Emerson Hockey Memories

Photo Source:  James McClelland

The team in the picture above is from the early 1960s. It was made up of players from Emerson, Dominion City, Letellier, Noyes, and players from UND.

Back row, left-right: John Mathes, Al Hayden-Luck, Ben Comeault, Unknown, Tony Loiselle (Goalie), Unknown, Ed Mackay, Alfred "Babe" Ayotte, Doug Gruenke, Gary Beckstead¹.

Front Row left-right: Clayton Grey, Tom Forrest, Dean Beckstead, Donny Kernihan, Barry Solnes, Sam Leathers, Wilf Beaulieu (playing coach). "The unknown players probably were imports from Grand Forks; the team was often accused of bringing in imports", says James McClelland

James McClelland [formerly of Emerson] shared the photo with me, and the following commentary:

Water Cooler II

In this edition of the "Water Cooler", St. Vincent natives recall the simple pleasures of curling and ice skating.

I am younger than those in the conversation, but even I remember the curling rink when it *was* a curling rink (the building still exists), as well as the outdoor rink at Pembina. I even remember trying to go down those "creepy" steps once, as a 6-year old little girl. By then, the steps were getting a bit rickety, as well as being very steep; I chickened out! But I recall seeing others skating on it, especially at night with the string of bulbs that seemed to float above the ice. The rink was down a steep embankment, right alongside the Pembina River.

When the 1966 flood came, it was the end of the rink forever...

St. Vincent Curling Rink

Tess Dissmore THERE WAS A CURLING RINK IN ST.VINCENT ACROSS FROM THE GARDINERS. WE USED TO WATCH THEM PLAY , MY BROTHER -IN-LAW MANUEL GOOSELAW WAS PLAYING THERE ONE NITE AND THRU THE ROCK AND DIED OF A MASSIVE HEART ATTACK. , HE WAS MARRIED TO LEONA CAMPEAU. I BELIEVE IT WAS 1959 OR 60.

Ginny Grumbo-Mcallister Eva and Frank Gardiner were my aunt and uncle Dave Geddes In the late 1920.s when I learned to skate Pembina did not have a indoor rink.

Dorothy Barber Ted Ryan used to skate on a small rink that someone made sort of under - to the north - of the Pembina bridge.

Tess Dissmore WELL I WAS AROUND TILL 1957 AND WE ALWAYS WENT TO PEMBINA TO SKATE AND I DO REMEMBER TED RYAN.  SOMETIMES WE WALKED AND SOMETIME WE GOT A RIDE BUT IF WE HAD TO WALK HOME WE HAD A LONG TREK, IT SEEMED, BUT WAS SCARY TO GO OVER THE OLD BRIDGE. MANY GREAT MEMORIES SKATING ON OPEN RINK BY PEMBINA BRIDGE. TED RYAN, I REMEMBER HE WOULD THROW HIS HAT ON THE ICE AND HE HAD LONG BLADES ON HIS SKATES AND HE WAS A VERY GOOD SKATER AND WOULD COME AROUND FAST AND PICK UP HIS HAT W/ HIS SKATE. WE HAD A SHOW FOR US...ENJOYED HIM.

Cleo Bee Jones I loved going into Pembina to skate at the rink, the last time I skated there was 1958! Memories, la da da da da da da da da

Trish Short Lewis No one alive now has memories of the 1897 INDOOR skating rink in Pembina, but it evidently once existed...

Tess Dissmore THERE WAS A SKATING RINK IN ST. VINCENT RIGHT NEXT TO THE CURLING RINK, BUT I JUST DON'T REMEMBER SKATING THERE A LOT; JUST DON'T KNOW WHY NOT?

Donald Reese I remember the curling rinks, but not the Skating rink, the curling rink had wooden bleachers up on one end so you could watch them curl, and of course the brooms were different then. those old curlers could really make those old broom whisk. [Note:  In the early 1960s, I once sat on those bleachers myself.  It was towards the end of the building's use as a curling rink, and I was there to watch my grandfather play one of his last games...]

Delphine Mundorf yup those old brooms were like the old straw brooms we use to have. Watched grandpa use one in Bemidji in a tournament. He also threw the stone at different Times.

Betty Jeanne Short Thorsvig Sharon and I used to skate A LOT on the Pembina rink. She was a better skater than I. My memories of the Pembina Skating Rink are: how cool it was way below the city, made on an open plain above the river. When you entered to go down the creepy (steep) stairs off the main street, there was like a hundred wooden steps to even get down to it. They would play music. There was a wooden shack where you could borrow skates if you didn't have any. Wooden benches to sit and put on your skates and a stove to keep you warm. I also remember skating on Lake Stella and also Dad would clean off a spot for us on our land where was a pond. I LOVED winter as a kid!! Wish someone would have pictures far and near of that rink.

Red River Derby Revisited

There had never been a race like this before.

At the time it was run, it was the longest dog sled race in history. 

There was media coverage from all over the world. 

The course ran from Winnipeg to St. Paul, and came right past Emerson, Pembina, and St. Vincent, before veering slightly west and then again south towards Hamilton and beyond...

In Their Own Words: Charles Cavileer

Source:  State Historical Society of North Dakota
[Click to enlarge...]

THE OLD-TIME POST OFFICE AT PEMBINA
By Charles Cavileer

Cavileer

I came here (Pembina) in 1851, in company with N.W. Kittson and others. After being here a few days Mr. Kittson asked me to act as assistant postmaster, he having been appointed postmaster some time in 1849. Joseph R. Brown was contractor to carry the mail from Pembina, Wisconsin Territory¹, to Crow Wing in the same territory, via Thieving River, at its mouth at Red Lake River, thence by land and canoe to Red Lake Village, making short portages, thence making short portages between small lakes to Cass Lake and then by the same order of travel to Leach Lake and so on to Crow Lake and to the end of the route at Crow Wing Village, which was the headquarters of the North-West Fur Company for all that section of the country claimed by the Chippewas from Crow Wing to Pembina northwest and northeast to Sandy Lake, and Fond du Lac.

The contract was a go-as-you-please, on foot, horse back, cart or canoe, anyway-to-get-there affair. The contract price for carrying it was $1,100 a year. Kittson, being postmaster, could not act as sub-agent. He appointed me as assistant postmaster, and I ran the machine until some time in 1853 or '54. I did all the business of the office, made the quarterly returns and deposit of funds due the department, attending to every detail of the office, which at that time was no child's play as every letter and package had to be tied up in wrappers, waybilled and addressed to its destination. St. Paul packages contained nearly all of Minnesota, Chicago, Detroit and east and west exchange.

An example of an 1868 letter with U.S. postage
sent from Red River to St. Paul via Pembina.
Source: The Minnesota Territory in Postmarks

Letter rates of postage ran 6 1/4, 12 1/2, 18 3/4, to 25 cents, according to distance, from 6 1/4 for short distances to 25 for 500 miles and over. Every letter and package had to be wrapped and addressed. Even single letters had to be wrapped and addressed to their proper offices. All wrappers had to be saved and used as long as they would hold together and an address could be put on without showing another.

But when it came to making out the quarterly reports the dance had just commenced. Every letter received and dispatched must be returned from the records kept on bills for that purpose, and it made a package about the size of a family Bible, and the footing up of columns with the amounts running from 6 1/4, 12 1/2, 18 3/4 to 25, was a corker. And right here let me tell you, with a feeling of pride, that I never had a quarterly return come back to me for correction.

Let me give you a sketch of the business at that early day, and the hardships and tricks of some of our carriers.

March 1941 Blizzard Revisited

Coverage of 1941 Blizzard in Minnesota & North Dakota
[WILMINGTON MORNING STAR, North Carolina, March 17, 1941]

Last year I wrote about the 'Ides of March' blizzard of 1941, sharing a story that a reader of this blog sent me of his memories of that event.

Now, in the course of my new job, a patron shared with me that a book had been written about the blizzard.  In the book, there are several references to local/regional stories of people touched by that storm, including the following two stories...

BORDERTOWNS: Chapter 10

On New Year's Day Ian and Pete left St. Vincent, headed east across the ridge country toward the cabin of Henry Germaine. Ian had information that Germaine had a large cache of furs on hand. Pete was riding one of Ian's mules and was leading a second animal that carried their gear. They found the Métis' log cabin practically on the border, nestled on the south edge of heavy timber.

