Magpie Summer Excerpt

Chapter 1 – Saturday, April 15, 1967

Although it was mid April, Allie dressed in multiple layers, as she had since she was a little girl. Her Mom had always bundled her up in layer upon layer until she walked like a penguin: tights, waffle weave underwear, pants, tee shirt, turtle neck, sweater, hooded sweat shirt, coat, insulated coveralls, knit hat, light gloves – and two pairs of mittens – one set on and the other in her coat pocket. The first pair of mittens would undoubtably get wet but could be drying on the dashboard of the pickup while she wore the second set. One might think she was on a polar expedition when she had just been feeding cattle with her dad and grandpa.

If she rode far in the pickup she was soon peeling layers off until the seat looked like the remnants of a rummage sale. Her grandpa Con feiged great irritation, grumbling, “Kid, you’re like riding with a goddamned snake shedding it’s skin.” On the other hand, when she scrambled into the back of the pickup with the cattle feed he grumbled, “Dammit, Connor, you’re gonna freeze that kid to death.” They had finally worked out a routine that kept peace. Allie rode in the cab to the first gate, then she got on the load of cake with her dog Doofus.

Three cows left the feed ground as they fed, a sure sign they were ready to calve. Heavy, gray clouds dropped their load of mixed moisture – snow, sleet and freezing rain – as they finished feeding and churned through the mud toward home. Connor and Allie saddled three horses, then left them in the barn munching hay while they ate the dinner Jen had ready. Con drove the additional mile home where Becka had his dinner ready. Seventy-two year old Con took a formal nap while Connor and Allie donned dry clothes then rested briefly.

Connor and Allie left the barn first, Con nearly an hour later. Con took the shorter ride but covered the rougher country around Sheephook Draw and the Cut Across.

Today, Allie needed all her layers. The temperature remained just above freezing. The wind tore at her neck scarf; her nose and eyes ran steadily. The rain slid off the arms of her slicker onto her leather gloves. Droplets plopped off the strings of her chinks onto her overshoes. As long as Allie was reasonably careful, the freezing rain ran off the brim of her once black hat, slid down her slicker, dribbled down Spike’s flanks and splatted onto the soggy ground. If she tipped her head back without rounding her shoulders slightly, the water and snow slid down the back of her neck.

Connor and Allie spotted one of the calving cows right away. She had her calf in a brush patch and the calf was up and sucking. With the protection the barren but tangled branches offered, the calf should be fine.

Further on, Allie rode down one draw while Connor went over the ridge and rode down the next. Allie found a cow near the fork of the two draws and knew immediately that they had to take her to the corral. One of the calf’s feet was showing, but the toes were pointing up – a backwards calf. A normal presentation of front legs then head helped clear the fluids out of the nose and lungs; a backwards presentation of hind legs first left the calf’s head in the calf bed fluids for its first breath. If the calf didn’t come out fast, it would likely drown.

The cow handled easily and they had no trouble trailing or corralling her. Connor put her into a head catch so she was confined but could stand, lie down or move from side to side. With the cow restrained, Connor put the calving chain on the calf’s exposed foot but couldn’t find the second foot. He reached in as far as he could, but couldn’t feel the other leg. He pushed the protruding foot back inside the cow, tried to move the calf around while keeping the chain on the foot, but still couldn’t feel the other leg. After several attempts with no progress, Connor decided a vet would have to pull the calf or do a Caeserian.

Allie ran to the house to see if her mom would haul the cow to town to the vet. After a phone call, Jen and Becka decided to go together, intending to run a few errands while in town. Con wasn’t back by the time Jen and Becka left, so Connor hurried to head back out to look for him, concern for Con overshadowing concern for the third cow they’d seen leave the feed ground.

