Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies Page 17
“I better seal the windows,” said Nap. Grabbing the bag of rags from the closet, he shoved some under the doors and along the base of the window, but the relief was only temporary. The dust still found its way in, its long fingers reaching inside the cracks of the frame
Lea prepared the dinner despite the storm, placing lids on the pots to keep the dust out. Every few minutes, she wiped a layer off the stove. When the children began to cough and wheeze, she fashioned a bandana for each child to wear over their nose.
The storm continued to rage the next day, a whirling brown mess. Nothing was visible through the window. It was as though their world had ended at the door, the rest cast into darkness. Lea and the children continued to wipe down the furniture and sweep the floor, but still the dust wriggled its way in.
After supper, Nap pulled out his fiddle.
Lea flashed him a look of incredulity.
“We might as well enjoy ourselves,” he shouted above the wind, breaking into a grin.
“Oui, Papa!” Pol shot up and ran to the cabinet where he retrieved the wooden puppet and paddle Bonhomme Noël had brought him.
Lea leapt up from her sewing, took two spoons out of the drawer, and placed them back to back. Napoleon broke into a tune. She tapped the spoons together in rhythm against her lap and her other hand while Pol tap-danced his puppet on the board, bouncing it up and down with his left hand. Lilian and Claire danced to the music, laughing and singing as they held hands, twirling in circles. The music lasted until the younger children’s eyes, heavy with sleep, begged to close, and Lea led them to their beds, tucking them in for the night.
“That was certainly a fine way to pass a dreadful evening,” she said as she took the quilt off their bed and gave it a good shake.
“Made more sense than to sit around being miserable.”
“Do you think the storm will end soon?” Lea spread the cover back on the bed.
“I don’t know,” replied Nap. “I’ve never been in one before.”
“Then we might as well sleep in,” she said, climbing in beside her husband.
“Sounds good to me,” he said, placing his arm around her.
The wind howled all night long. Lea awoke each time an object struck the house or when a particularly wild gust of wind threatened to overturn it. Rolling onto her back, she listened to the turbulent gale. Suppose a tornado hit. Hadn’t there been one in Regina in 1912? Yet despite her fretting, she eventually fell back to sleep.
When she opened her eyes the next morning, the peaceful sound of birds met her ears.
Lea rose from her bed and sauntered over to the window. She rubbed it and looked out, but the glass was so thick with dust, she couldn’t see anything. She opened the door a crack only to have a bucket’s worth of dirt tumble into the entrance. Momentarily scowling at the mess that lay at her feet, she raised her face to take in the scene before her. Drifts of soil had climbed halfway up the barn and covered the fence so high that any one of the horses could have scrambled over it and wandered away. But worse yet, her garden was completely buried.
“No!” she cried. “We’ll starve!” Throwing on her shoes, she ran to where the normally green plants shot up and began digging through the dirt, handful by handful. “Help! Quickly! We need to save the garden. Nap!”
Napoleon and the two older children appeared in their pajamas.
“Hurry, Pol!” she said. “Lilian, you look after Claire.”
Together, they raced about, clearing the dirt until one by one, they dug out the plants.
When they’d nearly completed the task, Pol’s eyebrow wrinkled. “What’s happened to the animals?”
Nap stood up and looked around. “I don’t know. I put them in the barn. I hope they’re okay. Go look.”
The boy disappeared inside. Lea waited, her breath held until he came out leading Old Dick by the halter.
“They’re all just fine!” he shouted. “Kind of dirty, but fine.”
Lea turned, letting out sigh of relief and wiping away tears on her sleeve.
“But there’s a really big a mess in there,” said Pol. “It’s going to take a long time to sweep it out.”
Sweep they did. They worked hard, clearing the dust and resumed watering the garden and field with the now murky waters.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Visitors
Lea heard Pol’s voice in the distance as she watered the garden. Glancing back over her shoulder, she spied her son hurrying as he dragged along Lilian. Something wasn’t right. Lea stood up, shading her eyes from the bright sun.
“What is it?” she called back, laying down the empty container of water she held.
“Indians!” Pol shouted. “Come quick!”
Lea’s pulse quickened. She’d seen natives before and had heard they’d once been a problem for settlers, but that was a long time ago. Were they rising again? She ran to meet the children, her heart thudding, but as she neared them, the looks on their faces read excitement, not fear.
“Hurry! They’re on the big rock!” said Pol.
“How many?” Lea asked.
“This many.” Lilian held up five fingers.
“It’s a mother and four kids,” said Pol.
“Well, what are they doing?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Just sitting around.”
“Sitting around?” Lea looked past the children into the fields, searching. “Wait here,” she said, then ran back to the house and came back with a tin of homemade cookies. She picked up Claire. “Show me.”
The children raced ahead, waiting from time to time for Lea and Claire to catch up. When the great rock came into sight, Lea slowed her pace. An entire family sat atop, eating. Lea admired the buckskin dresses the woman and girls wore, decorated with geometric beadwork.
Lea stepped forward. “Hello,” she said, offering a carefully placed smile.
The Indian woman seemed to size her up, her eyes sweeping up and down Lea’s figure.
