Post by Old Dragon (Al) on May 27, 2004 14:40:21 GMT 1
Continued from part 1...
Owain Evans and his son, Idris cornered me in the market the following week.
‘Been avoiding us, Bryn?’ said Owain, clamping my shoulder in his vice-like grip.
Now Owain had a bit of a reputation in Cwm Cariad and it wasn’t only sheep that folk suspected him of rustling. Bit of a ladies man, was Owain and rumour had it that he’d once had a soft spot for Mam until she’d socked him one between the legs with a shopping bag full of tinned peas.
‘N…no, Owain… Been terrible busy, that’s all.’
‘That so? Fixing things up after that bloody tup of your Mam’s, I suppose?’ said Idris and laughed.
‘Look, if this is about your sis…’ I began, knowing how Dai had broken into his sister’s front garden and slept in her porch, leaving a heap of crap all over her coconut mat.
‘It ain’t,’ said Owain, ‘it’s about them sheep rustlers…’
‘Sheep rustlers? I ain’t heard of any…’
‘Yes you have … Leastways, that’s what you’re going to tell that Mam of yours,’ said Owain, winking. ‘Aye, terrible trouble folk around here have been having with sheep rustlers. Experts, they are, and specialising in only helping themselves to the very best stock… Heard a rumour they’re aiming to lift that fine Rhondda tup as what your Mam thinks so much of… Happen he’d be best off in a shed and under lock and key else… Well, I reckon you do get my meaning, boy?’
Oh, I got their meaning, all right. But in the circumstances would you have locked Dai up? I mean, even if you did, wouldn’t you be tempted to leave the key in the lock? Saying that, Owain’s threat had given me an idea.
It’s a strange thing but, once I’d started scheming and got the whole thing worked out, it was almost as if Dai Dustbin started playing me at my own game! For a full three weeks he didn’t escape once – and to put my plan into operation I desperately needed him to. Perhaps it was the weather or the tasty new feed blocks that had him sticking like chewing gum to the farm?
‘Told you he’d settle down,’ said Mam one Sunday afternoon and pausing in the field gateway to admire the, by now, fairly clean but still singed beast. ‘Had a word with The Lord about things, I did. Worked a treat, see? I haven’t seen any of them hooligan tourists around for weeks, I haven’t, so it just goes to show…’
At that moment Dai, who’d been wandering closer and closer towards the wall, suddenly took it into his head to lunge the last few strides and leap. For a moment he paused on top of the boundary wall and stared straight at Mam, then he was gone. Down over the other side and away, stones clattering down behind him.
‘Don’t just stand there, Bryn! Fetch the dogs and get after him!’
As usual Dai was heading for the village but in no hurry. The light was fading rapidly and a thin fog began to close in. Perfect, I thought, following in the Land Rover just far enough behind to keep him in sight but not close enough to hustle him. We were approaching the turn off for Owain’s farm, set away up under the edge of the mountain and at the end of a gated track when I released the dogs. They cornered Dai easily and between us we soon had him in the back. Only for a moment did I have second thoughts before we were heading off in the direction of the Rhondda.
It was years since I’d been there but crossing the Rhigos and dropping down towards Treorchy I’d swear Dai showed signs of recognising the place. Certainly he became quite excited as we turned left by the Cardiff Arms pub and headed up the hill towards the local tip.
‘Yes, boyo,’ I said, ‘I’m taking you home.’
The moment I opened the back door he was gone in a flash and without a backward glance. I heaved a sigh of relief, climbed back behind the wheel and whistled all the way home, feeling as if a huge weight had gone from my life.
Mam was waiting on the doorstep wearing her best Sunday hat and the face of Morrigan’s crone.
‘Where’ve you been until now?’ she screeched as I pulled up in the yard and cut the engine. ‘You were supposed to drive me to chapel this evening!’
‘Been chasing that damn tup of yours all over the country, that’s where,’ I said.
‘Have you indeed?’ she said. ‘Well, I hope you’ll pen him up safe because I’ve phoned that damned Mervyn Jones. Told him just what I thought of him, so I did, selling me a rogue like that! Said I wanted my money back or I’d report him for running his lorry on red diesel… Said he’d be over first thing in the morning to collect the wretched thing. Nothing gets away with keeping me from chapel, boy!’
‘Well, he got away from me in the fog,’ I said, pushing my way past her and heading towards the kitchen, hungry after my excursion.
‘And where do you think you’re going? You needn’t think you’re eating until you’ve caught that tup and penned him up!’
Have you ever spent the night trying to sleep in a draughty old Land Rover, up on the side of a mountain in February? I have, and I don’t recommend it.
