Chapter 18
Ever since Charley Wright first saw our cozy little domicile he had decided to bring up his parents and sisters, and in September they really arrived in Emerson. He had, during the summer, built quite a good house half a mile nearer to us than the Coopers. This house had two rooms downstairs and two up, and they brought some furniture, including the piano, without which the girls declared they would not come. Of course their brother had to go and meet them, and as Graham needed lumber to make the partitions and upstairs of our house, besides our winter store of provisions, he decided to accompany him. Alf Woods was also of the party, with his wagon and oxen, and Mr. Raper, who had decided that farming was not his line of things, begged a seat in the wagon that he might return once more to civilization. I naturally inquired what was to become of me, but Graham said I was certainly to go with them and I was only too pleased. The boys had a tent, and I was to sleep in the little Red River cart, which Dick (the pony) had the business of transporting.
We started out one fine afternoon early in September, taking bedding, a little food, and a few actual necessities, such as a tin cup and plate each, and knife and fork, etc. You do not go very fast with oxen, and we made perhaps eight or nine miles that afternoon. Then we camped near a wood. Before we had finished our supper a storm came up and the boys insisted that I should go into a house nearby to sleep. It was a Frenchman’s house, but he was away and his wife, who was alone, welcomed me gladly. She could not speak any English, but I managed to scrape up enough French to converse with her and she was not critical. The next day was fine. How delightful it was driving along over the prairie, up and down hills, through the bush, sometimes fording a stream. Dick was my responsibility, but the lazy little beast gladly accommodated his pace to the oxen and followed their lead, and I either walked or-ode on a board laid from one end of the wagon to the other. It was a delightful spring seat and you could get off and on at will.
Mr. Raper was generally nearby and he told me more of himself than previously. He had been in love with an actress, and his parents to avoid the match had sent him out to Canada, but he had secretly married her the night before he started. He was willing to listen when I spoke of the Lord to him, but I am afraid nothing made much impression. I heard some years later that he went to Chicago, where his wife joined him and they set up a laundry.
Our second night we spent in Nelsonville, and I had a warm welcome from Mrs. Lauderkiss. Her sister had gone home, but she kept me to supper and all night. After this came the road across the prairie, sixty miles as flat as a table and not a tree or a bush to be seen. Here and there we passed the Mennonite villages, but did not enter any of them. At night we camped as usual, but as it looked like rain. I slept in one of the wagons, and they made an awning over me of a buffalo robe. When I waked in the morning, sure enough it was pouring rain. The boys hitched, or perhaps I should say yoked up, without waiting for breakfast, and we made for an hotel which some enterprising individual had begun. It was a good-sized building though not yet finished, but I was glad of a room, even if it had no door, where I could have a wash and change my clothes. We got breakfast here and the rain stopping, made a good journey before dinner, which we ate in a garden. We had finished the food we brought and were glad to buy some rye bread at this house.
After dinner we went on, but soon another storm came up. How it rained and how wet we were. Not far off was a Mennonite village and we made for it. In a fiercer pour than had been yet, we all rushed into one of the houses, carrying what we could in our arms. Wet and cold and hungry, we were a desolate looking group. Perhaps there was good reason why the owner of the house would not let us past the stable—always in Mennonite houses under the same roof as the house. However, there was a stove and Wright insisted on a fire being made. “You give us supper?” he said. “No,” said the man, “no food”. “Nonsense,” said Wright, “you have eggs, bread, coffee,” No, he had nothing. “We pay good price,” said Wright. Then his tune changed; we could have all we wanted. Before long he brought out a table, painted red, with our supper on it. Would you like to know what we had? Well first there was a large tin teakettle of barley coffee, a very dainty China basin of loaf sugar, a box of Christie’s soda biscuits, and a large pan of very soft boiled eggs, and a large loaf of rye bread, sour and black. For utensils we had two spoons and several very nice China cups. Mr. Raper fell upon the bread, declaring it was delicious, but for most of us one taste was enough. However the coffee was not bad and the biscuits fresh and crisp. The eggs were our problem; to eat a soft boiled egg with your pocket knife needs more skill than we had and we only managed one each. Before breakfast time everybody had made a wooden egg spoon and one for me. We could get no straw for beds that night and lay down in the dark—for we could get no candle—on the hard cement floor. Our bedding was wet and we were far from comfortable, but as it rained and stormed all night, we were thankful for a shelter, however poor.
Next morning it was still raining but we wearily plodded on, arriving in West Lynn, the village on the west bank of the Red River, about eleven. A more dirty, wet, forlorn looking crowd could hardly have been found entering an hotel. A man came up to Graham, much to his annoyance, and asked if his sister was “looking for a place”. We all retired to our rooms and when we met at dinner time the transformation was so great that we hardly recognized one another.
