# Car 54

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© 2005 / revised 2014
K Pelle

### Chapter 52:
Caution - Morning Frosts / Black Ice

I was left in a strange frame of mind once we'd unloaded the dead animals and left them with the vet, I suppose I had been keyed up for a battle and instead we had heard about a tragedy. That left me relieved, but let down at the same time and for some reason I was still annoyed, but that was probably because I didn't feel I knew exactly what had happened or was happening. Somehow the situation wasn't fully resolved and it felt unfinished. I wanted some answers, but didn't think I was going to get them for some time. Since Constable Davis was in the midst of an investigation, and I knew better than to ask him any questions about an ongoing investigation, but Cyrus might know more than he'd said. So I invited him to have a coffee at the local Chinese café and to my surprise he agreed, then suggested Sandy, Dad and Wil should come with us.

Once we were all seated in the café I suggested I'd buy lunch and after we'd all ordered, I looked at Cyrus. "Okay, Cyrus, since you probably guessed we had questions, but were still willing to come here and even suggested Sandy, Dad and Wil come along with us, I take it you have something more to say, right?"

He nodded slightly, then drew a deep breath. "In the last while I've spoken to Miss Deloitte's brother quite extensively and discovered that she was quite a problem for her family. I had another short conversation with Mr. Deloitte this morning and he gave me permission to pass on a few details. Miss Deloitte has never been what most of us would call fully stable and amongst other things, he felt she had a love-hate relationship with her dog. She was dependant on the dog for protection, but at the same time she distrusted the animal and Mr. Deloitte stated that he knew from personal experience that on occasion she had a mean side. Unfortunately he thought she teased the dog at times and may have even beaten it on occasion. His thought is that she might well have caused the dog extreme pain and it retaliated in the only way it knew how, then since it was no longer under her control, it reverted to a feral existance."

"Oh shit, that'd explain it," Wil murmured.

"At the moment, Mr. Deloitte is quite remorseful and exceptionally angry. As he said, he will assume responsibility for the dog's deprivations since it was probably his sister's treatment of the animal which initially caused the problem. At the same time though, he feels her doctor failed Miss Deloitte and that she should not have been living in the situation which she was forced to confront. Mr. Deloitte now believes that she should have been institutionalized, but he was not made aware that her mental state had deteriorated to the extent it had. For some reason he had not been able to have contact with Miss Deloitte for two years, possibly at her insistence. In truth, his only contact with her seems to have been through the doctor, whom he now believes was remiss in her treatment, as well as in reporting her deteriorating condition."

"I don't understand why he didn't contact his sister," Sandy frowned. "Was it something like us and Uncle Bill, so he couldn't legally contact her?"

"I'm uncertain of the exact legal situation and I refuse to speculate on it at this time," Cyrus shook his head slowly. "Actually, other than passing on Mr. Deloitte's sincere apologies for the trouble you have been caused by the situation, there is little more that he has authorized me to say at this time."

"Well, thanks for clearing up a few points for us," I smiled, trying to ease the mood. "Have you any news of our other involvement with the law enforcement folks, in particular I'm thinking of the delinquents, Ray Smithies and Sid Parker?"

"Ah, those two," he shook his head and had a sip of coffee. "I am afraid those two young men will be some time longer before they achieve their freedom. It seems that while they were awaiting trial during the summer, they committed another robbery or two, one in Innisfail and another in Red Deer. It took some time for the proof of their involvement to be established, but they will be coming to trial on those charges even prior to being released from their present sentences."

As far as I was concerned that was all I needed to know about local problems, so I was glad to have Dad ask a question about one of the local bylaws. That managed to completely change the subject and we were on safe ground again as far as I was concerned. I was still slightly curious about the Marjory Deloitte situation, but I felt I knew enough to walk away from the subject and let the details filter through later.

After we'd eaten lunch, Sandy and I dropped up to see Grampa Bender for a few moments, but didn't spend long at the care home. He'd recently developed the habit of taking a nap shortly after lunch and since he was resting we didn't want to disturb him. After that we headed home, and we finally managed to have a chance to relax for a while.

The next few days were rather forgettable. Both Sandy and I spent some time working on that new correspondence course about business management, but as well as that I did some work out at the workshop. To be honest I was quite dissatisfied with several of the tools that I had been loaned since they were quite old and quite badly worn. So by Friday night I was feeling somewhat hopeful that I'd find much better tools at the auction we were heading for the next day.

