No Small Victory (4 page)

“Don't worry so much, Amy. The game warden seldom works on Saturdays, and besides, they leave someone as a lookout. I'll slip right out of there if there's any sign of the law.”

Mum finished poking the fire and then banged the poker onto its hook behind the stove. “Well, I'm not comfortable with this. So far we've always trusted God to provide.”

“Yes, I agree, but we have to do our part. ‘Look to the ant, thou sluggard. Consider her ways and be wise,'” quoted Dad.

Mum harrumphed. “I can't stop you—just hope you can outrun the warden.”

Dad turned to Bonnie. “Want to come along?”

“Thomas, are you out of your mind?” said Mum. But Dad had already disappeared out the back door.

Bonnie followed and grabbed her old, blue knitted sweater and her black rubber boots from the back shed. Sitting on the steps just outside, she threw her old shoes off and pulled the tall boots on. Since she was short, the boots reached up to three inches above her knees. Then she pulled on the sweater and rushed, boots flapping, to catch up to her father.

She ran along the pathway to the small gate and into the barnyard. Just then, Dad came out of the granary with two empty sacks flung over his left shoulder. “C'mon, Bonnie,” he said. “Keep up or stay at home.” He swung back the long, heavy gate that separated the barnyard from the laneway leading toward the western boundary of the farm. It veered over steep hills until it reached a woodland of oaks and maple trees. Then it sloped down steeply to the main road that went south and west into the hamlet of Lang.

“Are we going to walk?” Bonnie asked.

“Of course. It's not worth taking the horses. Burnham's Dam is just a bit to the southwest. We'll be fishing in Indian River—the same one that runs through Lang.”

Bonnie was concentrating so hard on keeping up with her father's long strides, she could hardly hear him. She was puffing just to keep breathing. Just last year, she'd been away from school for six weeks with a sore throat and swollen glands. Since then, she had never completely lost her cough. But Bonnie didn't let that ruin her day. She was so happy to be out in the fields on this crisp day in early fall. It was much better than being stuck in a house that smelled so strongly of Lysol.

Bonnie and her father left the hilly laneway and headed across the steep fields. Before long, they arrived at a rail fence. Dad climbed over and strode on across the grassy field on the other side of the fence. “I'm going to be ploughing this field next week. Hope I get all the ground worked up before snowfall. It's plenty hard. Wouldn't it be great if I could just push a button on a machine, and it would plough the fields in no time at all?”

“Is that why Mum and Uncle Elvin call you ‘push-a-button,' sometimes?”

Dad laughed. “I guess so.”

“Then you could plough more fields and plant more crops. For sure, we wouldn't be in debt then,” said Bonnie, sliding easily between the rails. She plodded across the meadow behind her father and down a grassy hill, stepping in and out of his shadow. Then Bonnie looked up and saw one of their four black-and-white cows grazing in the sunny, green meadow. The others were lying under the tall maples.

“There are those cows, lazing around as usual!” said Bonnie. “All they ever do is sleep, and all we ever do is work!”

“That's right,” said Dad, “and starting tomorrow morning, you'll be bringing in those cows every morning for milking. I'll wake you up at six o'clock.”

Bonnie gasped. “But, Dad, I—”

“I don't have your Uncle Marsh or your Uncle Adam anymore. So you are going to do your share, young lady. You'll get the cows every morning and every night till the snow flies. Then they'll stay in the barn or barnyard.”

Bonnie grimaced. She wondered what Mum would say about Bonnie's new chore. After all, Mum made her work inside the house most of the time, where she didn't have a chance to daydream. And she'd probably worry about Bonnie catching colds in the damp morning air.

They'd come to the edge of their farm. On the other side of the rail fence, beyond the road, was a thick woodland.

“Now, Bonnie,” said Dad, “the river is in the middle of those woods. Take a good look at where you are.” Bonnie stared straight ahead. “Now, turn around and stare back across our fields and up that big hill. Our laneway's on the other side.”

Bonnie did as she was told, although she could not see the lane let alone the house.

“So, do you think you could find your way home from here?”

“I…think…so.”

“Well, we'll be walking straight south down this road for a mile or so. After the fishing, we'll walk straight back up this road to our property. Now, remember that.”

