Copyright © 2010 by Connie Brummel Crook
EPub edition copyright © August 2011
Published in Canada by Fitzhenry & Whiteside,
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Crook, Connie Brummel
No small victory / Connie Brummel Crook.
For ages 8-12.
ISBN 978-1-55455-169-9
eISBN 978-1-55455-977-0
I. Title.
PS8555.R6113N6 2010 jC813’.54 C2010-900232-6
U.S. Publisher Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Crook, Connie Brummel.
No small victory / Connie Brummel Crook.
[160 ] p. : cm.
ISBN: 978-1-55455-169-9 (pbk.)
eISBN: 978-1-55455-977-0
1. Courage – Juvenile fiction. 2. Teenage boys – Juvenile fiction. I. Title.
[Fic] dc22 PZ7.C766Ns 2010
Cover and interior design by Erik Mohr
Cover image: iStockphoto.com/Imagine Golf (Farm), iStockphoto.com/VegaBlue (Girl)
With fondest memories to my friends,
Madeleine Davidson Kempt and Archie Davidson
and in memory of Muriel Humphries Bowman
Acknowledgements
My many thanks to the following:
My grandson, Ryan Floyd, for composing the poem to match the original chant, Here Come the Kids from Bug Town.
Eileen Balfour, of Peterborough, for expert advice from her own experience in raising chicken flocks past and present.
Patti Gordon, for showing me her lovely farm home, originally the setting for this book.
Brenda Mancini, Administrative Assistant at P.C.V.S., for details about Dr. H.R.H. Kenner, Principal at Peterborough Collegiate and Vocational School (1908–1943).
John Chesney B.A., outdoorsman and teacher for 35 years, who described visits of a student’s pet crow to his classroom at Grove Public School in Peterborough.
Grietje R. McBride, B.Sc., teacher for 33 years, for very helpful detailed editorial suggestions in the beginning chapters of the text.
Robert C. McBride, B.Sc., M.Ed., a teacher, librarian, principal, and consultant in Gifted Education for 32 years, and now editor of the national magazine, The Loyalist Gazette. His enthusiasm, as one of my students many years ago and now as a reader of my books and this text in particular, has been most helpful. He has always been and still is a great source of encouragement.
Robert Bruce of Belleville, a retired O.P.P. officer who mapped the route for the journey from Massassaga to Lang at that time.
Dr. & Mrs. J. Sheppard, Peterborough neighbours, who visited an elderly doctor, to inquire regarding the medications used in the 1930s and before. Thanks especially to Liz who tabulated those notes for me.
Ann Featherstone, of Featherstone Editing Services, whose suggestions for cutting/adding to my story made all the difference in making it marketable, and
Christie Harkin, Editor of Children’s Books, and Sharon Fitzhenry, Publisher of Fitzhenry & Whiteside, for their support and encouragement.
ONE: BONNIE AND HER SHADOW
Bonnie awoke suddenly to strange sounds below her tiny bedroom. Jumping up, she crept out into the small hallway. She started down the steep pine stairs, still in her pyjamas. It was dark, but through the window in the front door below, she could see figures moving about the yard. She could hear her father’s voice. Something was going on.
“Those two are hard-working beasts, but they’re not used to long shifts. So I told Elvin not to push them. I’ll be needing them to plant crops at the new place.”
New place? Bonnie didn’t know anything about a new place. Her heart sank. She loved it here in the Massassaga community, surrounded by stately maple trees and gentle fields of peas and tomatoes. But Father’s crops had failed this year, and there was something called a debt. Her mother and father talked about it every night after supper—even while she was at the table.
She crept down the remaining stairs and opened the front door. Shadow would come. Beautiful, sleek, and black, he had a diamond-shaped white spot under his chin and another on the tip of his tail. Every night she would sneak out of bed to let him in. Then she’d smuggle him under her quilt and fall asleep to the sound of his contented purring.
“Shadow…” she whispered. “Shadow…come here!”
Something moved under the lilac bush. Good, there he was. He’d come toward the door in a moment, maybe once things quieted down a bit.
“Good thing Elvin left here with time enough to get your wagon through Belleville this morning before too many other wagons and cars were moving about.” It was Grandpa O’Carr, her mum’s father. What was he doing here in the middle of the night?
“Hopefully, with a full-day’s head start, we’ll get our farm supplies to the new place just after we get through with the rest. And I was careful not to overload the wagon.”
“I hope the daytime traffic didn’t spook the horses too much,” said Grandpa. “Those motor cars would startle the steadiest horse.”
“They’re the way of the future. Soon there won’t be a horse left on any farm,” said Dad.
“You and your new-fangled machinery,” grumbled Grandpa. “You think you can push a button and get all your farming done before noon!”
“By George, a bit of good machinery would help. But I can’t afford it.”
