by Jane Hoppen
“It takes some getting used to, but you’ll get the hang of it,” Evelyn assured her.
“The first squirt gets rid of any dirt on the teat and lets you check the milk,” Peter said. “If the milk is smooth and white, you milk the cow until her udder is empty. You have to milk every teat.”
“Fascinating,” Sarah said. “Most city folks have no idea of the labor that goes behind the supplies we eat daily. At least I never did.”
“When the cows have been milked, we pour most of the milk into those tall metal canisters over there to keep it cool,” Peter said.
“Some of the milk goes into the shallow dishes beside the canisters,” Evelyn added. “We use that for churning butter. Once the cream rises to the top of the dishes, we skim it off and put it into the churn. It usually takes a good half day or so. Churning is a whole different deal. We’ll show you how that’s done this afternoon.”
“Ma says I’m the best churner in the house,” Karl said proudly.
“Perhaps you can teach me,” Sarah said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Karl said. “I’ll show you how to do it right.”
“You boys finish up here while I go feed the pigs,” Evelyn said.
“Yes, ma’am,” the boys replied.
Evelyn left Louise with the boys and led Sarah to the back of the barn. The pigs’ snouts and ears were protruding above the pen’s top rail as they crowded each other, waiting for food. Evelyn picked up a large scoop, plunged it into one of two wooden barrels beside the fence, and dumped the mess into a trough inside the pen.
“These beasts eat a variety of table scraps, vegetable peelings, whey from the milk, and a mix of ground barley and oats that thicken it up.”
“They’re a noisy lot,” Sarah said.
Evelyn smiled.
“Only when they’re hungry,” she said. “After they eat they usually don’t have much to say.”
As Evelyn said, when the pigs were full, they became motionless, except for their flopping ears and wiggling tails.
“Next we tend to the horses,” Evelyn said. She led the way back to the horses’ stall. “The stallion with the dark maroon coat is Red, our primary plow horse. The gray mare is Smokey, and the brown and white mare is Patches. She’s a decent backup for a plow horse, but Smokey’s a bit older, and we use her only to pull the wagon. You already know Henry’s horse, of course.”
Sarah looked at the haggard beast. It would be a constant reminder of the world they had left, the world where they had met. It was also a reminder of Sam. Just as Henry would come back for the horse one day, Sam would come looking for George.
“They’re beautiful,” Sarah said.
“Hard not to like a horse,” said Evelyn.
She lifted the lid of a box and scooped up a pan full of oats, which she dumped into the horses’ feedbox at the end of the stall. She picked up a pitchfork and threw some fresh hay into the stall as well. She then went to a small box nailed to the wall, took out a brush and currycomb, and began to comb the horses one by one, working backward from behind the ears until their coats were shining. Sarah watched in awe—so much to do, and she knew there was more, much more. She was amazed by how Evelyn and her children fell into sync with each other immediately upon her return, as if she was never gone. Even with George’s absence, Evelyn was clearly capable of holding the farm together.
“This is how the mornings start,” Evelyn said. “After these chores are finished, we do whatever cleaning needs to be done in the barn—shoveling up the waste, laying down fresh hay, filling the troughs with water. Before, during the summer, with the boys home from school, they would usually do these chores while I tended to the garden, cleaned, did the laundry, cooked—whatever needed to be done. George would head out to the fields after breakfast and stay there most of the day. Now I’ll be going to the fields with Peter while you and Karl do the milking and barn chores. He can help you with the garden, too.”
Sarah remained silent for a moment. That seemed like so much to undertake. She had never thought about what farm life might be like, what it entailed. Never would she have envisioned this. No wonder Evelyn held up so well at camp.
Evelyn glanced over at Sarah and saw the same face she had seen a number of times at the logging camp—the panic of being in a realm not her own.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m just worried that I’ll let you down,” Sarah said. “That I won’t be able to…”
Evelyn rested a hand on her shoulder.
