--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Peay, Ida Stewart collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 20 number: 6 published: 1917-04 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Ida Stewart Peay, "Putting Mother on the Shelf: A Story," *Improvement Era* 20, no. 6 (April 1917): 527–534.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2006unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2006unse start_page: 527 end_page: 534 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1917-04) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2006unse publication_year: 1917 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1917, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Putting Mother on the Shelf: A Story 528 IMPROVEMENT ERA tween the two young people, grandmother was entertaining them with quaint and wise remarks from the rich experience of her long past. Like many another person of rugged character she was gracious and gentle and in a trice this alluring combination had won the sympathy of the susceptible school girl. "Jim has just told me that you have been a widow for forty years," the young woman marveled with eager, enquiring eyes. "Yes," mused the elderly lady, "at thirty-five I was left with ten children." "Dear me," emotionalized the visitor, "and you had to be father and mother both to that great crowd!" "That's it," nodded Mother Nile, "but mostly father"—she — smiled whimscially "with seven sons and a big farm to manage." "To be sure," Jim's sweetheart laughed softly but added, sobering, "it must have been, oh, so hard." — "Well, I found out a thing or two about everything," — owned grandmother modestly, then with an excusable note of pride, "my sons didn't have to go away from home to learn — farming and the handling of horses I saw to that. They come to me to this day. Why, before my sickness — ." At this moment something interrupted her speech, she straightened in her chair her fine old eyes sparkling: "Humph, here comes Charles with his new horses," she cried with lively interest. "I heard he'd been buying a span." Her son was approaching in a light rig drawn by two handsome bay colts. When even with the house he made a flourishing gesture with his left arm which said plainly enough, "Look quick, everybody, watch 'em trot!" — Everybody obeyed particularly his old mother who eagerly stood up and studied the speeders with the closest scrutiny. Three times Charles Nile drove proudly by, then he turned down the lane to the house, stopping alongside the broad veranda. "Hello, mother," he shouted, "mighty glad to see you out taking notice of things again." He waved his hand at her, and Rachel Nile nodded a smiling acknowledgment. But that Charles' interest was entirely bound up in his new buy was evidenced by his next remark which he addressed—to his son. "Jim, how do you like the bays?" he asked with a broad grin, clearly as pleased as a small boy with a red wagon. Keeping his father waiting, manlike, until he had formed from careful observation an opinion worth expressing, Jim took his grandmother and the young lady along with him to the edge, of the porch for the necessary closer view. When the man asked hts son (instead of his mother) to pass judgment on his im- — portant purchase, no one saw unless it was the understanding — PUTTING MOTHER ON THE SHELF 529 little high school girl, which made it all the more bitter to — Rachel Nile the shade of pained disappointment and chagrin pass over the lady's furrowed countenance. She had fallen from her seat of grace! While her son and grandson discussed the merits of the splendid animals she sighed to herself, "time was when Charles thought I was a pretty good judge of horse flesh. Guess he thinks I'm too old to know one critter from another, now." With wounded pride she stood, tall and silent, determined not to intrude her opinions, while the three others chatted on. Presently, though, force of habit got the better of her resolve when Charles declared these bays would make the best trotters the ranch had ever owned since Fan's day. "Pshaw no," she contradicted, impulsively, then caught herself. "Why, mother," chided her son quickly, "you don't know how these fellows can go. Why, their sire has a record equal to our old Fan's. But none of Fan's colts can keep up with these chaps." ("Fan's colts" had been a pass word in horse lines about here for the last decade, Fan having taken the state record for trotting and bringing her owners when sold a cool four thousand dollars. ) "I haven't thought of putting either of those fellows in the south pasture on the track, though they're swift they are Fan's colts." "I know they're Fan's colts," scorned Mother Nile, "I could pick one of Fan's colts out of a circus ring with my eyes shut! But there's one animal there, a little older than these mares, sort of a brown and big boned, that will outtrot them." "Link?" asked Jim; his grandmother nodded. — "Link?" the horse had been respectfully christened Lincoln but the press of convenience had abridged his famous — cognomen "Link do you mean?" echoed