Emma Louise learns how to drive a team of horses; but they don't cooperate.

Bringing Home the Binder

“Before I went to Tennessee after you, Emma Louise, I was at a sale over north of town and bought a binder and a few other things. We ought to go and get the binder. The rye will be ripe enough to cut in a few days, and soon after that the wheat.” Jimmy pushed his chair back from the breakfast table as he spoke. “Do you suppose you could go with me this morning?” he asked.

“Why, I think so, Jimmy. How soon do you want to start?” Emma Louise decided the ironing could wait until tomorrow.

“In about half an hour,” Jimmy answered. “I have to harness two teams. Can you be ready then?”

“Sure,” Emma Louise skipped about the table, stacking the dishes. “I’ll just pile these in the dish-pan, and brush up the crumbs, and rinse the separator, and cover it with a cloth, and change my dress. Yes, I can be ready in half an hour.”

“O.K.,” said Jimmy, going out the door.

At the appointed time, clad in a fresh gingham dress, Emma Louise climbed nimbly into the wagon and sat down on the seat beside Jimmy.

Why do we have another team tied on behind?” the inquisitive girl wanted to know.

“So we can hitch one team to the binder to fetch it home, you goose,” Jimmy answered. “That’s where you come in. I forgot to ask you if you can drive a team. One of us rides in the wagon and the other rides on the binder.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, I think I can drive a team. At least I can drive one horse, are two much different?”

“A little,” Jimmy answered. “But I guess you’ll make out.”

“Let me drive Nell and Beauty now, with you right here to watch,” Emma Louise urged.

Jimmy handed her the lines and they jogged along in silence for some time, Jimmy looking back now and then to see if the other horses were still there.

It was a beautiful morning, meadow-larks caroled beside the road, and now and then a prairie hen was seen strutting about a hay-field.

Once a cotton tail rabbit sprang from behind a tuft of grass and scampered so near to Beauty that she shied to the side of the road; and of course, Nell followed suit. Emma Louise jerked first on one rein and then on the other. The horses jumped to the other side of the road, and Jimmy just sat and let them jump.

“Pull up on both reins, Emma Lou, and guide them gently back to the middle of the road,” he suggested. “Don’t get scared.”

“Here, I’ll take ‘em now,” Jimmy said, after Emma Louise had the mare going quietly along the road again. “You look tired and hot.”

By the time Jimmy and Emma Louise reached the Marshall Clinton home it was noon, the travelers were hot and thirsty, also tired of sitting on the backless wagon seat. This farm was located in the high, level table land west and north from town. Standing in the wagon to stretch her muscles, Emma Louise could see in all directions for miles. The landscape lay spread round about her like a huge map.

“Howdy,” said Marshall Clinton, tall, lean, and gray-haired; who had come from Missouri and before that from the mountains of Tennessee. “Git out and set a while. Reckon the missus has dinner purty near ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Mrs. Clinton, coming to the door. “Dinner’s ready now. You all like corn bread? We allus have corn bread wash days, and this here’s wash day. Lay off your hat so’s to cool your head.”

The words had tumbled so swiftly from the lips of the tall, angular woman that Emma Louise scarcely knew what to reply. So she removed her hat and asked for a drink of water.

“Sure, you kin. Here, Lizbeth, go down cellar and fetch Mrs. Blank a drink of water. You see,” Mrs. Clinton continued, “I allus keep some down cellar in a jug to cool off. Hit’s so warm right out the well.”

“Is your well deep?” Emma Louise asked. I see you have an engine to pump the water.”

“Yes, we have a engine. Some have windmills, but our’n is too deep to pump with a windmill, so we have a engine. Hit’s so deep the water’s that warm hit ain’t good till I keep it down cellar a spell to cool it off. How deep is the well, ma‘am? Hit’s a little more’n a thousand feet.”

The corn bread was good, the baked beans and the fried ham were good and so was the apple pie; and Jimmy and Emma Louise were hungry, so they did not have any difficulty putting away their part of the meal.

After dinner they all sat on the porch and visited a while, giving the horses plenty of time to enjoy their repast.

When the men brought the teams out, ready to start the homeward trip, Nell and Beauty were hitched to the binder, Dolly and Madge to the wagon which was loaded with ‘the few other things.’

“You take the wagon, Emma Lou, and I’ll take the binder,” Jimmy called.

“That’s fine, now,” said Marshall Clinton, “To have a woman what kin drive a team? Take my woman there, a team run away with her onct, and ever since, —”

“That will just do now,” Mrs. Clinton interrupted. “Never you mind, dearie, you’ll git home fust rate.”

Thus encouraged, Emma Louise took her seat and picked up the lines. She clucked to the horses and they started, with a jerk. Jimmy, on the binder, brought up the rear.

All went well for several miles, until Dolly, who possessed a stubborn streak, refused to cross a small draw which was rather rough going. However, Emma Louise coaxed and threatened, threatened and coaxed, until Dolly decided to walk gingerly across, just as the rear team came up behind them.

A few miles farther, halfway up a long steep hill, Dolly balked again; she apparently meant business this time. No amount of coaxing or threatening, or even using the whip could persuade her to proceed.

Jimmy waited with his team at the foot of the hill until he saw that Dolly absolutely refused to move, and the wagon was beginning to roll back down hill, then he jumped off the binder and placed a large stone under one of the rear wagon wheels. Another stone under the other wheel and the wagon, with its heavy load, was safe. He then unhitched Dolly and Madge, fastened Nell and Beauty in their places, and drove on up the hill to a comparatively level spot.

Then Jimmy unhitched Nell and Beauty and hooked Dolly and Madge back on the wagon. Emma Louise had brought them up the hill ‘empty’ without any trouble at all; Emma Louise again settled herself upon the wagon seat, and the contrary little mare walked along as nicely as could be. Jimmy rehitched his team and started once more to bring up the rear.

All went well this time until a short steep hill a short distance from their own barnyard was reached. Here Dolly again refused to move on.

Emma Louise tried coaxing, threatening, whipping, to no avail; Dolly would not budge. Jimmy, heartily disgusted this time, and thinking the mare had already been humored enough, laid on the lash.

He whipped her with the long lines, thoroughly and completely. “Now go, darn you,” he exclaimed. And Dolly went. Straight on up the hill and through the gate she went, past the barn, not stopping until Emma Louise very emphatically told her to stop beside the tool shed door.

“Home at last,” Emma Louise cried, “Wowie, what a trip.”

Hot, tired, dusty and thirsty, she still had pep enough to spring from the wagon and run to open a gate so Jimmy could drive the binder into a corner of the rye field.

“Well, you got home ‘fust rate’ Emma Louise, in spite of everything,” Jimmy teased. “No run away. You may become a good farmer’s wife yet.”

“Thanks, Mister, I expect to qualify some day, but right now I am interested in a drink of water and something to eat.”