Racing Home

by Adele Dueck

  “I didn’t want Leif drinking slough water.” Olaf looked embarrassed as he carried a coil of rope to the well.

  “See now,” said Charlie. “We’re going to drill this into the dirt at the bottom of the well. If there’s water within ten feet, we’ll find it. If not, we add another ten foot section and try again.”

  He tied the rope onto the auger and dropped it slowly down the well, then hooked the lantern onto his overall straps and lowered himself onto Rolf’s rope ladder. Erik and Olaf crouched down to watch.

  “Do you need me down there?” asked Olaf.

  “Too crowded.”

  Erik longed to ask Olaf what the man would charge and who would pay for it, but all he could think was how wonderful it would be if they found water.

  In the light from the lantern, Erik saw Charlie turn the crank, digging his test drill into the floor of the well. After a few minutes, Charlie pulled out the auger, inspected the dirt it had brought up, then twisted it back down. The third time he cranked the drill back into the well, he hollered, “Hey, Olaf. You better lower down another section of the drill.”

  Erik’s heart sank as Olaf pulled up the rope to tie on the second length of metal.

  The man at the bottom pulled out the auger and looked at it again.

  “Forget that,” he called. “We’ve got it.”

  Erik met Olaf’s eyes. He was surprised to see joy that matched his own. Olaf dropped the rope back down to bring up the test drill.

  When Charlie got up, he set the lantern down on the ground and pulled a handful of damp soil out of his pocket. Erik reached out and touched the soil. It felt cold and wet – dripping wet.

  “So there’s really water down there.”

  “I ’spect there is,” said the man. “That’s how the dirt got wet.”

  “So we have to dig that much more?” Erik looked at the auger. From the dirt showing in the curves of the drill, he was guessing they needed to go at least three more metres.

  “We’ll let Gertrude and Sam do it,” said the man. “They’re quick, you just watch.”

  Behind him, Erik heard the door of the house open. “Erik,” said his mother, “I need more water –” She stopped when she saw Olaf and the other man.

  “Hallo, Olaf,” she said, switching to her stilted English out of courtesy to the stranger. “I not see you.”

  Olaf coloured faintly and introduced Inga and Charlie. “He’s going to find water in your well,” he added.

  “Water good,” she said hesitantly, “but money… not good.”

  Charlie jerked his head toward Olaf. “It’s on his tab,” he said. “Now I gotta work if we’re gettin’ this well dug.”

  “Don’t worry about the cost,” Olaf said hurriedly in Norwegian. “I’m taking care of that.”

  Her face lit up. “Olaf, you are a dear son.” She threw her arms around him and leaned her head against his chest. Olaf’s arms came up, and for a brief moment he returned her hug.

  “It’s for Leif,” Olaf said.

  “And a dear brother.” Then, turning to Erik, she added, “Bring in a few more pails of water, Erik, then you and Elsa can watch them drill.”

  By the time Erik got back to the well, the tripod had been replaced by an elaborate drilling apparatus. It turned as Charlie’s horses walked in a circle around the well. Periodically, Charlie went down the well, sending up pails of dirt. To keep the soil from piling up, Erik and Olaf emptied the pails in the firebreak on the other side of the yard. Elsa got bored after a while, and went to check the progress of the garden before going back to the house, but Erik stayed outside, helping to build the cribbing while the horses turned the drill.

  When noon came, Inga invited them in to eat, but Charlie refused. “Gotta get this done,” he said, “but thank you.”

  Inga brought out bread and cheese to eat as they worked, and they kept going all afternoon.

  “Good thing the horses can rest while Charlie scoops out the dirt,” said Elsa in the early evening.

  Erik brought water from the slough to the horses. “They’ve worked hard today.”

  “Vanne! Vanne!” Olaf yelled, holding a pail high. “Water! We have water!”

  Erik and Elsa ran to Olaf, followed a moment later by Inga from the house, clutching Leif.

  “Is it true?” Elsa cried.

  “Oh, it’s true enough,” said Charlie. He crawled out of the well and headed for his horses, his boots leaving wet prints on the ground.

