Ticket to Curlew (5 page)

THE CHILDREN SPENT
the next few days getting to know Prince. They showed him his stall in the barn, fed him as much mash as Pa would allow, and curried him until his coat shone and his white mane and tail flowed in the prairie wind.

Sam had ridden many horses on the Iowa farm but none had ever suited him so well as Prince. He could get his arms over the small horse's back and pull himself up. Once up he was at home. From the very first day he felt that he and Prince understood each other.

Josie knew how to ride, too, but she was used to the child-sized pony back on the old farm. The first time she rode Prince alone she spent some time just sitting on his broad back, looking at the ground, before she would let him take a step. He stood quietly until she was ready and then meandered peacefully around the farmyard. It was not long before she was wanting to ride him off down the wagon track.

Matt was fearless but he had a problem. Josie could mount Prince by climbing up on the fence, twisting her fingers in his mane and pulling herself over onto his back. But Matt was too short for that and had to be lifted up. He couldn't mount Prince unless there was a bigger person around to help him. Then one day he noticed that his feet fit perfectly on the outward bend of Prince's back legs, the hocks. So he grasped Prince's tail, stepped up on his hocks and pulled himself up over the horse's rump.

Pa came out of the house and found his youngest child sitting proudly on Prince's back. When he found out how Matt had got there, he turned a little pale.

“You're lucky that horse didn't kick you to kingdom come,” he said. “I knew Prince was a trusty horse for you children. But, Matt, never try that with another horse.”

It was Josie who discovered another uncommon way of mounting Prince. She was waiting to go for a ride around the farmyard one day, but Prince was busy taking a long drink at the trough. Josie, as always, was impatient.

“Look,” she said to Matt, “I can easily climb on his neck. Then I won't have to lead him over to the fence when he finally stops drinking.”

Prince had his nose deep in the trough. He just rolled his eyes when he felt Josie's weight close behind his ears. Suddenly he snorted and lifted his head high in the air. Josie was startled but kept her balance as she slid down the neck onto Prince's back. It was so much fun that she and Matt spent the afternoon waiting for Prince to drink from the trough so that they could slide down his neck again.

When Sam got back from helping Pa haul a wagonload of coal out from town, Josie told him about Prince's new trick. Sam didn't believe her.

“He does it on purpose,” she insisted. “He likes to do it. Come on, Prince, let's show him.” But Prince was in no mood to cooperate. When Josie urged him over to the trough, he just shook his head and looked the other way.

Sam laughed. “It's true what Mama says. You can lead a horse to water but you cannot make him drink. Come on, Josie. If we go into the barn Prince will forget all about us.”

They stood side by side in the hot barn, squinting through a crack in the door, until they saw Prince amble over to the water trough. He didn't object when Josie climbed onto his neck. He even twitched his ears as if he was saying, Just a little farther forward, please.

Then he rolled his eye toward Sam and tossed his head high. Josie slid down onto his back and sat there grinning triumphantly. Sam could almost swear that Prince was grinning, too.

When they told the family about it at dinner, Mama said, “You children mustn't pester that horse. We're lucky to have a horse that likes children so much and you must treat him as a friend, not just something to climb on.”

“Your mother is right,” Pa said. “You have to treat Prince with respect. He's the one we're trusting to get you children safely to school and back every day.”

Sam was a little offended. Surely he could look after the younger ones. But when he thought about it, he knew what Pa meant. Prince would do what instinct told him to do. He wouldn't panic or get confused and he wouldn't need a compass to tell him the way home.

Three times Sam rode Prince to the school and back. Dry runs, Pa called them. “Once Prince knows the way, he'll always get you to school and back. If you have a disagreement with him over which way to go, Sam, you let Prince have his head. Don't argue with him.”

Sam knew that Pa was thinking of snowstorms. The clear autumn weather wouldn't last forever.

On the first day of school the three children climbed on Prince. Sam sat in front because Pa and Mama said he was in charge. Josie sat in the middle and Matt was last.

“You're the end rider, Matt,” said Pa. “Hang onto your sister. The end rider is in a perilous position.” Matt straightened up proudly. Perilous sounded special, even though he wasn't sure what it meant.

