Post-confederation (1867-)
Belle hadn't meant to stay so long. It must be after eight o'clock, way past breakfast. How was she going to explain? Suddenly Belle stopped, listening intently as an unfamiliar sound drifted to her on the early morning breeze. Then she recognized what it was. Gunfire! Batoche was under attack!
Bobby skipped down the stairs. Bright yellow posters hung on the posts on either side of the dock. Dan handed him a stack of the yellow papers. Bobby read the top one carefully. He traced his finger over every word: "Kids. Fishing Derby. August 30, 1957. First Prize: New Bike."
Emily shifted deeper into the hay, ignoring Dede's call. She had no intention of going back to the house to let Dede punish her. She'd rather stay in the hayloft all day.
"I don't know," Peggy said. She pointed to a spot where a section of sandbags had fallen over and left a gap. "Those sandbags don't look like they could stop much."
She glanced up at the sun, which was getting lower in the sky.
"I've got to get home to help with milking," she said.
"Me too," said Tom. There was never a holiday from milking.
Reluctantly, Tom turned away from the widening brown river. If there were a flood, what would the Lone Ranger do?
