Tag: cattling

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

She gripped the covers and stared at the curtains
moving in the breeze from the open window. The wailing, howling
cry continued without letup – Margaret’s laughter from her dream.
But this eerie sound was not laughter, and it was interspersed by
occasional yelps like those of a dog in anguish.
Recognition dawned suddenly. “Coyotes,” Sarah said aloud. The
sound of her own voice calmed her.
She lay back against the pillows and pulled the sheet up to her
chin. When the howling stopped she whispered derisively into the
sudden silence, “Sarah Roberts, coward.” O
Sarah next awakened to the tantalizing aroma of bacon and coffee.
When she opened her eyes she could see light streaming in through
a gap in the curtains. She lay still, wondering how to face Ben with
the news that she wouldn’t marry him. Breaking her promise was
aberrant to her. And she certainly had promised to marry him.
Otherwise, why was she here alone with him in this house, on this
barren prairie a thousand miles from anything familiar?
Finally, hunger pangs overcame the pangs of anxiety. She got up
and quickly dressed in slacks and a light blouse. She felt annoyed
with herself that she hadn’t thought to bring water into the room
the night before so that she could, at the very least, have splashed
her face and washed her hands. In the house in Tillsonburg she
used to rise early enough to bathe before her mother awoke and
required attention.
When she stepped into the kitchen she saw Ben standing at the
stove. Grease sizzled in a frying pan into which he was breaking
eggs. He looked up briefly when she said, “Good morning, Ben,”
and nodded his head in response.
She dipped water from the stove reservoir into a basin and carried
it to a wash stand in the corner of the room.
“Want some bacon and eggs?”
Sarah half turned. “Yes, please, I would. I’m very hungry this
morning.”
“No wonder,” he muttered, “after the amount you ate last night.”
She glanced at him quickly, childishly grateful that he had noticed
even this much about her. But, as she dried her face …

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Still Waters

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calling from Emblem. So Tyne was surprised and cheered to hear
Cam’s voice.
“I’ve been trying to reach you ever since Moe called this morning,”
he said, sounding relieved. “Why didn’t you call me right away, Tyne?
Dad would have driven you to the Hat.”
“I couldn’t put him out, Cam … well, to be truthful, I never even
thought about it. I’m so used to riding the bus. But it seemed to take
forever to get here.”
“I hate to think of you making that trip alone as worried as you
must have been. How is your dad?”
Tyne repeated what the doctor had told her, her mother and Aunt
Millie only minutes before – that Jeff stood a good chance of surviving,
but that he may have partial paralysis of his right side. “He has
some movement and feeling in his leg, and his speech is slurred, but
Doctor Sanger thinks the speech will come back in time.”
“I’m glad to hear that, honey. When Moe called me, I feared the
worst. How long will you be there … or is it too early to know?”
“It is too early, Cam.”
“Where are you staying? Is there some place I can call without
bothering the hospital?”
“We’ll be with a family friend. Aunt Millie has obtained permission
for us to take it in turns staying with Dad around the clock.” She
pondered a moment. “Tell you what, Cam. I’ll call Moe tonight and
give her the phone number.”
“Good girl. We’ll talk again tomorrow. And Tyne?”
“Yes?”
There was a brief pause. Then he said clearly and firmly, “Remember
I love you.”
Before she could respond, he hung up.
Tyne stayed at her father’s bedside for a week. Because she was
used to working odd shifts, she insisted that her mother and Aunt
Millie get their normal rest at night while she stayed in the hospital
room. At the end of seven days, the doctor assured them that,
although Jeff ’s recovery and rehabilitation would probably be slow
and tedious he was, at least for the present, out of danger. Tyne,
with ambivalent feelings, returned to Calgary under the care of her…

