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

  The other men laughed and I wondered why. I didn't need to wonder for long. The makeshift table was quickly cleared of the few cups and a pack of cards was produced.

  "Ain't got nothin' 'gainst cards, have ya, Sarge?" asked the chubby boatman.

  "Not as long as they're fair and don't cause any fights," answered Wynn.

  "Then I guess thet this here's gotta he a fair game, gents," the man said to his comrades; and they all laughed uproariously again, slapping their thighs and one another's backs.

  Crates or barrels served as seats, and a couple of bottles soon joined the cards on the table.

  "You wantin' to join us, Sarge?" invited the little dark man with the French accent and long mustache.

  Wynn shook his head.

  The four men hunched over the table, and the long night began. There wasn't much place for Wynn to go. Attempting to dry out his wet clothes, he pulled a block of wood close to the stove and sat down, leaning against a pile of crates.

  The lamp flickered now and then, and an unwashed hand would reach out to turn the wick up a bit. The jesting got louder and more coarse. Wynn reminded them a lady was present, and then for a few minutes it was quieter in the cabin. As the night progressed and the bottles were emptied, the commotion grew. Wynn eventually watched it without comment, seeming to pay little attention to the whole thing; but I knew he was well aware of every movement in the room.

  From my bed in the corner, I watched too. I was no longer shivering-the scratchy Hudson's Bay blankets were doing their job well. I nearly dozed once or twice, and then laughter or a stream of obscenity would jerk me awake again.

  Wynn rose from his place by the fire to check on me. When I saw him coming, I closed my eyes lightly. I knew it might be considered deceitful, but I did not want Wynn to worry about me. He already had enough on his mind. I did not fool him, however.

  'Are you all right?" he asked softly.

  I didn't answer immediately. The truth was, I felt very strange, very out of place, in the room with the cursing, gambling men. I had never been in such a situation before. It was the kind of thing I had avoided all my life. If it hadn't been for the presence of my husband, I would have been stiff with fright. I glanced quickly at the four men in the room. The big one was taking another long drink from the bottle; and the dark, little one was impatiently waiting his turn, hand outstretched. I looked quickly back to Wynn. Concern showed in his face.

  "I'm fine," I managed weakly; but then I repeated it more firmly, willing myself to realize I spoke the truth. "I'm fine."

  "Your leg?"

  "It doesn't hurt too badly at all."

  "Are you warm?"

  I merely nodded my head for this one.

  He knelt beside me and shifted my blankets some, tucking them in tightly around me. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I planned the trip so you would have better accommodations than this. If this storm-"

  "It's all right," I hurried to assure him. "You're here-that's what matters.

  He leaned over and kissed me, the love showing in his eyes, but the worried look did not leave his face. "Try to get some sleep," he whispered.

  I smiled at him and he kissed me again, and then went back to his place by the stove.

  It was getting very late and the men were still playing cards, drinking, and cursing. Charlie rose from his crate and went to bring another bottle. When he placed it on the table, Wynn, hardly moving, stood slowly, leaned over and removed it. Four pairs of eyes turned to look at him.

  "We've got a long trip ahead of us tomorrow. I want some sober bargemen. Charlie, you can drink if you want to. It's your liquor, but don't pass your bottle around."

  There was authority in Wynn's voice; and, though there were some grumbles around the table, no one challenged him.

  The card game went on, but it was clear that much of the "fun" had gone out of it.

  At length, the men decided they'd had enough. They pushed back their makeshift seats, cleared a little space around the stove, and stretched out on the floor to sleep. For a few moments, it was blessedly silent. Then, one by one, they filled the room with a chorus of snores.

  The snoring seemed even louder and more vulgar than the conversation had been. Resigned, I turned my face to the wall and tried to get some sleep in the little time that was left.

  Once or twice I heard stirring as the fire in the stove was replenished. I knew without even looking that it was Wynn.

  When morning came, I was still bone-weary. But at least the effort of trying to sleep was over. The rain was still falling, but the wind seemed to have died down. I was thankful for small mercies.

