When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West) Page 9
He had lost weight, too. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but he definitely did not weigh as much as he had when we came north. I looked down at my own body. I had lost a few pounds, too, which was reasonable. We were active, walked a lot, and ate few foods that would add pounds to our frames.
I looked at my hands. They were no longer the soft hands of a pampered woman. Time had changed us—time and the northland.
I didn’t know whether to waken Wynn or to let him sleep, so I just sat watching him, undecided.
Suddenly Kip arose and looked toward the door, his head cocked to one side as he listened. Was someone coming?
“No, God, please,” I pleaded. “Don’t let Wynn be needed again tonight.”
By the time I heard the footsteps, Kip was already at the door. I could tell by his bark that whoever was coming was not someone he knew. Kip welcomed most of the settlement people with only a wagging of his tail.
Kip’s barking awakened Wynn and he pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked apologetically at me.
“Sorry. I must have—” but he got no further.
There was stamping at our front door and then someone was banging on it.
Kip’s barking increased, and Wynn rose to his feet and motioned him to go to his corner in silence; Kip obeyed rather reluctantly, I thought.
Wynn opened the door and a man almost fell into the room. The first thing I noticed was his clothes. He was dressed in the uniform of the Royal North West Mounted Police.
Then I noticed that he had a big bundle in his arms. He looked out from around it, and his face, red with the cold of the bitter wind, broke into a sort of frozen smile.
“Sergeant Wynn Delaney?” he asked.
“Right,” said Wynn and moved to relieve him of his heavy load so he would have a free hand to shake in greeting. But the man laughed softly and moved the parcel away from Wynn’s outstretched hand.
“Sorry,” he said, “but I have strict orders to hand this over to Elizabeth Delaney and no one else.” He turned to me. “You’re Mrs. Elizabeth Delaney?”
My mouth must have dropped open in astonishment. “I—I am,” I stammered.
He handed me the parcel as if he was awfully glad to be rid of it. Then he brushed the snow from his parka, pulled off his mitten and reached out a hand to Wynn.
“Carl Havens of the Royal North West Mounted Police,” he said evenly.
I stood with the parcel in my hands, looking wide-eyed at the young officer. How had he gotten to our small cabin in the North? What was he doing here? And where was this strange box from? Wynn was speaking, “Welcome to the North, Carl. Won’t you take off your coat and tell us what this is all about? I believe Elizabeth has just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”
So it was over that fresh pot of coffee in front of our fireplace that Carl Havens filled us in on what he was doing in our area and how he happened to be our Christmas visitor.
He had been stationed in Calgary and had come to know our Julie through the small church there. When he received his new posting, and it was up North, Julie expressed a desire to send a Christmas package to her northern family. Havens checked with the Force and they gave their permission for him to act as courier. And so here was Officer Havens on his way to his posting, which was north and a little east of ours, stopping by to see us with a parcel of goodies from home!
It seemed too good to be true.
The little gifts from Jon and Mary, each of the children, and Julie in particular, should have brightened my Christmas. And I guess it did. It also made me even lonelier. I cried over everything I lifted from its wrappings. The men seemed to understand, and no one tried to talk me out of my tears.
I fixed more sandwiches. Officer Havens was famished, as though he had not eaten for days. I thought of the misery of the trail. It was hard enough traveling it in the warmth of summer. It must be nearly unbearable in the winter’s cold. I wondered how the young Mountie had ever found his way to us in the snow.
“I’m traveling with guides,” he said in answer to our questions. “They are camped down by the trading post. We will spend the night there and then go on in the morning. The man at the store— McLain, is it?—told me where to find you, and of course I couldn’t rest until I got that parcel delivered—and right on time, too.”
He smiled as I wondered just how serious the relationship was between him and Julie. He seemed like a fine young man. He’d be good for Julie.
As we had our coffee and sandwiches I plied him with questions about the family and life in Calgary. Like a fresh breath of home, it was so good to get some news of the outside world.
It was late when he said he must go. His men would be wondering where he was. They had to leave early in the morning.
Wynn invited him back for breakfast the next morning, but he declined. He would eat with his men, he said. Wynn promised to see him before he left, and then he was gone through the snow, just as he had come.
I had a strange feeling as I watched his tall figure depart into the darkness.
“Wynn,” I asked, “was he really here, or have I been dreaming?”
Wynn pointed to the gifts now scattered around our small cabin.
“It looks like he was really here, Beth.”
It had been a long time since Wynn had used my pet name. I blinked back tears, not sure if they were tears of joy or sorrow. I still missed my family. The gifts were nice, but they did not take the place of the ones who had sent them. I also loved my husband dearly. Yes, my choice was the same. As long as Wynn is in the North, I will be here with him.
He took me gently in his arms and kissed away the tear that lay on my cheek.
“It’s been tough this Christmas, hasn’t it?”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry you’ve been so lonesome,” he went on.
“You noticed?”
“I noticed.”
“I thought I was hiding it pretty well.”