“Humph. You’ll never get machinery shipped that far north, anyway!”
“It’s not that far!” Dad protested. “We’ll have a beautiful brick home with a small orchard and a garden…and the rent is very reasonable.”
“That may be, but in those parts! The land will be hard to till; it’s full of hills and rocks—like the ones you’ve got in your head for picking that place.”
Bonnie could hear low mumbling and shuffling coming from the kitchen. Uncle Adam and Uncle Marsh emerged, lugging a huge box. So Dad’s brothers were here, too. It was practically a family reunion! And they had put her to bed to sleep through it all.
Bonnie stepped out and crouched behind the cedar bush till her uncles had passed by. Then the moon shone out from behind a cloud. Now she could see her way around to look for Shadow. She whispered in a low voice, “Shadow! C’mon, Shadow!”
The September night was cool but she didn’t care if she caug
ht a cold. Was this really going to be her last night at home? She must find Shadow. They would need to stick together. Would that new place be as bad as Grandpa O’Carr said?
Bonnie and her Shadow. Dad had thought of both names. Beatrice was Bonnie’s real name, and Mum wanted to call her Bea. “She’ll be my little helper,” she’d said. “Busy as a bee, just like her mother.” But Dad had won out. At first sight of the baby in the cradle, he’d declared she was a bonnie lass, and so all the Browns called her Bonnie. Soon everyone did.
“You know, there’s no call to be moving out of your home—lock, stock, and barrel—in the middle of the night.” Grandpa’s voice boomed out over the dooryard as men carried the dining-room table to Uncle Adam’s cattle truck. Bonnie could hear the cows shuffling and mooing. Was the good furniture going to be packed right next to the cows? She hoped they had a partition between them. “I bought those things when you married my daughter and I still have the receipts. By law, they belong to me. It’s a real shame that you’re losing your farm because you can’t meet those mortgage payments, but I’ll see you don’t lose anything else. They’ll not get their hands on your beds and tables. They’re mine.”
“Are you sure?” Dad sounded worried. “What about the tax collectors?”
“My taxes are paid, so the same holds true,” said Grandpa. “I won’t let anyone take away your furniture.”
“Well, I’m glad someone’s doing well.”
“It’s not your fault, son. It’s this miserable Depression. And it can’t last forever.”
“I thought it’d be over by now. But 1936 has been no better than the first half of this decade.” To Bonnie’s surprise, her tough old Grandpa O’Carr put out his hand and patted her father on the shoulder.
The wind whipped clouds back over the moon. Nearby crickets chirped loudly. Everything suddenly went dark again. Then she heard the sound of a big truck screeching to a quick stop on the highway right in front of their house.
“You bloomin’ idiot!” Dad’s voice came through the other night sounds.
Bonnie jumped up from behind the cedar bush She shook off some broken twigs and took a few steps toward her father. He didn’t see her. He was staring at the truck and shouting, “Can’t you watch where you’re going? Now just look what you’ve done!”
The driver jumped out of the cattle truck parked on the other side of the road and looked under his front wheel. “I didn’t see the cat there! Honest!” Dad crossed over the highway and held his lantern close. Both men were now staring down.
With a gasp, Bonnie ran toward the road.
“Stop!” Dad yelled at Bonnie as she dashed ahead. He met her halfway across the road and pulled her back to their front dooryard with his strong arms. “No use you looking now, Bonnie,” he said. “That little mite’s gone to heaven for sure.”
“But he’s under the truck!”
“Bonnie, what are you doing out there?” Mum’s sharp voice cut through the damp night air. Bonnie started to cough. Her mother ran outside and, grabbing her daughter’s hand, led her back into the house and over to sit in the wooden rocking chair by the kitchen door. Lantern light glowed around the chair, but the corners of the empty room were full of dark shadows. Boxes stood piled by the doorway.
Mum took a thick quilt and threw it over Bonnie. Its green and reddish-blue patches seemed to glow in the light of the lantern. Bonnie started crying.
Dad followed them inside and knelt beside his daughter. “Bonnie, I’m sorry—I’ll get you another cat.”
“I don’t want another one!” Bonnie wailed. “I want Shadow. Now he’s dead! I hate that man!”
“No one can see in the dark,” said Dad. “The cat should have been sleeping in the barn. No one knew he was heading for the house.”
A sudden realization hit Bonnie in the stomach like a fist. She was the one who let Shadow into the house at night. Now she couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Come, mop up those tears. Let me see those big blue eyes again,” said Dad, handing Bonnie his big red kerchief. “It’s too bad. Poor Shadow would have been just fine at our new place. No cars for miles.”
“No cars for miles!” Bonnie gasped. “Where are we going? To the North Pole?”