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Water in the Wilderness

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… than it had been outside with the frigid wind whipping stinging snow into their faces. Her feet still felt wooden, though, and her fingers were stiff and beginning to hurt. She removed her mittens, then reached for Bobby’s hands and pulled his mittens off. If her fingers were freezing, what must his be like? He whimpered a little as she awkwardly tried to rub his icy fingers.
As she pulled his mittens back on his hands, he slumped over at her feet. “Wanna sleep, Rachael, wanna sleep.”
Ronnie stepped out of the darkness and picked the child up. “No, Bobby, you can’t sleep yet. You’ve gotta keep moving around. I know … let’s all play a game.”
“What game?” Rachael said. “W … we can’t even see. How c …can we play a game?”
Ronnie hesitated, murmuring to himself as if thinking hard. “I know, we can play pattycake. It’ll keep us close together, and keep our hands warm.”
Rachael laughed. “Pattycake? That’s a baby’s game.”
“Okay, Miss Smartypants, what do you suggest?”
“Oh, all right. Let’s do it. Here Bobby, pattycake, pattycake, baker’s man ….”
They pattycaked around the small circle until Bobby suddenly sat down on the board floor. Ronnie reached down for him, but Rachael said sharply, “No, let him be. I’m gonna sit down, too. I don’t wanna play anymore.” She flopped down beside her brother, and put her arms around him. “I just wanna to go to sleep, Ronnie. Please let us go to sleep.”
For several seconds he remained quiet, then he said casually, “Okay, you can sleep – if you don’t mind bein’ woke up by that rat when it runs over your face.”
Rachael screamed and bolted upright. “Where? W … where is it?” She peered around, her eyes trying desperately to penetrate the darkness.
“See, over there,” Ronnie said, “can’t you see its eyes?”
Rachael jumped to her feet, pulling a protesting Bobby with her. “No, no, where?”

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Wellspring of Love

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“That’s all, Dad. We’re not going out anywhere, I promise.”
“Fine. Give Lyssa’s clothes back to her. Now sit down and let’s get
started before everything gets cold. All right, Bobby, go ahead.”
Once again they joined hands around the table and bowed their
heads for Bobby’s shortened grace.
ͣͣ
With the twins settled in their beds – but not without complaining
that it was still light outside – Tyne returned to the kitchen to pour
two cups of freshly brewed coffee. She added fresh cream and carried
them outside to where Morley sat on the porch swing.
“Where’s Bobby?” Tyne asked as she handed him a mug and sat
down beside him.
“Doing a final round in the barn and taking Sparky for a run.”
Tyne sighed. “Poor old Sparky. I don’t think he’ll be with us much
longer, do you?”
Morley took a sip of coffee and shook his head in the negative.
“No, I’m afraid not. He’s lived longer than most big dogs live. But he’s
not suffering, just losing energy and his zest for life.”
Tyne placed her hand on Morley’s where it lay on his knee. “It
will break Bobby’s heart when Sparky dies. They’ve been inseparable
since the day I brought the kids home for what was supposed to be a
temporary stay with us.” She laughed lightly with the memory.
Morley took her hand in his big one and squeezed it. “Almost ten
years ago. Can you believe it? I sometimes wonder how we did it all
with everything that went wrong that first year.”
Tyne smiled and turned her head to kiss him on his stubbled
cheek. “You know how we did it. Only with prayer and God’s faithful
guidance.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes as the swing moved gently back
and forth. The only sounds were the familiar bawl of a calf in the barn,
and from the chicken house close by, the rising and falling murmur of

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Prairie Roots

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ridiculously low prices; even the children may not have fetched
much, being offspring of immigrants. Life was indeed a struggle,
as the first four boys arrived into their care.
My initial memories of that farm include a vague vision of a gray
two-storey frame house and chickens all over the yard. The chickens
I remember looking at in some puzzlement, from an upstairs
bedroom window, and wondering as to their relationship to me. I
also remember the big blocks of “relief” cheese which mother sliced
on the kitchen table; however, I do not remember whether or not I
liked it. It seemed to me that the weather was always sunny, perhaps
because we were only let out when the sun shone.
My most vivid early memory is associated with the 1938
Beeston school Christmas concert at which time I was three and a
half years old, having been born in May of 1935. I remember not
the concert itself, having slept through most of it, but being awakened
in my Uncle Mike’s arms by the noise of Santa’s arrival. Obviously
my name was called and my Uncle hastened forward with
me to see Santa, who scared me half to death before presenting me
with a red toy truck. I have liked trucks and have been leery of
long-haired men ever since!
We lived in our home until the spring of 1940 at which time my
parents bought a 320 acre tract of virgin land from the Hudson Bay
Company, seven and one half miles north of Hubbard. Where is Hubbard,
you ask? Half way between Goodeve and Ituna or, to locate it another
way, about 100 miles northeast of Regina. The new land had not seen a
plough. The neighbors had pastured cattle on it over the years, otherwise
not a tree had been cut nor a stone picked. All this was about to change.
But first a house had to be built to …

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https://www.amazon.com/dp/0980897920

