[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (27 page)

I wasn't sure how many of my English words the two women
understood, so I used hand gestures to accompany them.

Mrs. Sam was shaking her head. She turned at the door and looked
at me.

"Not stay," she said clearly.

"Oh, she must stay," I persisted. "She needs lots of care yet. She
couldn't possibly care for herself for many days."

But Mrs. Sam still shook her head. "Not stay," she insisted. "She
go-soon."

Mrs. Sam was right. When we got up the next morning, Mary was
not there. How she ever managed to drag herself from our home and
back to her cabin I'll never know. She had been so weak and her feet
so swollen, and yet she was gone. Wynn immediately went after her.
She was already home-sitting in her cold cabin, her scanty blankets
wrapped around her. She refused to move.

He gathered wood and built her a fire and made her a cup of tea
from the supplies he always carried with him. Then he spent the morning gathering a wood supply for her.

He went out with his rifle and was rewarded in his hunt with a
buck deer which he cleaned and hung in a tree close to Mary's cabin.
Preserved by the cold, it would supply meat for many weeks for the
lone woman.

He gave her instructions about caring for her feet, unloaded all of
the food supplies he had with him, and left her.

I cried when Wynn told me. I . felt so sorry for the little woman all
alone there.

"There is nothing more we can do," Wynn comforted me. "If we
brought her back here, she would only run away again; and next time
she might not make it."

I knew he was right. He had done the best he knew how for Mary.
We hoped it was enough to keep her alive.

Storm after storm hit the little settlement. We lived from one day
to the next, accepting the weather as it came. On the good days, when
the wind calmed down, I went out with Kip. On the days of snow and
wind, I shivered and stayed in. I came to hate wind. Not only was it
cold and miserable, but it was confining and, I was soon to learn,
deadly.

One brisk, windy morning, Wynn returned from the Hudson's Bay
Store where he had gone for a few needed supplies and reported that
he had to take a trip south.

"Today?" I asked incredulously. It was bitterly cold. The windchill
must have lowered the temperature to -50°F or worse.

"Now," he answered, "I'm on my way as soon as I get the team."

Wynn came into the cabin long enough to add some extra clothing
to what he was already wearing and to pack his supply sack with more
food and medical equipment. I felt panic seizing me as I noticed his
precautions. It looked as though he expected delays.

"I may not make it back home tonight, Elizabeth," he said,
straightening up and drawing me into his arms. "Don't worry about
me. There are several trappers' shacks along the trail, and if the storm
gets any worse I can take cover. Do you have everything you need?"

Me? I was all right. He was the one going out into the storm.
Wynn checked the wood supply.

"There is plenty more wood stacked right outside the door if you
should run out," he informed me. "Don't leave the cabin until you are
sure the storm is over. And then if you do go out, be sure to take Kip."

I nodded. It sounded as if he was planning to be gone forever! Tears
welled up in my eyes.

"I'll be fine," he said, brushing the tears away tenderly. "I love
you."

I tried to tell him that I loved him too; but it was difficult to get
the words out. My throat felt tight and dry.

"Where-where are you going?" I finally managed to ask.

"Word just came in that a trapper out near Beaver Falls hasnt been
seen for a couple of weeks. His friend says he always shows up at his
place for a Friday night card game, but he hasn't been there for two
Fridays now. He's worried about him."

"Doesn't he have a cabin?"

"They checked it out. He's not there."

"If he's been gone for two weeks," I said, annoyed, "why didn't
someone report it before-when the weather was decent?"

"I can't answer that; but it's been reported now, and I have to go."

I was angry with the careless trapper. I was disgusted with his friend
who had let it go for so long without reporting it. I was even a little
put out with Wynn for taking his duty so seriously. Surely it would be
wiser to wait until the weather improved.

I kissed him goodbye and let him go, because there was nothing
else I could do.

Even Kip wasn't much help in filling in the long day. I talked to
him and fed him and petted him, but my heart was with Wynn. I hope
he makes it home before dark, I anguished inwardly.

