Sophie Sea to Sea Page 5

  “The story will have to wait,” she said, vigorously scrubbing mud out of Sophie’s ears.

  While eating lunch which was Grand’maman’s crêpes rolled with brown sugar, (Sophie’s favourite), she told her family how Big Bad Bertha had caused Zephram’s escape to the bridge.

  “That hen!” said Grand’maman. “She’ll find her way back. She hates being out in the rain.”

  It had started raining during lunch so they rushed out and brought in the laundry and hung it to dry on string clotheslines above the stove. Grand’maman and Maman used irons which they heated on the stove to iron the sheets and pillowcases and the mountain of shirts.

  “Come on, Zephram,” said Sophie. “I’ll read you a story.”

  Zephram curled up under the table beside Sophie’s knee and stuck his thumb into his mouth. He was ready.

  She opened her comic and read. “One day Star Girl looked outside. To her utter amazement she saw.…”

  Sophie read on and on and on. The kitchen was warm and steamy. Zephram’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Soon he was fast asleep.

  Sophie sighed and yawned. She curled up around her little brother. Baby-sitting was certainly an exhausting business. How did Star Girl find the energy?

  5

  It was still dark when Sophie woke the next morning to the sound of rain splashing into the rain barrel outside Grand’maman’s window. She scrambled into her clothes and hurried to the kitchen where Grand’maman was already up and stirring a big pot of porridge on the stove. Her “Bonjour” wasn’t very cheerful. Big Bertha was still missing and she blamed Sophie.

  Maybe Sophie would have time to search for her after breakfast. She heard Papa stomping up the back step carrying a load of wood for the stove.

  “The river’s even higher this morning,” he said. “If we don’t leave soon, our car might not make it over the bridge. We could be marooned!”

  “In all my days, I’ve never seen the river so high,” said Grand’maman. “It’s even higher than last year when they had all that flooding in Winnipeg. The water’s almost at the lane. Once it reaches that point, it could flood the house.”

  Sophie gasped. Flood the house! They had to get out of there! Now!

  But Papa only said, “We should move your furniture up to the attic where it’ll be safe. And maybe you could go and stay with the Cotes next door. Their house is far enough away from the river to be safe.” He dropped the wood into the wood box with a loud clatter and went to the bottom of the attic stairs. “Joseph! Get up now,” he shouted. “Up you get, Henri and Arthur. We need your help.”

  “My chickens!” said Grand’maman. “If the water reaches the hen house, they’ll all drown!”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll just have to move them in with Madame Coté’s chickens.”

  “I’ll help you,” said Sophie, pulling on her jacket.

  Papa glanced over his shoulder as he rushed outside. “All right, Chérie. But we’ll have to hurry.”

  She stomped on her shoes and dashed out after him through the rain along the boardwalk to the hen house.

  “We’ll put them into these gunny sacks and load them up on the back of the tractor. I’m sure they’ll be safe at the neighbour’s until the river goes down,” said Papa.

  The chickens were still asleep on their roosts in the hen house when Sophie’s father opened the door.

  “Now, if we’re really quiet, we won’t wake them,” whispered Papa.

  Sophie quietly shut the door and tiptoed across the hen house, avoiding the slimier puddles. It was warm in there and stank of chicken droppings and grain.

  “Here, you hold the sack open and I’ll pop this one in,” Papa whispered, handing her a sack.

  The first hen didn’t even wake up when Papa gently scooped her off her roost and placed her into the sack. The second hen didn’t wake up either, but the third clucked a bit. The fourth hen clucked even more. It was the same fluffy brown hen that had given her so much trouble the day before. Big Bad Bertha was back!

  Big Bad Bertha clucked so loud and made such a fuss that she woke the other hens. Soon Sophie and Papa were surrounded by a clucking flurry of feathers.

  The hen house door banged open. It was Joseph.

  “Quick! Shut that door!” shouted Papa. “Don’t let the chickens get out.”

  But it was too late. Big Bad Bertha saw the open door, flapped her wings, and squawking loudly, she escaped. Sophie scrambled after her.

