No Small Victory

by Connie Brummel Crook

  At last, her mother said, “Operator, this is an emergency! Please connect me to Dr. Wright!”

  Bonnie sighed with relief. Mum had gotten through to the operator, but would she get the doctor? And who would get through the snowbanks to help?

  Finally, Mum said, “It’s an emergency, Doctor. My husband’s been bitten by a sow. I can’t get the bleeding to stop.” Then she paused. “No, it’s not excessive, but it’s still flowing.”

  Bonnie slipped off her boots and rushed to the couch. She grabbed a cushion and, holding up her father’s head, slid it under. Mum was still talking but Bonnie wasn’t listening. She could only hear her father’s low moans.

  “Thanks…,” Dad mumbled. Bonnie knelt beside him now. She forced herself to look down at the towel under his leg. The red spot was spreading out. Bonnie shivered.

  Then Mum knelt beside them. “Dr. Wright’s on his way. A farmer’s bringing him.”

  “I doubt…if a sleigh can…” said Dad.

  “Yes, he will get through. We’ll trust God to answer our prayers,” said Mum.

  Mum got another clean towel and held it tightly over the wound. “Bonnie! Fill the big pan with water. Put it on the front of the stove. And the teakettle, too.”

  Bonnie hurried to follow her mother’s orders.

  “Now, Bonnie, take the oilcloth off the table. Can you get the extra table leaves to make the table long?”

  Bonnie had to struggle to pull the table apart in order to set the leaves in place. She tried to be quick, but the leaves were heavy and awkward. At last, she got the final leaf in place and pushed against one end of the table. “They’re all together,” she panted. “But I can’t get them to fit tight.”

  “That’s all right. Later, we’ll push them fast together. Now, I want you to fill the sink with hot water from the reservoir and pour some Lysol into it. Then, wash down the table with the Lysol water. Make sure you cover every inch. And wash your hands.”

  “Uggghhh,” Dad was groaning more now. “I’d like to lie on the couch.”

  “No,” said Mum. “Dr. Wright said you are to stay where you are. You must stay still. He told me to keep this cloth firmly on the wound to stop the bleeding.”

  “Is it working?” asked Bonnie as she pushed the Lysol-drenched cloth across the table.

  “Look, it’s easing up.” But Bonnie couldn’t stand to look at her father anymore.

  When Bonnie had finished with the table, her mother said, “Take off your dad’s boots, but do it gently—start with his good leg.”

  “Bonnie…be careful,” Dad groaned.

  “Oh, Dad, I will. I promise. I’ll be so careful.” Bonnie’s heart was beating very fast. She could hardly stand the smell of the blood. Her father’s face was very pale now, and he groaned when Bonnie pulled the boot and sock off his bad leg.

  Now all they could do was wait.

  Bonnie got up and went to the window. How much longer would it take before the doctor showed? It was taking forever. Even the clock was moving slowly.

  It was now five o’clock—suppertime in the winter. It had grown almost dark. Only the fire from the kitchen stove illuminated the room faintly.

  “We’re going to need stronger light when the doctor comes,” said her mother. “Light two of the coal-oil lamps. Make sure the glass shade is clean and the wick trimmed straight across so that it’ll give a good light. Be careful and don’t hurry. Put one on top of the buffet and one by the pantry window.” Bonnie lit a candle first to light her way to the shelf of lamps.

  She had just finished when Boots started to bark.

  “Let them in,” said Mum.

  Bonnie hurried out onto the verandah, and there was Dr. Wright climbing off the sleigh with his black bag. A tall, thick-set man whom she’d not seen before was tying his horses to the gate post.

  The doctor rushed past her and into the house. Bonnie waited for the driver and followed him inside.

  Dr. Wright had knelt beside her father and was examining his leg. “Clancy,” he said, “we’ll have to put him on the table. Nasty cuts—all three of them. He needs quite a few stitches. You did well, Mrs. Brown. You stopped the bleeding and got the table ready. Lots of boiled water, too, I trust.”

  “Uhhh,” said Dad, when the doctor and his friend lifted him up and onto the table. “UHHHHH! Hurtin’ terrible, Doc.”

  The doctor took a pair of scissors from his bag and cut the pant leg back. “Might just as well cut the pant leg clean around,” said Mum. “I can sew it back on again.”

