The Farm At Maple Hollow - 32. Chapter 32

Now that the 4^th was but a couple of days away, the animals for show were brought down to get acclimated to the fairgrounds and the stalls they would be using. I had been watching Mary put the four Belgians who would be pulling the city bus, practice a new routine. While she had plenty of younger children to ride the bus in the parade and a couple of spins around the fairground race track, she had something else up her sleeve.

While I didn’t have the time to see a full practice session, what I saw was incredible. Mary, from an early age, was participated in dressage competitions. Dressage is perhaps the pinnacle of horse training, focusing on elegance. The horse and rider are expected to demonstrate proficiency walks, canters, trotting, and other fancy maneuvers. It is, for the lack of better words, a ballet performed by horse and rider.

Mind you, a Belgian is as far removed from the world of dressage as a defensive lineman in football would be from ballet. What little I had time to see what she was working on, left me stunned. She had Sam and Pietro involved as well, and I could not have been prouder. As much as I would have liked to stay and watch the entire practice, Ethan and I needed to get back up to the farm.

The next few days saw everyone going in different directions getting ready for the big to-do over the 4^th of July weekend. Everyone was busy either cooking, practicing, cleaning the various animals, boots, and clothes. In a sense, as we sat lazily on the porch, watching everyone getting consumed in the preparations for the parade and activities down at the fairgrounds. Leaving Ethan and myself sitting on the porch ruminating, as everyone went by us all asses and elbows. I kept reminding myself we only had pies to be judged…thank God for that! I still wasn’t sure if I was over my begrudging, giving up strawberry rhubarb pies to a group of old biddies, who couldn’t possibly see the magnificence I knew that was comported those pies!

