“No,” Daniel answered. “But I do think it shows there could be possibilities.”
Jed’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you?”
“Not really,” Daniel denied, squirming. “If there was something I could tell you, I would,” he said truthfully.
Jed shrugged. “Okay, but unless you unearthed something really major, they’d never build a huge place like that here. Eastend isn’t that far away.”
Daniel’s body tingled all over. Pederson had unearthed something major! “So, maybe they’d have something smaller here, like a research outstation or a town museum. But we could charge people to come,” he waved his arms about, excited.
Jed grinned. “Yeah, and people could go on hiking trails, and excavation sites, too. That would be fun!”
“And field camping trips, just like at the Royal Tyrrell Museum in Alberta, or the T-rex Discovery Centre,” Daniel added, envisioning busloads of people arriving in their driveway. “My mom could serve coffee and donuts, or maybe sandwiches. Then she wouldn’t have to drive into town to work all the time.”
“Speaking of food,” Jed interrupted. “I’m hungry. I’d better get home soon for dinner.”
“Can’t you stay?”
“No, I promised,” Jed shook his head. “My aunt and uncle are coming. And my cousins.”
“Not the aunt and uncle from Calgary? Where you might have to move?”
Jed nodded sadly.
Daniel sat glumly for a moment, and then he grinned at his friend, who was always hungry. “Okay. Race you back.”
They pushed each other playfully out of the way, jostling to be the first out of the hideout. Dactyl squeezed between them, and won the struggle. Once outside, Daniel carefully covered the opening and adjusted his string with the bones and tins on it. “This is my intruder alarm,” he explained. Then they headed for home.
At the barn, Daniel’s Dad offered Jed a ride home.
“It’ll save your dad coming over.” Dad held a tool in his hand. “Besides I need to return this pipe cutter to him anyway.”
Jed nodded, and Dad went to start the truck.
Mom, stirring a steaming pot of his favourite homemade chicken noodle soup, greeted Daniel in the kitchen. He washed his hands quickly at the kitchen sink, and grabbed a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches from the plateful on the counter. He chomped into one and slid into his usual seat at the table beside Cheryl. He rubbed his fingers gently over her face, making her laugh and grab at his hands. Mom placed a bowl of soup in front of him.
“Slow down,” she tapped him gently on the top of his head. “There’s plenty of food.”
He smiled at her and kept chewing. “I’m starving,” he said, remembering that he’d hardly eaten any breakfast.
Being with Jed had almost made him forget about the horror of the night before and the decisions his family faced. He tried not to think of it now. Soon enough his dad would return from driving Jed home, and the tension in the house would be back. He took a small sip of the tasty soup. She’d made it with flat noodles and big chunks of chicken and carrots, just the way he liked it.
“Mom?” he said, suddenly remembering Pederson. “I was wondering about angina.”
“Angina?? What about it?” she asked, surprised.
“What causes it?” Daniel wanted to be sure Pederson was going to be okay.
“Usually, it’s triggered by too much physical activity that increases the heart’s demand for oxygen. So if they don’t get enough oxygen they suffer an attack,” she answered.
“Can someone have it for years and still be all right if they have an attack?” Daniel asked.
“Sure, if they have stable angina, and as long as they take their pills or puffer and have regular checkups,” she clarified. “Why?”
He thought quickly. “Ah, I’m doing a health project for school on the human heart and I just wondered.”
Mom nodded.
“So,” he repeated, “if they had an attack, took their medicine and rested, they’d be fine then?”
“Yes, as long as they were healthy otherwise,” she confirmed, placing the plate of sandwiches on the table in front of him.
“They’d take nitroglycerine, right?” he asked.
“Yes.” Mom seemed pleased that he knew the right term. “But, if they have unstable angina, which means they have increased and unpredictable attacks, then they probably need to be hospitalized when an attack hits.”
