Somehow September had slipped into October. Fall was in the air, the sun slanting across the wheat and barley stubble, raising a fine mist as the frost burnt off. The sharp edge to the wind was welcome after the heat of summer and it was a Godsend the number mosquitoes and flies were diminished by the change in seasons. A few hardy roses made bright pink counterpoints to the glossy rose leaves and bright rose hips.
She sighed and shifted in her chair, gaze roaming over some of the grandkids digging the last of the potatoes, onions and other root vegetables from the large garden. The feathery heads of the two straggly rows of carrots tossed in the breeze sweeping across the hills. Elsie pulled her jacket up tighter around her chin. Amusement pulled at her lips. The twins, Doris and Willy, raced across the yard accompanied by the yelping of Hund, the big black dog. Elsie shook her head, those two and that big hulk of a dog were inseparable. The twins and their older sister, Anna, called the animal Blackie rather than Hund.
Doris and Willy were Agnes and Walter’s youngest children and lived on the home farm. It was nice to have the young ones close by. Even though the rest of her extended family lived nearby, it warmed her heart to have her oldest daughter and her family living with them. It made Elsie feel an integral part of their lives, part of the run of the mill everyday occurrences. Sometimes she missed the days when the children were all still living at home, the house full of their laughter and sometimes bickering.
The arguments over who had the prettiest hair, or the thinnest waist. The memory of the girls arguing over who would get to polish Ike’s shoes for Sunday service brought a nostalgic smile to her face. Memories of those bygone days turned her thoughts to the more practical reminder that the family graveyard needed to be tidied before the snow came. She tipped her head back and watched a late red tailed hawk circling over the short grass prairie. Most of the big birds had already left the vicinity for warmer places in the south. Like clockwork they would return in the spring, as they always did.
Elsie found comfort in the yearly turn of the seasons, accompanied by the arrival and departure of the migrating birds. Nothing would stop the spring from turning to summer, or summer to fall and fall to winter. She loved watching the changing faces of the seasons reflected in the familiar landscape around her. The lengthening of days after the spring equinox, the warmer sun scouring the snow from the fields, then the first blush of spring appearing on the hills and high places while ice still skimmed the water in the ditches. The faint pink-green of early leaves bursting into brilliant green of new minted poplar and cottonwood trees. As spring rounded into summer, the wild roses nodded in the sun, perfuming the air and drawing the heavy bodied bumble and honey bees. The fields were stitched with springtime by horse and plow in the early years, plowing the furrows and sowing the seeds that would ripen into golden waves in time. Later, the work was less with the advent of tractors, but Elsie held dear to her heart the images of Ike and the patient draft horses turning the rich prairie soil, back lit by the slanting rays of the sun in early morning and evening.
But just as the seasons rolled across the prairie, so did the years roll across the people living there. Summer ripened into fall and the heavy headed crop of wheat and barley fell before the binder and gave up their precious grains. Some Ike stored for seeding the next spring, some went to the elevator in Niverville and was sold through the recently formed Canadian Wheat Board, and some went into the granary on the farm to feed stock. Sufficient wheat went to the mill to provide flour for household use.
Elsie massaged her fingers that were beginning to thicken with the bumps of arthritis. Her mother’s hands had been stricken with the disease, by the time she died, her hands had been curled and painful. “Time waits for no man,” she said aloud misquoting Chaucer. There seemed no reason to mention tide along with time on the land locked prairie. Her thoughts turned again to those resting beneath the rustling grasses of the cemetery. She must take the youngsters there and tell them the stories of their family members lying beneath the headstones, old and new. It was so important for the young ones to remember the ancestors, remember them as real people, not just names in the family pages of the Bible, or letters inscribed on grave markers. A person needed to know where they came from in order to feel secure in where they were going.
The thought brought to mind a story her mother used to tell about the stripes on a chipmunk’s back. While the exact wording escaped her at the moment, the main message had been, the stripes were the paths from the eyes which saw now and tomorrow continuing to its tail which was always behind it and a part of yesterday. Those stories which were passed down from generation to generation were like the chipmunk’s tail, stitching the past to the present and giving the youngsters a rudder with which to steer through the troubled waters of the post-World War II era.
She got to her feet, shaking off the thoughts of the past. It was good to remember, but there was still work to be done. The diggers in the garden had reached the ends of the rows, somewhat untidy rows and random piles of overturned earth marked their progress. Elsie went down the wide porch steps and crossed the yard. The potatoes, onions, beets and carrots were piled in separate bushel baskets.
“Most of those need to go to the root cellar, but I could use some of the potatoes and beets in the house. Oh, and a few onions,” Elsie addressed her grandkids, smiling inwardly at their grubby knees and dirt stained hands. “Once you’ve put those away get yourselves cleaned up, be sure to scrub those hands and don’t be tracking mud and dirt into my clean house.”
