of the towns we lived in. We found a house—probably the nicest house we’d ever had. There was a place to raise a lovely garden. While living there, Leah started to kindergarten and started taking piano lessons when she was five. I invited Johnny Tippetts, my first cou¬sin, who lived across the street, and who was our home teacher, to administer to Leah and give her a priesthood blessing for her eyes. I asked Johnny, because I didn’t have the higher priesthood in my home. Ed and Beverly were in high school, John was in junior high, and Alan was in grade school while we lived in Lovell this time. Ed and Beverly were popular in school and had many friends. John was also popular. He and Beverly were dance directors at Mutual as they prepared for a stake dance festival. They were all active in the Church. I was proud of them. Marjorie Eyre

In February 1958, we moved to Riverton. The children were active in school. Ed was the student body president, Beverly was a cheerleader. Ed was active in football and wrestling. John was in madrigals. Alan was in basketball. A moth¬er stays busy in keeping up with an active family. I worked at the Frontier Cafe and Chopping’s Cafe in Riverton. Ed and Beverly graduated from Riverton High School in May 1960. In the fall of 1961, we moved to Lander, which is 25 miles south of Riverton. John was a senior in high school and wanted to complete his school¬ing in Riverton, so I allowed him to stay, if he could find a place to live and to support himself. Bill and Ann Carter, who owned the Frontier Cafe in River¬ton, and the Nuway Cafe in Lander, permitted him to live the their basement apartment at no charge. Ray worked as a chef in both restaurant. Alan played basketball at Lander High School. Nearly a year later, we decided to move to Rock Springs, a friendly town. However, after one winter in Rock Springs, I was the one who suggested we move to Utah. Rock Springs was on the prairie and had so much wind—and I hate wind. The temperatures dropped to 54° below zero. I’d heard that Utah had milder winters, plus with young college-age children, we decided to move to Orem. John, the third child, had been attending BYU during the fall of 1962, while we lived in Rock Springs. He drop¬ped out of school because he didn’t have enough money. He work¬ed at a floral in Provo, but it didn’t provide enough money to get through college. That is what gave me the inspiration to move to Utah, thinking that maybe if the kids lived at home, and with a part-time job, they could get a college education. -Marjorie Eyre

While working at the Range Cafe, I made friends with a divorced man who was the main cook. His name was Reford Bailey. He liked my looks and so he started asking me questions. He knew I was LDS, so to get my attention, he started asking questions about the Church. I thought he was sincere, but later learned it was his way of getting me interested in him. He then began bringing me little gifts such as necklaces and perfume. Of course, I liked him better all the time, and he seemed genuinely fond of my children. On the 4th of July he took all four children downtown and bought each of them a pair of fancy cowboy boots. They were all thrilled. He would even go up to my home after his shift ended and do my ironing— which was a lot—so I started locking my door—something I’d never done before. Then to impress me, he would buy a large box of groceries and leave them on my doorstep. I tried to discourage him, but finally he won out. We started going together. He had three teenage children living with him. His children liked me and I liked them. So Ray and I were married October 11, 1951, in Thermopolis, Wyoming. After our marriage, however, he wasn’t as interested in the LDS faith as he had been before our marriage. Before we got married even though I couldn’t attend Church, he would go. All of that soon stopped after we were married. Reford (Ray as I called him) was a hard worker and tried hard to support all of us. The Social Security check for me stopped after we were married, but I received it for the four children: Edwin, Beverly, John and Alan until they turned 18 years old. I was especially grateful for the Society Security check because it provided clothing, piano lessons, and helped us get a nice car. The money was God-sent during those hard years. -Marjorie Eyre

Leah Rae Bailey was born in Cody on June 9, 1952, to Ray and I. She was a beautiful, gifted, blond child who was much loved by Ray’s children and mine. While she was still an infant, we noticed that her eyes never stopped moving and that her hair and skin were so white. We wondered if she was an albino. I took her to an eye specialist in Billings. The doctor said that she didn’t have enough pigment in her skin, and that she needed glasses to improve her eyesight. When she could talk it was determined she was legally blind, that she could only distinguish the difference between light and dark objects. The two families all got along fairly well except—John. He didn’t get along with Ray’s son, Jerry—who tried to boss John around. A few weeks after Leah was born, Ray went to Thermopolis to work as a chef at the hotel, so we moved there to be with him. Our rented home was small for the 10 of us, but we managed somehow. There was a nice branch of the Church in Thermopolis where we became close to a family named Colgrove—Ed and Rosa. Rosa and I played cupid. We lined up my brother Alvin, who wasn’t married, with Rosa’s girlfriend from school whose name was Cleo Scholz. They fell in love and were married on February 17, 1953. -Marjorie Eyre