Connor initially kept Allie close, but with worsening weather – increasing wind and heavier snowfall reducing visibility – they needed to cover more country before fast approaching dark. Allie and Connor separated on a long branch of Sheephook Ridge to go down adjoining draws. On parting Connor said, “Go down this draw. Watch the sides. Stay in the bottom as much as you can. The ground is saturated and the sides might not be stable, OK? And don’t go past the mouth of this draw. I’ll meet you there. We can’t get separated and waste time looking for each other. If Dad’s hurt, it might take both of us to help him.”

“OK. I’ll wait at the mouth,” Allie said, rounding her shoulders, tipping her head back, draining the water off the brim of her hat. Allie rode Spike down the draw, staying in the bottom as instructed, except to get around brush or deadfall. She found her grandpa’s horse before she found Con, or Spike and Domino found each other, Domino trailing his reins as he trotted to Spike. Domino and his saddle were streaked with mud. Allie talked quietly to the horses, gathered Domino’s reins then led him down the draw. Three hundred yards from the mouth of the draw she found Con trying to dig himself out of a mud slide.

As Allie trotted up Con said, “Goddamned I’m glad to see you, Allie Kat.”

As he leaned back to rest. Allie started yelling for her Dad, then remembered the survival kit she packed in her canvas cantle bag. “Dad’s not far, Grandpa. We’ll get you out. I’ll tie up the horses and be right back.”

“Ain’t goin’ no where,” Con mumbled.

Allie took the survival kit off her saddle, took the horses to a sheltered area behind a budding brush thicket, flipped stirrups over the saddles, tied both horses then raced back to Con, blowing on the whistle from her kit.

“Do you know if you’re hurt anywhere?” Allie asked.

Con raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m hurtin’ just about everywhere. But, yeah, broken leg at least. Right one. I could pull the left one out I think if I could put any pressure against the right, but I’m a baby. I pass out when I try and wake up with my face in the mud.”

Con was covered with mud, except where the rain and melting snow washed it off the back of his slicker. “Grandpa, I’ll be right back again. I’m going to get the saddles and blankets to prop you up out of the mud, then I’ll free your legs.”

“You got a shovel in that kit there? How about a little whiskey? I’ll never razz you about it again if ya do.”

“No, neither of those, but some stuff that will help us. Hold on though. I’ll be right back.”

By the time Connor found them by following occasional whistle blasts, Allie had Con’s head lying across a saddle and was digging mud and rocks away from his legs. “Holy shit, Dad! You hurt bad?” Con only grunted as Connor started helping Allie free Con’s legs, adhering to Allie’s warning not to move the right one.

“You gonna let that son-of-a-bitch walk on me?” Con growled as Rooster fidgeted, trying to get his butt turned into the wind.

“Where are the horses, Allie?”

Allie pointed to the thicket. “Behind that.”

“Here, you take Rooster over there; I’ll keep digging.”

The horses nickered their greetings then all settled down, tied close together, sharing body heat.

Once Con’s legs were free, they splinted his leg with small pine branches and supplies from Allie’s kit, but Con passed out in the process. While Con was unconscious, they shifted him to a saddle blanket and used it to drag him into the protection of the horses’ brush patch, Con pulling the blanket as Allie packed Con’s legs. Once they had Con in the relative protection of the brush, Connor talked Allie through the next several hours.

“One of us needs to stay with Dad and try to keep him as warm as we can. The other has to go for help. I think it would be better if I went, but I’ll leave it up to you. You’d have to get some help and bring the pickup as far as you can – and damned sure don’t get stuck. We’re gonna have to get Dad outta here, at least to the gate, maybe further. The only way I can see to do that is to make a travois and drag him out. And that’s gonna take some doing. Shit, oh dear! It’s gonna take some time to get home, get what we need and get back.”

“I think you should go, Dad. I’m OK here. I’ll start a fire and keep Grandpa warm. If I find travois poles how long do they need to be?”

“Shit if I know. Maybe twice as long as a horse I suppose.” Connor paused a moment, thinking. “You’re sure you’re OK here? I hate like hell to leave you. I’ll leave Domino and Spike. They’ll keep each other company and Spike’s probably the best to pull the travois. I don’t know how that’s gonna work either.”