I was up early on Saturday and Sandy came with me when I drove down to Uncle Tom's. She was going to spend the day with Mom and Aunt Alice while all the men around the place went to the auction. We didn't arrive at the auction for the majority of the sale of heavy tractors and trucks, but we did arrive in time for me to see an old 2 ton truck that really interested me. It was the next item for sale, a 1949 Ford F135 truck with a grain box and removable stock racks, but it also had a big sign on the grill – 'Parts only, motor dying.' Tom and I looked at one another, then I raced off to register as a bidder in the auction, but I got back in time to hear the auctioneer start into his spiel about the old truck.

"Here we go folks, this was a good old truck in its day and it's got fair rubber, but just look at the prime condition of the body and the box, even the stock racks are in great shape. Who will give me 500 to start?"

"Make it five bucks," Tom hollered, while standing twenty feet away from me. "We'd probably have to tow it home."

"Does the motor even run?" George hollered from the other side.

"Fifty bucks," I bid, just as I came up behind Dad.

"Seventy Five," I heard from behind me, but off to one side.

"We have 75, who'll give me 100, I'm bid 75 and ...

I pulled out my wallet and made a show of checking it as the auctioneer began his rapid patter, but just as he'd announced the word 'Going' for the second time I held up my card.

"Eighty bucks."

In the long run I didn't get the truck for eighty bucks, I paid two hundred and fifty, but the killer of any more bids was the auctioneer's fault. Some heckler asked if the engine even ran, so the auctioneer had a helper start the engine to prove it did. Then he had take a moment and walk away from the truck through a cloud of smoke from the engine's exhaust while he coughed and spluttered.

Right after winning the bid for the truck I went looking for Tom and George. I warned them that if they got caught farting around with the bidding process we could all be kicked out of the auction. They started to argue that my bidding was just as bad, but calmed down after Dad and Uncle Tom came over and gave them the warning that they'd send the two of them home if they screwed up again.

The only other item they sold right then that held my interest were the fuel tanks and the lubrication supplies. I'd twigged on the idea of having bulk diesel fuel and gasoline available on the ranch. So I entered the bidding on the two smallest fuel tanks and stands since they were empty and easily moveable. In short order I'd bought those, then I also got a case of 40 weight oil, thinking I might need oil for the truck on the drive home.

The actual farming equipment and other machinery came up right after the tractors, trucks and fuel tanks, but I felt I had almost everything I needed in that line. The only other equipment I might want were a newer baler and a hay conditioner, but both of them would be a lot more expensive than I wanted to pay right then. Besides, this auction was an estate sale of a retired grain farmer and he had no haying equipment, but Dad, Uncle Tom and Will were interested in grain farming equipment. I left them following the machinery auctioneer and headed for the farmer's workshop, followed by Tom and George who were being very quiet then.

The rumours had been true. The farmer who had lived on that place must have been a mechanic and perhaps would have rated as a craftsman. His workshop was divided into three sections and it showed his skills. The first section had two lathes, a milling machine, a mill/drill and things of that sort. The second section had equipment for his welding and repair work, so it was much bigger and had almost all his hand tools and wrenches. The third section was meant for woodworking and had a table saw, cut-off saw and several smaller power tools. Then out behind the main workshop was a brick building with a forge and a big anvil, as well as dozens of sledges, hammers and farrier tools.

That whole setup seemed like seventh heaven for me. I was wandering around in a semi-dazed state when a different auctioneer and a large section of the crowd came in. In moments the auctioneer started what was billed as the tool auction. I don't recall much of the auction itself, the only thing I clearly remember is looking down often and checking the numbers on a pad of paper where I'd written two sums before leaving home. Every time I made a purchase, I added that amount to my total, then I checked the two numbers I'd written previously. At the end of the day I hadn't spent the maximum I'd felt I could afford, in fact I hadn't spent as much as I expected, but those were the two numbers I had been checking all day long.

I was almost wasted, but I knew there was a further section to the sale and I wanted to check it out as well. There was one more building that we had to look at, but the crowd was thinning rapidly and the auctioneer decided to sell items in batches. Just then Dad and Uncle Tom came up to me and warned me they were heading home, but told me they'd loaded the two empty fuel tanks and stands on the old truck, and had put the case of heavy oil in the cab, so I just nodded and thanked them. I did ask Dad if he'd tell Sandy I wouldn't be too late, so I'd do the chores when I got home. Wil, Tom and George were staying behind to load all my other purchases, then they'd follow me home while I drove the old truck. I wished Dad and Uncle Tom a good trip home, then turned my attention back to the auction, intent on buying a few more items that I thought would be useful.

