Wayne in BC
New member
There were few things more exciting than a Saturday trip to "Town" and when the boy heard the good news from his Uncle he was happy and eager. Although he seldom lacked for entertainment, a change from the usual and possibly some candy or other treat was welcome.
There were also some necessities that needed replenishing, like .22 ammo, first on the list of course. Then for a week or two he would not be carefully hoarding half a dozen bullets, or maybe three.
He knew that for the first few days he would feel flush with a full box of 50 and spend a few extra here and there shooting gophers but making sure that he had enough to keep the family supplied with grouse for the table as well as Jack Rabbits for the dogs and cats. He learned to be careful lest the womenfolk see him feeding gophers to the hogs and chickens, (who loved him for it) they had an odd attitude about that
This was a good town trip to the the "big" town, not the one with only two houses, a fuel dealer, and grain elevator some 7 miles away. Nope, this town, Coronation Alberta, was much larger, having some three or four hundred folk living there, even had a Pool Hall and a Theater! Time to count his meager cash supply.
36 cents was not an encouraging amount, about one weeks allowance. He may possibly, with a bit of whining, get another two bits. Of course he wanted some candy but did not intend to buy but a very little. His girl cousins who fortunately were not hooked on rifle ammo, would buy candy and he was sure he could con them out of some with a promise to do a bit extra of their chores, or perhaps they would leave it laying around and the dog would get blamed. He was wise beyond his 13 years!
At 26 cents for a box of ammo, he may even be able to get two boxes, such riches!
He liked it better when it was just him, his Dad, and Uncle who went to town "to get parts" cause he knew that after a few weeks of hot, dusty, heavy work, they would duck into the tavern after getting what they needed. Out of guilt they would sometimes give him as much as 50 cents to mind the truck until they got poured out of the bar and he would drive them home, them singing old war songs and the boy being proud to drive the 20 miles home like a real man would do. He was also reasonably immune to the carnage that would occur as his Mom and Aunt met them at the door
Today is thursday and two more sleeps before going to town he thought as he drove the team and buggy down the 3 miles of sand road to the field, bringing his Dad and Uncle their lunch. They were haying and he wanted to be there but had been told he was to help the women in the garden today and he was feeling pouty, no job for a man he reckoned! The garden was huge, no family could survive otherwise and the root cellar needed to be filled with potatoes, carrots, cabbage, etc. As well as hundreds of jars of home canned pickles, peas, beans, beets, and of course his favorite, Saskatoon (Service) berries and Raspberries. With some heavy cream they were nirvana!
As these thoughts went through his mind he failed to note that one horse, the bay mare as usual, was lagging on the job and by the time he noted the problem they had drifted to one side and the wheels were shuddering in the heavier sand. Angry he used the 6 ft of extra length on the lines to smack her one on the butt........then woke up with sand in his eyes and mouth while thoroughly stunned and disoriented!
continued.........
After some minutes of confusion and with the presence of a very large horses hoof planted in front of his now somewhat clearing eyes he lurched upright in panic but the old Clydesdale mare who was lazy but totally idiot proof, stood hipshot and uncaring while to his left the younger gelding pawed and fidgeted, held in place by the mare.
Slowly he took in his surroundings and it became clear by the broken pole on the ground in front of him what had happened. The "straw that broke the Camels back" became the well worn but now broken ring that held the pole.
When he had smacked the lazy horse she had lurched ahead and the gelding had not! The side pressure had snapped the ring, allowing the pole to drop and its tip to sink like a spear into the sand snapping two feet off the thinner end. This had flipped the Buggy up and ahead, launching him off the seat, and judging by the marks in the sand, right over the team and onto his face/head in the sand
All he could assume was that the pair of good horses had stopped immediately and even though almost certainly well startled, they had avoided stomping him!
Feeling dizzy and a bit nauseous, he did an inventory. All the lunch was still in the old wooden box, which because it had been at the front of the cargo area of the Buggy and under the seat slats it was undamaged. Opening the box because it was very important and in his care, he found that even both the large 2 quart glass preserving jars full of hot tea were sealed and undamaged and he sighed in relief.
Then a small panic set in.......where was his treasured singleshot .22!? Looking around frantically he finally saw it 10 feet to one side of the Buggy and standing straight up with several inches of the barrel in the sand! It seemed otherwise undamaged and he would take some old fence wire to unplug the barrel, but now to the real problem, how to deal with the broken pole and get lunch to the men?