Anna, Agnes’ eldest daughter, selected the vegetables Elsie asked for and trotted off around to the back door of the house. She’d leave them inside the door and not track up the pristine floor of the kitchen. The others headed off toward the root cellar laden down under the burden of the heavy bushel baskets. The younger ones were two to a bushel, each one heaving on the wire handle on their side of the basket.
“I wonder where Doris and Willy have gotten to? I can’t even hear that silly dog barking.” Elsie shoved her hands in the pockets of her apron and scanned the yard and surrounding fields. “Ike!” she called, seeing her husband emerge from the tool shed with a bug wrench in his hand.
He stopped and turned toward her. “What is it? It’s not supper time yet.” He glanced at the sky to check the position of the sun.
“Have you seen Doris and Willy lately?” She hurried toward him, one hand holding a wayward strand of hair in place that the wind insisted on pulling loose from the pins.
“Not recently. Last I saw they were headed down in the direction of the creek. Why don’t you send Mary and Neil to look for them?” Ike nodded at the two grandchildren returning from the root cellar. Mary was busy wiping her earth stained hands on her apron, Neil strolled beside her, hands buried in his pockets. The two were Jake and Nettie’s offspring.
Elsie hurried toward the pair intending to send them off on her errand. It wasn’t like those two young ones to wander off so far on their own. She shook her head, not so little anymore, they were getting more independent every day.
“Oh my!” Elsie whirled and pressed her hand to her thundering heart.
Shrill cries pierced the late afternoon air. The frenzied barking of the dog added to her panic. “Ike! Something’s wrong.” She gathered her skirt in one hand and ran, wrenching the gate to the yard open, leaving it standing ajar behind her. Neil and Ike followed and soon passed her. Elsie gritted her teeth and ignored the uneven ground of the field that threatened to turn her ankle or shred her town shoes. Halfway across the broad expanse of wheat stubble Elsie stopped to catch her breath, holding a hand over the stitch in her side. A sense of urgency drove her forward.
Ike and Neil disappeared into the brush by the creek.
“Oma, what is it. What’s going on?” Mary caught up with her and took Elsie’s arm.
“I don’t know. Something down by the creek. Listen to that dog howl.”
“Let’s hurry and see if we can help. Doris and Willy sound like they’re being murdered.” Mary let go of Elsie and strode ahead.
The screams suddenly stopped as well as the barking. Ike’s voice carried across the distance between them, but Elsie couldn’t make out the words. “Heavens above, what could possibly be wrong?”
Doris’s small form burst out of the bushes running pell-mell toward Mary and Elsie. She reached Mary first, who scooped the child up into her arms, patting her on the back and trying to calm her tears.
“What is it? What happened? Are you hurt?” Mary set her down and ran her hands over the small sobbing child who buried her face in the older girl’s skirts.
Elsie dropped to her knees, ignoring the sharp stubble that tore her stockings. “Doris, hush now and tell us what has upset you.”
“Mome, I want my mome,” Doris wailed.
“You take her, I’m going to go on and see where the others are.” Mary pried the small hands from her skirt and transferred them to her grossmama.
Elsie squinted after her as she ran across the field her feet raising puffs of dust and chaff with each step. Turning her attention to the sobbing child, she gathered her close, stealing glances toward the creek over the child’s head. “Hush, now, dear. Hush now. Tell Oma what happened.”
The thin shoulders ceased shaking quite so hard and Doris turned a tear stained face upward. “Blackie…Blackie…” a sob shook her. “It’s killing Blackie.” Tears flooded her eyes.
“Blackie? The dog? Hund?” Elsie glanced toward the bushes by the creek. “What about the dog. Who’s killing him?”
“Not who, Oma. The big kitty. We followed it ’cause it was so pretty. I wanted to…to…pet it…” The words came out between sobs and hiccups.
“A kitty?” Fear skittered down Elsie’s spine. While not common, there were lynx in the area. Surely one wouldn’t have come so close to the house. Unless it was a young one and hungry. The lambs were a few months old now, but still an easy kill for a big cat. “What colour was the kitty, Doris?”
The child sniffed and took a deep shuddering breath. Elsie handed her a clean handkerchief from her skirt pocket and waited while she blew her nose and wiped her cheeks. “Kind of brown, but sort of yellow, with a cute little tail. And Oma, it had these black pointy tufts on its ears. We only wanted to pat the kitty.” Tears welled up in her blue eyes again.
“There, there, now Doris. You didn’t touch the kitty did you?” Elsie got to her feet, hefted the five year old up onto her hip and started toward the creek. Doris shook her head, arms tightly twined around Elsie’s neck. “Willy didn’t touch it either, did he?” She held her breath and prayed while she waited for the answer. What was keeping Ike and Neil, and Mary? They be coming back by now. She quickened her pace. “Did Willy pat the kitty?” she repeated.
