Lea took a long drink and nodded in satisfaction. “Not bad.” Turning around, her eyes scanned the house and barnyard. “So where’s the outhouse?”
Nap cleared his throat. “About that…” He gave a sheepish smile. “We’ll just use the barn. After all, if the animals can, why not us?”
Lea giggled. “But what about winter when it’s too cold?”
“I thought about that too.” He walked back to the barn and retrieved a bucket with a lid. “This will be our house toilet. When we’re done, we can put the cover on so it doesn’t smell. But right now, your job is to unpack and start preparing the supper while I get you a chicken.”
Lea laughed, still remembering the hard-learned lesson from their earlier days when she didn’t know how to pluck a bird. How innocent she’d been and how far she’d come in seven years. “I’ll boil the water.”
***
Lea watched from outside the corral as Nap opened the pasture gate, then walked back to the center post he had erected in the middle of the pen. It was horse-breaking day just as it had been last Sunday and the Sunday before. One by one, the horses entered the corral. Old Dick was the last to meander in.
Nap waited, his body flattened against the pole, his rope in hand, until the youngest of the horses, the bay gelding he called Prince, edged closer. Using slow movements so as not to spook the animal, Nap raised his rope, twirled it, and tossed it. The rope landed neatly around the animal’s neck. In one quick swoop, Nap looped the other end of the cord over the post before herding the other horses back into the pasture.
Prince screamed in rage and wedged his heels into the dirt as he tugged the rope. It dug into his neck, threatening to strangle him.
Lea gripped the top rung of the fence.
The horse reared and pawed his hooves in the air, then snaked to the side, throwing out his back hooves. He balked, twisted and turned, pulling the post with all his might. It didn’t budge. Strangled whinnies ripped from his throat. He paused to catch a lungful of air, then began all over again, writhing and zigzagging until a small trickle of blood seeped from his neck. Lea’s knuckles turned white, certain the animal would die. Then, just as quickly as the struggle began, it let out a huff of air and ceased fighting, its energy spent.
Nap took slow steps toward Prince, speaking in a low, soothing voice.
Prince’s crazed eyes stared back. He shuffled to the side.
“You know me, boy. I give you hay each morning. You don’t have to be afraid.” He inched closer, reaching a slow hand out to reveal the oats within, a halter hidden behind his back.
The horse’s lips flapped over Nap’s straightened hand, nervous as he devoured the grain.
Nap withdrew the other arm and, using calculated movements, slipped the halter over the horse’s head.
Prince threw his mane back and shook it while Nap reached up and quickly secured the strap. He pulled out more oats. The horse accepted them, calmer this time.
Taking the lead rope, Nap led Prince around the corral several times, then tied him to the post.
“Okay, it’s your turn now, Old Dick,” he said, addressing the dapple grey who stood waiting patiently just outside the corral. Nap led him to the wagon, attached the harness, then waved to Lea.
Lea glanced down at Baby Lilian, assuring herself the little girl slept comfortably in her basket. Looking back at Pol, she was satisfied he’d keep himself busy shoveling dirt into his bucket for a good while. She stepped into the corral, taking her place before Dick to hold him steady while Napoleon worked at placing the collar on the gelding.
Prince was spooked as Nap lifted the collar, taking quick steps back, his hooves gouging the dirt.
Napoleon slowed his movements, speaking softly as he lifted the collar again. Prince allowed him to approach, his ears flicking. He balked. Lea held Old Dick’s lead as the young gelding dragged her to the left. Again, Nap spoke soothing words, then slid the collar over the horse’s head.
“Good,” whispered Lea.
“Now comes the difficult part,” said Napoleon. “I’m going to attach him to the wagon. So hold on tight.”
Lea braced herself, sliding her hand up the reins beneath Old Dick’s chin and tightening her grip.
Napoleon laid the harness over the horse’s back. Prince bucked, throwing it onto the ground. Nap began again, this time, managing to secure the harness and fastening it to the wagon.