  “We’ll go a bit further to get out more dirt,” he said, “but you’ve definitely got yourself a well.” He drilled a while longer, then descended into the well to send up pails of mud and water and install the final section of cribbing.

  When Charlie came up the last time, a huge grin split his face. “You just let that sit till tomorrow so the dirt settles and the water comes in.” He slapped Olaf on the back, then started dismantling his equipment, piling it back on the wagon.

  Erik noticed Olaf glancing around as he harnessed the horses to the wagon. Watching his face, Erik knew the exact moment Rolf walked into the yard.

  “Good evening,” said Rolf, holding his hand out to Charlie. “I’m Rolf Hanson.”

  “Charlie Briggs,” said Charlie. “Looks like you’ve got a good well here. I could hardly climb out fast enough!”

  “Well?” repeated Rolf, mystified. He walked over to the open hole and peered down, though Erik doubted he could see anything without a light at the bottom.

  Erik waited for Olaf to say something, but soon saw he wasn’t going to.

  “Olaf hired Mr. Briggs to dig the well,” said Erik. “He went down about three more metres and hit water.”

  Rolf stared at Olaf.

  “Why don’t we drop a pail and see what we bring up?” said Charlie. He grabbed the rope they’d used for lowering the auger and Erik handed him a pail. Everyone watched as Charlie lowered the pail, pulling it up a moment later half full of water.

  “It’s fillin’ fast,” said Charlie.

  Elsa ran to the house for a cup. Charlie filled it and handed it to Rolf.

  Rolf accepted the tin cup with a nod. He took a sip and handed it to Inga who’d come out with Elsa. She tasted it, then Erik and Elsa each had a sip.

  Elsa squinched up her face. “It tastes dirty,” she said.

  “It’ll settle out,” said Charlie. “Just give it time.”

  “Good water,” said Rolf, his voice cracking. “Thank you, Olaf. This is a wonderful gift.”

  “I did it for Leif,” said Olaf. He turned to the wagon, shoving a piece of wood to the side, then putting it back where it had been. He glanced over his shoulder at Rolf, then shifted his glance quickly to Charlie. “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure thing,” said Charlie. “Thanks for the food, Mrs. Hanson,” he said. “That bread was sure good.”

  Rolf shook his hand again. “Thank you, many thanks.”

  He took a step toward Olaf, but Olaf slipped around the side of the wagon and climbed up.

  No one spoke till the wagon was out of sight.

  “We need something on the top,” said Elsa.

  “Ja,” said Rolf. “A well head.”

  Erik glanced at Rolf. He looked completely overwhelmed by what had happened. They had a well, and all because of Olaf, the son who wouldn’t speak to him!

  Erik picked up a board. “I’ll cover it for now.”

  “Wait!” said Inga. “Let’s get more water first.”

  No one moved as Erik brought up another pail of water, their gift from Olaf.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Threat

  The next time Erik saw Olaf, he was riding into their yard on Tapper.“So what do you think of my horse now?” Olaf asked.

  “If he can carry someone as heavy as you on his back, he must be healed.” Erik stroked Tapper, the dark brown coat warm and shiny beneath his hand. Though he could see some scars, most were hidden under the saddle.

  “Do you want to ride him?�
�

  “I sure do,” said Erik. “Right now, do you mean?”

  Olaf shrugged. “It’s as good a time as any.” He dismounted and handed Erik the reins.

  Putting his left foot in the stirrup and grabbing the saddle horn, Erik pulled himself up and swung his right leg over Tapper’s back.

  Tapper pranced in a circle, aware that his rider had changed. Erik pulled on the reins to hold him still.

  “Take him for a run,” Olaf suggested, giving Tapper a smart slap on his hindquarters. “See what the boy can do.”

  “I don’t –” Erik began, but didn’t finish as Tapper broke into a gallop. Erik clenched the reins in one hand and grabbed Tapper’s mane with the other.

  “Slow down,” Erik yelled in Norwegian. Tapper, despite his Norwegian name, didn’t understand. He ran as if chased by the wildcat that had attacked him.