“No. he tried, but the kitty got mad. It…it…it growled at us.” The little voice wavered.
Elsie halted to ease the pain in her back from carting the child on her hip and set her down for a moment.
“Oma! I need your apron,” Mary cried, emerging from the bushes at the run.
When she got nearer Elsie caught her breath at the sight of fresh blood on her skirt. Shaking fingers untied the apron strings and she thrust it at the girl when she reached her. “Here, hurry. Who’s bleeding? Is it Willy?” Elsie could hardly get the words past the tightness in her throat.
Mary shook her head and paused to catch her breath. “No. Not Willy. It’s Blackie. The cat got him, but he protected the little ones. Neil and Opa chased the stupid thing off. Willy had the sense to climb a tree and the dog held the cat off at the bottom. I’ve got to go back. Neil’s getting Willy down from the tree and Opa’s seeing to the dog. We’re going to have to carry him back to the house in your apron. I’ll send Willy back to you, and maybe you can get the little ones to house and send one of the boys or Onkel Walter with the cart for the dog. Let Taunte Agnes know what happened.” Mary set off a run across the stubble.
Elsie picked Doris up again and wiped her face. “See now, it’s all okay. Willy is coming and Opa is looking after Blackie. Everything will be okay. You musn’t run off by yourself like that again. You understand?”
“Yes, Oma. I’m sorry, Oma,” she mumbled. “Willy!” she shrieked at the sight of the boy making his way toward them.
He broke into a run when he got closer. “Oma! The kitty was mean. It tried to eat me!” he declared skidding to halt beside her. “Blackie was real brave. He saved me. That old cat was no match for Blackie!”
“Here take my hand, Willy. We need to get back to the house and send the cart back to your Grosspape so they can bring the dog up to the house.” She clasped the grubby little hand in hers and hitched Doris higher on her hip. By the time she arrived at the house, her back ached, her stockings were ruined, and her shoes were filthy.
Agnes appeared on the porch, alerted by the shouts of the other children. She bustled down the steps and took Doris in her arms. “What happened, Mome?” Agnes pulled Willy close to her side.
“In a minute, Agnes. Paul, can you and a few of the boys get the cart hitched and take it across the south field toward the creek. Neil and Grosspape need help getting the dog back to the house.”
The boys raced off to do her bidding and Elsie mounted the wide steps and sank thankfully into one of the big chairs.
“What happened? What’s wrong with the dog?” Agnes sat down in the chair opposite, Doris in her lap, and Willy leaning against her knees.
“Those two decided to go exploring down by the creek and thankfully they took the dog with them.”
“There was a big kitty,” Willy interrupted. “With big ears and a short tail.”
Agnes exchanged a look over the children’s heads with her mother, eyes widened.
“The kitty was mean,” Doris declared. “It growled at me.”
“Bad kitty,” Agnes smoothed her daughter’s corn silk hair.
“It scared me, so I runned away,” Doris said, nodding her head decisively.
Movement in the south field caught Elsie’s attention. She stood up and looked meaningfully at Agnes. “Let’s go get cleaned up, shall we? Oma needs to wash her hands and change her clothes, and I’m sure both of you will feel better with clean faces and clothes.”
Agnes glanced in the direction Elsie indicated with a tilt of her head. “That sounds like a very good idea. Come on, little ones. Let’s go wash.” She got her feet and herded her two youngest into the house. Elsie followed, but not before she shot a worried glance at the cart making its slow way back to the house. The children will be heartbroken if the dog doesn’t make it. They love that silly thing. Anna especially.After a quick wash she went upstairs to change her clothes and get a new pair of stockings. She peeled off the shredded ones and regarded them for an instant. There was no hope of mending them so she balled them up and reluctantly tossed them into the waste basket.
The high voices of the children echoed up the hallway from the kitchen, punctuated by the deeper tones of the older grandchildren. She caught the sound of Agnes’ voice as well. Things seemed to be well in hand, so Elsie slipped out the front door and crossed the yard to the barn where the small cart was drawn up.
“How is he?” she asked when she was near enough.
Neil looked up and shook his head. Ike was bent over the animal holding a blood stained towel against one of the many wounds. Blackie thumped his tail at the sound of her voice, his breath coming in pants.
“He needs a vet, but I’m not sure he’ll last until he gets here,” Ike said.
“You called the vet for a dog?” her voice rose incredulously. Vets were an expense they tried to avoid. For Ike to summon the man for the dog was totally out of character for her husband.
“The dog saved those kids lives,” Neil said, one hand stroking the tattered black ears.
“Was it really a lynx? I can’t remember the last time one was seen around here.” Elsie stepped nearer and looked down into the bed of the cart. Blood seeped into the rough boards and soaked the material of her apron that the dog lay on.
“Neil saw it,” Ike said without removing his attention from the dog.