After nearly a year, Ray was burned out by working at the hotel. We decided to lease a cafe in Worland, which was about 30 miles north of Thermopolis, so we moved again. In Worland, we ran our own restaurant, but before long, we knew that we couldn’t afford stay in business for ourselves because we weren’t making enough money. In Worland, we found a much larger, nicer home across the street from the Worland High School. We became active in the local ward. Ray would go to Church with me off and on. We had the missionaries teach him several times during our marriage, but he never joined the Church. He was always courteous enough to the missionaries who came, but he never joined. During that time, Leah was just big enough to stand on her tiptoes and tried to play the piano. When she was placed on the piano bench, she picked out a popular tune sung by Doris Day on the radio, the name of the tune was, “How Much Is that Dog in the Window?” When Leah was in high school, it was discovered that she had perfect pitch and could hear a song once and memorize it. She was very musical, and she composed and arranged music. The following summer, Bob Hardy, Jack’s uncle, came to see us and wanted us to move to Miles City, Montana. He had a million acre ranch, called the LO Ranch, about 60 miles south and east of Miles City. I had been to the ranch once before—right after Jack died. Bob Hardy wanted Ray and I and the children to move up there. I didn’t want to go, but when Bob Hardy suggested to Ray that we come up to Miles City to work on the ranch, he was anxious to go. So we moved in late September. Bob Hardy sent a large truck to help us move. We moved into a 75-year old log cabin which was vacant a long time before we moved in. What a let down. There was no running water, no gas range, no electricity, and no indoor plumb¬ing. We bought a gas operated refrigerator, shortly after our arrival. I used an old gas operated wringer-washing machine outside which put off enough smoke to stop the mosquitoes from being a bother. -Marjorie Eyre

Ed, Beverly, John, and Alan started school in a one-room schoolhouse on the ranch. The kids were the only students, other than JoAnn Hardy (Bob and Mary Hardy’s daughter), who attended school on the ranch. Each day one of the students was assigned to go over to the school and start a fire in the wood burning stove, so the school would be warm when the rest of them arrived. John nearly burned the school down when it was his turn. He made a small fire with kindling, and it burned brightly for a few seconds, but then smoldered with only a few embers still glowing. He took the kerosene can and threw some on the glowing embers. The stove acted like a dragon belching a huge flame out of the open door. He was lucky that he wasn’t hurt or the school didn’t burn down. At that time Alan was in the third grade. He asked the teacher named, Carmel Aguirre, if he could go to the toilet (which was an outhouse located outside the school). She told him, “No!” and if he asked again, he would have to kneel in the corner. Well, the poor kid needed to go, so he asked again. After a little while of kneeling in the corner, he urinated on the floor. That made her really mad, so she put his hand in hers and was going to strike his knuckles with a ruler. He pulled his hand away just as she was on the down stroke and she hit her own hand. That made her even more mad, but the second time, she held his hand tightly and really struck his knuckles hard. Carmel was Bob Hardy’s sister-in-law. She was the sister of his wife Mary. She was a Mexican girl who had not gone to college and had no teaching credentials and was only to be temporary teacher. Ray was impressed with the ranch until the cattle drive started. After his first 14-hour day on a poky old horse, he was so stiff that he could barely walk to the house. Up til then, we had not been paid. Groceries were getting scarce. When we got our first check, it was only $100.00 for a month’s work. When Alan came home that day and showed me his hand and told me what had happened, I was so angry. I told Ray that we were getting out of there. I went to Bob and told him we were leaving and I wanted a truck to move. After he saw Alan’s hand, he didn’t argue. The next day Ray went into Miles City and found a job right away. His employer let him start his job the same day we moved to town, so he was not available to help us move. The four older children and I had to load the household goods on that flatbed truck. With all their help, we lifted the refrigerator and the piano onto the truck. I was eight months pregnant with Deborah Kay at that time. -Marjorie Eyre