  “Stop, you Big Bad Bertha! Stop!” As fast as she could, she chased the squawking bundle of brown feathers around the muddy yard. She imagined she was Star Girl and finally she cornered the hen. She pulled off her jacket and threw it on top of the hen who became immediately still.

  Sophie bundled her jacket around Bertha and scooped her up. Patting her ruffled feathers, she carried her squawking back to the hen house. “It’s okay, Big Bertha,” she murmured. “It’s only me. I won’t hurt you.”

  “Bravo, Sophie!” said Papa when he saw her. “Star chicken catcher!”

  She grinned as she popped Big Bertha into Papa’s open sack. He handed Joseph another sack and they collected three more hens. Sophie marveled at how quickly her father worked, cornering the hens and speaking soothingly to them before scooping them into the sack.

  Soon all Grand’maman’s hens were in gunny sacks and they carried them out to the tractor. By then Arthur and Henri were there.

  “The boys’ll help me now, Chérie,“ said Papa. “You go and help your mother pack. I don’t like the look of that river one bit. We have to leave as soon as we can.”

  Sophie washed her hands and face at the kitchen sink with water from the stove. It hadn’t warmed up, but it was a lot warmer than the rain.

  “We got all your chickens, Grand’maman,” she said.

  “What about my fat Bertha?”

  “She came back in the night, so we got her too.”

  “I thought I heard her squawk out there. Good for you. Could you set the table now please?”

  While Sophie put bowls and spoons and cups on the table, she heard Grand’maman rummaging around her bedroom, opening and closing drawers.

  Maman came into the kitchen holding Zephram on her hip and carrying her suitcase. “There we are. All ready,” she said, settling Zephram onto the stool. “Be good now, petit ange. I’ll get you some porridge. Here’s your spoon.”

  He banged his spoon on the table and gurgled, “Poon, poon,” while she got porridge from the pot on the stove.

  Sophie heard the tractor return and a few minutes later Papa and the boys stomped inside.

  Grand’maman came out of her bedroom and started ordering everyone around.

  “Be sure to wash your hands after all that work,” she directed them. “Then sit down; we’ll have breakfast together.”

  Everyone was soon spooning up the hot porridge and cream and brown sugar.

  “That river is rising every minute. You’ll have to leave very soon or you won’t get your car across the bridge,” said Grand’maman nervously.

  Papa nodded. “I don’t think you should stay here either. It could be dangerous. If the river rises any more, you’d be cut off from the village.”

  “Well, I don’t want to stay with the Cotes. They’re already too crowded in that little house.”

  “We can’t leave you here alone,” said Papa. “How about crowdedin that little house.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t,” said Grand’maman. “It would be too crowded in your car.”

  “We’ll make room,” said Maman. “Sophie could sit in the back with the boys and you could have her place in the front seat.”

  Sophie groaned. She’d hate being squashed in the back with the pillows and blankets and her big smelly brothers.

  “Are you sure?” said Grand’maman.

  “Of course,” said Maman, ignoring Sophie’s groaning. “We’d only worry if we left you behind.”

  “I don’t like the look of that river,” said Papa, staring
out the window at the rising water. “I think we better leave right now while we still have a chance.”

  Grand’maman whisked into the bedroom and was back in an instant carrying a black suitcase.

  “I packed a few things,” she said. “Just in case.”

  “Ha!” said Papa. “That’s my mother for you. Always ready! Let’s get this furniture upstairs. Quick now! We don’t have time to waste.”

  Everyone scrambled around moving as much as they could carry up to the attic.

  “Let’s check if there’s any news about the flood on the radio before we move it,” said Papa. He clicked on the big Victrola radio and Sophie heard a voice crackle.

  “And to repeat the two top news items of the hour: Newfoundland has voted to join Canada. Tonight at midnight, it becomes Canada’s tenth province. And our second news item: A flash flood is threatening southern Manitoba. Warm temperatures and heavy rains are causing the Red River and its tributaries to rise and overflow their banks. Stand by for an update following this announcement from our sponsors.”