That night Ian examined and purchased a large number of beaver and mink pelts which had supposedly been trapped along the Two Rivers. Their host produced a sizeable jug of Hudson's Bay rum, prompting Ian to suspect the furs he was purchasing came from the Canadian side of the line. He queried Germaine, "Henry, you can't fool me. Your furs all came from across the border, probably caught along the Roseau and Rat Rivers."

Germaine belched prodigiously, and then laughed, exposing a small mouth concealed beneath a huge beard. "No matter where they from. They are here now." He thumped the table with his fist. "Damned Hudson's Bay, they want all furs but won't give anything for them, hardly no hard cash, want to give only trade goods!"

Ian exchanged a glance with Pete, who was already well into his cups. His hired man remarked judiciously, "Like he say, no matter now."

They slept on the floor of Germaine's cabin that night and awoke in the morning to find a strong northwest wind with new-falling snow. The mush Germaine fried for their breakfast was scorched, adding much to the foul odor of the cabin. A near whiteout storm was whipping up, forcing the two men to hurriedly pack up their furs and saddle-up. Ian was tempted to wait for the wind to diminish, but the thought of spending another day penned up in Henry's cabin was distasteful. While saddling the horses and putting the packs on the mule, Ian glanced out of the open-sided lean-to at the blowing snow. "It's going to be a humdinger, Pete."

Pete looked toward the west as he tightened the hitch on the mule's pack. He had a wry look on his face. "Long, cold ride home."

It was full daylight at 8:00 a.m. when they rode into the fine sifting snow, which was driven by an ever-increasing wind. Ian was forced to tighten his scarf around his high collar to prevent the snow from melting and running down his neck. After two hours on the trail he wished they had remained at Germaine's. Pete was morose and silent, evidently suffering from his over-indulgence of the previous evening.

Several times Ian surreptitiously consulted his pocket compass to reassure himself that they were headed directly west, primarily due to the fact that at times the visibility was zero. He was careful to hide his action from Pete, not wanting to show he distrusted his guide.

Near mid morning, just as they were paralleling a heavy poplar thicket on their right, the animals began to act up nervously, and then stopped. Seconds later, the two men became aware of a rumbling sound to their front. Suddenly a large group of trotting horses loomed out of the near white-out, almost colliding with them. The hard-pressed herd passed on either side of them, and momentarily they caught a brief glimpse of the two hunched figures. As they turned to watch the departing animals, they noted the herders swinging them to the north, into the bush.

Pete pulled his mule close and shouted to Ian. "Maybe twenty-thirty horse and mules. Something wrong!"

"Yes!" Ian yelled. "Did you recognize the herders?" Pete raised his hand to his mouth to deflect the strong wind. "No! Too quick!"

During the next two hours of cold, plodding travel into the angling wind, Ian puzzled over the incident. Who in his right mind would pick this day to drive horses any distance? Then a suspicion grew in his mind. Could they be stolen? Shucks! Can't be! The large number of animals precluded theft, he reasoned; even at the Pembina fort he doubted there were that many horses or mules. Still a reeling of mystery remained that he was unable to shake.

When they crossed the open sand ridge area at noon, the drifting snow thinned due to the predominance of high grass. There, coming directly toward them was a large group of horsemen. Ian noted those in the lead were soldiers; then he recognized Kirby Ralston. It was apparent the lieutenant was in command of the troops. Within moments Ian and Pete found themselves surrounded by an obviously hostile group of men. Fortunately, Kirby recognized Ian.

"What is hell are you doing out in this blizzard?" Kirby's scarf was encrusted with frost and his horse was breathing heavily, casting streams of vapor. He looked tense, almost angry.

"Are you looking for horses?" Ian suddenly realized his first suspicions were correct.

"Hell, yes, almost the entire herd from the fort. We've been following their tracks east, but we've lost them in this snow. How did you know?"

Ian became aware that several of the group were civilians from Pembina. Then he recognized Brogan and several other disreputable men.

He pointed to them. "Where did you get that crew?"

Kirby sounded disgusted. "I'm after the fort horses. This town bunch joined us after we crossed the river. They claim they lost some horses in Pembina. They aren't under my command, but, by golly, they better obey me!"

Brogan blustered, "We just came along to help." He pointed to Ian and Pete accusingly, "You'd better check that pair, Lieutenant. They're probably the thieves -- got the horses hidden away somewhere."

Ian ignored Brogan's remark. "A couple of hours ago we saw a bunch of horse -- maybe thirty. They swung north into the bush after passing by us. There were two men herding them."

"Will you backtrack and show us where they turned off?”

"Sure thing. Only trouble is, it's been blowing so hard our tracks may already be covered over." He turned to Pete. "Do you think we can find that bush where they turned?"

Pete nodded. "Sure thing! We find, and tracks still be plain in bush."

Some of the civilians crowded closely to Ian and Kirby, anxious to hear what was being said. Others were restless and began arguing. One burly, heavily bearded teamster, Eck Murphy, growled, "They cleaned out the fort corral last night after the storm blew up. We borrowed most of these horses in Pembina and St. Vincent for the chase."

Kirby questioned Pete, "You think we can catch them before they cross the border?"

Pete shrugged his shoulders questioningly, "Maybe."

A teamster spoke up angrily, "Border, hell! Maybe you soldiers can't cross it, but, by God, the rest of us can! And will! We're going to hang those bastards!"

Kirby shot back, "We're going to take them back alive if we can. Any of you with other ideas can head back home." He turned to Ian. "You ready?"

"Sure! I have my Winchester, but Pete is unarmed."

"I come too!" Pete looked around at the hard-looking group. "Lots of guns here, maybe too damn many."

Kirby turned to his men and motioned with his arm; the noise of the wind almost totally smothered his shouted command. The troopers fell into line behind him, forming a column of two's as their horses broke into a trot. The non-military men straggled behind.

The drifting snow was rapidly filling Ian and Pete's old tracks, leaving them barely discernible. It was nearly two hours later when the bush suddenly loomed up as a dark wall. Pete, who was riding beside Ian, shouted to Kirby.

Turning his horse alongside Ian, Kirby asked, "What's he want?"

A hurried conversation took place between Ian and Pete with a puzzled Kirby trying to make out Pete's broken shouting over the gusty wind noise.

Ian turned to Kirby. "He says for half of us to check along the edge of the bush for tracks where the thieves entered, then follow them slowly. The rest should swing around to the north of this bush, then spread out to cut them off on the other side. He says this is a big bush, maybe two or three miles across.

Kirby eyed the breed for moments, realizing the wisdom of his advice. "I'll take my men around to the north edge to cover it. I just hope they've stopped to rest; if they haven't, they're in Canada by now."

He turned to Murphy, one of the recently hired teamsters from the fort. "Take the fort workers and the Pembina men and find where they entered the scrub. Push them toward us if they're still in there, but give me plenty of time to get my men into place. Remember," he warned, "I want those men alive -- not dead!" From the scornful looks on the men's faces, Kirby felt a moment of distrust. He knew the teamsters and the civilians present possibly represented the dregs of the fort and the trash of the two towns. Still, he felt that his men would make the capture; surely the thieves would run from this pursuing bunch.

Turning away, Kirby and his platoon quickly broke away from the group and headed north along the west edge of the bush. Ian felt disappointed at not being asked to accompany Kirby, inasmuch as he had qualms about being left with this unsavory lot.

Minutes later, shouts indicated that one of the men had found where the stolen horses had been turned into the trees. Entering the thicket, and finally out of the wind, the men dismounted to give the soldiers time to get into position. As the bitter cold began to penetrate their clothing, the men began their drive. They were forced to lead the horses, each individual picking his own way through the tangle of deadfalls and heavy brush.

Ian estimated they had penetrated only one-half mile when the acrid odor of smoke became noticeable. Gathering together, the group discussed the possibilities of capturing the two men.

"They stop to rest," said Pete, "Build fire to eat and warm. Maybe spend the night."

Eck Murphy turned to his friends. "We'll split up and surround them. Three of us can move in on either side of them. The rest of you spread out in a line, keeping abreast. Push straight into them, but be damned careful to give us plenty of time to pen them up." He grinned, "Ralston isn't going to take this pair back to the fort if we get them!"

Ian's temper rose when he realized the men had no intention of taking the thieves alive. "You heard what the Lieutenant said, leave those men to the law if we find them. If you kill them, we'll all be in trouble."

The civilian posse exchanged sly grins. Brogan spoke up menacingly, "You keep your mouth shut, sonny! If you're not man enough to go along with us, take your breed and get the hell out of here! We don't need your advice." Under his black beard Brogan's lips curled in derision.