Charles. "Never, never! Link's all right. Link's a dandy, but these bays are faster. I've been training them for two months and they're coming on fine." Mother Nile urged her ideas no further, but quietly announced, "I'd like to buy Link." "Buy Link?" roared her son astonished, "what for?" "To drive," said Mother Nile. "Why, mother," her gray-haired boy just laughed, scoffing good naturedly, "you don't want a horse like Link. He's too much of a high stepper for you, now. What you want, now, is a littlepony, some quiet old plug you'd be perfectly safe with. Fact, don't see what you want a horse at all for. Some of us going to town every day and we'd be glad to take you along." "You go when you want to go," Mother Nile told her son, 530 IMPROVEMENT ERA in a quiet tone, though defiance lurked in her bright, old eyes "I'm going when I want to. What will you take for Link?" — "O he's worth a couple of hundred any day but he'd never, — never do for you, mother he's not a woman's horse." Charles lifted the lines, and his colts pranced off. "I'll look you up a — — nag" he called back "if you're bound to have one, I can find a quiet plug, all right." Mother Nile could hardly get through the day with Jim's sweetheart — before whom she felt irredeemably lowered and — Charles' rollicking family, for her old heart was bursting with sorrow and indignation. Home at last, she faced the changed order of things dismally. "They think it's time to put mother on the shelf," she sobbed in the agony of the hopelessness that racks the masterful when they first sense their declining power. To be sure, she had just recovered a six months' illness which had necessitated her selling and distributing her cows and horses among her sons so that now a little milk was brought to her door, and she was to ride to town with her daughters-in-law. The past month, however, and especially the last week, she had recovered so remarkably that this morning she had felt sure she could tie the broken r.trands of her life and be her old, wonderful self again. In spite of her returning vigor it appeared they had relegated her to the past. — Charles' awful words spoke volumes "What you want — — now is an old plug Link's not a woman's horse." A woman's horse, pshaw! as if she had not raised and handled a dozen like Link, and driven thoroughbreds all her life. Indeed, who in the county had ever been able to pass Rachel Nile on the highway! How quickly people forget! Now she should drive a poky old plow-dragger Her proud spirit found expression in tumultuous ! sobs for a few despairing moments. But then she was not a crying woman and anyway something caught her eye, as her glance wandered absently out of the little kitchen window, that brought her up straight in her chair. In an instant she was calm. The light of a bright idea gleamed from her fading eyes. A sly, inward delight flickered or her pale, pink lips for a second, before the mouth settled into its habitual firm lines, in which was shadowed a determination as strong as any that had guided her purposeful, pioneer life. She was on her feet at once attending to the business of the new thought. A long, brown duster was taken from its own individual hook and hurriedly donned, a little bread and lump sugar was hastily thrust into its yawning pockets; in the old storm-colored granary outside, a nose-bag was soon discovered and deftly filled from the grain bins near at hand; then, with a swift glance PUTTING MOTHER ON THE SHELF 531 at Charles' home to assure herself the family were still on the front veranda where she had left them entertaining their guest, Mother Nile went with solid tread down the garden path toward the south field. As she neared the old meadow bars the sun sank into the west, the pungent smell of wild hay and clover filled the light breeze that crept with the long shadows over the grass. The woman took in these glories of nature with affectionate eye. Her ageless spirit triumphed — she was young again, song rose to her lips, and laughter, too. To think she had wept but a moment ago, when life was so sweet, and as full of interest and possibilities as ever. She dallied a little, now, as she neared the pasture, her footfalls grew lighter. The big-boned animal she had spied from the window was still browsing near the gate. Her keen old — eyes had not deceived her it was Link. Mother Nile pursed her lips as she leaned over the bars and a low, clear whistle arrested the nibbling of the brown horse. It came again and the big colt raised his head and thrust an ear forward. Once more the woman whistled more softly than before and Link turned his handsome face towards her. To be sure, this second generation chap did not know Mother Nile, but as he studied her kindly-lined face he seemed debating a possible friendship. The visitor did not profess to be a personal acquaintance of Link's, but had thus presumed because of her long association with his famous progenitors. She knew their gentle, intelligent, highlifed characteristics as well as she knew the natures of her own children. Holding the nose-bag enticingly over the bar she