# Car 54

####
© 2005 / revised 2014
K Pelle

### Chapter 51:
Beware - Possible Slippery Sections

Now you shouldn't assume that we hadn't spent much time racing Car 54 during the summer of 1969, because we did race and we did very well. Actually we only missed six races and three of those races were rained out. Two other races happened while I was busy with fall haying, and since the hay crop happened to be the ranch's major source of income at that time, I think I can be excused for those absences. The only other race I missed wasn't even my fault, I made it to the race track, but the car didn't. That day Tom, George and I watched the races from the pits and it was the one and only time we pulled out those signs we'd made long before - the ones that said "Car 54, where are you?"

Jerry Dolens had been towing the trailer with the car to Pine Lake, but the trailer was T-boned at an intersection by a pickup truck whose driver ignored a stop sign. The pickup truck which hit the trailer was virtually demolished, but the seventeen year old girl who was driving the pickup only suffered a broken leg and a minor concussion. Jerry, the tow truck, the trailer and Car 54 were hardly damaged at all. Jerry got a couple of bruises, the trailer had a bent side section and car 54 had a couple of dents. The RCMP, an ambulance and another tow truck had to be called to separate the vehicles because the pickup had hit the trailer so hard it had pushed everything into the ditch on the far side of the highway. Jerry and Car 54 finally did make it to the track that day, just as the last race was being run.

There were other times that summer when it was questionable whether we could have Car 54 repaired soon enough to be at the races or not, but we managed. You see after Gary Wagner found that I was willing to mix it up with him during the races, he developed a habit of trying to make life 'interesting' for me, usually just when I was passing him. Most of the time I was able to steer clear of his ambushes, but he and I 'accidentally' tangled several times and we got involved in really heavy collisions twice that summer. In each case Car 54 got badly damaged.

One time we had exited three-four corner, just entering the front straight and I was passing his car on the outside when he decided to slow me down. Gary managed to squeeze my ride between his car and the concrete wall that ran in front of the stands, but I saw it coming. When I bounced of the wall, I countered his move by braking hard, then steered away from the wall, expecting to swing behind him. Unfortunately I'd counted on being slowed more than I was and I was already accelerating when we hit, so my left front fender contacted his car just behind his right rear tire. That contact spun his car and he suddenly found himself crosswise of the track and in front of Car 54 with his front end pointing toward the inner wall and all the spectators. Unfortunately, the contact between our cars jarred my foot off the brake peddle and I accidentaly hit the accelerator instead. By the time I corrected my mistake and got stopped, his car was on its lid with all four wheels in the air, its nose now facing the stands and my front bumper sitting just outside his window. He didn't believe me when I explained how it happened and insisted it wasn't intentional.

During the following week, we managed to beat out the panels on all four doors of Car 54 and mounted replacement front fenders, grill and hood. Mechanically, we had to roughly straighten the frame, redo the steering, then replace the engine and the radiator. The cast iron block of the engine had shattered when the water pump shaft was driven back into number one cylinder. Then we had to haul the car into town to have it repainted, but we were back on the track with a good-looking car the next weekend. Unfortunately, Gary's car didn't make it out to the races that week, but he was there as a spectator and he gave me a rough time after the races, accusing me of being a 'dirtier' driver than he was.

Tom was with me though, and he just shook his head. "Nope, Gary, you've got that wrong, Chris believes in the golden rule. You know the 'Do onto others' bit? But the thing is, Chris is generous to a fault, so he always makes sure he does a little extra for good measure. I saw what happened out there and I know how Chris' mind works. He was trying to brake hard, get behind you and then return the favour and bump you into the wall, but you hit the brakes too hard, so he hit your rear fender instead of passing behind you."

Gary looked at Tom and frowned, then shook his head. "And here I thought it was George that was full of bullshit."

However on Labour Day weekend, which happened to be the last race we planned to run Car 54 that year, Gary was back, but over the week his attitude had deteriorated and he was fuming. Clarence tried to calm him down and I even tried to talk to him, but he ignored both of us, other than to tell us that he wasn't angry with either of us. So once the race got started and Gary managed to pass me, I thought I'd just let him go and follow in his dust. We were about ten laps into the main when things went hairy. I was probably about forty or fifty feet behind Gary and we were rounding three-four corner, just coming up on the straightaway before the stands once more. We were passing on the outside of a slower car at that point and I thought I saw Gary's car give a tiny little sideways twitch, then he was on the straightaway and accelerating hard. He was leaving me behind, so I hit the gas to try to stay with him, but about half a second later all hell broke loose.

