Bert and Ernie had no idea what a bunkhouse would be like. Ever since Curly said he wasn’t fond of living in one, and having seen the state of his shack, they were expecting to find it unlivable. Instead, they were delighted to find the place neat and tidy. There were no partitions but there was plenty of space between the four bunks in the room. Red explained that the reason there were no partitions was because that would prevent the heat from the big wood stove in the centre of the room circulating.
There were two unmade beds, but they had neatly folded bedding on them, and because Red never offered, the brothers knew they would have to make their own. They each had a box at the foot of their bed for their possessions and some hooks on the wall to hang their clothes. The other two roommates were sitting at a table near the stove playing cards. Red introduced them by name before giving them their orders for the following day. Addressing the biggest and burliest man, he said, “Aaron, I want you and Jack to take these two out to the north pasture and do a count on the herd. Boss figures there should be about thirty new ones by now.
“Now these fellows are from England, and over there they use a leather pancake for a saddle. I don’t suppose they’ve ever seen a real saddle before, so I want you to show them how they work.” Red talked as though Bert and Ernie weren’t in the room, and it became obvious that he didn’t think much of Englishmen. “You’d best leave early, because they’ll probably slow you down. Cookie’ll have you some grub ready to take with you an’ you should be back by dinnertime.”
Red was about to leave, when Bert stopped him wanting to know where the outhouse was and where he could shave in the morning. Red laughed and replied, “There’s a wash-house next to the kitchen and we have designated days to use the bathtub. I’ll go look at the schedule and see what days you two can have. You’ll be lucky if you get time to eat, let alone shave in the mornings, you’ll just have to let the cat lick off that fuzz in the meantime.” The other men laughed but were surprised when Ernie and Bert joined in and didn’t show any sign of being embarrassed.
Red, who seemed disappointed that his heckling had no effect, coughed, then said, “Come on, I’ll show you the outhouses and there’s a basin and a tap outside the bunkhouse where you can wash your hands and face. Aaron here will wake you in the morning, right Aaron?” Aaron nodded and Ernie and Bert followed Red outside.
Aaron and Jack seemed friendly enough and the brothers were looking forward to getting to know them, but they had just come back in, made their beds when Aaron said, “time to hit the hay, boys.” It was only around eight o’clock, and Bert and Ernie thought he was joking, but then they saw that both men were actually getting into their bunks, so it was either sit in the dark and be quiet or do the same.
Bert and Ernie weren’t sorry they had gone to bed early when they were woken at four the next morning. They fumbled around getting dressed in the feeble light from a lantern that hung on a hook hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Then they made their way out to the two outhouses and waited patiently for their turn to relieve themselves. After a quick wash in a basin of cold water, they followed the other two men to the cookhouse where the smell of fresh coffee gave them a warm welcome and initiated them into the life of a cowboy.
Bert was given a gelding named Switch. And Aaron gave Ernie a mare named Soda. Fortunately, both horses were well trained and waited patiently for their novice riders to saddle them. Aaron was kind enough not to criticize them when they made mistakes, and to help them when they needed it. Once the brothers had mounted, they looked at each other admiringly. Proud to be wearing the appropriate attire: cowboy hats, chaps and rifles, they sat tall and made various poses. “I wish we could have our picture taken to send home,” Ernie said.
“I reckon you’ll look more like real cowpokes by the time we get back tonight,” Aaron replied, grinning.
Just then Jack came out of one of the outhouses, got on his horse that had been waiting for him outside the door, and called out, “You girls gonna stay there lookin’ pretty all day, or are you gonna git movin?” Then he gave a loud, “Yippee,” waved his hat in the air, and they were off.
Thirty minutes later the brothers realized they hadn’t told the truth when they told Mr. Arnett that they knew how to ride, and it only took a half hour more for them to regret it. They would have begged to get off and walk, but their pride wouldn’t allow it. Aaron and Jack had seen greenhorns before, so they knew what the brothers were going through. Jack, who seemed to melt into his saddle like he was born in it, rode up alongside Aaron and said, “Do you think they’ll last?”