“It sure looked like a lynx to me. I don’t know what else it could have been,” Neil said. “Looked like a young one, pretty skinny, I could see its ribs before I managed to chase it off.”
“Elsie, can you ask Walter to move the sheep closer up to the barns? He’s over at the toolshed working on the binder. He should be told what happened to his children, too.” Ike looked up from the dog. “And keep an eye out for the vet, send him over as soon as he gets here.”
“Of course. What should I tell the children about the dog?” She regarded the animal dubiously. Blackie didn’t look good to her at all.
“If they don’t ask, don’t mention it,” Neil advised.
“If they ask, tell them it’s in God’s hands,” Ike offered.
Pulling her sweater tighter around her shoulders, Elsie crossed the dirt yard. The clang of Walter’s tools guided her to the interior of the tool shed unerringly. She stopped just inside the dim interior and waited for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
“Walter! Walter!” It was no use, the man apparently couldn’t anything over the clang of his hammer as he straightened a piece of equipment. Carefully picking her way across the shed, she stopped where her son in law could see her when he looked up. She waited until he paused in his work.
“Walter!”
“Oh, I didn’t see you come in. Is anything wrong? It’s not supper time yet, is it?” Walter put his hammer down on the binder platform.
“Doris and Willy had a run in with what Neil claims was a lynx down by the river.” She held up a hand to halt him when Walter made to move toward the door. “The children are fine, the dog took the brunt of it. Ike wants you to move the sheep up closer to the barns, we should probably put them in sheep fold at night for a while. Neil said the cat looked skinny and hungry. It must have been to go after people, even little one.”
“Where are the children?” Walter wiped his hands on a greasy rag, a worried frown marring his handsome features.
“At the house with Agnes. She’s giving them a snack and taking their minds off the poor dog,” Elsie replied.
“How bad is Blackie? Sounds like he was a hero.” Walter went to the shed door to stare across the yard to the group gathered around the cart.
Elsie trailed after him. “He’s cut up pretty bad. I don’t know what the children will do if he dies.” She crossed her arms and gripped her elbows in her hands.
“They’ll manage. It’s only a dog, after all,” Walter said brusquely.
Tires crunched on the bit of gravel by the gate. “That must be the vet.” Elsie hurried out to direct the man to the cart by the barn.
Walter slapped his hat on his thigh and crammed it on his head. “Ike called the vet? Never thought I’d see the day. I’ll go see to the sheep.” He stamped off toward the pasture where the ewes and lambs were grazing, white cotton balls against the brown grasses.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Neufeld. There’s an emergency with your dog?” The vet put his truck in park and stepped out, reaching back in for his medical bag.
“Yes. He got in a fight with what appeared to be a lynx. He’s over by the barn in the cart.” Elsie pointed the man toward the front of the barn.
“A lynx? Are you sure? There aren’t many around these parts that I’ve heard of.” He shifted the bag to his other hand and slammed the truck door shut.
“Neil saw it before it got scared it off, and he said it looked like one, didn’t know what else it could have been.”
“No matter. I’ll go see about patching up your dog.” The vet strode off across the yard, leaving Elsie by the truck.
She really didn’t want to go any closer. From what little she saw of the injuries, common sense told her it wouldn’t be a good outcome. Turning on her heel, Elsie crossed the short distance to the house. Martin, Susan’s husband sat on the porch steps whittling something, small curls of bright wood falling under his knife. Elsie stopped with one foot on the bottom step.
“Martin, would you go help Walter bring the sheep up closer to the barn?”
He set down the bit of wood and closed the jack knife, slipping it into his trouser pocket as he rose. “Sure. What’s all the crying about in there?” He tipped his head toward the screen door through which the sound of sobbing could be heard plainly. Without waiting for her answer, he continued, “Something up with the sheep? Is Walter bringing them up for the vet?”
“The children had a run in with what we think was a lynx. The black dog got hurt keeping it from harming the children.”
“A lynx?” Martin’s eyebrows rose in disbelief.
“Neil says it was.”
“How bad is the dog? The youngsters love that animal.”
“I don’t know, the vet is looking at him right now.”
“I’d best go help Walter with those sheep.” Martin strode off in the direction of the south pasture.
Elsie watched him go for a moment. Her gaze skipped over the huddle of men by the cart. She climbed the remaining two risers and stepped through the screen door holding it so it didn’t bang shut behind her. The crying seemed to have subsided for the moment, at least it wasn’t audible in the living room. She found Agnes and Susan in the kitchen with their brood of children at the table. The remains of jam sandwiches were smeared across tiny faces. The older children looked considerably more tidy. Agnes caught her eye and gave her mother a questioning look. Elsie shook her head and lifted one shoulder.
“All finished eating?” she asked brightly. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, shall we?”
Between the three adults, and with help from the older girls, sticky faces and hands were soon spotless. Tragedy forgotten, the younger ones went off to play upstairs. Twelve year old Anna, Water and Agnes’ oldest child, hovered in the doorway.