“Dad, bring me some dry gloves, OK? And blankets to wrap Grandpa in. Maybe we can wrap him like a mummy to keep that leg from moving much.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. You have stuff to build a fire? Of course you do. OK. I can’t get back if I don’t go. I’ll hurry, Hon, but it’s gonna be two or three hours. Three anyway.” Connor bent down and checked his dad again. “He’s still out. Son-of-a-bitch! Christ, I hate to leave you.” Connor pulled Allie close in a hug.

“Go on, Dad. The sun’s getting low already. We’ll be fine. Oh, Grandpa was wishing he had some whiskey. Maybe bring pain pills if we have any.”

Allie didn’t waste time watching her Dad ride away. While Con was still passed out, she used her Swiss Army knife to cut his muddy pants and sopping wet long underwear off from hip to boot top, except for under their splint, and wrapped his bare legs in the insulated blanket from her kit, tucking it into his boots and under his coat, wrapped him in Rooster’s saddle blanket then in her Dad’s slicker. Once Con was well wrapped, she moved from that to collecting deadfall for a fire, digging into the duff under trees and brush to find the driest of the wet needles and leaves. With her magnesium striker, kerosene soaked sawdust and cotton balls, Allie had a small fire going in short order. But her hands felt like ice. Her gloves were sopping wet from getting Con free from the mud slide, and her boots were wet too, mud and water having soaked over the top of the short rubber slip ons she wore.

“Allie!” Con called. “I can’t move. What the hell’s going on?”

“Hey, Grandpa. You’re wrapped up in an insulated blanket, saddle blanket and Dad’s slicker. That’s all. I put them on tight to keep your body heat in and to keep your leg from moving. We splinted it as well as we could.”

“You fixin’ to cook me?”

“Just hoping to warm us up a little. Are the fires too close? You too hot?”

“Not by a damned sight! I’m cold clear through. How you doin’?”

“Cold, Grandpa. My hands and feet, especially, but all over. It’s not raining now – just snow but it’s still coming down pretty hard. I’m wet clear through. Except my back, maybe. I’m not going far, Grandpa, but I’ve got to find some poles before it gets dark so I don’t have much time.”

“What for? Where’s Connor?”

“Getting help and some stuff we need to get you out of here.”

“How you fixin’ to do that?”

“A travois. Unless Dad thinks of something else.”

“That don’t sound like fun. But I guess what don’t kill ya makes ya stronger.”

By the time Allie found and cut two poles with her wire saw she was both sweating and frigid. She dragged the poles back then gathered more wood and spread the fire to the full length of Con’s body then loosened and propped the slicker up to let the heat in.

“Allie, can you try to move that leg. I can’t take much more of this; it’s killin’ me – my back, my hips and that damned leg.”

“Can you tell me how? I don’t think the splint’s too tight, but we probably don’t have the bones set right. Just a minute. If I get it better I have to be able to keep it there.” Allie sheltered in her slicker, took off her coat and vest, leaving on a tee shirt, shirt, sweater and hooded sweatshirt, then put the slicker on again.

“You keep your damned clothes on, Allie Kat.”

Allie ignored her grandpa for the first time in her life, and eventually got her coat and vest tucked around the broken leg with the knee slightly elevated, relieving some of Con’s pain. She’d taken her sopping gloves off long ago, propped them on small branches shoved in the ground and pointed toward the fire. She knew her feet were unnaturally cold. They’d quit hurting long ago and just felt like lumps on the end of her legs. Her hands got wet and cold every time she brought more wood for the fire. She wove pine branches into their brush shelter to provide more protection from the wind, until she thought she had done all she could. The wet wood burned slowly and she had enough stockpiled she could keep the fires going all night if she had to.

“Grandpa?”

“You’re a hell of a camp builder, Allie. I’ve felt softer pillows than this old saddle, but I’m thinking I won’t freeze to death at least.”

“Grandpa – I’ve got to try to warm up. My feet are in trouble, I think, and my hands too.”