He hugged me closer. “I appreciate your trying, Beth, though I would have been more than happy to share it, to talk about it. It might have helped a bit. Sometimes I get lonesome, too. I think about home, about Mother—about the fact that I wasn’t there when Dad passed away. I wish I would have been. I worry some that the same thing might happen with Mother. Every day I pray, ‘Please, God, let me be there this time.’ Does that sound foolish? I mean, can you understand?”
“I understand,” I said as my arms tightened around him. I did understand. Wynn had family, too, that he loved deeply. It wasn’t easy for him to serve in the North. But the people here needed him. It was his commitment to them that kept him with the Force, that kept him here in the small settlement. I had seen the same light of commitment in the eyes of the other young Mountie, Carl Havens. He, too, felt that being a member of the Royal North West Mounted Police was more than a job. It was a calling to serve people. Wynn’s even higher calling to serve his Lord was fulfilled in his responsibilities here among the trappers and Indians.
I reached up to kiss my husband, and with the kiss was a promise—a promise of my love and support here by his side for as long as he felt that the North needed him.
SEVENTEEN
Classes Resume
Jim Buck appeared at my door the next morning. I had not expected to start classes again for another day or two, but Jim either did not understand or pretended not to.
“Come for school,” he said in answer to my puzzled look.
I did not turn him away. He came in and took his place at the table, and I brought him a few books to look at while I finished my morning tasks.
He buried himself in the books and paid no attention to me.
“What about Susie?” I asked him. “If we are having class again, shouldn’t she be here, and Wawasee?”
“They come—maybe,” said Jim, afraid I might change my mind.
“But they don’t know about it,” I continued.
“You bang bell,” responded Jim, solving that dilemma.
After a few moments Wawasee appeared. Tucked in his parka was his beloved scribbler. He proudly showed it to me, every page filled with his drawings. They were very well done, and I marveled that a child of his age, with no training or guidance, could accomplish such beautiful and skilled artwork.
I settled him at the table and assigned him to draw the illustrations on some more word cards. Then I listened to Jim’s reading lesson. He was doing well.
The morning passed and Susie did not appear. I was concerned about her, and after the two boys had gone home and I had eaten my lunch and cleared the table, I decided to go over to Susie’s cabin and see how things were going.
Susie’s mother, Maggie, still lay on the bed in the corner along with her twins. They both looked fine, though one cried vigorously while the other slept through it all.
There was much commotion and confusion in the cabin. An elderly couple was moving in. The woman was going to care for Maggie and the babies, and as the old man also needed her care, she had brought him with her.
Susie had been sent to gather some firewood to keep the fire burning. I thought of the wood supply beside the cabin we used as our schoolhouse. Once we had stopped having classes in the schoolroom, the people of the village had taken advantage of the wood supply and helped themselves. I supposed there would be little left by now.
With two more people moving into the cabin, I wondered where they would sleep. It was already crowded with the family which presently occupied it. Besides Susie, Maggie had two small boys and now there were also the new twins.
I went over to the bedside to talk to Maggie. She still seemed weak. She smiled at me though and nodded her head at each baby.
“Two,” she said to me. I smiled in return.
“How are you, Maggie?” I asked her.
“Not good,” she said, shaking her head; then her face brightened. “But soon.”
“I’ll have the sergeant drop by to see you. He might have some medicine to make you strong faster,” I promised, wondering even as I said it if Wynn had any kind of tonic or vitamins.
“That good,” she said. She lay for a minute and then went on, “Susie hear bell. Want to go. I need today. Now Too Many come. But Susie might go stay with other family in big village. No room here.”
Maggie’s face looked sorrowful at the thought.
“What do you mean?” I asked, horrified at what I thought she meant.
“No room,” Maggie repeated.
I looked about me. She was right. There was no room to put another bed on the floor, yet somehow, two more would need to be squeezed in.
Without even stopping to think or to draw a breath, I said, “I have room. I’ll keep her at my house; then she won’t need to go to the big village, and she will be able to come and see you and help gather your wood, and—”
“That is good,” agreed Maggie. “You take.”
I could hardly wait for Susie to return from her wood gathering so I could tell her the good news. She was coming to stay with me; she could continue with her classes, I rejoiced. She would not need to leave her village or her people.
Susie received the news with quiet joy. Except for the shine in her eyes, I would not have thought she heard me.
She did not tell her mother goodbye, but I noticed their eyes exchange a glance, and I knew that both mother and daughter felt the parting. Susie would be near, so she would be able to return home each day to help in the household tasks and to visit her mother.
We started for our cabin, Susie carrying all she owned in a tiny bundle. I wondered how anyone, even a small girl, could survive with so few belongings.
As we walked silently across the clearing, the sun shone brightly from a cloudless sky, the kind of a day that lends itself to snow blindness because of the intense glare of the winter snow. I saw Susie squinting against it, and I supposed I squinted, too.