Night came and Wynn did not come. I sat up, curled in a blanket
and tucked between pillows, on our cot. Kip snuggled at my feet, now
and then lifting his head to listen intently to the sounds of the night. I
heard the howl of a wolf above the wind, and Kip heard it too. He
stirred restlessly but did not answer the cry.

I watched the fire closely. If Wynn returned-no, ' when Wynn
returned-he would be chilled and would need the warmth.

I dozed off now and then; each time I awakened, I strained to hear
footsteps approaching the cabin. They did not come. Toward morning
I finally gave in and fell asleep.

I awoke to find the cabin fairly shaking with the wind. The fire
was nearly out, and I quickly went for more fuel to build it up. The
wind seemed to scream through every crack and crevice of our little home. The temperature dropped further and the snow swirled all
around the cabin. Even Kip seemed to be uneasy.

All day I kept the fires burning. I knew I would soon be drawing
on the supply from outside. I wondered about the Indian families.
They weren't as well stocked for wood as I had been. Surely by now
they would have exhausted their supplies. I wished there was some way
of bringing them to the warmth and protection of our cabin. With my
fingers, I scratched a spot in the frost on the window and looked out.
I could not see the buildings of the settlement. I could not even see
the birch tree that grew about fifteen feet from the door. All I could
see was angry, swirling snow.

I tried to drink a cup of tea, but my hands shook when I lifted the
cup to my mouth. I was on the verge of tears, but I knew that tears
would do no good.

I fed the fire, I prayed, I walked the floor, I prayed, I read my
Bible, I prayed; and somehow this even longer second day of storm
passed by, hour by hour.

Another night, and still Wynn had not come. Again I did not go
to bed. Kip whined uneasily and pressed his nose against my hand. I
stroked his rich, fluffy fur and spoke to him in caressing tones, but I
could not keep my tears from falling as I did so.

Somehow we made it through another night. We awoke to another
day of snow and wind. I thought I couldn't stand it any longer. The
wind was driving me mad with its incessant howling. I clung to my
Bible and prayed until I felt utterly exhausted. Mid-morning, after
reading, weeping, and praying for what seemed like hours, I fell asleep.
The long days and sleepless nights had taken their toll, and my body
demanded some rest even if my mind fought against it.

When I awoke, I could scarcely believe my eyes. Sunshine! The
wind had stopped. The snow was no longer falling. The storm had
passed. I wanted to shout; I wanted to run. I wanted to break out of
my confining cabin and find human companionship. How had they all
fared through the storm? And I wondered about Wynn. Now that the
storm was over, he would soon be home. I must have a hot meal ready
for him.

It was then that I realized the fires were no longer burning. I must get them started again quickly. I had only a few more pieces of wood
that I had brought in from outside, but there was plenty more by the
door. I rushed to get some. But I could not budge the door. I pushed
again, not understanding; but it would not give. The .snow! It had
drifted us in. I tried again. Surely we wouldn't be shut in here for long.
Surely, with enough strength, I could get it open. I tried again and
again, but the door would not move.

I let the fire in the kitchen stove go out and just kept the fireplace
burning in order to conserve the little fuel I had. Wynn would soon be
here. Surely the fuel would last until then. When he came, he would
dig us out and all would be well again.

But the day wore on and Wynn did not come.

I walked to my window and scratched a spot to look down at the
settlement. I could see smoke rising from cabins. There was stirring
about as people and dogs moved among the buildings. I tried to wave,
but I knew that was foolish. There was no way anyone could detect a
hand waving in my small, frosted window. I put the last stick of wood
on my fire and waited again. Surely Wynn will soon be here, I told Kip
silently.

The fire burned out. I wrapped myself in blankets and huddled on
the cot. Even that was cold. I began to fear for my hands and feet. I
picked up the heavy fur rug from the floor and wrapped myself in that,
too. It was bulky, but it did offer some protection. Kip whined to go
out, but there was no way I could let him. I thought of trying to push
him through the window, hoping that he might run down to the settlement and attract someone's attention concerning my plight. But the
window was too small for Kip's nearly full-sized body.

