Richard Gird Percy (known to almost everyone as “Gird” or “R.G.” but known to me and my siblings as “Grampa Gird”) was my paternal grandfather, and the son of James Percy, the immigrant ancestor of our Percy line.

Grampa Gird always had an “eye for the ladies,” as they would have said in his day. And he was never one to buttonhole them as much of society did. He was drawn to women who were spunky — who were not afraid to speak their minds, and who rode and ranched along with the best of the men. He loved their company, and he was happiest when he was married. After all, he outlived three wives and remarried after all but the last wife, who died when he was 92.

I have to believe that his view toward women was inspired by his mother, Cora Denice Percy (1857-1938). She was a beautiful and adventurous woman who met and married the love of her life, James Percy (1850-1892), at the age of 25. To be with him, she left the only home she’d ever known and her loving family in Calhoun, Iowa, to venture into the wilds of the Arizona Territory where she transformed herself into a cattle rancher’s wife, a role that was completely foreign to her.

In 1913, when our tale began, Gird Percy (my Grampa Gird) was an up-and-coming young man of 24 years, in business with his older brother, Earl James Percy (1886-1961). Together they owned a fruit tree nursery on Ventura Avenue, held the contract for much of the roadwork being done in Ventura County, owned several wagons and horses crucial to their enterprises, and leased land to cultivate hay for their use and for sale to other farmers and ranchers.

In the early spring of 1913 (likely January or February in Southern California), Gird was camping on a patch of rented land not far from the Dunshee Ranch and along Coyote Creek. He was readying the land to plant the oat crop that would produce the hay he and Earl would need come that autumn. As he plowed the ground, walking behind and guiding the horse and plow, he had reached the end of the field which bordered the road, there to behold the sight of two attractive young women on horseback approaching from the direction of the Dunshee Ranch.

Sisters Helen and Dorothy Dunshee were on their way to the postboxes at the schoolhouse to collect whatever mail might await them. Never let it be said that Gird Percy would miss a chance to get to know a couple of young ladies, so he halted his work and leaned on the fence. As they chatted, Gird learned that Helen had recently graduated from Mills College in Oakland as a teacher and was back home to stay, that the girls also had two younger brothers, and that they shared a love for horses. Too soon it was time to say goodbye to Helen and Dorothy.

The next day, and every day after, Helen came alone to fetch the mail, and Gird was always at the end of the field to greet her. Throughout the spring, Gird and Helen had many conversations, getting to know each other better through these meet-ups. Not only was Helen a beautiful woman with lush reddish-brown hair, but she was also a fashionable woman who enjoyed dressing for town and parties, calling on friends, and had many interests and talents. In addition to horses, she was also a lover of dogs; she was intelligent and well-read; she played tennis; she loved fishing and the outdoors; she worked on her family’s ranch, even milking the family cow; she was musical, playing the guitar and singing along. Is it any wonder that Grampa Gird fell head over heels…

One day she invited him to dinner at the ranch. Gird hesitated, glancing down at his work clothes and regretfully declined. Helen sat a little taller in the saddle and said not to worry, “We’re ranch people. We’re accustomed to men in ranch clothes,” settling the matter then and there.

After meeting her father at dinner and getting his approval, their friendship made the transition to courtship. No longer did they just meet at the end of the field. Gird was now calling on her in his horse and buggy and dining with Helen and her family at the ranch. They went on long rides on horseback throughout the countryside, amidst the birdsong and blooming wildflowers, with trout flashing in the sunlight as they darted through the creek, and abundant deer grazing the hills. They enjoyed picnics under the shade of one of the big valley oaks or sycamores that lined the creek and called on nearby neighbors and common friends — especially Zora and Lloyd Selby at the Selby Ranch, since Zora was Gird’s younger sister and he’d known Lloyd all his life.

Grampa Gird and Gramma Helen were married the following spring, on the 2nd of May 1914, celebrated by their wide range of family and friends.