[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (17 page)

When I awoke the next morning, it took me several minutes to
sort out where I was. With the knowledge came some of the hurt of
the night before, but it wasn't as painful as it had been then. I looked
down at myself. I was now covered with blankets. The fur I had struggled with was spread out on the floor by the bed, looking soft and even
inviting. I was still in my clothes, my skirt and blouse now wrinkled as
well as travel-stained. I knew my hair must be a sight-I had not even
removed the pins the night before. They had worked loose in the
night, so now part of my hair hung wildly about my face while part of
it was still caught up with one pin or another. I removed the last pins
and let my hair all tumble about my shoulders, combing my fingers
through it to make some order out of the mess.

At my faintest stirring, Wynn was there, concern and pain in his
face.

"Are you-?" But he didn't finish. Instead, he pulled me into his
arms and held me so tightly I had to fight for air. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth," he whispered, and there was a tremble in his voice.

I looked up at him then and saw his eyes were misted with unshed
tears. It brought my tears again. I clung to Wynn and cried away all
the feelings I had bottled up the night before. He let me cry.

When the tears finally stopped, Wynn tipped my head and looked
deeply into my eyes. Perhaps he was looking for answers to some
unspoken questions. I wasn't quite ready to smile yet, but I was ready
to carry on. I avoided his eyes by shutting mine. He kissed me softly
and then let me go.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. It wasdt until then that I smelled
coffee. Surprisingly, I realized I was hungry. I looked again at my
clothes and my hands.

"I'm not sure what I need the most," I said, "food or a bath."

"How about the food first? Then we'll look after that bath."

I slipped into my shoes and futiley smoothed my skirt. Then I
looked at Wynn. "Where do I go here?" I asked him.

He understood my question. "Out," he answered.

"Just-out?„

He nodded.

"You mean they don't even have any-any-outbuilding here in
the village?"

"We're a quarter of a mile from the village."

"Still-"

"I'll make arrangements as soon as possible," Wynn stated and
turned away to return to whatever he had been doing before I awakened. The pain was in his eyes again. I thought he might be thinking
that he had been right-a girl like me didn't belong in the north country. I blinked back some new tears that stung my eyes and went out.

The day was filled with sunshine. A large flock of birds chattered
in the nearby trees where they were already gathering, making their
plans to return to lands where winter snow would not blow. In the
village, a quarter of a mile away, I heard distant voices and barking
dogs. I breathed deeply of the morning air. The hillsides were covered
with evergreens and scattered with poplar and birch trees.

It was beautiful country. I would make it. I would! I would fix the
house and-and-clean myself up, and I'd prove to Wynn that I could
be happy here-as long as he was with me. A nagging fear gripped me
then. What about all the times Wynn's duties would take him elsewhere? Like last night? He had to care for the borrowed team. He
couldn't just turn them over to the Hudson's Bay trader. That man had
his own responsibilities. Wynn had done only what needed to be done,
and yet ... It was going to take a lot of resolve on my part to create a
home, a happy home, in Wynn's wilderness. I couldn't crumble like I
had last night every time I faced difficulties, every time modern conveniences were not at my disposal. I wanted to be happy here. Most of
all, I wanted to make Wynn happy. I was going to need help. I knew
of only one true source readily available to me. I stopped for a few
moments of prayer.

By the time I returned to the cabin, I had myself in hand again.
Wynn was busy with the crates. He had carried my trunk to the bedroom and placed it beside the wall under the one lone window. I
opened the lid, hoping to find a more suitable skirt and blouse in
which to be seen at breakfast; but the ones I lifted from the trunk were
just as wrinkled as those I wore. I gave up and went to see if I could
find a basin to wash my hands. Wynn had already set one out, and a
towel was hanging on a peg beside it.

I washed and moved on to the stove. The coffeepot was sending
out a delightful aroma and Wynn had made a batch of pancakes that
needed only to be poured on the griddle. It was hot and ready, so I
began to spoon out the batter. The sizzle and the good smell made my
stomach beg for a taste. .

Wynn was soon in the kitchen beside me. "Smells good," he said,
his hands on my shoulder behind me. "I had a tough time waiting."

"Why didn't you go ahead-or waken me?"

"I thought you needed the rest. And I didn't want to start my first
day without you."

I swallowed hard and willed away the tears. That was all over now.
I needed to put it firmly behind me.

"So what do you think?" I said, in order to initiate conversation.

"Think?" asked Wynn.

"About the cabin," I went on.

"It's bigger than I had dared to hope." Wynn sounded pleased, and
I realized for the first time that he was right. I had seen three rooms in
the darkness. I had been hoping for at least two. I had not even
thought till now to be thankful.