Night was coming again. I bundled myself up as best I could and
tried to go to sleep. I fell asleep praying.

I vaguely remember stirring once or twice during the night and
feeling terribly cold. In my benumbed state, I couldn't sort out the
reason for the cold. Kip stirred, too, and I pulled the blankets more
tightly around myself and dozed off again, Kipp curled up on my feet.
He felt heavy, but I did not make him move.

"Hallo. Hallo in there." A voice finally brought me to consciousness. I struggled out of my blanket covering and hurried to the door. It still would not open. "I can't open the door," I called as loudly as I
could. I heard shovels then. Someone was digging us out. It was
McLain and a couple of the Indian men. I was glad to see them, but I
was disappointed that Wynn wasn't with them. When the door was
finally cleared enough for them to enter the house, my first question
was, "Have you heard from my husband?"

McLain paused for a moment and looked around. "Have you
heard from Wynn?" I asked again.

"No, not yet, ma'am; but he'll be all right."

I took what comfort I could from his words. I wondered if McLain
knew what he was talking about or if he was simply trying to put my
mind at ease.

"How are you?" he asked me.

"I'm fine-I think," I answered, trying my arms and legs to make
sure they still moved properly. "I was never so glad to see anyone in
my life! Thank you."

"How long have you been without heat?"

"Just overnight."

"That's too long," the big man said, reaching for my hand. "How
are your fingers?"

"Fine."

"Your feet?"

"Okay.11

"Let's see them."

I started to protest, but he would have none of it. "Let's see your
feet, Mrs. Delaney."

I went to my bedroom to remove my long stockings and padded
out again in my bare feet. The cabin floor was ice cold. Mr. McLain
sat me in a chair and looked at each foot in turn.

"You're a mighty lucky lady," he said at last. "I don't know how
you kept them from freezing."

"Kip slept on them," I said, suddenly remembering.

"What?"

"Kip. My dog. He slept on them. I remember waking up in the
night and I could feel the heaviness from his body on my feet."

"Well, I'll be," Mr. McLain said, and then he began to laugh. "Well, boy," he said, running a hand through Kip's fine fur, "I guess
you're more'n just pretty."

One of the Indian men had been working on a fire in the fireplace.
It was burning briskly now.

"We've gotta thaw this here place out," said McLain and crossed to
the kitchen stove. "This here water in the pail is frozen solid."

It was. So was the basin, and so was, I discovered to my dismay,
my china teapot. It had split right down the side from the force of the
freezing tea. All of those days of enjoying tea with friends were behind
me. I wanted to sit right down and cry, but the men were bustling all
about, and I didn't want them to see my hurt. Besides, I was still worried about Wynn.

"Better get your feet dressed again," said Mr. McLain, and I realized I was still puttering about in my bare feet.

I obeyed, slipping into my nice warm moccasins and then I went
to my kitchen to see what other damage had been done. A few tins of
food were split from frost as well. The pail was okay. I guess the dipper
sitting in it had given the ice an upward, rather than outward, thrust.
The kettle I wasn't sure about. I would have to wait until it thawed
before I would know if it would still hold water without leaking.

The basin was okay, too. It had slanted sides and the ice just
seemed to move up them. There really hadn't been too much damage.
And, thankfully, I still had all my fingers and toes.

"We didn't see any smoke from your chimney this morning. Gave
us quite a scare," Mr. McLain was saying.

"I was scared, too," I admitted. "I didn't know when someone
might come."

"The storm was tough on everyone. Nimmie has a whole Fort fill
of people that she's trying to get hot food into. A number of the families ran out of wood."

"Was anyone-?" I started to ask if any lives had been taken by the
storm, but I couldn't finish the question. I was half-sick with worry
about Wynn.

Mr. McLain surmised the question and hesitated for a moment,
then answered slowly.

"We lost a few-mostly older ones. A little girl died, too. She was always sickly, and this cold was just too much for her. It's been hard on
Nimmie. The girl was one of her special pets."