The Serial: Far From the Rowan Tree Day 50

We saw the lights of Edmonton twinkle invitingly, dancing and shimmering the way lights in the distance do in that curious half-light that heralds night

Pioneer wasn’t unlike Sandyhills, only smaller and more run down. It had a straggle of frame houses with paint peeling from the walls, a general store and flat-roofed post office which were closed, a run down gas station and a bulky frame hotel. Down by the railroad the ubiquitous grain elevator gleamed in the sun and towered above the town, dwarfing another old frame house beside it and several derailed railway carriages that appeared to be inhabited.

The township boasted only one main street and, as Mandy had warned me, was unpaved. In fact, today, after the deluge of rain, it was a sea of mud.

Not far from the general store there was one other small shop. It appeared to be open.

“Stop here,” I said. “I’ll go and see if they’ve any Coke. You’d better not draw up too near the sidewalk, you might get stuck in the mud.”

I opened the door of the car and gingerly stepped out into mud. I didn’t want Ronald to get his shoes dirty when interviewed for a job but it wouldn’t matter about mine.

Wobbly sidewalk

Soon I was standing on the wobbly wooden sidewalk and opening the screen door. It appeared to be a kind of coffee shop.

A large counter ran the whole length of it where one or two men sat up on high stools drinking coffee out of greasy mugs.

The whole interior looked none too clean. I was glad I was in for Coke in cans.

I felt all eyes watching me but no one spoke. The only sounds were the buzzing of a fly and the whizz and splutter of a coffee machine.

I asked for five cans of Coke. The man behind the counter reached up and brought them down from a shelf, wiping off the dust with his sleeve.

He placed them on the counter, baldly stating what I was due him.

I paid him and as I turned to leave he spoke. “You strangers around here?” I said yes and made a hasty exit.

I clutched the cans tightly to me, fearful they would fall in the mud and waded over to the car.

“Some place that was,” I said to Ronald. “Let’s get out of here and stop somewhere on the highway to drink.”

Ronald started up the engine and tried to move off. I could feel the back wheels spinning in the mud. I had visions of having to return to the coffee shop and ask for assistance to push but a few more attempts and we were off and thankfully lurched our way back on to the highway again. “Satisfied?” asked Ronald. I said nothing but mentally decided not to ask again to see places with interesting names.

The advertised farm was more easily found than we had expected. It was quite close to Edmonton and on the east side, so that we didn’t have to go through the city. That was a relief.

Restless

When we actually pulled into the farm, however, our stomachs slumped. It was not what we had expected at all and certainly didn’t live up to what was said in the advertisement. “What a dump,” said Ronald. I agreed. “Just the same,” I said, “if the owner seems a nice guy and the wages are good, don’t refuse the job. This place is much more convenient for getting another job, perhaps in the city.”

“Anyone that tells such lies in an advertisement can’t be all that good,” said Ronald sceptically.

I said no more and Ronald got out of the car to go and look for the owner. The children were getting restless and hungry. I got out the plastic container of sandwiches. It was quite some time before Ronald returned. His face told me that all was not well.

“I’m definitely not coming here,” he said after he got back into the driving seat. “Did you see Doctor Knight?” I asked. “No and I have no wish to,” came the answer. “I was speaking to the man who is working here now. He showed me round.

“To begin with he really tried to be enthusiastic and then all of a sudden said: ‘Look, you seem like a nice guy and I see you have a wife and young kids. Take my advice and don’t come here. I shouldn’t be telling you this. I’m not doing myself any good. The sooner Doc can get someone else, the sooner I can leave – I don’t know why I don’t just blow anyway.

‘The Doc promises you the earth and it’s just a load of nonsense. The accommodation is terrible, the pay is worse and he leaves you to do everything singlehanded!’”

We drove away in silence, each vowing never to quite believe a Canadian advertisement again.

We headed for home as darkness was descending. Looking behind we saw the many lights of Edmonton twinkle invitingly, dancing and shimmering the way lights in the distance do in that curious half-light that heralds night.

Darkness

Brightest of all, on the eastern outskirts of the city a field of catalytic crackers rose in sparkling farewell. Close to, they had looked like tall steel Christmas trees decorated with fairy lights.

In front of us there were no lights, only the pale gold glow of acres of green-gold wheat almost ready for the combines.

As darkness came down in earnest the fields became dusty and indistinct. Soon the lights of the car probed into the empty darkness, showing us little more than the gravel channels in front of the wheels.

The car swung easily along, however and to brighten our flagging spirits we started to sing.

The boys joined in, humming when they weren’t sure of the words. Even Mahri-Louise started to croon.

We had travelled about 30 miles in this fashion when Ronald said: “Am I imagining things or are these headlamps growing dimmer?”

I hadn’t been paying much attention but began to take more notice. It was quite true. The lights weren’t very bright. As the car continued to eat up the miles their light became weaker and weaker.

Ronald stopped the car and got out. (More tomorrow.)

By Margaret Gillies Brown