Lea felt a shiver, hoping that the woman too was admiring her dress. She held up the tin box. “I have cookies.”
The woman eyed the container for a moment, then slid down from the rock.
“They’re good.” Lea opened the tin, revealing two types. “These ones are molasses, and these ones are sugar cookies. Have one.” She held them at arm’s length.
Looking back at her own brood, the woman eyed the sweets and took one of the darker ones. After nibbling for a bit, she smiled, then turned to her children, motioning them forward.
They scrambled down from the rock.
Lea allowed them each a cookie, then passed the container back to their mother. “You can keep the box.”
The woman nodded, tucking it under her arm. From her own buckskin bag, she handed Lea a piece of dried meat. “Pemmican,” she said, holding it to her mouth and pretending to take a bite.
Lea looked down at the offering with uncertainty, then accepted the gift. She tore off a strip, chewed it, then nodded. “Mmm, good.” When she’d swallowed it, she worded her next question with caution. “Are…are you just passing through on your way somewhere?”
The woman glanced at her eldest son, a boy of possibly thirteen, who translated. “We’re going to a pow wow.”
“A pow wow?” asked Lea.
“Yeah.”
“What’s a pow wow?” Lea felt a little uneasy.
The boy exchanged guarded expressions with his mother, then shook his head. “It’s secret. Only the Sioux are allowed to know.”
“Okay, then. Where will you be having this pow wow?” Lea asked, keeping her voice as pleasant as possible.
“Over there.” The boy pointed to the horizon where the sacred rocks Nap had refused to clear sat.
Lea felt a shiver despite the heat. “When will it happen?”
“Tomorrow.”
Nodding, Lea turned her attention back to the boy’s mother. “If you’d like some water, we have some at the house.” She pantomimed drinking.
“We already have some,” said the boy.
Pol and Lilian climbed the rock and waited for the other children to join them. They slid down the smoothest part of the stone, then hurried back up to try again, taking turns. Lea watched them for a while. I guess children are children despite the colour of their skin. Look at them play. Smiling, she turned to speak to the Indian lady again, but was surprised when she saw she’d packed her things. The woman motioned her children to follow, ending the game just as quickly as it had begun.
“Bye,” called Pol and Lilian, looking disappointed.
The native children waved.
That night, after dinner had been cleared and the dishes washed, the drumming began.
“What is it all about?” Lea asked Nap as she knit socks for Pol.
“I don’t know,” he replied. “I’ve never heard them do this before.”
“I mean we’re long past the days of attacks, and that sort of thing, right?”
Nap let out a chuckle. “I’m certain we are.”
The drumming lasted through the evening and long into the night. When they awoke the next morning, the rhythms still pounded away.
“I wonder how long this will go on,” said Lea. “I mean, how long do pow wows last?”
“I’ve heard they can go on for days.”
They ate a slow breakfast, listening to the rhythmic pelting. When they’d finished, Lea poured the tea. “Maybe you should stay home today.”
“I can’t. I have to dig a new well since the old one’s drying up.”
“But where?” asked Lea, adding milk to her tea. “There’s no water left in the slough.”
“Part ways to Devlin’s coulee.”
Lea frowned. “But that’s not our land.”
“I already spoke to him. He doesn’t mind, considering there’s a drought going on. Besides, their house is way on the other end of their homestead. They won’t lose water because of us.”
“Well, do what you have to then.”
By nighttime, the drumming still echoed in the distance, keeping Lea on edge though she was somewhat comforted knowing that nothing bad had happened thus far.
“How is that well coming?” she asked her husband as she loaded up the plates of food when he came in.
“Slowly, but surely. I’ll have to dig deep, but I know there’s water to be had.”
“A well closer by will be a handy thing,” she said, laying the dinner on the table.
The next day, the drumming persisted. Lea, as usual, tended to her garden while the children watered the livestock. Near lunchtime, she watched with curiosity as a buggy traveled the road in the distance. How sad to see people’s vehicles stripped down to just the body pulled by a horse, the engine and windows having been removed. She followed the vehicle with her eyes for a time, but instead of passing by the homestead, it came up their road and stopped. It was Cécile!
Lea dropped everything and ran to meet her friend. “What happened to your automobile?”
Cécile let out a huff. “It was Claude’s doing. We can’t afford the gas, and it would take a team of horses to pull the entire contraption, so Claude took out the engine and doors to lighten it. And now we have this funny little buggy. They call it a Bennett Buggy after the prime minister.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing, right?”
“I guess so. You know, I’ve heard the government is sending out food and clothing.”
“Really?” Lea felt a twinge of hope.
“Yes. Apparently they requested help from all over Canada, and it’s on the way. Boxes of coats, canned goods, apples…really, anything will help.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Lea threw a glance back at the fragile garden. “How’s your crop going?”
“Well, about as well as can be expected. We’re all in the same boat, but at least Claude is staying home since he has to save the farm. And he hasn’t gambled it away…yet.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Lea stopped and listened. “Can you hear the drumming from your place?”
