[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (11 page)

A new desire stirred within me, a desire not just to teach Wynn's
people how to read and write, but how to find and worship God as
well. Funny. I had never met them-not any of them-yet I felt as if
I already loved them.

After a teary last farewell, we were on our way. I felt sad and excited
all at the same time. I couldn't really understand or sort out what was
going on inside of me. Wynn sensed my feeling and allowed me some
quiet thoughts. On occasion he did point out things of interest, but he
didn't push me for enthusiasm. The first several miles of the trip I had
seen many times, as it took us through Red Deer and Lacombe. As the
train stopped in Lacombe, I looked closely for someone on the street
whom I might know; I was about to conclude that there was no one
when Phillip, Lydia, and young Phillip-Wynn's brother, sister-in-law,
and nephew-came aboard, ushering Wynn's mother down the aisle.

"The conductor says they will be here for a few minutes, so he will
give us warning when they are about to leave," Phillip informed us.

We soon became busily engaged in conversation, catching up on
all of the area news. It was no time until the conductor came to tell us
that the train would be ready to leave again in about five minutes. We
hated to see them go but were so glad for the time we were able to
spend together. It was the first I had been able to call Mrs. Delaney,
Sr., Mother, and I took pleasure in doing so.

"God bless you, Elizabeth," she said. "It isn't as hard for me to let
Wynn go this time, knowing he will be well looked after. You take care,
though. From what Wynn has said in the past, the North can be a
lonely place for a woman."

I tried to assure Mother Delaney that I would be fine and was quite
prepared for all that lay ahead. I wasn't quite as sure of myself as I tried
to sound. With every mile of the whirling train wheels, my stomach
tied into a little tighter knot. Had it not been for Wynn beside me, I'm
sure I would have panicked and bolted long before we had reached
even Lacombe.

I tried to concentrate on the small settlements through which we
passed. It was not easy. My mind was on other things. Even when
Wynn spoke cheerily, pointing out this or that, I still couldn't get
enthused-though I did try.

I finally decided I must be tired and what I needed was sleep, so I
curled up beside Wynn with my head against his shoulder and tried to
do just that. It didn't work. My mind was far too busy. Sleep would
not come. I heard soft breathing coming from my husband and realized he had been successful. I was glad for him. He was even more
tired than I, I was sure. I hoped he would rest well. I tried to sit very
still so as not to disturb him. I might have been still, but the train was
not. We made another jerky stop and then, with a hiss and a chug, we
began shifting this way and that in an effort to disengage some of the
cars.

Wynn quickly awoke and stirred slightly. I knew by the way he
moved that he was afraid of waking me, so I sat up and smiled at him.

"It's all right," I assured him. "I'm already awake."

"Did you get any rest?" he inquired, concern in his voice.

"Rest, yes. Sleep, no," I answered.

"I'm sorry. Guess I dozed off there for a while."

"Not for long," I informed him. "You might have if the train didn't
keep stopping at every little house and teepee."

Wynn chuckled. "That's the way it seems, doesn't it? Well, it isn't
too much farther to Edmonton now."

"What happens at Edmonton?"

"We spend the night. I have a short meeting in the morning with
some officials before we move on. You can sleep late if you like."

"When do we leave?"

"Not until about eleven."

"When do I need to be up?"

"I wouldn't think until about nine-unless you want to see a bit of
the city."

"I think I'll pass," I said, smiling tiredly. "Even nine sounds way
too early."

When I awoke the next morning, Wynn, as promised, had left me
sleeping. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was already after nine, so I climbed quickly from my bed. I would need to hurry if I was to be
ready when Wynn came back for me.

I had just finished doing my hair when Wynn's key turned in the
lock.

"You're up," he greeted me. "I was afraid you might oversleep."

"I did. A little," I admitted. "I really had to hurry to make up for
lost time."

"I don't think your sleeping time was lost time," he assured me.
"You needed that."

He crossed to kiss me. "You look more rested," he stated. "How
do you feel?"