Ian noted the sudden look of hatred Pete gave Brogan. Having worked with Pete the past two months, he knew his hired man hated to be called a breed. He also knew Pete might be a dangerous man when crossed. To prevent an immediate confrontation, he said resignedly, "Well, we'll ride along with you, but remember, if anything untoward happens, it'll be on your heads."

Several of the men gave Ian a disgusted look. Brogan expressed his further contempt by spitting a stream of tobacco juice in Ian's direction before turning away. The men began tethering their horses to the trees around them, ignoring Ian and Pete, who obviously were not in accord with the plan.

The remaining men waited until after Eck Murphy's two flanking groups disappeared from sight. After a few minutes the penetrating cold forced the men into action. Spreading out abreast, yards apart, they began their silent drive.

Ian was hesitant to follow closely and consulted with Pete. "I wonder what will happen. Should we follow them?"

There was a stolid look on his helper's face as he nodded, and then began leading the two mules in the direction of the disappearing men.

Suddenly three rapid shots were heard some distance to their front, the signal of a rendezvous call. They could hear the crashing of brush ahead of them as the posse hurried to respond to the firing.

Following existing paths taken by the hunters, Ian and Pete caught up with the pursuers within minutes and found the men they had been following had rejoined Murphy's teamsters. The group was standing around a small fire, laughing and shouting boisterously, jeering at their two captives who had been caught in their sleeping robes. Two men were already preparing coffee at the small fire, the ingredients and pot probably garnered from the supplies carried by the thieves. Two saddled horses were tied to nearby trees. Near them other animals were standing, heads hanging with fatigue. Examining the captives closely as they lay on the ground, Ian could see the looks of despair on their faces.

Murphy's voice suddenly rang out over the clamor of conversation. "Let's get at it!"

Roughly rousting the two to their feet, the men of the posse quickly tied their hands behind their backs and hustled them under a tree. Two ropes were produced, slipknots tied, and nooses placed around the culprits' necks. Ian was forced to admire the courage of the two thieves, since neither uttered a word of protest. It seemed they accepted their obvious fate. Remembering Kirby's admonition, Ian stepped forward to protest the hanging, only to have Pete seize his arm.

"Stay, Ian. We can do nothing!"

Ian turned toward Pete and saw the drawn face and expression of disgust. In a low voice he asked, "Do you know the two men?"

"They live in the Hair Hills to the west. They are thieves." Pete looked angry. "Even so, not to hang them!"

A brief argument ensued among the men, one townsman insisting a proper hangman's knot be tied. Brogan countered, "What the hell? What's wrong with a slip knot? We're just stringing up these bastards."

Another brief argument began, some insisting they mount the prisoners on horseback. Someone else squelched that argument by throwing the end of one rope over a high out-jutting limb. The other rope end followed within seconds.

It was Murphy's voice that again rang out, "Grab the ends and hoist!" Gasping, choking sounds were heard as the ropes tightened and cut into the necks of the prisoners; they were mercilessly hoisted into the air, the rope ends tied off.

Ian felt bitter bile crawl into his mouth and the sour taste of it as the two victims jerked, kicked and twisted, slowly strangling. Many of the group laughed and joked as they watched the sickening sight; others were silent, almost as if regretting their participation.

The conversation ceased when the sound of approaching men and horses was heard from the north. Kirby and his men had heard the gunshots.

Emerging from the heavy poplar thicket into the small clearing, the lieutenant brushed the snow from his shoulders. Then he noticed the two victims. Boldly walking near the hanging men, he studied their faces. After pausing for long moments, he suddenly turned to face the civilians.

"You sons-of-bitches! Just couldn't wait, could you? I'll probably be blamed for this. He demanded vehemently, “Who’s idea was this?”

Brogan spoke up defiantly, "Shucks, just looks like two suicides to me."

Some of the guilty men pretended disinterest, turning their backs, as if busy at other things. Others were scornful, obviously siding with Brogan. Murphy interjected saucily, "Must be suicides, Lieutenant.

Kirby cast a scornful glance at the guilty men, finally turning to his platoon. "Gather up all the stolen horses and mules. We're going back to the fort tonight."

The fort soldiers approached a few of the animals to attach lead ropes in preparation for the move back to the fort. Kirby noted that Ian and Pete were standing well away from the main group of men, easing his fear that they had been involved. Addressing Ian, he said, "You two want to ride back with me?'

"You bet!" Ian felt relieved, glad to avoid any further unpleasantness.

"Wait a minute, Lieutenant. We'll all ride along with you." Brogan's voice carried a pleading tone.

"Like hell you will! I'm taking all of the stolen animals back to the fort; you can get back on your own." He pointed to the hanging bodies. "Murphy, you and the other fort teamsters pack those two bodies back to Dr. Appel's dispensary. They'll have to be accounted for."

"How about the Pembina and St. Vincent horses?" demanded Brogan. "You can't take them!"

"I can take them, and will!" Kirby replied caustically, "I doubt you men own any of them." He glared at the civilians contemptuously, "If I ever see you-all again, it will be too soon to suit me!"

When they left the woods, the wind had died; the crunching steps of the horses and creaking leather of the saddles were the only sounds. Darkness was already over-spreading the sky. The soldiers were cold, hungry and quiet.

It was long after dark when they arrived at St. Vincent, where Kirby halted the patrol briefly. Turning his horse toward Ian, he spoke in a soft voice. "Ian, will you come out to the fort in the morning and give Captain Collins your version of the hanging?" He continued speaking quietly so his men could not overhear. "I'll probably be blamed for the deaths of those two men, and in a way it was my fault. I shouldn't have trusted that bunch."

Ian nodded in agreement. "Sure, I'll come if it will help you." He added ruefully, "It's going to be mighty hard to get up in the morning. Judas! I'm cold and tired."

Breaking away from the line of troops as they resumed their way to the fort, Pete suggested, "You stay with me tonight. No sense going to Emerson, then to fort in morning."

Ian felt grateful for the offer, but apprehensive at being invited to spend the night at Grant's house. Then he thought of Susan's surprise at finding him there in the morning. An involuntary smile came as he said, "Good idea!" He turned his horse to follow Pete toward Grant's log barn near the edge of the road.

While he tended to the animals in the barn, Pete stored the purchased furs in the woodshed adjoining the house. Finally they entered the kitchen where Pete removed his heavy mittens to light a lamp. Within moments Annette appeared, dressed in a dark robe. She immediately began to converse with Pete in the Cree language. For moments Ian was totally ignored; Pete was evidently relating the happenings to her.

Ian gradually felt the pleasant warmth dissipating the long cold. He could feel his cheeks begin to burn, the numbness leaving his toes, causing them to ache. A lethargic feeling began to creep over him.

Annette finally turned to him. "Ian, I'll make coffee and fry eggs and pork. You men must be starved. Pete says neither of you has eaten since early morning. It's too late for you to go home. You can bunk with Pete." She stopped her bustling by the stove. Breaking into a smile, she pointed at Pete, saying, "If you can stand his snoring."

Ian found himself glancing at the stairs as he ate, all the while hoping Susan would awaken and join them. Evidently the remaining members of the family were sound sleepers for no one appeared.

The sound of wood being fed to the stove and the rattle of utensils awoke Ian the next morning. He became aware of the tantalizing odor of bannock being fried, and could tell oatmeal had been added to the flour and bacon fat. Swinging his legs to obtain a sitting position on the edge of the bed, he glanced at Pete, who appeared to be alternately snoring and gasping for breath. The quivering and vibrating of his lips as he exhaled brought a smile to Ian's face. Thinking he had overslept, he hurriedly dressed and entered the kitchen to find Annette cracking eggs into a frying pan. Marguerite, who was setting the table, turned to smile at him.

Grinning back guiltily, he tugged out his pocket watch to discover it was early, only a bit past six. Casting a glance out the window he noted it was still dark.

"The light of your life is primping for you," Marguerite teased. "If she'd known you stayed here last night, she'd have been the first in the kitchen this morning." Her manner then changed to a serious tone, "Mother told me about you and Pete helping the Army chase those horse thieves, and of the soldiers hanging them. I can't believe the men at the fort would do such a thing. They've always seemed so kind and polite."

"It wasn't the soldiers; they weren't the guilty ones. The dirty work was done by the fort teamsters and riff-raff from the local saloons." While he explained the details to Marguerite, Susan entered the kitchen and moved behind his chair. Her hand slipped to the back of his neck and he looked up at her longingly. Her long, shiny black hair was slowly slipping from behind one shoulder, gradually covering the side of her face as she smiled down at him.