“Blackie’s going to be all right, isn’t he?” her voice wavered.
“I don’t know,” Elsie answered honestly.
Agnes went and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “The vet is with him, he’s doing all he can. Why don’t you say a prayer for Blackie?”
“I want to go see him. I need to be with him,” Anna insisted.
“That’s not a good idea. You’d just be in the way,” Elsie said.
“I don’t care! I want to see him. I’ll stay out of the way, I promise,” she pleaded.
“You heard your grossmama. That’s the last we’ll hear of it, understand?” Agnes hardened her voice.
Anna twisted out from under her mother’s arm and bolted out the back door. Agnes followed her to the door and pulled the screen shut.
“She’s not headed for the barn,” Agnes reported.
“She’ll come around. Best let her be for a bit, I suppose,” Elsie agreed.
* * *
Elsie set her unfinished cup of tea down on the kitchen table. Across from her, Agnes and Susan exchanged worried looks. Anna hadn’t come back yet, but the girl had enough sense not to wander too far. A shadow flitted across the screen door a moment before the sound of footsteps announced the arrival of the men folks. Ike held the door for the vet to enter before him. Walter and Martin followed the pair. Susan got up to fill the coffee pot.
“Can I offer you a cup of coffee?” Elsie addressed the veterinarian.
“No, thank you, Mrs. Neufeld. I have to be running along, there’s another call to make on my way back to town,” he replied.
She waited until Ike had paid the bill and walked the man out to his truck. He came back into the kitchen rubbing his hands together.
“Getting chilly out there. There’s a nip in the air,” he declared.
“What happened with the dog?” Susan asked before Elsie could get a word in.
Ike shook his head. “Nothing much could be done. We did the kindest thing we could for him.”
“Oh dear,” Susan blinked hard, “The children will be sad, they love that old thing.”
“It’s Anna I’m concerned with. She’s had that dog since he was a puppy. If he was anyone’s dog, he was hers,” Elsie worried.
“Anna will get over it,” Walter declared. “The girl needs to grow up, animals come and go. It’s part of life. She’d better get used to it.” He sat down and took the cup of coffee his wife handed him.
“She is too soft hearted,” Agnes agreed. “Why, she cries every time we slaughter the hogs or the steers, and her silly laying hens think they’re pets, for goodness sake.”
“Someone should go and find her, though. Let her know what happened,” Susan suggested.
“I suppose.” Agnes picked up her sweater from a hook by the door.
“Be gentle about it,” Susan said.
“No sense beating around the bush. I’ll just tell her right out.” Agnes looked back with her hand on the latch.
“Wait, Agnes. Let me go. I think I know where she’s gone,” Elsie got to her feet. She laid a hand on Ike’s shoulder as she passed. Even though he was presenting a stoic front, she knew he was distressed over the dog’s death. He’d been a good stock dog and he had saved the children from injury.
Agnes shrugged and moved back to the table. “If you want, Mome. Be sure to take a cardigan, it’s getting cool out.”
“I’ll be fine.” Elsie pulled her sweater on and went out the back door. The wind was picking up as the sun sank toward the distant horizon. Magpies bickered in the Saskatoon bushes competing for last of the purple-blue berries. Elsie ignored their antics and pushed through a gap in the undergrowth. Her feet found the faint path worn in the twisted grasses and remaining wild flowers. Anna has a secret hiding place on the far side of this mound. She leaned forward, feeling the strain in the back of her calves as she mounted the incline. A few large boulders crowned the top, blocking the prevailing winds and offering a secluded place for a person to sit and think, or just be alone. Elsie was familiar with the location having used it many times herself when she needed to wrestle with a situation. I wonder if Anna thinks she’s the only one who knows this place. Please God, let her be here.
She reached the summit and rounded the hulking sandstone boulders. Pretending to ignore the girl sitting cross-legged in the grass at the base of the largest upright, Elsie pushed her hands into her pockets and gazed off across the prairie where it swept to the sky. The wind rippled the grasses, tossing them like waves on the sea.
“It’s a pretty sight isn’t it?” Elsie remarked without looking at her granddaughter.
“I guess.” Anna shrugged and plucked a heavy headed piece of grass which she proceeded to shred.
“I figured I‘d find you up here. It’s one of my favourite spots too.” Elsie settled on a convenient flat topped low boulder.
“Blackie’s dead isn’t he?” Anna’s little girl voice vibrated with a tone too old for her tender years.
“I’m sorry, honey. Grosspape called the vet but there was nothing they could do.” Elsie laid a hand on Anna’s head and stroked her hair.
“Why wouldn’t they let me see him? Why couldn’t I say goodbye to him?” Tears made her voice ragged. “I needed to say goodbye. He needed me, and I wasn’t there.” The thin shoulders shook.