Daniel nodded, digesting the information as he slurped his soup and finished his sandwich. Pederson called his condition angina and said he had just done too much work. Surely scraping and digging in the tunnel with not much fresh air had triggered his attack. But maybe he’d better check on him as soon as he could, just to be sure.
Just then Dad came in and joined them at the table.
“So how was your ride?” he asked quietly, reaching for a sandwich.
“Good,” Daniel answered. “Thanks for taking Jed home.”
Dad said, “I had to return the cutter to Mr. Lindstrom anyway and it seemed like a good time.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to say, so with Cheryl’s constant babbling and his parents’ strained silence, Daniel excused himself and went to his room to think things through.
Absentmindedly, he paged through his dinosaur books, but now that he’d told Jed about his ideas, there wasn’t much more he could do, except try to convince Pederson to tell people. Why was the old man still being so secretive? Anyone could see that he’d made a major discovery. Daniel would have to find out more next time he was there.
In the meantime, he moved over to his desk and picked up his math text. He had a pile of homework to do. At least it would take his mind off losing the farm. As he worked, he heard Mom put Cheryl down for her nap and go to her own room to sleep, so she’d be rested for work later. Sometimes she looked so tired these days.
Between doing homework and staring out the window, he managed to pass most of the afternoon. He’d finished his math and had just started on his essay about the rain forests in South America, when he heard Cheryl gurgling to herself. He tiptoed into her soft yellow bedroom and over to her crib.
A mobile of dancing clowns hung over her, and she was kicking at the bottom crib pad to make them move. She looked so cute, and determined. As he lifted her out, she snuggled into his neck and chewed on his hair. He whispered to her and picked up her favourite toy, his old blue teddy bear, and took her downstairs. They sat in the big armchair in the living room. When she squirmed too much, he sat her on the blanket on the floor and passed her some colourful rings and other noisy toys to play with. He liked watching her.
It wasn’t too long before his Mom appeared. Daniel swept Cheryl up and handed her into Mom’s outstretched arms. Cheryl obviously needed her diaper changed, but he’d leave that to the expert.
“I’m going out to do chores,” he said, before Mom could even suggest it.
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Daniel!”
He joined Dad, who was already in the barn milking Lily. They did their chores in silence, except for the clanging and scraping of buckets and rustling of the cattle in their stalls as he fed and watered them. Dad’s face was strained, with deep furrowed lines across his forehead. Daniel didn’t want to provoke him in any way.
Later at the supper table, and afterwards when the family watched Honey, I Shrunk the Kids together on television, it seemed to Daniel that everyone was avoiding any mention of their problems. Only after he’d gone to bed did he hear the voices of his parents deep in discussion.
There was no way he was going to listen to their conversation tonight. He’d only hear more bad news. His thoughts wouldn’t stop churning around in his head as it was. What would it be like if they had to move away? When would they have to go? They just couldn’t! How could he convince Pederson to speak up before it was too late? But even if he did announce his discoveries, would it be soo
n enough to do anything about their farm? Would his parents or the bank manager understand the possibilities for their own place?
He slept fitfully all night, working himself into a fevered state. He woke up sweating at four a.m. and threw the quilt off. Exhaustion took over again and he eventually fell back asleep, but only when he turned his thoughts to when he was little and doing fun things with his grandparents. On the farm, of course.
Chapter Eight
On Monday morning, winter daylight came, frosty and bright, as Daniel hurried up the lane to wait for the school bus on the access road. A brisk wind made his cheeks sting. He juggled his armload of books with his skates and eased the lunch box from banging against his left leg. He already knew this was not going to be a good day.
He was trying to imagine not living on the farm anymore, and failing miserably. He shook his head. He couldn’t envision not being able to roam in the nearby hills, couldn’t imagine not being able to visit his secret hideout. This place was so much a part of him and who he was, how could he ever leave it behind? How could he leave Gypsy? And just before Christmas, too. With impatience, he brushed a wave of hair out of his eyes. If only none of this were happening.
