Staunton series Ch. # 12 picnic in the park, work at the yard

Staunton Series Chapter XII

 

                                    Picnic for Ian, work for Jim and Selkirk

 

       After breakfast, Jim rode up towards the yard site on the Fraser River. He stopped along the way, to pick up a bag of mortar mix. He had taken John Lowry’s advice and now had a long gun nestled in a leather sheath, strapped to his horse. This far back in the woods, you didn’t get to holler for help. If anything came at you, you had to take care of it yourself. At the site, he unsaddled his horse, rubbed her down and set out some oats and water. It would be a long day for both of them.

 

          Jim inspected the cement floors that they had poured. He was pleased to see that they had hardened and settled the way he wanted them to. Then, using a wooden mallet, he smacked out the bricks from their molds and lay them in a pile.  It was a stack big enough number to keep him busy all day. 

        After he finished with the bricks, he mixed up another batch of clay, adding 30% water to 30% clay and 30% sand, with some lime for quick drying, to start another set of bricks. When he was happy with the mix, he hand-poured the mix into the wooden molds and set them aside to dry. They would harden all week  and dry and be ready for laying in next week.

 

        As he was readying to set in a layer of bricks inside the building outline, he heard someone holler “Hello, the camp.” A young lad, in his late teens sat astride a mount.

 

       Jim hollered, “Be you Selkirk Stadler?”

 

     “I am, Mr. Mac Adams,” hollered Selkirk. “And ready to give you a hand.”

 

      Jim welcomed the lad in. He showed him where to tie up his horse and then helped him to unsaddle the steed and rub him down. Some oats and water were put out. That would care for the horse all day.

 

      “Well, Selkirk,” said Jim.” I thought I would start you off by showing you how to mix a proper batch or mortar for the bricks.” He then emptied the mortar mix onto a pile. He shoveled a portion into the wheel barrow and added dirt and lime. After stirring the mix for a time, he said.

 

       “Now, we are ready to proceed.”

 

        Carrying an armful of bricks inside the perimeter of the building, he set them down. “Now lad, here is how we get started.” He laid down a coating of mortar on the cement floor and placed one brick in it. Then he did so with another and another. Ay each step, he troweled off the excess mortar until the seam was both well-defined and neat in appearance.

 

        “This is the hard part, lad,” said Jim. “If you don’t get a straight and true line down the course of bricks, the layers on top of them will be crooked and the job ruined. Now, why don’t you try laying in bricks for a bit, while I go and dig some more clay from the river bank.”

 

     Selkirk knelt down and slowly at first, seated every brick in a mortar bed, making sure it was lined up with those laid before it, cleaned the seams so they appeared neatly.

 

      Jim was digging clay along the river bank and settling each load in the pile of clay near the building. Every thirty minutes or so, he would stop and inspect Selkirk’s work.  He tapped a brick here and one there and shaved off any excess mortar left on them.

 

     “That’s a pretty good start, Selkirk. Why don’t I take over for a spell and you can dig some clay on the river bank?”

 

     Jim and Selkirk settled in working in this manner for several hours, until Jim called a halt for lunch. He had a sack of food and beer from Lowry’s to feed them.

 

     “Is it your first venture in laying brick, Selkirk?” asked Jim.

 

       “It is, Mr. Mc Adams,” said Selkirk. “I am grateful for the opportunity.”

 

        “And we are glad to have you, Selkirk,” said Jim. “ We can use the extra set of hands.”

 

        “I think we will leave a large opening  in the front studs for the central door of the factory” said Jim. “Then, we can cut the studs to fit windows on the river side and at the ends of the building. When we really get the place rolling, the air will be filled with dirt and clay. We will need all of the ventilation we can get. I can ask the iron monger to fashion metal hinges for all of those openings. ”

          “While you lay another row of bricks, I will mix up another batch of clay for the brick molds,” said Jim. “In this way, we will always have bricks to lay when we come here on the weekends.”

 

           “Do they really harden so fast,” asked Selkirk.

 

           “Aye, after a week, the water had leeched out of them. Thereafter, they are ready for laying in. The longer they sit, the harder they get. These bricks will last for a hundred years or more, “said Jim.

 

           “And are they ready for the kiln?,” asked a curious Selkirk.

 

           “ No, the fire hardened bricks have to be water-free, lest the flames set them off, like a bomb in the kiln. We will have to wait until we erect the kiln, to dry out each batch and then  fire-ready those special bricks. They will have a smoother finish and a slight sheen to their surface. We will get a lot more money for that product," said  Jim. He and Selkirk were already bonding, as two workmen on a site always do. It was a brotherhood of sweat and toil that made each appreciate the other.