"This is the first time you've seen her this early in the morning. She isn't always this neat." Marguerite was being mischievous.

Susan scrunched up her face at her sister. "How about you? Did you pretty-up for Ian?"

Marguerite shrugged her shoulders, raising her hand to regally smooth back her long hair. "Well, I didn't want to scare him to death. He might never come back."

Ian smiled as he turned to encircle Susan's waist with his arm. "No fear about that!"

The hinges of the bedroom door adjoining the kitchen squealed as Pete entered the room. He sat down heavily at the table, his face drawn with weariness. His hair was uncombed and his wool shirt only partially fastened, disclosing an expanse of grey wool underwear. He looked slowly around the room. Appraising the girls carefully, he turned to address Annette. "Woman, You're still the best- looking female in the house!"

The girls exchanged quick glances at this outburst, and Annette turned her face to the stove to hide her embarrassment. Ian detected, as Susan had previously implied, that there was more to their liaison than met the eye. He was glad Grant was still abed, remembering the man's sudden show of anger when Pete addressed Susan as daughter on Christmas day. Still, glancing at the faces of the two girls, he could detect no rancor.

After breakfast when Ian mentioned that Kirby had requested he go to the fort, Susan smiled. "Then you can give me a ride to Pembina. I have beds to make and rooms to clean at Geroux's hotel before school starts."

"You ride to Pembina with Ian, and I walk. That darned Charley has never given me a ride on his horse. Sometimes it seems he's ashamed of me." Marguerite seemed irritated.

Ian remained silent for he knew little of Sheriff Brown's personal life. Rather than remain for what might develop into involved talk, he went to the barn to saddle his horse. When Susan appeared, he held out his hand to ease her mount onto the horse. To his surprise she swung into the saddle instead, revealing the fact that she wore a long split skirt. She smiled down at him and reached for the reins. Shaking his head in feigned anger, he mounted behind her and kneed the horse into action. At Geroux's hotel she lightly slipped from the saddle and turned to him. "I'll be back here after school is out. I have to set the supper tables; but I'll be done before six. Will I see you again today?" There was a wistful look on her face.

"I'll see you then, and carry you home."

She smiled up at him as she turned to the hotel steps.

Reader Memories: Blizzard of 1941

I heard once again from Ernest Gunerius this morning. Ernest shares that he first sent this story to the online list BUFFALO-HUNTERS-L@rootsweb.com; it concerns the infamous blizzard of 1941, which he experienced first-hand. Here are his memories, and amazing they are...

While waiting for inspiration to answer Marilyn's questions on Clergy and the Social scene in 1850's North Dakota, I thought I would comment on Weather in that region both historically and my personal experiences. This little story will also have elements in it that touch a little on some of her other questions, such as the ethnic heritage of the people that immigrated to the Red River Valley and the type of people they were. At least to show the mettle of the people in 1940. The men that enlisted in the armed forces from Pembina on December 8, 1941.

In Pembina, while still a resident, there was a saying : The only thing that can be said for sure about Pembina weather is: "It never snows in August". Once, in the late 1930's, I saw it snow during the Baseball game at the Pembina Ball Park on the Fourth of July.

The great Blizzard of 1888, while not the first recorded, was the most disastrous recorded. 400 lives were lost and uncounted cattle and other animals. I would suppose the Buffalo survived well. I have seen it claimed that cattle from North Dakota, drifting with the north wind were eventually shipped home from Texas where they stopped. That may be an exaggeration.

Saturday, March 15, 1941 began as a normal morning. I recall the sparrows in the ivy on the north wall of the house to the right of the door off the porch (on the old Wardwell house) were making their normal annoying, loud, twittering. The sky was generally clear. Around four in the afternoon, I noticed that the sparrows were silent. Looking to the west out the bay window on the south wall of the kitchen, I could see, on the horizon a faint black cloud.

My sister and I were planning to go to the movie that evening. The movie was shown in the auditorium of the City Hall. Which was one and a half blocks north and across the street on that block that was "kitty corner" from our block.

When we left for the movie the black cloud had moved much closer to town, but my sister was fifteen and I was twelve and we had no worry. The movie was over around 10 PM. However as the lights came on someone, probably the town Marshall, announced that no one was to leave the hall as there was a really bad Blizzard raging outside.

The adult men present organized our exit by alternating adults and children as a chain all holding hands, actually I was not so much holding hands as being held by two adults at either hand. With one of the "Iron Men", possibly George Renville, leading the way we went out, down the long straight staircase that led down to the sidewalk. I was almost immediately disoriented.

I sort of realized we had turned left and then left again and were moving south , but could see nothing , not even the person leading or following, or for that matter, my own hands. I had to keep my eyes shut because if they were open they soon filled with icy snow. The visibility was such that I could not see my hands held six inches from my face.

The chain of people was led south to the corner, then left to the middle of the block to Mrs. Cassidy's restaurant which was open. At this point my sister and I were about 300 feet from our house. We were not allowed to go home by ourselves. We waited till about Midnight when there was a lull in the storm and a group of men led us and some of our friends that lived in that direction to our homes. At that time it was still snowing hard, but the wind had died a little.

In the morning my father woke me to tell me he had a chore for me. And it was to dig a way out of the house through the porch door. The porch was glassed in all round the two open sides and snow covered all windows. Fortunately, probably by design, the door opened in. When opened, a solid hard packed wall of snow appeared.

I tunnelled up, making steps, as I reached the surface, I was treated to a most wondrous sight. All that was visible in the whole town as far as I could see was the roofs of the two story houses and nothing of the single story dwellings. The eaves of our house were about 16 feet from the ground, maybe a little more. I was standing even with the roof on the hard snow. The snow was hard packed and I could walk on it. In the center of the street the snow rose to 20 feet.

My friend Bill Borg (he with the Buffalo skin coat) called me to ask if I would take his Sunday paper delivery. I recall telling him I would lend him my skis so he could deliver his own papers. The train could not get to Pembina that morning so there were no papers to deliver and it wasn't a problem.

Snow removal in the city was a major project. The entire city was buried so the snow had to be loaded on trucks and carried out of town. The crews started from some where out side of town where the snow cover was thin on the highway and plowed to the point where it was necessary to start loading. The clearing as I remember took more than a week.

The Northern Pacific Railroad sent an Engine from Grand Forks to force a way through the snow drifts and to clear the tracks. This engine found a grim and most heartbreaking and sad reminder of the deadly force of the winter blizzards.

Katherine(21 yrs) and Florence(14 yrs) daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Mike Howry of Pembina had attempted to walk into town to help their mother, Mrs. Mike Howry, who was working at Mrs. Cassidy's Cafe, walk home from work.

The girls lost their way in the storm and turned south on the tracks and were apparently frozen to death on the tracks. Their bodies were picked up by the "cowcatcher" on the engine and were discovered when the engine arrived at the depot.

Myself and a few of my friends attended the funeral because their younger brother Frank was our friend. The funeral was to my young years most impressive and solemn. It was held in the old Ukrainian Church in South Pembina. I remember being very impressed and moved by the service and especially by the deep bass voices of the choir who were fathers of my other friends in town, now seen in another light. Because it was spoken and sung in the Ukranian language it added to the mysterious quality.

In the blizzard of 1941, 72 were known dead by Friday March 21. Many people were forced to spend the night in their cars away from home.

During the winter of 1888 and prior to that there were storms of equal or greater fury. I don't know of any record of those storms. I can only assume that the hardship was greater. Later as inspiration urges, we can consider the clothing worn by the early "First People", Metis and settlers.

Bordertowns: Chapter 7

Mary's stratagem of taking off with Robert did not escape Maggy's notice. She smiled to herself when she remembered long years ago how she furtively slipped out of her father's house to meet Pat. She would never forget how her father had railed and shouted invectives at her when he found they had secretly married.

Robert and Mary's brief trip ended at the hotel dining room due to the intense cold. Here, Robert was introduced to the girl he had met that afternoon.

"Robert, this is my chum, Annie Gillis."

Annie's eyes sparkled. "I've already met your beau. In fact, I gave him directions to your house." She turned to Robert jokingly, "Mary and I aren't the socially elite; we're the poor of the poorest girls of Emerson. We have to work for a living."

Robert felt at ease; this girl was down to earth. “I can't see anything wrong with that. Where I come from, most unmarried girls help support their families. They must, shucks, most of the families are large."

Mary broke in. "Annie, can you spare the time to sit with us?"

