OUR WESTERN SPIRIT

PETE ELLSWORTH of Show Low said his father blessed their food every meal when he was growing up, but they had a special blessing at Thanksgiving. "On days like that, the regular routine was broken," he recalled. "School was out in the middle of the week, and the kids were all home. Maybe that morning we might kill a beef or a pig. Mother would cook turkey stuffed with cornbread dressing. We had plenty of vegetables from our garden. We'd have pumpkin pies and mincemeat pies, but the thing I remember most is Mother's suet pudding. Some people called it carrot pudding, but Mother called it suet pudding. She used a lemon dip with it. Delicious." The closer a rancher lived to the mountains, the more likely he was to have game for Thanksgiving. Pete and his wife still live on the little ranch south of Show Low where he was born and raised. A creek runs through the ranch, and there's a beaver dam upstream. "We used to have a big old wild turkey gobbler for Thanksgiving dinner," Pete said. "My mother's family came from the Gila Valley. In the fall, her brothers would come out to hunt. We all had our share of deer, elk and wild turkeys." Pete had three brothers and two sisters. After Thanksgiving dinner, they would pitch horseshoes or have shooting contests, he said: "My father and us boys did a lot of shooting with a .22. Before the day was over, we usually had a contest going. We'd shoot pennies. You may not believe this, but we'd pitch pennies into the air, and my younger brother LaMell could hit 'em. He used to spend a lot of time target practicing."

NICK THOMPSON, a White Mountain Apache, spent much of his time shooting, too, but with a bow and arrow. Said his daughter Velita Krueger, "We always had turkey for Thanksgiving, but my father and brothers went hunting for it with bows and arrows. My dad made his own bows and flint-head arrows." Velita continued: "When my father was young, he was straw boss for the Cibecue Cattlemen's Association. We'd spend our summers with the cattle up at Sheep Springs and our winters down at the Flying V Ranch, between Cibecue and Salt River Canyon [in Arizona]. My mother, father, five children and grandparents would all get together at the Flying V for Thanksgiving." The Indians celebrated Thanksgiving long before the pilgrims came, Velita said: "It was the end of harvest season. They got through picking corn and roots and pine nuts. The meats were all made into jerky. They got ready for the winter. "What they used to do," she said, "the hunters would, when they killed a wild animal, always cut off the head and elevate it on some mountain or tree. That's so the eagle could see it. He's a messenger to Ussen. They would give thanks to Ussen, our God, for the animals they killed. The hunters never used to carry the head back with them." Velita said her family would cook outdoors over an open fire and eat their meal outside, too. "We could use any wood that hadn't been struck by lightning or didn't have owl holes in it," she said. "It couldn't be gnawed by a beaver, either; that's taboo. Any other wood was OK to cook with. "A long time ago, we just had traditional foods. We'd have acorn stew, we'd make some tortillas, ash bread - that's bread cooked in the ashes - squash, pumpkin, ground corn, parched corn. We'd boil some meat and put pumpkin and acorns into it. My mother would boil the squash, then mix it with butter, salt and pepper. The salt we used came from sacred salt caves along the Salt River." The family had a small farm in Cibecue where they grew their vegetables. They gathered piñon nuts and acorns in the fall. "The acorns we used came from around Globe and along the Salt River," Velita said. "They say if you're a real good person, the acorns don't taste bitter after you grind them on the metate. We'd only use a certain kind of acorn the ones that are yellow inside and brown outside." Velita said her father still makes bows and arrows. "The family still gets together every year to celebrate Thanksgiving at the Flying V with traditional Apache foods, but it's getting more modern," she said. "My sister Marie makes pumpkin pies now. We still sing songs and give thanks to Ussen for giving us such a bountiful life."

GIVING THANKS AROUND A TABLE is only part of a ranch Thanksgiving. A cowboy carries it in his heart all year long. As Pete Ellsworth said, "I guess I'm kind of an outlaw as far as religion goes. But every day that I'm in the saddle is a pleasure to me. I'm just grinnin' with joy, especially if I happen to ride up on a big bunch of wild turkeys or a herd of antelope. I'm kind of an odd individual. I'm always happy when I've got a good horse between my legs... lots of wide open country... fresh air. I'm thankful every day. I guess I just enjoy living." Pride and tradition prevail on an Arizona ranch Thanksgiving Day. Somehow, the ones who made it possible are always there. Memories waft from the kitchen with the smell of pumpkin pie and venison, mincemeat, wild turkey with cornbread stuffing, homemade noodles, suet pudding. The summer garden greens again with each bite of peas or green beans; the orchard breathes again in peach preserves spread thick on homemade yeast rolls. It may be slim pickings part of the year, but at Thanksgiving, there's plenty for all. And if a winter storm is biting at the heels of dark clouds, listen. You can almost hear the pounding of a herd of range cattle and the far-off cries of men and horses bringing up the drags. Coming home. Coming home.

A Portfolio Edited by Lisa Altomare and Jeff Kida

BRUCE D. TAUBERT