Way Lonesome

By Suzanne Ouimet

Living in an Airstream trailer is only one thing. Having somewhat odd and eccentric neighbours and believing she has a horse of her own leads to a series of adventures for the young, perhaps clairvoyant, TeeJay. Add her little brother, Warble and her mother, Puss into the mix and lots of things just happen.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne Ouimet
• Release date: Nov 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386144762

Suzanne Ouimet

Suzanne grew up in the Toronto area of Ontario. She moved to Vancouver Island, B.C. in 1988 with her husband Ron. They have a beautiful home on the side of a mountain overlooking the Salish Sea over to Lasquiti Island.

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WAY LONESOME©

a novella by

© Suzanne Ouimet

Copyright © 2018 by Suzanne Ouimet

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without the permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review in a newspaper or magazine or broadcast on radio or television.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, incidents and places are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Thank you, Ron, for your help editing and

with the housework while I was attempting to complete this book.

And much gratitude to Wendy-Lynne & Alan for editing and the ‘Blurb’.

Table of Contents

Introducing TeeJay

Puss and Warble

Playing in the Rain

A New Friend

The Chans

Mrs. Harvey

About Franklin

On the School Bus

Warble Gets Sick

Lovely Lucy

A Phone at Last

Riding Lessons

Out Exploring

Riding Again

Hallowe’en

That Darn Gun

Blizzard

TeeJay Worries

The Chan Memorial

Raymond

The Letters

Going Forward

Surprise

Introducing TeeJay

TeeJay Wainright clomped down the steps of the school bus, her heavily loaded backpack bouncing down the steps behind her.

Bye, Mrs. Bartle! she called.

See you Monday, kiddo. The bus driver smiled, shut the door and drove away.

Her western boots scuffing dust onto her blue jeans, TeeJay crossed the road, continued along the verge then through the mobile home park gate to #34, reciting aloud what she mostly called her ‘philosophies’ but other times, her ‘mottos’.

She’d written them all down in her maroon scribbler, the one with the holes so she could keep it in a ring binder when she got one. Already she had filled two whole pages with her list and was continuously adding more.

When you got an itch, you should scratch it. She’d heard her neighbour, Old Albert, say this one evening to his lady friend, Lucy.

Dawg eat dawg.  Not sure exactly what this meant, she liked it because it sounded slightly ‘ominous’, another word she’d just discovered, which reminded her of huge black-cloud-threatening tornadoes. She had a whole list of words she liked; had looked them up in the dictionary and written the meanings next to the words. I’m building my vocabulary; she always thought while she performed this chore.

Cory, who rode with her on the bus every day, told her today about a famous baseball player named Yogi Berra who had said, When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

That means make up your mind; don’t procrastinate, he told her. Same as, Don't sit on the fence.

It was her current favourite and she would add it to her list as soon as she got home.  Procrastinate was a word she’d added to her book only yesterday. TeeJay liked the name Yogi Berra; it reminded her of the cartoon bear, Yogi Bear. She smiled, picturing a bear in a baseball uniform when she thought about him.

Climbing the stairs to the 39-foot Airstream aluminum mobile her family called home – #3 Wildewood – she thought, mixing her metaphors – I’m a lone ranger and I live in a silver bullet.  Unlocking the door with the key hanging from a piece of red ribbon around her neck, she sang out to no one in particular – she knew there was no one there – I’m home!

After stowing her books and washing her face and hands, she picked up her small rifle and headed across the dusty yard, through the gate into the fenced-in property of Mrs. Harvey, the next-door neighbour. Almost immediately she was surrounded by several small children and a couple of scruffy dogs, all clamouring for her attention.

Not quite ignoring them all, she leaned over a large playpen where two toddlers were playing and picked up the blonde curly-headed one. Warble... she nuzzled into his silky, blonde curls.

I’m taking Warble now, Mrs. Harvey, she called up into the trailer.

Mrs. Harvey (often called Mrs. ’H’) appeared in the doorway of the dwelling, wiping her plump hands on her faded, floral apron. Stay for cookies and milk, Teresa, she invited.