We had to cross the Red River on a ferry, there being no bridge, and Graham took me up at once to Mrs. Newcombe’s. It was certainly a treat to get into a comfortable, civilized abode and receive the warm welcome of kind Mrs. Newcombe and her motherly mother. Then I had to visit Mrs. Wright at the hotel and her three daughters, Emmie, Louie and Edie. When she took me in her kindly arms and the girls greeted me as a sister, I felt at home with them at once. I spent a day or two with Mrs. Scott and two afternoons at the dentist, but he was so very attentive and begged for an invitation to our house so assiduously, that I did not go again.
Staying in Emerson with six oxen and a pony, besides hotel bills, was expensive, so the boys were anxious to be off as soon as possible. Charley Wright had arranged for horses, so they did not start as soon as we did. Charley was well loaded with furniture and boxes for his family, and Alf, in addition to lumber, had also some of their things. Graham had a large load of lumber and the wagon box on the top of it, in which was a stove, a barrel of pork (200 lbs.), a keg of syrup and many other things. On the top of all this I sat, wrapped in an old Gray rug, with my Latin grammar to console me. All our personal things were in the cart. However, I am going on too fast.
We left Emerson, or tried to do so, one afternoon, about 1 p.m. and our first difficulty arose when we reached the Red River. The banks had become so slippery, with the constant rain, that it seemed impossible to get the oxen and their heavy loads down to the ferry. Anyone who has been in Winnipeg knows what the black sticky mud is and will not be surprised when I tell them that it was six o’clock when we finally got across the river and then it was only accomplished by cutting numerous boughs and putting them under the feet of the oxen. There was nothing for it but to remain at the hotel in West Lynn all night and that we did.
It was the next morning, when we set out in a drizzling rain, that I was mounted in my lofty seat and became an object of interest to the Emerson doctor, who in a light buggy and with a swift horse was trotting over the prairie to some distant Mennonite village. He stopped when he came alongside of us and remarked: “The lady would be more comfortable in my covered buggy”. Graham was very glad to get me a better vehicle, and I was soon sitting beside the doctor, still grasping my Latin grammar and 50 cents which Graham poked into my hand for my dinner. “I will leave her at the 20-mile village,” shouted the doctor, as the impatient horse started. “Yes,” said the boys, “we will be there by night”.
It certainly was pleasanter driving in the doctor’s buggy and he was a pleasant, intelligent man and we found no lack of conversation. About noon we reached the 20-mile village. Here we stopped and he ordered dinner for us both. When finished he bade me goodbye and I felt rather forlorn as I saw the friendly buggy disappearing in the distance. A Latin grammar has its uses undoubtedly, and may prove interesting on certain occasions, but as your sole companion for a long afternoon it is not all that could be desired. A long, weary afternoon it was. I remained in the guest room, which was fairly clean, and watched my hosts having their dinner at a table in the Center. A large China bowl of what might be termed stew was brought in. Each member of the family produced a fork or spoon from some pocket and they all fell to. I think if I remember rightly they had bread too. When the meal was over the table was conveyed away with all on it. Then I tried wandering around the village but it was raining and the mud was deep. My hostess came in now and then and asked, “Bruder come yet?” But the afternoon wore on and no “bruder” came. Finally it got quite dark and then I knew they would not come. In despair I procured some bread and milk for my supper. Just then two more guests arrived, one a Dutch farmer, who could not speak English, the other an elderly Canadian. “Excuse me,” he said, “but as I am old enough to be your father, I feel I must inquire how you come to be here alone?” I was glad enough of such a nice kind friend, and soon poured my story into his sympathetic ear. He was very consoling and was sure they would be along in the morning. Then we all three lay down in our clothes to sleep. There were three benches, fairly wide, in the room—one each. I took the rug for a pillow and the old German woman lent me a sheep skin coat, which I later regretted having used, but it was really cold. The Canadian snored vigorously and the Dutchman kept shouting at “dream oxen” all night, so I did not sleep much.