Suddenly the rear end of Gary's car was lifting up in the air and his car did its best to stop dead in its tracks. I snapped my foot off the gas and hit the brakes as hard as I could, but that didn't do one bit of good. Nose down and in an uncontrollable four wheel slide, Car 54 was headed right underneath Gary's car, but as it did, I could see what had happened. Somehow his drive shaft had broken free at the forward end, dropped down and dug into the dirt track. The rear end of his car had tried to pole-vault, using that solid section of steel tubing as the pole. I had no time to think or do anything – all I could do was hang on. I was almost underneath that dang car when the guy following the one that we'd been passing hit my right rear fender and spun me. I saw Gary's left rear wheel still spinning above my hood as the nose of Car 54 went under his rear wheels, then hit that drive shaft, kicking it loose. At the same time the clout on the outside rear of the car spun me away toward the inside edge of the track. Suddenly my car was spinning sideways, but moving down the track at the same time. In fact, I felt the left wheels dig in, and the right wheels lift, almost as if the car was going to roll onto the driver's side, but somehow it stayed right side up and spun further. Then I was skidding backwards, but facing Clarence, who had tried to miss the accident on the inside of the track. Somehow I had the presence of mind to keep the clutch pressed down and my foot off the brakes. I wasn't fast enough though, because Clarence's car still struck mine, nose to nose. Our cars collided, head on, and I got shunted down the track like a billiard ball, going backward at multi-miles an hour. As soon as I saw that Clarence was slowing to a stop, I had enough presence of mind to slam on the brakes, skidding to a halt.

I was facing back up the track toward three-four corner, staring at the biggest mess I've ever seen on a racetrack. The whole track was blocked completely from one side to the other. The car that hit my rear end had also struck the rear end of Gary's car. That blow had kicked Gary's car up and around until it ended up sitting, tail end high, with one rear wheel on the roof of Clarence's car and the other wheel on his trunk lid. Meanwhile Gary's front end was tight against the car that he'd been passing, jamming it tight against the concrete wall. As well, two more cars hadn't been able to stop in time, so they piled into the resultant wreck. One of them was sitting against the outside wall and against the car that had hit me, then Gary. Meanwhile the other car had hit Clarence from the rear and had spun crosswise, completely blocking the inner edge of the track.

I'd barely gotten stopped, when I saw smoke coming from the front end of Gary's car and realized it might be on fire. It felt as if it took forever to grab my fire extinguisher, get out my window, then run to the wreck, yet somehow I was the first one there. The hood was sprung, so I grabbed the edge, lifted it up and held it with one hand as I triggered the fire extinguisher with the other, pointing it at the source of the smoke.

I suppose I emptied the fire extinguisher, but I don't remember for sure. Things were simply too hectic right then to recall details. The next thing I do remember is seeing that there were people all over the wreckage and feeling myself being led away. It was Tom who led me back to Car 54 and I heard the engine still running. I hadn't even paused long enough to shut it off before I baled out to help. At least I'd been thinking clearly enough to take it out of gear.

"After all that, the damn thing still runs," Tom sounded astonished. "In fact, it even looks like it could still race."

"Not with me driving, at least not today!" I said as unemotionally as I could, then reached in through the window to shut off the engine.

I suppose that wreck was the reason I lost my drive and ambition to try as hard to win stock car races. Somehow the vision of Gary's bumper coming right at me, then lifting above eye level stayed with me for years. Between that and the imprint of his tire tread on the hood of my car, along with a black tire scuff on the roof edge just above the steering wheel, made me a lot more cautious as a driver. On top of that, Car 54 had been heavily damaged and since it was the last race we planned to be in that year we didn't hurry to get around to repairing it either.

It was a shame in a way, because Tom had only gotten to use his new pickup truck at a couple of races, but then I don't suppose he really minded all that much. You see Frank had picked up a four year old truck at auction and had turned his mechanics and body men loose, so when Tom got it, it looked brand new. In the back was a nice new full-width tool box, which was all Frank would let me pay for, saying that the truck was his gift to Tom. I didn't bother to argue with him because I knew I'd lose, instead I contacted the local 'Snap On' tool guy and we filled the tool box with 'basic essential' tools for any farm mechanic. The look on Tom's face when he saw the truck and then again when he opened the tool box was priceless.

Of course the look on George's face, when I handed him the papers and pedigrees for the Appaloosa mare and colt, then led him to the corral to see his gift was just as worthy of mention. I think in George's case his look was pure mortification though, with a bit of terror blended in for good measure. Then Beth took the papers from his hand, glanced at them, and virtually shrieked as she began to bounce up and down like a ten year old kid on a trampoline. I think George thought she had gone a bit 'round the bend,' but since he was holding the lead to the mare's halter and she wasn't reacting to Beth's exhibit, he looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

"Calm, isn't it," he said quietly.

"Not it, George, it's she and she happens to be the calmest, easiest riding mare I've ever seen, so if you can sit in a rocking chair, you can ride that horse," I grinned. "The colt is the reason Beth is so happy though. Both his sire and dam have very good pedigrees, show winner types. I bought the mare for you, because she was a great horse and a real easy ride, but a bit too old for buyers to show much interest. I knew she had been bred to a great stud though and although she happened to drop her foal before I picked her up, that foal is going to be a crackerjack. All you have to do is make sure that foal grows up healthy and he'll be a top ranking stud horse in about three years, one of the best around."