I still have the final detailed bill which lists everything I bought that day and those items have paid for themselves many times over. In fact I've used virtually every item I purchased, most of them at least once a month and some of them almost every day. I'll admit that some of the items, like the farrier tools only get used on the odd occasion, such as when a horse needs shoeing and since we don't ride any horse all that much, that isn't often. Others like the incubator sit idle most of the time, but even that is used by Sandy every spring as she culls out the older hens, then sets eggs for the next year's crop of chicks.

> Farm Auction, Jan 1970
> 1-1949 Ford F135 Truck w/Hyd Dump, Grain Box & Stock Racks
> 2-300gal Fuel Tanks & Stands w/Hoses & Nozzles
> 1-Case of 40W Oil
> 1-Old Metal Lathe w/48" bed, 8" swing
> 1 box - Lathe Tools & Accessories
> 1-Pedestal Milling Machine/Cross Drill
> 1-Pedestal Drill Press
> 1-2hp Bench Grinder & Floor Stand
> 1-Power Hack Saw
> 2-Acetylene Torches, Gauges, & Cart
> 1-220V 40/225Amp Electric Welder
> 3-Welding Helmets
> 1 box-Welding Supplies
> 1-Welding Apron & Gauntlets - Leather
> 2-Bench Vise
> 3 boxes - 3/8", 1/2" & 3/4" Drive - Metric & Imperial Socket Sets
> 2 boxes - Lg Quantity of Wrenches (Open and Box End)
> 1-6 Drawer Toolbox w/Rolling Cabinet
> 2 boxes - Tap & Die Sets - Metric & Imperial
> 1-20Gal. Air Compressor w/2hp Motor, Fittings & Hoses 6-Air Chisels
> 1-Air Rachet Wrench & Socket Set
> 1-Air Impact Wrench
> 1-Air Hose Reel & Hose
> 2-Bolt Cutters
> 4-Jack Stands
> 2-Shop Lights & Stand
> 1-Jointer Planer
> 1-Table Saw
> 1-Radial Arm Saw
> 1-Carpenter's Toolbox & Chest c/w Tools
> 3-Saw Horses
> 1-3 tray Shop Trolley
> 1-Forge & Tools
> 1 box - Farrier Tools
> 1-Large Anvil
> 3-Great West Stock Saddles
> 1-Assort. of Bridles, Halters, Pads
> 1-Electric Fencer & wire
> 1-Electric Egg Incubator
> 1-Transit & Surveyor's Rule
> 1-Lg Quantity & Assortment of Ham Radio Equipment & Parts

I don't feel I went 'auction crazy' like Tom implied, but some of the things I bought made other people scratch their heads. Most farm workshops at that time didn't have things like metal lathes and milling machines, but I knew I needed to fix the track rollers on my old D4 Cat. With an electric welder and a lathe I could 'hard surface' weld them, then machine them to fit and my cost would be about a quarter of the price of new rollers. I'd save the amount I'd paid for that lathe and perhaps even the welder just on the job of repairing that old crawler. Everything else I'd bought would pay for itself in one way or another as well. The only possible exception of that might be the ham radio gear, but those old radios were one way in which I might be able to indulge my passion for electronics while living on the ranch.

After I had written a check for the full sum of my 'auction binge' and had a bill of sale, it was time to pack up and leave. Somehow the four of us guys managed to wedge everything I had purchased that day into the old grain truck I'd bought and the two pickups we'd come in. Unfortunately most of the things I'd bought couldn't be exposed to the weather, so besides the fuel tanks and stands there wasn't a lot we could load on the old grain truck. Thankfully Wil's truck had a canopy which was fairly high, and it was loaded with the lathe, milling machine, electric welder and pedestal drill before anything else was added. As well, he'd thought ahead and had brought along several old horse blankets which we could use as packing. So his truck was loaded first and it was packed. Next we loaded Tom's pickup and filled the box to the brim so we could hardly close the pop-top cover. All we had left to pack was the ham radio equipment, so it went into the jump seat areas of the two extended cab pickups. However, before we left we wandered around the site and double checked that we'd loaded everything I'd bought.

Finally though everything was loaded and it was time to leave so I headed for the old truck, but I warned the guys I wouldn't be speeding. I was surprised to find that the gas tank of the truck was full, the engine oil was topped up and it even had antifreeze in the radiator. I started the engine to warm it up and then headed for home, but noticed after a few minutes of steady running that it smoked much less. Once I was on the road I realised that the engine had very little power, so even as lightly loaded as the truck was it had a hard time on any grade. About half way home I pulled over and shut off the engine for a few minutes while I went back and talked to the guys, then I checked the oil level. It was only down about half a quart, so the engine was in nowhere near as bad shape as I had expected. When I told Tom that, but mentioned that it was gutless, he just broke into laughter.