“Okay,” he said in the quietest of voices. “When I say now, let go, then open the gate.” He carefully hoisted himself onto the wagon, then shouted, “Now!”
Lea released Old Dick’s halter and ran.
Prince leapt and off they went. He twisted this way and that while Old Dick continued to trot at a steady pace, obeying the guide of the reins as Nap drove them.
Lea giggled as she watched.
Forty-five minutes later, they returned, the gelding sufficiently calmed down.
Lea clapped her hands. “Well done, mon homme!”
Jumping down from the wagon, Nap grabbed Dick’s reins and handed them to Lea. She held Old Dick steady while he unharnessed both horses. Prince cantered furiously away, kicking dust back at them as though he’d been gravely insulted.
“Now I have enough horses broken to clear more land.”
The next day, Nap hooked them up to the wagon while Lea held Old Dick. After Prince had settled down, she followed them out to the field, carrying Lilian in her basket and leading Pol by the hand. When they reached the patch of land they were to clear, she placed the children in the shade of the cart, then set to work with Nap to remove the stones necessary to plow the land.
Lea reached into the wagon and took out one of the picks. Spying a stone, she dug it out. She proceeded to find others the same size, piling them as she worked. When she’d made a sufficiently large stack, she loaded them onto the wagon.
“Lea,” Nap called her after an hour had gone by. “Come and help me with this one.”
She walked over to where Napoleon struggled with a massive stone.
“I’ve managed to dig underneath it, but when I try to hoist it up, it collapses back into the hole. I’m going to raise it up again, and when I do, I want you to toss some of the smaller stones underneath so it can’t fall back in.”
“Okay.” Lea sauntered back to the wagon, loaded up some of the smaller rocks, and carried them back in her skirt.
“Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three.” He lodged the crowbar underneath and heaved it up.
She dropped the stones down the hole. The rock landed higher than it had before. Going back to her pile, she loaded her skirt again.
“All right. One, two, three.”
She threw more stones under the large rock. It stood taller.
“Okay, I think this is it. One more try and I should be able to get it out.” Taking the tool, Nap pushed with all his might. The stone rose higher and higher. “Almost there!” Nap gave the crowbar a final shove.
A loud scrape ripped the air.
Lea watched in horror as the crowbar catapulted out of the hole and struck Nap in the forehead. He let out a cry and rolled on the ground, clutching his head in anguish. Blood gushed from the wound.
“Nap!”
Visions of the battlefield assailed her—the young man whose skull had been partially blown away, still alive. Lea’s breath came in gasps. Frantically turning about, she scoured the horizon for someone, anyone, to help. No paramedics ran to her aid. Only empty fields stretched out before her.
“What should I do?” she screamed.
“Tear your skirt and make a bandage! Quick!”
Of course. She knew that. How often had she bound wounds on the battlefield? Swallowing her panic, she reached down and made a small rip in her skirt. Yanking it, she pulled back a strip long enough to fit around his head. She knelt beside him, first applying pressure until the bleeding slowed, then wrapping the makeshift bandage around the wound.
Napoleon sat up, catching his breath. He t
ook her hand, then gave her a rueful smile. “I think we’re done for the day. What do you think?”
“Agreed. Let’s go home. This needs cleaning.”
“Okay, but only because you say so.”
She shot him a disgruntled frown.
Lea left the tools where they lay, loaded the children and Nap onto the wagon, and drove the team home. She removed the harness when they arrived, releasing the horses into the pasture and hanging the tack in the barn. Prince stared back at her, mischief in his eyes.
“Don’t even try anything on me,” she said in a low voice as she scowled back at the gelding.
Chapter Fifteen
The Card Game
Lea led the Jersey to the barn, tied her to one of the posts and hobbled her hind legs, making sure the straps were tight. The animal let out a protesting moo. Reaching into the corner, Lea grabbed the bucket and placed it underneath the cow’s udder. She felt behind for the handle of the three-legged stool and set it down on the left side of the cow. Making herself comfortable, she began milking. The smell of fresh cream filled the air.