I smiled. "Fine," I returned, trying to hide any anxiety I might feel.
"Ready to start the trip to your wilderness."

He gave me a big bear hug. "Then let's get going," he said. "You
still need some breakfast before we start out."

We continued our trip by river barge, a new experience for me. At
first I was rather apprehensive. The day was cloudy and overcast and I
didn't feel too safe on the free-floating contraption. It was guided along
the river with only the help of long poles held in the hands of the men
in our crew

Wynn said that in the earlier days we would have been able to
make the same trip on the North Saskatchewan in the comfort of a
sternwheeler cabin, but with the advent of the railroads the boats had
lost business and had been retired. There was no railroad to take us
where we wanted to go, and so now we traveled on the flat barge,
allowing the river to carry us along as it flowed northeast. The men
who owned and operated the boat did not believe in wasting fuel on
the downriver trip. Coming back upriver, they would put a simple
motor to work.

The sky looked like it might pour down rain. I wasn't sure how
this odd boat would function if the waters started coming down from
above. Would it still stay afloat?

The seats provided weren't all that comfortable, and I soon was
aching for a chance to stand up and walk around a bit. There didn't
seem to be any opportunity, as nearly every square foot of the barge
was piled high with something. I couldn't believe the amount of cargo it had heaped within its bulging sides. I looked around for our trunks
and crates and almost panicked when I didn't see them. Wynn must
have read my thoughts.

"They're over there under the canvas," he stated simply, putting
my mind at ease.

"Want to stretch?" he asked after many minutes had passed by.

"I'd love to," I responded quickly, "but where?"

"Come," he said, holding out a hand to me. "I think we can manage a few minutes of it."

It was difficult. We had to step over things, around things, duck
under things, and hang on for dear life. The wind was up, and at times
the river was rough. I tied my scarf more tightly under my chin and
told Wynn that I would be fine for the time being. We returned to our
uncomfortable seats.

In the early afternoon the rains came. There wasn't any place to go
to avoid them. Wynn found some kind of slicker and wrapped it
tightly around me. The wind kept whipping and tearing at it, making
it difficult to keep all sides of me under it at any given moment. I
could feel patches of wet spots grow bigger and bigger. I tried not to
think about them, but it wasn't easy. The rainwater was cold and the
increasing wind made it even colder. In a few hours' time, I was really
miserable but I tried hard not to show it.

Wynn kept fussing over me-shifting the makeshift shelter this
way and that, tightening it here, and tucking it in there. In the meantime, he, too, was getting wet. Those operating the barge seemed to
take the storm for granted. They had likely been wet many times
before while making this run.

As the day passed, the sky was getting darker and the rains heavier.
I wondered if we would travel all night long. How far would we go on
this river anyway? I had heard the word Athabasca, but I didn't think
that was our destination.

Wynn came to tell me, "We're going to pull in early tonight. We'll
try to dry out a bit. There's a little trading post ahead where we can
take shelter. We should have gone farther tonight, but we'll wait for
morning."

I shivered and nodded my head thankfully. It was good news to
me.

It wasn't long until the shouting and straining of the barge crew
told me that we were going ashore. There was a jolt and a thump as
we hit some kind of dock in the darkness. Then Wynn was there to
help me to solid ground. The wind and rain loosened my scarf, and
soon my hair was tumbling crazily about my face. I tried to tuck it
back again but I really didn't have a free hand. I gave up and decided
to just let it blow.

We headed for a dark shape in the gathering gloom. Then I spotted
a light in a misty window. Though faint, the light did signal humanity;
and I breathed a prayer of thankfulness as I tried, with Wynn s help, to
hurry toward it.

The smell of wood smoke reached my nose, and I thought of the
wonderful warmth that would go with it. I hurried faster. In my eagerness to get to the house, I did not see the tree stump in my pathway.

"Watch out!" Wynn cried when he saw what was about to happen,
but it was too late. I banged my shin hard against the tough wood, and
let out a sharp little cry at the stinging pain.

Wynn kept me from falling, but from there to the house I stumbled along, limping painfully. Wynn asked to carry me but I stubbornly
shook my head.

