Isles
The pity
she could see in their eyes simply doubled her determination. She would make it, all in one piece. She was stronger than they ever thought to
be. They were good neighbors. They meant
no harm. They could empathize with her,
but hopefully never have to experience her grief first hand. The loss of her children.
Jennie Alexander married James G. Isles, to the envy of every other girl in the
county. Creating a blacksmith forge in
his barn, James continued one of the trades he honed while in the army. James returned from the Great War with his
30-06 he had used as a sniper and enough military pay to put a down payment on
640 acres of bottom land in the Thumb area of Michigan.
One
square mile of farmland. One square mile
of hard, back breaking work to clear the land.
Once square mile of picking up rocks and stones to make way for grains
and corn. The land was too good to raise
animals for anything other than their personal eating. The land was fertile and just waiting for
seed.
James’
startling blue eyes, tall muscular build, red hair, and quick wit were quite a
contrast to the wide eyed Jennie. Her
dark hair and big brown eyes were as legendary as her pies. They made such a contrasting couple, their
friends speculated what their children would look like.
With
such a large parcel of land, James quickly acquired eight teams of horses. Eight teams so one could rest every day while
the other seven were driven by the hired crews.
With so many teams, he often hired his team and crews out to other
farmers for plowing, tilling, and harvesting.
James was a shrewd business man and a loyal trustworthy friend. The community
worked together to become rather
prosperous. Jennie couldn't be more proud
of him. He was becoming everything she
had envisioned he could be.
Across
Isles Street, named for the family, lived the McDougall family. Archie McDougall had moved his family into
the adjoining square mile soon after James and Jennie. Close friends and competitive adversaries,
the two families leaned on one another to make their rural farms come to
life. If Archie McDougall needed
anything James Isles had, all he need do was mention it and it was quickly
loaned and vice versa. The two families
were as close as any two families could be.
Winter
and mid Spring were the two best seasons, in Jenny’s opinion. Winter was more of an idle time. The harnesses needed to be rubbed with oils
and the horses got their personal attention.
Jenny and James had time to themselves and time to visit friends and
relatives. Life was a bit more
quiet. Quiet that is until James and
Archie decided it was rat time.
Rat time
on the farm seemed to involve an awful lot of shouting. The shouting consisted mostly of “over there”
or “got ‘im” or “it’s a big un”! All
this joined with the clamor of gun fire.
The county paid two cents each for the pelts to keep the vermin
down. That money was a fine welcome when
Jenny was getting low staples or in need of material for making maternity
clothes. It was a welcome diversion for
the two grown boys as well.
James
was always on the go. Busy with county
business, as the Treasurer he needed to make his rounds. As the only blacksmith in the county, he
tried to combine as many of his business trips as he could, but it seemed there
was always someone in need of his attention.
That left Jennie to shoulder much of the work on the farm, watch the
hired hands, and take care of the household. It was a busy life, but knowing
the hard work was for her own family made it all worthwhile.
The barn
just behind and downhill from the house, held the animals toward the front of
the barn and the smithy to the back.
This way, the men could round the barn and enjoy a smoke or a
drink. In the loft of the barn there was
naturally hay stored, also any of the hired single men were welcome to bunk up
there. Mostly, the men who stayed on the farm ate with the family. Learning to cook for that many people took
some time. Balancing “enough” food into
eight hard working men was almost more than their wood cook stove could handle.
Jenny’s deep dish pies were nearly as
tasty as her Sunday morning flap-jacks. Trading
smoked hams for honey or maple syrup was the best swap she could think of.
It was a
Tuesday, she recalled. It was a Tuesday
in March. James had gone to a
neighboring farm to check on their plow team’s shoes. It was the time of year when every farm was
gearing up for planting. The horses
hooves were checked and double checked.
The harnesses were oiled and buffed again, making certain there were no
leather burrs to harm the animals. The
plows were cleaned and any blade repairs double checked. It was nearly planting time, the promise of
spring was on the air. The red-winged
blackbirds and red-breasted robins were just beginning to flit through the
fields and barn yards claiming their portion of the grains.
They
were just boys. They were supposed to be
checking to see if the ewes had given birth.
Knowing the ewes seemed to prefer a good stormy night to an uneventful
still night to give birth, the boys were dispatched giving them something useful
to do. The smell of smoke and fire were
ever present in the air, nothing seemed amiss until she went out to hang
laundry.
Basket
dropping from her hands, the barn on fire, Jenny screamed for her children as
she raced to free the screaming horses.
The front gate opened, animals tearing out of the barnyard, Jenny had to
dodge huge draft horses and wild eyed cows in an effort to find the children
and not be charged over. The goat and
the sheep were at the lean-to, the boys were not. Dear God, the boys are not with the
sheep.
Running
to the back of the barn, to the smith area, Jennie could tell. She knew.
Her babies. Her boys. The gas container was too close to the
fire. Dear God, the gas container was still
in the oldest one’s hands.
Jennie shook her head, looked at her surroundings and realized, she was no longer at
the farm. She wasn't that young mother
with three young boys, the youngest still in swaddling. She was sitting in the hospital, in her
rocker. The eyes looking at her were not
those of her neighbors, but those of the other patients. Tears running down her cheeks, she determined
she would make it. She was stronger than
they ever thought to be. They didn't know anything about fortitude.
leigh