Once again barbed wire was his friend, with three loops, a punctured leather glove, and some creative twisting along with a harness adjustment, he was good to go.
Arriving some 20 minutes late he had spent the trip watching the jury rigged pole carefully while still trying to hurry along and wondering what to tell the men. He felt sure that he was in trouble.
His progress through the field to the lunch spot on a small rise near a willow patch had been more slow and difficult due to the rougher ground and having to watch the pole which was, although secure, moving around some and the too short and sharp end could injure a horse badly should it hit their shoulder.
It took another 10 minutes of worry before his Dad and Uncle finished their "round" which was over a half mile, and came to lunch. On their arrival they both immediately rushed to him asking......what happened? Are you hurt? He was confused, wondering how they knew until his Dad gingerly touched his forehead, he had wiped away the blood paying it little attention at the time, having other more serious worries.........apparently he had a rather large purple knot and a cut on his forehead and a well skinned nose.
The headache and sore neck unmentioned, he plead good health as they used the drinking water to clean him up while he tried to explain, and to his surprise found himself a hero rather than a dumb kid but of course he had said nothing about smacking the old mare on the butt. Cautioned praise came for his ability to do a quick fix but concern for the danger of the broken pole to the horses.
After lunch he felt better and his Uncle took the reins of the Buggy, saying to he and Dad, jump in, a mile yonder at that abandoned ranch yard is an old Buggy with a good pole and ring, i had been thinking about using it some time back for this rig and wish i had now! It took maybe an hour to make the change as few tools were required and were in the box behind the seat on the old Massey tractor.
In those days of the mid to late 50's the old truck or car was seldom used as fuel and maintenance cost too much when horsepower was near free. The lone tractor was used as today for mowing then bucking the hay into stacks while he or his Dad with team of horses did duty on the rake and the other team which he had, was available for other chores.
Arriving home meant a fuss from his Mom and Aunt which he tolerated, then submitted to some home doctoring and was refused permission to opt out of the rest of the garden chores to go hunting! His choice instead was to go lay in bed or shuck peas and after the fourth attempt to read an old comic book in bed in the middle of a hot day, he sat at the wash tub full of peas
besides he needed the points and tomorrow was friday and one more sleep to "town day", could he parlay his foolishness cum heroism into some extra cash? He had also just learned that there was a Rodeo in town Saturday, Whooopppiiii!!!
Continued..............
On the last trip to town he had been reminded to avoid a fresh "short back and sides" bowl type haircut and not to wear his Stetson and boots. The town kids would yell..........hey lookit the hick! HAHA! At age 13 ish he was as most teens, sensitive to peer pressure and the need to fit in. Not so much that he felt he needed to fit in with them but more to avoid fights against superior numbers as his pride and redhead temper had cost him more than a few shiners and fat lips.
This trip he had an ace in the hole, a brand new silkish "Tom Jones shirt" which was the THE thing in town and he would wear it and thus blend in, he hoped.
Breakfast was early after an earlier than usual milking. It seemed to take forever to get 29 Cows hand milked when you were in a hurry ,no machines yet in those days, they had just got electrical power that winter, goodbye to coal oil lamps! Finally the women and kids were all squeezed into the old Mercury car and the the boy his Dad and Uncle into the ancient pickup and off!
A two vehicle trip was a big deal, all were happy as the miles got behind them in the morning sun and now the boy was thinking about the Rodeo that afternoon. In the junior division his entry was free and he intended to compete in two events. Bronc riding and Steer wrestling, no way to get his saddle horse there so he could not compete in the Calf roping...darn! He had his hat and boots along as well as his sneakers........
The first thing on the agenda once they got to town was for the women to scamper off to the variety store which was a small town version of the "five and dime" where they jabbered endlessly over sewing supplies, trinkets, etc. The men went first to the Elevator to check grain prices and jaw about politics.
This man stuff was heady but soon got boring and the boy hiked down the tracks a piece and headed for the hardware store. He had all of a dollar and eleven cents in his jeans, Mom and Dad had both succumbed to his pleading and he could get two boxes of ammo, plus cotton candy later at the Rodeo/Fair!
As he started up main street he saw several kids about his age hanging out in front of the Cafe. There were a couple of cute girls too but he knew better than to stop or say anything. The guys eyed him suspiciously and one said.......hey hick! wheredya get the shirt? A spate of laughter and he was past, feeling the flush come to his neck and his heart pound as he wished he could have a talk with them boys one on one!
