BARN OF A LIFETIME
Dan Hill Ranch Barn, original painting by Sybil Ickes Malmberg c. 1970
The Dan Hill Ranch barn was the first stagecoach stop on a southeasterly route angling cross-country from Gordon, NE, stopping at the U-Cross Ranch, and going beyond. Dan Hill and a ranch hand, with a lantern swinging in their hands, welcomed travelers through wide open doors on the north side of the barn. Upon arrival, the driver unhitched the team of horses and turned the reins over to the ranch hand who led the horses to the central barn area where stalls filled with fresh bedding, oats, and hay awaited. Meanwhile, Mr. Hill gallantly debarked the overnight guests and headed them to the sod ranch house with its deep window seats. Mrs. Hill (Myra), standing in a ream of lamp light, took their wraps and seated them at her ranch table where a warm meal, good conversation, and laughter around the fire nourished the weary travelers. Everyone caught up with fresh news, and, satiated to the extreme, soon the guests were bedded down on plump feather ticks, smelling of lavender. The next morning, Myra bolstered them with stacks of flap jacks and hot coffee, readying them for the drive to the next stage stop.
Often, other guests came by the dozen for barn dances. Stagecoach travelers, neighbors, cowboys, ranch hands, ranchers, hired girls, schoolteachers, kids and all the melee climbed up the ladder to the loft, to join in on a favorite square dance. The barn shook in a frenzy as the square dance caller cried out the moves . . . “Hug ‘em up tight and swing ‘em like thunder!” Talented neighbors playing fiddle, sax and accordion made the music. All the women were busy in the tack room, ladening a table with sandwiches, cake and making coffee for intermission, tapping their feet to the upstairs beat. With long skirts flying, they soon dashed up to dance, too! Spirits were high, as more folks arrived, circling their wagons, and bedding their horses, before joining the gathering. Music wafted out the loft door, wide open to the night air.
In later years, Don and I lived on the Dan Hill Ranch from 1955-1975. The enchantment of the V V Bar barn never waned; full of childhood magic for our kids, Tony, Lani, Cyd, Melanie and Reggie. Lying on their stomachs, peering down from the huge loft door overlooking the barnyard, they watched, as our Percheron, Belgian and Clydesdale work horses trotted in with harnesses jingling. Harnesses were hung on pegs all along the breezeway. Ranch quarter horses were in their stalls, also, and saddles stored in the tack room.
One afternoon the yawning loft door opened out wide and a whole stack of hay came in, high as the rafters! Hours were spent with the kids going hand over hand across the barn, falling into the stacks of hay in a heap of laughter. After a little fun, the kids pushed hay by the pitchforkfuls down into the mangers below, calling each horse by name. Sometimes they were allowed to pet them, staying clear of their big feet.
The barn became an epic experience for my Ickes family, when my brother, Lionel, brought his bride, Jeannine, from New Orleans on their honeymoon. The Ickes Family Clan from Page, Nebraska excitedly headed West for the Sandhills to be in on the welcome for Lionel’s bride. Their arrival coincided with our branding day . . . the first week of June . . . so in order to have a sleeping arrangement for the multitude, the kids were relegated to the hayloft. Each had a sleeping bag and sank in the hay for one big whoop-a-la.
My new sister-in-law was a recent ‘Queen of The Mardi Gras’ and brought artichokes for the branding table. What a scenario watching her serving a bunch of cowboys the new concoction. First in line was handsome Howard Parker. Cowboy and rodeo hero in our neighborhood. With his Levi’s tucked in his boots, wearing a red shirt, black cowboy hat and white kerchief around his neck, he followed Jeannine’s demonstration on “how to eat artichokes” to a ‘T’ . . . curling his little finger daintily, dipping each leaf in the hot butter and dragging his white teeth just so, to get the last, tasty buttery morsel out . . . then smacked his lips and beckoned all the cowboys and calf wrestlers to do the same. Forever afterward our neighborhood pleasantly recalled Lionel’s and Jeannine’s honeymoon visit to our Sandhill branding and never forgot having such a southern delicacy . . . artichokes!