The Badger Riot Read Free Page A

that a caul is a rare thing? Children born with it are special. Out of all my twenty-two children, only one had a caul, my little Ralphie. His grandfather said he might become a chief one of these days.”
    The midwife gave Bridey the caul and told her to dry it and keep it for the little girl. It would bring her luck, she said.
    The name Assumpta didn’t seem to suit the little girl with her bright copper hair, clear white skin, and green eyes. Everyone called her Jennie. There was a presence about her. She had a way of standing with her sturdy little legs planted apart, her eyes flashing, ready to take on anyone who crossed her and aroused her fiery temper.
    The priest was offended that her parents weren’t using the name Assumpta. After all, wasn’t he the one who’d picked it out when the godparents had brought her to be baptized? “For a child to be named after the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary into Heaven is an honour beyond compare,” he said.
    Bridey was secretly resentful that parents weren’t allowed to be present at the baptism of children, and also that the priest hadchanged her baby’s name from Jennifer to Assumpta Jennifer. She didn’t give a fig what he said about the name Assumpta, but she obediently answered, “Yes, Father,” and went off home, calling her sweet little girl Jennie.
    After Jennie was born, Phonse came exactly nine months later. Then every year came another, until there were eleven. The last pregnancy, a set of twins, caused complications and Bridey nearly bled to death. Even Missus Annie, the midwife, was worried and sent for the A.N.D. Company doctor.
    The only birth control that Bridey knew was to “pull out.” The priest said that birth control was sinful, although the rhythm method was allowed. Bridey couldn’t get the hang of it. She was always so busy that she’d forget to count up the days and, besides, Ned would be impatient with her if she turned away from him in bed. What could she do?
    Bridey’s friend, Missus Crawford, was the kind of woman who knew a bit about everything. She and her husband and their little boy, Vern, had moved down from Buchans Junction a few years ago. Mr. Crawford worked as a sectionman on the railway, travelling up and down the tracks on a speeder to check the tracks for washouts and breaks. Missus Crawford had quickly integrated herself into the town and soon knew much more than Bridey did about the various residents.
    After she recovered from the twins’ birth, Bridey confided to Missus Crawford that the doctor had told her that having another baby would kill her.
    â€œLook, maid,” said practical Missus Crawford, “you has to do something. It is a bigger sin for you to die and leave eleven young children. Some things are better left to women to decide, rather than priests.”
    â€œSo what will I do?” she ventured timidly. “I can’t turn Ned away.”
    â€œMy dear,” whispered her friend, “don’t you know about the things that women inserts into themselves?”
    Bridey shook her head.
    â€œWell, for one thing, there’s the penny. Put it up just before; leave it there for twenty-four hours after. Same thing with a bit of muslin or cheesecloth soaked in vinegar.”
    â€œHow . . . how do I get it . . . up?”
    â€œJest the length of your forefinger, maid,” she tittered. “The man does the rest and he don’t even know he’s doing it.”
    Bridey was too shy to ask Missus Crawford if she herself used the pennies and the vinegar or the rhythm method or the “pull-out.” The Crawfords only had little Vern, so she probably did.
    In the Sullivan bed, Ned was none the wiser.

2
    The first time Rod Anderson went with his father to negotiate a contract with the A.N.D. Company was an eye-opener for the young man. Eli Anderson was a woods contractor. The Company had already approved Rod to take over from