"Hmm, I see," he murmured and I could see him calculating, then he looked at me and grinned. "Beth is gonna want to raise the colt, then use him as a stud for her mares, right?"

"Yep, from the way she reacted to his pedigree I'd bet on it."

"Thanks, I guess I need to learn how to raise a horse and read a pedigree," he chuckled and winked at me. "I wouldn't want to have Beth breed him to a dud. I mean it's my reputation as an owner of a top quality stud that's at stake here."

I just laughed, winked and nodded.

Actually those two gifts were just two more incidents of a great year for me and being something of a pessimist, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but life just carried on getting better and better. In fact the whole year had gone so smoothly that I mentioned my pessimistic fears to Mom and had her laugh at me, then she got serious and said something that helped me a lot in the long run.

"Chris, life isn't vindictive, so you'll have some good years, some that are mediocre and some that are horrible, but in the long run all you can do is enjoy the good times when they happen and handle the rotten times to the best of your ability," she smiled at me. "I expect that the way you plan things out ahead of time and the way you treat others will make your life a lot easier than most. In all honesty, you treat people fairly and you think ahead, but that's all you can do. Eventually you're going to have some form of tragedy fall in your life, but don't go looking for it, and remember that you've always got friends and family to lean on when it does."

Somehow her words really sank in and in a way they made life a lot easier because what she'd said made a lot of sense. Whenever shit happened I'd recall the words 'Life isn't vindictive' and I'd carry on and do what I could to solve the immediate problem as well as improve my life and the lives of others. However I suppose I'll always be something of a pessimist, so I'm always thinking 'what if something happens' and planning what to do in case a problem crops up. That fall I really learned to adopt the Boy Scout motto of 'Be Prepared' and adopted it as my own even though I'd never been a Boy Scout. Meanwhile life carried on.

By the fall of 1969 Matt and John had both decided they wanted to be farm or ranch workers and perhaps own a farm of their own one day, so John enrolled in the full course at Olds. Matt planned to take the same two accelerated courses that I'd taken the year before, Basic Animal Husbandry and Farm Equipment Maintenance, both of which started after Christmas break. At the same time I was going back to Olds in the fall and taking two more intensive courses, Management of Range Land and Modern Ranching Methods, both of which ended by the winter break. By arranging our schedules so they didn't conflict, the essential work on the ranch could continue, yet we were all able to improve our educations. On top of that Sandy and I both planned to take a business management course by correspondence after the New Year and if I could, I wanted to sneak in an accounting course as well.

That fall, John and I arranged to room together while we were at Olds and came home as often as we could on the weekends. Early on in the fall I bought the wire, switches, plugins and light fixtures for the new machine shed and workshop as well as the materials to finish the inside walls on the workshop. I laid out my idea of how I wanted the switches, plugins and lights with Bob and George Grant one Sunday and by the next weekend the wiring was finished, all but for final details like switch and plug-in covers. The next weekend I started by insulating the walls and ceiling, but I left Matt with the job of sheathing the walls and ceiling with wallboard, then painting the whole interior with washable white latex paint. The next weekend I installed an oil fired heater to keep the shop warm when I wanted to work there during our long winter months which was when I'd have a lot of time on my hands.

Of course life being what it was, although John and I tried to be home each weekend, there were times when it was impossible. The two courses I was taking were heavy on theory, but light on practical application, so I was pounding the books pretty hard, so there were a few weekends I stayed in Olds to study. At the same time John was working hard, but he'd also met a young woman who was taking some of the same courses and they were dancing around each other in some semblance of involvement. Both of them were doing a lot of studying, but somehow their romance slopped over into the weekends and a few times I drove home alone. There were two other times when the weather made it impossible for me to get home, but even when I couldn't make it back to the ranch the phones still worked, so I was able to get frequent updates.

Naturally I was particularly interested in Sandy's phone calls about the snowfalls and blizzards and what effect she'd noticed on the new road, only there weren't any. Oh, there was snow, just not much, and in the months I was studying at Olds, there were only a few minor snowstorms and no real blizzards. Her constant comment was 'The road is great and the wind seems to be sweeping most of it clean.' Of course I kept waiting for the time she'd call about a big blizzard, but that call didn't come before I was finished my two courses and had moved back home.

Christmas that year was a lot different than the year before. We had a Christmas Eve party at the ranch, but Christmas day was mostly split between Uncle Tom and Aunt Alice's in the morning and Mom and Dad's in the afternoon. Sandy, Lucille and I made sure that Grampa Bender came out to Mom and Dad's for an hour or so, but he was feeling a bit rough that day so we took him back to the care home quite soon. The Bender clan wasn't the only family we knew who were celebrating Christmas though and during the day people all over the area were visiting or phoning each other to pass on their best wishes. For instance as well as visiting my family, Sandy, Lucille and I called on the Grants, the Dolens, the Coulters and the Engels, just to spend a few minutes with each family. To be honest there were so many people involved in our extended group that I doubt if anyone knew where everyone else happened to be at any time. Somehow though, in the midst of all our visits we managed to get home to do the afternoon chores and we did them on time too. In the evening all the younger members of the extended family ended up at Carissa and Jackie's place for a while. The place was a madhouse and by ten o'clock that evening Sandy and I were all visited out, besides it was snowing and the wind had started to blow, so we headed for the ranch to relax.