“Oh, I'll be fine,” said Bonnie, even though she didn't feel fine.

Dad continued. “If you get lost, just keep on going and you'll come out on one of those roads to the north or west of the woods. See how the road winds around?”

“Yes, I do, but why don't I come back with you?”

“I hope we can come back together. I'm just telling you in case…”

“In case of what?”

“Nothing much, but if the game warden comes by, I'll have to skedaddle. You might have to make your own way home since I'll not be waiting for you. C'mon. I've wasted enough time.”

Dad put both hands on top of the fence and flung his legs over it, landing lightly on the other side without even dropping his fishing rod. Bonnie was having a harder time struggling through between the rails. These ones had rough spots that ripped across one of her rubber boots. She was glad it had not torn.

It soon seemed to Bonnie that she and Dad had been walking along the dusty road for hours and hours. Bonnie took three steps to each one of her father's. Her shiny black rubber boots made it harder to keep up because they were heavy. She almost wished she hadn't worn them, but she sure wasn't going to miss this chance of wading in the river. Her rubber boots were perfect for that. She could hardly wait.

Then her father walked into a ditch full of grass that was almost as tall as Bonnie. She parted the blades in front of her and saw her father disappearing into the pine and poplar trees ahead.

Bonnie tried to speed up but, without warning, she sprawled over an old gnarled root that ran across the little pathway.

“Wait!” Bonnie screamed.

Her father turned around. “Are you all right, Bonnie?” He walked back and pulled her up on her feet. “You've got to keep quiet.”

Her hands were dirty and a bit bloody, but the scrapes were not deep. So Bonnie said, “Sorry, Dad. I'm just fine.” She brushed off her palms and then her overalls. She'd never yell again on this trip—not even if she saw a bear or a wolf or anything else. She'd show Dad that she was brave.

But it was almost impossible to stop being clumsy. Her mother always told her how clumsy she was. Mum was right. No matter how hard Bonnie tried to walk carefully, she was forever falling over her own feet. The boots just made it worse. Actually, her mother thought Dad was clumsy, too. It was true that Mum was much handier at repairing things around the house and barn. Bonnie felt certain she must have inherited all the clumsy parts of Dad and none of the strong, graceful parts of her mother.

She looked up again and saw that Dad was far ahead of her on the trail. She began to run, being very careful to avoid tree roots. She caught up to him in a small clearing that led to a river and a low dam.

“Well, here we are, Bonnie. This is Burnham's Dam.”

Bonnie walked toward the edge of Indian River and put her hands on her hips. So, Bonnie and Dad had made it to the river. Now she'd go wading. She would make good use of these new boots!

“Not so fast, young lass!” came a strong but quiet voice from behind her.

She turned and looked back at a pair of the darkest, bushiest eyebrows she'd ever seen. They were attached to Mr. Johnson, Archie and Angela's father.

“Better stay away from the river's edge,” Mr. Johnson said quietly. “We're wanting to catch fish. We don't want to end up fishing you out!”

Bonnie moved away from the riverbank and watched the water rush over the dam. It foamed up when it hit the river below and Bonnie knew that the foam was probably hiding lots of fish. A few men had cast nets there.

“Good to see you, Brown,” said Mr. Johnson, raising his bushy eyebrows and smiling. “The suckers are thick here today. No one will need to go hungry this winter. Forget about that fishing rod and bait,” he added, as Dad set his rod down on the ground and took a bottle of worms out of his inside coat pocket. “It'll be too slow. If the nets fail, we'll use our spears. We'll have our sacks full in no time.”

Now it was Dad's turn to smile. Bonnie liked seeing him do that—mostly because he almost always looked sad and worried.

“This here's your neighbour Post, and over there is Hubbs,” Mr. Johnson was saying.

Mr. Post was a short, jolly man. He beamed a big smile at Dad out from under his red hair.

Bonnie followed the men down to the water. Then she looked out past the river to the spruce and cedar bush on the opposite side. This north country did look scraggly, but the air was crisp and the sky looked as blue as any day in Massassaga. While they sorted out the nets, she watched some fish slip out of the water, then tumble over the falls.

“Oh, Dad, look at that big one!” she cried out.