One thing he had noticed though, at the Rodeos the girls did not call the Cowboys "hicks" they seemed to like them much better than the boys did and he wondered if that was why the boys were always so nasty to the ranch folk?
How was the boy to know that 30 years later real Cowboys would be much more rare and well esteemed and he would often not wear ranch garb in order to be not thought of as a "drugstore Cowboy".............
At the general store he browsed happily, looking through the glass case at the knives, coveting the many rifles that stood along the wall and also spent some time ogling the shiny new three speed CCM Bicycle that was so very expensive, an unattainable thirty six dollars!!! Finally he came to the counter and purchased his two boxes of "WhizBang" .22 long rifle, they were the most powerful of all and he was content .
He met his Dad and Uncle where he knew they would be, at the New Holland implement dealer. His Uncle had mentioned that one of those new Balers would be nice and they were looking at them. There may be a baler in the future but unlikely that it would be a new one at those prices. Soon they were off to the Rodeo grounds where they met the rest of the family and lunch was coming out of the trunk of the car. Thick fresh homemade bread sandwiches of roast pork, potato salad, pastries and cakes, lots of "Freshie" for the kids and tea for the adults, a picnic!
The boy was waiting nervously for his junior Steer wrestling (Calf not done off a horse but on foot) to start when it occurred to him that he had not brought a spare shirt! The Tom Jones shirt did not seem to fit well but he was committed and would not miss an event for such a silly reason and five minutes later he was in the arena and chasing a Calf.
Making a perfect zag when his target Calf zigged, he caught the tail, dragged till it stopped and was about to pounce on its neck to wrestle it down in record breaking time when the Calf vented its bowels in fright, all over the front of the boy and the new shirt! He hesitated, and hearing the sudden roar of laughter from the crowd lunged desperately and out of time to land in more calf crap and rose to stomp out of the arena hiding tears......
The boy never got to ride a bronc in that Rodeo, it was something he was quite good at but not today. There were wounds to lick and plans to make, he would walk around in the sun until his fine shirt was dry from the quick washing his Mother and Aunt had given it while saying how they could not understand him wearing that shirt into an event like that
He could not tell them that he had told a couple kids earlier (one was a cute girl) how good he was at Rodeo. Lesson learned, best not to brag, just do it
There were also some necessities that needed replenishing, like .22 ammo, first on the list of course. Then for a week or two he would not be carefully hoarding half a dozen bullets, or maybe three.
He knew that for the first few days he would feel flush with a full box of 50 and spend a few extra here and there shooting gophers but making sure that he had enough to keep the family supplied with grouse for the table as well as Jack Rabbits for the dogs and cats. He learned to be careful lest the womenfolk see him feeding gophers to the hogs and chickens, (who loved him for it) they had an odd attitude about that
This was a good town trip to the the "big" town, not the one with only two houses, a fuel dealer, and grain elevator some 7 miles away. Nope, this town, Coronation Alberta, was much larger, having some three or four hundred folk living there, even had a Pool Hall and a Theater! Time to count his meager cash supply.
36 cents was not an encouraging amount, about one weeks allowance. He may possibly, with a bit of whining, get another two bits. Of course he wanted some candy but did not intend to buy but a very little. His girl cousins who fortunately were not hooked on rifle ammo, would buy candy and he was sure he could con them out of some with a promise to do a bit extra of their chores, or perhaps they would leave it laying around and the dog would get blamed. He was wise beyond his 13 years!
At 26 cents for a box of ammo, he may even be able to get two boxes, such riches!
He liked it better when it was just him, his Dad, and Uncle who went to town "to get parts" cause he knew that after a few weeks of hot, dusty, heavy work, they would duck into the tavern after getting what they needed. Out of guilt they would sometimes give him as much as 50 cents to mind the truck until they got poured out of the bar and he would drive them home, them singing old war songs and the boy being proud to drive the 20 miles home like a real man would do. He was also reasonably immune to the carnage that would occur as his Mom and Aunt met them at the door
Today is thursday and two more sleeps before going to town he thought as he drove the team and buggy down the 3 miles of sand road to the field, bringing his Dad and Uncle their lunch. They were haying and he wanted to be there but had been told he was to help the women in the garden today and he was feeling pouty, no job for a man he reckoned! The garden was huge, no family could survive otherwise and the root cellar needed to be filled with potatoes, carrots, cabbage, etc. As well as hundreds of jars of home canned pickles, peas, beans, beets, and of course his favorite, Saskatoon (Service) berries and Raspberries. With some heavy cream they were nirvana!
