heard about the other guys. She got her hands on
Jimmie Cooper, that boyâs father, and wouldnât let go. The word is
she told Jimmie she was pregnant, but she wasnât because she didnât
have that boy for a time. She married Jimmie because he was strong
and funny and she thought he would take her away from
Fairfield.
Little did she realize the place he was taking her
to was a farmhouse twenty-two miles north, even more in the middle
of nowhere! She could look out the kitchen window and see the hills
of Canada, it was so close to the border, but there was little else
to see. It was two miles from the closest neighbor, and the
neighbors, the Jorgensens, were strange enough to laugh at, but no
respectable person would associate with them. Three years after
that she left them without a word or even a note.
Erik fought the urge to jump up and yell at this
busy-body with nothing better to do. She was wrong. His Mom wasnât
like that and his dad was no dummy. There was a note to prove it.
But his voice didnât work and his body was frozen no matter how
hard he tried to move. He had to move. He had to scream at those
ladies and call them fools. But the harder he tried the more his
limbs froze to his side. His only refuge was to turn his head away
from the ladies so he wouldnât see their faces. But the face he saw
was his Auntâs. She had come to pick him up and she had a grin on
her face. The two ladies saw her too and quickly left. Erik became
sick.
He awoke in a paralysis, his mouth an open grimace of
mute screaming. He saw the walls of the bunkhouse. His nicely
starched dress shirt was now soaked in sweat and his arms hurt with
exhaustion. He cursed himself for allowing himself to nap since the
nightmare was sure to follow. He got out of bed and put only his
head in the shower, drenching the dream away. He used the still wet
bath towel he had just used to wipe himself down again. Then he
left the bunkhouse and walked until he was calmer. The nightmare
was so common it didnât have the depth of horror it once had. He
returned to the bunkhouse and the bed.
Erik forced himself to dream. Dreams were the only
thing that made him feel real and wanted and they took away the
pictures of the nightmare. He dreamt of a woman, different in every
way than the bleak land of his life. He dreamt of Laura. Laura was
the name of the girl he was going to see that evening. Laura was
not just another dream, but a person with features he could see and
smells he could remember, and although he hadnât admitted it to his
aunt, he had planned all week to visit her after his work was
done.
Erik thought of the few times he had seen Laura, a
waitress at the Mint Bar in Sweet Grass. He didnât particularly
like Sweet Grass. It was a border town with the Customs stop its
only reason for existence. It was only eleven miles east of the
Cooperâs farm, but in a direction Erik seldom took. In Sweet Grass,
Erik was still a stranger.
The town was so small Erik didnât know why they gave
it a name except to find it on a map. There was nothing in the town
that would remind anyone of sweet grass. It had a few houses for
those who worked for the Customs Service and a rodeo grounds used
once a year. There were three grain elevators, a Farmerâs Union
Co-op to get some gas, a church that straddled the US-Canadian
border, and the Mint Bar. It wasnât a place you would go for
excitement, but rather than Fairfield, Erik would go there to see
Laura. He would go there that evening.
Erik remembered seeing her for the first time. He
wanted to get away from the farm, but he didnât want to face
another night by himself in Fairfield. He went east instead and
found himself in the Mint and there she was. She was beautiful,
like someone who would be in a big city. She carried herself like
someone who hadnât been worn down by farm life, and her clothes,
although simple, were different than Fairfieldâs
Jimmie Cooper, that boyâs father, and wouldnât let go. The word is
she told Jimmie she was pregnant, but she wasnât because she didnât
have that boy for a time. She married Jimmie because he was strong
and funny and she thought he would take her away from
Fairfield.
Little did she realize the place he was taking her
to was a farmhouse twenty-two miles north, even more in the middle
of nowhere! She could look out the kitchen window and see the hills
of Canada, it was so close to the border, but there was little else
to see. It was two miles from the closest neighbor, and the
neighbors, the Jorgensens, were strange enough to laugh at, but no
respectable person would associate with them. Three years after
that she left them without a word or even a note.
Erik fought the urge to jump up and yell at this
busy-body with nothing better to do. She was wrong. His Mom wasnât
like that and his dad was no dummy. There was a note to prove it.
But his voice didnât work and his body was frozen no matter how
hard he tried to move. He had to move. He had to scream at those
ladies and call them fools. But the harder he tried the more his
limbs froze to his side. His only refuge was to turn his head away
from the ladies so he wouldnât see their faces. But the face he saw
was his Auntâs. She had come to pick him up and she had a grin on
her face. The two ladies saw her too and quickly left. Erik became
sick.
He awoke in a paralysis, his mouth an open grimace of
mute screaming. He saw the walls of the bunkhouse. His nicely
starched dress shirt was now soaked in sweat and his arms hurt with
exhaustion. He cursed himself for allowing himself to nap since the
nightmare was sure to follow. He got out of bed and put only his
head in the shower, drenching the dream away. He used the still wet
bath towel he had just used to wipe himself down again. Then he
left the bunkhouse and walked until he was calmer. The nightmare
was so common it didnât have the depth of horror it once had. He
returned to the bunkhouse and the bed.
Erik forced himself to dream. Dreams were the only
thing that made him feel real and wanted and they took away the
pictures of the nightmare. He dreamt of a woman, different in every
way than the bleak land of his life. He dreamt of Laura. Laura was
the name of the girl he was going to see that evening. Laura was
not just another dream, but a person with features he could see and
smells he could remember, and although he hadnât admitted it to his
aunt, he had planned all week to visit her after his work was
done.
Erik thought of the few times he had seen Laura, a
waitress at the Mint Bar in Sweet Grass. He didnât particularly
like Sweet Grass. It was a border town with the Customs stop its
only reason for existence. It was only eleven miles east of the
Cooperâs farm, but in a direction Erik seldom took. In Sweet Grass,
Erik was still a stranger.
The town was so small Erik didnât know why they gave
it a name except to find it on a map. There was nothing in the town
that would remind anyone of sweet grass. It had a few houses for
those who worked for the Customs Service and a rodeo grounds used
once a year. There were three grain elevators, a Farmerâs Union
Co-op to get some gas, a church that straddled the US-Canadian
border, and the Mint Bar. It wasnât a place you would go for
excitement, but rather than Fairfield, Erik would go there to see
Laura. He would go there that evening.
Erik remembered seeing her for the first time. He
wanted to get away from the farm, but he didnât want to face
another night by himself in Fairfield. He went east instead and
found himself in the Mint and there she was. She was beautiful,
like someone who would be in a big city. She carried herself like
someone who hadnât been worn down by farm life, and her clothes,
although simple, were different than Fairfieldâs
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