"Next year I'm going to phone everyone to wish them Merry Christmas, but I'm going to stay home," I grumbled as we went inside the house.

"Oh sure, that'll be the day!" Sandy laughed. "Would you like a coffee or tea? I don't feel sleepy, just worn out, so I'm going to make myself some coffee."

I nodded and agreed that a coffee would taste good, then decided I'd start a fire in the fireplace. Once it was going good and the coffee was perked we snuggled together in front of the fire, drinking coffee and talking about the day. Then later we sat there for even longer, popping corn over the dying coals, using an old fashioned corn popper I'd found at an auction. So it was quite late when I happened to glance out the window and noticed two sets of lights coming down the hill, then the dogs barked to let us know we had visitors coming. In a few seconds we found that it was Lucille followed by George and Beth, Jasmine, Jess, Jean and Tom. All of them were a bit irate.

"Okay, who spiked the punch this year?" I asked.

"Nobody," Beth snapped. "Don't you keep an eye on the weather? It's a bloody blizzard up on top."

"What are you talking about? There isn't that much wind and it isn't snowing that much either," I got up and turned on the yard light.

"The wind's blowing from the northeast, Chris. For some reason it's not blowing down here at all and your road isn't drifting in either, but the municipal road in front of Carissa's is buried under four foot drifts. Corrinna and Wil are staying with Carissa and Jackie, but Tom and George felt we'd be better off down here if we got stuck for a few days," Lucille explained. "Oh, by the way, the phones are out, but George got through to his dad on Matt's CB, so they know what's going on."

"I should call Dad on the CB and let him know we made it here and we're all just fine," George added.

"Go ahead, George. The CB is in my office now," I nodded at him and pointed the way.

"Just wait until Dad hears that your road is almost totally clear all the way across the upper plateau while the county road is drifted in and plugged solid," Beth chortled.

"I'm surprised you didn't call me on the CB if the weather was so bad up there," I commented. "What would you have done if you'd gotten stuck in a snow drift on the way here?"

"Well, Lucille and I both have four-wheel drive, so I wasn't really worried, besides I have a secret weapon in my pickup. Mom and Dad gave me a new snowmobile for Christmas and hid it under my pop-top on the box. If we had gotten stuck, I'd have unloaded that and come to you for help," Tom grinned and winked at me.

I heard George on the CB, so I joined him to listen in. According to George's dad, all the east-west roads were drifting in, but so were a lot of the north-south roads, because the wind was coming from an odd direction. That meant most of the county's snow fences had been put up in the wrong places to stop drifting from the direction the wind was blowing. He didn't think they'd get around to plowing our county road anytime soon. In return I told him I wasn't going to try plowing the road clear until the wind eased off, not unless we had an emergency. He said he understood and would pass on the news to everyone who needed to know, then we signed off.

Just in case the wind swung more to the northwest Tom and I strung the snow ropes to the barns and the generator shed, meanwhile George plugged in the block heaters of all the cars and brought in more wood for the fireplace. By the time we got inside, Lucille, Beth and Jasmine had made everyone a snack as well as perking more coffee and heating a pot of cocoa. At the same time Sandy, Jess and Jean had made sure all the beds had clean sheets, blankets and pillows. Then we all gravitated to the living room and relaxed.

Once more there was a blizzard and we were snowed in with a house full of young people. One famous Yogi Berra quotation suits perfectly; "It's like déjà vu all over again." The main difference from the previous year was in the personalities who were stuck at the ranch and the fact that everyone was a year older and hopefully, more responsible. During the time they were there, I very carefully did not ask where anyone else slept, but I do know that Sandy and I slept alone, so I thought Lucille was on another of her guilt trips.

Boxing Day morning I found out that her reasons were really something slightly different. That was when Lucille announced that she was going back to school in Calgary for the rest of the winter in order to upgrade her nurse's training. She was leaving on Sunday, the 4th of January and would be away for six months, but she planned to visit during a one week break she'd have at Easter.

Outside the weather had changed a little overnight. The wind was blowing more or less from a northerly direction and there was slightly more snow falling, but it was nowhere near whiteout conditions. The chores that morning were more of a welcome interruption than an onerous task since it was a chance for Tom and George to look at the recent changes around the ranch as they came along with me.