“Everything will work out,” she said. “We’ll show you what you need to know. You just do what you can. Maybe this life will grow on you. If not, we can figure out something else, something that you might find more suitable.”
Evelyn wondered if Sarah would be able to adapt to the farm, and she saddened a bit at the thought that she might not. She liked the idea of having another adult to help her on the farm and with the children, and she had to admit that she cared for Sarah, had grown fond of her, and wanted their friendship to continue.
* * *
By the time the morning chores were done, the sun had climbed to perch at its highest point in the sky—noon. Evelyn and Sarah and the children headed back to the house to warm up over a lunch of soup and bread. As Evelyn and Sarah cleared off the table, Evelyn glanced at Louise, who was quickly fading.
“Are you ready for your nap, little Louise?” she asked.
“Yes, Mommy,” Louise said.
“I’ll lay you down as soon as we’re done here,” Evelyn said. “I’ll read you a story.”
Louise grinned and clapped her hands.
“Karl, are you ready to churn the butter?” she asked. “The cream should have risen by now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Karl said eagerly. “Can Sarah come?”
Evelyn looked at Sarah.
“I’d be happy to,” Sarah said. “I might as well jump right in.”
“Okay,” Evelyn said. “I’ll tend to the chores in here as soon as Louise goes to sleep, and then I’ll start making dinner. Peter is going to chop some more wood this afternoon. The pile’s running a little low.”
Evelyn picked up Louise and headed up the stairs. Sarah and the boys got ready to go outside and headed out the door. Peter grabbed an ax and went to tackle some of the logs stored behind the house, and Sarah followed Karl to the barn. As they walked she looked down at him. He was good-natured and seemed less serious than his older brother.
“Do you like school?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said exuberantly. “I like math, and I like when we look at the maps.”
“What about reading?” Sarah asked. “Do you like to read?”
“I like when other people read to me,” Karl said.
Sarah laughed.
“When I go home to pick up my things, I’ll bring some books back with me,” she said.
“Do you want to leave your house?” Karl asked.
Sarah didn’t immediately answer.
“I think I’ll like it on the farm, with all of you,” she finally said.
When they entered the barn, Karl led the way to the canisters of milk and the large bowls that he and Peter had filled in the morning.
“It’s ready,” he said as he examined the bowls.
The cream had separated from the milk and risen to the top. Karl got the tall wooden butter churn that sat beside the milk canisters. He skimmed the cream out of the bowls with a shallow saucer and put it in the churn. He put a lid with a hole in its center on the churn and inserted a round wooden stick with cross boards attached to the bottom through the hole. He then got the two stools that he and Peter had used for milking and set them near the churn.
“Now we’re ready,” he told Sarah. “I’ll show you.” He rested his hands on the wooden stick that protruded out of the churn. “This is the dasher.”
He began to methodically move the dasher up and down as fast as he could, and after nearly half an hour, he looked at Sarah, who was watching in
tently.
“Do you want to try?” he asked. “My arms are getting tired.”
“Of course,” Sarah said, and she took hold of the dasher and started the same repetitive motions, up and down, up and down. “How will we know when it’s ready?”
“The butter starts to get solid,” Karl said. “It takes a long time. That’s why it’s easier if we take turns.”
“I see,” Sarah said as she worked the dasher.
“Wait until you taste it,” Karl said enthusiastically.
Sarah grinned, and they continued with the churning, each taking turns, until the sunlight slowly began to seep out of the barn. After more than two hours, Karl peeked into the churn.
“It’s ready,” he proudly pronounced as he removed the lid. “Now we take it out.”
He picked up a slender paddle and began to scoop out the butter, which he placed in a clean tin bucket. When all the butter was removed, he grabbed a wooden spoon and pushed down on the butter to separate the buttermilk, which he poured into a metal bowl.
“Ma will use this to make pancakes,” he told Sarah.
“Ah, pancakes,” Sarah said. “I think they’re my favorites.”