  At my first stirring, Wynn was beside me.

  "How do you feel, Elizabeth?" he whispered.

  I ached all over, and my sore leg throbbed with each beat of my heart. I managed a faltering smile. "Okay," I answered. "Can you help me up?"

  Wynn's strong arms helped me to my feet and shielded me with the blanket while I fumblingly got into my clothes. They were thoroughly dry now and felt much softer than the blankets had.

  The men were still scattered around on the floor, sleeping off their binge of the night before.

  "I need to go out, Wynn," I whispered. "Where do I go?"

  Wynn nodded toward the one door.

  "Anyplace in the woods," he answered me.

  At my troubled look, he glanced back to the men. "Don't worry about any of them. They wouldn't wake up until next week if they were left alone. I'll watch them."

  I was relieved but still apprehensive about the whole outdoors as a facility.

  "Do you need help walking?" Wynn asked.

  I tried my weight on my poor leg to be sure before I answered, "I'll be all right."

  "Are you sure?"

  I took an _ unsteady step. "I'll hang onto the cabin if I need support," I told him.

  He helped me over to the door and opened it for me. Then he reached for his jacket. "Here," he said, "youd better use this. It's still raining."

  I wrapped the jacket tightly about me and stepped out into the misty morning. The nearby river was almost hidden by the fog that clung to it. Water from the trees dripped on the soggy ground beneath. Every step I took was in water. I was glad the wind was not blowing.

  I took no longer out-of-doors than was necessary. Even then, by the time I hobbled back into the little, smelly, over-crowded cabin, my shoes were soaked through and the hem of my dress wet for several inches. I longed for the stove's warmth, but I hesitated to step over the sleeping men. Wynn helped me around them, and I took my place in the one chair and stretched my feet out toward the glow.

  "Not very nice out there, is it?" Wynn commented.

  "It's wet and cool, but the wind, isn't blowing like yesterday."

  Wynn seemed to approve of my healthy attitude. He gave me a smile and placed a hand on my shoulder as he handed me a cup of hot coffee.

  "Now that you've seen the day, what do you think? Would you like to get back on the journey or wait out the storm here in the cabin?"

  I looked at the four sodden men on the floor. The liquor from the night before mingled with the other smells. Snores still came forth from half-open mouths, sometimes catching in their throats in a rugged growl which snorted to a finish.

  I glanced back at the makeshift bed in the corner. It was so narrow one could scarcely rum over and so lumpy I wondered how Charlie ever managed to get any sleep at all.

  "Where will we be tonight?"

  "There's a small post downriver."

  "Are there-are there-?" I hesitated to say "houses," for I wasn't sure if there were any houses as such in the North. "Are there accom modations there?" I finally managed.

  "Quite comfortable," Wynn replied.

  "Then I vote to move on," I said without hesitation.

  Wynn smiled and moved forward to stir the sleeping barge captain.

  The man didn't even open an eye, just shifted his position and started to snore again in a different key.

  "Black
jack," Wynn called loudly. "Time to hit the trail!"

  The man just stirred again. Wynn knelt beside him and shook his shoulder. "Time to get up. Get this crew of yours off the floor," Wynn commanded the man.

  Blackjack scowled up at him as if about to argue the point, but Wynn would take no argument.

  "You're being paid to get us to River's Bend, remember? If you want the pay, then deliver the goods."

  The man cursed and propped himself on an elbow.

  "Coffee's hot," Wynn prodded him. "Get some in you and let's get going."

  It was rather amusing to watch the revelers of the night before. They didn't look so lively now. Grumbling, holding their heads and muttering oaths, they tried to get their bodies to obey.

  Wynn had little sympathy. "Let's get moving," he ordered again. "The fog's about to lift, and we have some time to make up."

  They were finally on their feet and stirring. Wynn poured each a cup of coffee, except for Charlie. In spite of the commotion all about him, Charlie had slept on, only stirring now and then to reposition himself.