  Dad was still moaning.

  “I’ll soon stop your pain,” said the doctor. “I’ve brought a little anaesthesia. Here, Mrs. Brown, I’m going to let you help me. But first we must both wash our hands in this disinfectant. Bring me a pan of water.” Mum hurried back with the water and the doctor poured a little liquid from another bottle from his bag. “A little carbolic acid does the trick.”

  “Do you need me, Doc?” asked the farmer. Bonnie stared at the big man and saw he was looking as sickly as she felt.

  “Not till I’m ready to go home.”

  “I can look in on the cows,” he said.

  “The two…on the west end…aren’t milked yet,” said Dad.

  “I’ll see to it,” said the man, and he was gone.

  “Now, Thomas,” said Dr. Wright, who pulled out another bottle and a piece of fresh cloth, “just a whiff of this will put you to sleep and you won’t feel a thing till I’ve got you all sewed up. Then I’ll leave some pills to take away the pain when you wake up.”

  Crouched on the bottom step of the back stairs, Bonnie stared in silence, as the doctor gave Mum a face mask and put on one himself. He tipped a few drops from the bottle onto the cloth, which he’d laid over Dad’s nose.

  “You may need to do this for me before I finish,” he said. Mum nodded.

  Then a sickening smell filled the room. Bonnie gagged and backed up the stairs. She had to get away, but she left the door open in case Mum called her.

  Bonnie sat shivering on the stool by her bed. After what seemed like a very long time, she heard the farmer’s voice downstairs.

  Then she heard the doctor’s voice at the bottom of the stairs. “His bed’s the place for him for the next few days. Glad you’re here to help me, Clancy.”

  Bonnie darted into Mum and Dad’s room and pulled back the sheets so that they could lay Dad down. “Good girl,” said Mum, looking at the ready bed before ushering the men in.

  The men came out quickly and headed down the stairs again with Mum behind, saying, “I feel awful to have brought you out on Christmas Day. And will you please start an account for us? I’m so sorry, but we don’t have the money right now to pay you.”

  “No hurry at all,” said the doctor. “And you know, Mrs. Brown, you would have made a good nurse.”

  “I always wanted to be a nurse,” said Mum, “but—”

  The hall door closed and Bonnie could hear only a mumble from below. She tiptoed back to the bedroom and stared down at her father’s stone-white face. She choked back a sob.

  Then she heard Mum scampering up the stairs. “Is the woodbox full?” she asked. “We’re going to need to keep that stovepipe hot all night.” It was Bonnie’s chore to carry in wood from the woodhouse to the box behind the stove. It was especially important for it to be full at night.

  “I’ll put out some extra, too, on the pantry floor,” Bonnie said as she ran down the stairs.

  When Bonnie finished, she came back up to her parents’ room. Her father was covered high with quilts.

  “Is he all right, Mum?” Bonnie asked. “He’s still so pale.”

  “Oh, yes. He’ll be fine. It’s the anaesthesia. It makes folks look like that. But look, there’s a little colour creeping back into his cheeks. Go warm up the turnips for supper. And make your dad a cup of coffee with lots of sugar in it. He might like a few sips when he wakes up.”

  When Bonnie came back later, Dad was awake.

  �
�It’s paining…bad.”

  “Those pills will work soon,” Mum said. “Just lie still so that you keep them down. Now, I need to check out things in the barn.”

  “Let that sow alone for tonight,” said Dad. “I always take my pitchfork when I feed her. But today, I was hurrying and forgot. But feed the horses. And the cows will need some hay thrown down.”

  “Oh, I’ll stay clear of that sow—never fear that!” Mum said. “Now, Bonnie’s going to sit right here beside you. She’s got coffee for you. It’s sweetened and will give you a little strength.”

  “I can’t take a thing.”

  “Well, Bonnie’s here if you need anything.”

  Mum hurried away and Bonnie sank down onto the bedside stool.

  “Dad…I’m so glad you’re all right. I only wish…I could have given you something for Christmas. I could make something. You didn’t get any presents at all and then…this happens.” Bonnie was starting to sniffle.

  “Don’t fret, Bonnie. You were a great help. Doing all those things for me…taking off my boots, getting the table ready.”

