Far From the Rowan Tree Day 37

Never in all my years of nursing had I seen eyes so full of pain as Ronald’s were now

Tractors and trailers raced in from the prairie loaded up with cut grass which was quickly deposited in the pits, allowing the tractors to roar out again for more.

The grass could sometimes be so dry that a hosepipe was erected to sprinkle it with water in order to make it ferment properly.

From time to time when the grass became high and unstable over the edge of the pit, a tractor had to run on top of it to tread it down.

Ronald usually got this job. It was a dicey occupation at the best of times but with the grass wet and slippery and Jacobs always demanding speed, it was downright dangerous.

One false move and the tractor could easily slip over the edge and turn turtle.

“Can’t help thinking,” said Ronald to me one evening, “Jacobs would just love to see me take a tumble on that pit one of these times. How he would laugh. He’s an odd man.”

Odd indeed to be so careless with the men’s lives and so careful with the children’s. They weren’t allowed anywhere near the pits while the silage was being made.

Obeyed

His orders were strict. The children listened. He was a man to be obeyed.

One day I saw little Mandy Jacobs running across the yard again.

I had just finished feeding Mahri-Louise, had laid her down in the pram and was looking out the window to see where the boys had got to.

They weren’t with her. She was on her own and came running up the steps quite out of breath. “What is it?” I said in alarm. “Mum says could you come over to the house. Something has happened to Ron.”

I momentarily froze with fear – the pain in his chest, tractors turning turtle!

Asking Mandy to keep an eye on the baby I flew over to the farmhouse looking neither to right nor left.

The Jacobs’ big Pontiac was purring at the door. As I arrived the screen door of the farmhouse had just banged shut behind Betty Jacobs and she was walking towards the car.

I saw Ronald slumped in the front seat. Running up to him I asked: “What’s wrong? Goodness me, what’s wrong?”

Ronald looked at me out of eyes filled with pain. “The water,” was all he could say.

“He’ll be all right,” butted in Betty Jacobs trying to calm the fear in my eyes. “He’s been drinking hose pipe water,” she explained quickly. “That water’s sure no good to anyone. There’s too much alkali.

“I’m taking him into hospital. They’ll give him an injection for the pain and probably keep him in overnight. I guess Ronald didn’t know about the water.”

I felt like saying “well for goodness sake could someone not have told him” but refrained. That was the problem. There were dangers but we didn’t know what they were and no one thought to tell us.

I put my hand through the open window and took Ronald’s hand in mine.

Full of pain

It was tense and clammy. He could hardly speak, the pain was so bad but characteristically, told me not to worry, that he’d be all right.

How I wished I’d had my Canadian licence and could get into our car with the kids and follow them into hospital.

Betty again assured me he would be OK. She had seen this sort of thing before. Never in all my years of nursing had I seen eyes so full of pain as Ronald’s were now.

“As soon as I come back I’ll come and tell you how he is,” she said. It was quite some time before Betty Jacobs returned. To me it seemed a lifetime but the news was good.

“They gave him an injection as soon as he got there,” she said.

“He’s feeling better already but they’re keeping him overnight, as I thought they would. I’ll go for him in the morning.”

Greatly relieved, I thanked her for her kindness. Just the same, I spent a sleepless night trying to keep at bay all the dire possibilities of Ronald’s condition, although I had no cause to disbelieve what Betty had told me. Next morning, true to her word, Ronald arrived back, pain quite gone but looking tired and shaken.

“He’s to take two to three days off,” Betty instructed.

When she left, Ronald said: “I’ll bet Jacobs is hopping mad at me being off work.”

“Never mind about him,” I said. “It’s his fault. He should have warned you about the water.”

“He’s an odd fellow,” Ronald continued. “I just don’t understand him. He saw me drinking from the hose yesterday but never said anything.

“It was such a hot day and making silage is so thirsty a job that I drank quite a lot.

“I couldn’t come over to the house and have a drink – that would be considered a waste of time.

“Perhaps he thought I would just get a sore stomach and that would be funny and yet I don’t know.

Blind rage

“There was one time, in the spring, I didn’t tell you about. He was in a blind rage about something. He very nearly killed me.

“Let a machine down when he knew I was underneath it. Just got out in the nick of time.

“Perhaps he thinks it funny making me jump but sometimes I get the feeling it’s more sinister than that.

“Don’t worry about it, though. I’m pretty careful these days. And it’s strange. He harms himself also, Here I am, off for a few days when he most needs me.”

I had been secretly worrying about Jacobs’ moods but at the moment saw no good in making a fuss about it.

“I know you’ll be careful,” was all that I said, “and in one way the bad water was a good thing. You need a rest. Jacobs does work you and Adrian far too hard.”

One thing that Ronald did during this unexpected break was to write to my mother – something he had been meaning to do for some time.

He never told me what he wrote in the letter. Many years were to pass before I came across it quite by chance. (More tomorrow.)