[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring Read online

  "I want to make you happy and as comfortable as possible," he said with a smile.

  This was our start in our new life. After a good, hot soak in the tub I had found hanging on the outside wall, I was sure that I would feel content with my world.

  SIXTEEN

  ~iyli6orr

  Wynn was very busy taking on his Mountie responsibilities in the next few days, and I managed to keep just as busy. I was trying so hard to turn our little cabin into a real home. The material I had purchased in Calgary came out of the trunk, and I set to work in earnest with needle and thread. It was not an easy task. The material was heavy and, as I had no access to a sewing machine, I had to do all the sewing by hand. There were no frills. I made things as simple as I could. Soon the windows had curtains and the cot resembled a couch with its new spread over the hard foundation. I hand-stitched some cushions to toss on the cot, and it took on a homey look. Wynn surprised me with some fur rugs he purchased from an old trapper who tanned his own. They were much nicer than the old one I had pulled from the wall. Wynn moved that one onto his office floor. I placed the two new ones on the floor in front of the fireplace and beside our bed. They added a nice touch to the rooms, though I still couldn't get used to the odd smell lingering around them.

  I had found the irons Wynn had packed for us and constructed a makeshift ironing board on which I was able to remove some of the wrinkles from our clothing. I wash t satisfied with the job, however, but I shrugged it off as the best that could be done under the circumstances. We came to our first Sunday in the North. It was strange not having a church to attend. I asked Wynn what we would do in the place of a Sunday service. I suggested we might have our own and invite the people from the village to join us, but he felt it would be wise to take our time with any such plans. Then he proposed that, if I liked, we could take our lunch and go for a hike along the river. I was pleased with his idea and at once went to see what would be suitable for a picnic.

  The countryside was beautiful. A few of the trees were already beginning to show their fall colors. It seemed awfully early to me, but I was reminded that we were now much farther north than I had been used to.

  We didn't walk far. Everything was so new to me that I kept stopping for a good look and questions. Wynn answered them patiently. We saw a couple of cabins back in the bush, not far from the stream, and I asked Wynn if he knew who lived there.

  "Not yet," he answered. "This next week I expect to find out more about our neighbors. I'll be gone a good deal of the weekdays, Elizabeth. Some nights I won't get home until quite late."

  I nodded my head but said nothing.

  "Does that bother you?"

  I was slow to answer. I wouldn't look forward to long days without Wynn. But I had spent some time in prayer my first morning in the settlement, and some of my praying had been about that very issue.

  I was able to say honestly now, "I'll miss you, certainly. But I'll be all right. I had a-a long talk with God about it and-I understand. I know that you can't stay in your office all the time. Or even around the settlement. I'll he fine. I still have so many things to do that I'll keep busy."

  I managed a smile.

  Wynn reached for my hand. "I know you've been very busy. Our little house looks much different since you've fixed it up, and I'm proud of you." His smile of appreciation filled me with a warm glow. "I've been wondering, though, if you might find some time now to get acquainted with some of our neighbors," he went on. "We will be living among them; it would be nice if you could soon find some friends."

  "I've been meaning to," I told him. "Every day I've been telling myself, `Today I will walk over to the store and meet some of the people.' But each time I find something more that needs to be done, so I put it off again."

  Wynn nodded in understanding.

  "I'll take some time this week. Tomorrow I need to do the washing, but maybe Tuesday I can go to the store."

  "I'd like that. I'd like you to get to know some of the women so you might have company on the days I'm away."

  I was quiet for a few moments. Wynn noticed.

  "Something's bothering you," he commented, more as a statement than a question.

  "Not `bothering' really. It's just-well, I worry some about how I'll ever-" I didn't know just how to express that strange little fear twisting inside of me. Finally I just blurted out, "How do you get to know people when you can't talk to them?"

  "You'll be able to talk to them. Oh, I know it will be hard and there will be times when you'll have problems expressing yourself. But ,you will pick up a few of their words quickly-many of the Indians already know a number of English words. Then there are always signs. The Indians are very good at making one understand them by using their limited English and their hands. They point out all kinds of messages. You'll catch on quickly-but you can't learn about them if you are not with them."

  I knew Wynn was right, and I determined I would no longer hide behind my work but would venture forth and meet my new neighbors. It would be so much easier for me if Wynn could be along, but I knew his duties did not allow time for him to escort me around.

  The sky was beginning to cloud over, so I picked up our picnic remains and we hurried to our cabin. The day suddenly went from sunshine to overcast to a thunderstorm. Wynn made a fire in the fireplace and we stretched out before it on the bear rug and talked about the people we had left behind and the folks who were our new neighbors here.

  Thus far, my contact with the villagers was only on the night we had arrived. I had seen and been seen by a circle of friendly looking faces. Thinking back on it, though, I would have called them more curious than friendly. I could not remember even one smile except from the big man, Ian McLain. From my window I had watched as the two workmen had constructed our little shanty out back, and I had seen a few Indian women and children at a distance as they walked one or another of the paths that passed by our place. They always looked toward our cabin with a great deal of interest. But none of them had stopped and, as I hadn't known what to say to them, I had not called a greeting or invited them in.

