My son Richard suggested this Blog and said it needed that title because, ever since it happened it has remained such a traumatic event in his memory. This is how it happened.
A few years following my start as officer in charge at Fort Battleford National Historic Site, my responsibility had expanded into interest in historic sites in the area: other out-posts of the North West Mounted Police, early settlers they dealt with and settlements, earlier yet fur trade posts and so on. I had studied David Thompson’s survey of the area of the North Saskatchewan River west of Battleford and was not in agreement with the writing of a prominent historian, that Thompson was wrong in where he had found the ruins of Umfreville’s Post, which at the time of intense competition, had the advantage of being the farthest west. I knew the location where Thompson’s survey placed it was on the flat land, right side of the river, a short distance from the Deerfoot Ferry crossing, south of Frenchman Butte.
I was invited to Frenchman Butte to see a collection of historical artifacts, so one summer day, I decided to take my family along to have a look at that collection, held by a local resident. That being done early in the afternoon, the local collector said he had something else to show, which was a short distance
down the way I wanted to go. He took his son along and guided us to the spot to see his “mystery site”;
but that’s another story. I thought I would take Garry, Susan and Richard with me, for a hike through the woods, taking a short-cut from the road where Dorothy, with baby Gwen, would wait in the vehicle. I expected to be able to see the flat land, now a farm field, from the higher ground above the flat, with the railway along between field and woods.
It was not an easy walk through thick woods and under-growth and Richard, the littlest, got tired and did not want to continue. As usual, I wanted to finish what I had started to do. We had come to a bit of a clearing in which there was a hillock. I told the three to sit on that hill and wait until I came back and we would return to the vehicle.
Well! – it took longer than expected for me to take a quick view of the flat, and I had become quite anxious about those small children waiting in the strange, scary woods and I returned running, sweating, with branches slapping my face. Finally I reached the hill and — no children to be found, Was that not the spot they were left? I felt sure it was. I searched around to see if they had found something of interest off the hill, or maybe were hiding, playing a trick on me. I shouted but no answer came. Oh well, I suppose Garry had decided they could find their way back to the car, so I hurried back. We had been gone long enough that Dorothy had become quite anxious and as soon as she saw me break out of the woods called, “where are the kids?”. Then things got very concerning because it was getting quite late in the day and our children had to be found before dark.
Our calling and searching nearby, driving back and forth on the road, blowing the car horn and shouting, produced no results. We decided we would need to have people in Frenchman Butte organize a search so alerted them of the requirement, then went for another drive down the road toward the river. As we broke out to where we could see onto the flat, there were three little figures walking on the railway tracks, toward the road. What a great relief that was for us!! But Garry said he was never lost; he knew where the railway was and got tired of waiting for me and persuaded the other two, to go on rather than wait and walk back to the car. We had missed each other as I rushed back through the woods to the empty hill. We gathered up the kids, went back to Frenchman Butte to tell that kids were found and drove home, thankful for a day that ended well, but with unforgettable memories. I’m not sure that Richard has yet forgiven me for having abandoned him in the woods.
Oh Yes, sometime later, on a nice spring day, I did go back, alone, and went to the farm home on that flat. I asked if there were any stones in that field. He said it was kind of odd that it was clear of stones with the exception of one small spot where there were a lot of them that kept coming to the surface. I asked if he would mind if I took a shovel and went out to that spot, because I thought it might be the long ago site of a fur trade post. The field had been cultivated, readied for planting, so soil could be replaced and all restored with no harm done. That was quite acceptable to him.
I found the spot of smaller, broken stones, picked one up and saw it had been heated and smoke stained. Digging down almost two feet, in a most likely spot, there was a very visible hearth with ashes and bird bones. I could visualize a fur-clad trader chewing the leg meat off from a goose leg and tossing the bone into the fireplace. I have no doubt at all, that is the site of Umfreville’s post right where Thompson said it was.
Hi all, Susan here. Rich and I spent some time remembering this incident. Funny that when I asked Garry about it he seemed to remember less than I did and with a few differences. Rich and I did also remember a few other times our Dad “abandoned” us. Once, he dumped the three of us on the side of the road, Gwen was to little. He says because we were fighting and on a long trip there is only so much one can put up with. Mm hmm. Once, I was left in the church basement in the dark and ended up running down the street after the departing cars. Rich also remembered once when Gwen was left in a gas station bathroom. That might be all but how can you tell. It was a long time ago that we were as little as we are on the Christmas card below and even tramatic memories fade with time.