“He was hurt badly. It wasn’t something for a child to see.”
“I don’t care! It was Blackie,.I needed to be with him. I’ll never forgive them for not letting me go to him. He was my dog!” She scrambled to her feet and bunched her hands into fists on her thighs.
“That’s pretty harsh talk for a little girl, Anna. God says we should forgive.”
“I don’t care,” she repeated.
“Why don’t we go back to the house? It’s going to be dark soon,” Elsie urged her, getting to her feet and going to stand beside her granddaughter.
“Where is he? I want to bury him. Dig a grave and put up a marker with his name on it.” Anna set her chin stubbornly.
“He was only a dog, Anna. Dogs don’t get grave markers. You know that,” Elsie soothed her.
“He was a good dog! And he gave his life to save my brother and sister. Blackie deserves a grave. And a marker.” She scuffed a toe in the loose dirt. “He was a good dog,” she repeated.
Elsie sighed. “Let’s go down to the house and I’ll see what we can do about that.”
“Honest?” Anna turned shimmering blue eyes up at Elsie.
“I promise I’ll do what I can. We’ll see what your parents and Grosspape have to say about, okay?”
“I’m gonna bury him, even if I have to dig the grave by myself.” Anna set off down the back of the low hill, pushing through the underbrush.
Elsie followed at a slower pace. She had no idea where the dog’s body was at the moment. She could only hope Ike or Walter hadn’t taken care of it already. Or maybe, it would be better if they had? Anna was an odd little one, that was for sure. As unlike her siblings and cousins as a swan was from a duck. She hurried back to the house careful of the twisting roots and rocks underfoot.
She entered the kitchen slightly out of breath, expecting to find Anna there with the rest of the family. “Did Anna come in yet?”
“No, didn’t you find her?” Walter pushed his chair back ready to get to his feet.
“Sit down, Walter. I found her. She came back ahead of me. I was sure she’d be in the house,” Elsie replied.
“Then where is she?” Agnes got up and peered out the kitchen door.
“My guess is she went to find Blackie, if she’s not here.” Elsie sighed.
“Didn’t you tell her the dog is dead?” Ike demanded. “That’s what you went out there for.”
“Yes, I told her. We might as well have this conversation now, when she’s not here.”
“What conversation?” Walter frowned at his mother in law.
“She wants to give the dog a proper burial.”
“Out of the question!” Walter exploded.
“He’s a dog, not a person!” Ike agreed.
“You know that and I know that, but the child doesn’t see it like that,” Agnes said. “She loved that dog, all the kids did. Doris and Willy cried themselves to sleep tonight. They think it’s all their fault.”
“Maybe letting them bury the animal will help? Anna is distraught, and one of us should go out and find her before it gets any darker,” Elsie said. She moved toward the hall leading to the front door. “I’ll go get her. I’m pretty sure I know where to find her.”
* * *
Elsie sat bolt upright in bed, hand pressed to her thundering heart. A child’s screams echoed through the house. She recognized Willy’s voice, and the softer cries of Doris. “You go back to sleep, Ike. I’ll go see if Agnes needs any help.” She swung her legs out of the bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Feet stuffed into slippers she padded down the hall and poked her head into the children’s room. Agnes was sitting in the old rocker both twins held in her arms.
“Mome, we’re fine here now. Can you please go check on Anna?”
“Of course.” Elsie withdrew and continued down the dark hall to Anna’s room. The girl was sitting in a chair she’d pulled up by the window staring down at the barnyard. “Anna, you should be in bed. What are you doing?”
“Watching Blackie. I don’t want any coyotes or something bothering him. He’s out there all alone.”
Elsie moved to stand beside her, looking down at the tear tracks glistening on her rounded cheeks in the faint light. “Remember, we pulled the cart into the barn and closed the door? He’ll be all right until morning. You should be in bed. There’s school in the morning.”
“I’m staying here. Something might get into the barn,” she said stubbornly.
“Then I’ll stay here with you and watch.” Elsie sat on the end of the single bed near the window. It only took a matter of minutes before the small blonde head bobbed sharply and Anna smothered a yawn. Another ten minutes, and the girl rested her head on her crossed arms and closed her eyes. Elsie waited another few minutes before gathering her up and tucking her into bed. She left the door ajar and peeked into the twin’s room on her way back to bed. They were both snuggled in their beds, and Agnes and Walter’s door was closed. Elsie put her hand up to cover a yawn and went back to her own bed.
After the older children went off to school, Agnes and Elsie shared a cup of coffee at the kitchen table. A big pail of the last of the Saskatoon berries waited on the counter to made into jam. There was still some late rhubarb to be pulled, but for now it was nice to take a moment to rest after the broken sleep of the night before.
“What are we going to do about that dog?” Agnes rested her chin in her hand.