"Sure. I'd love to. This place isn't exactly overrun with customers," she added, smiling. "Anyway, Mother isn't here yet, and she's 'sposed to help me serve supper. Let's sit by the window."

After Robert and Mary had removed their coats and were seated, Annie asked, "Have you heard the horrible news from Roseau Crossing?"

"No. What happened?" Mary questioned.

"A young Indian girl was attacked and strangled to death. The word just came in at noon. It's said she was badly abused. They think a white man did it, probably one of the railroad workers who winter in the shacks out there."

Mary felt her world spinning, her stomach contracted into a knot; then her whole body seemed to convulse. She could almost feel the blood leaving her face as a sickly feeling came over her. She found it hard to breathe and to stop her body's involuntary shuddering. In desperation she grasped the edge of the table fiercely.

Robert immediately sensed she was undergoing a sudden strain of some sort and was concerned. Covering her hands with his, he asked, "What's wrong, Mary? Are you ill?"

Mary's eyes darted to Robert and she forced herself to relax. Her suppressed fear of that terrible experience at Orillia had come back, compounded by the shame she would feel if Robert ever found out about the attack. The moment seemed to demand immediate action. Rising from the chair, she said, "We'd better get home; it's nearly supper time."

Casting a quick glance toward Annie, Robert could see the puzzled look on her face. Also, it was apparent that Annie was disappointed at their leaving so soon.

During the walk back to the house, Mary remained silent. After a few steps Robert put his arm around her waist and she leaned tightly against him. He had never before seen any sign of fear in her, but there was no doubt in his mind that Annie's news had brought unfeigned terror to Mary.
Patrick and Ian were already home when the young couple arrived and both seemed pleased at Robert's visit. Maggy immediately sensed that Mary seemed unduly subdued. She wondered if the couple had had a spat. Worried, she thought, whatever the trouble is, I hope she gets over it quickly. Minutes later, when Mary slipped upstairs, Maggy followed and cornered her in the bedroom.

"Have you two been fighting?"

Mary turned, her expression tense. "Oh, no, Mother." Tearfully she repeated Annie's news.

"Holy Jesus!" Maggy exploded. "That does it! Bloody creeps around here, too!" Then she took Mary into her arms, whispering softly, "You'll have to get a grip on yourself. It's not the end of the world. They'll find and punish that man.

Stepping back, she added, "Now, put it from your mind. Robert seems a capable man and he's worried about you. Why, even the boys can see things aren't right. Go downstairs now, and smile a lot."

Leading the way down the steps, she turned. "Let's get the table set and the men fed. I've made two apple pies for desert. Perhaps you can whip some of yesterday's cream for a topping. It's in the porch and shouldn't be sour yet."

Ian entertained them during supper with stories of his fur buying. At the mention of Susan Grant, Maggy and Patrick exchanged glances. Word of mouth had reached Maggy of Grant's two daughters and she knew the girls were Métis. She hoped the association would not hurt Ian, because mixed marriages were frowned upon by the gentry. Pat had expressed no opinion on the subject when she had brought it up, except to say, "I'd rather see love without marriage than marriage without love."

After eating the apple pie Robert hoped he didn't sound patronizing when he said, "I haven't felt this stuffed since leaving home. Why, even in the city of Winnipeg the meat is either boiled or fried to a crisp. This supper takes me back to my Mother's cooking."

Patrick wiped his lips, and then said slyly, "You should visit us more often, Robert. Maggy doesn't put herself out like this every day."

"Oh, Pat, shame!" Maggy tried to look modest, but her pride was evident.

While helping clear the table, Jerold brought up the subject of the next day.

"It'll be Christmas Eve tomorrow night, and I suppose you old folks will want to sleep all afternoon in preparation for the dance. But how about getting the horses out after breakfast and doing some skiing?"

Ian spoke up, "Sure would be fun, but dad has promised to go to Pembina with me. There's some land just west of town that's up for sale. Why don't you and Mike pull Mary and Robert on the skis?" He looked to his father. "We can team up a pair of the mules for the sleigh, can't we? I wouldn't trust the mules to pull skiers."

Jerold snorted. "Just try to tie a rope on Cain or Abel’s tail. Either would kick the heck out of you."

At breakfast the next morning Mary seemed recovered from her shock. She eagerly awaited Robert's arrival from the hotel. Keeping a watch from the kitchen, she saw him approach the house, then bypass it, going directly to the barn to assist Jerold who was forking hay into a bunk.
Early in the fall Patrick and Jerold had cut four narrow hardwood boards from a plank, smoothed the surfaces and steam bent one end of each into passable skis. By tying a lengthy rope to a horse's tail, the rider of the horse was able to tow a skier at a fast clip. At first Jerold and Mike rode the horses, but when the time came to change over, Mary was surprised to find Robert an accomplished horseman. He had been equally surprised that morning to find Mary wearing a pair of men's woolen trousers, also to find she rode astride, bareback, and expertly.

Helping Mary up after a fall from the skis, Robert carefully brushed the snow from her face and neck. Seizing the moment to plant a kiss on her nose, he asked, "Wherever did you learn to ride a horse?"

"Oh,Robert! How could I not learn to ride? I've had to put up with three brothers." She laughed merrily. "Why we've always had horses."

While Mike circled back with the horse to bring the rope end once again to her, Robert helped her to her feet. "You know, you're the first woman I've seen wearing trousers. You look kind of cute in them!"

During the morning's fun the wind had whipped loose long, glossy strands of Mary's hair, forcing her to stop frequently to retuck them under her toque. Robert found himself hard pressed to keep his distance. By noon all were exhausted and ravenously hungry. Amid joshing and laughter, they decided they were ready for dinner. Removing the ropes from the horses and coiling them over their shoulders, Jerold and Mike rode the animals back to the barn, leaving Robert and Mary to walk the last quarter mile. Putting his arm around Mary's waist, Robert mentioned his plan for the evening. "I stopped at Vance's livery after breakfast and reserved s sleigh for tonight. Lucky I did. Gosh, it was the last rig available. It seems quite a few people from Emerson are going to the fort ball."

Mary voiced her concern. "I don't know Kirby's plans, but he said he'd be here at seven this evening. I suppose he'll get a rig from the teamsters at the fort." She looked up at Robert. "It would only be fair for the three of us to ride together. Father and Mother could take the other sleigh. Would you mind?"

Robert felt secure in his relationship with Mary. "Yup, that's fair. I'll be at your house by seven; are you sure your folks are coming along?"

"Yes, Mother has made a new dress for the occasion. It's going to break her heart not being able to dance, but she'll enjoy the music and the people. She doesn't know many of the townspeople as I do. Teaching at the school has enabled me to meet many of the parents." She added reflectively, "A few are comparatively wealthy, but most are like us, just trying to get ahead." She ceased walking and gave him an impish grin. "Should I wash my face with snow to look more respectful?"

They suddenly clasped to kiss one another in a frenzied passion, letting go only after long moments.

"Maybe we'd better wash both our faces with snow." Robert studied her face soberly. They both broke into laughter. Turning away, she grasped his hand, forcing him into a run for the back door.

Robert and Kirby arrived almost simultaneously that evening, in time to catch Ian in the act of clearing the supper dishes from the table. The two actually appeared to like one another after they were introduced.

Ian smiled, "Jerold's turn at the dishes. He's stuck. I'm the entertainment until Mother and Mary come downstairs."

He noted that Kirby was wearing his dress uniform of blues with shoulder boards, while Robert was wearing a dark woolen suit with an ornate cravat. They made small talk until Patrick descended the stairs. He was fashionably dressed in a new wool Cheviot suit with a high collar and black tie. He had purchased the suit at Maggy's insistence, regretting the five dollars it had cost.

When the women were heard descending the stairs, the men arose in anticipation. Mary preceded Maggy, and for seconds Robert and Kirby seemed mesmerized. Smiling as she descended, Mary carefully held up the hem of her dress, and Robert quickly stepped forward to grasp her hand.

"You look gorgeous, Mary!" Then he looked up to Maggy, who followed. "You also, Mrs. McLaren!"

Kirby was spellbound for seconds, and then he stepped forward to take Mary's other hand, exclaiming, "You'll both be belles of the ball. We'll scarcely get to dance with either of you. We'd better fill your dance cards now!"

Maggy interrupted. "I'll not be dancing. I'll be sitting on the sideline watching you youngsters. Pat, I'll be watching you, too. Try to remember that you're married to me."