Each of the children had a schoolbag. Sam's was slung over one shoulder, but Josie and Matt carried theirs around their necks, bouncing against their bellies. In each bag was a tin box of lunch and a reader brought with them from Iowa. Sam was in the fifth reader and Josie in the third. Matt had Josie's old first reader. They each had a copy book, too, and a pencil.

Mama and Pa had done everything they could to get their children ready for school, but Sam still was not sure he wanted to go. As they jogged along he looked at the expanse of prairie around him and wished he could ride Prince all day instead of being shut up in a little schoolhouse.

But he could feel Josie hanging onto his belt and he knew that he would be heading this direction five mornings a week for months to come.

“Do you know how many pupils will be in the school?” he asked Josie. She paid attention to such things.

“Five from town, I know,” she said, “and two others from the country besides us. That's all Mrs. Pratt told me about.” Working at the store kept Mrs. Pratt up on all the news, and besides, Mr. Pratt was chairman of the school board.

“Ten,” said Sam. “That's not too many.” Probably many of them would be little kids like Matt. He wondered whether there was anyone around Curlew his age, besides the boy from the soddy. He wouldn't be at school for sure.

The schoolhouse was exactly like the one the Ferriers had attended back in Iowa, except it wasn't painted yet and it looked more lonesome because there was nothing around it. The Jericho schoolhouse had had some small trees in the schoolyard and a shed for the horses. Mr. Pratt had promised the Curlew school would have a shed before the snow came. In the meantime the horses would have to graze in the fenced schoolyard.

Sam knew exactly what the inside of the schoolhouse would be like. First there would be a cloakroom with hooks for coats — girls on one side, boys on the other. In the big room would be rows of desks with the heating stove and the teacher's desk at the front. As one of the older pupils, he would sit farthest away from the stove.

Nobody knew much about the teacher. Mrs. Pratt said she was from Edmonton and was properly trained. She would be boarding with a family in town. But would she be a stern teacher who used the strap on unruly pupils? Sam wondered about that.

When the Ferriers arrived at the school they saw that there were extra people there for the opening ceremonies. The children were standing in a little group near the steps, but there were several big horses tied to the fence and even two buggies. It was Mr. Pratt who came to the door to call the pupils in.

The school was exactly as Sam had imagined it, but there were grownups standing at the back of the room. The whole school board was there and a few other citizens from the town. Mr. Pratt gave a little speech about what a proud day this was for Curlew and how it meant that Curlew was becoming a town to be reckoned with. He introduced the teacher, Miss Barnett. She looked like a medium person — medium sized, medium aged and neither stern nor smiling. After the speech Mrs. Pratt handed out gingersnaps and oranges to one and all.

After the townspeople were gone, Miss Barnett called the roll and asked each pupil what reader they were in. As Sam had expected, he was the only one in the fifth reader. All the others were Josie and Matt's age.

Miss Barnett looked more lively now. She even looked younger. It occurred to Sam that maybe she didn't like crowds of strangers any more than he did.

She looked straight at Sam now and said, “I'll be counting on you to help with the fires and the horses. I'm afraid I don't know much about horses, and the younger children will need help at the end of the day.”

So when school let out, Sam found himself helping a girl and her brother hitch up their little buggy to their stout brown pony. When he was finished he turned to Matt and Josie.

“Now we can go home,” he said.

“No, we can't,” said Josie. “Prince won't come.”

Sam looked across the schoolyard. Prince was standing by the far fence calmly eating grass, but as Sam approached he sidled away just fast enough that Sam couldn't grab his bridle. When Sam moved faster, so did Prince, until he was dancing backwards away from Sam. Sam was sure his horse's black eyes were laughing at him.

Josie was laughing, too, but Matt looked a little worried. “How are we going to catch him, Sam?” he asked.

“He's just bored with waiting all day. He'll give it up soon.” Sam hoped he was right. It would be awful if they were late getting home because he couldn't catch Prince.

Just then Miss Barnett came to the schoolhouse door. She was smiling.

“Maybe these will lure him,” she said and handed Sam three gingersnaps.

“Thank you, ma'am,” said Sam. “Maybe you do know something about horses.” He held the cookies out and began talking to Prince. “Come on, you old rascal. You're just having fun with us. Don't you want to get out of this yard?”

Prince stopped backing up and began to edge forward.