“I’m of a mind to let Anna do what she wants. It might help ease the little one’s minds too.” Elsie stirred sugar into her coffee.
“I just don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mome.” Agnes frowned.
“Let’s finish our coffee and get to work on those preserves.” Elsie finished her drink and rose to place the cup in the sink.
The day passed quicker than Elsie could give credit to. Before she knew it, the children were coming in the door. Tired from school and looking for a snack. Anna come through the door last, school books tucked under her arm.
“Do you want a snack?” Elsie halted her as she bypassed the kitchen door.
“No thank you, Oma. I’m going to get started on my homework.” The girl paused with her foot on the bottom riser. “Did you talk to Grosspape about Blackie?” Her voice broke over the dog’s name.
Elsie’s heart twisted at the forlorn look on her granddaughter’s face and she made a snap decision. Acting on it before she could have second thoughts, Elsie took the books from the girl’s hands and set them on the second step. She took Anna’s hand and with a finger to her lips for silence, the two slipped out the front door.
“Are you sure about this? Blackie doesn’t look like himself anymore. It might be more upsetting than not doing this.” Elsie cautioned as they crossed the barn yard.
“He’s still my dog, and his soul is in heaven with God,” Anna stated firmly with all the conviction of childhood.
“I don’t think dogs go to heaven, Anna.” Elsie wrestled with the need to comfort her granddaughter and to keep in line with the teachings of her religion.
“Blackie’s in heaven. I know it. I want him to have a grave where I can go and visit him, like you do at the cemetery. You’re always tell me how important it is to remember our ancestors, and to show our respect by keeping the graveyard neat and tidy. I want to do that for Blackie, he saved the twin’s lives. It’s the least I can do for him.” Anna kept walking. Arriving at the barn she slid the door open and stepped inside.
Shaking her head, Elsie followed. For such a young child, the girl certainly had some strong opinions and strange ideas. Inside the barn, Anna stood by the cart, the burlap thrown over the dog pulled back from his head. Her small hand smoothed the rough hair over his eyes. Her fingers trembled only a little as she struggled to remove the collar from around his neck. Elsie bit her lip to hold back the tears when the blonde head leaned close to the big shaggy head and the girl whispered something to her friend. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, Anna straightened up and looked back at her grossmama.
“How are we going to move him?”
“Move him where?” Elsie had thought they could give him a place in the soft earth behind the tool shed. It seemed Anna had other ideas.
“Up the hill, by the stones,” Anna stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
“The hill?” Elsie said faintly.
“Yes. It’s our special place. Blackie and me. That’s where I want him to be. How are we going to get him there?” The girl was obviously not going to be swayed.
“It’s not going to be easy, Anna.” She glanced around the dim interior, her gaze landing on a small wagon the men used to haul calves in during calving season. It was only work of a few minutes to drag the conveyance over beside the larger pony cart. “Grab the apron he’s lying on and help me shift him.”
Between them they moved the animal into the wagon, which thankfully had side rails that fit into slots on the sides. Somehow the forty pound dog seemed to weigh eighty. Elsie’s shoulders ached by the time they were ready to leave the barn.
“We’ll go out the side door, it’s closer to the path.” Elsie motioned Anna to pull the door open. She took hold of the handle at the front and dragged the wagon toward the open door. Anna closed the door once they were clear and then got behind the wagon to push. By the time they reached the Saskatoon bushes Elsie’s breath whistled in her chest. Every muscle was screaming for rest. Glancing back, Anna’s little cheeks were bright red, the muscles in her forearms straining.
“Let’s take a break. Do you think we should ask the other children to come with us?” Elsie suggested, thinking how welcome their added strength would be.
“Not until afterward.” Anna leaned down and put her weight behind the wagon again.
Gritting her teeth, Elsie put her head down and plunged into the underbrush. Fortunately, the band of bushes was fairly narrow at the point where the path went through. Of course, once through, the trail led uphill.
When they finally crested the hill, Elsie sank down onto a handy boulder to catch her breath. She surveyed the area on the top of the mound. There wasn’t much choice about where to bury the animal. Bury! We forgot to bring a darn spade. With all the worry about how to move the animal, a means to dig the hole totally escaped her notice.
“Anna, we forgot to bring a spade,” she informed the girl.
“I thought of that already, Oma. I brought one up last night when I came. It’s behind the bushes.” The girl giggled at the expression on Elsie’s face and went to fetch the item from its hiding place behind the thick brush. “I know where I want to dig.” She indicated a spot just over the brow of the hill, on the south-west side. “That’s where he liked to lie when we came up here. “I’ll start.” She stuck the spade into the clay soil and began to excavate the dirt. Once she had a good sized hole started, Anna stopped for a breather.
“Here, give me that. I’ll take a turn.” Elsie took the spade and sent her granddaughter to sit in the shade. A cool breeze whipped across the prairie, lifting the hair off her neck. It was easier digging into the side of the hill and before long she judged the cavity was deep enough. “What do you think, Anna? Will this do?” She leaned on the handle of the spade.