He bowed mockingly. "Yes, my dear." Turning to the others, he lamented, "It seems I have my orders."

Mary felt relieved. Obviously Robert and Kirby were not shocked by her dress as her father and mother had been when she first tried it on for their approval. It had been Ian and Jerold's comments that stilled her parents' objections. They were thrilled to see their sister dressed as an adult, a beautiful woman, and made no bones about it. After a time both Patrick and Maggy acknowledged her maturity and agreed that the dress did set off her loveliness.

Handing the borrowed pearl necklace to Robert, Mary turned her back to him. After the necklace was secure she took a sweater from her mother's hands and passed it to Kirby. She smiled as she faced him. "Will you try to get it over my head without mussing my hair?"

Stretching the neck of the sweater as widely as possible, Kirby slid it over her head and shoulders, smoothing it to her waist. He found it difficult to avoid lingering over the gleaming black ponytail that spread over her shoulders, falling to her waist. As it was, he was finally forced to ease her hair from under the sweater. He had never seen anything as alluring.

Robert interjected, "We've each brought a sleigh. Who rides with whom?"

"Let Pat drive your cutter," said Maggy. "I'll ride with him. You three ride together." Maggy knew of Mary's plan.

Mary smiled at her escorts. "If you are both so anxious to dance with me, you can match to see who gets the first dance. You two will probably be my only partners tonight, except for Father."

Kirby gallantly countered, "If I could only believe that!"

Within minutes they were loaded into the sleighs, with buffalo robes covering them to the waist. With Kirby's sleigh leading, they moved on the narrow snow-packed road toward St. Vincent. The teamsters at the fort had thoughtfully added sleigh bells to Kirby's team, enhancing the happy occasion. The nearly full moon cast a magic glow, hiding all of the nearest stars except Orion in the west.

Nearing the Red River, Kirby walked the team down the hill, across the ice, and up the Dakota side. Turning southeast toward the fort, they were joined by two other sleighs from Pembina; those fell into line behind Patrick and Maggy. The ringing of the small bells was accompanied by the hissing and scraping of the sleigh runners, seemingly magnified by the intense cold. Kirby kept them amused by anecdotes about the fort until he finally drew rein at the fort hospital. A heavily dressed corporal and two other enlisted men stepped from the doorway to greet Kirby.

"We'll take over the rigs, Lieutenant. We'll put the horses in the stable. They'll be ready for you when the shindig is over."

He thanked the men while Robert helped Mary from the sleigh. Then he suggested, "Why don't you two go inside? I'll be along with your Father and Mother.” Mary noted this thoughtful act, remembering it later.

While Mary and her mother retired to the room set aside for the ladies, Kirby moved the men to the punch bowl. Turning to Robert, he said, "I'll defer Mary to you for the first dance -- you've come such a long way. But I plan on seeing a lot of her in the future."

Robert smiled at him, "Don't be too sure. Things can happen, you know."

Kirby smiled wryly, and then began introducing Patrick and Robert to his fellow officers.

Finally left alone, Patrick appraised the dancing area of the long hospital barracks in the adjoining room. It had been cleared of cots and, even now, the orchestra was grouping their music stands and chairs at one end. He judged there were already at least fifty people present in the larger room, a preponderance of men, most gathered around the punch bowl. Many of the ladies were still in the so-called powder room.

Three massive wood stoves heated the two rooms set aside for the soiree, and the light came from wall-mounted kerosene reflector lamps spaced evenly along the sides. Patrick noted additional lamps had been hung centrally to augment the lighting. Numerous chairs and makeshift benches had been placed along the walls, and the room was decorated with colored bunting.

Mary was apprehensive when she entered the dressing room reserved for the ladies. She found it crowded with chattering women engaged in changing clothes or putting final touches to their faces or coiffures. Her fears faded after Maggy helped her remove her coat and sweater. In a twinkling she was the center of attention. Compliments came thick and fast. One elderly woman graciously reached out to touch her shoulder and tease. "Dear girl, please leave a few of the young blades for we old hens."

Using a wide yellow ribbon, Maggy bunched Mary's hair upright, then combed it back over her shoulders. The glossy mane extended nearly to her waist. When her daughter stood, Maggy noted envious glances from the younger set.

Mary was unaware that other girls took offense because of her natural charm. Many older women resented her youth and beauty, even though she was less socially advantaged than they. Without realizing it at the time, they felt awed and envious. They wanted to feel sorry for this poor Irish-Scots girl, but how could they? She possessed every quality they themselves desired.

Mary sucked in a deep breath as she and her mother entered the ballroom together. Although nervous, she felt like a queen about to make an entrance. Her dress of shimmering yellow silk was seductive, cut low in the bosom, tapering snugly to a slender waistline, then hugging her buttocks and thighs. From the knees the circular skirt fell until the full hemline brushed the floor, occasionally covering the tips of her yellow silk slippers. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders with the tight silk topknot decorated on each side with Maggy's jeweled combs. The short double row of pearls hung over her amply displayed bosom; her arms were covered to the elbows with matching silk yellow gloves.

For seconds there was a total silence, causing her to blush with embarrassment. Then Kirby, shaken, finally said, "Robert, why don't you get everyone a cocktail while I round up some chairs for us?" He turned to Patrick and Maggy. "Please help yourselves to the hors d'oeuvres."

As several of the younger men began to gather around Mary, both Kirby and Robert hurried to her side as if to ward off competition. Taking Mary's hand, Robert advised, "Kirby has allowed me the first dance. We can share your card."

At that moment Patrick approached. Overhearing the remark, he smiled. "Since my Maggy is unable to dance this evening, I think it only fair that I have the first dance with my daughter." He bowed mockingly to Robert and Kirby. "You two can argue over the future sets." His eyes teased.

Several officers surrounded Mary, appealing for dances, but were interrupted by the approach of Kirby's commander, Captain Collins. Kirby immediately introduced Mary and Robert to the captain, who, after the introduction, seemed only interested in Mary. "My dear, I'm afraid we didn't expect anyone as exotic or beautiful as you to grace our ball." Turning to Kirby, he said sternly, "Lieutenant, you've been holding out on us. Wherever did you find this lovely lass?"

Mary felt free to speak. "I'm from Emerson, Sir, but my family will be moving to Minnesota soon."

Seeing her father and mother close by, she beckoned to them. "Captain Collins, may I introduce my Father and Mother? This is my Mother, Maggy McLaren, and my Father, Patrick." After the men shook hands, the captain led her father and mother toward the punch bowl. Mary suddenly found herself in the midst of several clamoring men.

Confused, she turned to Kirby. "What are the dances? How many are planned for the evening?"

"Usually they'll waltz for a couple of hours, and then some sets of square dancing, then lunch. After that, the dance livens up and continues until the party breaks up."

She smiled at him. "Why don't you and Robert share the waltzes, and I'll dance the square dances with these other gentlemen?"

Kirby shot a glance at Robert, who answered, "Sounds fair to me!"

Within seconds Mary's dance card was filled, and Patrick, having seated Maggy, claimed her for the grand march.

After alternately dancing with Robert and Kirby, Mary was having mixed feelings. She loved Robert, yet she felt she owed more to Kirby than she had shown. She had accepted him as naturally as a brother, yet she knew he wanted more. Do I really know him? What if I hadn't met Robert first? Why, I might have fallen in love with him.

She enjoyed each waltz, luxuriating in Robert's closeness, for he held her tightly. She noted that he was becoming a bit indiscreet and broke his close embrace. She blamed it on the punch bowl.

Kirby's dancing was a change. He held back from her, looking down directly into her eyes, his form and rhythm perfect. He whirled her around the floor, making her almost breathless. His accomplished leading encouraged many of the couples to cease dancing to watch. Mary wondered, do they teach dancing at the military academy or has he sisters? She had never asked.

Over Kirby's shoulder she glanced at her father and mother. Her mother's dark hair had not a spot of gray and was upturned at the ears with the curls her father admired. Their smiles and looks at each other bore out their love. She knew they were enjoying the ball.

The first dance following the waltzes was a Virginia reel and the caller formed the dancers in groups of six. The following dance was a jig, and she was paired with Lieutenant Kirkpatrick, an Irisher, as accomplished at jigging as she. Their skill was applauded enthusiastically.

When the square dancing began, the music became almost wild. "Darling Nellie Grey" was called, with "Form ladies left and gents right; bow low to your partner-here we go!" Mary's cheeks became flushed and her eyes sparkled. She was almost overwhelmed with cut-in partners, nearly all of whom offered invitations to future events. She shrugged them off with smiles. The tunes were all old familiars: "Old Joe Clark," "Turkey in the Straw," "Buffalo Gal" and others.

