Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies

by de Montigny, Suzanne;

Nap halted the horses, then handed the reins to Lea. He leapt into the back where he swatted and stamped at the insects, wincing as they crunched under his feet, their yellow blood spattering the wood.

  Lea threw her arms around the girls, consoling them as they sobbed. “It’s okay. They’re just grasshoppers, that’s all. They’re not poisonous.”

  “But they’re in my clothes!” shouted Pol, pulling off his shirt and swatting at himself.

  “In mine too!” screamed Lilian.

  Lea undid the buttons of Lilian’s dress and jiggled the garment until all the grasshoppers slid out. She did the same with Claire. Checking, Denis, she was relieved to see she’d been able to protect him from the bugs.

  “Let’s go home,” she said.

  Nap shook the reins, but as they neared the farm, Lea’s spirit sunk lower and lower. “It’s all gone!” she said. “Everything! They ate the little bit of wheat there was.”

  “It’s like the plague in the Bible,” said Pol. “Like the locusts.”

  Nap stared in disbelief, then did a hurried sign of the cross.

  They traveled onward, the horses settling, until they came to the two hills that marked the entrance of the farm. Lea felt empty as she stared at their wheat fields where only stubble now lay, but when they got to within view of her garden, she burst into tears.

  “Is there no end to this?” she asked. Handing Denis to Nap, she jumped down from the wagon and ran to where the plants had been growing. She bent down and dug her fingers through the dirt, feeling for the stems of what had been a flourishing garden. “I can’t take anymore of this!” She raised her voice. “Why do we even go to church? Why?” She threw her face into her hands and cried, the dirt from the patch mixing with her tears. “God doesn’t care!”

  “Lea!” shouted Nap. “Stop it!”

  “How are we supposed to feed our family now?” She was hysterical.

  “Maman!” shouted Pol. “Stop crying. We’ll find a way.”

  Lea threw herself down on the ground and sobbed. When her tears had nearly spent themselves, she looked up to see her children cowering inside the wagon, terrified. Forcing herself to regain control for their sake, she wiped her muddied eyes, then walked to the wagon and helped them down.

  When the children seemed calmer, she turned to Nap and hissed, “Now will you get relief from the government?”

  Nap nodded, his lips trembling as a small tear rolled down his cheek.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Relief and Catastrophe

  Nap ate his breakfast in silence the next morning as though something weighed on his mind, barely answering the good-natured questions of his children. After eating only a portion of his meal, he left the table and put on his coat and boots. He strode to the barn and came out a short while later mounted on Prince, his hat tipped forward. But instead of spurring the animal into a trot as he usually did, he walked the gelding at a slow pace. A few hours later, he returned, his face etched in a frustration so deep it was impossible to contain. Lea knew immediately what had happened—he’d been to town to apply for relief.

  “Watch Claire and Denis,” she said to Lilian. Hurrying out the door, she met Nap as he led the horse into the barn. “What happened?” she asked, out of breath.

  Napoleon stopped and shook his head. “They were so unfair.”

  Lea gave an anxious glance back at the house. “What do you mean unfair?”

  “They didn’t think we were poor enough,” he said, placing the horse in its stall.

  “Not poor enough? Did you tell them our crop was destroyed by grasshoppers?”

  Napoleon nodded.

  “And that we have nothing, absolutely nothing to feed the livestock?”

  He nodded again.

  “Then what?” Her voice rose to a frantic pitch.

  Napoleon hesitated before speaking. “They said our children were too well-dressed.”

  “What? But I’m making their clothes from sacks, for heaven’s sake!”

  “I know.” He looked defeated. “But apparently the guy saw you in town on Sunday with the kids when you had them all dressed up for church and decided we couldn’t possibly be that badly off.”

  “So aren’t they giving us anything?”

  Napoleon sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Twelve measly dollars a month.”

  Lea’s upper lip rose. “Twelve? How are we supposed to feed a family of six plus our livestock with just that?”

