Pulling Your Part of the Load

 by Marvelle Hyde Noble

When I was growing up, you would probably have called me a tom boy.  I loved the outdoors and was always exploring.

My poor mother had a hard time keeping track of me. I loved to visit and when we lived in Raymond, I had my regular route I took almost daily to walk up one side of Main Street going and the other side going home. That way I could usually hit all the people I wanted to say hi to. I didn't stop long, but at the first northern edge of Raymond, I stopped at the black smith shop to say hi to Grandpa Hyde, Raymond's blacksmith, and then I'd start back.

I loved animals and so when we moved from Raymond, AB to Rosemary, AB, it was not unusual for my to explore the half section my father had rented to see what was on it.

Rosemary was pretty well bald headed prairie, however, I found lots of animals - rabbits, ducks, pheasants, garter snakes, gophers, deer, antelope, geese, etc. I gathered the pheasant eggs and took them to school and got ten cents a dozen for them. These eggs were then taken to nearby Brooks to the pheasant hatchery for disbursement and finally to the southern fields of Alberta to preserve the declining numbers of pheasants.

We always had lots of animals around the farm - cows, chickens, cats, dogs, horses, etc.

I will always remember my first horse, Old Bess. Well, she wasn't old. She was a colt when Dad brought her home - coach black with some percheron in her. She was big but tame. 

Dad told me I could ride her and I did. Why I could go twice as far with Old Bess and I didn't get tired like I did when I had to walk.

Dad broke her to harness and used her on the hay-rack and other wagons on the place. Dad had another horse too named Big Doc. Doc was big and he was grey in colour. Dad said he was as "lazy as a pet soon" because Doc usually let Bess do all the pulling. He was older and more experienced. He knew that she was young and was a good horse in the harness. Bess would pull her heart out if you let her. She was getting bigger too and loved to pull.

We then moved to Boundary Creek, AB to a ranch in the southwestern corner of the province. We had cattle to feed and my father worked hard trying to eek out a living for his family. I often helped him as I was the oldest and he usually had to have someone drive the team as he loaded the hay-rack they pulled. I suppose I was lucky having no brother so that I could go with dad and help.

In the summer, the cows grazed on the luscious grass but in the winter you had to feed them by taking out big loads of hay on the hay-rack. The snow was deep many years and it was hard work for the horses to pull the hay-rack from the haystack to the fields where the cows were.

Dad cussed Doc a lot. Not that the horse was old, he just didn't like to pull like Bess did.

You could hear Dad in the clear crisp winter air yelling at the come, "Come on! We're almost there! Pull! Gee/gaw!" and old Bess would hit the tug hard with her chest and as she did Dad would yell at Doc, "You old son of a gun (or stranger language) pull! Don't let that mare show you up. Pull Doc!"

These were the best of times for me. I loved to go with my dad and ride at the top of the hay filled wagon. Dad sometimes let me drive the team. We always sang our favorite songs, "Have I told You Lately That I love You" or "You Are My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine." I am sure we would not have won any singing contests, but we loved to sing in the quiet winter air and I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that my earthly father loved me and with the beauty surrounding us, I also knew there was a Heavenly Father that also loved me. My father had told me this and I knew it to be true.

One day we got stuck. The snow was deep. We had pulled out to a hay stack in the middle of a field. The rack was light as we drove out to the stack but once the hay was loaded it had grown heavy and although the rack had rubber tires, it had sunk deep into the snow. Dad knew that either the horses pulled it out or we would have to unload the whole thing and start over.

"Come on Bess! Come on Doc!" he yelled at them. "You can do it! Pull you sons of bitches! Move it!" Bess was trembling as she tried as hard she she could Dad usually didn't yell at her and she was scared. I was scared. Dad was in a rage and I was almost bawling. Bess was sweating Dad was sweating as he worked the horses in his attempt to provide for his family and his animals. It was cold. I was cold. Why we were miles from nowhere - just me, my dad and the team working against nature and cold. We were alone.

I prayed the team would pull the loaded rack out of the deep snow. "Pull Doc!" I prayed. "You've got to pull the load or else those cows in the back quarter simply aren't going to get anything to eat today."

We had started out early enough and had gotten the load on before 11:00 am, but it was now past lunch time and we knew the sun started to go down early in the mountains. The air was crisp and my father's voice carried in the cold brittle air.

