A year later a second child was born on Christmas Eve in 1904, a girl they named Mildred Marie. Sadly, she died a few months later on March 3rd of 1905.
Another year later a third child was born on February 28th in 1906, a boy they named Arthur Leroy. He died four days later, and ironically he died on the one year anniversary date of his sister's death, which was March 3rd. Both Mildred and Arthur are supposedly buried in the Rufus Pioneer Cemetery, and most likely next to the INFANT Striker child, but no headstones, fencing or markers are evident to verify this belief.
Another year later a fourth child, Helen May was born in 1907 but tragically died at the age of 21 from pneumonia. In 1909, two years later the birth of Helen, a fifth child was born and named Georgia. She managed to break the young death cycle and lived a happy long life to the age of 73. The causes of death to the three infants is unknown. Bessie Striker was one not to talk much about family history.
What a tragic loss, unfathomable for any family to endure. A birth followed immediately by death again and again and yet Arthur and Bessie kept trying to build a family. The emotional toll it must had taken on the two of them, forced to bury three infants and later bury Helen at age 21. No parent should ever have to bury a child, let alone four out of five of them. |
One would assume the tragic story, centered around the Infant Striker child, would be enough of a reason for anyone's curiosity in stories behind a grave, to also have an interest in visiting this sacred little cemetery. But, the INFANT child was just a story next to a dramatic story.
The Unknown Five in the Rufus Cemetery was what originally brought me to the little cemetery on a bluff in the first place, but I walked away with so much more.
Prior to walking up to the cemetery through a sloped field of sage brush, wild lupine and tall brown grass, I was advised by a few Rufus residence's to take plenty of water, wear long pants, and watch out for rattlesnakes.
The lack of water and stepping on a rattlesnake was not enough of a deterrence to keep me from making the trek up the hill to the gate of the cemetery.