“Why are your feet so cold?”

“It’s so wet and the water and snow got my boots wet over these slip on overshoes.”

“What the hell you wear those little things for? What’s wrong with your Dad, lettin’ you out in those damned things?”

“Grandpa, I’m too cold to argue. I need your help.”

“Shit, I’d trade places with you if I could, Allie Kat. You know that.”

“I just want to take my boots and socks off and lay beside you. I’ll wrap my arms around your legs – I know…I’ll be careful. Could you put my feet under your coat?”

After a lot of wiggling and careful maneuvering on Allie’s part, they got reasonably comfortable. “Jesus Christ, Allie. These feet are colder than a well digger’s ass. Dammit, Allie.”

“They’ll warm up, Grandpa.” But as they did, they ached and itched and Allie, try as she might, couldn’t hold back occasional moans. Con guessed that she was suffering from frostbite, said nothing and gently moved her feet to warm places under his coat.

Con’s pain was continual and just bearable, but not the sharp agony of movement. It was impossible to be comfortable, lying on a saddle blanket and propped up slightly against his saddle, his feet tucked inside Allie’s saddle beside Allie’s head.

Allie had been exhausted and woke to voices. When she tried to move, Con held her feet. “You’re not going anywhere so stay down. Connor and Bill are here, the fires are roaring and you’re out of a job for now. I’m taking care of you for a while. How are your feet?”

“They, uhm, itch, but the toes work again and they aren’t so cold.”

“That’s frost bite – the itching. Let’s hope it isn’t too bad. You won’t know for a while, but you’ll have cold feet forever. I’m so damned sorry, Allie.”

“Don’t, Grandpa.” And she didn’t tell him her hands were worse than her feet.

“Your dad brought socks, gloves, damned near the whole closet, so you’re gonna be dry for a while if we ever leave your camp. He got hold of Jen and Becka and they’re waitin’ in Sage to meet us when we get there, which is gonna be a while yet.”

Connor and Bill brought every supply and tool they might need and could pack horseback. They hoped to make the travois sturdy enough they wouldn’t need to stop for repairs, so getting it ready was taking some time, especially since they were working by firelight. They’d gotten to Allie’s camp near 10 pm, later than Connor hoped when he left Allie, well beyond the three hours he forecast.

Connor was impressed then horrified when they’d ridden up to the camp; impressed with the line of fire and the shelter Allie made, and horrified at the sight of a single snow covered body between the fires.

Once Con reassured him that Allie was safe if slightly damaged, Connor and Bill unloaded and got to work. Con sipped on a pint of whiskey, hoping to dull the pain he expected to get worse. He had plenty of time to think about it and hadn’t come up with a better idea than a travois, but the thought of dragging over uneven ground…

“Grandpa! I’ve gotta get up. Really. I had an idea.”

“What the hell kind of idea?”

“For getting you home. Better than a travois if we can do it. Dad!”

“All right. Hold on. You gotta get socks and shit on. And stay dry this time. You hear me? I damned well mean it, too.”

Allie ate two candy bars as she explained her idea and in the end the method they used. It was potentially more dangerous and depended on steady horse behavior, so they ran the idea past Con. If it worked he’d be suspended instead of dragging so he was all in favor of trying it.

They only had to modify the travois so the back end was suspended between two horses, each horse carrying a pole. In front, as with the travois, one horse carried both poles, one on each side. Since the poles were tied into the stirrups, it was critical that the horses work together. Spike would be the lead horse and Allie’s shorter stirrups would keep Con’s head slightly elevated.

Just before moving Con to the travois, with the whiskey having a numbing effect, Con assured Allie that if her horse shit on his head, he’d never forgive her, but he took her hand and held it to his chest for a long moment.

