# 7 Whatever Became of Blacky's Blanket?

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This is a picture of my great grandparents on their wedding day in1889. They went on to have nine children, some of whom are in this story. Like Blog Post # 6, "The Story of the Rogue Ring", this tale deals with a mysterious disappearance. From beginning to end we will travel back through time over a hundred years and then forward again 65 years or so.

It was a snowy day in the early 1900s. Great Grandpa was away for the day with his older brother, working at their wintertime occupation as cabinet makers. Great Grandma was in the big farmhouse kitchen busy with Christmas baking: Lebkuchen, Pfeffernusse, and Stollen. Though she had most holiday preparations well in hand, there were still items on her shopping list. Along with a number of other needs were a box of the little candles for the Christmas tree, anise seeds for the Springerle, and ribbon to make new hair bows for her three young daughters.

Great Grandma called two of her older sons and sent them to the barn to bring out the cutter and hitch up the horses for a trip to town. The boys gave each other knowing glances and went out whistling. Great Grandma had soapstone foot warmers heating on the cook stove. When the three little sisters saw what was happening, they ran to their mother.

"Oh, Mama, may we please, please, please go with the boys to town? We've not been for ever so long," begged the eldest.

"We promise to be good and not ask to buy anything," chimed in the middle sister. 

"Pretty, pretty please?" chirped the youngest as she bobbed up and down in excitement. 

Great Grandma smiled at her three girls. Secretly she may have been thinking how nice and quiet the house would be when her youngest son went down for his nap and with the three chatterboxes gone to town with their brothers. 

"Yes, My Dears," she said, "I think that is a most excellent idea. Since I have hair bow ribbon on the list, each of you may pick out a yard in whatever color you like best. Now, hurry and get your warmest things on. Here come the boys, back from the barn, and almost ready to leave."

Great Grandma told the boys to go to the big blanket box and get two heavy ones for themselves and Blacky's blanket for their sisters who would be accompanying them on their errand. The fellas looked at each other; their faces fell. Peeved as they were at hearing this turn of events, they knew better than to question their mother's decision. 

Here they had been picturing themselves as young men about town with their father's flashy team and two-seated cutter, perhaps being able to take a detour around the section and show off a bit to their neighbor's pretty daughters. Who knew but that the young ladies might even be allowed to go with them on their journey. But no, now they would have to go straight to town and back again in short order, all the while having their painy little sisters in tow.

While the girls dunned their winter outerwear, their mother wrapped the foot warmers in pieces of old blanket and put each into a gunny sack. Throwing a shawl around her shoulders, she stepped out onto the back porch as her glowering sons helped their sisters into the back seat of the sleigh, putting the wrapped foot warmers under their feet and tucking Blacky's blanket securely in around them. 

As the two brothers swung themselves up in front and prepared to depart, Great Grandma called out to them a warning about Blacky's blanket. 

"See you take good care of that blanket. You know how special it is to your father. Don't let anything happen to it. When you get to the store either take it inside with you, or one of you stay out to keep an eye on it. If someone snatched it, you know we could never replace it. Drive safely and have a good trip."

They nodded their heads in acknowledgement, all the while smarting inside about how their day was turning out. Little did they know then but that things would soon go from bad to worse. They clucked up the team and swooshed out of the yard with sleighbells and their mother's admonition ringing in their ears.

It is at this point that I feel obliged to interject myself into the story and answer the two questions you may be asking: Who is Blacky? and What is the deal with his blanket?  Blacky was a horse, a handsome Percheron, black in color, of course. Great Grandpa dearly loved Blacky. They had a special bond, that man and that horse.

 When Blacky eventually died at twenty something years of age, Great Grandpa just could not let him go. He had a big sleigh blanket made from his gleaming hide, lined with the warmest wool of sky blue. That blanket was a memorial to Blacky, a shining testament to what a great horse he had been. Now you know the reason for Great Grandma's concern.

In this day and time, it may seems strange that anyone would want a blanket made from the hide of their dead horse. But then again, there are those who have mounted deer heads, fish, or bear skins hanging on the walls of their homes. They never really knew those animals, not like Great Grandpa knew Blacky. And he was not alone in his feelings. If you look online for vintage horsehair sleigh blankets, you can often find them for sale even yet. Plus, considering the waste not, want not mentality of the past, horsehide made a warm, durable, waterproof covering for people just as it had for the horse. And now back to the story...

When the family got to town, the boys pulled up in front of the general store on Main Street. Still feeling stompy and grumpy, they quickly alighted from the cutter and trudged up the steps of the store, never giving a backward glance at their sisters. They just wanted to be finished and done with the shopping as fast as possible.

"Hey, come back, what about us?" the girls cried after them. 

"You stay there in the sleigh. We won't be long. Just be glad you got to come to town at all," snapped the younger brother.

"But Mama said we could pick out ribbon for new hair bows. You have to let us come," wailed the youngest sister and she began to weep. 

"Oh, stop your blubbering then. Come on in and let's get this trip over with," grouched the older of the brothers.