“Me too,” Karl said.
When all the butter and buttermilk was gathered, Karl and Sarah cleaned out the churn and the bowls and then prepared to take their bounty to the house. Karl picked up the bucket of butter, and Sarah carefully balanced the bowl of buttermilk. When they stepped out of the barn, she was surprised to see the sun gradually beginning to sink, a swirling mix of violet-red taking over the sky. Time does pass quickly on the farm. No time to waste.
As she and Karl were heading back to the house, they saw Evelyn and Peter near the chicken coop, both with their backs to them. Evelyn raised an ax and swiftly lowered it, and a squawking screech penetrated the air. Evelyn dropped the ax to the ground, and when she and Peter turned around, Sarah saw that she was holding a headless chicken, its dripping blood staining the snow red. Her stomach lurched and she quickly set down the bowl that she was carrying. Before she could stop herself, she bent over and vomited, then dropped to her knees. Evelyn hurried to her side after handing the chicken to Peter. She placed a hand on Sarah’s back.
“Sarah, are you okay?”
Sarah wiped her mouth on her coat sleeve.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve just never seen a dead…”
She bent over and vomited again, and Peter, who was now by Evelyn’s side, snickered.
“That’s enough of that, young man,” Evelyn said sternly.
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter said as he reddened. “Sorry, Ma.”
“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” Evelyn said.
Peter lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he said.
Finally composing herself, Sarah turned to Peter.
“It’s quite all right,” she said. “The sight of that chicken sure did startle me, though.”
She realized that it would take some time for the children to grow accustomed to her. I’m a stranger to them, she thought. I’ll need to tread lightly. I’ll need to earn their trust, their respect. The thought was a daunting one. She already felt as if Peter saw her as an intruder.
“Peter, you and Karl take the chicken to the house and start plucking it,” Evelyn said.
The two boys walked toward the house, the chicken dangling from Peter’s hand. Evelyn grabbed the bucket of butter, and Sarah picked up the bowl of buttermilk. Evelyn pointed ahead to the boys and the chicken.
“Tonight’s dinner,” she said. “I wanted to cook you something special.”
Despite her embarrassment, Sarah smiled.
“I obviously never considered where chicken comes from until just then,” she said.
They laughed and headed toward the house.
* * *
They feasted well that night on roasted chicken, baked potatoes, pickled green beans, and rolls, and by the time the table was cleaned off and the dishes were done, the darkness of night had descended. Evelyn put the children to bed and went downstairs. Sarah was sitting by the fireplace, sleeping. Evelyn softly shook her by the shoulder. Sarah opened her eyes.
“It’s been a long day,” Evelyn said. “Let’s take the cot upstairs and put some bedding on it so you can get some rest.”
“All right,” Sarah said. She yawned. “I had no idea I was so tired. The day went by so quickly.”
“They always do,” Evelyn said. “Come on.”
Sarah followed her to the pantry and Evelyn pulled out the cot. They each took one end and carried it up to Evelyn’s room.
“We can set it here,” Evelyn said.
She pointed to the wall opposite of where the bed stood.
“Looks good to me,” Sarah agreed.
They put the cot in place and made it up with sheets, a thick quilt, and a pillow.
“I have this, too,” Evelyn said. She held up a coil of thick line and a blanket. “We can run the line across the room and drape this over it. I thought we could both use some privacy.”
She stood on a chair and secured one end of the line with a hammer and nail, then moved to the opposite side of the room to secure the other end. As Sarah lifted the curtain to her, she had a sinking feeling. This is it, she thought. She is uncomfortable with me, here with her. The drape will be a separation. Once the curtain is drawn, silence will fall. She wondered if Evelyn thought that she needed the curtain as some symbol of protection from her.
“That should do,” Evelyn said when she finished the task. “There’s clean water in the basin. I’ve got a few more things to do downstairs and then I’ll be up.”
When she reached the door, she paused.