The barn was warm, so milking went quickly, then feeding the milk cow, the calves and the horses I kept inside was simple. It took a few minutes to clean their stalls and pens, and give them fresh bedding, but with three of us there even that job was quickly done. Both the cattle and horses who ran loose outside were all hiding away in the lean-to shelters I'd built for them, not even bothering to eat from their feeders. So all we did there was give them some fresh bedding and check the automatic waterers to make sure the heaters were working and the water bowls weren't iced over. When we checked the pigs, they did get up out of their mounds of bedding to gobble feed, but even they were happy to nose their way back under their straw and go back to snoozing. The only animals that were really up and around were the chickens and since I'd had a larger building built for them and had heat lamps installed, they didn't even realize that there was a storm outside. We really weren't out of the house for long, but I think it took longer for the three of us to do the job than I'd have taken on my own because we did more talking than working.

I'd grown used to being inside in bad weather, but Tom and George seemed to want to be out doing something, so after we had a coffee we headed out to my workshop and implement shed. The workshop itself was still relatively bare, I hadn't bought many of the tools I wanted to have in there yet, but only a week after I'd started class in Olds, I'd attended a farm machinery auction. I'd gone a touch overboard, buying machinery I knew I was going to need, then storing it in the equipment shed and since they were there, Tom and George wanted to look it all over.

Now you have to understand one thing, Grampa Bender had been a 'make do, rent or borrow' type, when it came to machinery and equipment. So when I took over Mile High Ranch there was very little machinery there and what there was seemed to me to be antique, some of it was meant to be horse drawn. Oh there were two old tractors, a Massey-Harris, Model 44 and an old International Harvester with a front end loader. In fact the only other motorized item on the ranch had been an old '48 Ford pickup truck that had sat behind the barn since Grampa Bender had rolled it on the way down the hill. That was a shame too, because it'd had a brand new motor and clutch installed only a few weeks before it was rolled. The truck was a wreck and both of the tractors were old and worn, so I knew I needed something a little newer to look after the jobs around the ranch. Somehow I convinced my instructors that I needed a day away from class, so I took in a farm machinery auction and went with my cheque book in hand. To my surprise, the instructor I'd had in a former course, Farm Equipment Maintenance, offered to go with me as an advisor and I gladly accepted his help and advice.

We got to the auction grounds early and since I had a list of equipment I wanted, we wandered around and looked over what was for sale. Some of the items we saw were just plain junk, but other items were both on my list and looked worth bidding on. I think my former instructor questioned my judgement and thought I was jumping the gun when I saw a man I knew who owned a truck and flatbed trailer, then arranged that he'd haul anything I might buy that day. I even told him I'd get Wil to guide him to the ranch and help him unload. The instructor asked if I was that certain I'd find something worth buying or that I wouldn't be outbid. I just grinned and pointed out that the weather was horrid so I didn't expect that the auction would be very busy, besides that I'd already seen several things I wanted to buy.

For once I was optimistic about my chances and my optimism paid off that day. First I bought a five year old John Deere 1020 tractor with a three point hitch, which looked to be very well cared for, and if that had been all I bought, I'd have been happy. I paid less than a third of what it would have cost when it was new and effectively paid nothing for the front end loader attachment or the manure bucket which were mounted on it. I suppose the tractor went quite cheaply since it was late fall. Besides, it was cloudy and raining a bit, so no one was thinking about haying season, which might explain the extremely low prices I paid for several other items. I bought a sickle bar mower, a side deliver rake, a ten foot wide grading blade, a two bottom plow and a set of mounted harrows which all worked on the three point hitch and I got them for next to nothing. Later I bid a ridiculously low sum for a rusty tandem disc, an old manure spreader, an older baler and a ratty looking, sixteen-foot-long, four wheeled stock trailer, but was astounded to win each and every bid with little competition. Last of all I made an initial bid of a hundred bucks for an extremely rusty looking D4 Caterpillar tractor with badly worn crawler tracks, but complete with a dozer blade. Only a guy who was buying scrap steel bid against me on that and I finally ended up buying it for under a thousand bucks, about half of what it was worth as parts. It took my friendly truck driver two trips to deliver all that equipment to the ranch, but all of it was soon stored in the equipment shed.

When Tom looked everything over, he just shook his head in astonishment. "Almost everything here shows signs of recent wear, as if it was used just before you bought it. The only things that look like they've sat around and not been used recently are the old Cat tractor and the tandem disc. What did you pay for it all, if you don't mind my asking?"

"All together I paid less than a similar tractor to the John Deere 1020 would cost to buy new," I grinned. "The auction was on a cold wet day, so there weren't a lot of people there and I got lucky."

"Damn, did you ever," George shook his head. "You going to work on all this stuff over the winter?"

"That's the plan, but I'm hoping this weather straightens up before a week from Saturday. There's a farm auction out at Airdrie and word is that the old guy had a well equipped workshop. Since my workshop is pretty empty right now, I thought I'd try my luck again."

"Want some company? " Tom asked. "We can take my truck and all three of us can go."

"That's an idea, but I was going to talk to Wil and see if he'd like to go. I figured with my pickup and his new one ton truck, we could probably haul anything back we might happen to buy,"

"So? Invite him along too," Tom grinned. "With the sort of luck you have, we might fill both trucks."