urged in her most wheedling tones, "Come, Link, let's get acquainted." The animal blinked his big orbs at her a few times, blew his nose doubtfully, and arching his neck galloped a small circle. Coming to a stop a little closer to the bars, he searched the face of his strange guest for confidence to advance. The lady fixed him with an eye of strength and coaxed again, "Come, Link, come, Link." The young trickster capered around again this time coming up close to the bars which the woman had deftly lowered. He advanced warily and sniffed the nose-bag, still undetermined, but the decision was no longer left with him. A lightning quick arm had thrown the nose-bag strap over his head and as though owning himself fairly caught Link good naturedly followed Mother Nile over the lowered bars and up the garden walk. In the silence of the old deserted barn the undaunted female curried his brown coat to a satiny smoothness, patted him, talked to him and regaled him on bread and sugar until he rubbed his nose against her in a promise of undying devotion. He followed 532 IMPROVEMENT ERA her around with his great, questioning eyes and even whinnied softly after her when she left him well quartered for the night. Having so easily won the horse, as she had done dozens before him, the lady murmured half sadly, half gaily to herself, "Guess horses don't know anything about the age limit." Next morning there was a great rapping on Rachel Nile's door. "What's wanted?" she called from her bed where she was holding herself until after this anticipated interruption. "It's the circus today, grandma," piped children's voices, "and ma says to hurry and come over, cause the p'rade starts at nine o'clock, maybe." "Tell your mother I'm not going down with her today," grandmother yelled as pleasantly as the high pitch of her voice would permit. "0 yes, come on, grandma," begged the youngsters. "Harry's going to take all us kids in the white-top an' pa's going to take you an' ma an' Jim an' his girl in the surrey, come on." "No, dearies, I'm not going down with your folks today. Now run along." Of course, the little folks delivered the message verbatim — (?) as children always do in disjointed sentences of "She ain't — — up she won't go to the circus she says for us to go along." So when Charles drove up a few moments later his wife ran out explaining concernedly, "Your mother hasn't come, I suppose I had better go over and try to get her, though she told the children she wouldn't go." "Well, come along, then," urged the impatient Charles, trying to keep his team quiet, "if mother says she isn't going that — settles it she always means what she says. Pile in, everybody, and hurry up." With no more ado, all did as he commanded. There was a whir of wheels, a second whir of wheels, two great clouds of dust that soon merged into one, and Rachel Nile retired from her curtained outlook with a relieved sigh. "Now they're all gone," she bristled, "I reckon I'd better hurry." In a remarkably short time she had Link attended to and harnessed into her little buggy. In another few minutes she was attired in her best lavender gown and, with a stylish turban, she looked the part of the "leading lady" which she had always taken, before her illness, in this community. With steady movements and the skill of long practice she untied her appropriated horse, climbed into the buggy and was off towards town. As soon as she touched the lines, Link stretched out his neck and sprang forward with the zest of a high spirited animal. He PUTTING MOTHER ON THE SHELF 533 threw out his feet in a manner that gave a swift, powerful swing to his big frame and brought a glad light into the woman's eyes. "Humph, pacer!" she murmured, "I thought so." But she laid a firm hand on the reins. "No, Link," she ordered pulling — him down to a slow trot, "none of that now you'll get your chance. Any way, I know better than to heat you up on the first quarter, if some folks do think that a little sick spell and the creeping years has taken my senses," she chuckled knowingly. Link tried to content himself with the poky gait but every now and then he would break into his great swinging stride only to be brought back to a slow jog by the firm hand on the lines, and a warning from the friendly voice, "Take it easy, Link, I tell you They reached town in time to see most of the parade from one of the less frequented streets and both Link and the lady viewed it with interest. However, it was Link's first circus, and when the brass horns began to play he snorted, shied and decided not to pass the band wagon. Rachel Nile seized the whip and gave him a sharp rap over the back." "You go right up to that music, old fellow," she commanded, "I won't have you afraid of your shadow like a country plug, go 'long!" and she emphasized her determination with big brown, although quivering line,' voice and whip until the with strong emotion, walked right along beside the players. Then his erstwhile mistress quieted him on the deserted streets and had him comfortably stabled. During the day Mrs. Nile visited with an old friend, and sundown