When we reached what I had thought to be a house and stumbled
through the door, I was disappointed to see that it was no house at all.
It was a shed-a shed for trade. Boxes and crates and heaps and piles
were stacked all around the single room in a haphazard fashion. One
dim lamp sat upon a makeshift counter, throwing out an anemic light.
The single window was so stained and dirty I wondered how I had
been able to see the light from outside at all.

In the corner of the room was what looked like a stack of furs.
Upon closer observation, I discovered that it was, instead, a bed-of
sorts. I shuddered to think of sleeping there.

"Howdy," a voice said, and I whirled to see an ill-kempt man sitting beside the potbellied stove in the middle of the crowded room.
He let fly with a line of dark spit that missed an open can, spattering
against the side of the stove, causing a sizzling sound. He had not risen
to meet us and he did not move now.

Wynn jerked his head at the man. "Howdy, Charlie," he said. "Mind if we borrow your chair for a minute? My wife just gave her leg
an awful whack on that tree stump you've got out front."

It was the room's only chair, and Charlie rose reluctantly with a
grunt of disgust.

Wynn sat me down and lifted my skirt to get a good look at my
injury.

"Bring your lamp, would you, Charlie?"

From the tone of Wynn's voice, I knew that, though it was Charlie's
lodging, Wynn was in charge here. Everyone knew it.

Charlie brought the lamp. My leg was bleeding, seeping through
my torn stocking, making a sticky dark patch.

"You've got to get out of those stockings," Wynn said to me.

I looked helplessly about the room. There was no place to go.

"But I can't," I insisted, casting a nervous glance at Charlie.

"Turn your back, Charlie," Wynn ordered, and the grumbling
Charlie obeyed. The light of the lamp turned with him. I felt a bit
more comfortable in the semi-darkness and hastened to raise my skirt
and unfasten the garters that held up my ruined stocking. I slipped it
down as quickly as I could and let my skirt drop back in place. Charlie
shifted from one foot to the other and spit again. I don't know where
that one landed. Weakly I sat back down.

"Okay," said Wynn, "let's have the lamp, Charlie."

Charlie turned around. For one awful moment, I feared he might
spit in my direction. He didn't. He stood holding the lamp nervously,
trying not to look at the leg that Wynn was studying.

"I don't think its too deep," Wynn was saying. "Nothing broken
that-"

"Except my stocking," I interrupted. Wynn's eyebrows went up.

"Legs heal," I said, to inform him. "Stockings don't-and I was
able to bring only a limited number with me."

In spite of himself, Wynn smiled but made no reply.

"Charlie, do you have any first-aid supplies around here?" he asked.

Charlie grumbled and then muttered, "A few things."

"Set the lamp down and get them, please," said Wynn. "I don't
want to have to unload the barge to get at my supply."

Wynn stood up to check the kettle sitting on the stove. It held water and that seemed to please him.

While Wynn cleansed and bandaged my swelling leg, the other
men entered. Apparently they were satisfied that they had secured the
barge against the storm, and now wanted to be in where it was warm
and dry.

They greeted Charlie boisterously. In return, he greeted them with
an oath, a spit, and a slap on the back.

I felt very much out of place. It was apparent that these men didn't
spend much time in the presence of a lady. They joked and swore and
jabbed at one another with harmless fists. One man soon produced a
rum bottle, which they seemed to think was just the thing needed to
take the chill out of their bones.

Wynn took charge because no one else seemed to have any mind
to do so. He put on the coffeepot and asked Charlie for some tins of
food for an evening meal. Charlie seemed reluctant to share until
Wynn reminded him that he would be paid for anything that the
Police Force used. Charlie then produced a couple of tins, and Wynn
set about making some supper.

I offered to help him but he declined my offer. "I think you should
rest that leg all you can. Here, let me help you."

Before I knew what had happened, Wynn lifted me from my spot
on the chair by the stove to the pile of foul-smelling skins in the corner.
I wanted to protest but the words caught in my throat.