A Green Valley Welcome

They came up a final steep hill and paused at the top. Before them was a paradise - a green valley, more lush than any they had seen in the past two days. It was just like Jack had described it. This valley was deep and wide. The hills on the backside were low and tillable. There were fields with cattle grazing on them and a hillside full of sheep. A generous stream ran right through the middle of it all. In the far distance, Harley could see the orchard. It was gigantic and just now turning the dark summer green, instead of the bright and light spring green when the trees just start to bud out. They were most likely done blooming and already starting to set fruit on their branches. Harley had never seen so many apple trees.

“I’m pretty sure this is it, fellas. Welcome to Chelan Butte Ranch. We have arrived!” announced Harley. All of them sat still on their horses and surveyed the valley for several minutes. Words were not needed, really. It was an incredible sight.

Finally, Ed spoke, “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like this. It looks like Heaven. We can bury Clarence in Heaven. He woulda liked that, huh?”

“Yes,” said Harley, “and we had better get down there to the main house and find out what to do with Clarence before it gets dark.”

“I just hope we ain’t missed dinner, Harley!” chimed in Leo.

“I’m sure there’s no shortage of food here, Leo. We’ll be eating well, I’ll guarantee you that.”

Harley waved them forward and continued to lead the way down from that last hillside. Everything was so green and pastoral. It was like a museum painting, Harley thought. He had never actually been in a museum or seen one of the paintings there, but he had seen pictures of paintings, and he was sure he was right.

The horses must have sensed they were near the end of their journey also, or perhaps they detected the scent of the other domesticated animals, because all of a sudden, they were also in a big hurry. It was like they knew where the barn was and they knew that they belonged there. There was no holding them back!

As Harley got closer, he could see a few people moving around and one figure waved to the men on horseback. He waved back, even though he was not sure who it was. In another minute or two, he could hear a dog barking. They had to ride alongside a fence for about a half of a mile until they found a gate. There was a crude sign there that commanded people to close the gate behind them. They entered the gate and dutifully complied with the command once they were all inside the fence.

Harley wondered if the fence was meant to contain the space, or to keep something or someone out. It certainly wouldn’t stop a person or a wild animal, so he decided it was to delineate the property boundaries. Then he wondered if it went all the way around the property. That seemed hardly possible, with the size of the ranch. Surely not all of it was contained, but he supposed he would have to wait and see or ask Uncle Gene. He had never known anyone who owned a piece of land with these enormous dimensions.

As they made their final approach, it was easy to tell which cowboy was Uncle Gene. He was the tall man, in middle of the lineup of curious greeters, wearing a white hat and spectacles, and looking like a twin brother to Harley’s other uncles, Mark and Earl. Uncle Gene stepped forward as the four horsemen neared the ranch house.

“You will have to excuse all these nosy gawkers, Harley. They just want to see what a teenage boy who is brave enough to ride the rails halfway across the country looks like. Now you have seen him, men, so you sheep fellas can get back out to the north pasture. You have a good hour of sunlight before we are done for the night. Let’s round up the rest of those sheep. Don’t forget to make the dogs do most of the work. They are a lot smarter than you are!” He laughed and took off his hat. He put it on Harley.

“Here’s a great hat for you, Harley. A little gift from your old Uncle Gene,”

Then a look of deep concern swept across his face and he asked, with alarm, “Whoa, son, is that a body on the back of your horse?”

“Uncle Gene, that’s Clarence. He was riding behind me earlier today, and the horse got spooked by a rattler. He reared up and Clarence went flyin’ off the back. Broke his neck. He was dead where he landed. We couldn’t do anything to help him, but we couldn’t leave him there.”

“You have a plan for him here?” asked Gene.

“Well, sir, we thought the sheriff could try to locate his family in Racine, Wisconsin. And we were hoping we could bury him on the ranch somewhere, or it could be off the ranch. We want it to be a nice spot, not just on the side of the empty road where he died. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Gene.

“Okay?” asked Harley. “Really?”

“Sounds like a practical plan to me, son. I was raised by the same father who raised your mother, remember? You should not be surprised that we think alike. That’s one reason why I am so glad to have you on the ranch. You will be able to figure out how to do lots of things here, without me having to tell you every single thing to do. Let’s put him in the hay barn tonight. We can lay him on the straw bales and find the right place first thing tomorrow. We don’t want to have to be digging a grave at high noon. I’ll bet it’s gonna be a warm day tomorrow!”

“Gee, Thanks, Uncle Gene. And, sir, I have some fellas I would like you to meet. Step up here, fellas,” Harley said as he motioned to his friends. Leo, Adam, and Ed dutifully lined up.