"It probably only needs rings and maybe a valve job," he snorted. "You've virtually been given another vehicle for next to nothing. I mean, who buys a working two-ton truck for two-hundred bucks?"

I wasn't in the mood to discuss it, so I just threw up my hands and headed back to the truck, then drove the rest of the way home. When I got to the ranch, Sandy was already there and so was my pickup. She'd helped both Mom and Aunt Alice to do most of the chores on both of the lower farms, then had come home and done ours. She was happy that our cow was dry right then and that Mom and Aunt Alice left the milk cows for the men, so she hadn't had to do any milking. As it was, she told me she'd call Mom and Aunt Alice to let them know the guys were home, then she'd make something for us to eat while we unloaded the trucks, so we followed her orders. I even had the guys load a lot of the borrowed tools into their trucks, tools which I'd been loaned just weeks ago, only now I needed the space for my own things.

As far as that auction went, I thought I had done extremely well and so did all the men in my family, but I'm certain all the women thought I'd gone nuts. I'll admit I hadn't gotten everything as cheaply as the items I'd bought in Olds at the farm equipment auction. However if you looked at the combination of the puchases at both auctions I'd almost completely equipped the ranch for most of the work I'd be doing. Not only that, but I'd equipped my workshop so that I could repair most items which might break during normal use. On top of that I had used less funds to acquire two tractors, a truck, tools and equipment than I would have expected to have to pay for the one used tractor and its equipment if it was bought through a dealer.

I know Sandy and Mom caught on to that one day when Dad handed Sandy a copy of one of the local papers with an advert for an almost identical tractor being sold by a local dealer.

"Liz, you checked our accounting figures, how much did Chris spend at those two auctions?" Sandy asked.

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Look at this? It's identical to his little tractor, but look at the price."

"Well, he did tell us what everything was worth, perhaps next time we should listen?"

"Huh, that'll be the day," I laughed, then had to duck a wet dish rag Sandy had thrown at me.

Still, from that day on, Sandy and Mom both checked the local papers for auctions of any sort.

During the rest of January I spent a few hours in my workshop, but mostly I devoted my time to working on that small business course that Sandy and I were taking by correspondence. I finished the darn thing, and sent in all of my work, but I was thoroughly dissatisfied with the content of the course and the fact that it had been recommended as what I needed. The whole point of the course had been geared toward providing a rank amateur in the business world with just enough knowledge to open a small retail store in a town or city. Not only that, but many of the methods which were taught were far from the best business practises and some were just plain wrong.

I waited until my results from the course were returned and I had written the final test, so my resulting high marks were published and available. Then I wrote a scathing letter to the school, with a carbon copy to the newspaper, stating that the course had been misrepresented and that I felt it was useless for any person who was involved with agriculture in any way. In my letter I pointed out how weakly most points had been covered and several obvious points which had been sloughed over or completely missed in the course material, then pointed out examples of the errors. I even pointed out several issues regarding the filing of business taxes which the course taught incorrectly. Then I expressed the opinion that almost any child raised on a farm was taught better business practises by the time they were twelve and that the course was a complete waste of time and money. Before I mailed the letter though, I had Cyrus Ambrose, my lawyer, read it over.

"Oh my! Can you prove the various points you make in this letter?" Cyrus frowned.

"I still have the basic course material, so I only used the examples they gave, then compared them to common business practises which I do know work," I handed him the course material. "You're welcome to check it if you wish. All I want you to do is check to be certain that those cheating bastards can't sue me. I've already wasted money on their crap and don't intend to line their pockets any further."

"Oh, I don't think they can sue you, but you might well be able to sue them and not just for the cost of the course either. It also took you countless hours to read and complete their course and I see from your final grade that you did extremely well on their test – 96% is not exactly a median score. Could I ask what you got incorrect?"

"That's easy, I answered one question with the legal way to handle a tax issue, and they marked it wrong."

"Oh ho," he chortled, flipping through the final exam, which had been returned along with my marks. "Oh my, I'm no tax accountant, but even I know that you were right and they were wrong, which draws a completely different conclusion to this situation. Since you brought this to me, I would like to handle your complaint, or at least part of your complaint. Unfortunately they are teaching a form of tax evasion and that is definitely against the law. That is a separate issue, and between them and the federal tax department, so all I can do is report that they are teaching illegal methods of filing business taxes."

"Cyrus, if you want to handle it, go for it. I've already wasted time and money on the dang thing, but I really feel someone should speak up about how bad that course really is. That's why I wrote the letter in the first place."

