by Jean Little
It is amazing though. There are only a few survivors who were seriously injured by the Slide. Doctors and nurses came, expecting there would be many wounded people needing to be cared for, but there weren’t.
I should get back to telling some of the other things that happened the night Turtle Mountain walked. I think that is not the right word to use, but no word quite fits. Most of the mountain is still there, looming over the town, but with one side all tumbled down.
They’re saying that millions of tons of rock came down on the mine site. And there are still gigantic blocks of stone standing up like monuments, and hundreds of smaller broken-off pieces and thousands of even smaller bits. The largest rocks are taller than a house.
Friday, May 8, 1903
I want to write down some of the other stories about people. Stories are better than facts about how many tons of stone hurtled down.
I could start with the most astounding of all. The Leitches’ little girl, Marian, was asleep in her bed when the Slide hit. Somehow the blast sent her flying through the window, leaving behind their flattened house. Six people in her family were killed but two of her sisters survived. They say she landed on a pile of hay. I am not quite sure how it looked with her perched on the hay, but it is incredible. When people found her, she wasn’t crying or hurt, but still very much alive.
Someone told Aunt Susan that when they first spotted her, she was actually smiling. She and Gladys Ennis are both so little and yet they both lived through the Frank Slide!
Then there is Mr. Choquette, who stopped the express train and saved the lives of all the passengers. He and another man realized there was no way to warn the incoming train’s engineer, with the telegraph lines to the east being down and the railway tracks buried under a mass of fallen rocks. It must have seemed that getting word through was impossible. But Mr. Choquette started clambering over the rocks in the darkness. Thinking of the people on the incoming train, asleep and being carried to their deaths, was so terrible that he had to try.
The other man could not make it through, but Mr. Chouquette kept struggling on and finally he got to where he could wave his arms to warn the engineer to put on the brakes in time. Mr. Choquette said he almost gave up, but he knew passengers were coming toward Frank with no idea what had happened up the track. It only took about half an hour, but he said when he realized that, he could not believe it. He thought he had struggled on over the rocks forever.
It gives me the shivers to think of those travellers peacefully sleeping as the express train chugged along, carrying them through the darkness to their death. When I first learned about heroes, I wondered if I would ever meet one. Well, now I know the answer. I have met one. He is Mr. Choquette.
Later
I wrote a letter to Miss Radcliffe today. I don’t know how it will reach her, with the rail lines still buried. But she must be filled with worry about us, so I wrote to tell her we are all fine. I didn’t want to worry her about John’s hurt back. I also told her that Olivia and Jeremiah are engaged.
I get so tired of writing everything down, but somehow I feel bound to do it even though I’m kept busy tending to Davy or helping with John. I feel like a historian.
There are other stories of lucky escapes.
John Thornley, the shoemaker who resoled my boots and made Davy his first shoes, persuaded his sister Ellen to stay overnight at the Frank Hotel with him. If he hadn’t, she would have gone home and died with the rest of their family. He told Aunt Susan that he has no idea why he talked her into staying over. He believes there must be a reason why he and his sister were spared while the rest of their family perished. He went on about it for so long that Aunt Susan finally told him to stop fretting — he would learn the answer in God’s good time. She sounded so practical that it calmed him down.
But why did Mary Ruth and the rest of Jeremiah’s family have to die? I wanted to shout this question at Aunt Susan. The great slabs of the mountain that still stand are too big to be moved, but they stand as reminders of the tragedy. At last count, seventy-six people have been killed, and dozens are still missing. Whole families died in less than two minutes.
Babies. I can’t bear to remember the babies. Eleven children died. Aunt Susan says it is a comfort to realize that not one of them knew anything was wrong before they died, since it was all over in seconds. I am not comforted by this.
In the first days after the Slide, I tried to stay close to Mother. I knew such a disaster could not happen again, but just in case I was wrong, I did not want to be caught some place where I could not reach her.
Bedtime
They say we will be returning to town tomorrow or maybe the next day. I will be so glad to be home again even though we will have to face the wreckage around us.
So much else has changed since the day I first wrote in this notebook. Olivia knows now that she actually loves Davy, although she still is squeamish about keeping him clean. And she’s engaged to Jeremiah. He’s learning to use crutches so that he can walk down the aisle with his new wife at their wedding.
Polly has spoken a few words at last. She is still weak and gets things muddled up sometimes. Still, if she is well enough, she will be the flower girl.
Saturday, May 9, 1903
As our world slowly returns to normal, I find my mind going back to what John let out about the beginning of my life. I must ask Mother to tell me whatever she can about the day I was brought to her. I must. Yet I cannot seem to do it. Bringing up something that happened such a long time ago is not easy. I can’t think how to start. So I am waiting. I feel that I will know when the time comes.
Sunday, May 10, 1903
We are going home today. Bird and her mother will be coming back. I am so glad to be going home.