Anna got up and came over to inspect it. “I think so, I want to pile some stones on top too. To keep the coyotes and other things away from him.”
Elsie clambered up out of the pit. “Okay, let’s get Blackie over here and settled.”
In short order the wagon was trundled over to the waiting hole. Anna insisted in lining the bottom with grasses and wild flowers. Solemnly making a pillow of autumn flowers for his head.
By the time the dog was safely covered with earth, and a sizable pile of big rocks and small boulders, Elsie was tired. The short October afternoon was waning, shadows lengthening and merging in the fading light. “There, that should keep him safe.” Elsie dropped the spade into the bed of the small wagon.
“I just need to do one more thing, Oma.” Anna scooped the spade back out of the wagon.
“Not today. The light’s going and the family will be worried about us.” Elsie picked up the handle of the wagon.
“It will only take a minute. I know exactly where it is.” The girl scrambled down the slope, spade clutched in her hand.
“Anna, we really need to go,” Elsie insisted, one fist planted on her hip.
“I’ll be right there.”
The scrape of the shovel accompanied small pants and grunts. “Anna!”
“Coming, Oma.” She popped up over the top of the hill, a straggly bush in one hand, spade in the other. “Can you just move that one stone in the middle, please?”
Seeing it was no use to argue with the child, Elsie shifted the boulder and straightened up. “What in the world…?”
“It’s Blackie’s rose bush,” Anna announced, placing the scraggly plant into the opening and carefully tamping the earth down around it. “There, now he’s a Landmark Rose, and I can come here to visit with him and keep things neat.” She turned and beamed up at Elsie. “Just like we do in the family plot. I even said a prayer for him while I was planting his rose bush.”
“Oh…” Elsie was at a loss for words. Equating the dog with people and awarding him status equal with the members of the family who had gone to the Lord was stretching things, in her opinion. She couldn’t find it in her heart to dim the light glowing in her granddaughter’s face. “Let’s keep that secret between you and me, all right?”
“Now, we can bring Doris and Willy, and the others, up here tomorrow so they can say goodbye. We can, can’t we?”
“You’ll need to ask your mother if she thinks it’s a good idea.” She hesitated and then plunged on. “But let’s keep the bit about Blackie joining the Landmark Roses just between you and me.”
Anna shrugged and nodded. She picked up the wagon handle with one hand and slipped her other into Elsie’s. In the last glow of the sun before it sank all the way beneath the horizon, the pair made their way back to the barn yard.
Agnes was standing on the front porch when Elsie and Anna came out of the barn. “Where on earth have you been all this time?” She came down the steps and marched across the yard. “And what have you been doing? Anna, look at the mess of you! Go get washed up before your father sees you.”
Anna ducked her head and scurried away. “Don’t think this is over,” Agnes called after her retreating back. “You’ve still got some explaining to do. Later.”
Agnes fell into step beside her mother on the way back to the house. “You want to tell me what you two were doing? Where did you disappear to after the children got home from school?”
Elsie mounted the porch steps and sat in one of the big porch chairs and motioned Agnes to do the same. “Anna was out with the dog. She was determined to give him a proper burial.”
“What nonsense! You didn’t let her, did you? Sometimes that girl has the oddest ideas.”
Elsie shrugged and slid her gaze away from her daughter.
“Mother! You helped her, didn’t you?” She reached over and turned her mother’s hand over. “Look at the dirt on your hands! How could you encourage her in such silliness?”
“The child was determined to bury the creature. I couldn’t find it in my heart to deny her. You should have seen the look on her face.”
Agnes sighed. “What’s done is done, I suppose. Where exactly did the ‘proper burial’ take place?”
“Up on the hill behind the Saskatoon patch. She seems more resigned to his loss now.” Elsie got to her feet. “I need to go get cleaned up and see about supper.”
“I’ve got a start on it. You go ahead and get washed and changed. There’s mud on your dress and leaves in your hair.” Agnes held the door open for her mother to pass through ahead of her.
“Goodness, I can’t let Ike see me like this.” Elsie hurried across the living room and up the stairs, thankful to avoid seeing any of the men folks. In the privacy of the bedroom she shook her head while stripping off her muddy skirt. Imagine the child thinking the dog was a Landmark Rose. It was the name her own grossmama passed down to her, and that she had passed down to her own offspring and grandchildren. A wild rosebush bloomed by each headstone in the family plot. They grew in profusion over the prairie, perfuming the air and providing vitamin C rich rose hips in the fall. Offering life; even as the blooms lost their beauty and dropped their petals in the cold autumn winds. Elsie fancied it was symbolic of the beliefs and morals passing from one generation of the family to the next. “Landmark Roses,” she whispered, pulling a clean dress over her head.