Finally, the morning of the 4^th was upon us, the parade was due to start at noon in the center of town. Ethan had wandered down to the fairgrounds earlier to drop his three strawberry pies off, I had threated previous harm to his bits if he took a fourth. Earl dropped the three musketeers down at Riverside so they could hitch the transit wagon and help Mr. Janssen get ready. They would split up at the center of town as Mr. Janssen would head on down to get ready for the tractor pull. He’d be the only draft horse team and was determined to give his best effort in this last time as a contestant. He’d had taken a load of good-natured ribbing from his friends and fellow contestants during the past ten days or so, but to a person, they all deeply respected him. Mr. Janssen was one of the last of a dying breed who ran a first-class operation.

~~~

With a wail of sirens and horns, activity on the town common ceased, folks abandoned the various crafts and food booths to watch the parade start. In the lead were the town fire trucks, followed by the Rescue Squad ambulance and police department. The high school and elementary bands followed. Behind them were the various clubs from Boy and Girl Scouts, Future Farmers of America, 4-H clubs, followed by the various school clubs. Bringing up the rear was Mary and the transit wagon. A loud roar went up as she and the team brought up the rear of the parade. The transit wagon had been polished to the nines, not to be outdone, Levi, Samwise, Frodo, and Maria had been curried and combed to perfection. The harness and other tack glistened as if it were brand new. Having spent a good part of their early years in the failing circus, they were thriving on the attention and stepped lively.

It didn’t hurt that Mary had the wagon filled to capacity with ‘volunteers’ from the elementary summer school programs. Sam and Pietro looked very smart, dressed as conductors. Instead of collecting tickets, they were handing out small bags of candy and party favors for the ‘passengers’ to toss out to the crowds on the sidewalks. All too soon they had made the circuit around the center of town and joined the rest of the parade to the fairgrounds.

Down at the fairgrounds, Mr. Janssen with some help from Earl, had Rosco and Rufus in their harness and were standing by the dray that they would pull. There was some good-natured teasing directed towards them as to the changing times and the superiority of the tractors. They gave as good as they got until Paul Urban, the owner of Nightingale Farm over in New Hanover, started to get a tad personal. While he wasn’t deep into his cups, it appeared he had a few drinks under his belt. Paul Urban was a cocky son-of-a-bitch on his best days sober, after a few drinks, he became the smartest man in the room and wasn’t afraid to let you know it.

Nightingale Farm like Riverside had been a showpiece of a farm. The difference between the two was, while Mr. Janssen built his over the years to be considered one of the best around and the deep respect of his fellow farmers, Paul Urban had his operation handed to him when he married into the family. His father-in-law had deep pockets and a blind spot when it came to his son-in-law. Once the old man passed, the operations at Nightingale imperceptibly started to decline. Most of the profits were not put back into the farm. He was skint when it came for paying good help and operations were beginning to show fraying at the seams. A boat, much bigger than could be reasonably used by a family of four and trips to exotic locations place a considerable drain of the budgets.

It was said that the only redeeming quality of Paul Urban was his fondness of tractors. He always had the best and newest. His pride and joy, was a new Massey Ferguson 135. While not a large tractor, it was considered a workhorse and best in its class.

The best way to deal with Paul Urban was to generally ignore him, hoping he’d simply go away and find other targets of opportunity. It wasn’t to be today, his needling of Mr. Janssen led to a bet, the best two out of three pulls for a hundred bucks. While there was some back and forth as to comparable weights and distances, a compromise was reached when the other contestants rallied around Mr. Janssen and set the parameters to ensure fairness.

A coin was tossed and Mr. Janssen would go first. Leading Rosco and Rufus up to the dray, they hooked up as the agreed upon weight was placed. By this time a considerable crowd had gathered to watch the doings. Once the signal to start was given, Rosco and Rufus leaned into their harness, commencing pulling the dray with ease the required distance and well within the time allowed.

After Paul Urban’s first run, his time was slightly better by a few seconds. Rosco and Rufus stood patiently as more weight was added to the dray as the dirt was graded. As they began their pull, the leather harnesses creaked and groaned as they took the weight and headed off down the track. As with the first run, Paul Urban’s time was marginally better, not by much…the gap had narrowed.

As Mr. Janssen headed back to the dray, everyone had missed the wrong weights added to his dray. What additional weight that was meant for his third run was added to Paul Urban’s sled. Rosco and Rufus would be pulling the a much heavier load than what was agreed upon! As Earl was walking around the dray to see all was in order, he spotted the difference. Pulling Mr. Janssen aside to let him know there was some cheating going on.

Mr. Janssen quietly shook his head, scratching his chin he spotted Mary off to the side. Calling her over he asked her to take this last run. She wasn’t sure she could do this, leading her over to Rosco and Rufus, he helped her check and adjust the harness and tack, all the while letting he know she was more than capable; the weight was well within their capabilities.

A single Belgian can pull four tons of weight, a team of two can easily pull three times the weight of one. Mr. Janssen was counting on very few people knowing that fact. He let Earl know he was going to let Rosco and Rufus pull the incorrect weight, once done he’d point out to everyone the switch in weights and make Paul Urban pull the correct weight and a penalty weight!

Mary took the reins and awaited the signal to start. Once given, Rosco and Rufus leaned into their harness and dug in. Every bit of their gear was taught, straining to the breaking point as they assumed the weight and started their run. The effort was considerable as leaned in, using their massive hindquarters to dig in, their bodies extending as they gained purchase. Their immense heads lowered as they gained each step, sending clods of dirt flying as both rear hooves sought firm purchase in the soft dirt of the track. Gaining momentum, they fought for every inch of distance between them and the finish line. Mary’s quiet encouragement spurned them on in a final push over the finish line, ten seconds within the allotted time.

Back at the starting line there was all sorts of hell to pay, without being directly confronted or accused, it was quickly agreed that Paul Urban would have the weights he was supposed to pull restored to his sled with one caveat. Rosco and Rufus had carried a known percentage of extra weight that had been agreed upon. As such, Paul Urban would have to carry the same percentage added to his total weight.

Once the details were taken care of and at the starting line, a large crowd gathered to see the results. Revving his engine, his tractor belched thick black smoke as he struggled off the starting line. The ribbed tires on the rear of his tractor dug furiously into the dirt of the track. The extra weight of the sled serving as a drag ensured a slow start off the starting line. Realizing he was losing time, he increased the power to the engine, gaining a few yards before the drag started slowing him even more. Gunning the tractor engine to its full power, the front wheels skipped lightly over the track in front of him as the wheels dug even deeper for any additional purchase.

By now the roar coming from the poor overloaded tractor, was clearly straining under the increased load. About twenty feet from the spot where Rosco and Rufus finished, a loud knocking could be heard coming from the vicinity of the engine. And within a few seconds of that noisy development, a loud bang was heard as the tractor engine disappeared in a cloud of exhaust and oily smoke. Suddenly all was silent and as the smoke cleared one could easily see a piston and other parts of the engine laying in the dirt of the track.

~~~

We all agreed to meet for a quick bite to eat in an hour, Mary needed time to put Rosco and Rufus in their stalls after a cool-down walk. I couldn’t have been any more impressed with what those two magnificent horses. There wasn’t any doubt they had given their all for Mary. If I had to guess, they still had something left in the tank so to speak. As they made that last pull down the dirt track, you could see every individual muscle group at work as they took on the weight of the dray. Mr. Janssen and Earl were all smiles as they offered to shout us dinner in a bit.

We walked through the various booths looking for Ethan’s pie, judging had been over for some time. I don’t think it was the smartest thing we had done that day, walking through all the food booths, nibbling at the various free samples on offer. Ethan caught Sam and Pietro circling back towards the homemade chocolate and was going to make them empty their pockets. After what seemed like an eternity we made it to the pies, loaded down with several purchases of various foodstuffs we simply couldn’t do without. My favorite was the braided raisin bread, go figure.

There at the judge’s stand was Ethan’s pie with a third-place ribbon, having been beat out by Mrs. Bacevich’s mince pie and Mrs. Wicklund’s blueberry pie. I think Ethan took the ribbing good naturedly and missed some of the evil eye glances from some of the other disappointed ladies when he wasn’t looking. I decided the pie and the ribbon were coming with us. As we made our way to the dining tent, we needed to drop off the various and sundry items that seemed to have become attached to us.