Just for something to do we decided to shift the little John Deere into the workshop and I turned up the heater, then we started doing a regular maintenance on it. Since it was cold and since the tractor ran on diesel, it was a bit hard to start at first, but we plugged in the block heater while we went in to have lunch and after an hour the tractor started easily. I'd owned the tractor long enough to know approximately what I needed beforehand, so I had oil and filters available and of course we checked for iron filings in the old oil. The oil was clean though, well, it was black from use, but it didn't show any metal shavings or signs of wear and tear in the engine. All the hydraulic, fuel and air filters looked quite clean, but we changed them anyway. We even cleaned out the screens on the radiator. The tires showed some signs of wear, but not enough for me to worry about. The only things we found that didn't look new were the paint, the cover on the seat and some small rust spots that were scattered all over. Oh, and Tom found a tiny crack on the front-end loader arm at one of the joints, so that would need to be welded. Since I didn't have an arc welder and since the crack was tiny, we weren't about to worry about that right then. At least working on that tractor kept us out of the house and the women's hair for one day.

Now as for Sandy and all the women folk, she'd gotten them interested in her new hobby. You see earlier in the winter when she'd spent a lot of time on her own she'd discovered Gramma Tilly's spinning wheel and loom down in the basement and she'd asked Mom about it. Mom and Aunt Alice had gone to town and bought some raw wool, then had come up and shown Sandy how to card the wool, spin it and then either weave or knit the yarn she had made. When Tom, George and I came in from working on the tractor, then doing the evening chores, we found the whole gang of women busy, carding, spinning, weaving or knitting like mad.

Since we were really only snowbound for three nights and two days we never even had a chance to get cabin happy. In fact after we plowed out the road and everyone could go home, all them came back for most of each day during the length of their Christmas break. Sandy and Lucille made a trip to town for groceries, but while they were there they also picked up some more raw wool and more knitting needles. Tom and his dad dug around in the back of their shop and found an old arc welder that they'd retired, then they went over to Dad's and talked him out of an old air compressor and a bench mount drill press that he'd replaced. On top of that they dug up several other shop tools that I didn't have, then brought them all up to the ranch and helped me set them up. My workshop went from almost empty to decently equipped farm shop in just one day. As Dad and Wil said though, everything was quite badly worn and since it was on loan, I should plan to replace everything as soon as I could. At that time I mentioned the auction I'd heard about, so then and there we decided that all six of us would try to go, and we planned on taking three trucks, just in case.

Anyway for the next week the place was crawling with people. Matt, Mark, Luke and John even got involved for a day or two, and as well Carissa and Jackie decided they wanted to learn how to knit and weave, but they didn't show much patience. The whole clan and all our friends showed up on December 31st though and they stayed right through until after midnight on New Years Eve. So although we hadn't planned it, we had a semblance of a New Years Eve party. Then on New Years day, we had a decent sized dinner party with both a big ham and a huge roast beef, both home grown. Not only the meat came from the ranch though, all the vegetables that were served, down to the pickles, came from Sandy's garden, so it was as much a 'Mile High' supplied meal as we could make it.

Then, on the Saturday before she left for her course in Calgary, we had another small 'Good Luck' party for Lucille, but only members of our family were there. Grampa Bender didn't make it out for either of those parties, but Mom, Dad and Lucille did take a plate in to the care home for him in time for his evening meal, then came back to the party. Lucille grinned and told me that Grampa Bender sent me a message that; " T'ain't the first meal I et whut was growed off'n thet place an I hope it ain't the last un neither, but tell thet boy he done good, real good, an' thanks fer thinkin' o' me."

I sighed heavily when Lucille drove away on Sunday morning, I was going to miss her for the next while, but I wished her well and thought I'd finally be able to relax that day.

I was wrong – as usual. I should never, ever plan to have a completely quiet day, because all hell is sure to break loose shortly after I get comfortable.

I'd just sat down in my favourite chair with a good book when Mom phoned. She and Dad had been awakened early that morning by the barking of their dogs. When Wil and Dad checked the feed yard, they'd noticed a dead and partially eaten calf out in the lower pasture. They assumed that a pack of wolves must have found one of the calves that had become separated from the herd, so they'd gotten out the snowmobiles and went chasing the pack. She said Dad had just called and the wolves seemed as if they were heading for the gap that led to the lower end of the ranch, in other words the they were heading my direction. That was not good news, so Sunday morning or not, I rushed to dress warmly, grabbed my rifle and a walkie-talkie, then raced to get on my snowmobile and head for the gap.

Before I left the house though, I did manage to holler for Sandy to stick around to answer the phone, because wolves had killed some of Dad's cattle and we were going after them.

Now don't get me wrong about wolves, I don't hate them, but if a pack starts to attack farm animals, they decide they've found easy prey and they'll keep coming back until they wipe out the herd. If I possibly could, I wanted to kill the leader of the pack and perhaps another wolf or two, which would make them leery of coming back and might stop them from hunting any other farm animals too.