Mary would remember this night as one of her happiest -- a night when she danced until her feet felt dead. Even among the smartly dressed and most courteous of the officers there was the strong smell of whiskey. She gave little heed, knowing most were away from their homelands and loved ones. She also knew of the so-called hog-houses¹ of Pembina and Emerson, and that some of her dance partners probably patronized those places. There was little other entertainment for the military.

After his initial dance with Mary, Patrick sat with Maggy, occasionally visiting the punch bowl to refill his cup. He suspected, rightfully, that the punch had been spiked, as the crowd seemed overly gregarious, especially the ones who hung close to the huge bowl.

Maggy had her suspicions. "Pat, no more punch for me. One cup was enough. It has something in it that almost makes me want to dance." She nudged him, "I guess it's all right for you, though. After all, it's Christmas Eve, and you can sleep in tomorrow morning."

From his chair Patrick watched his daughter flit from man to man. She was beautiful. Her dance card had been filled from the first instant she had entered the room, and now two or more men were attempting to cut out a rival.

Patrick's relationship with Maggy was as firm as ever. She was not a jealous woman and he had never given her reason to be. Their marriage was still as sparkling as it had been from the start. She was strong-willed, but thank the Lord, true blue.

He thought of the presents he had hidden in the barn. Ian should have them in the house by now. A new rocker for Maggy, a violin for Jerold, and the toboggan for Mike.

It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when the band played "After the Ball was Over." While Robert and Mary shared the final dance, Kirby slipped on his overcoat to arrange for their transportation home. During his previous dance with Mary, she had suggested, "Kirby, it seems foolish for you to take us back to Emerson. Why don't you remain here? Robert and I can crowd in with my folks."

He shook his head. "I brought you, and I'm taking you home." He smiled and looked intently into her eyes. "If I have to share with Robert, I will, but under protest!"

Walking across to the stable, he found men already hooking individual horses and teams to sleighs. Recognizing his borrowed horses inside the huge barn, he untied them and led them outside to the cutter. Backing them into place, he hooked up the neck yoke, then the traces to the doubletree. His frustration in having to sacrifice the last dance to Robert played on his conscience; he found he was talking aloud to himself while he bridled up.

One of the teamsters approached. "Who you talking to, Lieutenant?"

"The horses, I guess."

"Best you visit Rosie's in town for a girl, lest you fall in love with the horses. You sure got it bad for that filly from Emerson."

"I'm hoping she'll marry me, but I have tough competition. He's not Army, and probably makes twice the money I do." He felt abashed. Lordy, the word of my interest in Mary must be rumored about; else this man is mighty perceptive.

Noticing that Robert's rented rig was ready, he beckoned to the enlisted man who was holding the lines. The man stepped to the seat and followed Kirby's cutter to the hospital door.

It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when they arrived back in Emerson. Ian and Jerold were still up, anxious to share the excitement of the Christmas gifts. Entering the back door, Maggy exclaimed when she saw Ian and Jerold's gift of the table and six new kitchen chairs. After she hugged each boy, Patrick led her to the living room to see the rocking chair he had selected for her. Slipping off her coat, she sat cautiously in the chair to try its action. As Patrick watched apprehensively, she nodded. "It fits just right and I'm staying here until someone makes me a cup of coffee."

"I will be the one," Jerold smiled. "I'll make a big pot, enough for everyone. Hey, Ian, why don't you start handing out the presents from under the tree?"

The first present was passed to Mary who exclaimed over the silver-backed comb, brush and mirror set from her father and mother. She was thrilled over the colorful silk scarf from Ian. While Patrick went upstairs to get Ian's hidden present, Robert handed Mary a small package. Excitedly, she opened it to find a delicate bracelet of gold filigree. Slipping it on her wrist she proudly displayed it to all. "Oh, Robert, thank you. It's beautiful!"

Kirby smiled at her enthusiasm but said nothing.

Patrick returned with a long, narrow package wrapped in oiled paper. Handing it to Ian, he smiled. "It's from the entire family. Now you can provide the meat for the table."

Ian let out a low whistle when he opened the package. It was a new Winchester 44-40 repeater.

Kirby examined the gun with interest. "Ian, it's a better weapon than the 45-70 Springfields we have at the fort. Of course, it doesn't have the range, but it's faster." He added, almost apologetically, "It seems our Army is always thirty years behind the time when it comes to ordnance."

Ian smiled as he re-wrapped the gun in the oiled paper. "Thank you everyone! I don't know where the money came from, but I know it cost plenty. Now Jerold and I can hunt along the river. There are plenty of deer there."

Jerold was thrilled with his violin and handled it gingerly. "Gosh, there are even instructions with it. I hope I can learn to play it half as well as Grandpa."

"Just learn to play a jig for me." Mary laughed.

Finished with his coffee, Kirby stood to gather his coat and hat. "If I stay any longer, the team will get chilled. Hopefully, I'll get over to see you all tomorrow afternoon. Now I've got to get back in time for reveille." He glanced at the clock and grinned wryly. "Shucks, I've got almost three hours to go."

"Don't forget you're invited to supper." Maggy's decisive tone made it almost sound like a command.

Jerold and Mike were up at dawn to open more gifts, but it was almost noon before the rest of the family straggled to the breakfast table. When Maggy asked Ian his plans for the day, he was evasive, saying only that he had to go to St. Vincent. As he left the house to saddle his horse, Maggy questioned Patrick, "Did you see the look on his face?"

"That I did, Maggy. The lad's in love. He's gone to see that girl."

"Pat, she's part Indian." At Pat's reproachful glance, Maggy felt a twinge of guilt. She attempted to ease her conscience by saying, "While speaking with the women last night, it was mentioned that the two Grant girls are attending school in Pembina. It seems the professor there says they are both gifted." She added grudgingly, "Oh well, maybe it will all work out for the best." Secretly, she determined to meet the girl and judge for herself.

Shortly after the noon dishes were washed, Mary slipped on her coat and announced that she was going to the hotel to visit Annie Gillis.

A second feeling of trepidation came over Maggy – first Ian and now Mary. Instinct told her that it wasn't Annie that Mary planned to visit. She attempted to ease her mind by saying, "Come back early, and bring Robert. Supper will be at six. Kirby should be here by then."

On the way to the hotel Mary questioned her desire to see Robert. When he had held her close last evening, she felt a giddy sensation. Her thoughts were disrupted by the realization that something in her coat pocket was bumping her thigh. Removing her mitten, she discovered a tissue-wrapped object with an attached card. The card had only her name. Stopping, she removed the paper to find a small velvet case. Inside was a gold pin-on watch with her first name engraved on the back. She realized that Kirby must have slipped it into her pocket last evening while they were in the sleigh. Yes, it must have been he; he was sitting to my right. She puzzled, why didn't he just give it to me? What was his purpose in slipping it into my pocket? She felt a sudden regret when she remembered the smile on Kirby's face at her display of Robert's gift. Was it because Kirby feared his gift might be construed as too ostentatious? It was obviously an expensive watch.

Putting questions behind her, she returned the watch to her pocket as she approached the hotel. Sudden caution dictated that she draw her coat collar and scarf closely about her face as she entered the lobby. She knew she must pass several men lounging there.

Entering the narrow hallway, she stopped at Robert's door. Then a feeling of uneasiness and guilt came and she delayed knocking. Finally, gathering courage, she rapped lightly. Bed springs squeaked and Robert's voice came. "Just a moment."

When the door opened, it was apparent he had just pulled on his trousers, and from his mussed appearance it was also apparent that he had been napping. Breaking into a smile, he took her hand, gently tugging her into the room. He closed the door with his foot.

"You shouldn't be here, you know." His voice was low. For seconds she thought he would scold her. Then he broke into a smile as he unwound her scarf and began unbuttoning her coat.

"We'll have to sit on the bed. There are no chairs."

Robert put his arm around her waist, pressing her toward the bed. Seating himself, he pulled her onto his lap, reaching out with his hand to turn her face toward his. Any sense of alarm or danger she felt disappeared magically in the next few moments. He smoothed her hair back and began kissing her repeatedly. It was as if nothing else on earth existed except their love. She tensed once as part of her wanted to rebel against this love, yet physical awareness overcame her and she pressed to him.