"Oh, I fully intend to mail your letters for you," he chuckled. "Then hopefully when the letter appears in several newspapers, the correspondence school in question might sue in an attempt to save face. If they do, we shall countersue, and I will recommend that you sue for defamation of character. I will ask Frank Dolens to take the witness stand as a personal reference for you and also as an expert witness on business practices. Next I will place John Coulter on the stand as another personal reference and an expert witness on accounting practises. Then I believe I'd call on Constable Davis, or perhaps young Matt McAdam as character witnesses. Last of all I'll have you get on the stand and will ask you about your last year and a half of revitalizing a nearly defunct cattle ranch. This may be a small town, but you have made some very influential friends in a very short time. If you are sued, I'm fully positive that we will win!"

"Hey wait a minute, Cyrus," I held up a hand. "I really don't want to be involved in a lawsuit and I'm not out to put the company out of business. I just think that if they are offering a course to people, it should be worth the time people invest in studying the bloody thing. I'd be completely happy if they changed the damn course to something which was worth the time and effort it takes to finish it. Sandy and I paid those buggers what I think of as large amount of money for a decent course, but they delivered crap and as far as I'm concerned all we really received was some very bad advice. I hate to see anyone pay good money for a waste of bloody time and a mess of useless misinformation, but it pisses me off when it happens to me."

"Well, at that rate, I think we might handle the situation in a slightly different manner," he looked thoughtful. "I could include a letter along with yours and initially only send the copy which is to go to the school. I could express your feelings about wanting them to improve, but coming from me, it might carry a little extra weight. The most obvious result would be that they might ignore the letter, or they might respond with a note that tries to belittle your claims and comments. If they react in either manner, I'd recommend that you publish a copy of the letter in several newspapers and again, I would include a covering letter. However, I can almost guarantee that they would react to that with a lawsuit."

"Look, if they are aboveboard, I want them to have a chance to improve, but if they try to sue me over that letter, you can call out the army, the navy, the air force and even the local wolf packs for all I care. I just want to see people getting their money's worth out of courses of that kind. I don't like to be ripped off and I don't think others should be ripped off either!"

In the long run I allowed Cyrus to send off my original letter, but to include a note from him along with it, and then wait until something developed or not. I'll be honest, I left his office that day feeling as if I'd just opened a can of worms and I didn't like the feeling, but then I thought about the fact that I'd paid for more than I'd received and knew that annoyed me as well. Right then I was feeling that I'd gotten involved in a situation I couldn't win. On top of that it felt like I couldn't walk ten feet without someone greeting me and I wasn't really in the mood to stand around and BS the day away.

Instead of harping on it though, I dropped into the local hardware store and picked up a few supplies, then drove down to Frank Dolens' car dealership, to talk to him, his mechanic and his painter. I wanted to know how hard it would be to get rings and other parts for a '49 Ford, flathead V8 motor. Then while I was there I wanted to know where I could buy a decent spray gun so I could paint the machinery I was planning to repair in my workshop. I couldn't see the sense in fixing things, then letting them rust.

I found that Tom had already told Frank about my old '49 Ford two-ton, so he had a full set of rings and a full set of gaskets sitting behind his parts counter, waiting for me to pick them up. I had to chuckle at the idea that Frank was one step ahead of me again.

"Frank, I have another question. Five years ago Grampa Bender had you rebuild a 48 Ford flathead, but he rolled the truck not long afterward. As far as I know that engine was undamaged. Can I just lift it out of the wreck and drop it in my two-ton?"

"The short answer is yes and no," he sighed. "You see when we did that job for Toby, we had an almost new '65 Ford F150 out back which had been in a wreck. Toby had been having starter and generator problems on that old '48, so Billy and Jerry stripped the wiring from the '65 and changed that old '48 from 6 volt to 12 volt. That included the regulator, alternator, lights and virtually everything electric, so nothing will work on a '49's old 6 volt system, not even the oil and water temperature senders will work. Besides, if that engine has been sitting for five years, it'll probably be seized up solid."

"Oh, I knew about the 12 volt system, because that's part of what I want to change on the two-ton, since I plan to stick a CB radio in it. As for the old engine just sitting for five years, it hasn't. There's still antifreeze in the engine block, because Grampa Bender connected the inlet and outlet hoses and there's still oil in the pan. Then there's always been a tin can slipped over the carburetor inlet and another one over the exhaust, so no bugs or mice are hiding inside," I grinned then. "Mostly though, it hasn't been sitting for five years. Just after he parked that old wreck, Grampa Bender ran the starter cable out where it was easy to get at and every three or four months from then on, either he drove his old International tractor down there or I did. We'd hook up the battery cables and use the starter to crank that old engine over for several minutes."

