The First Four Years (6 page)

Mr. and Mrs. Boast lived by themselves on their farm. They had no children and could
hardly make fuss enough over Rose.

When at last the visit was over and Mr. Boast was standing by the buggy to see them start,
he started to speak, then hesitated and finally said in a queer voice, “If you folks will
let me take the baby in to Ellie for her to keep, you may take the best horse out of my
stable there and lead it home.”

Manly and Laura were still in astonishment, and Mr. Boast went on. “You folks can have an
other baby and we can't. We never can.”

Manly gathered up the reins, and Laura said with a little gasp, “Oh, no! No! Drive on,
Manly!” As they drove away, she hugged Rose tightly; but she was sorry for Mr. Boast as he stood still where they had left him, and for Mrs. Boast waiting in the house, knowing, she
was sure, what Mr. Boast was going to propose to them.

The rest of the winter passed quickly. There were no more storms and the weather was warm
for the season. April came and on all the farms seeding was begun.

On the twelfth of April, Manly went down to the barn to hitch up for the afternoon's work.

When he went into the barn the sun was shining warmly and he had no thought of storm.
But when the horses were combed and brushed and harnessed, just as he was starting to take
them out, there was a crash as of something smashing against the whole side of the barn.
Then he heard the shriek of the wind and looking out could see nothing but whirling snow.
A blizzard in April! Why, it was time for spring's work! Manly could hardly believe his
eyes. He rubbed them and looked again. Then he unharnessed the team and went to the house.
It was quite a little way to go and nothing whatever could be seen except the whirling
snow, but there were things scattered along the paththe cutter, the wagon, the bobsled.
Taking his direction from the way each stood as he came to it, he went on to the next and
came safely to the porch and the house. Laura was anxiously trying to see from the window to the barn, hoping for a glimpse of Manly
coming, but she couldn't see him until the door opened.

It was the worst storm of the winter and lasted two days, with no slacking of the wind
which held steadily to its high wild shriek.

But all was snug at the house. The stock were safe and warm in the barn, and following the
line of sleds and wagon, Manly managed to get safely to them and back once a day to give
them water and fill the mangers.

When on the morning of the third day the sun rose bright and the wind came only in low
gusts, it looked a wintry world. A good many people had been caught in the storm and two
travelers nearby had lost their lives.

While Mr. Bowers was working in his field, two miles south of town, two strangers had come
walking from town. They stopped and inquired the way to Mr. Mathews, saying they were
friends of his from Illinois. Mr. Bowers pointed out Mr.

Mathews' house to them, in plain sight across the prairie, and the strangers went on their
way. Soon the storm struck and Mr. Bowers went from the field to his buildings and shelter. The day the storm was over, Mr. Bowers saw Mr. Mathews passing on his way to town and inquired about his friends from Illinois.
Mr. Mathews had not seen them, so the two went searching for them.

The two strange men were found in a haystack that stood by itself on the open prairie,
considerably off the course they should have followed. They had pulled hay out of the
stack and lighted it to make a fire. They evidently had given up the idea of keeping warm
by an open fire in the wind and snow and had crawled into the hole in the haystack. There
they had frozen to death.

If they had kept walking, they could have “walked out” the storm, for it lasted only two
days. Or if they had been properly dressed, they would not have frozen inside the
haystack. But their clothes were thin, for springtime in Illinois,

and not for a western blizzard.

T h e snow was soon gone again, and spring really came, with the singing of meadow larks
and the sweetness of violets and new grass as all the prairie turned a beautiful soft green. Laura put Rose in a clothesbasket with her tiny sunbonnet on her head and set the basket nearby while she and Manly planted the
garden.

The old dog Shep was gone. He never had become reconciled to Rose but always was jealous
of her. One day he went away and never came back, and his fate was never known. But a
friendly, stray Saint Bernard, a huge, black dog, had come to the house and been adopted
in Shep's place.

The Saint Bernard seemed to think his special job was to watch over Rose, and wherever she
was, there he would be curled around her or sitting up close against her.

The cook-stove was moved into the storeroom, leaving the other room cooler for the hot
weather, and in the summer kitchen Laura worked happily, with Rose and the big, black dog playing or sleeping on the floor. There could be no horseback riding safely with a baby, but Laura did not miss it so much, because Manly fastened a drygoods box in
the front of the road-cart, leaving just enough room for Laura's feet at the end where the
driver sat.