  “Well,” he said, “the twelve dollars is for groceries…for us...but we’re not allowed to spend it on anything else.”

  “But what about the animals?”

  “They said we could get feed from the government, but that eventually, we have to pay it back.”

  Lea let out a sarcastic huff. “And just how are we going to do that?”

  Nap reached for her hand and held it firm in his grip. “I don’t know, but it’s a start. At least we’ll have food for the family.” His eyes begged her to agree.

  “But what about winter clothes? Pol’s growing like a weed.”

  He glanced away. “We’ll have to apply to the Red Cross again.”

  Lea’s voice softened. “Well, that’s not so bad.”

  “I guess not.” He shrugged. “And I thought…” Napoleon paused, “that perhaps you could teach me how to repair shoes like your father did. That way we could keep patching our shoes and boots.”

  Lea let out a resigned chuckle. “If that’s what it takes.”

  Nap’s eyes darted to the house and back. “But in the meantime, I don’t want the children to know about this.”

  Lea hesitated before answering. “Okay.”

  “I mean ever! I don’t want them ever to know we had to apply for relief as long as they live.”

  Lea held his gaze before answering, “I promise,” uncertain how she’d keep the information from ten-year-old Pol’s sharp eyes.

  It was humiliating the next day when Lea took the wagon to Erwin’s store where she handed the slip of paper from the government that informed the manager, Mr. Eickenberry, of their shame. But he filled out the order as though it were any other, his face expressionless. A few days later, when Nap came in looking for nails, Mr. Eikenberry wrote ‘beans’ on the receipt, since government officials regularly checked to be sure only food was bought with the money.

  When Nap brought the nails home, he announced to Lea that it was time they extended their house.

  “How?” she asked. “We have no money for lumber.”

  “The lean-to,” he said. “It’s not filled with wheat, so we might as well make our bedroom out of it. I can take some of the lumber off the barn if I need to.”

  Lea smiled at the idea—a place to call her own in their overcrowded cabin! Well, hers and Nap’s, anyway. Like when they lived at the Gilberts’. Oh, how she relished the sweet memories of long ago.

  For the next few days, Nap kept busy constructing the new room. First, he cut out a rectangle for the door and used the wood to build the frame that surrounded the opening. For the flooring, he laid down the leftover battleship linoleum he’d used when he’d built the cabin.

  Lea grew excited about the project and added to it. Using leftover paint, she coated the entire floor of the house grey, then dipped a sponge into a different colour to form designs. But she didn’t stop there. She soaked old gunnysacks she’d found in the barn in glue she’d made from flour and water and applied them to the bottom half of the walls. Then she got Nap to nail a one-and-a-half inch strip of wood horizontally to cover the edges of the sacks and help fasten them to the wall.

  The day she finished, she stood back, admiring her work with satisfaction. “That looks so much better. More like a home than a shack. And especially with our new bedroom!”

  “I’m sorry. I know I promised you a much bigger house,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist. “But it’s better than nothing, right?”

  Lea broke into a whimsical smile. “Do you know what I’d rather have than a
big house?”

  “No what?”

  “An outhouse. I’m so tired of the bucket. It stinks, and Pol doesn’t want to empty it anymore.”

  Napoleon threw his head back in laughter. “Now, that I can do.”

  “How?”

  “I have my ways.”

  For the next few days, Nap dug black clay from a hole near the slough. He mixed it with straw and water, stomping it with his bare feet, his pant legs rolled up. When it was the right consistency, he shoveled it into a bucket and carried it to the hole he’d already dug in the ground, then began to build his wall.

  “Papa’s playing in the mud,” said Claire. “Can I play in the mud too?”

  “No, Claire,” said Lea. “You know we don’t have enough water to give you a bath.” She thought of how they had to re-use water over and over, first scrubbing the dishes, washing the children, and then the floor.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Lilian.

  “He’s building us an outhouse so we won’t have to smell that stinky bucket anymore.”

