Where the Moose Slept by Atwood Cutting

Author:Atwood Cutting [Atwood Cutting]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
Published: 2017-10-25T00:00:00+00:00

The photo above was taken from the spot where Frampton first announced that he would build. This would have been a travesty—given all the open territory he had to choose from. In the next photo: the arrow on the right is the Peters’ place. On the left would have

been Fram’s.

Not long after Frampton’s return to the area, some folks from the local church pitched in to build him a shack right there beside Moose Creek. Tim ventured a guess that the church fathers had probably voted to set him up as far away from town as possible. Whatever the case, they were nearly falling over each other to help their newest church brother get set up on the mountain.

Just as soon as they’d driven that last nail into those four windowless walls-with-a-roof, Frampton moved Ruth and the boys into their new home. The church folks told Ruth it would be another day or two before anyone could get back with a door.

Fram told them there was no hurry. “Just come up with the door, anytime you get to it.” If Ruth was worried about visits from the local wildlife, Frampton didn’t seem to care about such concerns.

Meanwhile his precious Beefalo sperm was still waiting unattended out in the truck. It got tired and died, and another good soul at the church furnished him with a little startup herd of regular beef cattle. This way he could get established up there at the creek before the snow fell.

As soon as that latest benefactor had bumped away out of sight, Frampton threw down a bale of hay on the bridge and turned his herd loose.

* * *

When the Peters headed into town a few days later and came upon the new setup at the bridge, they stopped to inquire about the steers in the road. Was this to be a permanent fixture?

When asked, Fram stated his well-thought-out philosophy to them. “I don’t mess with building fences to keep my animals in. Any critter’ll find its way home when it gets hungry enough.”

Now, in addition to the ruts and bumps that Tim and Kate already endured, they would have to contend with a dozen head of cattle living on the bridge. Not a pleasant prospect.

Fram’s laissez-faire style of ranching quickly disseminated garbage in all directions. Within a week, the area around the bridge had turned into an array of overturned jugs and crates lying half-buried in cow-patty slime. And the collection of junk grew bigger in scope and size, with each passing day.

Within two weeks, the older lad had run off. Smart kid. That left long-suffering Ruth, and Jimmy the younger to deal with Frampton on the farm. Those two were in, way over their heads. But it didn’t look like Ruth had much recourse. Poor Ruth and Jimmy.

In less than a month, the area around the creek had become a twenty-yard-long sluice run of ruts, guts, and bovines. It was now an issue every time the Peters wanted to get into or out of their place.

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