“No, but I heard in town that the Sioux are doing their rain dance, and that the government is turning a blind eye even though it’s been against the law for years. I sure hope it works.”
Lea gave a skeptical smile. “I wish. But what’s a bunch of people dancing going to do? If I thought it would help, I’d dance all day too.”
“Well, I’m willing to wait and see. It certainly can’t hurt.”
“I suppose.”
“So is there any news?” Lea winked. “Is there a baby on the way?”
Cécile sighed. “No, not yet.”
“Why don’t you come in and we can have tea?”
“That would be nice. I think I will.”
After a brief visit, exchanging stories of who had left town and what other farmers were doing to save their livestock, Lea walked Cécile back to her buggy. She felt dismayed to see how thin Cécile’s horse had become. She hoped it was true the government was shipping out food and clothing because despite her sewing garments from flour bags, they would still need winter clothing.
The drumming lasted all through the night and the next day and ended as abruptly as it had begun. Lea let out a sigh of relief as the air cleared. Gazing up at the sky, her eyes widened at the huge clouds that had formed. Magnificent clouds! Black clouds! Messengers of hope. And then it began.
The rain poured down, a deluge, the thirsty ground sucking up the water.
Lea grabbed Claire and ran out into the storm. The other children followed closely behind. She began a frantic dance. “It’s raining!” she shouted. “It’s really raining!” Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. From a distance, she saw Nap arrive with the horses. After letting them loose into the pasture, he joined his family. They danced about, singing, laughing, and crying as the wonderful life-giving rain cascaded down their bodies, drenching them to the skin, and filling them with hope for the future.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Old Dick
The thrill of the storm was short-lived as the earth dried up once again, leaving deep cracks in the hardened earth and swallowing up the promise of life. Lea did what she could to save the garden, but the line of canned goods that normally filled her with pride was sparser this year, the potatoes fewer, and the carrots smaller. At least they managed to save a portion of the wheat crop they stored in the barn.
“I’ll see if I can find some work in another town,” said Nap, upon observing the sorry cache in the basement.
Lea felt her heart drop; it was now or never. “Why don’t we go see the Red Cross? Cécile told me they were giving away food and clothing.”
“No!” Napoleon’s eyes flashed. “We’re not that poor. I told you I’d find work elsewhere.”
“Yes, but everyone’s looking for work! And there’s none to be had because there are no crops, and no one can afford to hire anyone!”
Napoleon tsked, eyeing her as though he’d been betrayed. “What? You don’t think I can support my family?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” She raised her voice.
“Then what?” His eyes narrowed.
“I’m saying these are tough times and sometimes you have to accept charity.”
“No!” Nap clenched his teeth. “Never!” He turned and left, giving the door a firm slam.
Finding employment proved futile since many hobos rode the rails searching for any job large or small. Lea had seen them in Ponteix, young men, dirty, desperate, huddled around fires, scrounging whatever they could to eat. Nap traveled from town to town, but no one could afford to hire anyone. There was nothing to be had anywhere. The day arrived when he came home with bad news.
Lea watched as he shuffled to the house, his head bent.
She ran to meet him at the door, her heart beating hard in her chest. “What’s wrong?”
Napoleon gave a nonchalant smile, but Lea detected the hidden worry
in his eyes. “Nothing.” He shrugged.
“Napoleon, don’t you lie to me. I know when something’s bothering you. Now, out with it!”
His smile faded, replaced by an expression of discouragement. “We can’t buy the wood we need for winter this year.”
Lea’s breath caught, his words suspended in mid-air, a life sentence. “Then what will we do? We can’t just freeze.”
“Well….” He hesitated. “We can do like the Indians—burn cow and horse dung.”
“Cow and horse dung?” Lea crossed her arms over her chest. “I will not have dung in my house!”
“You don’t have to have it in the house. We’ll make a pile along the wall outside. Once it freezes, it’ll be odourless.”
Lea digested his words. It was true that manure lost its stench if left alone. It was only when one stepped on it that the smell re-emerged, besieging one’s nose like a full-on attack of mustard gas, but she understood they had no choice. “All right,” she said, the hostility in her voice melting away. “We’ll get started today…before the snow arrives.”
After feeding the children a humble lunch, she took them into the pasture, balancing a large basket on one hip, Claire on the other. “Okay, kids,” she said. “We’re going to try something new today.”
“What?” asked Pol.
“We’re going to pick up manure to burn in the stove.”
“But I don’t wanna pick up poop,” Lilian whined.
“You’re not picking up poop. It’s manure. It’s different.”
“But it stinks,” said Lilian.
“Only if it’s soft,” said Lea. “We’ll only pick the hard ones and leave the fresh stuff on the ground, okay?”
“No!” Lilian stamped a foot.
“But we need to if you want to stay warm this winter,” said Lea, her frustration mounting.
Pol bent over and scooped one up. “It’s not so bad. They’re nice and hard. Kind of like bricks. Just don’t mush them up. See?” He flung the dung toward the basket. It landed neatly inside. “And look, it flies if you throw it just right.”
Lilian broke into a smile. “Let me try.” She picked up one of the cow pies and threw it straight into the basket.