  “Leave everything else!” said Papa. “We don’t have time! Grab your suitcases and get into the car!”

  “But my dishes!” cried Grand’maman.

  “Leave the dishes!” said Papa. He seized two big suitcases and hurried outside.

  They all grabbed their coats and hats and rushed out with their suitcases and helped Papa stash them into the trunk. He slammed down the lid and they piled into the car: Papa, Maman, Zephram, and Grand’maman in the front seat while Sophie wiggled her way into the back with Joseph, Henri and Arthur. Their elbows and knees were sharper than usual and Arthur was especially grumpy.

  “Push over,” he said. ’Tfou’re taking too much room. Little sisters shouldn’t ride in the back.”

  When she moved over, Henri complained.

  Sophie worried their car would be swept into the river! Sophie couldn’t swim; she’d have to watch for a good log she could hold onto if they were thrown into the river. That’s what Star Girl would do.

  They bumped down the driveway with the windshield wipers flicking back and forth. When they got to the gate Arthur beat Sophie out to open it.

  “Hurry, hurry!” everyone shouted at him.

  He swung it open and Papa drove though. Sophie watched to make sure that Arthur slammed the gate shut behind them.

  He was panting hard when he scrambled back in the car beside Sophie and the badges on his Jughead hat were shiny from the rain.

  Papa turned the car left and they started down the slope toward the bridge. Sophie saw the river had swollen so muddy water had flooded over the bridge.

  “We’ll have to take it full speed ahead!” said Papa. “Hang onto your hats!”

  Sophie grabbed the back of the seat. She heard the car motor rev as it sped down the bumpy road. They splashed into the river flowing across the road. A wave of muddy water sprayed the car windows. The motor coughed and died! Right in the middle of the bridge! Right in the middle of the river!

  “Sacré Bleu! We’re stuck!” said Papa. He tried to start the motor again and again but the starter wouldn’t catch.

  “Vite! Vite! Hurry!” he cried. “Allons-y! Everybody get out to push!”

  Sophie and her brothers scrambled out the back doors while Grand’maman held the baby and Maman shuffled behind the steering wheel.

  The muddy water swirled halfway up to Sophie’s knees. It smelled like melted snow and was icy cold, even colder than the rain pelting her face, but she sloshed through it in her running shoes anyway. She wished she hadn’t left her winter boots behind in Quebec. Even leaky boots would be better than shoes in this deep water. But Star Girl wouldn’t complain about a little water. Not even if it was so cold, it made her feet throb.

  Sophie gritted her teeth and waded through the water to the back bumper. She stood beside Arthur, leaned against the car and gave it a big Star Girl heave. The car didn’t budge.

  “Not yet,” said Papa. “We’ll all push together. Okay now. One, two, three, push!”

  Sophie took a deep breath and gave the car another big push. The car moved forward a few inches.

  “Bravo!” shouted Papa. “Let’s try again. One, two, three, push!”

  After about twenty more pushes they got the car to the other side of the bridge. The car and trailer were still in water up to the bumpers, but it seemed to Sophie that it wasn’t quite as deep now.

  “Come on, one last push!” shouted Papa.

  As Sophie heaved with all her might, Arthur grunted beside her. He slipped and fell and his Jughead hat toppled into the water. The current swept it past Sophie.

  “My hat!” he yelled.

  Sophie lunged for it and fell to her knees in the mucky water, but she managed to grab it just before it slipped over the edge of the bridge. When she struggled to her feet, her skirt was soaked, but she held Arthur’s hat.

  She gave it to him and he squashed it back onto his head, grinning at her.

  “The exhaust pipe is clear now,” said Papa. “Maybe the car will start.” He shouted to Maman. “Try the ignition.”

  Sophie heard the motor grind, then the car coughed and snorted and the motor started once again.

  “All right!” yelled Joseph.

  “Yahoo!” yelled Sophie and Arthur.

  Sophie tried to wring the muddy water out of her skirt before they piled back into the car. This time, Arthur let her have the window seat.