  "Finished with the bed, Elizabeth?" Wynn inquired. When I gladly nodded that I was, Wynn unceremoniously lifted Charlie up and carried him to his bed. Wynn straightened out the unconscious body to what looked like a comfortable position and threw a blanket over him. Charlie slept on.

  Two of the men went out to prepare the barge for departure while the other fellow mumbled and complained about the lousy day for traveling.

  Wynn looked at his pocketwatch.

  "Gotta be out of here in ten minutes, Wally," he stated flatly. "Ten minutes, no more.

  Wally, still grumbling, went to join the others.

  Wynn left money on the shelf by the coffeepot to cover our expenses for the night's lodging and the food. Charlie was still snoring as we closed the door behind us.

  Back in the boat with the slicker arranged around me, I discovered it was not raining hard. Without the wind, I was sure I would fare just fine.

  In spite of the constant peppering with fine raindrops, I found myself enjoying the scenery on the riverbanks moving swiftly from view on either side. There was very little habitation, but occasionally I did spy the smoke of a woodstove and a cabin, half-hidden by the trees.

  By midmorning the rain had stopped, the wind had died down to a light breeze, and early in the afternoon the sun actually came out. The slicker laid aside, I let the warm sun fall on my shoulders. We had not stopped except to eat a hurried noon meal consisting of a few tins of canned food heated over an open fire.

  The country through which we passed was fresh and clean. No factory smells tainted the air with civilization. I appreciated the crispness of the air even more after having spent the night at Charlie's.

  We passed through a marshy area, and Wynn moved close to me to point out two large moose. They put their heads completely under water for what seemed ever so long. When they finally lifted their heads, their mouths dripping with long marsh grass, they looked toward us almost with disdain, seeming to indicate that this was their territory and we were trespassers.

  "Look at them," I said to Wynn in astonishment. "You'd think they didn't even have to breathe, they are under so long!"

  "Oh, they breathe all right," Wynn assured me, "though they are unusual. They can even dive to get their food-some say as deep as thirty feet if need be. They scoop up the grasses on the bottom and then come back up again."

  "Do they need to go back to land to eat it?"

  "Oh, no. They just tread water. Moose are wonderful swimmers. Don't suppose there are many animals any better."

  "Aren't they ugly, though? They look like-like leftover pieces of this and that."

  Wynn laughed. "Well, there's a saying," he mused, "that a moose is a horse made by a committee."

  We chuckled together at Wynn's joke.

  Since the barge hands had started the day in bad spirits, I tried to stay as far away from them as I could. Now and then one of them would hold his head and weave back and forth. I wondered if they were in any condition to steer the barge, especially when we hit some white water; but they seemed to be alert enough when they had to be. Wynn did not seem worried, so I relaxed, too. Eventually their dispositions improved. In the later afternoon, I even heard Blackjack singing.

  With the passing of the day, I guess my disposition improved as well. Wynn had often been by my side to point out interesting items in the water or on the riverbanks. The sun was swinging to the west, the men were no longer cursing with every breath, and the country all around me seemed mysterious and exciting. Yes, things were definitely improved over yesterday.

  Lying in that little cabin, I had wondered if I'd ever make it as a Mountie's wife. How could anyone endure such conditions? Today I was confident I could. My leg wasn't even bothering me anymore. We would soon be at the post, and Wynn had said we would have good accommodations there. I wasn't sure how many nights it would take us to make the trip, but I was now certain I could endure. I had gotten through the first night, and it surely couldn't be any worse. From here on I would have no problem.

  ELEVEN

  Onwarcr

  The cabin was simple but seemed very adequate, and the best thing was that I didn't need to share it with four drinking men. Another nice thing was that I could share it in privacy with Wynn.

  After we had gone to bed I heard a strange sound. It seemed to grow louder and louder until it was humming steadily in my ears. I was puzzled and wished I could ask Wynn about it, but I could tell by his breathing that he was already asleep.

  In the darkness something stung me. I jumped and slapped at it. Another sting. I swatted again.