Dad threw his parka off as he sweat trying to work the horses out of the snow. It seemed we would almost get out and then the horses seemed to give up and slack off the tugs. Doc acted like he'd been there before and had given up.

Dad scream, "Pull Doc, or I'll kill you!" Doc acted like he hadn't even heard. His ears didn't even move. Dad threw the reins down and grabbed a post sitting beside the haystack. I knew he was going to kill Doc if that dumb horse didn't do what he had to do. Dad walked up to the front of the horse. "You son of a bitch. I told you I'd kill ya if you didn't help that mare!" Down came the post right in the middle Old Doc's ears.

The horse slumped in the harness to the ground almost pulling Bess to her knees. I knew he was dead. "You've killed him! You killed Old Doc! He didn't mean it!" I screamed at Dad. Old Bess stood trembling like a leaf, sweat beading out of her back and flanks. I ran to Old Doc's head and cradled his head in my arms.

"I haven't killed him," Dad said. "I've just knocked him out. He'll come round in a minute."

I was bawling my head off. Big tears wet on my face falling on Old Doc. Then a miracle happened. Doc opened his eyes. I jumped back. He blinked and tried to get up.

Dad gave him a minute and Doc struggled to his feet. He stood there a second or so and breathed deeply. Then Dad walked to the back of the team and picked up the reins again.

Both Bess and Doc stood at attention this time. Old Doc's ears were standing straight up and I knew he was listening to whatever Dad had to say.

"Now I"m going to give you one more chance," Dad yelled at Doc. "When I yell PULL, you'd better pull or next time I WILL kill you."

Dad held the reins high and then slapped them down on to the backs of the two horses. He whistled that famous whistle only my father had. Two horses threw themselves into the tugs, pulling like two animals gone wild. My eyes water and I cry now as I write this. I knew that only God helped those two animals pull that load out that day. They fought for air in the cold as the air hit theri lungs in big gulps. They snorted. They grunted slowly, but I could see the load move out. An inch, a foot and finally the rack was moving. It was moving slowly and then faster to better ground.

I was screaming at the top of my lungs. "Yay for Doc! Yay for Bess!"

Dad stopped the team about a hundred feet from the stack once they had gotten through the deep snow. He threw down teh reins he had held as he walked behind the team and beside the hay0rack. He walked to the front of hte team. He put his arms around Old Doc's neck and cradled his head. He loved and kissed his nose. "I knew you could do it!" he said to the old gelding. "I knew you could do it!" Old Doc straightened just a bit, I thought. For the rest of the day that old goat pulled like a tractor.

Dad walked to Bess' head and gave her a hug. "Thanks dear heart," he said to her. "You are one of the best horses I've ever had."

I've often thought of this scene in my mind. I was about eight years old. It was very traumatic for me. After it was over, I was drained like after you have sobbed for a very long time. I was unusually quiet for the rest of the day as I drove the team and Dad threw the hay off to the ever hungry cows.

I had heard the grown-ups say that "the power is in you". The power? The power to do what? After thinking about it for a very long time, I realized that sometimes we have to reach into our inner selves to find the power to do those hard tasks we are sometimes called upon to do. To teach into that inner core of ourselves and do something that we do not think that we can do.

Remember that if you have a task that you do not think you can do but you feel you must do it, remember the story of Old Doc. He did not think he could do it. I do not think it is wise to be hit on the head so hard that it knocks you out or a second or so but sometimes we must talk to ourselves and "talk - not knock" some sense into ourselves. We must sometimes do those things we think we cannot do. The power is in you. If you have a hard task you must do, reach inside that inner self reserve and take it out to use when you need to. And remember prayer. Heavenly Father will help you achieve anything you need to do. Ask and he will show you the way. He will show you that inner source of strength - that power that is in you.

Many times there have been things that I have thought I could not do. But I have done them by reaching into my very soup to find the power. I have passed that power on to you. All you have to do is reach inside and do that which has been asked of you.

Today we were at the Senior Missionary Training Centre and as I sat there and thought of this story I wanted to share with you. Working with your companion, whether a horse or another person, you must work together to achieve. If one person does all the work and the other sits back in the traces the work will not be accomplished.