With Con moved to the litter and securely tied on, Allie backed Spike into place so Con and Bill could set the front of the travois poles into the stirrups. Spike took the weight in stride, standing quietly as they tied the poles in place. The most difficult aspect was lifting and holding Con while they suspended him between the back horses. Allie rode Domino and brought Taffy, the horse Bill had ridden, putting one horse on each side of the litter. Bill and Connor lifted the back end of the travois while Allie got her rope set around the pole run through her right stirrup, then Bill did the same with Taffy, but on his left side. The ropes suspended the litter slightly but also kept the poles from slipping out of the stirrups. Each rider had a small roll of extra supplies they might yet need tied on their saddles, but they left everything else and would return for it later. They left the fires to burn out; there was no danger of them spreading in the cold, wet conditions.

The snow finally stopped but the wind hit them when they left the protection the draw offered. Their first few hundred yards of progress was steady by jerks as they all made adjustments, then they hit a long walk with Con riding Rooster and leading Spike. The horses were eager to get home so they made fast progress but Connor had to lead them in a round-about path to avoid trees, slopes, and washouts.

“Allie, how’d you come to carry that survival kit of yours?” Bill asked after they’d settled into the journey. “And what all’s in it?”

“I took a 4-H project to learn mountaineering skills and got interested in basic survival. I made a kit of supplies that I can carry all the time horseback, since that’s how I’m usually outdoors and likely to get in trouble.”

“So did you find things you needed and didn’t have or some you’d take out?”

“Some I didn’t use today, but none I’d take out. And some I’ll add, for sure. I needed another, maybe two more, insulating blankets. They’re packaged into about a 4”x5” by 1/2” thick square so don’t take up much room. That’s what Grandpa’s legs are wrapped in. It was great but I needed one after I got cold. And I’ll put something in to keep feet and legs dry. Even a bread sack and rubber band would help. Extra gloves, too, and maybe rubber gloves. Probably after I have some time I’ll think of other things. Food, too. Grandpa and I both needed food to help keep us warm. I didn’t have enough.” Allie paused then continued, “I lied to Grandpa, told him we each had a candy bar. But that’s an OK lie. He needed it more than I did.”

“Are you warm now, Allie?”

“No, not warm. I’m not sure my feet and hands will ever be warm again, but they’re not aching so much. My hands, partly it was cold. Well, a lot. But they just got pretty beat up. I tried my gloves a couple times but they were slick with mud inside and out. I just couldn’t use them.”

“We’ve got a long, slow ride ahead of us, Allie. I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve studied this survival stuff. You’re at a big disadvantage now with what you’ve been through already tonite. And I know your boots are still wet. Will you tell me when you’ve had enough?. If Con doesn’t suffocate the way you’ve got him bundled up and with this travois suspended he’s having a pretty good ride. We’ll get him to a doctor and he’ll be OK. But your Dad and your Grandpa will skin me alive – or worse – if I’m riding along beside you and I don’t know your feet are freezing again.”

“Well, what can we do? I’m cold. I am. I could get off and walk a while but my feet would just get wetter. My hands are better with dry gloves, but they’re cold, too. They itch and hurt and don’t feel quite right – like they’re swollen. I’m afraid I could drop a rein. But we have no other way to get Grandpa home so I’ll be cold a while. I’ll live.”

“Well, I’ve got an idea.” Bill called to Connor to stop at a good place. Getting off on the right side of his horse Bill commented, “These horses are getting lessons in damned near everything tonite.” Allie held Taffy’s reins while Bill untied an extra slicker from his saddle, split it lengthwise and tied a half around each of Allie’s legs, securing the slicker to the stirrup leathers and over her foot. Then he tied a knot in Domino’s reins to make them easier for her to hold.

“That’s better already, with no wind hitting my feet. Thanks, Bill.” Bill just squeezed Allie’s leg as he walked up to talk to Connor on his way back to his horse. He assured Connor that the horses were behaving but that for Allie’s sake they needed to go along as fast as they could. After that, they alternated walking and jogging, the litter rocking easily.

Connor and Bill hadn’t brought a pickup because of the muddy conditions and difficulty they expected in transferring Con in the dark and mud. It couldn’t have gotten more than half a mile from the house anyway, with a chance of getting stuck going back. They rode into the yard to find an ambulance waiting. With the additional help of the EMTs and an elevating gurney, Con was shifted to the discomfort of a solid metal bed.

