End of the Line

Chapter 26. Hard Times and Queer Turns

Chapter Twenty-six

Hard Times and Queer Turns 

The Wall Street Crash had little effect on the Bensons. The farm was already in dire straits. In the absence of Dan, Belle, Mary, and the maid Jean, the farm had become nothing more than a subsistence operation. They had greatly reduced the area of land under cultivation. Pop had given up his job at the Fosters in order to help Meg and George with the outside work. On heavy days, such as during the harvest, Bill's help was also commandeered, his schooling considered irrelevant. The two aging matriarchs struggled to keep the household in order. 

By fall, funding had become a major problem. They had insufficient cash to buy new seed or livestock. Hiring farm help was out of the question, and there was no way they could afford any of the labour saving devices that were increasingly available.  

To raise funds and get around the labour shortage they opened up the farm to the public for fruit picking, charging far less than the market price for their produce. A yard sale was organised. Virtually everything considered non-essential to the running of the farm they put up for sale. This raised a paltry sum, but they received interesting offers for the Model T, their bicycles, the trap, and Blizzard, items that had not been included in the auction.  

The McKelvies, a wealthy family from the Bolton area, expressed an interest in purchasing Blizzard for their eleven-year-old daughter, who had developed a sudden interest in riding. The offer was tempting. Blizzard was past his prime. He was now over twelve years old, his gait laboured, and his coat had lost its sheen. His Brome Lake Show days were over. Meg knew this, yet she was reluctant to sell. Blizzard had been such a big part of her life. An increase in the offer and a promise that she would be free to go and visit the horse at any time broke her resistance. This raised sufficient funds to see them through the approaching winter.  

The first snow had fallen. George, Pop and the two boys made their way to the woods above the upper pasture, where they had chopped some wood earlier in the year. It was now possible to bring it out by sled. As the sled was loaded, Bill stood at the head of Conker, occasionally stroking the horse's muzzle and marvelling at the clouds of vapour emanating from his huge nostrils. The sled was quickly loaded and the logs secured. 

"George. Can I lead Conker back down the hill?" 

"Sure. Just remember. Don't go straight down. Zigzag a little, especially here in the woods." 

Bill took his brother at his word. Unfortunately, he turned a little too sharply. The load shifted. Conker strained to control the toppling load. His hooves could not gain a grip on the snow covered rocky ground. The massive chestnut fell. There was a sickening crack. At first, they thought one of the wooden shafts of the sled had given way under the weight of the horse, but it proved to be intact. A bone in Conkers right front foot had broken. The large matted hoof was hanging uselessly from the leg, the fetlock joint torn apart. The horse, unable to regain its feet was in obvious agony constantly raising its head from the snow, shaking its mane, snorting and neighing in pain. 

"Pop would you mind staying here with Conker? I'll go and get Meg. She'll know what to do. Boys you come with me."  

The three of them quickly made their way to the farmyard where Meg was cleaning out the shippen. 

"George was it my fault?" whimpered a crestfallen Bill, who was on the verge of tears.  

"No. It was more likely mine. I did such a poor job of securing the load. Don't worry about it young un, accidents happen. Now get yourself back to the farm with Jack. Tell Mom what happened and that we're taking care of it."