I had no idea how close the wolves would be, so all I could do was drive that snowmobile as quickly as I felt was safe. When I got to the gap leading to the lower ranch I saw many wolf tracks in the snow, but they all led downhill, so I felt certain the wolves hadn't come up from below yet. I pulled back a short distance and tried to call Dad on the walkie-talkie. I had no idea where Dad and Wil would be if I shot and missed, then the slug ricocheted, so if nothing else I wanted to warn him what I was about to do.

"Dad, are you there? I'd like to know where you and the wolves are?

"Hey Chris, the pack is getting close to the gap, so they'll be coming up towards you soon. We've been herding them along the steep side of the valley, so we're off to the west, okay?"

"Gotcha Dad. The best side up here for them to get to cover is on the west too. I'm set up between the gap and the cover though, so I'll be shooting southeast. You might want to use some of the boulders over your way for cover in case of ricochets."

"Okay, we'll dust them from this end and send them your way. Oh, and they aren't wolves, it's a damn pack of dogs. So don't shoot to wound them. Put the bastards down for good. Wil, go ahead now, do your best to kill those fucking mutts. Chris is ready to finish any that get away from us."

"Gotcha Dad," I answered. "It's dogs and I'm not going to show any mercy," I could hear shots from below, then one or two yowls of pain that quickly died out after more shots.

"Right Chris, get ready. They're climbing now."

The few times I'd done it, it took me hours to climb that damn slope, but those dogs were up it in minutes. Then I think they either smelled or saw me when they got to the crest, because they all paused. There were three of them, and I was able to shoot two before the third turned and raced up another steep slope, but I knew that led to a sheer cliff that was easily visible from below. So I grabbed the walkie-talkie again.

"Dad, there were three, I got two, but one is going up toward the steep cliff on the west. I can't see him now, but you should be able to get him in your sights."

"I see him. Will, there's one getting away, up and to your left. Way up!"

I heard one shot, then another. Then silence.

"That's it," Dad called on the walkie-talkie. "Did you say you got two of the fucking bastards?"

"Yeah, Dad. One looks like a Rottweiler and the other one looks like a German Shepard cross breed of some sort."

"That's the one that was acting as the leader. That means we got them all."

"So do we leave them here and wait for the cops?"

"Hell NO! I'm going to haul all of them and the dead calf to the vets, then after he's seen the mess, I'll call the cops and the game warden. Wil and I have our toboggans too, so we can take these three back with us and we'll come get those two you got before we go to town."

"I can get these two back to the house fairly easily and if you want I can bring them down to you."

"Oh no, you've done enough by just stopping the bastards. If anyone is going to get in shit for this, it's going to be me, but in turn if I can find out who owns any of these dogs, I'll collect the price of that calf too, out of their hide if necessary. We'll see you at your house in a half hour or so."

It took some doing, but I managed to tie both of the dogs bodies onto the buddy seat of my snowmobile and do it in a way that meant no legs or tails were going to get tangled in the drive belt. Only as I loaded the dogs I found that one had a collar and even an owner's name, so no matter what Dad said, I wanted in on this deal. I drove back to the ranch buildings much more slowly than my trip out had been though, but I knew I had lots of time, Dad and Wil had a lot further to go than I did. Once back at the yard I offloaded the bodies into the back of my pickup and covered them with two sheets of plywood to keep our dogs away from them.

As soon as I stepped inside Sandy told me Mom had called and wanted me to let her know what had happened, so I did.

"Hi Mom. For your information those weren't wolves, it was a pack of dogs. Other than that, I think you should wait for Dad to tell you about it."

"Is he very angry?"

"Ummm, I'd say he was far past angry. What word would you use that's far, far stronger than furious? Whatever that word is, that's about half way there. To put it plainly in terms you can understand, he was swearing. How often does he do that?"

"Oh, my! I'd better have fresh coffee ready when he gets back."

"Mom, he may not want to spend time drinking a coffee. He may not even pause at the house. He's dead set on taking the dead dogs and that dead calf into town and raising some hell. If you do see him, tell him I'm on my way down there with the two dogs I shot. Oh, and let him know that they were covered in blood when I first saw them and I imagine it's calf's blood. I'm calling my lawyer to meet us at the vets and then I'll be on my way."

"Oh, okay, Chris. If you think we need a lawyer, you'd better hurry, please." Mom plead, then hung up.

As soon as the line was clear, I dialled Cyrus Ambrose's home number.

"Hello, Cyrus Ambrose here. How may I help you?"

"Hello, Mr. Ambrose, it's Chris Crawford and I may have a legal problem for you in one way or another. I'm leaving home now and should be in town at the veterinarian's office in about forty-five minutes. If you are available could you meet us there?"

"Okay, Chris, I think I can make that, but could you give me an idea what the problem might be?"

