On a Monday evening in January of 1938, Ruth sat down after a long day of teaching and wrote to Tip. She had traveled all night by bus to get back to her school — a stage from Deadwood, a late connection at Cheyenne, a wash and a comb at the schoolhouse before the children arrived.
She was tired enough, she said, that she might fall off her chair. But she wrote anyway, and she wrote to say that the miles between them had changed nothing: “You’ll never be very far from me again no matter what miles may seperate us.”
She tells him their last night together meant more than she could say aloud. She tells him she has already begun to feel like one of his family, that his mother feels like her own. She looks ahead to spring. And she admits the limits of the page — that she cannot put in written words how much she cares, and so she will spend the rest of their lives proving it.
This letter was preserved and shared by their granddaughter, Diane Hamilton.
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Letter from Ruth to S. T. (“Tip”) Melby
Written Monday, January 3, 1938, 8:00 P.M.
Postmarked: January 4, 1938 — Lyman, Wyo. [postmark partially struck]
Monday, 8 P.M.
My dear,
It doesn’t seem as though it were only yesterday that I saw you and talked to you. You seem so far away now, and yet you’re very close to me. You’ll never be very far from me again no matter what miles may seperate us.
My trip wasn’t so bad. I felt O.K. all the way. The bus wasn’t crowded and I had a whole seat to myself all night. I just curled up and slept like a bunny. We got in here early, about 8:35. The stage from Deadwood was late so that we were over two hours late getting into Cheyenne. I just had time to catch the bus for here. Anyway I had time to
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wash my face and comb my hair (at the schoolhouse) and they needed it.
Today was rather a hard day, but not really as hard as I thought it would be. The kids didn’t do much; they were too tired and restless, but most of them behaved quite well. If I could only quit worrying about the few who spoil my school for me. I’m going to try my best from now till spring to do my best with them and yet not let them get me down. Thinking of you helps me bear it.
I don’t think I’m going to be really unhappy, Tip. In fact I’ve a feeling that I’m going to be happy because I know that you love me and I have next spring to think about and plan for.
I’m so tired tonight that I’m not going to write a very long letter, but
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I want you to get this letter as soon as possible after you get back to Bordulac.
Our last night together meant so terribly much to me, Tip. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t know because I didn’t say much, but I was so happy and it meant so much I couldn’t talk. You knew though, didn’t you? You understand me that well.
I’m so anxious to write to Mother about us, but I’m just too tired tonight. I’m going to write to your mother very soon too. I feel as though she’s already my other mother. It seemed so natural to be at your place and with your family that I feel as though I already belong. But I guess it’s impossible to put on paper in mere written words how much I care. I’m going to prove it to you all our lives. The way you care for me is the most beautiful thing that
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has ever happened to me — yet.
Guess I’d better go to bed before I fall off my chair. Write often won’t you, Tip, because I’m going to miss you awfully. I don’t feel quite all here without you.
I love you, dear.
Ruth
