Memoirs of Flora Hermosa MacDonald (1888–1921) & her husband Loren Leroy Taylor

Flora Hermosa Macdonald

The only child of Alexander Finlay Macdonald to be born in Mexico, Flora was born on April 22, 1888, in Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, and she lived there her entire life. She died at the age of 33, and as is often the case when a person dies young, less is known about her life than others who lived longer. She was the youngest child of all of Alexander F. Macdonald's 26 children and the fifth child of her mother, Fannie Van Cott Macdonald.

Alexander Macdonald tended to give his children names with strong connections to his Scottish background or the LDS church. Flora Macdonald was one of Scotland's great historical figures. Although Flora is a Scottish name, it is also a form of the Spanish word for flower, and by adding the middle name Hermosa, she carried the poetic name of "beautiful flower."

Her niece Fannie Bluth wrote that Flora was "a calm, beautiful girl with golden curls," and she was remembered as a striking contrast to her older sister Lucy who had a "spirited nature, plenty of vim and vitality, and jet black curls." Apparently Flora's "golden curls" darkened to a deep brown as she grew to adulthood.

As a child, Flora's father moved to Colonia Garcia, so, except for occasional visits, she grew up with little contact with him. Her mother still created a close-knit, secure family life. Her niece Fannie Bluth writes of a childhood event when Flora and older sister Lucy were doing the dishes. In anger, Lucy threw a fork at Flora and the tines lodged in Flora's back. The "awful sight" was Lucy's worst punishment, and the two sisters grew up to love each other. Lucy was said to be the first to come to Flora's side when she needed a friend.

Flora attended elementary school in Colonia Juarez. She graduated from the Juarez Stake Academy in 1909. She lived through the turmoil of the Mexican Revolution, but even in the midst of this war, she conducted her courtship with Loren Leroy Taylor, a young man of the colonies. A few weeks after the Exodus in July 1912, they were married in El Paso on August 26. She and her mother were in the first party of colonists that returned to re-settle Colonia Juarez in January 1913. There on June 12, 1914, Flora had her first child Hannah Vee. She went on to give birth to three more children: Nelle Loriene and Fay were born in Colonia Juarez, and son Loren LaSelle was born after they moved to Colonia Dublan. Daughter Fay died of whooping cough at the age of one year. Hannah grew up and married Alma Grant Jarvis, Nelle married Claudius Bowman, Jr., and LaSelle married Arletta Whetten. These three children have provided Flora with a large posterity.

Flora was very tall, like her father, had long dark hair, and was considered very beautiful. She had a lovely contralto singing voice. Daughter Hannah Vee Jarvis was only eight years old when her mother died, and so the memories of her mother are few. Yet she recalls:

My mother was very beautiful. She had long brown thick hair, which hung nearly to her waist. I used to love to watch her brush her long hair that hung to her waist. I can still see her standing before her full-length mirror in her long nightgown and robe, brushing her hair. Father would watch her, too, and we thought she was so beautiful. She always had flowers in the house and I never remember an unpleasant thing happening there except when little Fay died.

Hannah also describes the house Flora and Loren Taylor occupied in Colonia Juarez:

In the living room facing west, there were two fine large windows and on each side of the door were small panes of colored glass. These were fascinating to me. Out in our yards there were lovely trees, some of them fruit trees, and blackberry and currant bushes. I remember especially a small well-shaped cherry tree that stood close to the kitchen door, which faced north. There were beautiful lawns and all classes of flowers and rose bushes. The flowers I loved best of all were the lilacs. There were four extra large lovely bushes that bore profusely. I and the other children would spend many hours playing dolls and other games under these bushes. We loved to make hollyhock dolls also.

Hannah also described baby Fay:

She was a fat, blonde little girl. She used to run away all the time. Although Mother kept the gate locked she would crawl under. She would usually go over to Aunt Mary's house. (Aunt Mary was one of our Grandpa Taylor's [Ernest L. Taylor] wives.) We were always bringing her home. The family made a joke of it, especially Father. She was usually following him. She died with whooping cough—Nelle and I were sick too—but she [Fay] didn't get well.

As a young boy, Flora's nephew, Keith Macdonald, remembers her as a tall, striking woman, outgoing, friendly, and jovial, quick with a pinch to discipline any misbehavior, but affectionate to him and his brothers, the sons of her older brother Byron.