Eight and a half hours after Connor and Allie left to look for Con, Bill untied and unbundled Allie’s legs and helped her down off Domino. The taillights of the ambulance and Martin pickup were winking down the road when Allie gasped with pain as her feet hit the ground. Bill had her sit down while he tied the horses then Bill scooped her up and packed her to the house. He undid buttons, zippers and ties through her multiple outer layers. Seeing her swollen, bruised, scraped and cut hands nearly did him in. His heart went out to this courageous child.

“Oh my God, Allie! We should have had you in that ambulance, too. Your hands are a mess.”

“They’ll heal. That’s just superficial.”

”Oh, I think the damage is a little deeper than that, but we’ll see. We’re going to treat this as if it’s severe frostbite so we don’t do any accidental damage.” Bill ran a bath of lukewarm water and insisted Allie get in it fully clothed, and that she stay there adding only a little warm water until he got back, explaining that she needed to warm up slowly. He rushed through unsaddling and feeding the horses to get back to Allie.

In theory, Allie knew what to do for frostbite and what was happening at the cellular level. But the reality of it was a shock. In spite of her best efforts, she sat in the bathtub with tears running down her cheeks. Bill warmed the water a little at a time and tried to keep her mind off the pain with stories of his escapades with his older sister Shelly.

Bill gave Allie aspirin for the pain and sips of hot chocolate. Allie’s hands and feet turned red and blotchy, then her hands darkened to mottled purple. After 45 minutes, the color started fading, then the pain and itching faded in turn. The swelling remained with every finger resembling a sausage. Allie couldn’t bend them, they were hypersensitive and hurt at the lightest touch.

Bill dried Allie with her clothes on, careful not to rub her hands or feet but tousling her head to help relieve any embarrassment she might feel. Allie put a long bathrobe on, Bill cut through all layers of shirts and she shrugged out of them. He cut from ankle to waist on both sides of her pants and long underwear, then he left her to get them off, insisting she not try to walk but to call him when she was ready to leave the bathroom.

Once Bill had Allie situated on the couch, he cooked them omelets and fed Allie, her fingers still swollen and stiff.

“Bill, Grandpa’s going to be OK, isn’t he?”

“Yes., thanks to you. You took a lot better care of him than yourself. I can’t believe all you went through, all you did.”

“Oh, anybody would have…”

Bill interrupted. “No, Allie. I know a hell of a lot of people that wouldn’t have done all you did, wouldn’t have known what to do or suffered to do what you did.” Bill knelt beside her. “Can I get you anything else? Do anything for you?”

Allie reached a hand to his shoulder. “I can’t even feel you. They’ll get better, won’t they?”

“Yes, they will. Your hands and feet will always get colder a little quicker than if this hadn’t happened – I’m sure there’s some minor permanent damage. For a while, and I don’t know how long, they may swell like this when they get cold, less so as time goes on. You may have some scabs form, but the damage isn’t real deep. There are no blisters so that’s the good news. That’s what Dr. Bill says, so you know it’s true,” Bill joked.

“They feel cold right away if they aren’t under the blanket.”

So Bill found a pair of silk gloves Connor wore under mittens. They were big enough they went on easily.

“It’s almost two in the morning. I’ll pack you to bed.”

“Could I brush my hair first? It feels like a tangled mop.” But Allie couldn’t hold the brush so Bill did it for her, easing out the snarls.

“You’re good at this too.”

“I’ll tell Shelly. You learn to do lots of things you can’t say no to when you have a bossy older sister. I do a mean braid and was learning to do a French braid when Shelly decided to cut her hair.”

Allie fell asleep while Bill was brushing her hair, so he eased her down on a pillow, covered her with another blanket, got a blanket for himself and spent the night trying to convince himself that his new feelings for his best friend’s 15 year old daughter were platonic.