“Here, Josie, you hold out these cookies,” said Sam. He waited until Prince was almost within arm's reach. Then he stepped forward and caught the bridle. Prince paid no attention. He took the cookies in his soft lips and began to chew. Then he rolled his eyes back at Sam.

Miss Barnett laughed and so did the children. When Sam could stop laughing he spoke sternly to Prince. “Now you have to work,” he said.

He lifted Matt onto the horse's back, pulled himself on and then reached a hand down to Josie.

Josie said, “Goodbye, Miss Barnett. Tomorrow we'll bring a treat for Prince.” Then they all waved and Sam turned Prince toward home.

SEPTEMBER TURNED INTO
October. Sam began to look forward to school each day. Three more pupils had shown up and one of them was a boy just a year younger than Sam. He made the schoolyard games much more fun for Sam, but he lived far from the Ferriers. Josie had the same problem with her new best friend, Dorothy.

“You see,” Josie explained at dinner one night, “Dorothy lives just as far on the other side of Curlew as we do on this side so we never see each other except at school. Now, if I could just ride Prince over to her house…”

“No,” said Pa. “Absolutely not. Sam is the only one of you old enough to ride out alone. I hope you understand that, Josie.”

“Yes, Pa,” said Josie meekly.

In fact none of the pupils saw each other out of school unless they lived in town. But they made up for it by coming to school early to play Red Rover and Kick the Can before the bell rang. During noon hour they played marbles and skipped rope.

Sam liked the games, but his favorite time of the day was the ride to school. The air was cool. Birds rose from the fields and gophers dodged into their holes as Prince passed. Sometimes they met a wagon on the track or saw John or Adam Martingale out working.

One morning Sam heard the sound of a horse coming up behind them. It was overtaking them quite fast and Sam twisted around to see who was in such a hurry.

It was the boy from the sod house. He was riding a big raw-boned black horse.

“Of course he can go faster than we can,” Sam said mostly to himself. “His horse has only one rider.”

Josie heard him. “And his horse is much bigger,” she said. “Prince is kind of small.”

Sam was saved from having to answer by a shout from the boy.

“Allo! Allo!”

Josie and Matt answered, “Hello,” but Sam, thinking that the boy wanted more room to pass them, guided Prince to the side of the track.

The boy didn't pass. He stopped and smiled shyly at all of them. He was wearing a loose blue shirt and black trousers tucked into the tops of wide boots. On his head was a flat cap with a brim in front that shaded his eyes. He looked tall sitting so high on his horse and Sam thought he might be older than twelve.

After a minute the boy pointed to himself and said, “Gregor.”

Josie said in a pleased voice, “It's his name!” She pointed to herself and said, “Josephine.” The boy frowned in a puzzled way, so she shrugged. “Oh, call me Josie. Everyone does. Josie.”

“Josie,” said Gregor.

Then Matt said, “I'm Matthew. But you can call me Matt.”

Gregor beamed and said slowly and clearly, “Matte-oh.”

“It must be the way to say Matthew in his language,” said Sam. It was his turn now. “Sam,” he said. “Just Sam.” Then he realized that Gregor would think his name was Jussam so he said clearly, “Sam.”

“Sam,” said Gregor and leaned over and held out his hand. Sam stretched out his own hand and they shook. It was the first time he had ever shaken hands with a person his own age, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Gregor smiled the wide smile that turned his eyebrows and all the lines in his face up. Then he said something to his horse and rode off ahead of them. He turned once and waved. They all waved back.

“Where is he going?” asked Matt.

“Pa said his father hired him out to work for someone who is trying to get a house and a barn built in a hurry,” said Sam. “I guess his family needs cash. Maybe he can learn some English working anyway.”

“No, he can't,” said Josie. “Mrs. Pratt said the people building the house only speak German. We're lucky. At least we can talk to some people who aren't in our family.”

As they jogged along, Sam thought that for Josie, having people to talk to was luck. For him luck was not having to work all the time. School was work, in a way, but it was better than spending every day fetching and carrying to build a house you would never live in yourself. He liked doing chores on their own place better. That made sense. And when Prince was included in the job, it hardly even seemed like work.

