‘It’s not such a bad old wilderness after all,’ Ronald said as he helped me put the boys to bed. ‘No,’ I answered in hopeful tones

Everything was placed neatly. Jacobs was a well-organised and tidy man. Implements rarely suffered from rust in this dry cold climate, so things left outside came to no harm. Even heaps of grain were left out over the frozen winter. Our house sat in a slight hollow and was screened off from the rest of the yard by a large triangle of scrub trees.

They were mostly birches with silver-white trunks which in letters home to my mother I called cottonwoods, thinking it made them sound different and exciting.

This wood was the one untidy bit of the yard, with small implements lying here and there, plus three old iron barrels and an unusual galvanised tub which turned out to be an early washing machine with hand-operated plungers.

In front of the wood sat a tall and ancient ranch wagon. At the far end of the shack, above a stretch of grass grown wild ran a long washing line strung between two wooden poles.

Near to it sat a rickety saw bench and a pile of unsawn timber.

Precious

Directly across from the cabin, between Mrs Jacobs’ garden and the feed lot, stood our outside toilet, a two seater of ample dimensions. Diagonally across, in the garage at the side of the farmhouse, was a tap which gave us our water supply.

It was a long way to go for water. It seemed especially long on the return journey, when arms were nearly pulled out of sockets by the weight of the full pails.

It is perhaps unnecessary to mention that I learned to conserve water and that the precious fluid was used for many things before it was finally flung out.

At first, of course, we had only a cursory view of all this. Jacobs left us at the door of the shack after helping us in with our luggage.

Before leaving he said: “When you folks get sorted out come over to the house and Betty will fix a meal for you all.”

I presumed Betty was his wife. Surprised at this unexpected kindness, I was perhaps over-profuse in my thanks.

Darkness had fallen by the time we climbed down the veranda steps and walked through the inch of fine fresh snow to the Jacobs’ back door.

Unlike our house, the farmhouse had no trees near it. It stood starkly open to the four prairie winds. It looked better at night, its shabby whiteness hidden in the darkness.

A yellow glow coming from one window lay reflected diagonally in four squares on the white ground. The house looked warm and inviting.

The woman’s voice too, that shouted to us to come in when we reached the door, was friendly. We entered and took our snow boots off in the small porch, placing them on the pages of the Prairie Gazette laid there for that purpose.

The smell of cooking beef was in the air mixed with the fine aroma of percolating coffee. Mrs Jacobs introduced herself. “Hi you folks, nice to see you. I’m Betty Jacobs.”

Astonished

Mrs Jacobs was tall, slim and neatly dressed. She might have been termed pretty but for the unbecoming spectacles she wore. Her bearing was a little reserved but friendly for all that.

She introduced us to their two pretty daughters, Mandy and Susan. Soon, we were all crammed round her table in her new kitchen, enjoying hamburgers with apple pie and cream to follow.

The talk round the table was kept fairly general but we learned that before Betty Jacobs was married she had been the local teacher and the farmhouse had actually been the old schoolhouse where she had lived.

Recently a new school had been built in Sandyhills and a new house to go with it. The Jacobs had bought the old one and brought it to the farm in sections.

Our little house had also been brought, only recently, from a nearby homestead. I was astonished at all this shifting of houses. It wasn’t so much take up your bed and walk as “take up your house and travel!”

We didn’t stay long after we had eaten. It had been all too much for Ronnie. He had fallen asleep at the table. We thanked the Jacobs for their hospitality and made our way back across the yard. Jacobs had put on the outside light so that we could see where we were going. We climbed up the steps of our cabin and opened the two doors. There was a wonderful warm glow coming from the fire that Ronald had banked up with logs before we left. The aroma of woodsmoke was everywhere.

“It’s not such a bad old wilderness after all,” Ronald said as he helped me put the boys to bed.

“No,” I answered in hopeful tones. I felt the tension of the last few months slowly slipping from my shoulders.

“No it’s not,” I said again thoughtfully. “I expect it’s too early to say for sure but I think we’ve fallen among better people.”

Jacobs was a very different kind of man to Muller. Within a week of our arrival he said to Ronald: “I see your wife’s expecting a baby.”

Cheated

The Mullers had never once mentioned the fact although it was obvious to all. “Has she seen a doctor since coming to Canada?” Jacobs inquired, in a matter-of-fact manner. “No,” Ronald replied, “there’s never been the opportunity.”

“Well, she’ll need to pay a visit to the doctor in Sandyhills as soon as possible and he’ll book her into the local hospital for the delivery.

“We sure have a good hospital here. It’s new – one of the most up-to-date in Alberta. Betty’ll make an appointment for her and take her to the surgery.”

That same week Ronald tentatively told Jacobs that he would like to purchase a second-hand car, saying that he could afford to do so if it wasn’t too expensive.

“No problem,” said Jacobs at once. “I’ll take you to the best used car lot around. You sure can get cheated by some of them if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Jacobs seemed pleased that Ronald could afford to buy a car. We certainly would not have been able to on the pay given to us by Jacobs, which was even less than we had received from Muller. Higher wages were given for work in a dairy.

(More tomorrow.)