Chapter 2: The Medicine Show

Well, Chapter One seemed to underwhelm the readers. Let's see if Chapter 2 merits a response.

Pa came in from the fields about sun down. He walked stiff, his body bent over like he was in great pain. "We got any of that arnica liniment left, Hon? I think I really pulled something this time."

"Lie down on the table, Walter, and I'll see what we have left in the medicine cabinet," Ma told him. She came right back and said, "There's just this tiny bit left, dear. I'll rub it on."

Pa took off his shirt and lay face down on the kitchen table. It was long enough to seat ten. I could see the knotted muscles in the small of his back. His arms were hanging off the sides of the table. "By God I hurt."

"Walter Hansen, there will be no swearing in my house." No matter how hurt a person might be, it was no excuse to use profanity in my mother's house. She was stiff and unbending about some things. At times it was hard to recognize this rigid woman as the same quick to laugh person my Ma was when no "bad words" were used in her presence.

Pa didn't answer as he tried to find a comfortable position. Ma poured the strong smelling potion on his back and began to rub it in. She massaged and kneaded his muscles until the knotting disappeared. "Oh lordy it feels better. You have until the middle of next week to stop rubbing." Ma didn't say anything; she just smiled and kept working all of Pa's back muscles. She kept it up until her hands were too tired to continue.

"You quit already? I swear I think you're getting' weak on me Hon." The ridged muscles in his belly swelled as he rolled over and sat up in one easy motion. He reached out a big dirt-stained arm and hugged her close to him and kissed her on the cheek. "You're my favorite girl."

She smiled back and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "You're my favorite man, for sure." I hated it when they got all mushy like this. I always felt left out. They seemed to go into a little world of their own where only the two of them fit in. At the same time I knew those antics were a part of the things, which made my parents so special.

They had the ability to openly express their love for each without being gushy about it. I followed Pa as he slowly headed back outside. He had left the horses ground hitched by the back door when he came inside to have Ma work on his back. "Ground hitched" means is the horses were trained to stop and not move when the reins were dropped. It was common practice to teach horses in those days to stop and wait if the reins touched the ground. This way, if a man became incapacitated or injured, his horse wouldn't step on him or walk off and leave him.

"Let me help, Pa," I said to him. There really wasn't much I could do because all the heavy harness was still more than I could handle with ease. Also, our workhorses were Percherons. Big Boy, our stud, stood over eighteen hands high across the withers, the highest part of a horse's body. Our five mares were all over sixteen hands high. There was no way at all I could unharness them without tangling the leathers up in a mess even if I got them lifted down off their backs.

"I'll take the harness off and you can help me drag it into the tack room. Then I want you to take them on down and turn them out into the pasture," he told me. He was still stiff and moved bent over a little, as he favored his injured back. Back injuries were always the most common "minor" injuries on a farm. A person learned to accommodate pulled muscles and injured disks. Many older farmers walked stoop shouldered for that reason. There were so many small injuries through the years. Pa pulled the bridles off and handed me the lead ropes. The horses still had their halters on.

I held them while Pa laboriously removed the harnesses from the horses and hung them up on the heavy pegs in our tack room, a small lean-to shed right outside the big double doors of the barn.

I led the two big animals away and when I opened the pasture gate, they followed me on through. The great gentle beasts lowered their heads down to my level so I could unhook the lead ropes. Then, as soon as the ropes were off them, they snuffled and snorted and shook their heads to celebrate their freedom from restraint. They slowly walked over to the water tanks to drink

When I got back, Pa was in the house again, lying on the table. This time Ma was rubbing "Doctor Doogan's Horse Liniment (Good for man or beast.)" into his back. His back was still hurting him a lot. "We're out of "Sloan's Liniment" and this is the last of the Doogan's concoction," Ma told him. "You got it all on your back, Walter."

"The traveling medicine show will be in Fairview next Saturday." Pa said, referring to Sam Doogan's medicine show. "Maybe we can go see his show and stock again. It is some real powerful smelling stuff he sells, but it does the trick. That salve of his works plenty good on cuts too."

Ma had her lips pursed thinly. "If he has a hootchy cootchy dancer again this year, David and I shall stay away. And I don't want you hanging around one minute longer than it takes to buy some liniment. You know I do not abide with the shameless spectacle of an unclothed woman parading herself before men. It isn't moral or decent."

"Sweetheart, you know you look just like a little song bird gettin' ready to peck some grain when you pucker your mouth up like now?" Pa grinned at her, "Besides, you're so much prettier than any dancing woman, I been almost tempted to buy you some spangles to wear around the house just like the woman had on. I didn't notice her very much. Besides I never even saw those pink tights she was wearing. Yup, you'd look mighty fancy in tights cooking breakfast." I snickered at the thought of seeing Ma doing housework dressed in spangles and tights.

Pa knew just how to jolly Ma out of her self-righteousness when it got to be too much for him. She wiped her mouth as she tried to keep from grinning, but she grinned anyway. She acted as if she didn't like it when he told her she was more eye pleasing than a hooch dancer, but she did. In fact, she liked it a lot.

The following Saturday evening, as soon as the milking was out of the way and the hogs were slopped, we headed into Fairview. Ma didn't make us any supper because we were going to splurge and "eat out." To me it meant a hamburger complete with cheese and tomato and fried onions and dill pickles so sour they would make a statue pucker. Of course I would have my heavily salted French fries dipped in mustard.

Ma, as always, ordered the meat loaf and said after the first bite, "Mine's better." Pa usually ordered a chicken fried steak, potatoes and gravy. Maybe we weren't very adventurous, but we were consistent. Besides, what boy in his right mind would order anything else if he had his choice of a hamburger and fries? However, back then we didn't have pizza in those days.

Fairview was a small town with only a town marshal. He also doubled as the sheriff's deputy. He drew two small paychecks and made enough to live on. Lester Green was a nice old man who had to be the unlikeliest policeman you could ever meet. He stood five and a half feet tall and was as wide as he was high in all directions. He got the job because his farm lost it's little remaining topsoil and he was cousin to the sheriff. It was said about his farm, "You couldn't raise a crop of rattlesnakes on it."

We were sitting in a booth at the New York Café when old Lester came in and greeted my folks. "What brings you into town this evening? Y'all come to take in the traveling medicine show?"

"We ran out of the liniment Sam Doogan peddles," Pa said. "It works so good on stock animals and my back, I thought I had better get some while he's still in the area."