Heart of the Wilderness (18 page)
George chose the first of Kendra’s trips on the trapline carefully. The sky was clear, the day bright, and the temperature moderate for a winter’s day in the area. Even so, he had misgivings. He had not forgotten the words of a very young Kendra when she had turned from him, pain in her eyes and screamed, “I hate you. I hate you.”
How would Kendra respond to seeing animals caught in the traps? It was not a pretty sight.
But Kendra surprised him. She turned her eyes from the first animal, an otter, curled and frozen, his head resting on the very trap that held him prisoner on the red-stained snow.
From then on, Kendra spoke of the animals in terms of the price of the pelt. Her knowledge surprised George. He had not realized just how much she had learned about the worth of furs and how to tell a fair skin from a superior one.
He took her again the next day. It was fun to have her company on the trail. George lost count of their trips after their third time out together. From then on, she went often. Kendra was soon more than company. She was actually a great help.
A storm moved in, dropping the temperature and swirling snow about the cabin.
“I don’t think you’d better come with me today,” George announced firmly. Kendra looked out on the storm. It was one of the worst she had seen in her few winters.
“I don’t think
you
should go either,” she told him.
“I have to,” he answered without even giving it thought. “The traps need to be checked every day.”
Kendra knew that George always traveled the line each day when he had the traps out.
“Why?” she asked now, surprising her grandfather. “The animals won’t stir about in this weather anyway.”
“But there may be something in a trap already.”
“You can get them when the storm is over,” said Kendra.
“I don’t want them to suffer needlessly,” put in her grandfather.
Kendra looked up, her eyes big. “They’re dead,” she reminded him frankly.
Her words caught George totally by surprise. Yes. They were dead. Any trapped animal would be dead in a very short time in the frigid temperatures. But what if—what if—? No, he wouldn’t take that chance. He would not have an animal suffering through a storm.
Nonie no longer made her trips to the cabin when George was away from home. Kendra did not need child care. But the girl missed Nonie. Often on the days that she didn’t go with George to check the traps, she paid a call on Nonie in the settlement. The elderly woman always welcomed her with smiles and soft words. Kendra knew she was loved.
The years were telling on Nonie. She seemed to much prefer the fireside to stirring about outside in the cold.
George made sure the elderly woman had a constant supply of wood. He often wished he could stack the fireplace logs up beside her door and then be done with it. But he knew that wouldn’t work. Any of the other residents would feel quite free to use from the pile as well, and Nonie would soon be out of fuel for her fire.
So every other day George had to take Nonie another load, which he placed in her cabin. The time cut dreadfully into his workday, but he feared that Nonie would go cold if he didn’t care for her.
Kendra also helped, gathering wood from the nearby forests and carrying it in her arms to the old woman’s cabin. It was a chore that kept both George and Kendra busy over the winter months.
When Kendra was thirteen, one of George’s team members produced a summer litter. Kendra spent much of her time playing with the puppies. By the time they had been weaned, she had made her picks. “I want this one and this one and this one . . .” she told her grandfather. She didn’t stop until she had pointed out five of the eight puppies.
“What are you planning to do with all those dogs? They do need to be fed, you know.”
“I’ll make them work for their keep,” Kendra said confidently.
“Work. How?”
“I’ll use the old sled,” said Kendra. “I can haul the firewood to Nonie and get supplies from the trading post and—and—”
“Whoa,” laughed her grandfather. “I get the picture. But are you sure? A dog team is a lot of work.”
“I know,” replied Kendra. “But they are a lot of help too.”
Kendra got her pups and could hardly wait until they were big enough to start training for the sled.
Kendra sat at the table close to the crackling fire. The night was cold again. She could hear the wind moaning outside the log frame, but she paid little attention to its mournful song. Her nose was buried in a book. George had sent for a new supply by mail. Kendra drank in the information, but it never seemed to be quite enough. She had so many unanswered questions. If Nonie’s stories were just myth, then how did things really come to be? Kendra had studied nature enough to be dissatisfied with trite answers. There had to be a logical reason for the universe with all of its complexity and intrigue. There just had to.
She lifted her head suddenly. Her eyes looked off into the distance, past the shadows of the flickering lamplight, her thoughts far away.
“I want a trapline of my own,” she said suddenly, turning to her grandfather.
The wish was out. She had dared to voice it.