Flora Macdonald Taylor was never well after giving birth to her last child, LaSelle. The only doctor was a chiropractor named Dr. Green who felt he could cure her ailment. Instead, she died on September 12, 1921, of a fever. Her baby was thirteen months old. She is buried in the Colonia Dublan cemetery next her father, mother, and husband. Her mother, Fannie Macdonald, at age 71, moved into a grieving Loren Taylor's home and took on the responsibility of caring for Flora's three children for nine years. Loren married Lillian Hatch on July 23, 1928, and their first child was named Flora Jean.

Flora had been a devout Latter-day Saint all her life, and her mother grieved deeply over her daughter's too early death before realizing her dream of going to the temple. In 1932, two years after Flora's mother's death, Loren's second wife Lillian formed a strong desire to go to the Arizona Temple to serve as proxy for Flora and to have her children sealed to her. The family lacked the ten dollars required for the trip, so Lucy Macdonald Bluth's daughter, Fannie Bluth, provided the money. Loren and Lillian made the trip to Mesa, Arizona, and on February 15, 1932, Lillian knelt as proxy for Flora at the altar in the Arizona Temple where the marriages were solemnized and children were properly sealed to their father and mother.

---

Loren Leroy Taylor

I was born September 29, 1887, in Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, Mexico, two years after my parents came to Mexico. My father is Ernest Leander Taylor and my mother Hannah Skousen. I started school at six years of age in the building that is now called the old schoolhouse on the east side of the river in Colonia Juarez. When I was eight years old, I was baptized by Brother John C. Harper who had been appointed by the bishop to perform all the baptisms in our ward. There was a flood in the river at the time and I went alone. Afterwards I ran home in my wet clothes. I have often wondered why some of the family didn't go with me.

Father had a farm up on the west side of the river under the west canal. We raised mostly alfalfa. He would cut one piece of hay then pasture the cows on it. My job was to drive the cows up to the pasture before going to school each morning then bring them home in the afternoon.

When I was small I used to run away from home. Mother got tired of going after me, so she tied me by my big toe with a string to the cherry tree that grew near the house. She told me that if I broke the string she would surely punish me. My cousin Marion Turley came along and broke the string and away we went. When we came back that evening, Mother had a long willow and she surely did switch me.

My younger brother Harvey and I were herding cows one day over on the Tinaja wash. It clouded up and started to rain, so we took our clothes off and put them in a little cave to keep them dry. When it started to hail, we really did some jumping around, but we kept our clothes from getting wet!

When I was young, very few boys my age owned a suit of clothes. I was one of the lucky boys to have one. One day our neighbor boy came over and borrowed my suit to have his picture taken. He was a little larger that I was and split out the pants. That really made me mad. I went down by the corner to watch for him when he came to bring the suit. I jumped on him and gave him a good beating.

When I was about twelve years old I had to do the milking. Our corral joined Brother Bentley's with only a fence between. When the time came for me to be ordained a deacon, Brother J.C. Bentley, then bishop of our ward, told me I would have to be more careful with my language. I really used to swear a lot, and I guess he had heard me call the cows Òsons of b's.Ó At fourteen, Dad let me work on the ranch as a cowboy, so Harvey milked the cows.

Dad used to cut wild hay out on Limestone Ridge. It would be raked up and put in cocks. The next day or so, Dad would tell us to go out and turn the hay over. We could run like Apache Indians, so we would run out (five miles from town), turn the hay over, and run back and think nothing of it.

When Grandfather Niels Skousen came to live with us, Father built him a nice room with a fireplace so he would be comfortable. He was a great reader; he read the Deseret News and the standard works of the Church. He said these were all fine to read, but that novels were from the devil and should not he read. He also said theaters weren't good because some of the cast dressed up like Negroes and Negroes couldn't even hold the priesthood. One time they got him to go to a show. He was there a while, resting his chin on his cane, when it finally dawned on him what it was. He jumped up and started down the aisle, stomping his cane as he went in disgust.

Grandfather was really a jolly old man, always playing jokes on people. He often sat in the dining room in a rocker and would reach out his cane and trip us as we passed, laughing as he did so. While walking down the sidewalk he would trip little children with the hook end of his cane then give them candy to make them happy. He always carried candy in his pocket for this purpose. All of us children thought he was surely a wonderful grandfather.