Fury of the Wind

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excerpt

what she had been through since four o’clock that afternoon the
condition of the interior of the house had afforded the most welcome
relief she could imagine.
Ben did not look up so she spoke above the voice on the radio.
“I hope you won’t think me rude if I retire early, Ben, but I’m extremely
weary.”
He nodded. “Be turning in myself soon.”
“Very well. Good night.”
He looked up then and smiled briefly. “G’night.”
In the bedroom she closed the door firmly behind her. There
was no key in the lock. After a moment’s hesitation she carried the
chair from beside the bed and shoved the high back under the door
handle.
She took a cotton nightgown and a hair brush from her overnight
bag, removed the dress she had worn for three days on the
train and hung it, along with her underwear, on a two-inch spike
in the bedroom door. When she had pulled the nightgown over her
head she went to the window, pushed the lacy white curtains aside
and raised the sash. If the flies wanted to come in, so be it, because
she could not stay in that room without fresh air.
Twilight lingered, streaking the western sky red. There were no
outbuildings on this side of the house. The wind of the daylight
hours had diminished to a light breeze in which a field of wheat
waved gently. The faint sweet scent of goldenrod wafted in through
the window. On a fence post a robin sat to warble its evensong.
To the right of the house stood a clump of poplar trees surrounded
by scrub brush. Through them, Sarah discerned the outline of
a small rooftop. Realizing it must be an outhouse she experienced
a moment of panic when she suddenly felt the call of nature. Why
had she not thought to go out before she readied herself for bed?
She didn’t feel inclined to dress again but she certainly had no intention
of embarrassing herself by running into him as she passed
through the kitchen in her robe and slippers. Besides, who knew
what wild animals or species of snake may lurk in the bushes in the
fading light?
Only one hope remained. Sarah quickly got down on her knees
and lifted a corner of the counterpane to peer under the bed. Yes,
there it was – a white chamber pot. She sat back on her haunches…

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Water in the Wilderness

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Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, be with us sinners now and the hour of our death. Amen.”
After a moment, she said aloud, “Please keep Morley safe, Lord. Send him to me, I need ….” Her words cut off by another sharp pain, she cried out, “Dr. Rosthern, please hurry.”
Rachael knew she couldn’t go any further. Her feet and hands were blocks of wood. Her whole body felt as though it didn’t belong to her. To make matters worse, she was beginning to see things that weren’t there. Several times she had called out to Ronnie where he walked ahead of her breaking the trail.
“Ronnie, look,” she’d called, “there’s a house up ahead of us.”
But each time he had dashed her hopes. “No, there’s nothin’ … no buildings … nothin’.”
She had felt like crying but was too exhausted to do even that; anyway, her tears were all dried up.
She glanced at Bobby on Ronnie’s shoulders. Her brother had been quiet for a long time. His head had fallen forward, and he looked to be fast asleep.
Sleep – that’s what she needed. She absolutely could not go on another minute without sleep. She stopped walking, sank down on the snow and let her eyes close of their own accord.
“Rachael, get up. Get up.”
She struggled to open her eyes. Her mother was calling her. She must have overslept and she’d be late for school. She tried to sit up, but a heavy weight on her whole body seemed to be holding her down.
“Rachael, Rachael, please get up. You can’t go to sleep. We’ve got to keep moving or we’ll freeze.”
Ronnie stood over her, jolting her back to reality – the reality that seemed more dream that real. He grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet.
“Bobby’s sleeping,” she said tonelessly. Actually, it made no difference to her whether she slept or whether she froze. She teetered on her …

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He Rode Tall

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“I am sorry to hear that. I was hoping that they would see it the
other way—that having Circle H horses at their sale would draw
even more buyers. And the right kind of buyers.”
“Afraid not. Guess that takes us to Plan B.”
“Plan B?” Joel asked.
“Exactly. The way that I see it, you really don’t have any option
but run your own sale. The Ramage Ranch Sale is the last Saturday
in September—has been going forever. Brings in big crowds
from all over. Let’s do your sale on the Sunday right after. That
way, people are here already and may want to stay for your sale.”
“Would that work, Roy? Aren’t you concerned about upsetting
the folks at the Ramage Ranch by working with me the day after
their sale?”
“As it happens, the Ramage people aren’t a client. Used to be.
They bring in a crew from Denver to manage their sale now. It
really hurt when they dropped us. Had been good clients for
years, or so I thought.”
“I guess that would work. But who would want to stay over and
go to your auction yard for only . . .”
“Hang on right there, cowboy. I learned a long time ago that
there is only one place for a ranch horse sale. And that is on the
ranch.”
“Okay, I guess that makes sense, but who would want to come
all of the way out here for only a dozen horses? Hardly seems
worth it.”
“Need to talk about that too: how do you feel about putting a
few of your weanlings, yearlings, and two-year-olds in the sale?”
“Well, I guess I could. But I need that young stock for future
years.”
“The way I see it, if we put a small offering of your younger
horses in the auction in addition to the three-year-olds, you
would really increase the appeal. Young stock might be what
some folks need to stay one more day and attend your sale.”
“Let me think about it, Roy. It sounds like I need my own sale,
but I don’t know if I want to sell any of the younger horses.

