Barbara Barlow - Seventeen Sisters: Tell Their Story

In this book are the personal experiences Seventeen Sisters had growing up in polygamy, how it shaped each one and how it affected their choices in life.

How do you bring 17 stories with 17 different writing styles and personalities into a cohesive book? We hope we have done that and made it not only interesting but also offered each reader something that may touch his or her own life.

We begin with excerpts about Albert E. Barlow from a book written about him, the father of these seventeen women. From his childhood to the ultimate choice he made, polygamy and then to continue living that lifestyle no matter what the cost. He was bigger than life to his children and to his wives.

We have included a family tree after the stories to help keep up with the 34 children born into this family from three different women.

When I was nine, I went with my sisters, Alice and Clara, to get milk from our Uncle Edmunds house. On our way back home, we walked through his wheat fields. The next day, out of nowhere, Papa suddenly cuffed me on the head.

Whats the matter with you? he said. You knocked the heads off all the wheat everywhere you walked. You know better than that!

I didnt do it! I cried.

Dont lie to me. Papa yelled, smacking me again. Edmund told me the ground was covered with heads of grain. He was ready to give you a beating himself. Papa slapped me a few more times, just for good measure.

I choked back sobs as I said, Alice was doin it. I told her not to.

But Papa would have none of my attempts to explain. As he stomped away, he shouted over his shoulder, I dont want to hear any more.

Even though Papa was a large man, Mama was not in the least intimidated by him, but respected him enough that she never interfered or contradicted him. As was normal during Papas bad tempers, Mama watched with respectful silence until he had left the room. She then hugged me and said, Its all right. Uncle Edmund was mad, and your father had to punish someone.

She wiped my face. Dont worry. Ill take care of Alice.

Just knowing that Mama believed me made things better. It seemed like Papa blamed me for everything.

My fathers voice roared through the early-morning air, drilling into my head where dreams had been.

Bert, giddup. You have to take Trues team back to him this morning.

I was sleepy, but that wasnt the worst of it. The thought of going up Wild Cat Canyon was like a splash of icy water. The panic washed over me as I remembered my experience of a year earlier in that same canyon.

Papa was already out of the tent by the time I moaned, Why cant Win go? Struggling into my outgrown overalls and worn flannel shirt, I burst through the door of the kitchen.

Why cant you go, Win?

Mumbling something through his hot mush about cutting the wood, thirteen-year-old Win kept his eyes on his bowl. Frantic, I raced outside to find Papa hitching up Chub.

Shivering in the early-morning air, I cried, Wins been there and knows the way. I can stay here and cut the wood.

Papa turned and looked me in the eye. Quietly but firmly, he said, YOU will take the team back. I knew he meant business. I also knew it was his way of telling me to stop. There would be no further discussion.

The panic drove me on. But Wins older and hes been there. Im strong enough to cut the wood. Slowing a little, I pleaded, Please make Win go.

In only a matter of seconds, my pleading turned to fury. I faced down my father, something any of us rarely did. He always gets the soft jobs; he can talk you into anything.

Id gone too far. Papa swung at me with lightning speed and cuffed me so fast I couldnt avoid the blow. But still I couldnt stop. Were the same size but you make me do all the dirty work.

Did I say that?

You made me go to Black Pine alone.

Why couldnt I shut up?

His fists clenched, Papa said through a tight jaw, Put both harnesses on the mule, put the collar on the horse. With that, he stomped off through the dusty yard.

My stomach was in knots as I followed his instructions. As I was ready to climb on the horse, Mama emerged from the cabin and walked over to where I struggled with the horse.

Youll be fine, Son, she said, handing me a small bundle with food in it. My mother was never disrespectful of my father but sometimes I could tell if she felt sorry for me, and I took advantage of that to argue more. Today her look was blank; any courage I had left... dissolved.

Just head straight south, up the mountain and back down again, she advised.

Youll be fine, Papa muttered as he passed me on his way back into the cabin.

Mumbling, I thrust myself up on the horse, jerked on the reins, and headed both animals toward the mountain. My legs hung around the horses belly, pushing my pants almost to my knees. I had to curl my toes to keep the handed-down boots on my feet. The laces had broken long before.

As the sun peeked over the mountain my stomach groaned, reminding me of the biscuits Mama had tucked into the bundle. I wolfed down breakfast, wondering how long it would be before I reached the mouth of the canyon. There was no trail to follow, but the sun served as my compass. I knew the sun came up in the east, so I knew I was headed south.

There was a comfortable sense of community property at that time. It was common practice that a traveler could stop at any dwelling and eat. It didnt even matter if no one was there. The traveler was welcome to fix himself some food as long as he cleaned up after himself. If he used the fire, he was expected to clean it up and prepare it for another fire. What comfort I felt when I saw what looked like a dwelling in the distancemy salvation.

The sun beat down on me, and my thick hair was plastered against my face. The short shadows indicated it was mid-day, and my stomach bawled for food. How could it be possible that I had already eaten all the food Mama had sent with me? I gulped down the last of my water, hoping against hope for a friendly welcome at the ranch I had seen from a distance. I needed to eatand my team needed to rest.

As I approached the ranch, an old man hobbled out of the barn. Hallo he hollered to me. Then, turning toward the house, he bellowed, Ma, we got company.