Aaron looked back at the brothers and could see they were suffering. “I think we’d best walk our horses for a time, or we may have to fetch a buggy.” They slowed their horses to a walk, and when Ernie and Bert caught up to them, Jack said, “How you boys doin’?”
Ernie, doing his best not to show his discomfort, replied, “I think we are beginning to get on to it. How much further do we have to go?”
“We should be there in about another hour. We’ll stop up there by that creek so the horses can have a drink, and you can get off and stretch your legs if you like.”
When they arrived at the creek and the brothers dismounted, they could hardly walk. They were both suffering with chaffing, but what they dreaded most was getting back on the horses. Aaron came to their aid by offering to give them a leg up. Then he said, “If you’re in a lot of pain, try throwing one leg over the saddle horn and riding side saddle, like a lady. Don’t be embarrassed, we’ve all done it,” he lied. Surprisingly, the advice proved beneficial, and they were able to continue. They had just ridden over the only hill big enough to be called a hill when they found the herd. It was a thrilling sight for the brothers; their aches and pains were almost forgotten, and they rode like men again.
They had just about finished counting the calves when Jack noticed a flock of vultures circling not far from the herd. “Bert,” he called, waving his hand for him to come. “Let’s go and see what them buggers are so excited about.” Bert, riding alongside Jack, felt like he was now a certified cowpoke in spite of his pain. They didn’t go far before they came upon a sick cow and the remains of her calf.
“Nothing we can do for the poor old girl now,” Jack said, “except put her out of her misery. You a hunter?”
The poor animal had the biggest brown eyes Bert had ever seen, and they were looking at him begging for mercy. This time, Bert was glad to tell the truth. “No, I’ve never shot a gun in my life.”
Jack’s answer wasn’t what he expected or wanted. “Then it’s time you learned how. That poor animal needs to be killed or those scavengers will start eating her alive and the first thing they do is go for the eyes. This is the life of a cowboy, so you might as well get used to it.”
When Bert and Jack returned to the herd, Bert’s stomach had been emptied, he had a sombre look on his face, and he wasn’t very interested in the lunch Cookie had prepared for them.
Every step Bert and Ernie took the next day was torture. Their joints ached and their underwear felt as though it was made of thistles. That day, when no one made fun of them as they walked like they had just soiled their trousers, they learned to appreciate the loyalty and empathy cowboys shared They weren’t ordered to ride for a few days, and someone had left a tin of much appreciated ointment on Bert’s bunk. Ernie noticed that the tractor hadn’t moved since they arrived, and he suggested to Bert that they go and have a look at it. Once they had examined it, they found Roland and asked him if he was given a manual with the machine.
“I got one here somewhere,” he answered, “but it’s too complicated for me. You’d have to be a genius to understand it.”
“Well, sir, we may not be geniuses, but Bert and I do know a lot about machinery, and we think we may be able to fix the problem. If we could have a look at that manual, it might help.”
“I don’t know. That machine cost me over $800 and I sure as hell don’t want that salesman accusing me of breaking it.”
“Why don’t you come and watch us, that way you can see for yourself that we are not going to do any damage?”
“Fair enough. After all, I got it from a British outfit in Saskatoon,” Roland replied. He went into the house and came back with the manual. “They just came out with it this December. Call it the Dreadnought of the Prairie.’ What sort of damned name is that? And they say it’s built like a battleship and runs like a watch, but they didn’t say what kind of a watch! You should a heard the bullshit that salesman gave me. It’s sure to pay for itself in one year, he says. Ha! I told him if it didn’t, I’ll drive it all the way to Saskatoon and up his ass!” Roland said all this while they were walking out to the tractor.
After reading the manual, Bert and Ernie were very impressed with the machine, except for the clutch. When Roland said that there were times the clutch wouldn’t release, they knew what the trouble was. There wasn’t much of a machine shop on the ranch, but the brothers managed to get the tractor running, and for the next week, they were given the task of running it to pull the hay-press around the fields. They also taught Red what to do if he had any more trouble with it. They had only made a few minor adjustments to the clutch, but from then on Roland and Red treated them with a lot more respect. In fact, Roland decided that, because they knew so much about motors, he would take them into Regina on the train, buy a Ford truck, and let them drive it home.