As these thoughts went through his mind he failed to note that one horse, the bay mare as usual, was lagging on the job and by the time he noted the problem they had drifted to one side and the wheels were shuddering in the heavier sand. Angry he used the 6 ft of extra length on the lines to smack her one on the butt........then woke up with sand in his eyes and mouth while thoroughly stunned and disoriented!
continued.........
After some minutes of confusion and with the presence of a very large horses hoof planted in front of his now somewhat clearing eyes he lurched upright in panic but the old Clydesdale mare who was lazy but totally idiot proof, stood hipshot and uncaring while to his left the younger gelding pawed and fidgeted, held in place by the mare.
Slowly he took in his surroundings and it became clear by the broken pole on the ground in front of him what had happened. The "straw that broke the Camels back" became the well worn but now broken ring that held the pole.
When he had smacked the lazy horse she had lurched ahead and the gelding had not! The side pressure had snapped the ring, allowing the pole to drop and its tip to sink like a spear into the sand snapping two feet off the thinner end. This had flipped the Buggy up and ahead, launching him off the seat, and judging by the marks in the sand, right over the team and onto his face/head in the sand
All he could assume was that the pair of good horses had stopped immediately and even though almost certainly well startled, they had avoided stomping him!
Feeling dizzy and a bit nauseous, he did an inventory. All the lunch was still in the old wooden box, which because it had been at the front of the cargo area of the Buggy and under the seat slats it was undamaged. Opening the box because it was very important and in his care, he found that even both the large 2 quart glass preserving jars full of hot tea were sealed and undamaged and he sighed in relief.
Then a small panic set in.......where was his treasured singleshot .22!? Looking around frantically he finally saw it 10 feet to one side of the Buggy and standing straight up with several inches of the barrel in the sand! It seemed otherwise undamaged and he would take some old fence wire to unplug the barrel, but now to the real problem, how to deal with the broken pole and get lunch to the men?
Once again barbed wire was his friend, with three loops, a punctured leather glove, and some creative twisting along with a harness adjustment, he was good to go.
Arriving some 20 minutes late he had spent the trip watching the jury rigged pole carefully while still trying to hurry along and wondering what to tell the men. He felt sure that he was in trouble.
His progress through the field to the lunch spot on a small rise near a willow patch had been more slow and difficult due to the rougher ground and having to watch the pole which was, although secure, moving around some and the too short and sharp end could injure a horse badly should it hit their shoulder.
It took another 10 minutes of worry before his Dad and Uncle finished their "round" which was over a half mile, and came to lunch. On their arrival they both immediately rushed to him asking......what happened? Are you hurt? He was confused, wondering how they knew until his Dad gingerly touched his forehead, he had wiped away the blood paying it little attention at the time, having other more serious worries.........apparently he had a rather large purple knot and a cut on his forehead and a well skinned nose.
The headache and sore neck unmentioned, he plead good health as they used the drinking water to clean him up while he tried to explain, and to his surprise found himself a hero rather than a dumb kid but of course he had said nothing about smacking the old mare on the butt. Cautioned praise came for his ability to do a quick fix but concern for the danger of the broken pole to the horses.
After lunch he felt better and his Uncle took the reins of the Buggy, saying to he and Dad, jump in, a mile yonder at that abandoned ranch yard is an old Buggy with a good pole and ring, i had been thinking about using it some time back for this rig and wish i had now! It took maybe an hour to make the change as few tools were required and were in the box behind the seat on the old Massey tractor.
In those days of the mid to late 50's the old truck or car was seldom used as fuel and maintenance cost too much when horsepower was near free. The lone tractor was used as today for mowing then bucking the hay into stacks while he or his Dad with team of horses did duty on the rake and the other team which he had, was available for other chores.
Arriving home meant a fuss from his Mom and Aunt which he tolerated, then submitted to some home doctoring and was refused permission to opt out of the rest of the garden chores to go hunting! His choice instead was to go lay in bed or shuck peas and after the fourth attempt to read an old comic book in bed in the middle of a hot day, he sat at the wash tub full of peas
besides he needed the points and tomorrow was friday and one more sleep to "town day", could he parlay his foolishness cum heroism into some extra cash? He had also just learned that there was a Rodeo in town Saturday, Whooopppiiii!!!Continued..............