Once we were at the car, the foods that would spoil were placed carefully in the cooler and the other packages were stowed in the back of my station wagon. With a certain gravatas and celerity I announced that the strawberry pie was coming with us. I nearly failed to notice as the many things were put away, both Sam and Pietro each grabbed a gym bag. When quired they told us, it was for later and clammed up. It was a short walk to the dining tent and we quickly spotted Earl, Marge sitting alongside Mr. and Mrs. Janssen. Dinner tickets were handed out and we all headed off to fill our plates.

The meal was a rip-roaring affair, Earl gave all of us a glass of his hard cider, and while the pieces may have been smaller than I would have liked, everybody got some of Ethan’s pie. As we were finishing our desserts there was an announcement that there would be a special horse demonstration in front of the main grandstand in forty-five minutes, before the fireworks would start. Mary, Sam, and Pietro quietly, and with a nod and a wink to me, got up and left the table, drawing as little attention as possible to their departure. After the coffee was served, we slowly made our way to the grandstand.

Sitting in our seats, I noticed there was a lot of chatter, it seemed that no one was missing the three musketeers. By now dusk was slowly giving way to early evening and the lights directly in front of the main grandstand were turned on. Several boy scouts came out and started placing markers on the ground forming a rectangle. Once they had finished the announcer presented the line-up for the evening’s entertainment. Along with the equine demonstration, there would be; a parade of livestock blue ribbon winners, a sheep roping contest for the youngest 4-H members, along with the obligatory catch the greased piglet contest!

That brought out a round of laughter from the crowd which was marred by Bobby Jeanettes mouthing off in our general direction. He, along with his crew, Toad and Flubber, were quickly escorted from the grandstand and asked to leave. It was noticeable they had been drinking and were only embarrassing themselves. They were soon forgotten as some fancy music started to play and from out of the shadows came Mary, Sam, Pietro, and the Belgians.

The three of them were dressed in fancy riding gear, half chaps, leggings, boots, gloves, and protective helmets. Their assemblage all matched from the tailcoats, riding shirts, the jackets and stock ties. All six of the horses had been curried till they shined. Their mane and tails had been braided and festooned with ribbons.

Lining up in front of the grandstand, Mary had everyone take a bow. Once finished, Sam and Pietro led the rest off to the side, as Mary mounted Rosco and began a show that would be long remembered. Suddenly it clicked, what I had seen them practicing earlier was about to begin. Mary patted Rosco on his neck and they were off. Putting Rosco through a series of walks, trots, and canters, transitioning seamlessly you would have thought you were watching a ballet.

As her demonstration came to an end, Sam and Pietro came out on Rufus and Levi and did a series of dancing weaves and synchronized steps that belied the enormous size of the Belgians. Both boys looked as if they belonged in the saddle. There was a fluidness to the movement as they transitioned through the required steps. While it wasn’t a competition, it was at Mary’s insistence that it was treated as such. She made sure her compatriots knew that there would be several members of the ‘horse’ set viewing the demonstration.

Once the boys had finished, Mary led Maria through a complex set of movements that required side to side steps along with tracing a pattern both moving forward and backwards. This demonstration, while sedentary, displayed phenomenal grace and poise, it was the perfect choice considering Maria’s advanced stage of pregnancy.

What went unnoticed during Mary’s demonstration was that Sam had disappeared for a moment and when he returned, he was dressed as a clown. Pietro, still dressed as if he was competing in a dressage competition, came out on Frodo and began a slightly different routine acting as the straight man for what was about to follow. Sam, walking Samwise out, began his portion of the act. As he went to mount Samwise it became a game of chase and be chased as he tried to climb into the saddle. While not obvious at first, it looked as if Samwise was directing little Sam through the required competition steps! As they were going through their comedy routine Mary rolled out a barrel.

At this point, Sam’s act had devolved into a game of chase, hide, and seek as he would duck behind Pietro and Frodo. ‘Spotting’ the barrel, Sam jumped in as Samwise proceeded to roll him over and push him around a bit. As the act ended, Sam crawled out of the barrel a bit discombulated and took is bow alongside Pietro and the horses.

Mary then led the other Belgians out and as they formed a line, they each in turn, took a bow and walked out. For a moment you could have heard a pin drop, like a ripple the applause built up to a crescendo for a performance well done!

~~~

For us, the rest of the show was a tad anticlimactic, while it was fun watching the youngsters try to rope the sheep and chase the grease piglets, I think to a person we were all a bit tired and looking forward to the fireworks. At some point early on, Sam and Pietro had rejoined us, letting us know Mr. Janssen and Mary were seeing to the horses.

All in all, it was a fine evening and was looking forward to the fireworks. I was beginning to wonder where Mr. Janssen and Mary were when Chester Sullivan, one of the fairground stable hands came running up to us, breathlessly informing us that Bobby Jeanettes, Flubber, and Toad were down in the stables hassling Mr. Janssen and Mary!

Before I could react, Sam and Pietro were off like a rocket, Earl and I went to find Chief Woods, we knew he was nearby, we had just spoken to him. A feeling of dread overcame me as we reached Chief Woods, I just knew that miserable son-of-a-bitch was up to no good and could only hope Mary was ok.