"You have got to be kidding me?" Frank said in a disbelieving tone.

"Nope, I'm telling you the cold hard truth," I laughed. "Grampa Bender always planned to get another old truck and have the engines swapped, but he never got around to buying one. He's the guy who taught me that you should run an engine at least twice a year or it will be ruined because the crankshaft and bearings will get deformed by sitting in one spot too long."

Franks started to laugh then, but after a moment he called in his mechanic for the back shop and told him the story. "What do you think, Ted, will that old engine still work?"

"Well, turning it over as often as that would probably stop the bearings from deforming because it was sitting ..." Ted paused, then he grinned. "You know, I think it would work and it just goes to prove that the old man is one smart old cookie. I'd want to replace the rotor, the distributer cap, the gauges, the alternator, the regulator, the fuse block and the various parts like that, because they'd be corroded by now. You'd have to run in a complete new wiring harness and new lights on the new truck, all that stuff wouldn't need to be changed to run on 12 volt though. Why not run a dual system with a 12 volt alternator and two 6 volt batteries, then you'd have both voltages and you could leave most of the wiring and lights as they are?"

"Well, actually, I was planning on running the engine that's in the truck for now, at least for a while longer, but I'll do a compression test on it before I use it much. It really isn't burning as much oil as we originally thought, because it burned less than a quart in over a hundred miles, but when you first start it up it smokes quite bad, so I think it has badly worn rings. I will take the parts though, and in the mean time I'm going to lift the engine out of the old '48. I'll take it up to my shop and check it over completely inside and out, so I guess I'll need at least a set of new gaskets for that too, won't I?" I reached out and picked up the box of parts. "Say, I just bought a compression tester to do that engine job, so while I'm here I guess I should ask what the compression on the cylinders of those engines should be."

"I can quote that one off the top of my head; a hundred and ten psi," Ted grinned at me. "My older brother restored a '49 Ford Club Coupe that he's owned from the time he was sixteen and any time he had troubles, I worked on the engine for him."

"Ahha, a flathead engine expert who can answer all my dumb questions," I grinned.

"Yeah, in your case answers are cheap, but work still costs money, and I've got a potload of it to do today. I'll see ya later," Ted grinned and waved his hand as he head back to his shop.

"Thanks, Ted, See ya," I called, then turned back to Frank. "Now, I've got a couple of other questions for you, Frank. I went over my figures the other day and I use quite a bit of fuel. When I was at the auction I bought two tanks that each hold three-hundred gallons, so I'll use one for diesel and one for gas. Now, I'll need fuel in those in a couple of months, hopefully after it's warm enough for me to get the tank stands set on a concrete base, but you'll be able to handle another bulk delivery, won't you?"

"Since you've got that nice new road run in, that won't be a problem at all," Frank grinned. "Only I won't have an excuse to come out in order to deliver drums of fuel in the new truck anymore, will I?"

"Naw, you'll just have to come out for a visit instead. Now I've got one more job while I'm here, but I'd better ask, do you mind if I go talk to your painter? I'm going to need a sprayer that works on compressed air and I'll need to find out where to buy implement paint to stop rust from forming on the welds and repairs I'm doing to my machinery."

"Go ahead and talk to Art about that while I'll get back to my accounts, but stop in to see me again before you leave, would you?"

"No problem."

I headed back to the spray booth and found Art Dumfries, the painter, who was hand sanding a car's front fender.

"Hey, Chris, what's up?" he smiled.

"Hi, Art. I came to pick your brains," I grinned. "I'm doing some equipment repair and I need to find out where to buy John Deere paint and a paint sprayer, but I could probably use some instructions on how to do a decent spray job too."

"Well, first off, I've got a couple of sprayers that I've retired because I'm using a lot of new paints. The old sprayers will do fine for acrylics or enamels though, which is what I'd expect you to be using. I can let you have one of them for just about nothing, say a couple of cases of beer?"

"How about twenty bucks, then you can pick your own brand?" I hauled out my wallet and handed him a bill.

"Damn, I like doing business with you," he grinned. "Now you're going to need an air drier and an oil filter on your compressor, but we ripped one out last fall, because I needed more air flow with the new paints. The old one would work for a small rig though. The box is under the bench over there and I'll bet if you talk nicely to the boss, he'd give it to you just to get rid of it,"

"Okay, I'll tackle him in a bit," I nodded. "Now where do I get paint? I need John Deere colours for now, just green and yellow."