George looked up from the trap he was cleaning, surprised by her words. She had been working with him on the traplines now for three winters. She handled the snowshoes as if she had been born with them as an extension to her feet. She could mush the dogs and handle the sled. George had spent time with her in rifle practice until he had total confidence in her ability to wisely and accurately use the gun. She knew the rules of the trail, could read the signs, and knew the laws of survival. She had become skilled at skinning without damaging the pelts. She could work the skins carefully over the stretchers, putting on just the right pressure without causing rips or weak spots. Kendra was a real product of her wilderness setting and quite at home in her surroundings.
Still George hesitated. Was he ready to let her have her own trapline? It didn’t seem the right place for a young girl. He knew the dangers. Many an experienced man had lost his life to the trapline.
“Do you really think—?” he began, but Kendra stopped him.
“You’ve been my teacher,” she said frankly. “And I think you’ve done it well. Nonie says I know as much as some of the village men.”
George could not hide his smile. In his thinking, Kendra knew a good deal more than most of them.
“I don’t know,” he said again. “Some of those traps—”
“I won’t use the biggest ones. I’ll just go for the smaller game,” offered Kendra.
“But the—the weather? The cold?” George thought of the bitter winds and the times when he had feared that he himself might perish in a storm.
“I’ll be careful,” put in Kendra. “I’ll keep my line closer to the cabin.”
“Of course—if it was really cold you could leave things go for a day or two,” her grandfather thought out loud. “Lots of trappers do.”
“I—I wouldn’t want the animals to suffer,” Kendra echoed her grandfather’s own words. “I’ll be careful.”
George nodded, still reluctant to let the young girl have her own traps. But he was the one who had raised her in the wilderness—taught her the only way of life she knew. Was it fair of him to deny that she use what she had learned?
“I’m going to save my money,” went on Kendra. “I’m going to go out to school.”
George was caught off guard by her statement.
“But you—you didn’t like school.”
Kendra had said nothing about wanting more schooling. Had she been thinking about it? Longing for it? Why hadn’t she spoken? He would have sent her.
But even as the thoughts raced through his mind, he felt a stab of fear follow them. If Kendra left, his own life would be so empty. So void of any meaning. He quickly chided himself. He had to think of the child—not his own selfish desires.
Kendra looked at her grandfather, her eyes clear, her gaze steady. “I think I am ready now,” she said frankly.
“But—but you will be—be older than all the other girls. They—” George was stroking his beard, his eyes intent on the face of his granddaughter.
“Oh—I don’t plan to go to
school
school. I want to go to university. There is one in Edmonton—and they let girls attend. I read about the graduation exercises in that paper that came midsummer,” said Kendra. “If I study real hard, and read all the books I can find—then I think I can be ready for it. Maybe by the time I am seventeen—or eighteen.”
George let out the breath he had been holding. Seventeen—or eighteen. That still gave them a little time. He wouldn’t have to face the thought of losing her for some time yet. He relaxed.
Then his mind switched back to the traps. He supposed it would not be fair to refuse her request. After all, because of him she was who she was.
“We’ll see,” he answered with a nod of his head.
Kendra smiled to herself. When her grandfather responded in that fashion, she most always got what she wanted.
Kendra stamped her feet on the wooden step and pushed the door open with a mittened hand. It was cold. Even colder than she had expected it to be. She was glad to be home. Glad to be back to the comfort of the cabin, though it too would be cold until she got a fire going.
She closed the door behind herself and pulled off her heavy furlined mittens. Even with the protection of the fur, her fingers felt numb. She blew on them as she crossed to the fireplace and knelt to arrange kindling wood in a little pile for lighting. She was glad that there was never a shortage of fuel. Her grandfather saw to that.
With thoughts of her grandfather Kendra frowned. She wished he were home. She hoped he was okay. He had so many more miles to travel than she did. His trapline took him the entire day. It was now shortly past noon—and bitterly cold. He would be kept busy coaxing the dogs along. They would wish to bury themselves in the snow and curl up to keep warm.
“I wish he’d just forget the rest of the line and head for home,” she spoke aloud, her words sounding strange in the stillness of the cabin.
She reached for the can that held the matches and removed one. Never did she need more than one match to start a fire. Now as she held the match to the tinder-dry kindling, she noticed that her fingers still felt numb. Her fears concerning her grandfather deepened.