Prince was turning out to be a reliable horse. That's what Pa said. Except for wanting his afterschool treat every day, he wasn't temperamental. He even seemed to have a built-in clock. If school didn't let out exactly at three-thirty, he came and stuck his nose in the open window of the schoolhouse. He didn't look at Miss Barnett, only at Sam. He never made a sound, but his unblinking eyes drew everyone's attention and Miss Barnett would say, “Prince, I think your watch is faster than mine. I'm just about to dismiss them.”

When Sam thought about luck, he had to include Miss Barnett. She was a teacher who could laugh, and she never punished pupils with the strap. If one of them was daydreaming or pestering other children, she said, “Learning is a privilege and if you don't wish to learn you can spend the day in the cloakroom doing nothing at all.” Being a bit of a daydreamer, Sam had spent some time there himself, and he had to admit it was boring. Especially because Miss Barnett checked every so often to be sure you weren't just sleeping.

No, school wasn't bad. Still, Sam was always glad when the time came for the ride home. They never hurried; the ride was a break between schoolwork and chores. Prince was happy to jog along at a steady pace. Like a lot of people, Prince preferred not to exert himself.

One afternoon as they neared the Martingale place, Adam came running out of the barn. “Stop, Sam, stop!” he shouted, waving his arms.

“Whoa, Prince,” said Sam. He wondered whether to jump down. Maybe the barn was on fire. But Adam ran right over to them.

“I'm sorry to shout at you,” he said, “but I'm most worried. The oxen have wandered off. They were in the field for their mid-day grazing and I suppose the gate was left open because they were gone when I came out. You know that we have only one horse and John has ridden off to the west to search. Unfortunately my father and yours have taken a team and gone north to talk to a man who may have some seed wheat. I'm going to borrow Goldie and go to the east. Could you take Prince and go south? I only hope the oxen haven't gone too far. They are wearing their harness. Take some rope so that you can lead them home if you find them.”

None of the children had ever heard Adam say more than six words together, but this was a real emergency. Even Matt knew that it was the oxen that made the Martingales' farming possible. To replace them would be very costly, and Sam suspected that for all their books and learned speech, the Martingales were like everyone else out on the prairie, cash poor.

“Of course I'll go,” he said. “I just have to stop on the way to take Josie and Matt home and tell Mama where I'm going.”

Josie said, “I'm sure they'll turn up, Adam. It would be hard to lose anything that big for very long.”

But Sam saw Adam's eyes taking in the vast land all around them. He knew what Adam was thinking. In all that space his oxen could be lost forever.

Mama understood the emergency at once. “Of course you should go and no, Matt, you can't go along. Sam must ride as fast as he can. Just stay near the wagon track, son, and remember that it gets dark earlier now.” She gave him bread and butter and a glass of milk and put some dried apples in his pocket. Prince had a good drink of water at the trough and then they were off.

As Sam turned Prince west out of the farm gate, he was suddenly filled with excitement. He hoped he would find the oxen, but not too soon. He had been waiting for a chance to take Prince for a real gallop across the country.

He looked around carefully. There were no oxen to be seen. He decided that he would let Prince gallop for ten minutes or so, then slow him and take a good look around. That way they would cover distance and still take time to search the open landscape.

It took a little urging to get Prince to gallop. He turned his head and looked at Sam as if to say, “Do you really want me to exert myself?” But once they found a rhythm together it was wonderful. Sam felt Prince's warm back rising and falling and the wind blowing his hair straight back. The brown grasses flew past in a blur.

Suddenly he remembered the oxen. “Whoa, Prince,” he said. “We have a job to do.” He held Prince to a walk for some minutes while he scanned the prairie for the missing beasts. Then he urged his horse to a gallop again. Once Prince had the idea, he willingly galloped, then walked, then galloped. Sam was sure that he was enjoying himself, too.

Looking ahead along the track, Sam thought he recognized the stretch he and Matt had stumbled along in the dusk. He leaned forward to pat Prince's neck.

“I'm glad you're here now, boy,” he said.

Then he heard hoofbeats behind him. At first he thought he was just remembering the sound of the wagon on that night. But this sound was too loud for memory. Sam turned around, and there was Gregor on his big black horse.

The small white horse and the tall black one stood side by side on the wagon road. The two boys looked at each other.