found her headed for h6me decked in the sombre duster, a rusty, brown veil completely covering the neat turban. On neighbor, old granny the first mile out she overtook her nearest Lee, jolting along in a lumber wagon. Thoughtful as ever, she in her more comfortinsisted upon the aged woman riding home With the dear, old granny beside her in her able conveyance. Nile held Link passementrie bonnet and paisley shawl, Mother kept a sharp look out on the road down to a slow trot while she Wagons, buggies and horsemen passed and, though behind. driver held him reLink resented taking everybody's dust, his lentlessly in check. • . of vehicles. At last the highway ahead became cleared Presently the rattle of wheels from behind made Link prick up and this time he received a strong hint through hi. ears alertly, the lines that he was not to "eat any more dust,' as his mistress shout, would have expressed it. Next he heard his driver s voice go it!" thrilling with excitement, "Now, Link, instant, the sound The brown colt's blood was on fire in an quickening his boundof beating hoofs close behind him further 534 IMPROVEMENT ERA ing pulses. He stretched his neck forward, threw out his feet recklessly, and swung himself into his splendid pacing gait. Faster and faster his big feet beat the dust and sent it flying in the faces of those behind. This cloud and the gathering twilight almost completely hid the occupants of the racing vehicles from each other; but once, when a soft bit of road was struck and the rumble of wheels and pounding of hoofs was partly deadened for a moment, a snatch of conversation floated on to Mrs. Nile. "Who is it?" one voice asked curiously. A gruffer-toned person replied, "Looks like a couple of old Relief Society sisters." Link's driver chuckled, as she saw the ends of her rusty, brown veil flapping in the breeze and glimpsed the passementrie bonnet and paisley shawl of granny Lee who sat as still as a mouse, this not being the first time she had ridden behind racing thorough-breds with Rachel Nile. But, now, the back buggy was gaining on them. They could hear the man yelling to his team, urging them in a tense voice, "get out of it, you rascals! get out of it, I tell you! get up, sirs, come!" "Them folks must have some pretty good horses," Granny Lee squeaked out jerkingly. "Umph! I reckon," owned her companion as the other outfit came closer and closer their animals running almost neck and neck with Link. As they neared the river, each driver maneuvered to reach the narrow bridge first. Whoever got onto it ahead had the race, for the bridge was the end of the good roads. A wagon was just crossing towards them and as the man lumbered off the boards the rear buggy cleverly swung out around him where the roadway was widest. Nothing daunted, the "old Relief Society sister" turned out on the other side, though the grade was so steep there it looked as if her small rig would overturn. When it dipped dangerously to one side and every one held his breath, Link felt the whip on his back with a sharp pop and with an excited bound he regained the road. The other vehicle had gotten the lead by a few inches, but with hair splitting daring the woman darted in a head of it. "She'll take a wheel off," screamed a female voice as Mother Nile by skilful driving missed the railing by the eighth of an — inch and dashed triumphantly onto the bridge over the line. At that moment her face was silhouetted against the western sky where a last, red gleam shot up, and the driver of the defeated rig cried out completely non-plussed, "By all that's good, — if it isn't mother driving Link!" ; PUTTING MOTHER ON THE SHELF 535 The little high school girl sank back with a relieved gasp against the waiting arm, "the old dear! — and, oh, it's all right, now, I know," she gurgled with wet, happy eyes, "father says he'd give his consent if your grandmother was that famous horse-woman he'd heard about. He believes so much in blood!" Jim knew what to do next, and did it, as Mother Nile, slowing up, called back, "Guess you don't want to sell Link to me — since he's not a woman's horse?" "Link's yours," yelled the worsted Charles, manfully, reining the lathering bays. Provo, Utah Courage (Selected) Here's a hand to the boy who has courage To do what he knows to be right; When he falls in the way of temptation He has a hard battle to fight. Who strives against self, and his comrades Will find a most powerful foe All honor to him if he conquers, A cheer for the boy who says "No"! There's many a battle fought daily The world knows nothing about; There's many a brave little soldier Whose strength puts a legion to rout. And he who fights sin single handed Is more of a hero, I say, Than he who leads soldiers to battle And conquers by arms in the fray. Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted, And do what you know to be right! Stand firm by the colors of manhood, And you will o'ercome in the fight. "The right," be your battle cry ever In waging the warfare of life; And God, who knows who are the heroes Will give you the strength for the strife. —Phoebe Cary.