 

Meanwhile, several miles to the west, Ian Macadam had saddled up  two horses that he and Laura would ride up to Stanley Park. Laura had to finish her work at Lowry’s for the morning rush. Ian was waiting outside for her as she emerged around Eleven O’clock that morning.

.

“And a good morning to you, Laura,”  said Ian with a big smile. “Are you ready to go for a ride?”

 

“I am, Ian. Let’s head on up.” She mounted her horse and turned the nag, with a practiced swing, to face Ian.

 

“Can you handle that steed?” asked Ian. Laura smiled back at him. “Do you know that post just in from the park?” she asked innocently.

 

“I do,” said Ian. “Then, I will race you to that opening of the park,” she said, with a mischievous smile. Then, Laura dug her heels into the beasts side and hollered’ “Yoh, get on boy,” and took off with a rush.

 

Ian, momentarily taken aback, watched her gallop off ahead of him. Then, he too goaded his horse and urged him onwards. The two riders loped effortlessly up towards the opening of Stanley Park. Ian tried mightily, but Laura beat him to the post.

 

“Did you have some trouble getting her going? “ asked Laura provocatively, with a smirk.

 

“No, he did what he could to catch you, Laura,” said Ian ”You were too fast for him.” He smiled at the attractive young snip that had just beaten him in a horse race.

 

“Let’s take a slow canter up the bridle path, Laura.” Said Ian. “We’ve no need to get to the top right away.”

 

The two riders rode slowly up the bridle path, stopping now and then to admire the brilliant  colors of the fall leaves. They were acutely aware of each other’s presence and happy with the thought of it.

 

As they neared the top of the park, Ian reigned in his mount and dismounted. He helped Laura down and said, “We are near the Pulpit. Let’s settle in and enjoy the view.”

 

They tied their horse’s reins to a tree and then unpacked their picnic gear. Laura had assembled a small feast from Lowry’s stock. They spread out a blanket and sat down to drink a bottle of cool water.

 

“It is a grand view from up here, is it not?” asked Ian.

 

“It is, Ian. We have often come here to enjoy the park when we had time off,” said, Laura. “After mom and dad passed on, Peter and I made the best of things. Selkirk joining us only added to the fun of the mix.”

 

“Aye, I know the feeling”  said Ian. “When I first arrived in Vancouver and saw Jim, it was a wonderful feeling to know that one of your own was there to take you in. This is one of the first places Jim showed me.”

 

“And is it the brickyard you are both committed to building,” asked Laura.

 

“We are, Laura. My dad and his brothers built a brickyard in Bristol and have worked it these many years,” said Ian.

 

“And why did you and Jim leave, then? “asked Laura.

 

“Well, Jim had a disagreement with the constabulary,” said Ian. “ The family thought it best if he changed his work venue. I followed Jim west after a bit, hoping to reunite with him and double our prospects.”

 

“The two of you get on well,” observed Laura.

 

“Aye, we do. I have great admiration for brother James,” Ian said thoughtfully.

 

“And what plans have you, Laura?” Ian asked pointedly.

 

“Well, Peter works in construction. Some day he will take in a wife and start a family. John Lowry took me in to work at his place. I guess I haven’t thought much about the future lately,” said Laura. “That is, until I met you,” she said with an earnest gaze.

 

Ian was moved by the girl’s simple sincerity. “And I had no thoughts like that, until I met you Laura,” said Ian. The two young people held hands and looked into each other’s eyes, enjoying the ardor of the moment.

 

With some other young people, their hormones might well have propelled them into a closer embrace. But, these two lovers were raised in a strict moral environment. They didn’t need a chaperone. They both had one inside their heads.

 

They talked intimately of their affections and their hopes for the future. Eating their food and drinking a cool glass of beer kept them grounded. They watched the sun start to settle over the Pacific. Then, they mounted their horse and rode slowly home, aware of the feelings that they had expressed and with a glow in their hearts with what would hopefully come next. It had been a perfect day in the park for both of them.

 

Back in Vancouver, they unsaddled their mounts. Ian rubbed them both down and hung up their tack, as they made plans for their next outing. He walked Laura home and said a fond good night.

 

When he arrived back at Jim’s place, he was in a mild fog, thinking of the sweet girl he had just left. Jim filled him in on what he and Selkirk had accomplished that day. It had been a very good day for both of them.

 

                                             -30-

                                         (1,867 words)

                                     Joseph Xavier Martin