Later
Bird and her mother were already here when we got to the hotel. As soon as we were alone, Bird asked what had happened when I spoke to Mother about my being found long ago. When I admitted that I still had not asked, she was furious at me and told me that I should trust my mother. Anyway, she made me promise to ask her about it tomorrow. When I think about doing it, I feel afraid. No, that isn’t right. But anxious.
I wish I had not promised.
Bedtime
I did it! I coaxed Mother to come out for a walk and when we were far enough from the hotel not to be interrupted, I took a deep breath and plunged in.
“John told me about Grandpa finding me and bringing me to you. Why didn’t you tell me? What made you decide to keep me?”
Mother stood stock still for a second. Then she took my hand and kept walking without speaking. I thought maybe she was never going to tell me anything. But finally she said, “I know I should have talked to you about it long ago, Abby, but when I was free to do so, it was never the right moment.”
She stopped to take a breath and I thought I would burst. But I managed to keep still until she went on.
“It was simple, really,” she said, looking at me and then away. “From the moment my father put you into my arms, I loved you. And I couldn’t bear to let you go.”
She stopped speaking, searching for the right words again. I longed to shower her with questions, but I bit them back. Then she stopped walking and turned to face me.
She said that Father was off on a job when Grandpa brought me, so she had several days with me before Father came home. “By then, you were so dear to my heart that I could not give you up whatever he said,” Mother finished.
She hesitated.
“What did he say?” I prompted her.
“He was horrified that I had accepted a stray baby into our home without his consent,” she said. “He did his best to convince me that keeping you would somehow harm our own children, and he wanted to take you to a foundlings’ home, but I would not do it.” She explained that the only one she had seen was a bleak place, not fit for any child.
She stopped talking long enough to blow her nose, but I just kept still. I was learning my story at last and I wa
nted to hear more.
“You needed me so,” she went on at last. “To begin with, you clung to me like someone who is drowning, and in the night, you cried out with nightmares. You were also terribly thin and weak. So, when your father finished having his say, I insisted we must look after you until you recovered.”
Then she said, in a voice close to a whisper, “You did need me, but the truth is that I needed you, Abby. I was very lonely at that time …”
She broke off again and I longed to ask why. But at last she went on to tell me more about her battle with Father, and how he finally agreed she could keep me on condition that we never tell anyone how Grandpa found me, or even talk about it at home.
At that, my eyes burned with tears I knew would soon be rolling down my face. But I did not just want comforting. I wanted answers. She drew me over to one of the boulders left by the landslide and we sat down side by side.
She said that long before I arrived, she and Father had grown apart. He believed Mother was too soft with Olivia and John, and he took over toughening them up. “I could not have told you this while he lived, but now all that is behind us,” she said slowly. “When you were brought to me, though, he had come between me and Olivia and John. I needed your love desperately, and since you were not his daughter, Sam did not care if I spoiled you. You were all mine.”
“Oh, I’m glad,” I burst out.
She laughed.
“Since Sam had permitted me to keep you on condition that we all keep your coming to us a secret, I could not talk about it even with you,” she said. “Yet after his death I could have told you, of course. I think I would have done if I had not discovered then that we were practically penniless. After we worked our way through that, we moved west and … and the right moment never seemed to come.”
I took her hand and squeezed it and she smiled at me. Then she added, “I should have guessed that John would not wait, though, and I am so sorry.”
By then, I knew almost everything I had wondered about.
I did not tell her that before I had started to ask her my questions, I had asked Olivia what she remembered about my coming to be her sister. She had looked at me and laughed.
“Oh, I was so jealous,” she told me. “Father wasn’t home and I thought I might get all Mother’s attention with him away. Then Grandpa arrived with poor little you, wrapped up in a blanket and looking so pitiful. And Mother had no attention for an eight-year-old who could have been more help.”
Olivia said she sat on her bed and sulked until Father came home. “And then it was too late to change my tune,” she finished. “I’m sorry, little sister. Forgive me.”
And of course I did. And now Mother was saying the same thing.
We were on our way back to Four Winds, hand in hand, when I decided to ask one more question.
“Is my birthday really in September?” I asked her.
“I didn’t know for sure,” she told me, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a little drawstring bag and opened it. There was a ring inside it. She tipped it into my hand and went on.
“Ever since John confessed that he had broken his word, I’ve been carrying this ring with me. I knew the day must come that you would want to know more. I found this threaded on a cord around your neck. It was hidden from sight inside your dress. It’s a sapphire, the September birthstone. Also, you had come to me on September first, so I chose that to be your birthday. It was as though your mother had sent me a message.”
The ring was the most beautiful blue. I slid it onto my finger, but it was far too big.
“Do you remember her at all?” Mother asked softly.
I shook my head. I had tried ever since John told me the story of my being found. But no picture had come to me. I drew the beautiful ring off and tucked it back into the bag. Then I flung my arms around Mother’s neck and hugged her with all my might. I could not speak. I had too big a lump in my throat.
Mother hugged me back. “Oh, Abby, are you angry at me for not being able to face life without you?” she said into my ear.
