Tinker’s Tide
Josie tasted salt in the corners of her mouth. She couldn’t tell if it came from the tears on her cheeks, from the sweat on Tinker’s neck, or from the wind blowing off the bay.
Digging
her toe in the sand, Josie leaned against her steaming mare.
“Only a week left,” she whispered as she watched
the water surge across the flats.
Twice a day, the strongest tides in the world filled and emptied the Bay of Fundy. The brief Canadian summers brought tourists bearing Brownie cameras to pose on the rock pillars and to clamber through the caves carved by the tide. That summer of 1958, Josie rode out every day to catch the tide. The rest of the time she was saddled with responsibilities.
The Atlantic Ocean rippled before Josie like a magic carpet. She wished it would carry Tinker and her away before Papa came home to sell the horses.
The thought of losing Tinker stung Josie’s eyes. She jumped on the mare’s back and turned her toward the salt marsh bordering the bay.
Long-legged birds poked their sharp beaks into the ground, searching for frogs and snakes. Black-and-white cows chomped on the tall grass.
As the sun rose over the sea of grass, Josie and Tinker picked their way through the seabirds and cattle. Josie had milked her share of cows before dawn.
Like a great green quilt, the marsh was threaded with a network of dikes raised by Josie’s ancestors. A rider waved at Josie from a low ridge ahead.
Josie joined her sister Margie on the dike path. “We’re waiting for you,” Margie whined with worry.
Josie reached down to pat Tinker’s strong brown shoulder. “Well, I’m here. Now if the six of us put our heads together, maybe we’ll think of a way to save the horses.”
Josie’s brothers and sisters clustered by the busy road that led to the tidal caves. Across the blacktop, their sunny yellow farmhouse and big red barn backed up against the deep green hills.
Josie tethered Tinker beside the other horses. Five faces looked up to Josie as she sat down. “I talked to Papa before he left to cut timber,” she began.
“Why’d he go?” interrupted Dorothy.
Josie gathered the little girl into her lap. “For the wages, Dorothy. These are hard times. That’s why Papa can’t afford to keep the horses.”
“But Tinker’s the only horse we had to pay for,” said Margie. “She gave us our mounts free.” Margie’s horse, like all the others tied to the fence, was Tinker’s offspring.
“Horses cost money to keep,” Josie explained. “Cows bring in money. If we get rid of the horses, we’ll have room in the barn for more cows, and we’ll make more money.”
“I’ve got a loose tooth.” Patrick, one of the twins, wiggled it for everyone to see. “When the tooth fairy comes, I’ll give the money to Papa.”
Jeannette, Patrick’s twin sister, fingered the cross dangling from a delicate chain around her neck. “This Sunday at Mass I’ll pray for God to save the horses.”
“Father Joseph says God helps those who help themselves,” William reminded them in his deepening voice. “I’m big enough to get a job haying.”
“The grass won’t be ready to cut again until the end of the summer,” Margie pointed out. “Too late for us.”
Everyone looked back at Josie.
“I have to stay home to help Mama. The new baby’s due soon.”
The kids fell silent.
The horses’ ears flicked forward as a sleek new station wagon pulled off the road next to them.
Josie jumped up, welcoming the distraction. “May I help you?”
The driver rolled down his window. “Hello, young lady,” he said. “Is this the way to the caves?”
“Straight ahead eight kilometers. But the tide’s in now. The caves are flooded.”
“Oh no!” cried the woman beside him. “We came all this way to see them!”
Josie peered inside. A boy and girl pouted in the back seat, just like the glum circle of kids on the grass. Josie wanted to cheer them up, all of them. “Would your kids like to pet the horses?”
The children squealed with delight and scrambled out of the car. William lifted the little boy to pat Tinker on the nose. Margie showed the girl how to hold her hand flat to feed the horses an apple.
Josie smiled as she watched the children mingle, happy around the horses. That’s how she felt chasing the tide with Tinker. “They could ride if they’d like,” she said to the parents.
“Oh yes!” The little boy crowed.
The girl grabbed the man’s hand. “Please, may we, Daddy?” she begged.
Josie took a breath. “It’s a dollar each.”
Margie gasped. The twins hauled Josie aside. Brothers and sisters buzzed around her.
“You can’t ask for money.”
“They won’t pay to ride.”
“What will Mama say?”
Josie shushed them all. “If the horses can pay their way, Papa might let us keep them. I’ll run ask Mama.”
Josie hurried across the road while the man and woman talked quietly with each other. When she returned, she caught the anxious eyes of her brothers and sisters, and nodded.
The man and woman turned to face them. “We’d like to go, too,” said the man, pulling out his wallet.
The horses swung their heads at the cheers that erupted from the children. Josie, riding Tinker, led the visitors across the marsh. While they were gone, the kids made a sign and tacked it to the fence: HORSEBACK RIDES $1. The grass by the road was soon worn flat by cars full of adults eager to stretch their legs while their children played cowboy.
When Papa returned a week later, the children handed him seventy-five dollars.
In ten years, the cows were gone; the barn was filled with horses. And Josie and Tinker still galloped across the marsh every day to catch the tide.