“Allo,” said Gregor. He smiled but he looked puzzled. He pointed down the track and raised his eyebrows at Sam.

“Hello,” said Sam. He was thinking hard. If he could make Gregor understand about the strayed oxen, he might be able to help find them.

Sam shaded his eyes and peered all around to show that he was searching for something. Then he pointed at Prince and at Gregor's horse and shook his head. He held up two fingers and hunched his shoulders, hoping he would look a little like an ox.

Gregor looked puzzled.

Sam pointed to himself and to the north side of the track. He drew the shape of a house in the air with his hand. Then he pointed to the south side of the track and drew another house.

“Martingale,” he said and looked hopefully at Gregor.

Gregor nodded vigorously. “Martingale,” he repeated.

That was good, Sam thought, but not enough.

There was only one thing to do. He slid off Prince's back and got down on his elbows and knees, lowered his head, poked his fingers up above his ears to indicate horns and slowly crawled down the track. After a minute he looked up to see Gregor standing beside his horse nodding and laughing.

Sam stood up. He pointed in all directions, shrugged his shoulders and held out empty hands to show loss. Gregor suddenly looked serious. Sam knew that he finally understood.

Gregor frowned for a moment. Then he said, “Sam!” He put his fingers above his ears like horns and said a word.

Sam said, “Oxen? You mean oxen?”

“Oxen,” repeated Gregor. They stared at each other. It seemed that a whole world of communication had opened between them.

“Oxen!” they both shouted and shook hands for the second time.

Then Gregor stopped smiling. For a moment he stood perfectly still with his eyebrows drawn together. Then he made a bowl shape with his hands, put his face into the bowl and lapped with his tongue.

“Water?” said Sam.

Gregor spread his arms to show that the bowl was now huge, wider than his arms could reach. He pointed to the southwest. Then he went back to lapping with his tongue.

Sam was very excited. “You mean there's a pond down that way? You think the oxen might be there?”

Gregor picked out the only word he understood. “Oxen,” he said firmly and pointed again to the southwest.

Sam scrambled up on Prince. He looked at Gregor. “Will you show me?” he asked, holding his open palm toward the pond. He could now imagine it as clearly as if he had seen it himself.

But Gregor looked uncertain. He pointed along the track to the south and said a word that sounded very much like papa. Sam knew what he was saying. He had to go home now. Sam shrugged and smiled, trying to show Gregor that he didn't mind, though he really did.

Gregor smiled his wide smile. He made a beckoning gesture with his hand. He was saying, Come with me. So Sam followed.

He felt very shy as they rode up to the sod house. Gregor's father was on the roof of a long shed nailing poles in place. Sam thought that he was probably going to cover the poles with sod. Gregor went and spoke to him. The man did not smile at all, but Gregor kept explaining, pointing to Sam and in the direction of the pond.

At last Gregor's father nodded slowly, but Sam saw him look at the sun, which was nearing the horizon. Then he spoke firmly to Gregor. The tone of his voice made Sam think of his own father. Pa might come here looking for him. If only he could leave a message.

When Gregor came over to him, nodding that they could go now, Sam made writing motions in the palm of his hand, pointed to Gregor and to his father, then to himself and to a tall invisible figure beside him.

Gregor made a face and shook his head. He understood, but they had no paper or pen.

Sam thought a minute, got off Prince and took up a sharp stone. He found a smooth patch of dusty earth near the track and scratched out a message. “Pa, Gone to look for oxen. Not far. Sam.” He hoped the “not far” part was true.

Gregor looked at the message and nodded. He told his father about it and the man looked at Sam with a small smile of approval. Then he went back to his pounding, and Sam and Gregor guided their horses across the track and started west.

As they rode, the tall dry grass brushed their boots and a spray of grasshoppers rose before the horses' hoofs. The slanting late afternoon sunlight made everything golden. The boys couldn't talk to each other, but the sense that someone, a friend, was riding beside him filled Sam with excitement. It was as if they were setting off together on an adventure.

The sky was still blue, but an edge of clouds along the horizon seemed to be rising to meet the sun. They were dark underneath and touched with gold above. Sam was just about to point them out to Gregor when his friend said, “Sam,” and pointed ahead of him by lifting his chin. Sam looked. He could see the tops of trees rising above the grass.