I was not, of course. I held on tight and let the tears flow. We were both growing very damp.
“Angry!” I got out at last. “How could I be angry? I love you with my whole heart. All I want is to be your Abby.”
And I knew it was the truth.
Monday, May 11, 1903
When I told Bird that I had kept my promise, she was pleased with me, although she claimed she knew before I told her just by seeing the look on my face. I asked her to explain but she couldn’t.
I do like having most of my story written down, even though the first chapter is lost. It is strange knowing that I must have had a different name once upon a time. And another birthday. Maybe I had brothers and sisters too. I will never know.
But I have decided not to brood about this. I don’t want to be like John Thornley, constantly fretting about why this all happened.
Wednesday, May 13, 1903
Some people are leaving Frank. But not us. Anyway, we do not plan to leave. We will never be able to forget the night of the Slide, of course. We do still grieve for those we lost, but we have helped each other through the sorrow of it and now we are coming out of the shadow it cast, back into the sunlight. We think we will have people coming to the hotel just to see the devastation caused by the historic Frank Slide. We certainly still seem busy.
Some people who arrive climb up and stand on top of one of the boulders the landslide left behind. It’s so huge they look like dolls. We have to travel around it to get by.
I have decided that sad memories are like that massive rock. They wait to block our path. But we can get around them and go on past.
Monday, May 18, 1903
We hear that they are going to start mining again. I cannot believe it. But it is true. They say there is no danger of another landslide. I wonder what Bird’s grandfather would say. Bird says he is like a ghost now. She thinks he feels he should have made people listen to his warnings.
Wednesday, May 20, 1903
Mother and I took my mother’s ring over to the clockmaker’s shop. He’s a jeweller too. He says it will be easy to make the ring smaller to fit my finger. I can hardly wait to get it back and wear it.
Thursday, May 21, 1903
So much else has changed during the past weeks.
John has come to care more for us and to face the fact that Father was not the man he thought he was. He has also given up his job at the mine and is studying again to finish his high school subjects. Miss Wellington is tutoring him and Mother is so pleased about it. Miss Wellington says he should go to university. Mother said we had not the money, but Uncle Martin told her we would find it.
Although John was injured, and Jeremiah lost his leg, the people closest to me all survived. Polly seems to be recovering. Mother works with her at talking. It is not easy. But Polly does understand what Mother says even though she has to struggle to find words herself. She knows us all now and she is smiling again. The doctor says he thinks her memories will come back to her completely. She must not worry about this but just be patient.
I am nearing the end of this notebook. When I finish it, I will send it to Miss Radcliffe. She has promised to read it as soon as it gets to her, and send it back at once. All our letters back and forth fascinated her, she says. She wants to read every detail. She is so nice. I think she might be considering moving to Alberta. I hope she does. She says we are like her family.
I only have a few blank pages to fill now.
June 1903
Friday, June 5, 1903
I know, I have not been writing much here. This afternoon I was just sitting gathering my thoughts when Connor’s little sisters came racing into the hotel shouting for John. They had news. Charlie is alive! It took me a good two or three minutes to remember who Charlie was. But it wasn’t a person. It is Charlie the horse, the one John used to take sugar cubes to during the winter.
They have dug into where his body was and fo
und him. And, lo and behold, he is not dead at all!
John, still not fully recovered, jumped up and hurried as fast as he could out the door to go see his old friend.
I wanted to go too but I had promised Mother to set the tables for supper, so I will have to go later. I cannot believe that blessed horse lived a whole month in the mine without food or water. I hope John comes straight home to tell us about how he is.
After supper
More sad news.
Charlie had chewed on his harness and on pieces of wood he found — that’s what he ate inside the mine. He got water which had seeped in through cracks, I guess. John said he was terribly thin, just skin and bone. John got there in time to watch them making him a feast. They were so happy to find him alive that they made him a grand dinner of oats and barley and apples and brandy. He gobbled it down, and then he keeled over dead. They think it was too much for him. That much food all at once, after a month of near starvation, was more than his poor body could handle.
“He died happy, Abby,” John said. But he had tears in his eyes when he said it.
Saturday, June 6, 1903
I keep thinking about Grandpa finding me on the dock. Mother says they thought I was not yet two, but later on she decided I was probably three because, when I at last started to speak, I knew lots of words and songs. I was weak, but when I grew strong I could walk and even run.
I am not nobody, as my poem said, but I will never know who I was before Grandpa found me. He’d asked people near where he found me if they knew anything about me, and other passengers were sure my whole family had died during the voyage, but nobody knew their names. The ship was crowded with people who were desperately ill. Once cholera broke out, so many perished and had to be buried at sea. In the confusion, records were not kept. It sounds as terrible as the Frank Slide.
Now I only have enough room left in my book to tell the last thing. I already wrote about Mother and me taking my ring to the jeweller to have it made smaller. Well, when we went to pick it up, something astonishing happened.