  “But won’t his wall fall over?” asked Pol.

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” she said, casting him a mischievous glance.

  At thirty inches from the ground, Napoleon added the toilet seat, then continued the construction of his wall, his family watching with great curiosity. When the structure was tall enough, he allowed it a few days to dry before adding a wooden roof and door made from barn lumber. Then he patched the hole in the barn using the same gumbo mix.

  The day it was finally ready for use was celebrated as a great event. Nap ceremoniously tossed the hated bucket into the barn, and asked, “Who wants to be the first to try out the new outhouse?”

  “Me!” shouted Lilian and Pol at the same time.

  “No, me,” said Claire.

  Nap’s gaze swept over his family before he spoke. “Okay, since this is such an important occasion, I choose Maman!”

  Lea let out an exuberant laugh. “All right, then.” She handed Denis to Nap.

  Stepping inside, she closed the door and latched it. An old Eaton’s Catalogue lay beside the seat, a substitute for the toilet paper they couldn’t afford.

  “I feel like a queen,” she called after she’d sat down, relieved the seat didn’t crumble beneath her.

  Giggles from outside met her words.

  When she was done, she opened the door to enthusiastic stares.

  “Well?” asked Pol.

  “What an experience!” said Lea.

  “My turn,” said Pol, running in before anyone else had the chance.

  “No, me!” Lilian reached the door just as it slammed in her face. “Hey!”

  “You’ll be next, Lilian. Then Papa, then….” Lea stopped when she saw her youngest daughter doing her business in the dirt instead. She sighed. “Oh, Claire.”

  When they’d all had a turn, Pol stood up beside the outhouse and announced, “Today is a great day for anyone who has to go to the bathroom on the de Montigny homestead. This timely structure was constructed by none other than the great Napoleon de Montigny. You’ve all heard of Napoleon Bonaparte, the great builder of the French Empire? Well, now there’s Napoleon de Montigny, the great builder of outhouses.” He turned and faced the new structure. “I christen it ‘The Peehouse’.”

  Lea threw him a warning look. “Pol!”

  “Well, it is,” he said, turning pink.

  “Never mind,” said Lea. “We’ll call it the outhouse.”

  “Aw, shucks,” said Pol.

  For days afterward, the children visited the new facilities every chance they had, convinced they were living in luxury though they were dirt poor—until the days grew colder and it wasn’t so convenient anymore.

  ***

  It was autumn when Lea stepped outside to bring dung into the house and noticed the telling crispness in the air. She knew that feel—snow—and that she needed to take the Pol and Lilian to the Red Cross to choose clothing for the winter.

  They spent as little time as possible in the church basement, picking out used jackets, sweaters, and pants for the two children. Lea was careful to make sure their coats were a least a size larger than what they normally wore. Searching for boots, she found a pair for Lilian, but had to dig for quite some time before finding anything for Pol.

  “How about these ones?” she asked him.

  “No. Those are ladies’ boots,” he said. “I refuse to wear those.”

  “But there’s nothing else that’ll fit you. What are we going to do?” she asked, frustration threatening to rise.

  “I don’t know.” He curled his lip up in rebellion.

  “Maybe we could disguise them somehow. Add something to them,” suggested Lea.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. We could change the soles. Just try them on, okay.”

  Pol let out a huff. “Okay.”

  He took them to the most obscure part of the basement, slipped his feet in, and gave her the nod, then left hurriedly, leaving Lea to retrieve the boots herself. She found him later, cowering behind the church when she came out with the other children.

  When they got home, Lea shoved the clothes away in the wardrobe, all except Pol’s boots. Eyeing them, she calculated how she could disguise them. They really were rather dainty.

  “Go get me your old boots,” she said.

  “Okay.” Pol opened the closet door and dug inside until he found them and handed them to her.

  “Let’s see,” said Lea, measuring the bottoms one against the other. “We could take the soles off of this pair and glue them onto the other ones. That would give them a more rugged look.”