No time. Too much homework. Besides, I’m on a diet. But thanks anyway, Mrs. Harvey.

Scrawny kid like you has no business being on a diet. Here, she said, leaning out the door to shove two cookies and a teething biscuit into her hand, eat these on your way home.

TeeJay had to juggle the baby, whom she had hoisted onto her left, almost non-existent hip and held her gun under her free arm, in order to grab the cookies.

And be careful with that gun! Mrs. Harvey warned.

Ain’t loaded, TeeJay answered, knowing nobody ever noticed the trigger was missing.

Then why carry it around?

’N case of snakes, she explained, walking off in her oversized Western boots, sending up small billows of dust in her wake.

Snakes? No snakes around here unless you count those little garter things we see sometimes.

Mrs. Harvey, who had been TeeJay's babysitter off and on since she was a little one-year old, now said, I admire your gumption, girl. But sometimes, you're just too much! 

TeeJay was fond of Mrs. Harvey too, but had reached an age when she didn't feel so attached to her as a mother figure anymore but in fact was often irritated by her. She often thought of her as ‘that old bag’.  Not nice, she knew, but still . . .

When she arrived home, TeeJay sat her little brother in his highchair. She knew he would have preferred to be on the floor but it wasn't terribly clean and she knew he shouldn't be crawling around on it. The baby had been cooped up all day either in the playpen in Mrs. Harvey’s yard or the one in the living room of her house. TeeJay thought it must be awful being forever behind bars so as soon as she changed into her old jeans she would take him outside, let him exercise his little legs.

Puss and Warble

TeeJay sat at the kitchen table, the tip of her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth, concentrating on her leather project. Having painstakingly pencilled her design, a combination of Indian and floral motifs, onto a strip of thin paper, she was now working her way, inch by inch, along the length of the cowhide band that Old Albert had given her, pressing the embossing tool hard through the paper design into the leather. An electric wood-burning tool lay at the ready on the table next to her. She had envisioned exactly what the belt would look like when it was finished, complete with its silver buckle, also a gift from Albert.

She’d refused to let her mother Puss discourage her friendship with their neighbour, Old Albert, who she considered one of her very best friends. He never judged her, was always helpful, even encouraged her in her new hobby. Most importantly, Albert didn’t expect her to behave like a girl! Her mother barely took notice of what she was doing and TeeJay often wondered why. Too busy, I guess. But she often felt sad, thought perhaps her Mother didn't love her.

Her baby brother, Warble, had been plopped into his high chair, where he sat playing with the silver belt buckle, avidly studying his sister with his big, blue eyes, his thumb in his mouth, his face plastered with the caramel-coloured gummy remains of a teething biscuit.

TeeJay looked up at her mother, then asked, Mama, my Daddy was a cowboy, right?

Puss was standing by the sink peeling potatoes, humming along with a song on the radio. TeeJay realized her mother was daydreaming and wasn’t exactly pleased to be interrupted by her eleven-year old daughter. It took a moment or two before she answered.

"Your Daddy was a soldier, Teresa-Jane, like I told you before, many times.

TeeJay thought her mother, in her long, blue-patterned skirt and tied-up hikers, her thick curly orange-red hair a halo around her pale face, was the most beautiful lady in the world. This was not the first time she’d noticed the light shining around her mother’s head, and wondered if she had a ring of light around her own. Most people didn’t, but she’d seen one once around Lovely Lucy’s and Warble definitely had one, all the time. Was this light a halo?

TeeJay was determined her mother should tell her about her Daddy. But before that, he was a cowboy, right? she insisted.

Well, his Daddy did have a ranch in Alberta. At least that’s what your Daddy told me. So I guess he might have ridden horses.

How come we never get to see him, my grandpa?

He’s never come to see us. And we can’t afford to go there. I've told you this before, Teresa.

TeeJay knew her mother had explained about her grandpa before and she understood how much her questions annoyed her mother, but couldn't quite stop asking. I just need to know!

TeeJay felt her little brother’s eyes on her and looked up, smiling. He