  “You were in so much pain. I didn’t think you knew what was happening.”

  “Oh, yes. Now your mother is going to need you even more before I’m on my feet again.”

  “Yes, yes, Dad. I’ll try my best.”

  “That’s my girl,” said Dad and reached out his hand to place on top of Bonnie’s. Then he closed his eyes and was asleep. But he didn’t look so pale anymore and Bonnie could see he was breathing gently.

  Bonnie sat very still. She supposed this was their worst Christmas day but it had ended all right. Dad was going to be fine. Mum had found Bonnie a help—for once! And Dad had called her “my girl” again like he used to when she was little. And the doctor had made it over those enormous snowbanks to help Dad.

  Things could have been a whole lot worse.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Whoever could that be?” said Mum as she stepped briskly to the front of the house and turned the handle on the door.

  It was late Monday morning, three days after Christmas, and someone was knocking on the front door. When Mum opened it, Bonnie could hardly believe her eyes. It was Grandpa O’Carr—Mum’s father. His brown eyes were beaming from under his thick, snow-covered eyebrows, and his raccoon cap and coat were covered with snow.

  “Grandpa!” shouted Bonnie rushing over and putting her arms around her grandfather’s coat. He was just like a big, round Santa Claus.

  He smiled and patted Bonnie’s head. “I’ve got something for you in my car, young lady!”

  Bonnie beamed.

  “Well, Dad O’Carr,” said her father, limping over behind Mum. “What a wonderful surprise! But how did you manage to get through? Seems the countryside is snowbound from Belleville to the North Pole!” The snow had stopped coming down on Christmas Day, but all roads weren’t ploughed out yet.

  “Well, the main roads are fine now, but these side ones are treacherous. I had to be careful. Good thing this old farmer can still afford a dependable car. It’s parked at the road. I opened your gate but didn’t start across that unploughed field.”

  “Come closer to the fire, Dad, and I’ll put on the kettle,” Mum urged.

  “In a minute. I’ve got the car to unload and no time to waste—I have to leave by mid-afternoon to get back before the next storm hits. This sure is the land of hills, trees, and snow!”

  “Now, Dad. I told you we need nothing,” Mum said. “We’re doing just fine.”

  Grandpa O’Carr looked around at the cosy room. In spite of the cold outside, it was warm and cheerful. He nodded with satisfaction. “I can see that, but your mother cooked up a storm and you’re entitled to your share. The main part of my load is that old chicken incubator we pulled out of the attic. I thought we’d never need it again, but you know your mother. She’s the original pack rat. And this time, she was right to save the thing.”

  Mum’s eyes brightened. “The chicken incubator? That’s wonderful! I’ll hatch eggs nearer to spring and then I’ll have chickens next year and eggs to sell. It sure will be nice to have a few cents of my own to spend.”

  “And eggs for baking—don’t forget that,” Grandpa said. “But now, come out and hitch up your horses to the sleigh, Thomas. We need to haul the incubator up to the house!”

  “I’m afraid he can’t, Dad. He was wounded by that sow of ours on Christmas Day. I’ve been doing the chores since. I started to phone you but decided we could manage.”

  “Say no more. I’ll hook up the team and fetch the things in. My car will have to be all right out by the road.”

  “I’m going with you,” said Mum. “I can’t wait to ask about everyone.”

  Bonnie watched out the window as they disappeared between the five-foot banks of snow on their way to the barn.

  Bonnie was peeling a big turnip when a great clattering broke out at the front door. She plunked her peeling knife on the counter and rushed across the dining room to the front hall. A big gust of snow blew in through the door, and with it came Grandpa, Mum, and a big wood-and-metal thing.

  “Where do you want me to set up this contraption, Amy?” Grandpa asked.

  “In the front room,” said Mum, shivering.

  “Right you are…. Good thing the incubator will make its own heat.”

  Standing on the parlour floor, the incubator was almost as tall as Mum. Dad then went back to the front verandah and carried in a couple of smaller cardboard boxes. He was getting around fine in the house now, and planned today to start helping with the chores.

  Grandpa O’Carr quickly unpacked the packages.