  "Put your head under the covers if they are bothering you," said Wynn softly.

  "What is it?"

  "Mosquitoes."

  Now, I had seen mosquitoes before. I had even been bitten by a few; but this-this din was something new to me.

  "Are you sure?" I asked Wynn.

  "I'm sure," he answered. "This cabin doesn't have any screens on the windows."

  "How do you ever sleep?"

  "You get used to it."

  Wynn turned over to pull me close and shelter my face with the blankets.

  "Try to sleep, Elizabeth," he encouraged me. "You didn't get much last night."

  I lay quietly in Wynn's arms, not stirring for fear I would keep him awake. The hum was a rising and falling crescendo. I wondered how many million mosquitoes it took to make such a sound.

  In spite of the protection of Wynn's arms and the blanket, the mosquitoes still found me. I could hear their hum get closer and then I would feel the sharp sting as they sucked out my blood.

  One thing is sure, I promised myself. Our cabin in the North will have coverings over the windows even if I have to tear up my petticoats!

  In the morning I rose tired and grumpy. I would be so glad to get back on the barge and away from the mosquitoes.

  My triumph was short lived; though we were soon back on the river, the dreaded mosquitoes swarmed around us, following us down the stream.

  "Wynn," I said crossly, "they are coming with us."

  "There are lots of mosquitoes in the North," Wynn informed me. "They are one of the area's worst pests."

  "What are the others?" I muttered sarcastically, but Wynn didn't catch the tone of my question.

  "Blackflies," he replied. "Blackflies are another real plague to man and beast alike."

  Wynn was right. The mosquitoes were joined that day by the blackflies. I thought I would be bitten and chewed to pieces. Right before my eyes, new welts would rise on my arms. I hated to think what my face must look like. I was almost frantic with the intensity of the itching.

  Wynn was sympathetic. "I might have something that will help," he offered and went to dig around in his medical supplies.

  He came back with an ointment. It had a vile smell and looked awful, but I allowed him to rub it on anyway. It did help some, though it didn't seem to discourage the dreadful insec
ts from taking further bites out of me.

  "Why didn't they bother us yesterday?" I asked Wynn.

  "The wind and the rain kept them away."

  "Really?"

  "They can't fly well in strong wind. They are too light, and they don't care for the rain either." I was ready to pray for more wind and rain. Anything to be rid of the miserable pests.

  I guess I eventually got used to them. I was able to think about other things after a while and even to again enjoy, in a sense, my trip.

  In the late afternoon, Wynn pointed out a mother bear and her two cubs. She was foraging at a bend in the river. Perhaps she was fishing, because she was staring intently at the water, seeming to ignore the barge completely as we went by.

  The cute cubs took my mind off the mosquitoes and flies for a few minutes while I considered having a cub for a pet.

  It was already getting dusk before we pulled into River's Bend, the place where we were to spend the night. Wynn lifted me ashore as there was no dock This didn't make sense to me.

  "Why is it," I asked, "that there's no dock and yet this is the place where all our things need to be unloaded? Isn't it going to be an awful job carrying all those heavy trunks and crates ashore?"

  Wynn rewarded me with a broad smile. Apparently he liked a wife who was observant.

  "The dock is around the bend in the river. Our things will be unloaded there. There are also a couple of temporary buildings and a Hudson's Bay Post, but I thought you might prefer to use this trapper's cabin. It is more private, though I'm afraid not luxurious. I've made arrangements with Pierre to use it for the night."

  "Who's Pierre?"

  "He runs the post."

  "Is he married?"

  "Nope. He batches. And his quarters are even worse than Charlie's."

  I couldn't even imagine what that would be like.

  "I dot it want you to have to stay in those kinds of conditions again," Wynn stated firmly. "I know it must have been extremely offensive to you.

  I thought back to Charlie's. The smelly, crowded cabin. The cursing, drinking, card-playing men. No, I wasn't particularly interested in that again either. I was pleased Wynn had made other arrangements.