Uncle Gene proceeded to circle up the remaining farmhands. Their clothing, beards, and demeanor were markedly different than those of the hobos. They stood straighter, so Harley pulled his shoulders back. They had tucked-in shirts and nice belts. He sort of shoved his hands around the waist of his trousers and hiked them up a little bit. He had a scruffy beard started, mostly because of his age. It was not a man’s beard, and his mother would be horrified if she knew he had one. Uncle Gene might tell her, so Harley decided to shave it off at the first opportunity he had. He would ask Uncle Gene to loan him a razor before they bedded down for the night.

Harley’s crew all shook hands and started some small talk with a few of the farmhands. He guessed they had been coached by their boss to be welcoming. The four new fellas were lowly bindle stiffs, but one of them was his nephew, so Gene wanted them treated respectfully. They tied the horses up on the fence rail by the horse barn and then followed the foreman, John, to the bunkhouse. Harley was surprised there were enough bunks for all of them, and a few extra beds left over. Maybe they would all be able to work for Uncle Gene and stay together!

It was a remarkably well-furnished bunkhouse. It had running water and a clean outhouse. There were burlap curtains on the windows, and the lighting was fairly bright. A couple of mirrors hung above two washtubs, and Harley could see a rigged-up clothesline out the back window. It was better than he had expected for way out here in the west.

About seventy-five yards east of the bunkhouse was the ranch house, an amazingly large log cabin with a porch that wrapped around the front and one of the sides. It looked like a rugged lodge that he had seen a picture of in one of the National Geographic magazines that his mother had. There was a warm, home-like glow coming through the windows, as it was quickly becoming dark.

It seemed to Harley that the country’s bad economic times had not touched his uncle’s prosperity. He appreciated the opportunity to work for his college money and not just ask for a cash handout. Uncle Gene would most assuredly not respect him if he had done that. He was determined to work hard the next few months to earn his uncle’s respect.

The men all put the bindles down on their chosen bunks.

“Can we wash up right now?” asked Leo.

“Sure,” replied John. “We already ate, but I think the boss is going to have some sandwiches sent out here for you,” he added, as he gestured towards the large wooden table and chairs in the far front corner of the bunkhouse. “We eat our meals over there. Don’t eat on your bunk; it’ll draw critters and bugs. We keep this place dang tidy and clean and expect you men to do the same.”

Harley felt like an affirmative response was needed, so he came out with, “That sounds swell. No one likes critters or bugs. We will keep it clean, right guys?”

Leo, Ed, and Adam all added a “Yes, sir, John.” John nodded at them, with a friendly glance. Not a smile, but a positive mien. Harley thought to himself, “so far, so good.”

With just two wash tubs, the men had to take turns washing up and did so quickly. Harley washed up last and decided to ask Uncle Gene for a spare razor when he saw him; hopefully before bedtime, whenever that was. It was nearly dark now, and Harley thought he had better check on the whereabouts of Clarence’s body. He mentioned it to John and was told that it was in the hay barn like Uncle Gene had said, and they could bury him first thing tomorrow morning.

“Is it okay if I go up to the main house and talk to Uncle Gene?” inquired Harley.

“Well, go on up there, and knock on the door, since you are family. He might not know it is you, so if they don’t answer the door, you will find a little wooden box with pencil and paper nailed on one of the porch posts. He lets us leave messages for him in there; then he gets back to us as soon as he can,” explained John.

“That sounds like a good system. Thanks,” replied Harley.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, fellas. Maybe I can pick up some sandwiches if they are ready,” Harley said over his shoulder, as he closed the bunkhouse door behind him.

He strode towards the main house, which appeared even larger the closer he got to it. He could see the shadows of a person in the front room, so he was hoping Uncle Gene would answer his knock. He had gone about three-quarters of the way from the bunkhouse when his uncle stepped out on the porch.

“Comin’ to get your dinner, nephew?” hollered Gene.

“Yessir, and a spare razor if you have one. I can’t have you telling my mother I grew these whiskers.”

“We can take care of that, for sure. I sure as heck would not want to be you, young man, if your mother saw you looking like this!” His uncle let out a hearty laugh, and Harley thought it sounded a lot like Uncle Lynn’s laugh.

Gene quickly disappeared into the house and reappeared with a plate full of beef sandwiches and handed it over to Harley. He said there was a cupboard with drinking cups in it in the bunkhouse, and went back in, returning with a pitcher of milk! Harley had expected to be drinking coffee or water, but Gene said, “You are still a-growin’, son, so you need milk. It won’t hurt the fellas with you, either.” Then he pulled a razor out of his jacket pocket. “Don’t try this until tomorrow morning, when there is some daylight. I don’t want you chopping up your face.”