Their bodies had that mutual attraction of youth, almost the substance of fantasy. She drove her face at him fiercely, hugging his face to hers wildly. Sliding her from his lap, he laid her gently onto the bed, and then unbuttoned her blouse. Shamelessly, she released her skirt and raised herself, aiding him as he slid her chemise over her head. His lips came to her bared breasts. Her arms clutched him wildly and she arched her breasts tightly against his face, her abandonment complete. "Oh, Robert, I love you! I can hardly wait until we are married."

He marveled at her incredible passion as he rose over her. Then came a thundering clap as the door of the room swung open and struck the inside wall.

"Oh, my goodness! I'm sorry I intruded!" A silky smile appeared on the unwanted guest's face. He hesitated for long moments, staring at them wide-eyed, before finally stepping into the room to grasp the door handle and pull it shut behind him.

As the door closed, Mary jumped to the floor and gathered her clothes. She suddenly felt cheap and sick.

Robert grasped her arm. "I'm sorry, Mary. I don't know who that was. Surely he won't say anything."

She was shaking, suddenly terror-stricken. "Yes, and now he knows. Every time I see him in the future he will know, and I will know. God! I feel cheap and used!"

"Don't say that! If anyone is cheap, it's me. I should never have let you into my room."

She dressed silently, putting on her coat and scarf. When she kissed him goodbye, her cheeks were wet. The short distance through the hotel lobby seemed like miles. She pulled her scarf tightly around her face, fully aware of the looks of appraisal from the men there. She knew the intruder's voice must have carried back to them when he opened Robert's door.

She was thankful the house was empty when she arrived home. She sat by the stove in the living room, but the heat from the stove did nothing to warm her. She felt drained of strength, but determined not to shed any tears. What she and Robert had nearly done she would never again allow to happen until they were married. Closing her eyes, she hugged herself, imagining she was still in Robert's arms. She needed that passion, tenderness and love. If only he was there to reassure her and tell her they would be married, but he had not even offered to dress and escort her home. His lack of support made her feel dirty. She hadn't known anyone could feel so sick without dying. The knot in her stomach seemed to be loosening and tightening. Rising, she went upstairs to her bedroom. Dropping on the bed, she put her face to the pillow and wept.

¹ - HOG HOUSE or HOG RANCH is a term that was used...for combination saloons/dance halls/brothels serving military outposts in the 19th century. A limited number of women were permitted association with the daily workings of the camp, and most camp followers (prostitutes) were excluded from the post proper. Reportedly, the name came from the fact that they sometimes lodged at the nearby slaughterhouse that also served the military establishment. From Encyclopedia of Prostitution and Sex Work

The Mighty Red

With the recent flood still firmly in everyone's memory (and for some, it's still a very current situation, in the northern end of the valley...), I thought I would share some interesting articles about the Red River of the North...

1825 had been a very good year at Red River. The community was growing and upgrading itself. Forty-two new homes were built in six months. The severe mouse infestation had been the only discouraging event.

The problems had begun during the winter. There had been a giant snow during December 1825. The Metis and Indians wintering in Pembina were near starvation. [Alexander] Ross visited Pembina in February and saw it first hand. A relief effort by individuals and the HBC sent many dog teams south with food and supplies. But many perished, especially in the harsh winter that year. Those that were found alive had devoured their horses, dogs, raw hides, leather and their shoes. The winter continued to bring much snow and temperatures reaching -45. The ice was five feet seven inches thick.

On May 2, 1826, the water rose 9 feet in 24 hours. On May 4 the river overflowed its banks. On the 5th all the settlers abandoned the colony seeking higher ground. The river would rise for 20 days and in places the settlement had a depth of water estimated at 16 feet. What did they save? First came the cattle then the grain, furniture and utensils. The water reached so high people had to break through the roofs of their houses to salvage what they could. Meanwhile ice flows cut everything in their path.

From The 1826 Flood, by George Siamandas [Winnipeg Time Machine]

A few unique facts about the Red River of the North:

- The Red River Valley is the youngest major land surface in the contiguous United States...it was exposed when glacial Lake Agassiz finished draining about 9,200 years ago, whereas most U.S. rivers are millions of years old.

- A normal river occupies a channel with a floodplain on the sides and valley walls immediately adjacent to the floodplain; the Red occupies a channel in a flat lakebed and the nearest valley walls are miles away, allowing its floodwaters to move "as shallow sheets that meet with other shallow sheets..."

- Unlike most U.S. rivers, the Red flows north - spring thaw starts in the southern valley before the northern valley, causing ice jams, backwater flow, and floods.

- The river slopes like a bowling lane, so gradual it's almost imperceptible to the naked eye. That gives the river a tendency to pool, spilling out as a shallow lake 50-60 miles wide at times.

From Have We Seen a Big Flood? (Fargo Forum, April 12, 2009)

Derby Excitement

Musher Odin Jorgenson of Grand Marais, Minn., arrives on schedule with his team at Frog Point near Buxton, N.D., Saturday during the Red River Dog Sled Derby. Herald photo by Eric Hylden

There was loud - but very happy - barking to be heard up and down the Red River Valley this weekend as the second running of the revived Red River Sled Dog Derby was run. According to the Grand Forks Herald, there were 20 teams competing.

Don Galloway is the winner of this year's race (Photo above shows Don with his partner and wife, August, from their Blogger profile...)

Profile: H.L. Hime, Expedition Photographer

Encampment on the Red River - Hind Expedition, 1857

Born in Ireland, H. L. Hime came to Canada in 1854 and joined the Hind Expedition as official photographer. His photographs are probably the first ever taken of the Canadian prairies.

As so often happens, due to the geographic proximity, he is connected to our area in that he passed through it, and made observations of the land and the people living here...

The Palliser and Hind Expeditions, 1857 -1860

By 1855, the last remaining piece of wild land in Canada West (formerly Upper Canada) was sold for settlement. This allowed politicians to look to the prairies as a possible region to open up for immigrants. Starting in 1857, two explorers named John Palliser and Henry Youle Hind would set out on a "scientific expedition" to discover if this land was suitable for mass settlement.

However, Palliser's expedition had another purpose. It was to survey the 49th parallel as a possible western border between the U.S. and Canada. This was crucial as America created massive east-west Intercolonial railways during the 1860s, a move that some in British North America viewed as an attempt by the Americans to expand their territory into what was to become Canada.

- From Intercolonial Railway, The Canadian Encyclopedia

On Wednesday we reached Fort Pembina, and stayed the night with Mr. Mackenzie, the officer in charge of the Post, whose sad fate last December (described further on) is a melancholy proof of the danger attending traveling alone during the winters of this climate. The woods and prairies are then perfect deserts, Indians being at their winter quarters, birds far in the sunny south, and wild animals hibernating, or seeking food and shelter in the thickest parts of the swamps and forests. So complete is this desolation in the interior of many parts of Rupert's Land during the winter, that Mr. Christie, chief factor of the Hudson's Bay Company, when traveling from Athabasca to Red River in December 1859, did not meet with a single Indian throughout a long and dreary journey of 1400 miles. (of that I can believe!!)

The thermometer at Pembina Fort indicated 22 below zero on the morning of December 2nd, when we left the Post. Having procured another train of two dogs at the small village of Pembina, two miles from the Hudson's Bay Post of that name, we struck across the prairie to the "first of the Two Creeks," where we camped...

Pine River crossing is the spot from which Mr. Mackenzie, who had so hospitably treated us at Fort Pembina, started on the morning of the 29th December 1859, on his ill-fated journey in search of assistance. He and some companions were escorting an engineer from Georgetown to Fort Garry, who was traveling thither to make alterations and repairs in the steamer Anson Northrup, then laid up for the winter near the Indian settlement. The party fell short of provisions, and Mr. Mackenzie pushed on in the hope of being able to send supplies from Pembina. After leaving his companions, he appears to have followed the trail for some distance, and at the approach of night to have lost his way. His beaten track showed that in order to keep himself from freezing, he had spent the night in running round in a circle. At the break of day he started again across the trackless waste, but in a direction considerably to the eastward of his proper course. A second day of fruitless wandering was followed by a night more dreary than the first. The third day's journey brought him near the Roseau Lake, far to the east of his destination; here his strength appears to have failed him, for having hung some shreds of his coat on a tree, to mark his last resting-place, he lay down beneath it, where his frozen body was found, with one hand on his heart and the other grasping a compass.*

* An account of this melancholy journey is given in the Red River Nor'Wester, [Issue January 14, 1860] 

From Narrative of the Canadian Red River Exploring Expedition of 1857 by Henry Youle Hind