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Updated: June 9, 2025
“She sat down on the draw-side, out of sight of the house. ‘He’s run away from me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he ever meant to marry me.’ “‘You mean he’s thrown up his job and quit the country?’ says I. “‘He did n’t have any job. He’d been fired; blacklisted for knocking down fares. I did n’t know. I thought he had n’t been treated right. He was sick when I got there.
There he would sit down on the draw-side and help her watch her cattle. All the settlement was talking about it. The Norwegian preacher’s wife went to Lena and told her she ought not to allow this; she begged Lena to come to church on Sundays. Lena said she had n’t a dress in the world any less ragged than the one on her back.
“There was never any harm in Ole,” she said once. “People need n’t have troubled themselves. He just liked to come over and sit on the draw-side and forget about his bad luck. I liked to have him. Any company’s welcome when you’re off with cattle all the time.” “But was n’t he always glum?” I asked. “People said he never talked at all.” “Sure he talked, in Norwegian.
If his sisters or their friends happened to be among the onlookers on “popular nights,” Sylvester stood back in the shadow under the cottonwood trees, smoking and watching Lena with a harassed expression. Several times I stumbled upon him there in the dark, and I felt rather sorry for him. He reminded me of Ole Benson, who used to sit on the draw-side and watch Lena herd her cattle.
As the hole was narrow and dark, the cow held back, and the old woman was slapping and pushing at her hind quarters, trying to spank her into the draw-side. Grandfather ignored her singular occupation and greeted her politely. “Good-morning, Mrs. Shimerda. Can you tell me where I will find Ambrosch? Which field?”
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