No Small Victory (5 page)

Bonnie stared at the man for a moment, but then, bending over, she started to cough loudly. The man turned and disappeared back the way he had come. Archie put his index finger and thumb together in his mouth and whistled sharply through his teeth. Then he did it a second time for full measure. When he'd caught his breath, he said, “That man's ignorant, he is. Mum says there's no need to worry anymore. The place is out of quarantine. C'mon.” He grabbed Bonnie's hand. “We gotta warn the men. Maybe they didn't hear my signal.” Together they ran the short distance through the thick woods to the river.

The men had heard Archie's whistling but only her Dad snuck out from behind a tree and then ran toward her with a bulging sack over each shoulder. “You know the way, Bonnie,” he panted. “Head for home! I can't wait for you.” He galloped on past, his long legs taking their full stride. The thick woods closed in around him.

A dark shadow seemed to pass over the woods, and Bonnie shivered.

Then, forgetting all about Archie, she plucked up her courage and ran headlong in the direction her father had run. As before, her clattering rubber boots held her back. She glanced down at them—and ran smack into a short spruce shrub.

Bonnie collapsed on the ground, bent her head over her lap, and gritted her teeth together. She'd never find her way out of these woods! But of course she would—she must! So she got up and started on again. Then she thought of Archie. Wherever had he gone?

“Bonnie! Bonnie!”

It was Archie! He was nearby. “Over here,” she yelled back.

In a few minutes, Archie appeared next to the spruce shrub. “Hey! What are you doing?” he asked.

“I'm just…resting.”

“Jeepers! You're closer to the river now. You need to go the opposite way to get to the main road.”

“I guess I'm kind of turned around. Where's your farm from here?”

“Depends. The shorter way would be through these trees to the road and through the Hubbs' farm. The longer way 'round would take me by the road to the end of your farm.”

“Come my way—please?”

“Sure!” Archie smiled. “And anyway, it's easier walking on the road than across ploughed fields.”

Bonnie jumped up, ready to walk beside him.

“You just follow me,” Archie said. “The underbrush is thick here, but I'll open up the way.” He held back the prickly branches of a cedar bush that was blocking their way.

Bonnie followed her new friend.
Maybe Archie's lost, too,
she worried
.
They were surrounded by a thick undergrowth of green cedar and spruce. Yellow elm and orange maple leaves lay on the ground, but there were still plenty of oak leaves on the trees around them, making the woods very dark. When they finally reached the end of the woods, Bonnie could hardly believe her eyes. She was looking straight across the road at the edge of her family's farm. The rail fence was snaking along beside their four black-and-white cows that were still grazing near the maple trees. It looked as if nothing had happened.

“You'd better hurry home,” said Archie. “Most likely your mother will want you to help her clean the suckers. Did you know that's all there is this time of year—suckers! They're awfully bony fish. So my mother and sisters will be busy all day putting them up.”

At Bonnie's perplexed look, Archie explained, “Mum chops up the meat with the butcher knife and chugs it into glass jars. Then she pours in some sauce made of vinegar and salt and spices, and she screws the lids on tight.”

Bonnie understood. “We call those jars ‘sealers.' Mum does most of her preserves in sealers—but never fish. Don't suckers have to be cooked?”

“They cook inside the jars. Mum seals the full jars real tight and puts them into her copper washing kettle on top of the stove. Then she pours water in until the jars are covered. Then she boils the water.”

Bonnie was dubious. “I don't think my mother would do all that for suckers,” she said. “She doesn't even like the salmon and bass that Dad caught in Bay of Quinte back home. So why would she keep these old suckers? She'll cook up a few in our iron spider frying pan, but after we've all choked on the bones, she'll toss the rest away.”

“Oh, the bones won't hurt you. After they're boiled in that vinegar, they go all soft. You won't know which is bones and which is sucker!”

“Eeuggh!”

“No, they're good!” Archie insisted. “Mum opens the jars up one at a time, adds flour, and then rolls the fish into little patties and fries them up. They taste almost like salmon balls!”

“Maybe that's not quite so bad.”

“Just wait till you try it! Now I've got to head home. See you!”

“See you,” said Bonnie, as she squeezed through the fence and started running up the hill. She wanted to get as far as she could while Archie was still in sight. As soon as she reached the top of the hill, she hoped she'd be able to see the barn and the house on the other side.

“What good are these awful fish?” Mum was shouting.

Bonnie had just come running into their big all-purpose dining room. But she stopped short when she heard the angry voices coming from the backyard. She opened the back door and peeked out. Her parents were glaring at each other.

“It'll be food in our stomachs this winter. We don't have any meat.”

“But I've never preserved fish! I don't even know if it's safe. We'll all die of poison.”

“Oh, yes, it's safe,” said Bonnie. Both parents looked at her, perplexed.

“What do you know about cooking?” Dad chuckled. It was no secret that Bonnie hated to cook and that her mother complained about anything Bonnie tried to make.

“I know all about preserving those suckers! Archie told me. His mother has a special recipe. They clean the fish and put them in sealers on the stove and boil them for hours—and the bones all soften and then they put them in the cold cellar all winter and they keep just fine.” Dad was laughing now, but Mum was listening.

“Thomas, carry those sacks down to the cellar. Then we are going to visit our neighbours. I need that recipe right away.”

