The Serial: Far From the Rowan Tree Day 75

Grandpa had enjoyed the easy walk and the feel of wild country. He loved to be with the grandchildren – it made him feel young

Ronald would have to decide what to do – go back to Scotland and farm 300 acres of good clay land in the Carse of Gowrie or sell it and return to Canada.

His father no longer treated him as a minor, telling him what he must do – the decision was Ronald’s alone. Ronald didn’t make up his mind all at once. He was happy with his work here in Canada and he could see it was a land of great opportunity. His father was putting on no pressures.

No more being wakened in the middle of the night as he had been as a teenager, to be asked if he was sure he wanted to be a farmer.

In order to get peace to go back to sleep Ronald would give the required answer which had to be yes.

In Scotland he couldn’t discuss things with his father. It had to be father’s way or no way. Now it was different.

“I’ll see,” said Ronald. “I’ll come back this winter and make up my mind one way or the other.

“If I do sell up, with the money that I get for the farm, I’d be able to buy so much here. The bargains that I see!

Bargain

“Often I think if only I had the money to invest in things myself. Not long ago, Dad, there was a drained lake for sale only 20 miles or so from here.

“It grows beautiful grass, will make an excellent farm because of that extra bit of moisture it attracts.

“Empire Real Estate acquired it, much to the annoyance of the local farmers who had been using it for years for hay.

“I got the job of selling it but was warned not to go out to the place alone.

“‘Take someone with you,’ they said in the office, ‘another real estate man.’ It was sold not long ago to a farmer from Calgary – a real bargain.”

While father-in-law was with us another bargain came up – a farm in Drayton Valley, an area that was developing fast.

One Saturday we all piled into the car, Ronald’s father in the front seat beside his son and me squashed in the back with all the kids. We headed for Drayton Valley.

It was a wonderful day in early summer. Directions took us off the main drag on to what was little more than a track through the bush.

The terrain around was hilly and covered in trees. It reminded me of home.

Eventually we came to a plain wooden cabin, shabby and isolated. There was no one about. The silence was so pronounced you were very much aware of it. The rickety door of the cabin was half open. Ronald pushed it further and went in. There were signs of recent habitation.

The fire in the potbellied stove wasn’t quite out. Everything was in a clutter. There was no furniture to speak of– a table, chairs, a bunk type bed.

We had heard that the owner had always lived there on his own.

He did a bit of trapping but now he was over 70 years old and his doctor had said he must live nearer to civilisation.

Strawberries

We had taken a picnic with us. Ronald decided to wait a while to see if he would return. He knew we were coming.

The shack was in a hollow surrounded by small hills that swept gently backward.

The boys rambled up the grassy slopes and discovered the tiniest of wild strawberries upon which we all feasted. They were very sweet.

We followed the track further and came to a babbling river of clearest water, not like the muddy Saskatchewan. We had our picnic down by its banks.

Grandpa had enjoyed the easy walk and the feel of wild country. He loved to be with the grandchildren – it made him feel young.

We wandered back to the shack after everything was eaten, Ronald carrying Grant, me carrying the picnic basket. Still no human to be seen.

We were just about to leave when we heard the thud thud of hooves and a horse appeared through the trees carrying an old man on its back.

From either side of the saddle hung bulging saddlebags. He jumped off his horse with amazing agility for a man of over 70 and tied it to a ring on the rock.

“You the real estate guy?” he said to Ronald. “Sure sorry I kept you waiting.

“I’ve just been off getting my monthly groceries from the store 10 miles away. Didn’t think I’d take so darn long.”

He insisted we have a cup of coffee. He wanted to talk and said he was selling against his better judgement.

He’d been in the same place for all his years, he said. This was home; he had known no other but the doctor had advised him.

He might have taken no notice of what he said but everything was going to change anyway. A pipeline was coming through quite near.

There would be new roads, nothing would be the same. Also he had not long lost a faithful companion – his dog.

Enraged

It was a bad day, one of the worst in his life, when he had to shoot him but the dog just wouldn’t leave bear cubs alone and thus enraged the mothers.

He had nearly lost his life several times over the head of the dog. It was sad that this old timer had to move away.

Sometime after father-in-law left, he came to stay with us for a day or two while finalising the sale of his land.

He couldn’t sleep for the fearful noise – the fridge in our kitchen.

Now that the quarrel was over between Ronald and his father I enjoyed having him with us. He was fond of the children and pampered them.

For a time, after he first came, he used to sit on a cheap couch and chuckle. I was curious. “What amuses you so much?” I asked.

“It’s just the contrast,” he said, “between Eileen in Vancouver and you here.

“She lives in the lap of luxury – white carpets, silk bedspreads, the latest in electrical equipment etc, and beautiful antiques.”

(More tomorrow.)