Sure enough, about ten o’clock the boys arrived. They had stuck in a mud hole and no efforts of their own could extricate them, but at last a man with a team of horses came on the scene and got them out. But it was then too dark to go farther. I was glad enough to say goodbye to 20-mile village and once more mount to my lofty seat. The drizzling rain continued most of the nine days which it took us to get home, making the trails almost impassable. We would come to a creek or slough, swollen to twice its ordinary size, and to get those three yoke of oxen, with their heavy loads, across seemed well nigh impossible. All six oxen would be put on one wagon. Then their drivers would shout and pull and beat and goad, but to get them all to pull together they could not. The end generally was to unload, convey the empty wagons over, then all the lumber, furniture, etc and then load up again. This was a lengthy proceeding and required much patience. I remember one special slough we spent all the afternoon crossing. We had dined beside it in heavy rain, I sitting on an upturned pail under the wagon while the boys struggled to make a fire and boil some tea and fry pork. After dinner Graham began by carrying me across and I wandered around picking the late flowers and otherwise “putting in” the long hours until it was almost dark, when we set off once more. We were at the beginning of the alkali swamp, a bare, barren tract four or five miles across. We traveled until it was quite dark and then against our will camped by a small clump of willows in the swamp.
I slept as usual in the Red River cart and I had hardly lain down when I remembered to my great consternation that I had left Graham’s silver mug beside the little stream we had crossed. He had a particular affection for this mug, given him when he was christened, and I could not bear to lose it. I knew nothing would induce the lads to go back. What could I do? At last I decided to rise very early and walk back. It was about four miles they had said. Before it was light I slipped out of the cart and started back over the lonely road. It seemed very long but after walking what seemed hours I saw in the distance a light. There was no house anywhere near. What could it be? Should I go back? No, that would be cowardly. I pushed on, my eyes on that light. It grew brighter and at last I made out the shape of a large tent; the light was in it. I crept stealthily by and in a few minutes reached the creek. I knew exactly the spot where the mug lay, in a tuft of grass by a little spring. When I got back the boys were all up and just putting the oxen on to the wagons. They looked curiously at me but did not say a word and it was hard to make them believe where I had been. Months afterwards one of them told me of the fright they were in when they took the cover off the cart and found me gone, but at the time they said nothing. We went another mile out of the swamp and then one of the boys shot a partridge and we had a good breakfast. I think it must have been the next day, being Sunday, that we called a halt and had a most peaceful day. The weather had cleared and we camped in a sweet spot by a stream. I had my Bible as well as the grammar and spent a very happy day.
Two or three days after this Charley Wright’s family overtook us, in a double democrat. We could not get back for two days more at least and the house had no furniture, so it was soon decided that I should go with them and all remain at our house until the goods arrived. It was much rougher riding behind horses than oxen over these unmade roads and we were all thankful to reach our little shack that evening. I cannot remember who drove us but have an idea it was Bredin. I know he was there and made a fire and helped us to get beds made, and took Dr. Wright, who was always a care and a trial, to his own house. I gave Mrs. Wright my bed, in which we found a nest of young mice—but they had brought a cat from Ontario—and the two girls and I had shakedowns of some kind. The third daughter, Emmie, had secured a position in Emerson. We had great fun altogether, for the next two days, and did no end of washing, and I was really sorry to let them go.
It made a great difference in my life, as may be supposed, having kind, motherly Mrs. Wright so near and two nice cheerful girls for companions. It was certainly a mile and a half to their house, but we did not think much of that. I was often there and the girls would come down to tea with me, and we often took long walks. One day Bredin lent us his buckboard and pony and we all squeezed into it and drove a good many miles to see Mrs. Crawley, a bride who had lately come up.
Graham exchanged his never to be forgotten Buck and Bright for a fine pair of white mares, this autumn, and work being pretty slack, he often took us for a drive and we visited some of our more distant neighbors. One expedition I have a vivid remembrance of. It was near Christmas time and very cold. Miss Radford had just changed her name and become the wife of the widower Mr. Burral, and they had built a cozy little house. Meeting Graham one day, they begged him to bring the Miss Wrights and me over to spend the evening, and named a day. We were very willing to go, sleighing was good and the drive delightful. When we arrived about five o’clock our appetites had been made very keen by the cold fresh air. The room was warm and comfortable, I got out my knitting, and we all sat down. We wondered privately that no sign of a meal was apparent. The hours dragged on. We got more and more silent; we had exhausted every topic of conversation. Graham fidgeted uneasily, I knitted faster and faster, and Edie and Louie became sad and depressed. At last about 8 p.m., just as we were thinking of saying goodnight, our hostess arose and prepared to make a cake. We watched with intense interest. Then a wonderful supper was laid; pickles, cold meat, jam, cake and buns. We had got to the condition of the boy Graham used to tell about, who said he could “eat 10,000 blooming buns and the man who made them”, when at last we were called to supper. You may depend we did ample justice to it. We found they had put the clock back an hour to detain us longer. Of course Graham and I did not care, but Dr. Wright was such a crank his daughters went home in great fear about midnight. Another time we drove over to a bachelors’ encampment and one of them presented me with a sweet cocker puppy, all black. We called her Flossy and she became a great pet in our little establishment.