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Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Oke, Janette, 1935-

When hope springs new / by Janette Oke.

p. cm.—(Canadian West ; 4)

Summary: “Leaving behind their dear friends in Beaver Creek, Elizabeth and Wynn take over an even more primitive RCMP outpost in the Canadian Northwest. A frontier woman now, Elizabeth had triumphed over the worst life could offer, or had she?”—Provided by publisher.

ISBN 0-7642-0014-3 (pbk.)

1. Women pioneers—Fiction. 2. Northwest, Canadian—Fiction.

I. Title. II. Series: Oke, Janette, 1935- . Canadian West series ; bk. 4.

PR9199.3.038W35 2005
813’.54—dc22 2004024205

Dedicated with love and respect
to my youngest sister,
Sharon Violet Fehr,
another proof of the old saying,
“last but not least.”
I appreciate her faith
and her dedication.
This comes with love—
to her, to her husband Richard,
and to Shawna, Eric and Amy.

JANETTE OKE was born in Champion, Alberta, to a Canadian prairie farmer and his wife, and she grew up in a large family full of laughter and love. She is a graduate of Mountain View Bible College in Alberta, where she met her husband, Edward, and they were married in May of 1957. After pastoring churches in Indiana and Canada, the Okes spent some years in Calgary, where Edward served in several positions on college faculties while Janette continued her writing. She has written more than four dozen novels for adults and children, and her book sales total over twenty-two million copies.

The Okes have three sons and one daughter, all married, and are enjoying their dozen grandchildren. Edward and Janette are active in their local church and make their home near Didsbury, Alberta.

ONE

Uprooted

“Is it much farther?”

I felt like a small child asking again, but I really could not help myself. My whole being seemed to be in a state of agitation as we topped each hill, and the settlement was still not in view.

Wynn smiled understandingly. “Not too far,” he comforted.

He had been saying that for quite a while now.

“How many hills?” I asked, hoping to pin him down to an answer that I could understand.

Now he didn’t just smile, he chuckled. “You sound like a kid asking—‘How many sleeps?”’ he teased me.

Yes, I did sound like a kid. We had been on the trail for what already seemed forever. My common sense reminded me that it really hadn’t been that long—four days, to be exact—but it felt like weeks.

Wynn reached out and squeezed my hand. “Why don’t you ride for a while again?” he asked me. “You’ve walked enough now. You’ll tire yourself out. I’ll see what I can find out from the guide.”

He signaled the driver of the lumbering team to stop and helped me up to a semi-comfortable position on a makeshift seat. We resumed forward motion as he moved on down the line of wagons to seek out the guide of our small, slow-moving expedition.

He wasn’t gone long; and then, without even slowing the wagon, he swung himself up beside me.

“You’ll be happy to know that we should be there in about forty-five minutes,” he said. Giving my shoulders a hug, he hopped down and was gone again.

Forty-five minutes! Well, I would manage somehow, but that still seemed like a long time.

During our four days of travel I had acquired aching bones, a sunburned nose, and a multitude of mosquito and blackfly bites. But it wasn’t these irritations that had me troubled the most.

I realized that my agitation, that hollow, knotted spot in the center of my stomach, was all due to my fear of the unknown. I had not been nearly as frightened when I had come with Wynn to our first northern outpost. Then I had been a new bride, eager to share the adventures of my Mountie husband.

I was still eager to share the adventures with Wynn, but this move was different. I had learned to know and love the Indian people at Beaver River. I had left behind not only the known but the loved. Now I had to start all over again.

I don’t believe I was afraid that I would not be able to make new friends. What worried me was how well I would be able to get along without my
old
friends. I was going to miss Nimmie so much. Surely there was not another person like her in all of the Northland. I would even miss Evening Star and Mrs. Sam and Little Deer and Anna. I would miss Wawasee and Jim Buck and my other students. I would miss the familiar Indian trappers, the simple homes I had visited so often, the curling woodsmoke, even the snarling dogs. Tears welled up in my eyes and slid down my cheeks again.
I must stop this,
I chided myself, as I had done so many times already on the trail.
I will have myself sick before I even arrive.

I pushed my thoughts back to safer ground, making myself wonder what our new home at Smoke Lake would be like. Well, I would not need to wonder for long. Wynn had said forty-five minutes, and the minutes were ticking by, even though slowly, with each rotation of the squeaky wheels.

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