Sweet Betsy from Pike

Five hours in the back seat of the car since they left their farm near Estevan and Tony and Jenna finally felt like this most recent family outing could end sometime soon. Their Uncle Clint’s ranch in the Cypress Hills appeared in the distant valley.

“Could I be more bored?” wondered Tony, still alert enough not to utter the words aloud.

In late evening Tony walked out of the ranch yard and across the small pasture into a grove of Ponderosa pines. Jenna, his younger sister by two years, followed close behind. The coarse whisper of the wind through the tree tops conjured up images of cowboys on cattle drives bedding down for the night. Tony climbed a knoll and spotted Fort Walsh to the south. The flag in the center of the palisade caught Tony’s eye. Its sun-speckled red and white flashed back and forth in the breeze. Tony had long dreamed of being with the mounted police in the early days of the Fort. He still loved the magic of the place even though it was now only a museum.

“We should hike over there,” suggested Tony.

“What do you mean? Now? It’s too late,” answered Jenna with a hint of sarcasm. “That’d be really cool, getting lost in the woods at dark with all the coyotes and bears not to mention snakes, mountain lions and - ”

“O.K. I get the picture,” interrupted Tony. “If you’re chicken, I’ll just go on my own.”

“I’m not chicken,” Jenna bristled at her brother’s taunt. “It’s just that we don’t have time to get there and back before dark.”

“We’d just have to get there.” Tony pointed out, “We wouldn’t have to walk back.” “They have phones. Uncle Clint could drive over and get us. He’d be surprised we were there.”

“Surprised. Right! He’d kill us or tell us to sleep over,” Jenna pointed out. “I think we should walk back and tell him we’re going, so he doesn’t worry.”

“Yeh, and then he’ll tell us we can’t go,” scolded Tony. “C’mon let’s just do it and beg forgiveness later.”

“Aaahh, you drive me nuts, Tony. If we go I know we’ll get lost or in trouble or something. If we don’t I’ll be the chicken for the rest of the vacation. I can’t win.”

“So let’s go then, I’ll protect you little sister, never fear,” boasted Tony.

“Oh shut up! You don’t have to be so dramatic,” snapped Jenna.

Tony led the way through a patch of sagebrush and toward the Fort. The sun was still a couple of fingers above the horizon so they had at least half an hour of light and then another hour of twilight before they had to worry about anything.

His spirits lifted, he burst into song: “Have you ever heard tell of sweet Betsy from Pike?”

“Oh, please, spare me,” Jenna complained.

“Who crossed the wide prairie with her brother Ike.”

“You can call me Ike, Betsy!” laughed Tony, playful now with the thought of adventure.

Jenna rolled her eyes and ran ahead. She wouldn’t give her wandering minstrel the pleasure of listening. As she did, she came to a small crevasse. Rain had washed out the side of the hill. She reared back to leap over the gap when the hill gave way. She tumbled headlong down the rushing gravel into the fissure below. She screamed. Tony heard her scream and bolted to the precipice. On the edge he stared down into the dust.

“Jenna?” called Tony, “You all right down there?”

No answer.

He called again and waited. A faint voice called, “Help! I’m hurt.”

Then even more panicked she screamed, “I’m bleeding.”

Tony started down the loose gravel path. More earth gave way.

“Rocks are falling on my head,” came a frantic cry.

“I’m going for Uncle Clint!” Tony shouted and headed out.

Time seemed to stop until he rushed into the house and breathlessly spit out his story. In moments the two barreled across the pasture in the half-ton truck and to the crevasse where Jenna lay. Uncle Clint jumped out, grabbed a rope out of the box of the truck, and sprinted to the edge of the hill.

” I’m throwing down a rope,” Tony called. “Cover your head.”

Jenna did just that as the rope unfolded its way down the slope.

Uncle Clint called, “Can you hold on honey?”

“Yeh, I think so,” answered Jenna.

“Sorry, Sis,” added Tony as he looked on with worry.

“Sorry?” quizzed Uncle Clint, looking puzzled.

“It’s my fault she’s hurt. I forced her to come with me to the Fort.”

“We’ll talk about all that later. Right now let’s get your sister out of this pit.”

Jenna held on as Uncle Clint guided the rope up the side of the hill. When she appeared out of the dust, she got to her feet and promptly kicked her brother. Then she fell into her Uncle’s arms.

“Now, now,” said Uncle Clint, “Everything’s all right honey.”

“I’m really sorry Jen,” begged Tony again on the way home. “I should never have teased you to into following me to the Fort.”

“I feel terrible about it all.”

Jenna knew it and she loved it that her brother was groveling. In fact when Tony looked at the cut on her leg and went a little pale at the sight of the blood oozing out, Jenna noticed and said, “Cluck, cluck cluck cluck. Chicken of a little blood Ike?”