To the Oil Fields

There were in Austin’s mind grave doubts as to his being able to manage the children in town. They could not be trusted to do the right thing in his absence, and would be constantly bringing themselves into reproach. That his father could manage them better was doubtful, but it was easier when his father was there. In those days of discouragement Austin was near giving up. But the heaviest load will sometime be lifted, and Austin felt his heart grow more light when he received a letter from his father, saying he had obtained work that suited him and had a house ready for the children as soon as they should come to him.

“Why not make the children ready and send them to him and you stay on with your work?” whispered the tempter, and the suggestion sounded good to Austin. But again came the vision of his mother and her desire that he keep the children together. He pitied the poor little things to be left to the mercies of their careless father. He was fast losing all respect for his parent, and he could not bear to let him neglect his mother’s precious children.

Again it fell to Austin’s lot to make ready for moving; but this time there was no Uncle John to take the oversight. The furniture was to be packed and sent as well as the bedding and clothes. It was a big undertaking, but was finally accomplished. It was with a feeling of relief that Austin left his grandfather’s village. His experience with the welfare officer had been too great a humiliation to be soon forgotten.

The town to which his father brought them was full of excitement over an oil boom, and men were making money fast and spending it just as fast. It was a gathering-place for loafers and gamblers, sin and wickedness abounding on every hand.

Mr. Hill was not located in the town, but had care of engines which kept pumps going out on the field. He was to have a house near his work after a while, but for the present he had a house five miles away. The country was wild and the neighbors few, and Austin saw that he would not be bothered with his children wandering among the neighbors here. That was a consolation, though he grieved to have them so far from a good school.

True to his impulses Austin found work as soon as he was settled in the new home. This time he hired to the farmers who had not all their fall work done yet. When he could no longer get work among them, he was compelled to remain at home, for he would not go away where he could not keep in touch with the children. But there was plenty to do at home. They wished to farm the next year, and he could prepare the ground this fall; besides, he obtained the privilege of clearing a certain piece of ground for the posts he could get from it. The sale of these posts brought in something, though not so much as if he had been working for wages.

It seemed especially necessary that he be at home with the children at night, for his father was often gone till late and then came home partly under the influence of drink. Austin knew that the children needed his protection.

“Austin,” said his father in a surly tone one morning, “why are you lying around home all the time? Why do you not get out and make some money? I have enough to support without doing for you.”

“I cannot get any work near enough to be at home nights with the children. Besides I am working at those posts,” was his answer.

“There is no need of your thinking you must be at home at night. The girls do the work anyway, and you could just as well get out and make something. Go hire yourself to one of the ranchmen along the river. Have some ambition and try to do something for yourself.”

How these unkind words stung Austin! He was angry, vowing to himself that if that was all the thanks he was to receive for keeping the ends of the family together he would get out and make money.

That afternoon he visited two or three of the ranchmen, offering himself as a workhand; but when they observed how young he looked, each one asked concerning his age. When they heard that he was but fourteen, they said their work was too heavy for a boy.

“Did you get yourself a job?” asked his father that evening.

“No, sir; no one would hire me because I am so young.”

“Why did you tell them your age! They would have believed you if you had said you were seventeen.”

“But I am not seventeen, and I do not like to tell what is untrue.”

“You like an excuse to lie around home. I am getting tired of it, and mean you shall get out and hustle. Do you hear me?”

There had been a few rainy days just before this outbreak of his father’s, and Austin had been in the house. But the next morning was sunny, and Austin was again at his chopping, and no more was said till another rainy spell. Then his father attacked him even more roughly, demanding that he get out and find work at once. Austin bore these insults as best he could because of his unwillingness to desert the family.

One Saturday night the father did not come home. After the children were in bed Austin sat up with a queer chill of anxiety in his heart. Something was amiss he was certain, for this was payday. He had no doubt but that his father was drinking and gambling with the other fellows in the little town or, worse yet, had gone with some of them down the track a dozen miles to the county seat. If this were true, he would come home without a cent and be even more angry with Austin for not earning wages.

At last Austin lay down and fell asleep, and he did not waken till daylight. Seeing that his father’s bed was not occupied, he knew his worst fears were realized and that his father was in trouble somewhere. The engines needed attention, and if they were neglected his father might lose his job, then where should they be? Touching Harry, who lay at his side, he said, “Harry, wake up and get ready to go with me to see about the engines; Papa did not come home last night, and we shall have to tend them. Amy, Nell, get up and fix us boys some breakfast and a lunch, for we shall have to see about the engines. Papa is not home yet.” Hurrying into his clothes, he went out to feed and harness Old Ben, the white horse, which would pull them to the engines.

Two hours later the boys were off in a little open buggy behind poky Old Ben. A cold, drizzling rain was coming down, which wet and chilled them through and through, yet the boys journeyed with light hearts, for so buoyant are the spirits of youth that they can rise above the most unfavorable circumstances. They laughed and sang as the old horse ambled along.

At the first well Austin found the engine still, but with little Harry’s help it was soon started.

The second engine, though, would not go. The boys worked with it till they were exhausted, but their efforts were without avail. Some little thing was wrong which neither of them knew how to remedy. As they stepped to the door of the shed to rest a little, to their surprise they heard the sound of voices. They were off from the main road a long way, and in a part of the country where they hardly expected to see anyone on this rainy day. Looking in the direction from which the voices came, they saw two men approaching, driving a single horse. At closer range one of the men proved to be their father, and he was in a maudlin condition, reeling back and forth as the buggy bumped along. They could hear the men’s voices in ribald laughter and singing. When they were near the building, Mr. Hill climbed clumsily out of the rig, and Austin tried to tell him what the difficulty was.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” he mumbled, “shoon have it fixed.” Reeling as he walked, he went into the shed that sheltered the engine. The boys followed him, and while his mind was clear enough to adjust the engine, his legs were not steady enough to hold him up, and his boys had to hold him to keep him from falling into the machinery while he repaired the engine. It seemed to Austin at this time that he utterly despised his father. He wondered if he could ever feel toward this reeling, staggering, evil-minded man as a son should feel toward a father. Again came the thought of the children and what it would mean to leave them to him. He would not leave them so long as his father would permit him to remain under the home roof.

Before the hard, cold winter came, they moved into the house near his father’s work. It was a lonely place with only a small yard cleared in the brush, and was as desolate a location as one could imagine. Yet the house rang with the laughter of the children, whose changing fortune had not chilled their merry hearts.

Thanksgiving passed as any other day, only that the children spoke of their mother oftener than usual. Even they wondered at all the changes which had come to them since the last Thanksgiving.

There was much damp weather, and Austin was unable to work much in the woods. So every day was made dark with the taunts and threats of his father. Sometimes it seemed to him that he could not stand it another day. He longed to get away, to be forever free from the presence of his father, but he could not leave the children. What would become of them if he did? Very well he knew that in less than six months they would be scattered here and yonder, some of them to be abused and mistreated.

His father’s insulting manner was bearing fruit in the children, and they were no longer submissive. It seemed to Austin that he had failed entirely.