  Erik forced himself to take a breath and straighten slightly. After a moment he even looked around. They had almost reached the slough with the saskatoon berries and he hadn’t fallen off yet. Maybe he wouldn’t!

  He felt the reins in his hand and gave them a tug, pulling slightly to the left. To his relief, Tapper slowly began turning. Erik tugged harder. He felt Tapper slow down as they crossed a field of wheat, centimetres tall and bright green.

  By the time they reached Olaf, Tapper was walking, his coat shiny with sweat.

  “So what do you think?” asked Olaf. He took the reins from Erik’s unresisting hands.

  “He likes to run,” breathed Erik. He slid down from the saddle, not sure if his legs would hold him. “I’m not used to that!”

  “Me, neither,” admitted Olaf. He stroked Tapper’s neck. “I can’t wait to see how fast he can go when he’s completely recovered!”

  “You think he’ll go faster?” asked Erik incredulously.

  “I don’t know. I’m looking forward to finding out.”

  Erik picked up the spade he’d been using and leaned on it for support. “You could have warned me!” he said.

  Olaf grinned. “I didn’t know what he would do, not for sure!”

  Erik eyed Olaf skeptically. “You were hoping he’d throw me,” he said.

  Olaf shook his head unconvincingly.

  “Want to come in the house?” asked Erik. “For coffee?” When he saw Olaf hesitate, he added quickly, “You need to try our new water!”

  “I guess I do.” Olaf put Tapper in the corral and followed Erik into the house.

  Elsa was flopped on her stomach on the bed, teaching Leif to clap his hands.

  “Olaf!” she exclaimed. “Come see how smart our brother is!”

  Olaf crouched beside the bed, extending a finger for Leif to grab. The baby’s hair was coming in red, like his father’s. And Olaf’s.

  “He’s going to look like you,” Inga said, setting aside her handwork and rising. “He has your eyes.”

  “You think so?” said Olaf, and Erik thought he was pleased.

  With more than fifty businesses and dozens of homes in Green Valley, the town decided to celebrate with a Dominion Day picnic.

  On the days that Elsa and Erik walked to school, they saw the preparation work in progress. A half-mile racetrack was laid out near the railroad station, with bleachers for five hundred people rising beside it. A baseball diamond was planned for the centre of the racetrack, and the football field would be to the east.

  “Will there be enough people to fill those seats?” Elsa asked one day.

  “I don’t know where they will come from,” said Erik. “There aren’t five hundred people in the area.”

  Kirsten had invited the family to a birthday supper for Lars, so Erik and Elsa didn’t go home after school. Elsa went to Sara’s house and Erik walked with Colin to Pete’s livery stable to pay for boarding the O’Briens’ horses.

  “It would be better if we had a barn of our own to keep them in,” Colin confided. “Da is not always sure they feed the horses what they say they do.”

  “If he thinks Pete is not honest, why does he keep your horses there?” Erik asked.

  Colin shrugged. “He charges less than the other livery stable.”

  Erik nodded. Saving money was something he understood.

  Erik looked around curiously. He’d walked by sometimes when the wide front door was open, but this was the first time he’d been inside. The horses faced the wall, their tails flicking at flies. Every stall was filled; some even had two horses. Some of the horses turned their heads and nickered when the boys walked past. Erik walked slowly, admiring the horses, noting the brands on their hindquarters. Most common was the Boxed Q. He guessed it must be Pete’s own brand. None had the same brand as Tapper, the Bar C.

  At the end of the centre alley, Erik followed Colin through a door into the back room that Olaf had mentioned. Several men played cards at a table. A tall bottle stood on a side table and a couple more on the floor. Money was scattered on the table, more money than Erik had ever seen in one place.

  One of the men stood up when the boys walked in. Erik guessed he was Pete. Older than the other men, he had long brown hair and a scar across his face, partly hidden by his beard. He smiled at the boys, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

  Colin handed him the money his father had given him. Pete counted it carefully and nodded his head at Colin. “That’s good for one more week.”

  “Da said to get a receipt,” said Colin quickly.

