by Larry Stuart
‘You didn’t think we’d go to church in that old buckboard, did you?’ chuckled John
The local church was Catholic, but its service was fairly similar to the Scottish, Presbyterian form of prayer, so the newcomers did not feel completely out of place. After the service, the parishioners stood around in small groups passing the time of day. If it hadn’t sunk in before, then Cameron and Mary were now left in no doubt that the whole community’s life revolved around the seasons. The men mainly talked about which crops seemed to be coming on best, and what price a bushel of spring wheat would probably fetch at the market in two weeks’ time; whereas the women gathered in two small groups: in one passing tips back and forth about new methods for filtering water to increase their yield of lye for soap making, whilst in the other one woman excitedly passed on the rumours she’d heard about a new type of clothes wringer, which apparently could be fitted to their washing barrels and significantly reduce their hardship.
The weather did co-operate, and an hour after church they approached the small village of Noyan, a few miles south of Lacolle.
The first plot that John had recommended was just east of the village, alongside a small stream emptying into the Richelieu River. A minor road ran parallel to the river; and ten minutes after passing through the village, they reached the spot where a bridge crossed over the small stream.
Cameron helped the ladies down, while John tied off Blackie’s bridle on the branch of a nearby elm tree.
‘Come on…let’s see if there’s any kind of path or animal trail around here which might give us an easy way up. I’m sure we’ll get the best view from up there,’ said John, while crossing the road and pointing towards the top of a grassy hill in the distance.
When they finally reached the summit, they were all puffing a little. Cameron and Mary were both bent over at the waist, their hands resting on their knees. Neither was yet accustomed to such a vigorous life, and after they’d recovered, Cameron took Mary aside, quietly talking to her for a few minutes before once more re-joining John and Margaret.
The land surrounding them looked perfect to Cameron, but he now knew better than to voice any opinion until John had made up his mind. In the meantime, Margaret grasped Mary’s arm and the two wandered off, animatedly talking and pointing at places where a house would be perfect, and where a garden would be protected from the wind. John slowly wandered about at the crest of the hill, checking on the land’s access to water and its suitability for buildings and roads. Having spent more than an hour marching here and there, and bending over to check the grass and type of soil, John’s only comment was, ‘we’ll see’.
As the sun passed its zenith, all four lay stretched-out on a blanket beside the river, enjoying the warm spring weather. The location was idyllic, and for the time being everyone seemed to be absorbed, watching the fluttering butterflies in the meadow beside them and gazing at the small fish leaping for their lunch – or possibly leaping to not become lunch – at the junction of the stream and the fast flowing river.
The few remaining titbits had already been packed away, and in the end it was John who suggested doing the same with the home-brewed cider before the rest of the day was a total loss. Cameron rolled over on his side, winking at Mary, while the other two looked on with quizzical expressions on their faces.
‘Mary and I have something to tell you. I suppose we should have mentioned it before…but…well anyway, now’s as good a time as any.’
Mary had wanted to put off the announcement, because only last week Margaret had told her the harrowing story of her life with Peter, and the loss of her baby; and as if that wasn’t bad enough, it emerged that she would never again be able to have a child. However, Mary knew her body would soon reveal her condition, so silence was no longer an option.
With a suitably long pause to allow Margaret and John’s minds to conjure up all manner of shocking developments, Cameron continued.
‘You two are goin’ to become an Aunt and Uncle!’
The Monday morning chorus came all too soon, especially as more cider had been uncorked Sunday evening to celebrate the Stuarts’ forthcoming arrival. Margaret and John had been really excited, and insisted on spending the evening toasting every notion that entered their well-lubricated minds. At times during the evening, Margaret’s eyes took on a far-away look, but then within minutes, her self-assured character took over once more and she re-joined the party with gusto.
Cameron’s head pounded as he entered the kitchen. And even the habitually cheerful Margaret seemed somewhat subdued, murmuring a much quieter ‘good morning’ than was usual. Cameron grunted in reply, before sitting at the table to cradle his mug of tea. Five minutes later Mary entered the kitchen, and with a bright and cheery ‘hello’ joined the others.
‘You shouldn’t be down here yet. Nothing is so important that you need to get out of bed so early,’ protested Margaret.
‘Oh, come on, Margaret. I only be havin’ a baby…no dyin’ from some terrible
disease. I’m able to do ma jobs around here…just like everybody else.’
Arguably, the farm wife’s most onerous tasks took place each Monday and Tuesday. Washing was first, and its steps were many: water had to be drawn from the well and then heated on the stove, after which it was poured into a wooden tub; clothes and lye were then added before agitating it with a five pronged piece of wood known as a dolly stick; more buckets of water followed, until all the lye was rinsed from the clothes, and then finally, all items were wrung out by hand before being hung out to dry.