“That’s a good girl, Jersey. Feels nice, doesn’t it? And we’ll enjoy your milk. We’ll make cheese with it and all kinds of other delicious things. You’re such a good cow.” She broke into a melody, humming as she worked, its rhythm in sync with the squirting sounds as the milk splashed into the metal bucket. When the cow’s udder was empty, she took the liquid, filled a long canister, and walked to the well where she lowered it down the shaft so it would stay cool despite the sweltering, summer Saskatchewan heat. Then she removed the hobbles from the Jersey’s hind legs and released her into the pasture.
As the cow sauntered away, Lea turned her attention to the garden she’d planted. How well it was doing! Carrot tops, like green lace, pushed up from the soil. Wide leaves hid potatoes that grew beneath them. Tall stalks rose from onion bulbs. Green sorrel leaves promised a delicious winter soup. And her tomatoes were so plentiful that she had to can every third day to keep up. She was glad red buffalo berries grew nearby so she could pick them with Pol, thus allowing her more time to make jam. Already there were two dozen jars stacked on the shelves in the basement. She looked forward to the frost that would sweeten the remaining berries on the bush.
It had been an excellent summer, despite the overbearing heat and mosquitoes—even Lilian was covered in welts despite Lea’s care to keep her chubby limbs concealed. The crops had yielded forty bushels to the acre, and the cellar would soon be full once she’d harvested all that grew in the garden. But there was still so much to do before the chill of winter set in. They’d have to buy wood to keep the stove burning. And because of the bumper crop, they needed a dry place to store the wheat until it could be sold.
Lea’s glance shifted to the side of the house where Nap pounded shiplap on the frame of the new lean-to he’d decided to build to store the grain. Perhaps next year, they’d have so much wheat they’d have to take it to the elevators in town. She loved the way Nap’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth every time he pounded his hammer. Her heart swelled at his skills both as a farmer and a carpenter. He’d already made the decision to build houses over the winter to tide the family over until the following year. And with the breaking of more land, she was that much closer to her dream of going home to Belgium. How thrilled Maman would be, though surely, she’d notice the rough callouses on Lea’s hands from the hard work. And how wonderful to see Palma and her little family and to meet Mathilde’s new husband, Amadori, even though her sister didn’t seem so enthused about him in the letters she’d written. She was pleased Camille had married and wondered how François fared with his damaged hand.
“Lea!” Napoleon motioned her over. “Come here. I have news for you.”
“What?” she asked, walking toward him.
“You know that new guy who’s just settled a mile south of us?”
“Bourlon? Yes, what about him?” He had stopped by earlier, leaned up against the Maxwell while chatting with Nap for a brief time before continuing on his way.
“Says he’s building himself a blacksmith shop, so we won’t have to go to town anymore to shoe the horses. And he said he heard there were more homesteaders coming. Soon we’ll have so many neighbours we won’t know what to do with them all.”
“That’s wonderful!” Lea said, hoping they’d be French.
“And speaking of which, there’s a card social in Val Marie this Saturday night. They’ve asked that we perform.”
Lea smiled. She quite enjoyed the evenings in town, especially when they requested her to sing. It gave her a chance to feel important, like the old Lea of days gone by, before the children, before the farm.
When Saturday evening arrived, they packed up the family in the Maxwell and headed to Val Marie. Lilian cooed from her basket while Pol sat up, staring out the window. Excitement filled Lea. It would be so good to be around other women after a summer of canning and cooking for the coarse men Nap had hired to help with the harvest. She marveled at the golden fields as they drove past. Acres and acres of amber stalks blew lazily in the breeze between the farm and town. They were just as beautiful as Nap had described to her back in Belgium. She wished she could take a photo to send home, but the black and white prints would never reveal the true colours.
When they rolled up to the church hall, Lea bent down to grab the sandwiches she’d made as her contribution to the evening, and the plate of her well-known galettes, small, extra-sweet waffles.