One day Grandfather caught a bad cold. Mother told him to take cayenne pepper with cream but to keep his mouth closed so the air wouldn't affect it. We soon heard a gasping sound in his bedroom and on entering, found him with the window wide open breathing the fresh air. He said, "Hannah, Hannah, I am burning up."

One day Harvey and I went up to the field for a load of hay before breakfast. When we came back we unhitched the horses, took off the bridles, and tied them to the wagon so they could eat while we had our breakfast. After breakfast when we went out to unload the hay, here came Grandfather wobbling along. As he came close I said, "Grandpa, don't get close to that sorrel horse; he is mean to kick." He stood and looked at the horse, then said, "It is those long eared horses that are mean to kick" (meaning mules). As he passed by the horse, it kicked him on the leg and knocked him down. He got up and said, "My gracious! My gracious!" and started toward the house. I told Harvey, "That is the only way you can tell him anything."

He told me that when I got married to marry two women at the same time. I replied, "If I do, they will cut me off from the Church." He said, "No, they wouldn't. If I was a young man, I would show you." He told Father that in the next world they would speak the Danish language. Father said, "You will be up against it because you have forgotten the Danish language, and you never could speak the English language very well."

Grandfather was a very kind man. He raised a good garden every year he lived with us. One day the gate was left open and our cows got in and were eating and tromping all through it. He called me and said, "Now you see, my good boy, can't you be more careful next time and not let the cows get loose?" I thought he surely would switch me, but he only got after me.

I was very thankful that Grandfather lived in our home, and that I had the privilege of becoming acquainted with him. He was a very religious man and attended his Church duties faithfully. When he was patriarch he gave me my patriarchal blessing in which he mentioned me having wives. I wondered how that would come about because it was against Church principles to have more than one wife. It did come true, however, because my first wife died and I married again, and my second wife died also, and I married the third time.

In 1908 Harvey and I bought all of Dad's property, his ranch and cattle, and his farming land. He had full-blooded Durham cattle, a stallion that had been shipped from the states that cost $4,000, and some French coach mares. When the revolution started in 1910, we lost a lot of the animals. Some bandits put a rope around the stallion's neck and led him off—we never saw him again. They also started stealing our colts. One day when I went up on the Tapacita to see if I could find some mares, I ran into three armed men. They motioned for me to come to them, but instead I whirled and ran the other way on my horse. They tried to overtake me but couldn't, so they started shooting at me. I ran up a side canyon and got away from them.

When the bandits got so bad to steal and loot our homes, the men decided we had better obtain some arms and ammunition from the states to protect ourselves. My brother Guy and my cousin Jess Taylor and I were appointed to go to Hermanas, New Mexico, a small town between Hatchita and Columbus to get them. Guy went by train to El Paso to buy the ammunition and ship it to Hermanas. Jess and I took the ten horses to bring it all in; we had to travel by night and hide in the daytime and couldn't make a fire because of the danger of bandits finding us. We really got cold and hungry; it was in March and was cold. When Guy reached Hermanas with the guns and ammunition, two secret service men got off the train and demanded them. They were to ship them back to El Paso. When Jess and I arrived at Hermanas, there was a garrison of American soldiers there to arrest us. We had planned to be right back so had brought no money or provisions. We also needed hay for our horses. There was an old gentleman that had a store, so I went to him and told him our circumstances and asked him if he would give us credit on the things we needed, that we had property in Mexico and would send him a check as soon as we got home (which we did). He gave us the provisions and hay for our horses. The soldiers kept us there two weeks then released us and we started home.

When we reached the Janos River, we saw some horsemen coming and I said to Jess, "If they are Red Flaggers (a faction that rose up against the government; it plundered and took advantage of the people—they all carried red flags) they will take everything we have." When they came up to us we discovered they weren't Red Flaggers, and they were just as frightened as we were. We reached home safely, but without the guns and ammunition.

About two months later, Guy took some wagons with hay and some men to help him out to the Corner Ranch in Chihuahua (at the corner of New Mexico) to try once again to secure guns and ammunition. They hid the arms under the hay and on returning went through Ascencion and right by the Red Flaggers. They arrived without incident.