Everything was changing, everything that meant so much to him. Would Dad really sell the land? That would destroy everything Daniel had been dreaming about. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Maybe he was worrying for nothing. Maybe they really wouldn’t do it. Dad had said it was just a possibility, if things didn’t improve financially.
But Daniel knew his dad had been having meetings at the bank for the last several months. Each time he returned home, he looked glummer and glummer. But Daniel had figured that it wasn’t critical and somehow they would make everything come out all right. They always had before. A queasy feeling told him that this time was different. His parents were definitely serious about selling the farm.
He took another deep breath to quell his stomach’s lurching. Slowly exhaling, he surveyed the yard as he waited for the bus. His eyes caught the trees along the edge of the gravel road on the opposite side of the house. Or what remained of the trees. He’d almost forgotten about the wreckage, even though he’d been mighty upset when he’d come home from school and found the mess. It had happened late in the fall.
A ruthless road maintenance crew had removed them, they said, to make way for a wider improved road and a deeper drainage ditch. After that, the weather had turned cold and stormy and they’d just left the twisted piles of earth and torn branches until next spring. He had no idea why his father hadn’t gone ahead and moved them. Maybe it had something to do with the trees having been planted as seedlings in two neat rows by his caring great-grandfather many years ago.
He shuddered now as he looked at the gaping holes left by the uprooted spruce and caragana. To him, the scarred landscape looked as if someone had slashed a knife across a painted masterpiece. It was just as bad. He felt like someone had stabbed him, too. He sighed and climbed on board the big yellow bus that had just screeched to a halt in front of him.
All day he fidgeted in school, trying to think of a way his family could keep living on the farm. And how could he convince Pederson to announce his finds? Lost in thought, he barely realized when his class began rehearsing the play for the Christmas concert until everyone fell silent waiting for him to say his lines. He was playing the part of Scrooge in The Christmas Carol. Once he remembered the lines and delivered them, he got right into it. At the end he was surprised by everyone clapping at how well he’d portrayed being miserable. If only they knew.
He tried harder to pay attention, but by the end of the afternoon in Math class he’d have had detention, except that the supervising teacher had to coach a basketball game. He let Daniel off with a stern warning. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief and escaped. At least for the time being. When he got home the fatal decision might be made.
He was barely aware he was riding the school bus for home until it slowed approaching his stop. That’s when he spotted the For Sale signs leaning against the workshop in the yard.
He jumped down from the bus and ran. He burst through the barn door, nearly stepping on a kitten. He ran down the length of the barn until he found Dad in a stall with Lily. Dad sat on the milking stool with the half-filled pail at his feet, staring into space.
“No, we can’t go,” Daniel choked out. He stood against the railing, struggling to swallow the hard lump rising in his throat. “There must be something more we can do.”
“Danny, I know you’re devastated, Son, but there’s no alternative,” said Dad, recovering from the shock of Daniel’s abrupt entrance. He continued quietly, without energy, “We’ve already explained this. You’re just going to have to get used to the idea. Like the rest of us.”
“I don’t want us to go,” Daniel repeated stubbornly. Then more defiantly, he declared, “I won’t go.”
Nothing could justify leaving the only home they’d ever known. Their animals. He would never sell Gypsy or leave Dactyl behind. And what about Jed? And his secret hiding place? What was wrong with Dad? He had never been a quitter. So why give up now?
“Please be reasonable.” Dad sounded exhausted. “There isn’t much hope in farming anymore, Son. It’s the same all over the prairies. We just have to face facts.” He rose and carried the pail to the milking room. He’d forgotten to take the stool. Daniel followed behind with it.
“Face facts? You haven’t even given anything else a chance,” he criticized, shoving the stool against a wall near the milking-room door. “I know times haven’t been so good, but there has to be something we can do. What about you taking a job off the farm for a while? Maybe on the oil rigs or something.”
