Dad shoots at a rat in the outhouse not knowing someone is inside.
I'm not sure if I was eight or nine years old, at the time, before my parents had a bathroom. My habit was to run to the outhouse before I went to school. One morning as I was going out there I saw a big rat at the wood pile near the outhouse. Knowing that morn's chicks were disappearing I ran back to tell my dad of the rat. He, thinking I stayed in the house, went and got the gun. I and the dog returned to the outhouse. Well, dad shot the rat. I thought, "My that sounded close," so I looked at my arm to see if it was bleeding. All seemed well until I got up. The bullet fell from my lap. It had glanced off, and went thru the side of the outhouse into my lap, but didn't hurt anything. So child like I was, picked up the bullet in my hand, went in the house and told morn that dad shot me. Well dad and morn turned white and nearly fainted as I skipped happily to school. Years later I realized it could have been death.
I was lucky. Guess an Angel watched over me.
Back in 1955 a call went out from the editors of the then Capper’s Weekly asking for readers to send in articles on true pioneers. Hundreds of letters came pouring in from early settlers and their children, many now in their 80s and 90s, and from grandchildren of settlers, all with tales to tell. So many articles were received that a decision was made to create a book, and in 1956, the first My Folks title – My Folks Came in a Covered Wagon – hit the shelves. Nine other books have since been published in the My Folks series, all filled to the brim with true tales from Capper’s readers, and we are proud to make those stories available to our growing online community.