Mother died of Bright's disease early in July 1912. Conditions became so bad that by the end of July the men decided to send the women and children to the states. They left on the train for El Paso the end of July. After they had gone, the men became dissatisfied and President Junius Romney wanted all the men as a group to decide what was best to do. It was decided that we would meet at the "Stairs," a place in the mountains west of Colonia Juarez. President Romney called for volunteers to go to Dublan to notify the men there. I volunteered and left the McDonald pasture where the Juarez men had gathered at 12:00 midnight. I reached Dublan at 3:00 a.m. I notified Bishop Thurber and Brother Harris of the stake presidency, who in turn called the rest of the men in Dublan. We left for the Stairs at sunup.

About two miles out of town they wanted me to go notify Brother Jackson who was over at his mill. The Red Flaggers were holding him there to grind flour for them. I said I would go if the men would wait for me, but they wanted to go on, so I didn't go to the mill. About fifteen minutes later the Red Flaggers started shooting at us. Bishop Thurber called on three men, Adelbert Taylor, Nate Tenney, and Ira Pratt, to fire back at them. On doing so the Red Flaggers left on the run toward Colonia Juarez.

Ammon Tenney had brought a wagon on which the men had thrown their food, blankets, etc. When the Mexicans started shooting at us, Brother Tenney had stopped and unhitched his team because they couldn't run as fast because of the wagon. All of the provisions were left behind. One of the mules broke loose with the harness on. I was out scouting and heard the mule choking, so I roped him and tried to unharness him. As I bent over to undo the harness, a bullet whizzed over my head, then a second one, but I got the mule unharnessed and turned him loose. As I looked up, our men were running as fast as they could and I had a time catching up. A few minutes later I was riding beside Jess Cardon and Brother Peter Wallene. Brother Wallene had an old long pistol with him and Jess said, "Brother Wallene, your pistol is cocked." He replied, "Doesn't make any difference; it has no bullets in it anyway."

We followed the river up to Walnut Grove, and from there southwest up along ridge until we came to the McDonald pasture. We continued on to Centerfire (a place where two canyons come together) and from there on to the Stairs without incident. On arriving tired and hungry, we found that we only had a sack of flour to eat. Claudius Bowman and I took fresh horses and went to find a beef to eat. We found none in the park nearby and had to go down to the river where we found a yearling steer. We took him back roped. After we were organized, some men went back to Colonia Juarez for food.

We stayed at the Stairs about a week waiting for the men from the mountain colonies of Garcia, Pacheco, and Chuichupa to arrive. Then we moved down to the park, a more open country. Here we held a meeting to decide what we should do, stay in the colonies or go to the United States. After voting it was decided to go to the states. We went to the Tapacita where we camped for two or three days and from there out to the border. There were about 270 men and 500 loose horses besides our mounts. We crossed the border at Dog Springs (between the Corner Ranch and Antelope Wells).

From Hatchita, I took the train (along with some of the others) and went to El Paso. A week later I borrowed $40 from my cousin Edward Taylor, went down to the justice of the peace, and married Flora Hermosa MacDonald on the 28th of August 1912. I had grown up with Flora (I was one year older than she), and I had a horse that she really liked. I had been seeing her for about two years as a beau.

We stayed in El Paso about two weeks then returned to our home in Colonia Juarez. I was anxious to know if there were any cattle and horses left on the ranch. I was very happy to find some, then on going up to the field I found the hay ready to cut, so I cut it and put it in my barn.

In November 1912, my brother-in-law Byron MacDonald and I went to Chihuahua City to buy some cattle. Since the Red Flaggers had destroyed some of the railroad we paid to go partway by coach (at that time there were only three automobiles in the city of Chihuahua). Within one month I had located 700 head of cattle to buy. One day when I was in the bank I met a friend who had contracted 700 head of cattle to another man, but he hadn't come to get them, so he said I could have them. I wanted to go down and look them over before deciding. (He lived in a little town called Meoqui.) I went down and the cattle looked good and had just decided to buy them when the man he had promised them to showed up to receive them. I told my friend to let him have them since he had made the deal first, so they were loaded on the railroad cars and shipped to El Paso. Halfway to El Paso, however, the Red Flaggers burned the bridges in front and behind the train and the cattle were all lost. I was glad afterwards that he had lost them and not me!

