End of the Line

Chapter Ten. The Farm

Chapter Ten

The Farm 

After some shy, awkward introductions, George and Dan loaded the luggage on to the farm cart. Ma and Pop Benson positioned themselves up front alongside Mrs. Maclean, the driver. Belle and Mary sat on the bench on one side of the cart with Dan and George opposite flanking Meg, the daughter, and their guide on this final leg of their trip. Mrs. Maclean asked Betty and Bill to sit amongst the luggage in the centre of the cart, but after legitimate complaints that they could not see things, she allowed them to stand, holding on to the back of the driver's seat. 

There was no cracking of whip, just a "Home Conker," and the immense white hoofed chestnut set the cart in motion, apparently with effortless ease. The horse needed no guidance. He knew that on exiting the station he had to head along the main road towards Foster. Meg informed them that this road through the village had recently been "tarmacadamed", a comment that caused her mother to turn and say, "Another fine old Scottish invention, ye ken." On crossing the village boundary, the road surface changed to dirt. Every once in a while they would hear a honking in the distance, and Mrs. Maclean would bring Conker to a halt in the side of the road to allow the passage of one or more road hogging automobiles. These speeding vehicles, driven mainly by vacationing city dwellers, raised clouds of thick grey dust that covered everything. George realised why Meg had chosen to dress so casually in a tartan shirt and blue dungarees. 

Luckily, after travelling just over two miles along the edge of Brome Lake, they left the main road, turning right on to a narrower rough surfaced track rarely used by automobiles. Dense growths of maple and silver birch bordered the undulating road. The horse started to strain a little, especially on the uphill stretches. On the steep sections, Dan and George leaped from the wagon to lighten the load. 

Eventually Mrs. Maclean brought Conker to a halt beneath a large wooden sign bearing in bright yellow letters, "THE MACLEANS", interwoven with paintings of purple-headed thistles. Two tall pines supported the sign that spanned the entrance to the farm.  

George felt a keen sense of anticipation as the horse pulled the wagon through the trees bordering the farm. The trees thinned first on the right to reveal a wide-open vista and in the distance, a log building perched on the edge of a bluff. 

"There it is," said Meg. "Your new home." 

"But it has to be more than a mile away, Meg." 

"Not quite George." said Meg with a trace of a burr. "This field on the right that stretches right up to the pond in front of the farmhouse we usually use for corn, but this year we left it fallow. The thrashers came in a couple of weeks ago and we should have enough fodder for the winter." 

"And you own all this land?" 

"Yes, George." 

"What about this huge orchard to the left? Is that yours too?" asked Dan. 

"Yes. Father bought out the original owners. It turned out to be a good investment." 

"I'd say so, looking at the fruit on those trees right now. They're almost ready for picking." 

Mrs Maclean turned, "You've arrived in the nick o' time." 

This was obviously going to be one of their first chores, George thought. 

Slowly the horse made its way up the gently sloping path along the edge of the cornfield on one side, and row upon row of heavily laden apple trees on the other. They came to a fork in the road. The road to the left meandered through the orchard. Dan was his usual curious self.