C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
Haying season vaulted into full swing as the dog days of July continued to bestow sunshine on the hay makers. The summer heat was a double-edged sword, as it would take a toll on the cereal crops if a general rain didn't intervene. Robert Milto hired an extra crew to mow, rake and bale the prairie wool of several large meadows, or flats as they were customarily referred to, on the more accessible pasture land west of ranch headquarters. The bulk of the rancher's winter feed supply, though, was harvested in the form of silage cut from fall rye crops sown on the light farm land bordering the eastern edge of the big spread. Because it coincided with haying season, additional help was required for this annual project. The rancher was able to hire local farm lads for the operation and, generally, they were quite adept at handling the machinery. Silaging involved cutting the ripening rye crop and laying it in swathes; these were then picked up by a silage harvesting machine drawn by a powerful tractor; the harvester chopped up the feed and blew it into a large wagon. In the Milto operation, two large grain trucks with high racks installed above the boxes were used and these would creep along beside the harvester, collecting the heavy green silage as it was spewed out of a high curved spout attachment. While one truck filled, the other would be in the process of hauling its load to dump at a specially built pit silo. The procedure was labour intensive, but did not take long, weather permitting. The 'pit' was a wide slit gouged out of the top of a low rise near the ranch's tree sheltered wintering pens. Robert Milto had hired the municipal road building crew to do the excavation work. It was the first of its kind anywhere near Stockton. The trucks offloaded in the pit while yet another equipment operator maintained constant vigilance, packing down the high moisture feed by driving over it repeatedly with a farm tractor.
This season, ample rain until mid June this season had provided the area with a bountiful hay and rye crop. Most years Robert Milto put up as much feed as was available. Unpredictable winters could be long and a big herd required huge quantities of fodder, especially during extended cold snaps. If there was excess hay in the spring, it would keep over the summer to be used first next winter.
Robert and Sven kept the machinery in top condition with a regular servicing and strict attention to maintenance; this diligence held mechanical breakdowns to a minimum when the crops were ready. The adage 'Make hay while the sun shines' applied both literally and figuratively.
These were very busy days for Milt and her mother as they prepared all the food for the hired help. Milt delivered hot lunches to the haying crews out on the flat while the silage workers, who were in closer proximity, came to the ranch house to take their meals. Robert Milto paid excellent wages but the young hired hands put in very long days, literally sun-up to sundown. If he felt the job deserved it, the rancher gave the lads a healthy bonus. This incentive encouraged the diligent who in turn extracted a good performance from the occasional would be slacker. Several of the workers had been recruited in past years and these were valued employees as they knew the ropes. This season, as a favour to Dr. and Mrs. O'Brien, the Miltos hired the doctor's nephew, Tom, for the young man was eager to glean further first hand knowledge of the western cattle industry. Trying not to interfere with the regulars, Robert Milto accommodated Tom in as many positions as possible during the 'putting up' of the feed. The Torontonian, though not practised in the operation of farm equipment, was adroit at driving the big silage trucks and he made only a few minor slips before mastering the knack of maintaining position beside the moving silage machine. One endless day of running the packing tractor in the silage pit was enough for the adventurous Tom, so Robert sent him out to the hay flat with the haying crew. Here the young lad had plenty of opportunity to expend his boundless energy as he was placed on the flat decked bale wagon directly behind the hay baler. Prairie wool made light-weight bales compared to green oats but hour on end of carrying, lifting and stacking the bundles could wear a man down, especially if not seasoned to the work. Tom had help stacking the first load but was then on his own. It proved to be a long and arduous day for him. Sven drove the tractor while pulling the baler and bale wagon. When the load reached a certain level, the Norwegian would disconnect the hay rack and hook onto an empty second wagon. At this point, a lad named Charlie, who did the raking with a side delivery unit, would disconnect his machine and use his tractor to haul the loaded rack back to ranch headquarters. Milt assisted with the offloading and stacking in the feed yard.
At lunchtime, when the crew had gathered, Tom talked Sven into giving him a break from stacking to haul a load in to the ranch so he could see the re-stacking operation. Sven's blue eyes twinkled while listening to the young man's appeal. “Could be you vant to be vorking with Milt, jah?”
Milt, who had just delivered the food baskets, blushed, as did Tom O'Brien, but neither responded to the jibe. The two teenagers had become friends the evening of the Miltos' branding. They had accompanied Milt's father when, around nine o'clock, the rancher had driven back out to the holding corrals to make a final check of the cattle and turn them loose. The easterner's boyish enthusiasm, tempered by a mature keen interest, had kept father and daughter busy fielding a plethora of questions.
Milt left her truck parked while the crew took their lunch break and, with Tom riding on the fender of the tractor, hauled the hay rack to the feed yard. In their absence Charlie took Tom's job on the baling wagon. The country girl gave the city lad operating instructions for this tractor as it had several minor differences ?starting procedure, shift pattern and a hand clutch? from the packing unit Tom had run the previous day in the silage pit. They worked together in the hot July sun with Milt tossing bales off the rack and Tom piling them neatly and firmly on the growing bale stack.
The feed yard was a very large enclosure with a ten foot high page wire fence surrounding it to keep the voracious herds of mule deer and whitetail out during the winter months. Robert Milto didn't begrudge the wildlife access to food and, in tough winters, put extra feed out for them. However, their table manners were such that more hay was wasted than consumed. The yard was big enough to allow sufficient separation between the hay piles, minimizing loss in the event a fire should ignite in any one of the stacks.