Duke and Rose lumbered up the hilly lane, pulling the wagon toward the road that led to the Johnsons' farm. Mum sat beside Dad on the high seat and Bonnie was perched behind him on a bag of grain. It was a bit windy in the open air, but Bonnie didn't mind. She was overjoyed to be visiting her new friends.

Dad let the horses fly up the hills, through the woods, and onto the road at the western edge of the farm. He turned north—not south toward Burnham's Dam. Then at the top of a steep, short hill, they looked down the sloping lane to a valley where a red brick house and a grey barn were sheltered by a line of spruce and basswood trees.

“Well, I do believe we've arrived,” said Dad dreamily, gazing at a stand of poplars and tamaracks at the north end of the Johnsons' farm. “If it weren't for those hills, we would have been here even sooner. Too bad we couldn't have come in the car, but we've got to save that little bit of gasoline for an emergency.”

“Well, Push-a-Button,” Mum said. “The car certainly is a convenience we all miss—but how about we get these horses moving in the meantime? I must get that fish recipe!”

“Oh, yes, the suckers,” said Dad. He loosened the horses' reins and the wagon started moving again. In minutes, they were in front of the Johnsons' place.

A short woman with light brown hair was standing on the big, rambling verandah, wiping her hands on a stiffly starched apron.

“Come right in. Unhitch the horses and stay for dinner!” said Mrs. Johnson with a big, friendly smile. Angela and her mother moved to either side of the front door, motioning the Browns to come in.

“We really can't just drop in on you unannounced!” said Mum. “I had no idea it was so near dinnertime.” All farmers ate their big meal of the day at noon.

“I won't hear of you not staying, Amy. In you come! And Thomas—you and my husband will want to trade fish tales!”

The Browns walked into a well-scrubbed kitchen with braided rugs. To Bonnie, it looked like heaven with its cosy inside and all the friendly faces.

Mrs. Johnson tousled Bonnie's hair. “Don't you just look like Shirley Temple with those golden curls,” she said.

“That's what everyone used to say back home!” Bonnie smiled. “And I've seen her, too, at the movies in
Poor Little Rich
Girl
and
Heidi
!”

“When did you see those, Bonnie?” Mum asked. “We never go to movies.”

Bonnie hesitated. “I went with Aunt Dollie.”

“I thought she took you to the library,” said Dad.

“We went there, too.”

Bonnie smiled with relief as all the grownups burst out laughing. Then, as they were ushered to the table, she breathed in the smell of freshly baked bread and luscious apple pie. Beside the big, steaming bowls of potatoes and carrots, there were fresh chicken and dumplings and all kinds of pickles—sliced cucumbers made bread-and-butter style, beet pickles, and tiny whole cucumber pickles. Bonnie knew she shouldn't stare, but she couldn't help it.

Archie and Angela had joined them at the table, and their older sister Lizzie was there too. Lizzie was thirteen, and her blonde hair was drawn back in a grown-up way. At the opposite end of the room, their baby sister Teenie was throwing things on the floor—her spoon, bits of potato, and even some chicken. Bonnie could not imagine what her own mother would say if a baby did that to her spotless kitchen floor! But Mrs. Johnson kept patiently putting the spoon back in the baby's hand.

“So, Bonnie, are you coming to our school on Monday?” Archie blurted out, his mouth full of dumplings.

“Yes, and I can't wait! I love school!”

“You love school?” Archie stopped chewing and looked at Bonnie as if a spruce twig had just grown out of the top of her head.

“Close your mouth, Archie Johnson. No one wants to see your half-chewed dinner!” Lizzie scolded.

Bonnie swallowed quickly so she could answer Archie. “Yes, I do,” she said. “And my teacher back home said I could do two grades together this year.”

“Jeepers! You'll be stuck doing homework all the time. Too bad! I'm going to be on Tom and Slinky's baseball team.”

“Who are Tom and Slinky?”

“Oh, they're the best baseball players in the school.”

Bonnie wasn't really interested in baseball. Bonnie's mother had won a trophy for being top athlete in her school on Fair Day, but Bonnie felt like a complete stumblebum when it came to hitting things with bats and rackets. Baseball, tennis, badminton—whenever she saw something coming at her through the air, she ducked or whacked at it without looking.

“I love baseball season,” said Archie, loading a spoonful of bread-and-butter pickles onto his plate. “I usually get picked about second or third.”

“Really?” said Bonnie, trying to sound polite. “That must be nice.”

“Yeah…I sure feel sorry for those bunglers who always get picked last.”

Like me
, Bonnie thought, twirling her fork through the creamed potatoes on her plate. She was beginning to get a bad feeling about starting school on Monday.

Mrs. Johnson stood up, her blue eyes twinkling. “Eat up, everyone—apple and pumpkin pie for dessert.”

“Dessert!” Dad exclaimed, looking as if he had arrived in heaven. “We came for one recipe and you've given us a banquet.”

“I love feeding people!” said Mrs. Johnson with a genuine smile.

“It's so nice to taste another woman's cooking. I get so tired of my own,” said Mum. “Your dumplings are the lightest and tastiest I've ever had. I'll be so glad when I get some chickens.”

“We could help you,” said Mrs. Johnson, bringing two pumpkin pies and one apple pie over to the table.

“Thank you, but we'll be fine. My father is bringing us his incubator and enough eggs. I'll hatch them this winter and we'll have a henhouse full next year at this time!” Mum helped herself to a slice of pie. “But when we've finished dinner, I would like that recipe for preserving fish. And I really must get right back before they spoil.”