Mondays were bad, but Tuesday just compounded the torment as it was the day normally reserved for ironing. Although irons were relatively small, they were extremely heavy, and had to be continually re-heated on the stovetop. This job again took nearly all day, by the end of which most women were exhausted.
Of course, the saving grace for Cameron and Mary was that they were afforded a gentle introduction into this way of life. Living with Cameron’s sister not only allowed them to learn how to run a farm, but at the same time absolved them from having to find a roof for their heads and food for their bellies.
Both were pleasantly surprised by the quantity and variety of food they ate on the farm. There never seemed to be a shortage of vegetables, and meat was in abundance. Biscuits, cakes and bread were also a staple in their diets, one or more of these being cooked every day. Of course, all of this cooking required a ready supply of wood for the ovens, and Mary soon learned that the hard work of hauling wood to keep the fires going was another of the women’s jobs.
Cameron had never worked so hard in his life. Harvesting the spring wheat was immediately followed by ploughing the fields to prepare them for a summer crop. In the past, John had always done this by himself, but with the extra help, he was now able to plant more crops and look forward to a larger income if the harvest was good.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The land they had chosen was the second plot they looked at on that Sunday. Cameron had gone to Lacolle the following day to register the plot, and at the same time had put down their names for seventy adjoining acres.
Both properties had been on similar types of rolling countryside, and both had comparable access to water and roads. But the second property had one main advantage. The section of forest attached to the land was larger and on its western side, thereby providing better shelter from the prevailing wind – this being particularly important when the snow-laden winds of winter blew for weeks at a time.
From the day of registration onwards, the only topic of discussion became the Stuarts’ new property. Hours were spent discussing everyone’s ideas and making countless drawings of the house and its outbuildings. The pros and cons of various crops were endlessly considered, until a final decision was made and an outline map drawn up separating the acreages into workable fields. By the end of the summer only one major decision was left, namely the size and type of farmhouse. Of course, the Stuarts would love to have built as near a repli
ca of John and Margaret’s house as possible. But in the end common sense prevailed, and a single storey log house was agreed upon.
‘Listen, Cameron. I know it’s not what you two really want, but for now it will be fine. Look at the advantages. They’re easy to build and you’ve got all the wood you’ll need on your own land. Also, because they’re a simple design, you and Mary can have the interior layout any way you like. And besides…after a couple of decent harvests, you should have all the money you’ll need to build whatever you like, and will still have somewhere to live while your new house is being built.’
During their spare time, Mary and Margaret threw all their enthusiasm into designing the interior of the new home. Cameron was more than happy to let the girls get on with it, especially as Mary needed something to help occupy her mind. She was now finding it more and more difficult to help with some of the more physical work, and “matron” Margaret was seriously beginning to restrict Mary’s jobs.
Cameron lay with his head propped up against two pillows, desperately trying to keep his eyes open as Mary exuberantly explained the layout she and Margaret had come up with.
‘We think the baby’s room can be just there,’ she said, pointing to a spot on the paper. ‘And our room will be right next door. The fire in the stove will be burnin’ all night in the winter, so I’ll have a chair over there…and that way I’ll be warm when I’m feedin’ the baby.’
‘’Tis a great idea,’ Cameron mumbled, trying to put on his best “that’s really interesting” look on his face. ‘Do you know somethin’?’
‘What?’
‘You look even more beautiful now than when we first met.’
‘No, I don’t. I’m fat and horrible…and besides…I hate you,’ she replied, playfully hitting him with a balled up fist. ‘You’re no payin’ any attention to what I be showin’ you, are you?’
‘Of course I am.’
After saying that, he picked up the papers and threw them on the floor, then placed his right hand on her shoulder, forcing her back onto the pillow. Just as she was about to rebuke him he leaned forward, placing his mouth over hers.
As he ran his tongue over her lips, she began to sigh, so he eased his hand into the bodice of her nightdress.
‘Don’t you be gettin’ any funny ideas,’ Mary whispered, pushing him away. ‘They be right through that wall and can hear every noise we make.’
‘All right, I know,’ he said, rolling back onto his side of the bed. ‘I guess I’ll just have to ravish you outside one of these days…when nobody’s lookin’.’
The autumn came, and with it arrived the most hectic time of the year. John kept a wary eye on the weather as a judgement had to be made about when to begin the harvest.
One morning, when Cameron entered the kitchen for his morning cup of tea, he sensed something was unusual.
‘What is it? Has something happened?’
‘Nope…everything’s fine,’ replied John. ‘But when you’re finished that tea we’re starting the harvest. The wind has changed…and I’m pretty sure rain will be here by the end of the week.’