“You made it through your first day on the farm,” she said. “What do you think?”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Sarah said. “Is it like this every day?”
“Pretty much,” Evelyn said. “Life on the farm is rather routine, not much room for variation.”
“Well, it is an admirable existence,” Sarah said.
“I don’t know about that, but it’s the only life I know,” Evelyn said. “Good night, Sarah.”
“Good night,” said Sarah.
* * *
Two days later, after breakfast, as the boys were about to go to the barn to do their chores, Evelyn heard clamoring outside and went to the window. Will pulled up in his wagon with Helen and Jess by his side. She went out onto the porch to greet them.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon,” she said to Helen as they all got out of the wagon. “Morning, Jess.”
“Hi, Evelyn,” Jess said. “Welcome back home.”
“We came to watch the kids while you and Will take Sarah to fetch her belongings,” Helen said.
Evelyn warmed at the sight of Will, with his disheveled brown hair, crooked grin, and long arms hanging by his side. She thought of George. The brothers had been close, and she had always admired their kinship. In some ways she knew George’s absence was probably more difficult for him than for her. George had been his only remaining family.
“How are you doing, Will?” she asked.
Will smiled.
“Happy to see you made it home safely,” he said. “I hear you brought a guest back with you.”
“Yes,” Evelyn said. “Her name is Sarah. Come inside so I can introduce you.”
“I didn’t want to wait too long before coming,” Will said as they all followed Evelyn into the house. “The thaw has already started, and soon the roads will be too flooded for travel until the river recedes.”
As they entered the house, Sarah was putting away the last of the breakfast dishes and she turned toward them. The children ran to Will, and he gathered them around him with his lanky arms as they laughed and giggled.
“Sarah, this is Will, George’s brother, and Helen’s housemate, Jess,” Evelyn said.
Sarah took in the tall, skinny man. She wondered if he looked like George. She sensed by the way the chi
ldren took to him that he must be a mild-mannered, kind man. She then looked at the woman standing beside Helen. She was attractive, as petite as Helen was, with long, glossy black hair, so dark it had a purplish hue, and dark brown eyes.
“Pleased to meet you both,” Sarah said.
Will grinned and hoisted Louise into the air. “Likewise,” he said.
Jess nodded at her and smiled.
“I can’t thank you enough for keeping the farm in one piece while I was gone, Will,” Evelyn said as she handed him a cup of coffee.
He passed Louise into Helen’s arms and took the cup, sipped, and smacked his lips. “My coffee never is as good as yours,” he said. “You’ve got those two boys of yours to thank for keeping the farm going. They did a mighty fine job, stepped right up. Their father would’ve been pleased.”
The boys beamed with pride.
“As am I,” Evelyn said.
She gave Peter and Karl each a hug. Sarah warmed at the sight of the scene before her—family. She wondered if she would ever belong.
“Boys, I need you to go get the wagon ready,” Evelyn said. “We should get on the road if we’re going to make it back in time for dinner. Your aunt and Jess will stay with you while we’re gone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the boys replied.
“Where are you heading?” Peter asked.
“Pine Creek,” Evelyn said. “A small town to the west, probably very similar to Maple Grove.”
“Can you bring us back a treat?” Karl asked.
“You do deserve one,” Evelyn said. “Sarah, does your Pine Creek have a mercantile store?”
“I recommend the Wileys’,” Sarah said. “They have a fine selection of sweets.”
“You hear that, boys?” Evelyn said as she pulled on her coat and wrapped a scarf around her neck. “Sounds like you’re in luck. Now, go get the wagon ready.”
“Okay, Ma,” the boys said excitedly and rushed out the door.
* * *
The ride to Pine Creek was a quiet and solemn one. Will led the way with his wagon, and Evelyn and Sarah trailed behind. Evelyn occasionally took a side glance at Sarah, wondering what she was feeling about returning home to a place where she could not stay, and what memories the journey must be stirring up of Abigail.