"Oh my, do you have a lot to learn about painting. First off, brand name colours are very specific mixtures, so you can't use just any old green or yellow," he laughed. "I can probably mix the paint for you, but I'll get the colour numbers for the ingredients from a John Deere dealer first. Then I think you should come in here for a few lessons. Come to think of it, I heard you've got a dang good road down the hill now and that you're building up a helluva shop out there. Why don't I come out to see you on Saturday and we'll see if we can get you set up."

"That suits me, just as long as the weather is good. I wouldn't want you to get snowed in."

"No problem, I'll call and check with you anyway, but if I'm coming out to see you, why don't you leave that sprayer with me, and I'll tune it up to make sure it'll still work. You can take the air drier out and talk to the boss about that though. That thing belongs to the shop, not to me."

So I walked back out to the front carrying the box. "Hey Frank, Art tells me you guys don't use this old air drier any more and I need one in my shop. Would you sell it to me for fifty bucks?"

"No, but I'll pay you ten bucks to throw it in the back of your truck and get it out of my sight," he laughed.

"Since we're bargaining, how about we split the difference and I give you thirty?"

"Quit farting around and forget it, that's junk!" he stood up and took my elbow in his hand, then picked up my Ford parts in his other hand. "Let's go put all this stuff in your truck, but before you go, I want you to see something out back."

So we walked around to his car lot. There was a neat little Ford pickup sitting there, painted nearly the same colours as Car 54. The whole truck looked in quite good shape and the box even had varnished wooden stock racks.

"Beth just turned sixteen, then went right out and got her driver's license, didn't she? I think she should have a truck of her own, one that she could use to haul a horse or pull a small horse trailer. When I saw this pickup in the car auction in Calgary the colour attracted my attention, but when I looked it over I thought of Beth, so I gambled and picked it up. Mechanically it's sound as a dollar and it's not that old. The interior and the upholstery are in great shape, if you strip off those ugly seat covers. The exterior paint could use a cutwax job to bring it back and make it bright and shiny, but there doesn't seem to be any visible rust. The only problem we can find with it is the tires. I bought it for eighteen hundred and I can let you have it, tuned up, polished up and with new tires, for twenty-four."

"Let's go write out the papers," I grinned and nodded. "I'll let you deliver it. Just say it's a gift, and don't say who it's from. Oh, and make sure this doesn't show up on any of my accounts either, she might see that on the farm accounts. I'll even make a quick trip to the bank for the money, then you can write out the bill of sale for cash and list Beth as the new owner. Since it's going to be a farm truck, John can even license and insure it on the farm's blanket policy with no fuss. That way she'll have fun trying to find out who did buy it,"

"Your little sister must think you're just plain mean if you tease her like that," he laughed, slapping me on the shoulder.

I left Frank's office feeling much better than I had been when I arrived there.

As soon as I went home that day I ran that compression test on the two-ton's engine and its compression was definitely down, more on two cylinders than the others. Then I threw on the vacuum guage and almost wept. If I was reading it right it had weak valve springs and a couple of burnt valves. So I called up Tom and the next evening he was there and ran the same tests.

"It isn't real bad," he sighed. "It seems to be all on the top end, but who knows what we'll find when we pull it and open the pan. What do you think?"

"I think we'll pick a good day and pull Grampa Bender's engine out of the wreck instead. In the meantime I'll be real careful if I do use this beast, but I won't use it unless I have to," I matched his sigh. "Really though, I can't see needing this truck for several months, so I have some time to work on it."

"Make that we and not just you, fella," he slapped my shoulder and grinned. "You don't think you're going to get away with doing a neat job like that without me being involved, do you? After all, I'm the guy with the reputation for being a mechanic, not you."

Art Dumfries did come out from town and teach me how to use a paint sprayer. Of course part of that day was spent just showing him around the barnyard and the shop, then we spent an hour or so, mounting that air drier on my compressor. He liked the setup in my workshop and he liked my compressor, but he told me the air tank was too small and warned me to get a bigger tank if I wanted to do any large jobs. He did get me to spray two or three little jobs. That lesson included how to thin the paint when necessary, how to use the sprayer on the job and how to clean up my sprayer afterward. By the time he was ready to leave I felt I owed him a favour for all his help.

Art just laughed and pointed in the direction of the road. "My family and I owe you a ton more than this. Not only did you save Jason thousands of bucks on the electric service to the ranch, but you arranged to run in an emergency road that eliminates all the big hills. On top of that you've brought in other people on the county road, so the county does some maintenance on it now. I can actually drive out there to see him and his family with a normal car and they can get into town easily. So you can count this as a small part of the backlog of favours we owe you, okay?"