I smiled at Wynn now. "That's right. I had hoped for a private
bedroom, and it has a private living area as well." I looked around me.
It wasn't much, this living area, but it had possibilities. There was the
fireplace, with one small chunk of the fur I had yanked down the night
before still dangling over it. There was a window looking out to the
east and the village. There was the cot with the hard-looking covering,
the, well-the easy chair. Nearer at hand were the stove, some makeshift cupboards, the table and two chairs, and a stand where the basin
and two large pails of water rested.

"Where'd they come from?" I asked Wynn. I had not noticed the
pails the night before, and they weren't the ones from the teacherage
that I had given Wynn to pack for our use.

"I borrowed them," he answered simply. "I thought you'd be aching for a bath last night so I asked McLain for them. It took us awhile
to heat that much water-I guess I would have been wiser to have
hurried back instead of waiting on it."

I looked at the heavy pails. They were filled almost to the brim.
Wynn had carried them full of hot water the night before-for a quarter of a mile-hurrying and stumbling through the dark so I might
have a bath. And what had he found? A childish woman who had cried
herself to sleep under a musty old hide.

I crossed to Wynn, the pancake turner still in my hand. I reached
my arms up and tightened them around his neck. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

He held me and kissed me. We didn't speak. I guess we were both
busy sorting out thoughts. The smell of burning pancakes pulled me
back to reality. Fortunately, they weren't so burned we couldn't eat
them. In fact, after the dried and canned trail fare, they tasted good.

Wynn helped unpack our crates and trunks. It took us all morning
to sort through our things and get them into the rooms where they
would be used. After a light lunch, Wynn had some things to attend
to at the store. I assured him I would be just fine. I was going to be
very busy with a scrub brush and hot, soapy water.

I was scrubbing out the shelves which would be our kitchen cupboards when I heard men's voices. I expected a knock on our door, but
after several minutes when none came I went to the window and cautiously looked out. Two men, with a team of horses and a dilapidated
old wagon piled with rough lumber, were busily studying a large sheet
of paper and arguing over the right way to go about their assigned task.
They must have figured something out, for soon shovels, hammers and
saws were industriously put to work. I was puzzled at first; and then as
the small building began to take shape in the late afternoon, I realized
Wynn had lost no time in keeping his promise. There was to be a
private outbuilding-and soon. I felt a pang at having caused Wynn this additional problem, but at the same time I was greatly relieved. I
couldn't imagine living for very long without some kind of accommodation.

I kept scrubbing and cleaning, and the men outside continued
pounding. My back began to ache and my arms cramp. Still I kept on.
I was determined to have a clean house by nightfall.

I did the cupboards, the windows, the floors. I wiped off the mattress of the bed and managed to drag it outside for a bit of air and
sunshine. I pulled the hard seat covering of the cot out into the sun,
too. Then I washed all our dishes and pots and pans and put them on
the newly scrubbed shelves. I arranged tins and cans of food on the
remainder of the shelves, stacking some things on the floor. There just
wasn't room for everything to be put away. Certain items, like the dishpan, the frying pan, and some of the utensils, I hung on the pegs on
the wall.

It didn't make a particularly tidy-looking kitchen, but it was clean,
and I was pleased. I put away the thought of asking Wynn for doors
on my cupboards to conceal all the clutter. It was enough that I was
getting the little outbuilding and, as I considered it the far more important of the two, I would just do without the cupboard doors-or I
would think of some way to conceal the shelves myself.

It was getting late in the afternoon when I went out to retrieve the
mattress from the stumps where I had propped it in the sun. It was
even harder to drag back in than it had been to get it out; but after
much tugging and yanking, I finally managed to get it back in on the
bed. I made up the bed then with clean sheets and blankets. How good
it would be to have our own clean bed to sleep in again. I took my
clothes from the trunk and hung them on the pegs in the wall. They
were still wrinkled, but I would have to wait to get to that. I couldn't
do everything in one day.

By the time Wynn arrived home, the house was in quite good
order-that is, the two rooms which we considered our house. The
large room that was to be Wynn's office still needed to be arranged, but
Wynn had told me to leave that to him. We had been delighted and
surprised at the discovery of a storage room off the bedroom. Our
crates, boxes, and supplies could all be kept there, out of our living accommodations. Wynn had placed the crates in the little room as we
had emptied them that morning.

Our supper that night came from tins of North West Mounted
Police rations. I had no other meat and no vegetables of any kind. It
was a simple meal, but we ate with a deep feeling of satisfaction. We
were where we belonged, doing what we felt called to do. We had a
home, and we had one another. True, there was much more that
needed to be done before we were settled, but we had made a good
start. I forgot my tired arms and back and chatted with Wynn about
all the possibilities the little cabin held. I looked out of my window to
the rough little shanty with its crooked door and crude shingles and
felt more thankful for it than for the fanciest bathroom. "Thanks,
Wynn," I said, "for having that little building built so soon. I appreciate
your thoughtfulness."

"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.

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."