“I looked into that, Daniel, but I’m too old to get on the rigs. And work on the highway crews doesn’t start until the late spring. I don’t have much education, and there’s no work around here. We’ll have to move someplace where I’ll have a shot at finding something. And where your mom can get a better-paying nursing job, too.” Dad shook his head and concluded in a quiet voice, “The only way is to sell. Sounds like the Nelwins are interested in buying our place.”
“No, you can’t be serious,” Daniel blindly stumbled to the feed room, fighting back tears. The decision seemed final. I won’t cry, I won’t, he told himself as Dactyl ran to him with his tail wagging excitedly. Jumping on his chest, the dog licked his face. Daniel’s arms tightened around his pet for several minutes.
“Come on boy,” he said eventually, his voice cracked and muffled. “Let’s go feed Gypsy.”
Mechanically, he fed his horse and patted her muzzle. As Daniel talked to Gypsy in a soothing voice, Dactyl sniffed about the barn. Then Daniel noticed that his dad had left the door open to the milk separating room, with the pails of fresh milk sitting on the floor. The kittens were already heading in that direction. He hurried over to close the door, then turned to watch Dad leave. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed to shuffle instead of stepping quickly. It was like he had nowhere to go. There was something definitely wrong with him.
Daniel fed the rest of the cattle, and then moved mounds of straw around the stall with the pitchfork and readjusted Gypsy’s pail of water several times. Finally though, he had no other reason to stay. He closed the stable door as quietly as he could. Outside, glancing at the house, he decided he wasn’t ready for another confrontation, especially with Mom, who he could see in the kitchen window preparing supper.
Instead, he headed on foot for the wood-covered hills behind the barn. He’d visit his hideout for a few minutes before dark and try to come up with a plan. He peered at the dark smudges of cloud streaked across the indigo sky.
He picked up a stick and threw it. Dactyl sprang to retrieve it. Again and again, Daniel threw the stick as they crossed the pasture. He was oblivious to his changing surroundings and the leaden sky. After awhile, the golden retriever grew tired of fetching the branch. He was more intent on sniffing out animal tracks instead.
“Dactyl, come on, boy. It’s time to get back,” he shouted. The increasing wind flipped the ties from his parka hood into his face. “Here, boy.”
He repeatedly called Dactyl to come. He could hear the yips of the dog closing in on his prey. There was no calling him back now; Daniel would just have to wait until he tired and returned to him. That’s when he noticed that the heavily falling snow was making everything look a deceptive white.
Urgently, he began calling his dog again, but the escalating pitch of the wind blew his voice away before it could reach Dactyl’s ears. He would just have to start back without him. Dactyl would find his own way. As he turned for home, the snow began coming down more thickly, and the wind increased. He squinted and bowed his head to keep the driving snow out of his face, plodding forward.
All at once, he realized he wasn’t sure anymore which way to go. The trail of footprints he’d made through the snow had disappeared and he couldn’t see a foot in front of him! The intensifying snowfall and blustering wind obscured his vision. It was getting dark. He peered into the blankness. Should he head instead to his hideout? When he turned around there was only a white wall.
He gasped as an icy blast of wind took his breath away. Eddies of snow swirled all around him. Jerking his toque down over his numb forehead, he nestled his chin as far down as it would go into his coat collar. Turning, he thought he’d retrace his trail, but as quickly as he had stepped, his footsteps had disappeared in the blowing snow.
He trudged on, stumbling through the shifting snow, hoping he was headed towards home. Hunger pangs gnawed at his middle, but all he found in his pockets were a couple of sticks of gum. He couldn’t take his mitts off to open them. If he could find his cave, he should be snug until the storm blew over. He’d be able to eat those chocolate bars and beef jerky he had stashed in the old coffee tin for an emergency, too. At the time, he hadn’t imagined anything as serious as the blizzard howling around him now.
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