  As Papa drove up the muddy slope away from the flooding river, her brothers sang, “We’re gone because we’re gone because we’re gone.…”

  Everyone else in the car joined them. They sang right through the village until Papa turned the car onto the highway and they were heading west again.

  What a relief to be back on smooth pavement! It seemed to Sophie the car was almost flying down the highway as the spindly bushes beside the fields whizzed by the window.

  It had been much better sitting in front beside Maman, who was all softness. And she sure smelled a lot nicer than Sophie’s brothers did with their stinky feet.

  Sophie wondered what Star Girl would do if she were squashed in the back of a car with three big brothers. But she wouldn’t be. And that was that.

  Instead she’d spread out her star spangled cape, stretch out her arms and fly right across this big gloomy Manitoba sky. She’d fly right across Manitoba in one single leap, not even stopping in Winnipeg for gas. She’d fly straight over Portage la Prairie and Brandon and Virden and all the other Manitoba towns, right to the Saskatchewan border.

  SASKATCHEWAN QUICK FACTS

  Motto: Multis E Gentibus Vires (From many people strength). Saskatchewan means “swift flowing river” in Cree.

  Population: 1,026,900 (1999)

  Size: 652,330 sq. km

  Capital: Regina

  Main industries: wheat farms, mining, oil refining

  Flower: Western Red Lily

  Bird: Prairie Sharp-tailed Grouse

  Tree: White Birch

  History:

  For centuries, various groups of First Nations peoples lived in the central prairies, hunting bison, caribou and beaver. From the early 1700s, Europeans traded for beaver pelts and built forts. Once the railway was built in late 1800, many settlers came to set up farms, pushing out the Metis people. Afraid of losing their lands, the Metis, led by Louis Riel rebelled, but they were defeated by government troops brought in on the new railway. Soon, thousands of farmers flocked in from Ukraine and Hungary. Saskatchewan became a province in 1905. The farmers prospered until 1930 when several years of drought turned the farms into deserts. Many people abandoned their farms to look for work elsewhere. The discovery of potash, oil and uranium ore also provided many new job opportunities for the inhabitants of Saskatchewan.

  6

  This time when they crossed the border from Manitoba to Saskatchewan, Sophie didn’t even look for a fence or a line on the ground. The only way she knew they must be in Saskatchewan was a small sign at th
e side of the road which said, “Welcome to Saskatchewan, Breadbasket of Canada.” The land had become flatter and there were fewer trees until the only thing on the flat horizon was the odd little straggly bush at the edge of the huge brown fields.

  In the distance, something moving caught Sophie’s eye.

  “What’s that?” she asked Joseph sitting beside her.

  He stared out at the moving object. “Don’t know,” he said. “Maybe a deer?”

  “Antelope,” said Papa. “Look, there’s a bunch down in that dip.”

  Sophie counted six of the light brown animals, as they leapt gracefully away over the swaying grass. She wished she could jump like that, straight up in the air. Watching them made her feel like running and leaping with them.

  It was late when they finally arrived at Uncle Leo’s farm on the outskirts of the village of Laflèche.

  “Who’s Uncle Leo?” asked Sophie from the back seat where she’d almost fallen asleep. “I didn’t know we had an Uncle Leo?”

  “He’s my cousin,” said Maman. “I guess he’s really your cousin too, but you can call him Uncle.”

  “Does he have any kids?” asked Arthur.

  That’s what Sophie was wondering too. Visits with relatives were always a lot more fun when the relatives had children—hopefully girls around her own age.

  “Yes, he has two girls, but I think they both must have grown up and moved away by now,” said Maman. “I haven’t seen Leo and Claire for years.”

  “Oh,” said Sophie, disappointed. For one thing, there’d be no one to trade comics with.

  The car bounced down the lane and before it even stopped beside a freshly painted white farm house, a loud tangle of barking dogs bolted toward them, followed by a tall man with a shiny red face and a hat with a wide brim.

  “Eh, les chiens! Silence! Reste tranquille! Quiet, you two! Quiet, now!” the man shouted at the dogs.