The Catholic times. [volume] (Columbus, Ohio) 1951-current, 1959-06-19
BRETC-
Heartbreaks
Made u. S.

A y~oungster is buried somewhere in the vast dis
ta1ceS oil Western America. There was audible pain
IN the voice of Beulah Anthony Conrad as she told me
the story.
While Mrs. Conrad spoke, there rose before me a
vision OF the neWnesS, the immensely, and the gigantic
neighborliness of the United States.
The lost little one was a childhood companion of
Beulah Conrads mother. Burial under the enormous
skies OF the plains states came while a wagon train
was making its tortured way from Missouri to Mon
lana.
By day, these pioneer families passed endless
herds of buffalo, like the undulating black ocean. By
night, coyotes hoWled, providing for victims.
1t is all vivid in the mind Of Beulah Conrad, be-
cause she heard it over and over from her mothers
lips.
She told these memories while we rode in an auto
mobile along a dirt road paralleling the 7,500-acre
ranch she and her husband, Bowen Conrad, have de.
veloped in 80 years from a 400-acre beginning.
THEY U their cattle with Them she
said. Two or three times, they had to leave behind a
sick beast. Before it was out of sight, they saw the
coyotes circling it.
my mother was in her teens, and this young
friend died" Beulah Conrad's words came slowly,
born out of sympathetic suffering. ''They buried her
they never knew Where-and went on" There was
a break in Mrs. Conrad's voice. 81 don't see how they
did it," .1
"They did ii because they had to, | said.
Eyes, said Beulah Conrad.
! met the Conrads through Bob and Virginia
Broderick of WauWatosa, Wis, with whom my wife
and spent two weeks on an auto tour of some of the
| SAY some of the vest because, although we
covered nearly 1000 miles, we saw only a COM
paratively small part of that portion of America.
Virginia Frederick is an artist, and Bob is a writer.
Through their eyes, | saw, and through their minds
realized, much that otherwise | would have missed.
Bob is related to the Conrads by marriage, and we
were fortunate enough to find Mrs. Conrad at home in
her modest house in Cascade, Mont.
Have you time TO visit our ranch?" she asked.
Bowen is there" We drove Il miles to the ranch
house, and when ! met Bowen Conrad, | understood
why he is not contented away from his lands, even
though he is turning them over to his daughter and
her husband.
w IS Is. He looks perhaps so. His shoulders
are wide and thick, his arms powerful. He wore long
rubber boots because he had been out ~irrigating.
BoWens son-in-laW, with a ranch hand, riding
horses, came away from the house as we approached.
Mrs. Conrad put down the window on her side of the
car and called out introductions.
The Son-in-laW Unanswered his mount closer, hold
Ing 1t on a tight rein. i've got a Spooky horse here"
he said. He explained that they were off to round up
cattle, because next day was branding-day.
We drove to the house and went in. and at once
were as much at home as if we had known these peo-
pie for years.
THAT IS WHAT | mean by the neighborliness of
Americans We experienced it a hundred times on our
trip. But the reality goes deeper than the word
"neighborliness," for all its meaning and beauty, can
convey.
Perhaps | can make my point clearer in this way.
| felt deeply what Beulah Conrad was feeling when
she spoke about the youngster buried somewhere in
1000 miles of prairie.
! am a city man, working at a typewriter in an Of
flee. and never before had | seen a ranch. But Beulah
Conrad's sorrow, handed down from her mother, was
my sorrow too.
Often my father told me that his grandparents,
immigrating from Germany, buried at sea q daughter
who was born aboard ship. She and the %youngster in
the prairie are eloquent of the heartbreaks and hero
isms that made America.