By Peter Wall – Sicamous, B.C.
We lived on a homestead near Macdowall, 30 km southwest of Prince Albert, Sask. My dad and his siblings were spread about the district and cooperated with one another over just about everything, from building on the homestead, getting in winter farm wood, harvest, and whatever else needed doing.
Life took lots of shapes for us preschool kids in the mid-1940s. We enjoyed the outdoors and were always ready for adventure.
My older sister, Helen, was married and they lived on our property not too far away. She was at our place with her four-month-old baby one day and at some point, met up with my older brother, Henry, who took her along in the horse-drawn sleigh. The trip involved swinging by the sawmill that dad and other relatives were running on the property.
I don’t recall what the purpose of the trip was – be it taking Helen home, picking up something that needed repair, dropping off lunch or water, or just showing off the grandchild to dad before carrying on.
He’d run them like chariot stallions
Whatever it was, Henry was eager to rig up the sleigh and hitch up the Percheron-cross with the big head along with the Clydesdale-cross with the big feet. I mention their ‘cross’ status, because they were usually gentle creatures when anyone put them to work, but with Henry they took another character.
He loved to run them like a couple of chariot stallions, and they seemed to like the break from tedium. I leaped at the chance to go along because I loved Henry’s approach to a winter sleigh ride.
We moved at a great clip and hooted with some of the lurching and bounce involved. The joyride was around our property, so the trails and tracks were familiar enough to Prince and Mick. The mill wasn’t that distant and we got there with the horses not the least bit winded.
Helen, the baby, and I stayed in the sleigh while Henry trotted up to the mill to do his errand. That’s when adventure broke out. The harnesses had blinders attached to them. Henry must’ve shouted something up to the mill, what with all the usual noise it created, and the horses heard him. They made an interpretation that his shout was a command and they took off on the run!
The reins were flopping about like a couple of dizzy snakes on the ground. I gripped the side of the sleigh figuring it was the greatest fun ever. The horses were all over the place, sometimes on the trail and at other times tossing the sleigh up on a snowbank and then back down.
‘I felt my frame going airborne’
Helen’s mind was going full speed. She was a young mother scared for the baby she was determined to protect. As the jarring continued, she grabbed my shoulder and shouted in my ear as she yanked me over to her at the back of the sleigh. All I got was some mumble about ‘dropping over’.
I saw her lean over the back with the baby and the next thing I felt was my frame going airborne and into the snow swirling behind the sleigh. She leapt out a moment later. The next thing I knew, I was shaking snow from my tumbled frame as she hauled me upright.
In a flash she was dragging me along to baby Ida, a crying bundle about 20-feet further back on the trail. She looked a little frazzled, but still managed a confidence-recovering smile at me as we trotted up the trail with Henry dashing toward us at full speed.
He ran up to us, then carried on passed us, flailing and shouting after the team, as the chariot stallions were happily doing their thing.