“Bonnie!” Dad growled. “If you can't be quiet, go back in the bush. The fish will hear you and they'll all be scared away!”

“Either that or you'll bring on the law!” laughed Mr. Johnson. Then he added quietly, “Don't worry, Brown. I've left Archie back to watch. He'll whistle if he sees the game warden. And anyway, with these fish jumping into our big nets, we'll be out of here in a quarter of an hour—tops!”

So Archie was here! Would she be able to spot him from the river's edge back at the top of the dam?

Bonnie trudged through the underbrush of poplar saplings and fallen cedar logs and scrambled up to the higher ground. There, not too far away, was a white-blond-haired boy looking straight at her.

FOUR:
FISH BALLS

Bonnie tramped over the ground's thick coat of fallen leaves, waving to her neighbour.

“Hey! I'm glad you've come,” Archie said, once Bonnie had managed to cross over to him. “It's lots of fun helping out here. And it would be even better if we got to miss school for it.”

“You don't like school?”

“It's not so bad now that I'm older, but it's sure boring.”

“How old are you?”

“I turned eight last March.”

Bonnie grinned. “I'm older than you. I turned nine in August. But we can still be friends. I've always wanted a little brother.”

“Little! Jeepers! You're not much bigger than I am.” Archie laughed, then made a face. “Anyway, I already have two older sisters. You met Angela, and the oldest one is Lizzie. Then there's my baby sister Teenie.”

“Any brothers?”

“Nope. I wish I had one. There's only my father and me to do all the farm work. I tell you, there's no way I'm going to be a farmer when I grow up. I'm going to be a soldier, just like my Dad was in the Great War.” Archie saluted a nearby poplar tree and braced himself against the autumn wind that had begun rifling through the woods.

“You're crazy!” Bonnie said. “I'd like to play a game.”

“We could play jacks,” said Archie. “Here, these pebbles would work just fine.”

“Do you have a ball?” Bonnie asked.

“'Fraid I don't. I'd have to make one.”

“Well, let's not bother. I'd sooner play I SPY.”

“Okay, but, jeepers, that's a kind of boring game.”

“I spy something that's blue and white,” said Bonnie.

“Nothing like that in the middle of these woods!” said Archie. “So give me another clue.”

“It's high up,” said Bonnie.

“Can you really see a cloud up there?” asked Archie, stretching his neck to peer straight upward. “I can't.”

Bonnie stared straight up too. “Well, I can't now but I did before. I really did, Archie. So it should count.”

“Well, keep looking up and maybe it'll roll over the treetops again.” Staring straight up, they waited.

“Well, isn't this quaint,” said a nasty voice from behind them. A big man with a brown jacket grabbed Archie by the back of his collar. Struggling, Archie put a whistle to his lips and blew it hard. The man grabbed Archie's whistle.

“Hey, you! Give me back my property!” Archie shouted.

“Trying to warn your friends, I see! Well, you don't fool me.” The man threw Archie into a patch of prickly bushes and headed straight toward Burnham's Dam.

“Wait, Mister!” Bonnie shouted. She ran up beside the game warden and plunked her hands on her hips, staring up at the scowling, bearded face.

The game warden turned to her with a smirk. “And what do you have to say, snippet?”

“I'm new in these parts, and Archie was just showing me how to blow this whistle.”

“He was, was he?”

“Yes, and we're talking about school. I'm going to Lang School, starting on Monday.”

“I see. Do your parents know you two are out here in the woods?” He smirked at them again and said, “But of course they do. They've left you to watch for me.”

“Oh, no, you've got it wrong,” said Bonnie. “My parents have rented that farm yonder and I walked right to the end of the fields and down the road a piece. Then I saw Archie and came over to visit.” Bonnie was standing in front of the man now—on the pathway between him and the dam.

“Are you from
that
farm? The Elmhirst farm?” The man looked in horror in the direction Bonnie had pointed. Then he started backing away from her. “Git away from me. Git back.” He turned to look at Archie and shook his finger at him. “I'll get into that river another way. Don't you doubt that!” Then he pointed to Bonnie. “But I'm not going past that one. And you better steer clear, too, if you don't want to die by choking up your own blood. Have some sense, boy! Git away from her!”