The Winds of March

The Winds of March

The winds of March were cold and strong as Ivan pulled up the collar of his Levi jacket. "Montana seems to be as inhospitable in early spring as Mother Russia," he muttered to his companion, Georgy, as they entered the local saloon. More than the whiskey inside, they sought the warmth of human companionship and relief from the elements.

"Well if it ain't our Ukranian friends!" exclaimed Mary, the lusty barkeeper. "Life out on your sheep ranch gets pretty lonely, doesn't it?" she laughed as she pulled out a couple of beer mugs and filled them.

Soon Ivan and Georgy were filling their stomachs with warm food and beer, and fascinating those around them with tales of life in Russia under the Czar.

"Those were the days, my friends," laughed Ivan. "But all that changed with the revolution two years ago." The smile on his face vanished as the sadness overtook him again. The sadness was so hard to shake off. It had begun when he was half way across the Atlantic after his elation at having escaped the post-revolution turmoil in Russia faded.

"Well, I predict good times ahead for you two boys," smiled Mary as she brought more beers to their table. "The price of wool is going up and so will the fortunes of the Montana sheep-ranchers." Indeed, Ivan and Georgy had done well in their first year on the nearby sheep ranch they had bought at a foreclosure sale. The sheep-raising experience they brought with them from the Ukraine had served them well.

Just then, Mary's seventeen-year old daughter, Elaine, came in from the Post Office. "Mail call," teased the nubile brunette, holding up a parcel of letters. All the males gathered around Elaine, as eager to be close to such beauty out here on the frontier as they were to see if they had any mail. Ivan and Georgy were no exception.

"Stick your tongues back in your mouths, boys. You know that Elaine is engaged to be married to the school teacher and that she's off limits!" Mary loudly inserted into the clamor.

Since it was late by the time the Russian immigrants made their way out of the saloon, Georgy suggested they spend the night at the local boarding house.

"Okay, okay, my friend! It won't take much to convince me to stay over, as tired as I am."

Soon after unloading their stuff at Belle's Boarding House, they joined the other boarders in the sitting room. One of them had brought a copy of the weekly newspaper from Helena, and was passing sections of it around.

"Look! Here it says that the Attorney General has appointed a special assistant, someone named J. Edgar Hoover, to help deal with the radicals and left wing organizations that want to overthrow our government. Already he's rounded up hundreds of members of the Communist party and is putting them in jail."

"What's a Communist?" questioned another boarder with bushy hair and overalls.

"A Communist follows the teachings of Karl Marx, who advocated government ownership of all property, with each person being paid according to their abilities and needs." Ivan offered.

"Government ownership of all property?" queried the incredulous guest.

"Yes," Ivan answered and told about losing his sheep farm in The Ukraine to the communists.

"So you're not a communist?" the other boarder probed.

"Hell, no. Why do you think I'm trying to start over here in America? It's because I had nothing left, thanks to those bastards. And I do mean bastards." Ivan spit out the last sentence in frustration.

"Okay, okay, friend!" exclaimed the bushy-haired boarder, surprised by the outburst.

"Maybe the Russian protests too much," pointed out another boarder, this one with an expensive business suit and suspicious look. Ivan chose to ignore his barb and excused himself to go to his room. Georgy was not far behind.

The next morning, Ivan and Georgy, along with the other boarders, were having some of Belle's renowned biscuits and eggs for breakfast. Suddenly Mary the saloonkeeper, burst through the door. "Ivan and Georgy, I need to talk to you – now, and in private." They followed her outside with questioning eyes.

From the way Mary's buxom chest was heaving, she'd obviously been running some distance. "I just came from the telegraph office. The Justice Department rounded up twenty Russian immigrants yesterday in Helena on charges that they are communist agents. There was a telegraph for the sheriff that these same people from the Justice Department will be here this afternoon to do the same. You boys better get out of town right now and make yourselves scarce."

"But, but," Ivan sputtered. "We're not communists. We're not spies. We have legal papers to be in this country – the ones when we came through Ellis Island."

"How can they do this kind of thing in America?" Georgy spoke up. "I thought freedom to peaceably carry on your lives without government interference was guaranteed in your constitution."

"Well I thought so, too. But my daughter's fiancé – you know, the schoolteacher – was explaining to me about those new acts congress has passed take away some of those freedoms in the name of protecting the government in a time of war."

"New acts? We haven't hear about those," explained Ivan.

"Yes, the Espionage Act and the Sedition Act. Since Attorney General Palmer believes plans are underway for a communist revolution here, he's using these acts as justification for rounding up suspected communists and anarchists and holding them without trial."

Upon hearing this, Ivan and Georgy hurriedly gathered up their belongings, saddled their horses and headed towards their sheep ranch.

"Georgy. You know what we must do. We have to pack up what we can and head into the mountains until those Justice Department people leave the state."

"Justice Department? I guess I don't understand the American meaning of Justice."

It seemed to Ivan that the winds of March were as cold and strong as in Mother Russia.