Later I bought a trainload of cattle and received them in Chihuahua City. The train dispatcher, an American, told us to load the cattle at four p.m. and we would leave for El Paso at four in the morning. When I went down to the depot at four in the morning, no one was there. The dispatcher came about eight o'clock when the office opened and said he couldn't find a crew to take them out because one engineer had been killed and the men were afraid to go. The cattle had been on the cars all night and I said, "What shall I do with these 27 cars of cattle?" He said, "I'll tell you what we'll do. We'll hold up the passenger train until you get the cattle train ready. They have an escort of soldiers on it and we'll go ahead of them." The passenger train was held up one hour and some of the passengers were surely angry. We reached El Paso at twelve at night instead of four o'clock when the passenger train was scheduled to arrive. As I was riding in the caboose on our way to El Paso, I looked out the window and saw something that looked like a man hanging on a telephone pole. Sure enough it was, and it didn't help ease our fright about the trip any.

I went back down to Chihuahua after completing the deal with these cattle and from there I went east on the Kansas City Orient Road to a little town called Falomir. There I contracted for 1,000 head of cattle, but when I was ready to ship them, a railroad strike was on and I couldn't get them shipped out. I had to turn the cattle loose and on the way back to Chihuahua the train ran out of fuel, and we had to wait until the trainmen cut some mesquite wood for fuel so we could go on. By the time Guy and I shipped some oxen to El Paso from Bustillos and I had completed several contracts for cattle, I had been gone five months from Colonia Juarez. On the 12th of June 1913 our first baby, a daughter, was born. We named her Hannah Vee.

In 1914 we had pretty good government under Villa. There was no plundering or stealing. My family and I were living in Mother's old home. Early one morning I heard shooting over at Father's house across the street. I quickly dressed and ran over to find Father being dragged from his house by Red Flaggers headed by Manuel Gutierrez. They had tried to enter the house, and only after hiding Father (an enemy of Gutierrez) did the women let them in. They hunted for Father and were about to leave when a boy pulled out the organ enough to see him with a rifle in his hand. As the boy yelled, Father shot him in the hand. They pulled Father out and forced the gun from him, cutting his hands he was gripping it so hard. While they were scuffling over the gun, one of the men shot at Father's head three times but missed. These were the shots that I had heard.

When I saw what was happening, I started back home for my rifle but they saw me and ordered me to come back or they would kill me. They took us both prisoners and marched us up the street as far as the old MacDonald home. There they had a discussion to decide what to do with Father. Just then Manuel Gutierrez rode up and said, "Loren, you go down and get your horse, saddle, gun, and six-shooter. If you don't we'll execute you with your father." He sent a man with me to get them and when we reached the house I lied and told him that I had sent my saddle, gun, and six-shooter with Harvey to his farm, so all they got was my horse. The boy Dad had shot decided finally that he was to get a doctor to take care of his hand, pay him 600 pesos, and leave the country. They took Dad up the river above the dam and kept him three or four days then turned him loose with orders to leave the country.

Father went to Chihuahua City where my two older brothers were in the hide business. After staying there about two weeks, he said he was not going to stay any longer and he was going home. He bought a twelve-gauge shotgun and came home, sending word to Manue1 Gutierrez by his brother that if he came around his place again he would open up on him with the gun. About two weeks later Gutierrez came into town with about eighteen men, but he didn't come around father's place. Some years later Harvey was talking to Gutierrez who said, "Do you know why I didn't kill your father?" Harvey said, "I have a pretty good idea." Gutierrez replied, "I was afraid you boys would kill me."

When the American government recognized Carranza as the leader of Mexico instead of Pancho Villa, Villa became angry, making a raid on the American border town of Columbus, killing people on the way out and plundering and killing in Columbus. It was rumored that Villa had threatened to kill every American in Mexico and that he was on his way back to Chihuahua after the Columbus raid. We were very frightened since Dublan was right in his path. I had brought my family down to the home of Oscar Bluth because we felt there was more protection from the garrison of soldiers at Nuevo Casas Grandes.

The men gathered at Brother Wilford Farnsworth's home to decide how to protect ourselves. Bishop Anson B. Call came along and told us to all go home, have prayers, and go to bed. That's what we did. The next morning Villa's tracks were traced southeast of Dublan out by the lakes and on south. Our prayers had been answered. This had been the most frightening incident during the revolutionary years. (Later rumors reached us that Villa on approaching Nuevo Casas Grandes saw it all lit up and thought the soldiers were prepared for him. So he went around Nuevo Casas Grandes and Dublan.)