  “A receipt?” repeated Pete. He laughed shortly. “All right, then.” He went to a desk against one wall and pulled a paper out of a drawer. He dipped his pen in the ink, then wrote something on the paper. Without waiting for the ink to dry, he handed it to Colin. Colin glanced at the paper and nodded his head.

  “Thank you.” He turned to the door, holding the paper carefully.

  “Good doing business with you.”

  One of the men at the table looked up from his cards and Erik recognized Olaf’s friend Jim. Erik nodded, but Jim looked at him as if they’d never met.

  After dropping the receipt at Colin’s house, they walked down to the river through the valley of trees. The water in the river was high and moving quickly. They walked along the shoreline, tossing stones into the rushing water, climbing partway up the hill when there was no room to walk between the water and the brush.

  Colin scrambled over a fallen tree trunk and started grabbing at short, sturdy plants, pulling himself up a cliff. Erik walked along the fallen trunk as far as he could, then followed Colin. Once at the top they collapsed on the grass and looked out over the river.

  “They want to put a ferry there,” said Erik, looking south down the river to where the shore was sloped more gradually. “Then people from that side of the river could buy in Uncle’s store.”

  “Sometimes people ford the river,” said Colin. “They drive across right through the water.”

  “Not today,” said Erik. “A horse couldn’t walk the river today. Or swim, either.”

  As he spoke, he heard the whinny of a horse. There were no horses to be seen, not in the water or anywhere else, but Erik knew sounds could carry a long way on a day like this without any wind.

  The boys walked along the top of the hills, following a valley, until they looked down on the weathered shack and the corral Erik had seen in the fall. Now it held at least twenty horses.

  “Nice horses,” said Erik. They scrambled down to the bottom of the coulee. There was no sign of people.

  “This is strange,” said Colin, his voice hushed. “It doesn’t look like a farm.”

  “And what farmer has so many horses?” asked Erik. He wanted to go up to the horses, but something told him that this wasn’t a good place to be.

  He heard the sound of hooves and, grabbing Colin’s arm, pulled him down behind a clump of bushes.

  Peeking through the screen of branches, they saw two horses and riders come into the valley from the south. The men unsaddled their horses and put them in the corral with the others.

  The do
or of the shack opened and a man came out, stretching and yawning.

  “So how are things in town?” he asked.

  “Hoppin’,” replied one of the men. “Pete wants us to get the rest of these branded.”

  “I thought he was waiting for his pal from Montana to do it.”

  “Not any more.” The three men leaned against the top rail of the corral. Their voices carried easily to where Erik and Colin were hiding.

  “He says horses are turning over so fast, he doesn’t want to wait.”

  “That’s right,” said the third man. “He’s planning to send us to Saskatoon with a few. We should be able to sell them quickly, then we’ll go south and find us some more.”

  “You got the coffee pot on?”

  “I surely do.”

  “Well, then, what are we doing talking out here when we could be drinking coffee in there?”

  The three men laughed and walked into the shack.

  “I wish Rolf would sell our oxen and buy two horses,” said Erik.

  “Those aren’t field horses,” said Colin. “I’m not even a farmer and I know that. Those horses are for riding and pulling buggies.”

  “Like Tapper.” They both went to see Tapper whenever they could, finding him in the corral at the edge of town or sometimes in the stable at the lumberyard. Erik had ridden Tapper again a few times, always faster than he wanted to go.

  Erik looked wistfully at the horses for a moment, then stood up. “We better go. It must be close to suppertime.”

  On the last day of June, Erik moved the manure pile from beside the chicken hutch, where he’d heaped it over the winter, to nearer the garden where it would be ready to use when rotted.

  It was a breezy day, sunny but not too hot. A good day for working outside, or it would be if he didn’t want to do something else. Anything else, really.

  Rolf was out with the oxen breaking more land. Erik would need them to move the manure, but he thought that he and Elsa could push the empty wagon over to the pile so he could get started.

  On his way to the house to get Elsa, he glanced toward the trail. A rider was approaching in a cloud of dust. Erik smiled, knowing it had to be Olaf – no one else went from one place to another that quickly.