Looking through some old photos the other night I ran across one of a squash patch my brother Rob and I had in a field just off Highway 92 on Hill’s Bridge Road. It’s where Chris Gibson and his family now live but the property belonged to Margaret and Virginia McLucas back then.
The beautiful squash patch on Hills Bridge Road
There are no weeds in that photo. My brother and I took good care of our square patches because those patches were good to us. We picked them three times a week for several months and sold tons of squash off of them.
But the main reason that field looked so clean was because Rufus Prayor – everybody called him “Rufe” – and his mule had just finished cultivating the rows.
Pictured: Rufus “Rufe” Prayor. Photo by – Frances Reeves
Rufe always did the final cultivation on our squash, as the plants had grown so big there was no room to drive a tractor down the middles.
I don’t remember that mule’s name, but it could tip toe down those rows and never break one of the fragile stalks that supported the leaves. Soon those wide leaves would shade out any new growth of weeds and grass, leaving the field clean as long as the plants kept bearing.
Rufe, a kind, soft-spoken man, never charged us very much. He was better known for his work as a carpenter. He and Ralph Lamb completed many a building project around Inman. Rufe was primarily the sawyer, and I never knew him to use any power equipment. He used a hand saw, and I remember well the alternating sound of his sawing as his forward stroke took a bigger bite out of the board than his backward pull.
I don’t ever recall him raising his voice, but I do remember him expressing frustration once with Jewell Forts.
For some reason I’ll never quite understand, my parents had me work along with Rufe and Jewell to replace the tin roof on the front of the red house on their property on McBride Road.
The “Red House” on McBride Road.
That roof is extremely steep, making this dangerous work, especially for an inexperienced kid.
Rufe assured me that he’d keep me safe, and I believed him. We both worked off an extension ladder laid on the sloped surface of the roof with a rope tied to it. Jewell was on the ground on the back side of the house, and his job was to secure the rope to something solid, thereby keeping the ladder in place for Rufe and me.
All was going well until Rufe worked his way to the top only to see Jewell off by the wood line behind the house. Jewell had tied the rope off to a branch on a small sweet gum tree and walked to the woods to answer the call of nature.
After a scolding from Rufe, he returned to his assigned duties and we safely finished the job.
When Rufe got ready to retire he sold his 1969 Ford pickup to my dad and it became the family workhorse for decades.
We thought we wore that truck out, but looking back on it, it could have been patched up and used for much longer.
As Frank Reeves used to say about his worn equipment, it had “years of useful service left in it.”
I wish we still had that truck now. And I wish there were more people in the world like Rufe Prayor – and Jewell Forts.