Because of the Columbus raid, the United States sent American troops into Mexico under command of General Pershing. When the troops arrived in Dublan, Harvey and I went to talk to General Pershing and he asked where he could get some beef for his troops. I hold him that the Corralitos Co. had some cattle and that I would get some for him if he wanted it. The next morning I found some boys to help me and we gathered up about 100 head of cattle for the American forces.

After the American soldiers came to Mexico, Flora went back to Colonia Juarez and our second child, another little daughter was born on March 22, 1916. We named her Nelle Loriene.

As the troops moved south in pursuit of Villa, I went down to Namiquipa to furnish beef for them. We bought beef from the Mexican people and furnished the army with 3500 pounds a day. While I was buying cattle I also bought corn and beans for the army. I was paid a commission the two months I was there. When the troops were moved to El Valle, Harvey and I purchased and slaughtered the beef there also. At night we were entertained by movies which advertised our bullfights in the ring we had made.

One day while I was butchering, an orderly came and told me Captain Barnett wanted to see me. He relayed a message to me from General Pershing that the Taylor brothers were not to leave camp without an escort. Thus every time I went to butcher about a mile above camp, ten soldiers came to escort me there and back. After the troops left Mexico, the government confiscated all of the Taylor property and we had to leave Mexico for helping the U.S. forces. Later our land was returned to us through a lawsuit.

I went out to the states overland and my wife and children went on the train. We went to Virden, New Mexico, and my four brothers and I bought the Foster farm there. Two homes were built, one for my brother Guy and one for me. I soon became discouraged because my heart wasn't in farming; it was in horses and ranching. My wife Flora also was dissatisfied and said, "I would rather go to Mexico and live on bread and water than stay here." I again went overland, taking our wagon, horses, and cattle and sent Flora on the train with the children back to Colonia Juarez.

In 1919 I was operated on for appendicitis in Pearson by Dr. Gay. I was flat on my back for eight days, not even able to turn over. Dave Brown brought a herd of 600 head of bulls and 600 head of steers down from the mountains and wanted me to take the herd out to Columbus, New Mexico. I hesitated because I was not fully recovered from my operation, but he felt that the Mexican cowboy couldn't handle the herd so I decided to go. Seferino Villa, the cowboy who had been driving the herd, had driven the bulls too fast, trying to keep them up with the steers. The deal was made whereby I would drive the bulls and he the steers. When we stopped on the way out at the river to let the cattle drink, they stampeded and we had quite a time rounding them up. Then when we reached the Bocagrande Ranch below Ascencion, the channel of water was deep and some of the bulls bogged down in the clay while drinking. We had to pull them out with horses and ropes. One bull I had by the two hind feet, and a Mexican boy had him by the head. I told a boy nearby he had better move back to which he replied that he was all right where he was. When we pulled the bull out and turned him loose, he ran for the mule, picked him up from behind, lifting the mule on his front feet, and then ripped him open as he let him go. The mule was dead within minutes.

In the evening we were rounding up the cattle to night herd them when I went down to the river to water my horse. I then led him over to some green grass and took off the bridle and sat down on the ground to watch him eat. I looked up just in time to see a lion creeping up on us and as I jumped and yelled, he turned and ran. As fast as I could I put the bridle on my horse and ran after the lion but he got away from me.

On March 3, 1918, we were blessed with another little daughter, whom we named Fay. She wasn't with us long, though, for on June 22, 1919, she died of whooping cough.

I bought a farm in Colonia Dublan and moved the family there. I had to go out to the San Pedro mines to get a load of lumber. Flora was expecting our fourth child, and I was afraid to leave her, but she said she would be all right until I returned. When I returned the next day, August 28, 1920, our first little son had been born. Bishop Call had been there and milked the cow and had done the chores. We were really thrilled to have a son and we named him Loren LaSelle.

In September 1921 Flora became ill. We had no good doctors to care for her and she died September 12 and was buried in Dublan. The baby was a little over a year old, and I didn't know what to do, but Flora's mother, Fannie MacDonald, left her home in Juarez and came to live with us. She cared for our children and the home; she was a good cook and raised beautiful flowers. I made some chicken coops for her and she raised a lot of chickens.

I sold my farm just southwest of Dublan and started ranching. We bought the cattle cheap, but the price went down during the depression of 1933 and I went broke. The children were being well taken care of, but life was lonely without a wife and it was a large responsibility for Grandmother MacDonald to care for my children. I decided to try and find another wife.