Determined to be cowboys, the brothers were back riding as soon as they finished working with the tractor, and before long they were able to keep up with the other men. They had been working on the ranch for eight months when Ernie received a letter from Ada saying she had booked her passage and would be in Canada in a month. Ernie knew he had to leave the ranch in a day or two and begin looking for a town where he could find a job more suited to his talents so he would be ready for Ada’s arrival.
There were some nice homes in Saskatoon and Bert couldn’t see why Ernie and Ada couldn’t stay there for a time, later the three of them could head out west. He had promised to help Curly build his addition and go with him to the reservation when he went to find a wife, so he didn’t feel he could leave. Ernie, on the other hand, had heard good things about Calgary, a town near the foothills of the Rockies, and thinking it sounded like a romantic place to be married, wanted to leave as soon as possible. Bert was disappointed but he promised he would join Ernie and Ada as soon as he left the ranch.
When she learned Ernie would be leaving, Bea decided to cook the brothers a special dinner. The Arnett’s twin boys would be coming home from university for the weekend, and she thought it would be nice to have the dinner then so they could have a musical evening. Their oldest boy was married and living in Regina. He and his wife were expecting their first child soon, and because they didn’t want to be far from their doctor, they couldn’t come. Bea asked Roland to visit a neighbour who raised pigs and turkeys and buy a nice big roast of pork and some bacon.
Bert was curious to know how far away the nearest neighbour lived, so Roland asked him if he would like to go along. It took an hour and a half before they arrived, and they could hear the pigs snorting and squealing, and the turkey’s gobbling, as soon as they rode through the gate. This farm wasn’t near as fancy as the Arnett’s, and there were no trees or flowers to enhance the landscape. The house appeared as barren as the dirt it stood on. There were no curtains on the windows, but then there weren’t enough windows to hinder the occupant’s privacy. A pig shed and pen was on one side of the house and a turkey shed on the other. The three buildings were so near to each other that it was hard to discern which building the owner lived in. The house and out building were on the top of a rise and just as Bert and Roland started up the hill, Bert noticed a small corral. “I say Boss, would you mind stopping for a minute.”
“What is it, Bert?”
“Look at that poor animal over in that corral. I think the poor thing has been attacked or tangled in barbed wire. What do you think?”
“It looks in pretty bad shape, that’s for sure, but it’s not our responsibility. I’ll talk to Mack about it,” Roland answered as they continued up the hill.
The turkey rancher, Mack Snider, had a long skinny neck and a beak-like nose and Bert couldn’t help but think that he looked very much like one of his turkeys. He greeted both Roland and Bert with a smile and a good firm handshake—a gesture that always made a favourable impression on Bert. His turkeys appeared to be well cared for, and when he talked about them so fondly, it made Bert wonder how he could kill them. He was also surprised that such a man would let a horse suffer. When Roland asked Mack about it, Mack said he didn’t know how the horse had managed to make its way back to the corral.
“I can’t see the corral from here, so I didn’t know he was there. Poor old boy got tangled in a mess of old barbed wire fencing. He was miles from here lying on the ground all wrapped in it when I found him.”
“I didn’t think you used barbed wire,” Roland said.
“I don’t, but the neighbour does. Someone left our gate open, and Thor got out. I didn’t notice he was gone until the next day, and when I found him, he was almost dead. It looked like there was a whole coil of it left on the ground. He must have been running when he got tangled in it and fell. I think when he tried to get up, he rolled over and got wrapped in it even more. He had lost a lot of blood and may have done some damage to the muscle in one leg. I managed to cut all the wire off him, but he still couldn’t get up. I didn’t have my gun with me, so I came home and told Jimmy to go out and put him down. That was two days ago.”
“How old is he?”
“Jimmy?”
“No, the horse.”