  Pol nodded, appearing terribly worried. “Okay.”

  “And then we could change the colour to brown.”

  He gave another reluctant nod.

  Lea got to work, first removing the soles from the old boots, then gluing them to the new ones. She added straps from the worn pair to the tops of the other. It was difficult work pushing the needle into the thin leather without her father’s equipment, but she persevered. Next, she took out the brown shoe polish and shone them, but when she stood back, she noted the black was still visible underneath. Maintaining a positive stance, she waved Pol over.

  “Well? What do you think? Here, try them on so I can see what they look like.”

  His face miserable, Pol bent down and laced them up.

  Lea did everything she could to hide the dissatisfaction of her work. It was obvious they were completely refurbished, but she couldn’t let Pol know her true feelings, so she faked a smile. “They look great! No one will ever guess.”

  Pol let out a despondent sigh. “Yes, they will.”

  “Can you fix my boots too?” asked Lilian.

  “No, sweetie,” said Lea, again maintaining the same false grin. “Yours are just fine. Besides, I have to make supper.”

  The next day, Pol came home in a snit, throwing the hated boots into the closet.

  “What happened?” asked Lea.

  “It didn’t fool them in the least. I kept my pant legs down as low as possible, but when I sat in class at my stupid orange desk, my pant legs rose. And that’s when one of the older boys shouted, ‘Oh, my God! Hey, everyone, Pol’s got girl’s boots.’ And the whole class started to laugh.”

  “What did you do?” asked Lea.

  “Well, I was gonna punch someone, but then I remembered I wasn’t supposed to. And I didn’t have to because the teacher yelled at them anyhow.”

  “Well at least he did that,” said Lea, relieved someone had stuck up for her son.

  “And what about you?” she asked, turning to Lilian. “Did anyone laugh at your boots?”

  “No,” said Lea. “Another girl has the same kind. Now all the girls want them.”

  Lea gave her eyes a giant roll and slapped her forehead in disbelief.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Bull

  It was a cold November day when a visitor
wandered onto their property. Frost lay thick on the ground, and the air had a bite to it.

  “We have company,” said Pol, staring out the window.

  “Who?” asked Lea, stirring a pot of hot oatmeal.

  “The neighbour’s bull—the really mean one.”

  “Oh, no.” Lea pushed the porridge to the back burner and hurried to the window. She knew how dangerous males of the species could be, charging humans who dared pass through their territory, even when it wasn’t theirs. “Maybe he’s just hanging out hoping to have a rendez-vous with Rose. Perhaps he wants to take her dancing in town.”

  Lilian giggled from her place at the table.

  “Nap, go chase him away,” Lea said.

  “Sure, as soon as I have my oatmeal.” He ladled some of the mush into a bowl.

  “No, go now. The kids need to go to school soon, and we can’t go out there with that bull hanging around.”

  Nap glanced at the clock on the shelf. “There’s plenty of time,” he said. “Let me eat my breakfast first.”

  Lea and the children stared out the window, watching as the bull wandered near the barn. He let out a loud moo. When Rose didn’t respond, he mooed again, impatient.

  “You won’t get a date acting like that,” said Lea. “Try being a little more subtle.”

  The children laughed.

  The bull lifted his head and sniffed the air, then bellowed some more.

  “Rose doesn’t seem too interested,” said Pol.

  “She’s always been picky,” said Lea.

  Spying the outhouse, the bull wandered over, sniffed the air, and circled it.

  “Guess he smelled what’s down the hole,” said Pol.

  “Or maybe he needs to go to the bathroom,” said Lilian.

  “I hope not,” said Pol. “There aren’t enough pages left in the catalogue for his big behind.”

  They broke into another fit of laughter.

  “It may be he’s just curious,” said Lea. “He wants to know what that little barn is.”

  Without warning, the bull turned his backside to the outhouse and began rubbing it.