“Thanks, Uncle Gene, and I have a couple of questions. Well, first I want to tell you how nice the bunkhouse is. Are you short on hands? There seem to be some empty bunks, even after us coming in?”

“Well, yes. I am missing a few men, Harley. Since you called me from town, three of my men got the California bug. They knew you were coming, so they just up and took off. Guess they did me a favor, since they really weren’t my best workers,” Gene shrugged. “How are the men you brought with you? Are they going to be slackers or workers? How well do you know them?”

Harley replied, “Well, they have been with me since Nebraska. They have helped me out with riding the trains and being safe. They are all regular guys whose families and lives fell apart the past couple of years. We all pull together, and they are really eager to prove themselves and settle somewhere to work. They are kind of hoping we could stay together. Could you use all of us, or do you know other ranchers around here who could use them?”

“Are they going to leave when you leave?” queried his uncle.

“No, I doubt it. They want to settle down. They aren’t like the bums who enjoy riding the rails. Uncle Gene, they don’t know that I am planning on going back to attend college. I will tell them soon and talk to them about staying here, but just let us get settled in around here first. Do you need all of us, or just me?”

“With the men who just took off for California and the bumper crop it looks like we are going to have, I have plenty of work for them. You can vouch for them all?” Gene raised a questioning brow in Harley’s direction.

Harley chose his words carefully. “I have known them for about three weeks. They saved me from going under a train, they protected me from bad bums, and they prayed with me over Clarence’s body out there on the trail. I believe they will work hard with us.”

“You sure?”

“As far as I can tell. They have all had some hard times the past few years, but every chance we had to work somewhere the past three weeks, they took it. They just want a fair chance.”

Gene concluded, “Then I will give them a chance. I am a fair man. You get your crew outside right after breakfast. At the edge of the grove on the far east side of the bunkhouse, you will find a couple of marked graves of other hands who died here. Bury Clarence next to them. I’ll see to getting a grave marker, and you can call the sheriff on my telephone tomorrow night and let him know. Maybe they can let his family know. Clarence is wrapped in a horse blanket in the hay barn. Go ahead and bury it with him. Shovels are in the tool shed next to the barn. We have pretty rocky dirt here, so it will probably take you until noon to get the job done. Make sure it’s deep, because we have a lot of critters out here, okay?”

Harley agreed, “We will get it done just like you say, Uncle Gene. Hey, do you think I might be able to call my mother tomorrow? I have truly had no way to let her know how everything is going since I left.”

“Sure,” Gene replied. “You go eat dinner and then bring the empty platter back up here. We can call your mother then.”

“Will do, sir.” Harley affirmed and briskly marched back to the bunkhouse to share the sandwiches and milk.

When he got to the door, it was a bit ajar and it sounded like the farmhands had returned from putting the sheep up for the night and were being regaled with hobo stories. These men were obviously born and raised around the area, or at least had come west some other way than riding the rails.

Leo and the other two had more tales to tell than Harley, so he just put the sandwiches on the table and said, “I have to take this plate back to the house when we are done. Let’s dig in, fellas.”

He did not want to let them know he was going to call his mother. He wasn’t ready to explain the college plan; he wanted to focus on working with them on the ranch. When they got to know him better they would understand, and hopefully be happy for him. The new men made short work of the sandwiches, and the other hands got ready to play some poker. The game would not last long, as tomorrow would be another work day full of tending the sheep, cattle, and the apple orchard.

Harley took a lantern that was by the door and headed back to the main house.

His mother cried when she heard Harley’s voice, but calmed down and was able to give him news from home. According to Lena, Charley was gaining strength every day and Michael was turning into a fine farmer. She scolded Harley for not contacting her but was completely overjoyed at his safe arrival in Chelan. He did not tell her about Clarence but did describe the way he led his new friends to Chelan instead of California, thinking that would please her.

“Well, I am glad you didn’t stop in California on the way to Gene’s, but maybe you will have time to stop and see Aunt Polly in Sacramento on your way home,” suggested his mother. “You know, she is the reason I met your father. I will have to tell you that train station story again sometime before you see her. That way you can thank her properly!”

“Sure thing, Mother,” Harley agreed. “I’m getting tired and I think the fellas in the bunkhouse will be wondering if I got lost. I’d better bed down here soon. I love you, and tell Dad that I love him, too. Please say hello to Mike for me. Do you want to talk to Uncle Gene?”

“Just thank him again for taking you on and thank him every day. Let’s not run up his phone bill. We love you.” With that, Lena hung up. She had a habit of doing that. She never said “goodbye” when she was talking on the telephone. She just quit talking and then hung up. It was different, but also funny to Harley.