“I’ll take those,” said Napoleon as he came around the Maxwell.
Lea handed him the sandwiches, balancing the plate of pastries on top.
“No dipping into the galettes,” she said, casting him a wary eye.
Napoleon flashed her a mischievous grin, making as though he’d pick one up in his mouth.
A woman gave an exuberant wave at Lea as she lifted Lilian from the dusty automobile.
It was Cécile. Grabbing Pol’s hand, she hurried to her friend and threw her arms about her. “Cécile! I’m so glad you finally got your homestead in Val Marie. Now we’ll get to see each other every week in church.”
“Me too.” They exchanged salutational pecks on the cheeks.
“So this is the new baby!” said Cécile.
“Yes.”
“Oh, she’s so cute.”
“Thank you,” said Lea. “And she’s very good too. She hardly ever cries.”
The two women fussed over Lilian who smiled and squealed back at them, putting on her own little show. Lea stretched her neck, scanning. “Where’s Claude?”
Cécile’s face darkened. “He’s over there with some guys he met in town.”
Lea’s gaze wandered to where a loud group of men smoked and guffawed. The Proux boys! Her teeth clenched. They were known for bar brawls and other rude behavior. Rumour had it that one of them had even spent time in prison, plus one of the older girls had born a child out of wedlock.
“They’re going to play poker tonight, and they’ve asked that Claude join them.”
“Well, it is a card evening, and I’m sure they won’t try to gamble in front of Père Fortier.”
“No. They’ll just disappear and play in someone’s basement,” said Cécile, a sarcastic tone in her voice. “I just hate it.” She shook her head. “I mean, we finally get our homestead, and he has to go and risk gambling all our savings away.”
“Oh, Cécile, I’m so sorry.”
Her friend let out a sigh. “It’s my own fault. I was a bit too quick in marrying him. I should have gotten to know him better.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Cécile squirmed before answering. “Well, harvest season was over, and he was going to leave. And he said if I didn’t marry him that night that there were plenty of other farm girls to choose from.”
“That’s dreadful!” Lea threw a disgusted look back at Claude.
Cécile pressed her lips together in a tight line. “I can’t stand the way he goes to to
wn and comes back drunk. How can we raise a family or even start one?”
“Perhaps I can get Nap to talk to him.” Lea laid a reassuring hand on her arm.
“That’d be wonderful if you could, but in the meantime, come and sit with us. Maman and Papa are here helping us set up house.”
“They are? Then let’s go.”
The two ladies linked arms and stepped inside the hall. Pol trailed after them.
Lea spied Napoleon placing the galettes and sandwiches on the long table at the back. Other men surrounded him, exchanging humorous stories, slapping backs, and laughing.
“Mom and Dad are over there.” Cécile pointed to the edge of the hall where the Gilberts sat, the seats near them beginning to fill.
When they had made their way to the table, Madame Gilbert stood up. “Lea! So good to see you! My goodness, look how much Pol has grown!”
“I know.”
“And this must be Lilian.” She bent over to admire the baby.
“Yes, it is.”
“What a beautiful little girl.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s too bad Cécile and Claude haven’t had any yet.” The furrow between her brows deepened. “But what can you expect when he’s hardly ever home?”
“Maman,” Cécile warned.
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? Where is he now? No doubt hanging out with his new cronies.” She tipped her chin in the direction of the door where bright light filtered in.
“Never mind. Let’s just have a good time tonight, all right?” said Cécile
Madame Gilbert sniffed. “All right, then.”
The tables were nearly full when Père Fortier stood up to say the blessing. The people rose too, bowing their heads as he prayed. When his last words trailed away, they formed a long line to the buffet.
Lea scooped out a generous portion of sandwiches along with fresh potato salad and fèves au lard—enough to feed herself and Pol. When she reached the galettes, her mouth turned up in a satisfied grin to see the entire plate empty. She made a mental note to bring more the next time.
Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies Page 12