When the work was done after dinner, Laura would hitch Barnum to the road-cart and with
Rose in her pink sunbonnet sitting in the box would drive away wherever she cared to go.
Sometimes she went to town, but more often to see her Ma and the girls.

At first Ma was afraid to have Rose travel that way, but soon she became used to it.
Although Barnum was a fast driver, he was as gentle as a kitten, and the cart on its two
wheels was light and safe. Rose could not fall out of the box, and Laura was a good
driver. She never had a moment's uneasiness with Barnum hitched to the road-cart.

And Manly didn't care how often she went, just so she came home in time to get supper.

With housework, garden work, caring for and driving with Rose, the summer soon passed and
it was haying time again. Now Rose sat in the shelter of a windrow of hay and watched
while Laura drove Skip on the bull rake.

Laura and Manly both liked to stay out in the sunny hayfield, and leaving Rose asleep with
the big dog watching over her, Laura sometimes drove Skip and Barnum on the mowing machine while Manly raked hay with Fly and Trixy.

There were no threshers to cook for this fall, for the renters on the tree claim had the
threshing done.

T h e yield of grain was not nearly so much as it should have been. The season had been
too dry. And the price of wheat was loweronly fifty cents a bushel.

Still there was money enough to pay all the interest and some of the smaller notes,
those for the mowing machine and horse rake and for the sulky plow, and the first payment
was made on the harvester. There were still the wagon note and the five hundred dollars
due on the house and the eight-hundred-dollar mortgage on the homestead. Seed must be kept
for the next sowing, taxes must be paid, the coal must be bought, and they must live until
after the next harvest.

There would also be the hay again, and this year there were two steers to sell. They were
nice large two-year-olds, and they would sell for twelve dollars each; twenty-four dollars
would help buy groceries.

They hadn't done so badly, considering the season.

T h e twenty-fifth of August had come again, and this winter and summer were the second
year.

ith the coming of cool weather, Laura proposed moving the cook-stove back into the
bed-sitting room, and she could not understand why Manly put it off, until one day when he came from town with a
hardcoal heater.

It was a beautiful stove, the black iron nicely polished and all the nickel trimmings
shining brightly.

Manly explained how buying the stove would be a saving in the end. It would take so little
coal to keep it going that even though the price per ton was twelve dollars instead of the
soft-coal price of six, the cost would be less. Then there would be a steady, even heat night as well as day.
It would keep them from taking cold by being first warm then chilly, as with the
cook-stove. The nickel top of the new stove was movable and all the cooking except baking
could be done in it. On baking days a fire could be made in the summer kitchen.

Rose was creeping, or rather hitching herself, around on the floor these days, and the
floor must be kept warm for her.

Laura felt that they couldn't afford the beautiful new stove, but that was Manly's
business. She need not bother about itand he did suffer with the cold. It seemed as though
he could never get clothes warm enough. She was knitting him a whole long-sleeved
undershirt of fine, soft, Shetland wool yarn for a Christmas surprise.

It was difficult to keep it hidden from him and get it finished, but after Christmas she
could knit its mate easily.

Manly wore the new shirt when they drove in the cutter to eat Christmas dinner with the
home folks.

It was dark when they started for home again and it had begun to snow. Luckily it was not a blizzard but only a snowstorm and, of
course, a wind. Rose was warmly wrapped and sheltered in Laura's arms, with blankets and
robes wrapped around them both and Manly in his fur coat beside them.

The going was slow against the storm in the darkness and after some time Manly stopped the
horses. “I believe they're off the road. They don't like to face the wind,” he said.

He unwrapped himself from the robes, climbed out of the cutter, and looked closely at the
ground, trying to find the tracks of the road, but the snow had covered every sign of it.
But finally by scraping away the snow with his feet, he found the wheel tracks of the
road underneath and only a little to one side.

So Manly walked the rest of the way, keeping to the road by the faint signs of it that he
could find now and then, while all around in the darkness was falling snow and empty
open prairie.

They were thankful when they reached home and the warmth of the hard-coal base-burner. And
Manly said his new undershirt had proven its worth.

Though the weather was cold, there were no bad blizzards and the winter was slipping by
very pleasantly Laura's Cousin Peter had come up from the southern part of the state and
was working for the Whiteheads, neighbors who lived several miles to the north. He
often came to see them on Sunday.

To surprise Manly on his birthday Laura asked Peter and the Whiteheads to dinner, cook
ing and baking in the summer kitchen. It was a pleasant day and warm for winter and the
dinner was a great success.

