The following are excerpts from the diary of Sarah Ward
Slade, May 1899 — April 1927. Read at your own risk.
August 27, 1926 — I do hope the Aboriginals come back soon. Bram says supplies should last until their return, but I can’t help but worry. We’ve lived here only a few years; perhaps they change their routes and won’t ever be coming back. No – I cannot think like this. It would break Bram if I resisted his dream. Mount Logan is a beautiful place; it just gets so cold. Our back forty is right against the forest, and the mountain grows out of ice high above our heads. Our child will love growing up here, away from it all. Yes, I should just stop worrying about it. I do hope it’s a boy. The Aboriginal women seem quite lovely.
September 12, 1926 — Bram caught sight of the Aboriginals while on the widow road. He’s made the preparations and saddled the horses. I won’t be going with him this time; he worries about me in my state. No matter how hard I tried, he still harbours concern. He’s an only child, and I’ve seen my mother and sisters carry far more children than the entire population of Italy. I shan’t argue; his eyes draw together when he’s worried, and it’s so irresistibly attractive I forget all that I meant to say. He’s leaving now; I wonder if he will make it back before dark, but he says he shall be fine. He has his hunting rifle and the horses, after all.
Later
Oh! The most terrible news!
Bram arrived well after dark. He keeps checking over his shoulder and cannot sit still. He says — he says – oh, it’s horrible! A large shape was following him, snuffling and – and – I cannot think about it, or I am sure I will faint. He says it was like a giant monkey of sorts, tall as a young tree. He has supplies enough for a few months, but the creature is out there somewhere. I asked him why he did not shoot; he says it only would have angered it. I cannot think about it. It’s horrid, so horrid. Bram is encouraging me to go to bed, but how can I? He says he shall stay up and keep guard, but how can I sleep when we are in danger? My one solace: the Aboriginal have lived on these lands, and if a creature was terrorizing them, they would have mentioned it when we first arrived. Yes, it must be nothing. Harmless, is all. It will leave when the weather turns cold. Yes, I think I shall sleep now. It will be better when the sun rises again.
October 20, 1926 — Bram says the monster is gone now. It has not shown its face for some time now. Perhaps it has sought out new grounds to hunt. I do hope so, it would be oh so terrible if someone were to die. The creature is on our minds, however. It is drawing near time for Bram to get more supplies. He believes he shall be safe, and I do hope he is. Our child becomes more impatient with every passing day, kicking my bladder relentlessly. Bram finds this funny; I pray that God will show him what it is like to be pregnant. While I may complain about it to Bram, it is the most wonderful thing in the world. Soon, my life will be complete with my husband and child at my side. The Aboriginals should be here in a few days or weeks; Bram will leave then.
November 2, 1926 — It is well past time for Bram to have returned. My thoughts drift often to the creature, and I must keep myself busy or else I shall fret. I have crocheted already several blankets for the baby, and I am currently working on a cardigan. It does get cold here, and I for one will not tolerate frostbite or any other horrid diseases. Yes, Bram will return soon; he is merely chatting with the Aboriginals, or bargaining or something special; he said he would try to get provisions enough for the whole winter, rather than only a few months. I shall put the kettle on and prepare tea for his return. Oh! – a knock on the door. It must be Bram. His knocks are slow because he is tired, is all.
December 15, 1926 — I have not had the fortitude to write in some time. The monster is there. Oh, I hear it, stomping around the back forty. I cannot – I cannot – Bram is dead. Oh, poor, sweet Bram! The monster – the monster killed him on his return. A stranger is in my house instead. He – he came across Bram in the woods, when the monster had already killed him. Joseph – Joseph Turner is his name, the stranger’s – Joseph had a hunting whistle, which scared off the monster. Joseph brought the wagon with him – he says he knew someone lived along the widow road, he knew someone was waiting for Bram. It is sweet of him, but – oh! Bram is dead. I cannot dwell on it, but – oh! The monster dwells outside, and Joseph has offered to stay and protect me and the baby. He sleeps on the couch, his whistle between his lips to be blown at a moment’s notice. The world needs men like Joseph, but – oh! my world needs men like Bram!
March 3, 1927 — The baby has come. I went into labour close to midnight, and by dawn he was here. Joseph has proved himself again, assisting me better than any midwife. I have named him Bram Slade Junior, using only my husband’s family name and not mine. It was a subject of debate between us – he rather liked the family name Ward – but I wish to honour his memory. Joseph has pointed out that honouring Bram’s memory would be to use the name Ward, but – I cannot live without Bram Slade. In a few weeks, supplies will run out again. Joseph has been so kind to me these past few months; he takes care of me and Bram, he scares off the monster whenever it is drawing close with his whistle, he even risked himself to bury my husband. In many ways, he reminds me of my love. Perhaps, if the monster ever does leave – no, I cannot think that way. Joseph has been a loyal guardian, but no more than that.
April 10, 1927 — It is drawing near time to get more supplies. Joseph is worried – he reminds me so much of Bram when he worries, only he fiddles with his whistle – he says he shall go by himself, and leave his whistle for me. I cannot even fathom it. After all, Joseph has kept the monster at bay all this time; what if Joseph leaving encourages the monster enough that the whistle cannot stop it? I plan to go with Joseph; in fact, I plan to take Bram and live with the Aboriginals from now on. They have said nothing about a creature; perhaps it was a mistake to come out here by ourselves. Surely their group is large enough to scare off the monster. Yes, this is a good plan. My heart breaks to abandon Bram’s dream, but this must be done. Mount Logan seems to agree; I sometimes see avalanches or ice falls when I peer up its sides. Yes, I must merely convince Joseph this is a good plan. He is a few years younger than myself, only twenty-five tender years of age. But he is strong, and reasonable. I must merely find the correct argument.
April 13, 1927 — He has been persuaded. We have packed most of our belongings into the wagon while the monster is off. It has come back, but we will wait until it leaves again before we leave. Joseph is anxious, but I have consoled him enough. I have learned his character while he has stayed with me; he will do everything in his power to protect me, no matter how he feels. It is honourable; perhaps my husband would not mind . . .
June 6, 1927 — It feels wrong to leave this diary on the note it was originally going to be. It has taken me time to find the words, but when her child reads this, he must know how it ended. Sarah is dead. I knew, I knew I should not have taken her with me. It is – I must honour her memory. This, then, is the death of Sarah Ward Slade.
We were almost down the widow road when the monster came. It was big and hairy, monkey-like in appearance. I blew my whistle, but the horses balked and broke free of the wagon. I stopped to call them back, and in that moment the creature came closer. I told Sarah to take Bram and run for the settlement. She insisted I do it. She – she said I was younger, and faster. I wanted to refuse, to order her to run, but she had already given me Bram, and was standing to run. It broke my heart to do so, but when the monster advanced again, I blew the whistle, and she ran into the forest. The monster chose the easier prey and chased after Sarah, and I ran to the settlement. The Aboriginals welcomed me and Bram, and told me they had indeed seen the monster in the distance; but, as it had never approached them, they respected it and never inquired more into it. They have a name for it; they call it “the one who watches”, or “sasq’ets”. Whatever the name...I wish to leave Bram with the Aboriginals, when he is old enough. In the meantime, I will learn all about the creature from the Aboriginals...then, I will kill it.