  Well, all of that must change. Even if it did mean learning a difficult new language, I must somehow break down the barriers and get to know my northern neighbors. If only I mourned to myself, one of them were a white woman. There would be a common ground, a common bond, with her.

  "You haven't even been in the Hudson's Bay Store, have you?" Wynn was asking.

  "Not yet."

  "I think you'll be surprised at the number of things available there. Of course, they are quite expensive. The shipping charges added to the cost make it far wiser to bring all you can with you rather than pay the extra price."

  I remembered the heavy wagon loaded with all the crates, barrels, and boxes that brought our belongings to the settlement.

  "Did that driver ever turn up?" I asked suddenly, my thoughts going back to our experience on the trail.

  "Driver?"

  "The one who should have driven us here but who was sleeping-?"

  "Oh, him. Yes, he came walking in a couple of days ago-with all kinds of excuses and stories. Ian gave him a good scolding-like one would scold a child. Then Mrs. McLain filled the fellow up with roast duck and baking powder biscuits."

  `Mrs. McLain?"

  "Didn't I tell you? There is a Mrs. McLain after all."

  My face must have beamed. I could hardly wait now for the opportunity to go into the settlement for my first visit. It would be so nice to have a chat with another woman. Perhaps I would even be able to invite her for tea on one of the afternoons when Wynn was away. It would help to fill in a long day.

  "What is she like?"

  "I haven't met her. I just overheard McLain telling about the wayward team driver and the lecture and then her feeding him."

  Attempting to picture Mrs. McLain, I began by imagining a woman my age, then quickly amended that. If she were married to McLain, she must be a good deal older than I.

  "Do they have a famil
y?" I queried.

  "I havent heard."

  "Well, I'll find out all about them when I go to the store," I said, quite satisfied with the thought of my new venture.

  Over our breakfast the next morning, I shared with Wynn my revised plans of going to the store that afternoon. He seemed pleased that I was making the attempt to get acquainted.

  "What can I say?" I asked him.

  He looked puzzled. "What do you mean, what can you say?"

  "Well, I can't just march in there and announce that I came to meet his wife."

  Wynn smiled. "I'm not sure that would be so bad. People would be pleased to think that you are anxious to meet them. But-if you are hesitant to do that, do your purchasing first; and then, if you have a chance for a little chat with McLain, you shouldn't feel enbarrassed to mention the fact that you are most anxious to meet his wife."

  "Purchases? I hadn't thought of purchasing anything."

  "There must be something there you could use. Look around a bit."

  I hesitated. Wynn looked at me questioningly.

  I went on, slowly, picking out the words to voice my concern.

  "You said it's a trading post, right? Well, I've never been-I've never bought anything at a trading post. I don't know how to ... I've never traded for things before. What do I trade? I don't have any furs or-"

  Wynn began to laugh. He reached out and lifted my chin and kissed me on the nose, but the laughter was still in his eyes. I knew I had just showed my city breeding. I either could get angry with Wynn for laughing at me or choose to laugh with him. For a moment I was very tempted to be angry. Then I remembered my father's prayer-the part about humor for the difficult times-and I began to laugh with Wynn. Well, not laugh really, but at least I smiled. "I take it I'm offtrack?"

  He smiled and kissed my nose again. `A little. It's true that it's a trading post and that the trappers bring their furs there. But Mr. McLain is very happy to accept good hard cash as well. However, for you that won't even be necessary. We have a charge account there with Mr. McLain. You pick what you need and he will enter it in his little book under my name. I also would like you to keep an account of what you spend, so I can enter it in my little book. That way, when Mr. McLain and I settle up each month, hopefully our accounts will agree."

  I nodded. It all seemed simple enough.

  After Wynn was gone, I hurried with the laundry. Wynn had already filled every available pail and the boiler that sat heating on our wood-burning stove.

  The clothes were all hand-scrubbed on a galvanized board we had brought with us from Calgary. On any other laundry day I would have taken my time, but today I was so excited about the prospects of meeting Mrs. McLain that I rushed through everything. I was hoping to finish the wash around noon. Then I would have time to walk down to the store while the clothes dried on the outside lines.

  Wynn did not come home for the noon meal, so I had a simple lunch and then hurried to tidy myself for my trip to the store. I was still a bit concerned as to exactly how to approach the subject of meeting Mr. McLain's wife. Maybe if I was really lucky, she would be in the store as well.

  The afternoon was a bit breezy and my carefully groomed hair threatened to be undone from its pinning. I had chosen one of the best dresses I had brought along. It swished in the loose dirt of the trail into the settlement. I held my hat with one hand and my skirt up with the other.

  Many small, sometimes shabby, shacks lined the sides of the clearing as I neared the store. They were not placed in any regular pattern but rather built wherever a man had a mind to build. Some had smoke streaming forth through small chimney pipes. Some of them had no chimney pipe, and the smoke billowed instead out of unglassed windows. Children of various sizes and states of dress played in the dusty areas surrounding them, stopping to stare at me out of dark eyes in round brown faces. Dogs seemed to be everywhere. Some of them looked ferocious, and I was glad a few of the meaner-looking ones were tied up. I dared not imagine what might happen if they were given their freedom. Once or twice I took a brief detour in order to stay a little farther away from a dog that didn't seem to be friendly.