"I was just looking after number one," I laughed. "If you got some benefit out of it, it was accidental."

"Yeah, maybe that's so, but then you killed off that crazy woman's damn dog that ran wild. Do you know my landlady was terrified to walk from the house to the car for the week after that woman was killed. The whole damn town was worried as hell. I'll bet in the week before you killed it, the hardware store sold more rifles and ammunition than they sell during the week before the opening of hunting season," he shook his head then and chuckled. "It's funny now, but I was even looking every which way and wondering if that damn dog was going to show up around the next corner. When Don Taylor and Constable Davis started spreading the word that you'd killed it, the whole town breathed a sigh of relief."

"Hey, I hadn't even heard about Marjory Deloitte being killed by her dog. I was just protecting my family's animals and happened to be in the right place at the right time. My Dad and my brother are the ones who did the real work."

"Yeah, well right now any member of your family could rob the bank in front of the whole town, and I'll bet you couldn't find one person willing to be a witness in court," he laughed as he opened the door to his pickup, then waved and hollered over his shoulder. "See ya, Buddy."

The next weekend we had a lot of visitors, probably because the weather was good and there was no forecast of snow. In fact we had a mild chinook, which seems to entice people into visiting and my new shop tools seemed to be as good an excuse as anyone needed to drop on by. Sandy kept track and we had over forty visitors between Saturday morning and Sunday evening, which had to be a record of some sort.

It was on Sunday morning while my family were having coffee with us that I mentioned what Art Dumfries had told me about the town having been terrified of the dog.

"You haven't spent much time in town and seen what it's like, have you?" Mom asked. "I'll swear I can't walk down the street without someone coming up and thanking me for that dog being dead. For some reason they all seem to think the whole family went out and hunted it down, just for them."

"It was crazy at school the next day," Beth shook her head. "Just ask Tom or George what they went through."

"Hey, it wouldn't have been so much of a circus, but I guess the kids had been worried about walking to school, so the Principal called an assembly on the Monday morning. He stood up there and announced that the Crawford family and the Bender clan had formed a posse to hunt down the dog pack that was ravaging their herds. Supposedly Will had been viciously attacked and Chris, being his brother, had vowed revenge, so everyone had jumped on their snowmobiles and chased the dogs into a blind canyon that had only one exit. Chris had taken a stand there and even though he was under attack, he had shot the most wily dogs, including the one which had murder Miss Deloitte," George just shook his head. "I was pissed off with the Principal and told him afterward that he'd stretched the truth so far it almost snapped. The stupid ass!"

"Of course no matter what any of us say, the kids just think we're being coy or something," Beth snorted. "They simply refuse to believe that we weren't even there."

"Well, there isn't much we can do about it. You know how folks are with rumours, they'd rather believe a fancy lie than the plain truth, at least this one is quite complimentary and it does have some basis in fact," Dad chuckled. "This just gives the old biddies around town another short chapter to add to the Bender family legend."

We all had a chuckle about that.

The next couple of months were extremely busy for me, even though it was winter and ranchers are reputed to be bored most of the winter. By buying all that farm equipment and then those tools, I had lots to do. I often spent eight or ten hours each day, just tearing something apart, cleaning and checking every part for wear and damage, then doing any repairs that were necessary. After that came the fun part, which was putting it all back together again. Of course at some point between the time I'd fixed the machine, then parked it back in the equipment shed, I'd paint it so it looked almost like new.

I didn't always work alone either. Tom and George often dropped by on the weekends, but so did Dad and Wil, only they usually dropped by during the week. Matt and John came by once or twice when they were home from Olds and they spent one whole day with me, helping to build a wall around one corner of the main shop, so we could protect the lathe and milling machine from the worst dust and dirt. Then Tom and George came by another weekend when the weather was trying to cooperate, so we dug Grampa Bender's old wreck out of the snow, found some tires to fit it, then dragged it up near the workshop. It wasn't warm enough to take off our gloves and work bare handed, so we didn't pull the engine, but at least we were able to shift things around in the equipment shed and store the old wreck inside. Tom and I whipped off the hood, then pulled the carburetor and alternator so we could take them into the workshop and fiddle with them. That was more of a symbolic gesture than anything though, we really didn't get a lot of work done on them that day.

I'll be honest, by that time I was starting to enjoy the company of friends and relatives a lot more because they broke up the tedium of daily existence. Both Sandy and I were both looking forward to nicer weather by the time February rolled around.

### Chapter 53