  “Good. None of them broke,” he said as he set together a couple of lamps and chimneys. “You’ll need these for sure. This room is as cold as a block of ice!” He smiled at Bonnie, who was watching with fascination, and motioned her to come closer. “Look!” He pulled out two trays just above the lamps. “We put the eggs in here. The lamps keep them warm and after a while, they hatch into fluffy little chicks.”

  Dad limped in with another armload of parcels. Bonnie took a basket from him and set it down on the hall table. She peeked under the fresh white cloth on top and nearly fell over with glee. The basket was filled to the brim with Grandma O’Carr’s baking—cake, cookies, candy! What a feast! She scurried back to the kitchen so that no one would know she had been peeking.

  Bonnie had just finished chopping up turnips when Grandpa O’Carr brought in another armload, which he set on the dining room table. Dad was still outside, bringing in the last of the gifts, and Mum was in the pantry with her back to the dining room. So Bonnie was the only one looking when Grandpa unwrapped the biggest parcel. Bonnie gasped with delight. It was one of Grandma’s big red hams!

  “Wow!” she said. “We haven’t had—” She stopped and looked at Mum’s back bent over the bread she was slicing.

  “Don’t you worry,” Grandpa O’Carr said in a low voice. “I know you haven’t had ham for a long time. That’s why Grandma sent a big one! And look…there are some old bones in this bag for your new dog.”

  “Thank you, Grandpa! Boots will be so happy—all he gets is mash, usually. Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  Bonnie wished she could open the other parcels right away. But she knew she would just have to wait till Mum said it was the right time.

  “These eggs aren’t good for frying or boiling anymore,” Grandpa told Mum, “but stored in a box full of sand in the cellar, they would keep well enough for baking for quite a while.”

  So Bonnie and Mum went down to the cellar to bury the eggs in the sand. Just as Bonnie was heading back to the cellar steps, she looked up at the beams holding up the floor above. There she saw one of those snakes. This one even flicked its tongue at her. Disgusted, Bonnie ran up the stairs. She hoped Mum would do the fetching after this.

  Grandpa said, “Oh, yes. I’ve something else for you, Bonnie. Your Grandma Brown sent it to us in the mail. She was afraid the m
ail would not reach you in all this snow.”

  “She’s right,” said Mum. “No mail since last Monday, but thank goodness the phone’s been working. What with the snow and holiday and all…”

  Bonnie tore open the red wrapping paper. “Anne of Green Gables!” she exclaimed. “Oh! Thank you, Grandpa!” She barely noticed the new pair of socks dropping to the floor.

  “That’s not from us,” Grandpa reminded Bonnie. “Look for a note inside.”

  “Well, thanks, for bringing it! I’ve wanted this book for soooo long.”

  Bonnie soon found the note.

  Dearest Bonnie,

  I was fortunate enough to meet Mrs. McDonald, alias L.M.

  Montgomery, when I was invited to tea with a group of authors in Belleville. After her talk, I went right up and asked her to autograph this book for you. She is a very gracious lady.

  Love you as always, my dear one,

  Grandma Brown

  xxxxxxxxooooooo

  P.S. As you can see, these socks are for your dad!

  “Ohhhhh!” said Bonnie in awe as she flipped a page to find the signature. She hugged the book closely.

  And poor Dad had a gift, too.

  ELEVEN: AN ICY ADVENTURE

  One early February morning, school was dismissed for first recess a little before the usual 10:30, and Bonnie rushed to get her brown woollen coat. In the cloakroom, she bumped right into Marianne and Angela.

  “Let’s go sliding on the pond across the road,” said Marianne, pushing a wisp of her fair hair under her red wool cap. “There’ll be lots of time.”

  Recess was supposed to be only fifteen minutes long, but Mr. McDougall had started giving them extra time. He said it was because it was too stuffy in the schoolhouse and the pupils needed lots of fresh air. Today, he was busy putting history notes on the blackboard; everyone hoped recess would be really long.

  Marianne grabbed Angela’s arm. “C’mon, Angela!” Then Marianne turned to Bonnie. “Let’s go slide on the pond in front of the town hall.”

  Snowstorms had come so steadily that winter that there hadn’t been too many times the ice pond was clear enough for a slide, but there was a breeze today. Perhaps, it would be clear. If not, maybe they could push the snow away.