With that, the three sisters happily threw off Blacky's blanket, jumped down from the cutter, ran up the store steps, and the two youngest followed their brothers inside. The eldest daughter, however, remembering her mother's words, looked back worriedly at the beautiful blanket abandoned in the sleigh, and hesitated leaving it. She looked up and down the street; no one was in sight. "I guess we can watch the blanket through the front window of the store," she thought to herself, and made the fatal mistake of leaving Blacky's blanket unguarded. 

At first the oldest girl kept one eye on the blanket in the sleigh as she moved around the front part of the store, but soon her sisters called her to come to the back to pick out ribbon for her hair bow. She looked away from the window and became engrossed in selecting just the right color. There were so many pretty ones. At last each girl made her decision. The ribbons were cut and added to the pile of purchases the brothers made, ticking off each item on their mother's list. Finally everything was wrapped and paid for.

The family gathered up their packages and turned toward the door to leave. It is uncertain who was the first to notice, but almost as one they gave a gasp at what they saw, or rather, what they did NOT see, through the big front store window. As they peered out, hoping against hope that their eyes were deceiving them,all they saw was an empty sleigh.

Hurriedly, they exited the store, flew down the steps, and frantically began looking in, under, and behind the cutter. But the gorgeous blanket was not there. What their mother had warned against, had happened. If they did not take the blanket into the store with them or leave one or the other of them outside to watch, someone might well snatch their treasure. She was right. Blacky's Blanket was gone.

What a sad, silent, frightened group of youngsters made the cold trip back from town. What would they tell their mother? How could they face their father? What could they ever do to make up for their self centered carelessness that resulted in the loss of the family treasure? There really was nothing they could say or do. it was a lesson none of them, from the oldest down to the youngest, ever forgot. 

I wish I could tell you this part of the story had a happy ending. Perhaps their father and uncle came down Main Street on their way home from work, and seeing the blanket left in the cutter, took it home with them, to teach the young ones a lesson in taking better care of valued possessions. Or perhaps the thief had second thoughts sometime later and one dark night returned the blanket to the family by hanging it over their yard fence. But sadly neither of these things happened.

However, amazing as it seems, this was not the end of the story of Blacky's blanket. Great Grandpa, not many years later, died from complications brought on from a fall off the roof of a barn he was building for another farmer. Great Grandma eventually sold the farm and moved to town where she too passed away. The brothers and sisters grew up, lived out their lives, and one by one joined their parents and siblings buried in the church cemetery.

 At last only one was left, the youngest of the sisters and she was alone,even her daughter having passed on. My mother was the daughter of the older sister. These two became closer than ever. One missing her mom and the other missing her daughter. And so it was, that they did many things together, remembering and reminiscing, enjoying each other's company.

Click Here for Audio VersionOne thing they did each year was to spend a day at the county fair, just as they had done in earlier times. They worked their way through the exhibit buildings and even visited the animal barns, lingering a bit longer when they came to the Percheron horses. This was a bittersweet part of the tour for Great Auntie as she remembered Old Blacky and the loss of his blanket. 

The last building they would visit was where examples of heritage crafts were shown and collections of antiques were exhibited. They laughed together about items that had once been part of their every day lives and now were considered collectibles. One particular year as they were walking slowly along, seeing what there was to see, Great Auntie gave a sudden, sharp gasp. 

My mother, thinking perhaps the day had been too much for her, looked for a place for Auntie to sit down. "Are you feeling ill?" she asked. "Should I call for help?" 

"Oh, no," was Auntie's reply. "It is just such a shock." 

Mother looked around, wondering to what Auntie was referring. "What are you talking about, Dear? Are you really okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine, but just look there in the back of that display," she said, pointing across the aisle.

Mother looked to where Auntie was pointing. There on a rack hung a large black horsehair sleigh blanket, lined with sky blue wool. And the old family story of Blacky's Blanket came to mind.

"Surely," Auntie said, her voice quavering a bit, "after all these years, no it couldn't be, could it? If I could just feel the hair and the wool, I could maybe tell. Oh, and I remember now. Our blanket had a missing corner where it had dragged out of the cutter once and was cut off by the runner. Father was unhappy about that. Mother mended it as best she could. When I close my eyes I can still see the shape of that odd corner. I sure would like to get a closer look at that blanket."

Each antique exhibitor's display was surrounded by a picket fence. There was a narrow gap between displays. Being a small lady, Great Auntie found she could skinny her way sideways between the two fence sections until she got close enough to reach out and touch the blanket. The blanket had the right feel. 

Then she looked closely at the corner that hung to the back of rack and closest to the fencing. She turned to my mother smiling, meaning she recognized the shape of the damaged corner. Tears ran down her cheeks as she told Mother that even her mother's tiny mending stitches were still there. Blacky's blanket had been found.

"Would you like me to copy the exhibitor's name," Mother asked, "so we can track him or her down and see if we could buy the blanket back? It would be so wonderful to bring it home again where it belongs. I still can't get over that it was brought to the fair and you were here to see it."

Great Auntie sat thinking for a bit. Then she said, "No, I don't want to contact the owner. It was taken so long ago. The family who owns it now obviously is proud to be in possession of such a fine piece of our area's heritage. They have no idea of its history. Who knows how it came to them. I don't want to rake up the past. It is more than enough that the Lord has let me see and touch it again one last time. My mind is at peace. I won't ever again wonder whatever happened to Blacky's blanket."