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Fury of the Wind

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He had fallen silent again, and Sarah felt too weary to bother
with small talk. She had done her part – the rest was up to him. She
could not understand him, and surely had not expected this indifference.
Had she done something wrong?
She wondered if his reticence was caused by nervousness. If so,
he certainly did not show it. His long, lean hands rested easily on
the steering wheel and his lanky body slouched in the seat.
Sarah sighed and turned her head to watch the passing landscape.
Mile after mile of wheat fields rolled by the window, their uniformity
broken only by an occasional stand of poplar trees. Reddish
bristly spikes of foxtail lined the roadside, and clumps of Russian
thistle struggled in the wind to be free of the barbed wire of the
picket fences. Poking their heads above the couch grass on the borders
of the fields, and dotting the billowing carpets of grain, were
numerous yellow flowers of the wild mustard plant.
She marvelled at the flatness of the prairie. The horizon seemed
to stretch to infinity, the sky so big and blue that Sarah felt she could
float up and into it.
A lone gopher emerged from the underbrush and skittered across
the road. A hawk wheeled and dived overhead. Sarah wondered idly
if the rodent’s flight was an effort to escape the mechanical menace
bearing down on it, or the winged menace from above. She turned
her head to mention her observation to Ben but the set of his lips
did not encourage conversation. She focussed again on the scenery.
They passed two or three farms, and Sarah noted with astonishment
that none of the houses or outbuildings showed signs of having
been painted. They stood out on the prairie like beacons but,
rather than giving a sense of welcome to the traveller on the road,
they appeared drab and cheerless.
The roar from the old motor and the stifling air inside the pickup
were making Sarah feel ill. She closed her eyes but they were jolted
wide open by Ben’s sudden announcement.
“Mrs. Thompson can’t come ’til tomorrow.”
Sarah stiffened. Her mouth went dry and she felt her stomach
heave. “You said she would come tonight.”

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Wellspring of Love

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“Oh yeah, Grandma Milligan rang. Said she’ll call you later.” She
swung around to face Tyne. “Is there any mail? Anything from Pa?”
“No, I’m afraid not, honey.”
Rachael shrugged. “Yeah well, I guess he’s more interested in his
new family now.”
Tyne walked over to the girl and put her arm around her. “Oh
Rachael, I’m sure that’s not the case. He’s likely busy getting them
settled, as well as going to work every day in the railway yard.”
“I know, Mom, but he used to write at least every two weeks before
he married that woman and took her kids on as well.”
Tyne frowned and withdrew her arm, but kept her voice gentle.
“Rachael, Margaret has a name. Please don’t refer to her as that
woman. She seemed very nice when we met her, and I’m sure she’s
going to make your pa happy. Don’t begrudge him that.”
Rachael sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry.” She hesitated, then blurted,
“Mom, can I go to Lyssa’s tonight after supper? She said she’ll come
pick me up.”
Tyne’s eyebrows drew together. “You were there just two nights
ago, honey. Is there something special planned for tonight?”
Rachael shrugged. “Naw, just hanging and listening to records, I
guess. Please, Mom. It’s Saturday night. Lark’ll be there, too.”
“What about your Aunt Ruby? Will she be at home?”
Rachael hesitated. “I … don’t know … that is, I don’t think so. So
Lyssa says we can have the house to ourselves and play the record
player as loud as we like.”
Tyne took a deep breath. Should she give Rachael permission to
go to the Harrisons’ when there were no adults at home? Although
Lyssa considered herself an adult, Tyne would be far happier giving
Rachael permission to spend an evening with fifteen-year-old Lark
than with the precocious eighteen-year-old sister.
“Mom?”
“We’ll ask your dad when he comes in from the barn. If he says it’s
okay, then you can go. But I want you home by half past ten.

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