But in spite of the warm day Laura caught a severe cold and had a touch of fever so that
she must stay in bed. Ma came over to see how she was and took Rose home with her for a
few days. Instead of getting better, the cold got worse and settled in Laura's throat. T h
e doctor when he came said it was not a cold at all but a bad case of diphtheria. Well, at least Rose was out of it and safe with Ma, if she had not taken it with her. But there were several anxious days, while Manly
cared for Laura, until the doctor reported that Rose had escaped the disease.

But then Manly came down with it, and on his morning visit, the doctor ordered him to bed
with strict orders to stay there. He said he would send someone out from town to help
them. A short time after the doctor went away, Manly's brother Royal came out to care for
them. He was a bachelor, living alone, and thought he was the one could best come.

So both in the same room, with the crudest of care, Manly and Laura spent the miserable,
feverish days. Laura's attack had been dangerous, while Manly's was light.

At last they were both up and around again, but the doctor had given his last advice and
warning against overexertion. Royal, tired and half sick himself, had gone home, and
Laura and Manly, well wrapped, had spent a day in the summer kitchen while the sick room
was fumigated.

T h e n after a few days longer, Rose was brought home. She had learned to walk while she
had been away and she seemed to have grown much older. But it was very pleasant to have
her taking her little running steps around the room, and most of all, it was good to be
well again.

Laura thought the trouble was all over now. But that was not to be for many a day yet.

Manlydisregarding the doctor's warning had worked too hard, and one cold morning he nearly
fell as he got out of bed, because he could not use his legs properly. They were numb to
his hips and it was only after much rubbing that he could get about with Laura's help. But together they did the chores; after breakfast, Laura helped him hitch up the wagon and he went to town to see the doctor.

“A slight stroke of paralysis,” the doctor said, “from overexertion too soon after the
diphtheria.” From that day on there was a struggle to keep Manly's legs so that he could
use them. Some days they were better and again they were worse, but gradually he improved
until he could go about his usual business if he was careful. In the meantime, spring had come. Sickness with its doctor bills had been expensive. There was no money to go on until another
harvest. The renter on the tree claim was moving away and Manly in his condition could not
work both pieces of land. The tree claim was not proved up and the young trees must be cultivated to hold it. Something must be done. And in this
emergency a buyer for the homestead came along. He would assume the eight-hundred-dollar
mortgage and give Manly two hundred. And so the homestead was sold and Manly and Laura
moved back to the tree claim one early spring day. The little house was in bad order, but a little paint, a few fly screens, and a good cleaning made it fresh and sweet again. Laura felt
that she was back home, and it was easier for Manly to walk on the level ground to the
barn than it had been for him to climb up and down the hill on the homestead.

He was gradually overcoming the effect of the stroke but still would fall down if he
happened to stub his toe. He could not step over a piece of board in his way but must go
around it. His fingers were clumsy so that he could neither hitch up nor unhitch his
team, but he could drive them once they were ready to go.

So Laura hitched up the horses and helped him get started and then was on hand ready to
help him unhitch when he drove them back.

The renter had taken the tree claim with the fall plowing done so he turned it back to
Manly plowed. Manly had only to harrow and seed the fields. It was slow work but he
finished in good time.

The rains came as needed and the wheat and oats grew well. If it would only keep on
raining oftenand not hail.

There were three little calves in the barn lot and two young colts running all over the
place, plus the colt they had bought with Laura's school money, now a three-year-old and
grown out nicely. The little flock of hens were laying nicely. Oh, things weren't so bad
after all.

Rose was toddling about the house, playing with the kitten or clinging to Laura's skirts
as she went about the work.

It was a busy summer for Laura, what with the housework, caring for Rose, and helping
Manly whenever he needed her. But she didn't mind doing it all, for Manly was recovering
the use of his hands and feet.

Slowly the paralysis was wearing off. He was spending a great deal of time working among
the young trees. It had been too dry for them to grow well the summer before and they were not
starting as they should this spring.

Some of them had died. The dead ones Manly replaced, setting the new ones carefully. He
pruned them all, dug around their roots, and then plowed all the ground between.

And the wheat and oats grew rank and green. “We'll be all right this year,” Manly said.
“One good crop will straighten us out and there never was a better prospect.” The horses were not working hard now. Skip and Barnum did what was necessary and the ponies, Trixy and Fly, were growing fat on their
picket ropes. Manly said they should be ridden, but Laura could not leave Rose alone;
neither could she take her during the day with safety and pleasure.