Won’t Wynn be surprised when he comes home tonight, I thought. There was not a doubt in my mind but what Wynn would heartily approve of my actions. I was sure he would take in the whole village if he felt it would be for their good.
Kip welcomed Susie with generous wags of his tail. Perhaps he had missed her at class today. She placed her small bundle on the floor and threw her arms around his neck.
“I am going to live with you, Silver One,” she said, calling him by his Indian name.
Kip seemed to like the arrangement. His whole body waved with his enthusiasm.
It was then I noticed a little skipping of my heart. The cabin won’t seem so empty now when Wynn is away. It would be filled with the voice of a child.
EIGHTEEN
Susie
It did make a difference to have Susie in our home. Where it had been quiet and empty before, it now became filled with laughter and childish games. Susie was a bright little thing who loved to chatter and laugh. Kip was her playmate. They romped together on the rug and furniture, and sometimes I was tempted to admonish them to be quiet and still. Then I would think of the house as it used to be, and how it would be again when Susie left us, and I would hold back the command.
Susie’s grasp of English broadened quickly. She loved my books. When I was busy she would pore over them, trying to sound out the words. When I was free she would ask me to read to her, which didn’t take too much coaxing because I loved it as much as she did.
I was careful to send her home for a portion of each day. While she was gone I worked quickly at whatever needed to be done so that when she returned I would be free to spend my time with her.
Some days I dressed warmly and went with her to the woods to help her gather the wood supply for her cabin. We always took Kip along, and he loved the romp through the snow. It was good for all of us, and we returned home with rosy cheeks and shining eyes, delighted by the things we had seen in the forest.
We didn’t neglect Susie’s schoolwork. In fact, I guess we advanced it. We both loved the excitement of learning. Susie shared with me many things about her people, and I told her many things about mine. She was a real help to me in understanding the ways of the Indians, and I had a wonderful chance to learn more of their language.
Though Susie would laugh at my attempts to pronounce some of the strange words, she was a good little teacher and would have me repeat the word over and over until I got it right. In my heart I hoped for the day when she would be standing in front of a classroom, teaching her own people. I was sure now that Wynn and Nimmie were right. One or two of these dear children could open the door to a new world for the entire tribe. Perhaps Susie, with her quick mind and love for laughter, would be the key to that door.
Wynn loved Susie too. At first she was shy around him. She respected the lawman, and perhaps even liked him, but she held back, a gentle smile showing only in her dark eyes.
Kip was certainly not shy. Whenever Wynn returned home, Kip met him at the door with joyous yips and wagging tail. Wynn was hardly allowed to remove his heavy winter wraps before Kip expected a tussle. Wynn would take the big, silver-tipped, furry head between his hands and press his face against the dog’s fluffy coat. Then the two of them would rock back and forth, and often end up rolling on the floor.
Susie watched it all at first, her eyes round with astonishment. I’m sure she had never seen such goings-on before, not with a grown-up. Occasionally Kip would look her direction and whimper, as if inviting her to join them. Then Susie would turn away and come to me to see if I had some task I might wish her to do.
After Kip had been satisfied, Wynn would come to me. At first we weren’t sure how we should conduct ourselves in Susie’s presence. We felt she was probably not used to seeing an embrace and welcoming kiss among adults in the way we were accustomed. Should we, for Susie’s sake, restrain ourselves? We tried that for one day. But we missed it so, we decided that Susie probably could adjust to our way of showing affection. So when Wynn came to the stove to see what was cooking, we embraced and gre
eted one another with a kiss just as we always had done.
At first we noticed Susie’s big black eyes upon us, but as the days went by she seemed to accept it as part of the strange rituals of our household.
Wynn never failed to turn to the little girl with a question about her day. At first she was shy and hesitant, but gradually she became more open. They even shared Indian words I did not yet know. He would ask her a question in her own language and she would answer him, a twinkle in her eyes. This exchange was often followed with laughter, and I took pleasure in their private little jokes.
Susie was quick to observe. When Wynn came in and removed his winter things, he also took off his heavy boots and put on lighter, more comfortable footwear. He sat in the one big chair before the fire to remove the boots. Then he walked, stockingfooted, to our bedroom to get his slippers. Each night his little ritual was the same. Until one evening when Susie changed it.
Wynn had lowered his tired body into his chair and was tugging at the heavy boots. He sat for a moment relaxing the strained muscles, and then rose to go to the bedroom, but there was Susie, standing in front of him, his slippers in her outstretched hand.
Wynn’s eyes first showed surprise, and then he beamed at her. He reached out—not for the slippers but for the little girl. He pulled her to him and hugged her close. Susie did not pull back.
I wondered as I watched if this was the first time Susie had been hugged by a man. Her own father would have been a very busy trapper, often gone from the home and not accustomed to showing his love in this way, though no one could doubt that Indian fathers did love their children. Often they were seen talking and playing with them, their eyes aglow with pride and joy. I often thought as I watched, that had they been called upon to do so, I’m sure they would have given their lives for their children without a moment’s hesitation.