“I’m not sure. The feller we bought this place from moved into town and he didn’t want him. Thor wasn’t young then, and we’ve been here for ten years, but he’s a good horse. Damn that boy. I don’t believe in allowing animals to suffer. Damn him anyways!” Mack opened the door of the house and hollered inside, “Jimmy! Jimmy, get your sorry ass out here right now!” A husky built young boy about nineteen came slowly out of the house.
“Whatcha want, Pa?”
“I thought I told you to put old Thor down. That poor thing has been suffering for two days.”
“I went out where you said you left him, Pa, but he wasn’t there.”
“I know. God only knows how he managed to make it to that old corral at the bottom of the hill, but he’s there now, so go and get it done.”
“Yes, Pa,” The boy said. He went back into the house, came out with a rifle, and started to walk down to the corral.
For a second Bert considered wrestling the gun away, but then he had a better idea and he stepped in front of the boy. “You can’t shoot him,” he said quietly.
“Who the hell are you to tell me who or what I can shoot?”
“He just needs someone to look after him. He doesn’t need shooting.”
“You a horse doctor?”
When Bert shook his head, the young man pushed him aside, and said, “Well then get the hell out of my way.”
“I shall give you three dollars for him. What do you say?”
Surprised, the boy looked at him for second to see if he was joking. When he realized Bert meant what he said, he replied, “He’s yours, but I think you’re crazy. If you’re determined to take him, I got a cart and trappings you can hitch to your horse. We can load him into that, but if he’s as bad as pa says he is, I doubt you’ll get him home alive.”
Bert said he would give him another dollar for the cart then he realized that he hadn’t asked Roland if he could bring the horse back to the ranch. Roland agreed, but said Bert would have to stay on at the ranch until the horse was either dead or completely healed and that he could only work on the horse after he finished his chores. Like the farmer and his son, Roland was sure the horse would die before they got it home, and Bert had just thrown away four dollars, but he didn’t argue.
The boy, Jimmy, seemed genuinely sorry for the horse when he saw how it must have suffered, and he saw to it that it had a good supply of water and oats for the ride to the Arnetts, but poor Thor was too sick to eat or drink. Mack felt so ashamed of letting an animal suffer that he gave Roland a turkey and a jug of his best home brew to go along with the roast of pork and bacon Roland had bought.
By the time they arrived home, Thor was staggering as Bert led him into an empty stall. Red just shook his head when he saw the poor animal, but he could tell that Bert didn’t want to hear what he thought, so he gave him a pot of salve they used on the other horses when they suffered with sores or cuts and left him alone. Ernie helped Bert gently bathe the horse’s open sores and administer the salve. They knew it hurt, but Thor was too weak to protest. There was one huge tear in the horse’s flank, exposing the muscles.
Fortunately, the skin that was hanging down was still intact. Bert knew the open wound would never heal if the skin wasn’t stitched back in place, so he went to ask for Mrs. Arnett’s help. Bea Arnett had invited the English boys for dinner a few times and had become fond of them both so when Roland told her what had happened at the turkey farm, she wasn’t surprised. Thus, when Bert came and asked her if he could borrow some thread and a needle, she told him she would bring it out to the barn. When she came out, she was wearing a pair of Roland’s overalls and one of his work shirts.
“Now, let me have a look at this old boy. Oh, my, he is in a bad state, isn’t he? Well, we’ll soon have that sewn up. Here, Ernie, you rub this alcohol around the wound, and, Bert, you try to get some of this medicine down his throat, it might dull the pain. And both of you better watch yourselves, because the poor fellow is liable to do some kicking as soon as I start stitching.”
“I don’t think he has the strength to kick, Mrs. Arnett,” Ernie replied.
“Well, if he doesn’t, I will. That is if you keep calling me that. I told you, call me Bea.” Bert managed to get some of the liquid Bea gave him down Thor’s throat and then he held out his hand for the big sack needle that Bea had already threaded.
“You ever done any sewing?” Bea asked him.
“No, I haven’t, but I can try.”
“You just talk to the poor thing and reassure him that I’m doing it for his own good. Now let’s see if we can get this poor creature put back together.”