I have been sick so much, honey, I don't remember much. Don't remember any dates. I must get Mr. Frank to write them down for me. Best I can remember I was born in Mississippi, and we come to Arkansas, then to Texas, when I was eight years old. My father's name was Mosley Woods . I remember they called my mother 'Clark .' I don't know whether 'twas a nickname or not. The best I remember they was six children; the oldest was a boy named Ross , then I was next. My sisters were named Em and Jane . In Texas we first lived close to Waco, out in the country, I mean. Mr. Greenwood had a plank house. We lived out in the back yard in a little plank house. Some more cullud people lived out there too." Aunt Ruth says there is no such word as nigger and it makes her mad to use it. "Mr. Greenwood's boys were older than me and I learned to fight to take care of myself. Mrs. Greenwood always told me I was just like my daddy -- always fightin', but I have heard her tell people I always did my work right. My mother cooked. No ma'm, I don't know whether they had 'possums or rabbits or what. Children never was allowed near the kitchen. No, ma'm, children never was raised like they are now. If you come to the door and grown folks was talking, you just stood there till they got through, then you asked for what you wanted. Children never did see nothin' or hear nothin'. Maybe that's the reason they are so much smarter nowadays. Honey, I never did learn to read nor write. There was two white families taught the
Negroes to read, but there was a large family of us and Mrs. Greenwood was sick and I had to work hard. The only thing I regret in my life is I didn't get any schoolin'. I think of it so much. I think of the chances the children have now, both white and black, and they won't go to school. I don't 'member much about church, but I have heard them say they jumped over a broomstick and they was married. After the war Mr. Greenwood had a home up on the San Antonio River. He moved the house from another place and we lived -- I don't know how long -- right on the bank of the river. I don't know how long that was after the war. Then we moved to a place called Helena. No, ma'm, he didn't have no sheep, just cattle and horses. Mr. Greenwood never did no farming, only a watermelon patch and a garden. It got droughty down there and we came out this way (Brackettville and Del Rio). Now, we were coming into the Indian country. The Indians were bad. We lived in a plank house, but there were no schools so we went back to Helena. That's where their 'colleges' were. Mr. Greenwood raised horses and the boys would break them. They used to catch wild cattle that drifted down out of the mountains. They did not go over and get them. We did not have many clothes during the war and right after it. Times were hard. I know it's all right to tell it: Mr. Greenwood had been a freighter. After the war, ma took the wagon sheets and tent cloth and made clothes out of them. I sat down and wolfed my food, then beat it out. Do you know, I never did hear any more about it.

There is one thing that I treasure above all other memories of the old plantation; that was the music and the dances they had. Dad had bought a nigger by the name of 'Mance '? He got him for $350.00 because he was the worst thief in the country. Dad took him, because he felt that he'd never seen the nigger he couldn't make a good one out of without beating him to death. Punishment was something that didn't go on our place. Dad just made them understand that the place sunk or swam on their efforts, and if one of them had to be whipped to put it out he'd just sell him to a man that would whip. Well, dad began on Mance by telling him, that if he had to steal, to steal from him. Mance was funny when he wanted to be, as well as when he didn't care about it. He stole our chickens, and he stole several things. After he'd been on our place three months, he brought a whole plow harness home. Dad took the trace chain and whipped him with it, then made him take it back to where he'd stole it. Mance was a good fiddler. He loved to teach me to play, and I picked it up right away. By rights, a nigger by the name of 'Friday' gave me my first lesson, when I wasn't but three years old, but dad gave him to my oldest sister when she married. When I was six, Mance had taught me to jig and play such pieces as 'Turkey in the Straw', 'Molly, Put de Kittle On', 'Run Nigger Run', 'Old Dan Tucker', and such pieces, and taught me to go on like they did. I just picked it up right now, and made a many a dollar by playing for dances and such after I got grown. Let me tell you one on old Mance . He had a lot of dogs on the place, and one that was half hound; the hound gave him the nose to trail and the dog gave him the grit to put up a good fight. We had lots of varmints those days. One night we heard a big lot of noise out in the chicken house. You know, a fox will kill all he can get to before he eats.

Well, by the time I got out and raised the niggers, the dogs had run him into a hole under a log a few feet behind the chicken house. The half hound caught him by his tail and pulled him down then made the kill. We were all standing around and deciding what to do with it, when Mance spoke to me and said: 'Mistus Needham , let's skin dat varmint and hang his hide up on de chicken house do'. Dat'll be a wahnin to all de rest to sta' 'way.' Well, it was so comical that we did it, and we never lost another chicken after that. Just a incidence, though because the war came on then. Our place was on the way to the North, and lots of Confederates passed our place on their way to fight. Then, when they fell back, we seen them some more. When Sherman started on his 'March to the Sea' our place was right in his path. About a week before he got to our place, dad sent my younger brother but they was terrible to bother people. The man told the Negro to stop. Mr. Greenwood threw the lines to ma, jumped out of the wagon with his gun, says, 'Drive on York.' He ran that man back into the woods. Mr. Greenwood said lots of the freighters were bothered by these men, but they never stopped him. They would go into some men's wagons and just take what they wanted.
I remember one day we were camped at Adam's Spring, down near San Antonio. They say there is an army camp there now. The Indians went in bunches. Mr. and Mrs. Greenwood had been raised in Florida and they knew all about Indians. I was stooped down by the spring, dripping a bucket of water. Pa came over to me and said, real low: 'Ruth , did you ever see an Indian? Well, look! There goes some.' Lawd have mercy! I could have jumped in that spring! They was a bunch of them dressed like Mexicans and riding little horses. They went on by and didn't bother us. I remember they was some way they could tell by the moon when the Indians were in the country. One day one of the Greenwood boys was out riding. The Indians got after him and shot arrows at him, but his horse was a race horse and ran straight for home. I remember lots of terrible things happened in the Indian country. One day some people went to bury a body and the Indians like to have got them. Yes ma'm, I remember when they went in ox wagons. I went from San Antonio to Victoria and Port Lavaca in an ox wagon.
We children played a squatty game called 'Shoo Turkey.' We would squat on the ground and one would say, 'Shoo Turkey.' Then we would run and he would try to catch us before we squatted. We played checkers. This is the way we played checkers. As many as could would sit around a blanket. We would have a certain number of marbles. We would pitch them up and try to catch them on the back of our hands. Every marble you caught counted so much. When you got all around, the one that had the most won. Yes ma'm, I have lived in Val Verde County most of my life. There was only three white families in Del Rio when we come here.