Tom drove the tractor and Milt took up the passenger position on the return trip. Sven and Charlie already had approximately half a new load made by the time Milt and Tom arrived at the meadow. Charlie recommenced raking hay, Tom stacked bales as Sven produced them and Milt drove the truck back to the ranch to assist her mother until the next load came in.
During the noon lunch break Sven had predicted a change in the weather. Confirmation came that evening when a fierce thunderstorm brought half an inch of rain to the thirsty land. This halted the Milto's haying operation for a day, giving the crew a brief reprieve. Tom O'Brien especially needed the break. The young man felt so stiff and sore from stacking bales that he had difficulty climbing out of bed the next morning. The storm had delivered a crop devastating burst of hail in a concentrated area near Stockton but the amount of precipitation had varied widely throughout the remainder of the community.
Lightning had blasted a six pin open wire stretch running out of Stockton. Danny Reid was on the job as quickly as the storm passed to replace several poles and cross-arms, reconstructing the line. Almost every subscriber on the multi circuit loop had their fuses and carbons blasted to oblivion. The young lineman methodically replaced each set. Remote customers were without service for two days, but no one complained and several farmers living near the line break pitched in to help Danny put the system back in operation.
The last to have service restored was Robert Milto as he, being the sole subscriber on the circuit, ranked a lower priority. The silaging and hay crews, now back on the job, were just leaving for the day when a very tired Danny Reid drove his line truck along the verdantly treed lane into the Milto yard. He parked at the underground breakout point just at dusk on the second day following the storm. Robert Milto and Sven Larson had been talking with the workers, and now made their way over to the line truck.
Robert, noticing the dark stubble on the repairman's face and the tiredness in his eyes, said, “You've been burning the candle at both ends, Danny.”
“Evening, Robert, Sven. Yes, I've been busy.” Danny said, as he dragged himself out of the truck cab. “Vera says everyone is up and running except you. Hopefully it's just blown fuses. Oh, yes, she says 'Hi' to you, Sven.”
Sven nodded and flashed a small grin as he touched his tongue to the paper of a cigarette he had just rolled. He put the roll-your-own in his mouth and the yellow sack of Dominion back in his shirt pocket, then struck a wooden match with a nicotine stained thumbnail. As the smoke wafted in the still evening air, Danny noted the distinct odour of the tobacco. He smiled at the Scandinavian. “That's the smoke I've noticed at Vera Mitchell's house from time to time! I've wondered about that more than once.”
Robert said. “Sven's been burning the candle at both ends too, I'd say. If he had confided in me I could have given some slack at this end.”
“How's the haying going?” Danny asked. “I see the rain didn't hold you up long.”
“What did we end up with from that shower, Sven?”
“Von half of an inch, in the gauge in front of the howess. I heard more rain came in some more other spots, jah?”
“Yes,” Danny acknowledged. “Some heavy stuff here and there and a spot of hail that pounded the crop into the mud nearer town.”
“Two more days should wrap up the silaging and how much time do you calculate for haying, Sven?”
“With godt veather, ve'll be done in two days… maybe a little more.”
Sven and the rancher continued talking with the lineman as he opened up the breakout for yard distribution and tested the individual lines. “I'll just scrape the smoke off the carbons and change the fuses and you should be back on line….”
Danny checked the arrestors at the barn and shop then visited the house. Robert Milto invited the repairman in for a coffee after finding the circuit now tested okay. Constance Milto quickly made a light lunch for Danny while Robert brought cups from the counter and poured coffee for all three. Milt emerged from the bathroom with her hair wrapped up in a damp towel.
“Hi, Danny.”
“Hello, Button, still pitching hay bales, are you?”
She made a face at her father. “Yes, I have to keep up with the men because Dad wanted a son.”
Everyone laughed at this admission and Mrs. Milto said, “But, I wanted a daughter so she is doing double duty in the kitchen, too.”
Danny shifted the topic round to the new dial phone system and though they discussed the topic at length he detected nothing peculiar in the Miltos' speech. However, he felt so tired that even the normal conversation was sketchy.
After thanking Connie for the snack, the lineman soon took his leave. As he pulled on to the main road at the end of the long driveway and headed south, a moment of recollection flashed across his tired mind vivid as the lightning in the sky two nights past. As often happened to Danny, the circumstances of being in a familiar neighbourhood triggered thoughts of previous occurrences. For example, a song which may have been playing on the radio of the line truck as he cruised along a dirt road would pop into his head as he passed through the same specific location on a later date. This time, the lineman recalled chatting with Milt as she sat up on her big gelding last spring, in this very spot, just south of Milto headquarters. In parting she had said, “It's not like anyone is connected to the….” Now what word did she use? Internet?”
“Yes!” Danny exclaimed, pounding the steering wheel. “She said connecting to the Internet!”
“But… what the hell is the Internet?”
…The days of mower and rake have gone by, most people use a haybine for cutting their hay now. But you couldn't beat the old sickle mower for lopping off the short tough prairie wool out on the big flats…
Submitted by Leonard Yeast
<<<Chapter 12 Chapter 14>&tg;>