“Only about seventy miles north. We’re moving to a fine farm between Lang and Keene—about twelve miles from Peterborough,” said Dad. “It’ll be a big adventure. You’ll see.”
“But I don’t know that place,” said Bonnie. “I like it right here in Massassaga. I like going to Belleville with Grandma Brown. Peterborough’s too far away.”
“We’re going to miss our relatives, all right,” said Mum. “But it’ll have its compensations. Your uncles won’t be snitching my pies and cakes out of the pantry window before they’ve even cooled down.” Then she smiled at Dad, for Mum was a crackerjack cook, and she was just bragging a bit about everyone going for her baking.
Bonnie wasn’t just sad now—she was angry. “I don’t want to leave Grandma and Grandpa Brown!” she stormed. “I don’t want to leave my school! I like my school. Miss Anderson said I could take Grades Four and Five together this year. I will not move!”
She stood up and stamped one foot on the floor.
“We’ll see about that, young lady,” said Mum. “Get into some warmer clothes now. And calm down or you’ll bring on another coughing attack!”
Bonnie looked at her father with pleading eyes.
“It can’t be helped, Bonnie. Now, do as your mother says. I have work to finish up.” He bent over, kissed her on the forehead, and hurried out the door.
“Go back to your bedroom, Bonnie,” said Mum. “I’ve laid out your skirt and blouse. Since you’re up anyway, you might as well put them on and wait there. We’ll call you when we’re ready to go.”
Bonnie wished they would forget her. She trudged across the dining room into the hallway and up the steep stairs. She hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye to anyone—not her teacher nor her school friends. And not even her Grandma Brown or her aunts who lived in the big house on the hill next door. Nor Grandma O’Carr and Aunt Leah, who lived on the Ridge Road near Stirling—nineteen miles north of Belleville.
She was going to hate this new place. She knew it. Perhaps she wouldn’t have to go. Maybe Mum and Dad would forget her. They were always busy working anyway. Bonnie put her clothes on quickly and flung herself on the little cot in her room.
Shadow. If only he were coming too. She wouldn’t have been quite so lonesome. Then she buried her face in her pillow and sobbed for her cat, her school friends, her aunts and uncles, her grandparents—just everyone. And whatever would the new home be like? Would there be polar bears and icebergs away up north?
Later, someone covered her, half asleep, with a blanket and wedged her between piles of boxes in the back seat of the car.
She was floating on a leaky raft in the middle of Lake Ontario. Dad had told her to leave the farm and go to the North Pole. But she was lost. She couldn’t even see the sandy banks of the shoreline. Clinging to the raft, she rode up and down the huge waves.
When she woke up, she was lying on a bare mattress on top of a table in a strange room.
“Where’s Dad?” Bonnie asked her mum, who was now busy unpacking one of the utility cupboards by the light of a coal-oil lamp.
“Oh, he’ll be here soon. He brought us and all the breakables in the car first. After he helped unload the cattle truck, he went back with the driver.”
“Without us?”
“He just went along to meet your uncle with the horses. Your dad is driving them here now while Elvin goes home with the truck driver. It’s been a long walk for those horses today. They set out early yesterday and now here it is, coming on three a.m.; so your dad’ll have to take this last stretch pretty slowly. Still, he’ll be along soon.”
Just then a faint melody broke the silence.
“…she’ll be comin’ round the mountain when she comes! She’ll be ridin’ six wh
ite horses when she comes…” It was Dad, singing that silly song that Mum disliked.
But her mother looked happy. She rushed to throw open the front door. It was only a few feet from Bonnie’s table-bed. He’d found his way safely over the dark countryside and was coming across the field.
Bonnie lay back on her pillow and was soon sound asleep again.
TWO: NEW NEIGHBOURS
The late-September light filtered through the north window and woke Bonnie up from her second sleep. The nightmares were gone. She could hear the sound of blue jays squabbling beyond the yard. She tumbled off her table-bed and weaved her way between stacked furniture and boxes over to the window to investigate. Father had said there would be a small apple orchard, a garden, and a splendid grassy dooryard.
Only two scraggly apple trees were in sight. Nothing like the beautiful orchards in Prince Edward County! The lawn was a mess of goldenrod and wild grass. The grass was so long in some places, it waved in the breeze. Bonnie turned her back on the window and pressed down her wrinkled navy blue skirt and white blouse. She hated her warm wool stockings. They were so furry looking. No one but Bonnie had to wear long wool stockings this early, but her mother was always afraid she would “take a chill.” She scratched one leg and sighed.
“You strip that side and I’ll do this side,” came a strange voice from another room.
“Fine, Mrs. Elmhirst, I’ll do that,” said Mum. “I’m glad Bonnie’s having a good long sleep. It was a tough night, and I’d rather not have her wandering in before we finish this room. She’s always been a curious child. I don’t want her to pick up any germs.”
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