They removed the whatnots from the shelves, loaded the furniture, and swept the bare floors. Tears streamed down Sharon’s face as she wandered through the empty rooms, but Ruby never glanced back.
Will, Bert Whitford, Dennis Newberry, Charlie Nesbitt, and Rich Turner brought five sleds, one for the family and four full of furniture and belongings. The breath of eight giant Belgians wafted through the frosty air, reminding Will of winter mornings when the steam locomotive chugged into the Ashley Springs depot. Two new family members, Ted and Ned, mixed breeds, pulled their sled. Although not as beautiful as the Belgians, they were big and strong, and Will thought they handled right smartly. Fanny, Mabel, and Fanny Too seemed content to trot along behind.
Will had heated soap stones through the night to warm his daughters’ toes. Each girl was bundled in a hat, earmuff, scarf, mittens, and a greatcoat over a felt jacket and a wool sweater. Will piled straw under their feet, behind their backs, and along their sides, and covered them with blankets. Little Catherine looked like a bug in a rug, and a well warmed rug at that. But the trip hadn’t yet begun, and Will knew it would be a long, cold day.
Catherine sat in back between Ruby and Sharon. They had just tucked the blankets tight across their legs and stuffed them around their sides when Ruby threw the covers aside and jumped up. “Ruby, sit down, please,” Sharon said. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Ruby jumped off the sled and ran into the house but soon emerged with their cat. “I almost forgot Emily,” she said. “Dad would never forgive me if I made him turn back for her.”
“And you would, too,” Sharon said with a frown.
“How could I ever have forgotten Emily?” Catherine said. “That’s worse than forgetting Ruby.”
Ruby scowled in her direction.
They sledded all day. At first they rode the ridge for two hours. Then they left the rolling hills and gentle depressions behind and descended through peaked hilltops and sharp valleys toward the river. Some trees pushed out from their rock and earth foundations before turning upward toward the sunlight, while others fought their way through brush and undergrowth until they stood as sentries overlooking their brethren below.
And when the sun rose high in the sky, Catherine pushed the blankets off her legs. “It’s beginning to feel like spring,” she said.
Mary reached for Will’s hand. “Do you think we’ll have room for the furniture?”
“Nine rooms. They should hold it all.”
“I hope the girls do well in school. I want them to have careers, Will.”
She squeezed his wrist so hard that Will’s fingers began to numb.
“Ashley Springs’ schools were very good,” Mary said. “I knew all those teachers.”
“Our girls have an advantage. They have the best teacher in Iowa County at home. They’ll be fine, my dear.”
“You say so.”
“I’m sure of it.” He dropped the reins into his lap, pried her fingers from his wrist, and cradled her soft hand between his two burly ones.
They rode through shadowed valleys with rock outcroppings which glared down from above. Then they rose from the darkness into sunlight which reflected off the spotless snow, their tracks the only blot on its pristine surface.
“My cheeks tingle but my heart’s warm,” Catherine said. “It’s so beautiful. What a wonderful adventure!”
After ascending each hill, they stopped on the ridge and rested the horses before attacking another valley. The descent was harder than the climb and the sleds slid side-to-side, fighting the giant horses for dominance on the steep slopes. The horses’ hooves probed the rock and frozen ground for secure footholds on their downward passage.
Six hours into the trip, Will hollered back during one of their rest stops. “It won’t be long now. After the next hill, we’ll see the river. Then it’s another ten miles, all on the level.”
“Can we drive on the ice?” Ruby said.
“Not on Wisconsin River ice,” Will said. “The currents are far too treacherous to chance that.” He reined his team and turned to his daughters. “Girls, if you don’t remember anything else I tell you, remember to treat the river as your lethal enemy. She’s a temptress who promises an early grave if you listen to her call.”
At the top of the last hill, when the sleds exited the trees, an unexpected sight greeted Will below. He’d expected to see river ice, but instead a gray-white mass of fluff snaked its way through the valley for as far west as he could see. A vast feathery world lay before him.
“The river must be open,” Will said. “The ice-cold water is teasing moisture from the warmer air.”
When they descended into the whiteness, their senses were fooled by a mist that obscured all landmarks. It was an eerie world where potential dangers were hidden by the moisture-heavy air. And a sense of calm and serenity prevailed.
“Oh, Daddy, I can’t see anything!” Sharon said. “I’m scared.”
“It’s beautiful,” Catherine said.
Sharon pulled a blanket over her head.
They continued downward, but Will slowed the horses to a crawl. “If we’re not careful,” he said, “we’ll walk right into the river.”
When the terrain leveled, the teams closed and edged along together.
“Better get out and lead,” Will called back through the fog. “We can’t chance a broken runner, or worse, an injured animal.”
Catherine clutched Emily when her father halted the horses. “We’d never find her if she jumped off the sled.”
The men groped through the dense fog as they walked the horses down the slight slope and onto the roadway. When he looked up Will saw a pale, orange globe far away in the western sky.
“Fall in behind me, boys,” Will shouted back to the others as he surged ahead. “I’ll stop a ways up the road, then pull up close and we’ll link together with a lead rope. I don’t want anyone to get left behind.”
They moved ever so slowly. Will watched the globe descend lower in the sky, their misty world darkening. He plodded through a soft, wet mush.
“Oh, Daddy, will we be okay?” he heard Catherine call from behind.
“Don’t worry, dear. We’re almost there.”
But he was worried. He hoped they would get there before the sun fell off the horizon. He didn’t want to run blind, not along the river. It was a contest now. Could they make it through this netherworld before the sun went down? Minutes seemed like hours.
A slight breeze cooled Will’s face and drove whiffs of white fluff past him. The breeze increased, the fog thinned, and then it was clear. Will saw ahead for the first time since they entered the river valley.
And it was a beautiful sight.
There was a big house which was almost as big as their Ashley Springs house, but it was so different. There were no multiple roof lines, no elaborate trim, intricate shapes, or side-by-side entry doors under a big fan window. It was a box. A big, white, two-story box, its frankness broken by a smaller box that protruded from the back, three roof gables, and a covered wrap-around porch. Tall double-hung windows complimented this tall two story house. It was as plain as the one-seat privy on Grandpa Duffy’s farm. But it looked as sturdy as the big red barn and twin silos that stood alongside on this river valley flatland, all having withstood years of wind gusts that tumbled off the surrounding bluffs. It was a house like Will remembered from his youth.
When they stopped by the front porch, Will jumped to the ground. A dog stood looking down on him, and as Will approached, he sat back on his haunches and raised a paw.
Will turned back to his family, still in the sleigh. “This must be Teddy. Mr. Barnes said he’d be here. He didn’t have the heart to take him away. It’s the only home he’s ever known.”
Catherine was first on the ground. “Oh, Daddy!” She stood at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at Teddy. “I wonder how long he’s been here.”
Will could see that she was troubled.
“We shouldn’t have kept him waiting.”
Ruby and Sharon jumped down and raced toward Teddy, who whimpered and licked their hands as they gathered around to love him.
Mary’s face softened and she smiled at her children as they fawned over their new friend. Will scanned the house, the buildings, and his fields. He looked back at his family and warmed to the sight.
He was home.
* * *