It was quiet and there was nothing to do after supper when Rose was put to bed. She was so
tired with her play that she slept soundly for hours. So Laura and Manly came to saddling
the ponies and riding them on the road before the house, on the run for a half mile south
and back,

then around the half-circle drive before the house, a pause to see that Rose was still
sleeping, and a half mile run north and back for another look at Rose until the ponies and
riders were ready to stop. Trixy and Fly enjoyed the races they ran in the moonlight and
the shying at the shadow of a bunch of hay in the road or the quick jump of a jack rabbit
across it.

Cousin Peter came one Sunday to tell Manly and Laura that Mr. Whitehead wanted to sell his
sheep, a hundred purebred Shropshires.

A presidential election was coming in the fall and it looked as though the Democrats were
due to win. If they did, Mr. Whitehead, being a good Republican, was sure the country
would be ruined. The tariff would be taken off, and wool and sheep would be worth nothing. Peter
was sure they could be bought at a bargain. He would buy them himself if only he had a
place to keep them. “How much of a bargain? What would you have to pay?” Manly asked. Peter was sure he could buy them for two dollars apiece since Mr. Whitehead was feeling particularly uneasy about the election. “And the sale of their wool next spring ought
nearly to pay for them,” he added. There were one hundred sheep. Peter had one hundred
dollars due him in wages. That would be half of the money needed to buy them at two
dollars each. Laura was thinking aloud. They had land enough by using the school section
that lay just south of them: a whole section of land with good grazing and hay free to
whoever got there first and used it. For the first time Laura was glad of the Dakota law
that gave two sections in every township to the schools. And especially glad that one of
them adjoined their tree claim.

“We'd have pasture and hay enough and we could build good shelter,” Manly said.

“But the other one hundred dollars?” Laura asked doubtfully.

Manly reminded her of the colt that they had bought with her school money, and said he be
lieved he could sell it now for one hundred dollars. She could buy half the sheep if she
wanted to gamble on them.

And so it was decided. If Peter could get the sheep for two hundred, Laura would pay half. Peter was to care for the sheep, herding them
on the school section in summer. Together Peter and Manly would put up the hay, with Manly
furnishing teams of machinery. Back of the hay barn they would build on another one for
the sheep, opening onto a yard fenced with wire. Peter would live with them and help with the chores in return. A few days after the colt was sold, Peter
came driving the sheep into the yard that had been built for them. There were a hundred
good ewes and six old ones that had been thrown in for nothing. Every morning after that, Peter drove the sheep out onto the school section to graze, carefully herding them away from the grass
that would be mowed for hay.

The rains came frequently. It even seemed as though the winds did not blow as hard as
usual, and the wheat and oats grew splendidly.

The days hurried along toward harvest. Just a little while longer now and all would be
well with the crop.

Fearful of hail, Manly and Laura watched the clouds. If only it would not hail. As the days passed bringing no hailstorm,

Laura found herself thinking, Everything will even up in the end; the rich have their ice
in the summer but the poor get theirs in the winter. When she caught herself at it, she
would laugh with a nervous catch in her throat. She must not allow herself to be under
such a strain. But if only they could harvest and sell this crop, it would mean so much.
Just to be free of debt and have the interest money to use for themselves would make
everything so much easier through the winter that was coming soon.

At last the wheat was in the milk and again Manly estimated that the yield would be forty
bushels to the acre. Then one morning the wind blew strong from the south and it was a
warm wind. Before noon the wind was hot and blowing harder. And for three days the hot
wind blew.

When it died down at last and the morning of the fourth was still, the wheat was dried and
yellow. The grains were cooked in the milk, all dried and shrunken, absolutely
shriveled. It was not worth harvesting as wheat but Manly hitched Skip and Barnum to the mowing machine and mowed it and the oats, to be stacked like hay
and fed without threshing to the stock as a substitute for both hay and grain. As soon as this was done, haying was begun,

for they must cut the hay on the school section ahead of anyone else. It was theirs if
they were the first to claim and cut it. Laura and Rose went to the hayfield again. Laura
drove the mower while Manly raked the hay cut the afternoon before. And a neighbor boy
was hired to herd the sheep while Peter helped Manly stack the hay. They stacked great
ricks of hay all around the sheep barn and on three sides of the sheep yard,

leaving the yard open on the south side only. And the twenty-fifth of August came and passed and the third year of farming was ended.