I found a small house in town which looked like a palace compared to the shack we’d been living in on the ranch. Another move and another school, but after the one-room schoolhouse on the ranch, the children didn’t complain. It wasn’t long until they had new friends and appeared to be happy again. On November 13, 1953, I went to a Catholic hospital in Miles City where Deborah Kay Bailey was born. She had bright red hair—just like mine. When we lived on the ranch, we had a sixty-mile drive each way to Church. It was a branch which met in a small house near the high school. Blaine Eddington was the branch president. I was called as a counselor in the Primary again. -Marjorie Eyre

Sometime during the month of December, my father became very ill, and as soon as I was notified that he’d been hospitalized, I put new tires on our car and loaded all six children into the car and left during a snowstorm. We put blankets and food in the trunk and headed for Lovell, a distance of nearly 250 miles. The Lord surely blessed us because as we traveled there were dozens of cars off the road. During the trip we came to a long, steep hill. There were many cars which were not able to make it up the hill because it was so slick. At the sight of the hill I said a silent prayer and gave the car all the gas I could; and we went right up the hill and on to my parents’ home. Beverly kept vomiting all along the road. I thought she was carsick. Every once in a while I’d stop the car for her, but by the time we got to my parents’ home, she was really ill. Mother called the family doctor, Dr. Horsley. He came to the house and examined Beverly. He didn’t think it was too serious, but as the night wore on she became sicker by the minute. By that time the snow had stopped, so I placed her on the back seat of the car, where she could lay down, and took her to Powell to see Dr. Katenhorn. He was the same doctor who helped during Jack’s illness. Dr. Katenhorn ran some tests and confirmed that she had appendicitis. By the next morning, she was minus her appendix, and she improved quickly. After a couple of days, Dad was up and a¬round again. The weather had improved, so I got the children in the car and we were on our way home to our small house, which had bright pink walls, and a wall heater in every room, and to our dad and husband. Ray didn’t go with us since he had only started his new job a short time before and he didn’t have any vacation leave accrued. We needed his income for food, rent, and other necessities, so he stayed and worked. What a winter 1953–54 was, even with a headbolt heater on the car, it wouldn’t start at 53° below zero. Ray had to walk the six or seven blocks to his job. When he came home from the night shift at the cafe, he had to kick the door open because there was a band of ice all around the door. All the wall heaters were lit and on high. I understood why there was a heater in every room. We were comfortable inside though. The weather remained that cold for nearly a week. Then in February a chinook wind (warm wind) blew in and warmed us up. The temperature rose to 40° and the kids thought we had a heat wave. They took their coats off while they played outside as though it were summer. About the end of April, we moved back to Lovell. We stayed with my folks until Ray found work in two or three weeks. He went to work at Pahaska Teepe, a tourist resort about 100 miles from Lovell. He work¬ed at the Buffalo Bill Cody Lodge. He left me the car. On his days off, the kids and I would go up to see him. After our arrival, we were sitting in the car, and Leah who was almost three-years-old said, “Mom, is this Ta-hasta Pee-pee?” We all had a good laugh—even though it made her feel bad. We still laugh as we think of her comment that day. Debbie was seven months old. She missed her daddy. As we sat in the car and wondered where to look for Ray, Debbie started to cry. I looked at her and could see she was looking out the back window of the car—then I could see why she was crying. She could see her dad coming up the road behind us carrying his fishing pole. She was small, but she was so happy to see him. When he got to the car she kissed him and made such a fuss over him. He decided that if she missed him so much that he had better find work closer to his little ones. He worked at Manderson, which is between Ther-mopolis and Worland, for awhile. Then he found a job in Cody so we moved there. -Marjorie Eyre

Living in Cody again that Rodney Garrett Bailey was born February 10, 1955. He struggled for life during the first three months. The doctors gave him shots of penicillin time after time. He had a bowel blockage and many other problems. After taking him to every doctor in Cody to no avail, I took him to Billings to a pediatrician. He took one look and ordered a blood test, which none of the other doctors had done. In a short time, he told me that Rodney had no white blood cells to fight off infection. He gave the baby a gamma globulin shot. Shortly thereafter Rodney stopped crying and began to improve. While at the pediatricians, we also found out that Rodney was legally blind—the same as his older sister, Leah, who had also been born legally blind. The poor little guy was cute with his curly bright red hair, but after that doctor’s visit he began to make progress. He did so many cute things. He was always so spiritual and full of faith—and because of his faith miracles happened. I had received an answer to my prayers, because I had prayed desperately and asked our Father in Heaven to help me know what to do, and almost immediately there came into my mind, “Take him to Billings!” So Ray and I and Rodney were off to see the doctor in Billings. -Marjorie Eyre