I liked rodeos and had a beautiful horse called Old Bowe. He helped me win Lillian Hatch, the oldest daughter of Ernest I. Hatch and Lillian Haws in Colonia Juarez. She was teaching school in Colonia Pacheco. I made several trips to see her. We were married 23 July 1928 in Nuevo Casas Grandes by the Presidente, after which we started for Colonia Garcia to attend the rodeo and 24th of July celebration. After we returned, Grandmother MacDonald went to live with her daughter Lucy Bluth and the children had a new mother.

Lillian was very good to my three children and they all loved her dearly. I rented some land and did some farming. Our first baby, a daughter, was born June 2, 1929, and we named her Flora Jean. On 18 February 1933 Lillian's and my second baby, a boy weighing 12 pounds, was born. We named him Ernest Elwood. At this time I had some cattle rented and was running them on the Corralitos Ranch. Our third child, another son, was born on 22 March 1937. We named him Jerald Lynn.

In 1939 my brother Harvey, his son Lynn, and I decided to buy a ranch of 70,000 acres. It wasn't fenced and had only one spring and one watering hole on it. We fenced, drilled wells, and built corrals. We bought about a thousand rolls of wire for the fencing, and this was a big job. In 1940 Harvey went south and bought 1,000 head of cattle and shipped them up to Gallegos where I met them and drove them to the ranch. It took us 12 days to reach the ranch in the cold, snowy days of January. Lillian met me at the ranch. In three years the cattle paid for themselves and the ranch also (we had paid $1.30 an hectaria—2 1/2 acres).

On 20 April 1939, Hannah Vee left to go on a mission here in Mexico. Lillian had to undergo an operation on June 13, 1940, in Nuevo Casas Grandes. Three days later she died and was buried the same day in Colonia Dublan. Lillian had taken very good care of Flora's children, and now Flora's girls took care of Lillian's children. It was hard on Hannah Vee when she heard of Lillian's death since she was on her mission and away from home.

One day, four years later, I said to my sister Rinda, "I need to get married, who shall I marry?" She replied, "Marry LaVetta Lunt." LaVetta was a widow with nine children who was living in Colonia Juarez. About six months later we were married (December 30, 1943) in Nuevo Casas Grandes. She and her eight children (one daughter was married) moved down to Dublan, and I bought a larger house to make more room for our fifteen children. Many people predicted that we would have a lot of trouble, but we are still together after 24 years. All of our children are active in the Church; all have been married in the temple; ten have filled missions. We feel our marriage was pretty successful after all.

In 1959 while our two youngest sons, Jerald and Berkley, were on their missions; we took a trip to the U.S. with the Vida Fox Tour in the east. We had a wonderful time and saw so many wonderful things: Church historical places, the Hudson River on into Canada, Niagara Falls, and the Hill Cumorah Pageant.

We just celebrated my 80th birthday. Thirteen of our fifteen children were here—Hannah Vee was ill and could not attend and LaVetta's son Gary is serving in Thailand as a helicopter pilot, a captain in the Air Force. It was wonderful to have them home again. My sisters, Maud and Rinda, and Rinda's husband were here, and my brother Harvey and wife Rhoda attended. Also my half-sister Lydia was there. I love and appreciate them all and feel I have enjoyed eighty wonderful years.

[Postscript written by his daughter — On April 27, 1968, Loren LeRoy Taylor died at his daughter's home, Flora Jeanne, at El Paso, Texas. He was buried on April 30, 1968, at Colonia Dublan. All fifteen of his children were in attendance at his funeral. At his funeral the chapel, cultural hall, and stage were filled with people, plus many others who stood outside, which in itself speaks of the many friends that he had. Dad loved life, and though he had many setbacks, he was able to always be cheerful and keep his sense of humor. His great love in life was his family and he always praised all members of the family. A great loss was felt by all of us at the time of his passing and that wonderful spirit that delighted us all when we were with him comforted us in our time of sorrow. We all know that there was a great reception by loved ones and friends when he passed on into the next life. On his 80th birthday Dad roped calves with some of his boys. He was active and busy at his ranch at the time of his sudden death. The greatest gift that he left his family is the testimony that he had of the gospel, and all of his chi1dren and grandchildren will always remember the great example that he set. He would never have his children do anything that he was not willing to do himself.]

Return to Flora Hermosa MacDonald