Sunday Mass

 

You pull up to Mission #2, not far at all from Belle Starr's onetime ranch/hideout, and what do you see? Nothing fancy, just a couple of lines of pick ups, a horse trailer and a lowish church built in the 1980s in an act of faith on the part of people who retired from the Metrosprawl to live by the lake. They're mostly gone now, bless 'em. But what do you find inside?

The few readers of this unassuming mind-blog would be shocked. No guitar playing nuns, no wymxn priestesses, no rainbow flags, no felt applique banners, not even any liturgical dance. What you do get is an oriented sung Mass, Rite I (think Ordinariate style, all you RC trads), with traditional hymns. And here's the thing, the singing was led by a couple of ex-Baptist women.

I tell you, it was good, and I don't say that lightly. Imagine, if you can, Amazing Grace at the Offertory on a Loretta Lynn tip. Here's Miss Lynn:

High on a mountain top? You bet. In related news, I called our Senior Warden after Mass, "Hey, J, I haven't ridden for four years and feel it's time to get back on. Can you recommend someone to give me remedial lessons? You know, leads, asking for gaits the right way and all of that." She thought about it for a second or two, "Sure! Come out this week and ride with us, we'll find you a horse."

Now, pundits, mark me well. This is equivalent to, say, a pub guitarist calling up Jimmy Page and saying, "Hey man, is it OK if I jam with you and Eric Clapton?" You know, to get better on the guitar, and he replies, "You bet, swing by the studio sometime this week, Roy Harper's gonna be there too. He needs help."

J in the Zone and then some

Wow, what good people we have in this little country church, where the Word of God is preached and taught and the Sacraments confected. There's hope and no inconsiderable uplift in that and I feel privileged to serve here. Stay tuned for equestrian adventure.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Corpus Christi Storm

 

Thunder rumbled like a celestial artillery barrage as the heavens opened and rain lashed down with cascading fury. Seriously, climate change got real and I had to pull over to the side of the road on the way to Mass. Clearly Hill County had forgotten to pay its carbon tax.

But maybe Bosque had because it was clear skies and sunny southern weather once you got over the dam which blocks the mighty Brazos, creating Lake Whitney. A great place to fish, for sure, and a good place to celebrate the Mass to boot, not far from one of Belle Starr's hideouts.

A typical Texas Storm

I keep meaning to visit what's left of her small 100 acre ranch, which once played host to the James Gang and other bushwhackers turned outlaw. All in good time, but in the meanwhile it's Corpus Christi, so here's a prayer.

Deus, qui nobis sub Sacramento mirabili Passionis tuae memoriam reliquisti; tribue, quaesumus, ita nos Corporis et Sanguinis tui sacra mysteria venerari, ut redemptionis tuae fructum in nobis iugiter sentiamus: Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

 

And in English:

O God, who under a wonderful Sacrament hast left us a memorial of Thy Passion; grant us, we beseech Thee, so to venerate the sacred mysteries of Thy Body and Blood, that we may ever feel within ourselves the fruit of Thy Redemption: Thou who livest and reignest forever and ever. Amen.

 

Powerful prayers and do you think that a nation, people or persons who openly mock God will somehow escape the storm of his judgement?

O Salutaris,

LSP

After Mass Outlaws - Belle Starr

 

Belle Starr on Venus

Talk after Mass at mission #2 turned naturally to famous Bosque County outlaws, and I learned something. The famous Bandit Queen, Belle Star, née Myra Shirley, owned a 160 acre ranch not far from the church, in what became Fairview.

This would have been in the 1870s, in the turbulent years following the War, and the ranch served as a hideout for Belle, then Myra, her first husband Jim Reed and assorted outlaws. These could well have have included members of the James and Younger gangs, former Confederate raiders turned horse thieves and bandits.

Wild West Show?

The Bandit Queen knew these men because she'd served as a scout(?) with Quantrill, "Bloody Bill" Anderson and other guerrillas during the Missouri-Kansas border war. Her brother Bud served as a raider and taught Belle to ride and shoot. 

After Bud was killed in action in 1864, Belle's family, the Shirleys, moved to Texas, northeast of Dallas, where they continued their relationship with the very irregular cavalry.

Jim Reed was shot in 1874 in Paris, Texas, and Myra moved to Indian Territory (Oklahoma) where she set up on the South Canadian River with a Cherokee outlaw, Sam Starr, her second husband. Starr was shot by lawman Frank West at a Christmas party and Belle went on to marry another Cherokee horse thief, Bill July, who she renamed Jim Starr.

Belle Starr

Belle was ambushed, shot and killed in 1889, at the age of 40. Suspects included Edgar Watson, a neighbor and horse thieving associate, her son Ed and possibly her third husband Jim. But I won't bang on, here's Belle:

My home became famous as an outlaws' ranch long before it was visited by any of the boys who were friends of mine in times past. Indeed, I never correspond with any of my old associates, and was desirous my whereabouts should be unknown to them. Through rumor, they learned of it. Jesse James first came in and remained several weeks. He was unknown to my husband, who never knew until long afterward, that our home had been honored by Jesse's presence. I introduced Jesse as one Mr. Williams from Texas. But, few outlaws have visited my home, notwithstanding so much has been said. The best people in the country are my friends. I have considerable ignorance to cope with, consequently, my troubles originate mostly in that quarter. Surrounded by a low down class of shoddy whites, who have made the Indian country their home to evade paying tax on their dogs, and, who I will not permit to hunt on my premises, I am the constant theme of their slanderous tongues. In all the world, there is no woman more peaceably inclined than I.

 

Again:

You can just say I am a friend to any brave and gallant outlaw, but have no use for that sneaking, coward class of thieves who can be found in every locality, and who would betray a friend or comrade for the sake of their own gain. There are three or four jolly, good fellows on the dodge now in my section, and when they come to my home, they are welcome, for they are my friends, and would lay down their lives in my defense at any time the occasion demanded it, and go their full length to serve me in any way.

 

Belle Starr, an excellent horsewoman, see Venus, who often rode side saddle, was a crack shot with two revolvers which she called her "babies," served less than a year in a Detroit jail, acted in a Wild West show where she robbed a stagecoach and... became a legend in her lifetime. 

She had, to my mind,  a hardbitten look by the time she married July, and no wonder. You can imagine her running hospitality for killers like the James and Younger brothers.

For my part, I'll remember her when I drive down 56 past Fairview on the way to Valley Mills. And rumors that some of our people are part Cherokee and out of Bonham are just that, vicious, unfounded rumors.

Ride on, and ride fast. Or slowly if you've busted your hip,

LSP