© TRPD - 2000 - Bryn Rhys
Owain Evans and his son, Idris cornered me in the market the following week.
‘Been avoiding us, Bryn?’ said Owain, clamping my shoulder in his vice-like grip.
Now Owain had a bit of a reputation in Cwm Cariad and it wasn’t only sheep that folk suspected him of rustling. Bit of a ladies man, was Owain and rumour had it that he’d once had a soft spot for Mam until she’d socked him one between the legs with a shopping bag full of tinned peas.
‘N…no, Owain… Been terrible busy, that’s all.’
‘That so? Fixing things up after that bloody tup of your Mam’s, I suppose?’ said Idris and laughed.
‘Look, if this is about your sis…’ I began, knowing how Dai had broken into his sister’s front garden and slept in her porch, leaving a heap of crap all over her coconut mat.
‘It ain’t,’ said Owain, ‘it’s about them sheep rustlers…’
‘Sheep rustlers? I ain’t heard of any…’
‘Yes you have … Leastways, that’s what you’re going to tell that Mam of yours,’ said Owain, winking. ‘Aye, terrible trouble folk around here have been having with sheep rustlers. Experts, they are, and specialising in only helping themselves to the very best stock… Heard a rumour they’re aiming to lift that fine Rhondda tup as what your Mam thinks so much of… Happen he’d be best off in a shed and under lock and key else… Well, I reckon you do get my meaning, boy?’
Oh, I got their meaning, all right. But in the circumstances would you have locked Dai up? I mean, even if you did, wouldn’t you be tempted to leave the key in the lock? Saying that, Owain’s threat had given me an idea.
It’s a strange thing but, once I’d started scheming and got the whole thing worked out, it was almost as if Dai Dustbin started playing me at my own game! For a full three weeks he didn’t escape once – and to put my plan into operation I desperately needed him to. Perhaps it was the weather or the tasty new feed blocks that had him sticking like chewing gum to the farm?
‘Told you he’d settle down,’ said Mam one Sunday afternoon and pausing in the field gateway to admire the, by now, fairly clean but still singed beast. ‘Had a word with The Lord about things, I did. Worked a treat, see? I haven’t seen any of them hooligan tourists around for weeks, I haven’t, so it just goes to show…’
At that moment Dai, who’d been wandering closer and closer towards the wall, suddenly took it into his head to lunge the last few strides and leap. For a moment he paused on top of the boundary wall and stared straight at Mam, then he was gone. Down over the other side and away, stones clattering down behind him.
‘Don’t just stand there, Bryn! Fetch the dogs and get after him!’
As usual Dai was heading for the village but in no hurry. The light was fading rapidly and a thin fog began to close in. Perfect, I thought, following in the Land Rover just far enough behind to keep him in sight but not close enough to hustle him. We were approaching the turn off for Owain’s farm, set away up under the edge of the mountain and at the end of a gated track when I released the dogs. They cornered Dai easily and between us we soon had him in the back. Only for a moment did I have second thoughts before we were heading off in the direction of the Rhondda.
It was years since I’d been there but crossing the Rhigos and dropping down towards Treorchy I’d swear Dai showed signs of recognising the place. Certainly he became quite excited as we turned left by the Cardiff Arms pub and headed up the hill towards the local tip.
‘Yes, boyo,’ I said, ‘I’m taking you home.’
The moment I opened the back door he was gone in a flash and without a backward glance. I heaved a sigh of relief, climbed back behind the wheel and whistled all the way home, feeling as if a huge weight had gone from my life.
Mam was waiting on the doorstep wearing her best Sunday hat and the face of Morrigan’s crone.
‘Where’ve you been until now?’ she screeched as I pulled up in the yard and cut the engine. ‘You were supposed to drive me to chapel this evening!’
‘Been chasing that damn tup of yours all over the country, that’s where,’ I said.
‘Have you indeed?’ she said. ‘Well, I hope you’ll pen him up safe because I’ve phoned that damned Mervyn Jones. Told him just what I thought of him, so I did, selling me a rogue like that! Said I wanted my money back or I’d report him for running his lorry on red diesel… Said he’d be over first thing in the morning to collect the wretched thing. Nothing gets away with keeping me from chapel, boy!’
‘Well, he got away from me in the fog,’ I said, pushing my way past her and heading towards the kitchen, hungry after my excursion.
‘And where do you think you’re going? You needn’t think you’re eating until you’ve caught that tup and penned him up!’
Have you ever spent the night trying to sleep in a draughty old Land Rover, up on the side of a mountain in February? I have, and I don’t recommend it.
© TRPD - 2000 - Bryn Rhys