"Well, a pack of semi-wild dogs attacked and killed one or more of my father's cattle and the leader of the pack was a German Shepard cross breed. He was wearing a collar and the tag on his collar said his name is 'Mr. Barker' and under that name are the words 'companion to Marjory Deloitte – animal activist.' If my father doesn't sue the woman for the value of the damage done, I'll want to do so, since it was part of my family's herd."

"Oh, Chris, you certainly know how to start my year off with a bang. I'll see you at the veterinarian's office. By the way, have you called Don Taylor to be certain he is available?"

"Not yet, I imagine Dad may have though."

"I'll double check that, and I'll explain that it is very important that he be available for a consultation."

As soon as I hung up I was heading for the door, but Sandy was getting dressed to go along.

"There is no way you're going to get to take a chaw out of that bitch's hide without me along to see that you chomp deep enough," she growled as she stomped on a set of snow boots. "I'll never forget the way she screamed at us in front of the whole town, but this time it's MY turn."

"Please, Sandy, don't be bitter about an incident in the past that should be forgotten, because there's no comparison to the present situation. Remember, I'm the one who shot the woman's dog, even if I did have a very good reason for doing it. She probably cared for that dog just as much as you care for Princess. Then too, she's going to have to accept the fact that her dog went rogue and was leading a pack of strays who were running wild and killing stock. She's not going to have an easy time accepting that. We have to take into account the fact that she has mental problems, so let's not dump on her until we see which direction she leaps, okay?"

"Dammit, why do you always see the other side of any argument and make me feel like a spoiled bitch?" she sighed deeply. "In fact you've got me worried, do you think she going to be alright?"

"I don't know about her at all," I sighed. "I just hope we can cool Dad's temper as easily as yours."

"Good luck."

"Yeah."

We hopped into the pickup and headed up the hill, then down to the crossroad. Dad was waiting there in his new one-ton and I could see Wil beside him, but as soon as Dad saw me he took off for town, so I followed behind. When we got to the vet's office, our lawyer and our veterinarian weren't the only ones there. Constable Davis of the RCMP was there too and as we got out of our trucks everyone greeted everyone else, then the Constable took over.

"Just where is the body of the animal you suspect to be Miss Deloitte's dog and before anyone makes any comments, I want Dr. Taylor to look over the animal."

"Her dog is in the back of my truck," I frowned, wondering what was going on as I shifted the plywood sheets aside.

Don Taylor leaned over the side of the truck box, grasped the dogs jaws, opened it's mouth, then nodded. "I'll need to take a cast to be certain, but I'm fairly certain this is the animal you want, Officer Davis. Who shot it by the way?"

"That would be me," I said flatly, beating Dad to the punch. "Is there a problem?"

"You just rid the county of a very dangerous dog. Thank You," Don Taylor said gratefully.

"Dr. Taylor, before you go any further I'd like to explain matters to the Crawfords," Constable Davis interrupted. "Chris you haven't been to town lately, so you may not know all the facts, but since you last saw her, Miss Deloitte's condition went badly downhill. In fact it became so bad that her doctor took to phoning her each and every morning, just to remind her to take her pills. Unfortunately, on the day before Christmas, she did not answer the phone when he called. After several attempts to reach her, the doctor called her brother who lives in Calgary. In turn he called the local detachment to ask if someone would check on her.

"At that point the RCMP became involved, so Constable Franks drove to her house and knocked on her front door, but got no answer. He made the decision to check further, despite the fact that he knew she had a guard dog which was normally kept in the backyard. However the gate to the back yard was wide open and he saw no sign of the dog. Upon entering the yard, he observed Miss Deloitte lying crumpled on her back steps. She had obviously been there for some time since there was a light covering of unmelted snow covering her body. Upon further investigation he discovered that her throat had been torn out, and we believe her attacker must have been a dog. As Dr. Taylor has mentioned, we suspect it to be the dog you were forced to destroy."

"Holy Shit!" Wil leaned back against the fender of Dad's truck. "I kicked that damn dog to keep it from attacking another calf and it lunged at me, but Dad hollered at it and scared it off."

"You are a very lucky young man, Wil," Cyrus finally said something. "Chris, I have been in contact with Miss Deloitte's brother. If you or your father will provide me with an itemized list of the expenses for the injured and destroyed animals, he is completely willing to reimburse your family. You should also include an estimated cost for the time wasted in hunting down and destroying that rogue beast along with that list and I will contact him in your stead."

"Talk to Dad, it was his calf, so it should be his money. Besides, Dad and Wil did all the work and chased the mutt into my sights. I just pulled the trigger on the rifle, and that doesn't take much effort."

In fact about then I was wishing I wasn't involved or that I'd just let Dad take the dog's body into town and had stayed home. Either Marjory Deloitte was more of a nutcase than I had been led to believe or else there was something fishy about the whole situation. I was positive there was more to the story than we were being told right then, but at the same time I knew better than to ask questions with Officer Davis standing there.

### Chapter 52