A Sweet Surprise

Andi’s Journal, late August 1887

Riley never ceases to amaze and surprise me! It’s the last week of August, and the California sun has just about sucked every drop from Memory Creek. I am just happy we have a good, deep well and enough wind to keep it turning and bringing up water for the stock. But I still have to check Shasta’s and Dakota’s water three times a day and haul water to them by the bucketsful if they are in the paddock instead of out on the range.

The other day, Riley headed outside, whistling his favorite tune, “O, Dem Gold’n Slippers,” and digging around in the barn. Curious, I followed, with 7 week old Jared on my shoulder. I draped his light-weight blanket over his head to keep the sun from blinding my precious baby. “What are you up to, Riley?” .

Riley paused in his work and winked at me. “You’ll see. Be patient.”

Patience, of course, is not one of my best character traits. I sighed.

“Go inside.” He turned back to his project, whatever it happened to be, and I went inside. Not another word did he speak, nor did he show me what this project was. Later, I heard him hand pumping at the trough but I determined I would not be nosy!

Two days went by, and I was getting rather annoyed. “Riley . . .”

“Come here,” he whispered, tiptoeing toward the front door. I lost no time catching up. He put his finger to his lips, slowly opened the door, and led me out onto the porch. The boards squeaked a bit, but I didn’t make a sound. “There.” He grinned, and his smile nearly split his face in two.

“Ohhhh!” My breath came out in a silent whoosh. Around the corner and off on a small rise, nestled in a clearing in the trees, Riley had set up a large watering station. It was away from the cattle, and away from the horses. And it looked like Tucker was not interested in taking even one paw toward the adorable scene before me. He lay with his head between his paws and gave Riley a mournful look.

“Shh,” Riley ordered his dog. “Not even a tail wag or a woof.”

Cautiously, two little spotted fawns crept closer and closer to the watering trough. Then mama came. Together they drank and drank of that cool, clean water. For a moment, I wondered how they had been finding water. Sure, the cattle had their trough way out on the rangeland, and the horses had buckets, but no mama deer in her right mind would lead her babies into such a dangerous spot for water.

Bless Riley! He must have noticed the deer earlier, saw how terribly dry it was this month, and set out to give the little family some refreshment. I watched the family until one of the fawns tried to nurse his mama, but she kept stepping away. That reminded me that Jared would soon be waking and hungry.

The story behind the story: It’s been horribly dry up here in North-central Washington state, and the deer are so thirsty they have eaten every green thing they can find. One even jumped our deer-proof fencing and chomped my beans and beets—all in search of liquid. So, Mr. M set up a watering station, and sure enough . . . “if you build it, they will come.” And mama and her twins use it, along with another doe that loves to munch weeds in our gravel driveway. We caught this on the game security cameras. They are so sweet!