On the last trip to town he had been reminded to avoid a fresh "short back and sides" bowl type haircut and not to wear his Stetson and boots. The town kids would yell..........hey lookit the hick! HAHA! At age 13 ish he was as most teens, sensitive to peer pressure and the need to fit in. Not so much that he felt he needed to fit in with them but more to avoid fights against superior numbers as his pride and redhead temper had cost him more than a few shiners and fat lips.
This trip he had an ace in the hole, a brand new silkish "Tom Jones shirt" which was the THE thing in town and he would wear it and thus blend in, he hoped.
Breakfast was early after an earlier than usual milking. It seemed to take forever to get 29 Cows hand milked when you were in a hurry ,no machines yet in those days, they had just got electrical power that winter, goodbye to coal oil lamps! Finally the women and kids were all squeezed into the old Mercury car and the the boy his Dad and Uncle into the ancient pickup and off!
A two vehicle trip was a big deal, all were happy as the miles got behind them in the morning sun and now the boy was thinking about the Rodeo that afternoon. In the junior division his entry was free and he intended to compete in two events. Bronc riding and Steer wrestling, no way to get his saddle horse there so he could not compete in the Calf roping...darn! He had his hat and boots along as well as his sneakers........
The first thing on the agenda once they got to town was for the women to scamper off to the variety store which was a small town version of the "five and dime" where they jabbered endlessly over sewing supplies, trinkets, etc. The men went first to the Elevator to check grain prices and jaw about politics.
This man stuff was heady but soon got boring and the boy hiked down the tracks a piece and headed for the hardware store. He had all of a dollar and eleven cents in his jeans, Mom and Dad had both succumbed to his pleading and he could get two boxes of ammo, plus cotton candy later at the Rodeo/Fair!
As he started up main street he saw several kids about his age hanging out in front of the Cafe. There were a couple of cute girls too but he knew better than to stop or say anything. The guys eyed him suspiciously and one said.......hey hick! wheredya get the shirt? A spate of laughter and he was past, feeling the flush come to his neck and his heart pound as he wished he could have a talk with them boys one on one!
One thing he had noticed though, at the Rodeos the girls did not call the Cowboys "hicks" they seemed to like them much better than the boys did and he wondered if that was why the boys were always so nasty to the ranch folk?
How was the boy to know that 30 years later real Cowboys would be much more rare and well esteemed and he would often not wear ranch garb in order to be not thought of as a "drugstore Cowboy".............
At the general store he browsed happily, looking through the glass case at the knives, coveting the many rifles that stood along the wall and also spent some time ogling the shiny new three speed CCM Bicycle that was so very expensive, an unattainable thirty six dollars!!! Finally he came to the counter and purchased his two boxes of "WhizBang" .22 long rifle, they were the most powerful of all and he was content .
He met his Dad and Uncle where he knew they would be, at the New Holland implement dealer. His Uncle had mentioned that one of those new Balers would be nice and they were looking at them. There may be a baler in the future but unlikely that it would be a new one at those prices. Soon they were off to the Rodeo grounds where they met the rest of the family and lunch was coming out of the trunk of the car. Thick fresh homemade bread sandwiches of roast pork, potato salad, pastries and cakes, lots of "Freshie" for the kids and tea for the adults, a picnic!
The boy was waiting nervously for his junior Steer wrestling (Calf
not done off a horse but on foot) to start when it occurred to him that he had not brought a spare shirt! The Tom Jones shirt did not seem to fit well but he was committed and would not miss an event for such a silly reason and five minutes later he was in the arena and chasing a Calf.Making a perfect zag when his target Calf zigged, he caught the tail, dragged till it stopped and was about to pounce on its neck to wrestle it down in record breaking time when the Calf vented its bowels in fright, all over the front of the boy and the new shirt! He hesitated, and hearing the sudden roar of laughter from the crowd lunged desperately and out of time to land in more calf crap and rose to stomp out of the arena hiding tears......
The boy never got to ride a bronc in that Rodeo, it was something he was quite good at but not today. There were wounds to lick and plans to make, he would walk around in the sun until his fine shirt was dry from the quick washing his Mother and Aunt had given it while saying how they could not understand him wearing that shirt into an event like that
He could not tell them that he had told a couple kids earlier (one was a cute girl) how good he was at Rodeo. Lesson learned, best not to brag, just do it