When Rodney was nine months old, I got an urgent phone call. Mom said Dad had been in an accident and was in the hospital, and he was asking for me to come. In a few minutes, I had the children in the car headed for Lovell which was 50 miles away. Upon arrival, I went directly to the hospital and to my father’s room. He was very low, but he looked up and said, “Thank goodness you’re here.” He closed his eyes and died. The family then told me Dad was driving his team which pulled a hay wagon alongside the highway as he gathered hay for winter feed. All of a sudden the wind blew a piece of paper up in front of his horses. One of them hadn’t been broke to pull the wagon very long. The paper spooked him and he bolted—causing the wagon to lurch, which turned the wagon over and the load of hay landed on top of Dad. A neighbor saw the accident happen. He dug Dad out from under the hay and got him to the hospital. He notified mother, and she called me. As we rushed to Lovell that October day in 1955, Ed had a stick he was playing with in the back seat. I told him to throw it out, so as we crossed over a canal near “Chim¬ney Rock,” he threw the stick out the back window. The stick caught Alan’s new glasses which I’d just paid for before we left home. Needless to say, I had to order Alan a new pair of glasses on top of everything else that had happened that dreadful day. I miss Dad very much. He was a special leader whom I loved and looked up to for spiritual strength. Dad had a special rapport with horses all his life. He loved horses more than most, but it was unfortunate to have his life taken by one of his horses he loved so dearly. I recalled the many times I’d watched him break wild mustangs. He also rode bucking horses in rodeos. He’d talk to them while he taught them to pull together and taught them teamwork. Again, we moved back to Lovell. Ray found work at Dud’s Cafe. I worked as a waitress at the same place while there, the same as I had done in most of the towns we lived in. We found a house—probably the nicest house we’d ever had. There was a place to raise a lovely garden. While living there, Leah started to kindergarten and started taking piano lessons when she was five. I invited Johnny Tippetts, my first cou¬sin, who lived across the street, and who was our home teacher, to administer to Leah and give her a priesthood blessing for her eyes. I asked Johnny, because I didn’t have the higher priesthood in my home. Ed and Beverly were in high school, John was in junior high, and Alan was in grade school while we lived in Lovell this time. Ed and Beverly were popular in school and had many friends. John was also popular. He and Beverly were dance directors at Mutual as they prepared for a stake dance festival. They were all active in the Church. I was proud of them. Marjorie Eyre

In February 1958, we moved to Riverton. The children were active in school. Ed was the student body president, Beverly was a cheerleader. Ed was active in football and wrestling. John was in madrigals. Alan was in basketball. A moth¬er stays busy in keeping up with an active family. I worked at the Frontier Cafe and Chopping’s Cafe in Riverton. Ed and Beverly graduated from Riverton High School in May 1960. In the fall of 1961, we moved to Lander, which is 25 miles south of Riverton. John was a senior in high school and wanted to complete his school¬ing in Riverton, so I allowed him to stay, if he could find a place to live and to support himself. Bill and Ann Carter, who owned the Frontier Cafe in River¬ton, and the Nuway Cafe in Lander, permitted him to live the their basement apartment at no charge. Ray worked as a chef in both restaurant. Alan played basketball at Lander High School. Nearly a year later, we decided to move to Rock Springs, a friendly town. However, after one winter in Rock Springs, I was the one who suggested we move to Utah. Rock Springs was on the prairie and had so much wind—and I hate wind. The temperatures dropped to 54° below zero. I’d heard that Utah had milder winters, plus with young college-age children, we decided to move to Orem. John, the third child, had been attending BYU during the fall of 1962, while we lived in Rock Springs. He drop¬ped out of school because he didn’t have enough money. He work¬ed at a floral in Provo, but it didn’t provide enough money to get through college. That is what gave me the inspiration to move to Utah, thinking that maybe if the kids lived at home, and with a part-time job, they could get a college education. -Marjorie Eyre