The next three days were like nothing Cameron had ever witnessed, and he and John worked non-stop from sunrise to sunset. The women brought out breakfast, dinner, supper and drinks to whichever field they were working in. And as the light began to fade, the men brought in and fed the animals, before returning to the house for a quick meal and then going to bed. The job was backbreaking for both men and animals; the routine continuing until just before sunset on day three when the task was finally completed. Two exhausted men staggered into the kitchen, collapsing into chairs at the kitchen table.
‘Well, I’m glad that be over,’ Cameron remarked.
‘Kind of....’
Cameron looked over at John, his eyebrows raised inquisitively.
‘Well, we’re finished here, Cameron…but I told some of our neighbours we’d give them a hand once we were done. You see, I knew we’d get our harvest in first, because most of our friends are on their own. And I was sure you wouldn’t mind helping them once we were finished, seeing as how they’re the ones who’ll be helping us to build your house and barns this winter.’
The farmers living in the Eastern Townships were lucky that year. The rain held off for two more days, allowing all of them to get in their harvests; and with the ever increasing population in Canada, creating an ever burgeoning demand, the price of all produce was high.
I guess this is a profitable occupation, Cameron thought, after returning from the market with John one day. But you sure do have to work to make it pay.
Once John’s fields had been turned over in preparation for winter, and all their winter vegetables had been put away in the cold cellar, work was finally switched to Cameron and Mary’s new property. John borrowed a straight-faced plough from one of his neighbours, and with this implement attached to his ox, the first task of creating access into the property began. Within a week, a lane had been cut in and the property staked out for the house and buildings. Another road was then excavated towards the forest, great care being taken in its construction as it would be the most frequently travelled track over the next year. And then finally, the area was levelled where the buildings were to be sited.
By the time they completed the last of the groundwork, the days were getting noticeably shorter. The beautiful autumn festival of colour was now over, and according to John early morning frosts would soon be upon them. The ox had already been returned to John’s pasture, and work now switched to the gruelling toil of felling trees.
One late November afternoon, the sun was nearly down when Cameron and John arrived back from the new homestead.
‘I’ll put Blackie away…I’ve still got a few things to do in the barn,’ said John, removing the wagon’s harness and leading the horse towards the stable.
‘All right…I’ll be seein’ if the girls need a hand with anythin’ inside.’
Cameron headed for the house and on opening the back door the first thing he saw was Mary slumped over the kitchen table.
Slamming the door, he hurried across the kitchen, quickly dropping to one knee and putting his arm around her.
‘Mary…Mary, what is it? Are you sick?’
Mary slowly raised her head, greeting Cameron with a weak and sickly smile.
‘I’m all right…I’m just a wee bit tired.’
At that point Margaret arrived in the kitchen carrying a huge pile of clothes.
‘What’s going on here? Mary, you look dreadful…Come on, Cameron, let’s get her up to bed, then I’m going for the doctor. And, Mary…before you even think about it…I don’t want to hear any of this ‘I’m fine’ nonsense.’
Later that night, the three of them sat in the front room with looks of impending doom on their faces. After what seemed like ages, the clumping of boots could be heard descending the stairs, and they all looked up expectantly.
‘You can all stop looking like there’s been some death in the family,’ said Dr. Fitzpatrick. ‘Mrs Stuart’s going to be fine. She’s just a bit tired…and needs to take it a bit easier…especially as there’s only a few weeks to go now. I’ll stop by again tomorrow to check up on her.’
Then, as he put on his coat and prepared to leave, he turned to Cameron.
‘Oh, and if you want to see her, Mr Stuart, you best hurry as I’ve given her something to help her sleep.’
Once they’d all thanked the doctor and said goodbye, Cameron bounded up the
stairs.
‘Are you okay, Mary? You’ve had us all worried, you know?’
She was obviously very groggy, and as Cameron leaned forward to kiss her cheek, she began to mumble.
‘I’m s…sorry Cameron. I’ve got somethin’ to tell….’
She never finished before falling asleep. Cameron kissed her on the forehead before pulling the covers up to her chin. Then, blowing out the candle, he quietly crept from the room.
The following morning, Mary aw
oke bright and cheerful, obviously feeling few ill-effects from the night before. As they relaxed in bed, she gaily chatted to Cameron, grilling him about the progress of their new home, while at the same time carefully avoiding any reference to the night before.
Over the next few weeks a new routine was established, and much to Mary’s disgust, her role had been reduced to an absolute minimum. All the morning chores were now completed by the other three, before the men set off for the new farm. Cameron and John would then arrive back well before sunset, to carry out the afternoon milking and settle the animals down for the night. Margaret now took care of nearly all the household chores, ensuring that Mary did very little. She was allowed to help with the cooking and baking, but only after first promising she would have an hour’s rest during the afternoon.