WILLIAM H. RICE (DAD)

William Hyrum Rice (Dad) was born July 23. 1891 in Naf, Idaho. He was the  oldest child of Nathaniel Able and Alice Jane Rice. Dad was only 13 years of age when his father died due to  being struck by the hoof of a horse that reared just as Grandpa was leading him through a gate.  Dad was immediately thrust into adulthood. He took over most of the ranching duties and soon left home  to herd sheep  to help  my Grandma pay the taxes on the ranch. Dad continued the occupation of a sheep herder for most of my early childhood, and returned home  for the final  time when he became the bus driver for the Almo Elementary School.  I remember  going to his sheep camp a couple of times when  I was still quite young. I thought it was a fun place. He lived in a type of covered wagon  only sturdier, with a stove in it to cook his meals. We children played with the dogs, chased the little lambs until the mother Ewes chased us and just had a fun time. I had no idea how lonely his life must have been, being isolated for weeks at a time.
Dad and his faithful dogs (I think there was more than one) had to spend many a night fighting off coyotes, cougars, and an occasional  bear. When dad came home to see us, he always traveled at night. He would tell us stories of some of his more harrowing trips.  He said he could always tell when a mountain lion (cougar) was following him by the way his horse was acting. One time a cougar got close enough that dad could see his eyes glowing in the dark. It spooked his horse and dad had to calm the horse long enough for him to fire a shot into the air to scare away the big cat. Mountain lions never scared dad, but bears were a different story.  He always had his rifle with him for protection.
Dad was the most friendly, happy person I have ever known. He was so friendly that no matter where he went to  buy something, he was on a first name basis immediately. Dad  believed everyone was inherently decent and when we pointed out that some people are just plain evil, his response was always the same, they were good people who just got a 'bum rap' in life. My brothers could never convince him that some of our neighbors would purposely pay less for dad's livestock when he sold them. He insisted they thought it was an honest offer at the time.
One morning a sheriff came to our ranch with a picture of an escaped convict and asked my dad if he had seen this man. Dad said "yes, he was here last night and we gave him something  to eat and told him he could sleep in the barn".  The sheriff was dumbfounded and said "you don't want to be taking in strangers, that is a dangerous man". Dad and Mom always fed someone who was hungry, even if it meant we ate less, besides, he thought that fellow was pleasant  enough.  It clearly frustrated the sheriff and he warned my parents, "if you see him again, you lock your doors and windows. We never had a lock on  any door nor  on any windows.  We didn't see him again, but there was no doubt he would be given food if we had seen him.  The convict was caught hiding in the City of Rocks, which is now a state or national park. I was a teenager at the time, and some friends and I had been climbing the 'rocks' the night before he, the convict, was caught.  We children were not afraid  of strangers because our parents were not. When the ranch became too much for my parents, they moved to Logan, Utah to care for some apartments my brother and sister-in-law owned. They were directly across the street from the Logan Temple, we could sit out front and marvel at the Temple. My parents didn't lock their doors in Logan either until we insisted on  it.