  The little children weren't too, friendly either. I smiled at many of them, but the expression on the small faces did not change. I could not blame them. To them I must have looked strange indeed with my piled-up, reddish-gold hair and my long, full skirt swishing at the ground as I walked. I decided that the next time I ventured forth I would wear something less conspicuous, but this time I had so wanted to make a favorable impression on the settlement's only other white woman.

  When I reached the Hudson's Bay Store, Mr. McLain was busy with another customer. The man did not look totally white nor did he look totally Indian. I assumed this was one of the mixed race people who Wynn had said were common in the North. He spoke English, even though rather brokenly, and there were some words mixed in with it that I did not understand. Mr. McLain seemed to have no difficulty. The two got along just fine. In fact, Mr. McLain himself also interchanged his English with words I had never heard before.

  Mr. McLain spoke to the man and then moved my way. "Goodday to ya, ma am," he said with a big smile, "an' may I be helpin' ya with something?"

  "I'll need a while to look," I assured him. "You go right ahead with your customer. I'm in no hurry."

  He nodded to me and went back to the other man.

  I looked around the store. Wynn had been right. I was surprised at the amount and variety of merchandise carried. I was also shocked at the prices. Three times I selected something from the shelf, and three times my frugal nature made me put it back. I was about ready to give up and leave the place in embarrassment when I spotted some tacks. Now, I did need some tacks. They, too, were expensive; but as I truly did need them and as I couldn't possibly get them from anywhere else, I decided to buy them.

  I had just made my selection when the other customer left the store and Mr. McLain came my way.

  "Have ya found what you're needin'?" he boomed.

  "Yes. Yes, I think these will be just fine," I fairly stammered.

  Mr. McLain led the way to the counter. I laid the box of tacks on the wooden square by the cash box. They looked very small and insignificant.

  "And will this be all?" asked Mr. McLain.

  I guessed he was used to his customers coming in and buying supplies to last them for many weeks. Here I was buying only a box of tacks. It must seem to him very much like a wasted trip. I flushed.

  "I'm still not settled enough to know my needs," I tried to explain, "and we brought most of our supplies with us." Then I wondered if that was good news to a man who ran the only local store. I flushed more deeply. "I-I mean-we'll certainly be needing many things as the winter sets in and all-"

  Mr. McLain seemed not to notice my discomfiture.

  "Everything in good shape at the cabin?" he asked.

  "Fine," I answered, not too sure just what he meant. "Just fine."

  "The man before you wasn't much of a housekeeper," he commented. "I had to send one of the trappers' wives over to sorta sweep out the place after he left. The fella before him-now, he was some fussy. Made the men take their boots off when they went to his office-finally got so many complaints, the department said he had to stop it." Mr. McLain shook his head. "He was some fussy all right, that one.

  I appreciated his consideration in sending over a woman to clean our cabin. I had thought it dirty when I arrived-I couldn't imagine what it might have been before.

  As Mr. McLain talked, he got out a big black book and flipped to a page marked "Delaney, R.N.W.P." and began to make an entry. There were already several items listed on the page. In my brief glance I noticed some of them were to do with lumber-probably the building the two men constructed for us.

  I took one more glance around the room and then let my mind go back to Mrs. McLain. How did I broach the subject of meeting the trader's wife? Mr. McLain solved the problem for me.

  "My wife's out back in the garden. She's ri
ght anxious to meet ya. Got a minute to step around with me and say howdy?"

  A smile flashed across my face. "I'd love to," I stated as I tucked the small box of tacks in my handbag and prepared to follow Mr. McLain.

  The garden was weed-free and very productive. I wished with all my heart that I had one just like it. Next year I must try. It would be so nice to have some fresh vegetables. Some of them here were unfamiliar to me, though there wasn't much variety. I knew the frosts came much earlier this far north. I had also been told that, because of the long summer days, some vegetables did very well, with the added hours of sunshine to make them grow rapidly.

  I took my eyes from the plants and looked about for a woman. She was at the far end of the garden patch, her dark head bent over a row of beets to which she was giving her total attention.

  "Nimmie!" Mr. McLain hollered. "Got Mrs. Delaney here."

  The dark head lifted; then, in one graceful movement, the woman was standing and facing me. -A quiet smile spread over her face. She moved to meet me, extending a hand as she came.

  "I am so pleased to meet you," she said softly.

  She was Indian.

  SEVENTEEN

  r--

  ~usfinenfr

  I walked home slowly, paying little attention to the staring children or the barking dogs. I had not stayed long to chat with Mrs. McLain. After my initial shock, there really didn't seem to be much to say. I hoped with all my heart that my shock hadn't shown on my face. Why hadn't Wynn warned me? Or had he known? And why hadn't I expected it? Wynn had told me that often the men in the North married Indian women. They were used to the lifestyle, the hardships, the work and weather, and weren't always fussing for their husbands to take them back to civilization. So why hadn't I prepared myself for that possibility?