When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West) (11 page)

It was then that I heard running. I knew it was not Wynn. Wynn did not approach our house at a run. Kip knew it too. He was up and over to the door before I could even turn from the stove.

The door burst open and Susie, breathless and without outdoor wraps, flung herself into the room.

“Teacher,” she gasped, “Teacher, come quick! Mama needs you.”

I did not wait to ask why I was needed. I grabbed my parka, flung it about me and headed for the door. I stopped only long enough to hastily tie on my snowshoes, and then I followed the running Susie. I did think briefly that I had not even stopped to push the stew to the back of the stove.

When we reached the cabin, we were both out of breath. Susie pushed open the door and after throwing aside my snowshoes I followed her in. One dim lamp was burning and the thick smoke of the open fire stung my eyes so I could hardly see. As soon as my eyes adjusted, I could see that Susie’s mother was not alone. A midwife was there. I then noticed the same unusual smell I had found at Nimmie’s after her baby was born.

Susie’s mother moaned and tossed on her bed. The Indian midwife moved closer to her and spoke words of comfort in a singsongy voice. Neither woman seemed to have noticed me.

“What’s the matter?” I whispered to Susie.

“The baby is already here, and still she pains—bad,” explained Susie in a worried tone.

“The baby?”

“Yes. There.”

Susie pointed to one corner of the room. A pile of furs was lying there and, as I looked closely, I felt more than saw something stir. I looked back to Susie. Fear showed in her eyes. I reached an arm out to her and pulled her close. She did not resist me. As I held the little girl, I wondered which one of us needed the consolation, the closeness, the most. My tears nearly spilled again.

The old midwife turned to get some more of her medicine. It was the first she seemed to be aware of us. She did not look surprised.

“Not good,” she said in a low voice. “Not good. Pain should go now.”

I was frightened. I knew Susie felt I should be able to do something. What could I do? I knew nothing about caring for birthing mothers. Surely we wouldn’t have another family of children left as orphans? Susie had already lost her father six months before in a river accident. I prayed that she wouldn’t be asked to give up her mother, too.

As I looked at the frail child in my arms and thought of what the future could hold for her, my concern over myself and my homesickness suddenly left me. All my thoughts were now on this family, this mother who tossed and groaned before us. What could we do? I began to pray for the mother.

A faint whimper from the corner interrupted my talk with God. The baby was awake. With one arm still around Susie, I moved toward the corner. The little one was small, with thick black hair framing the tiny face. I reached down to lift him up. As I cuddled him close, the whimpering stopped, but Susie, who still stood close to me, had not stopped shaking.

“We need to find Mr. Delaney,” I told her. “He might have gone home by now, or he might be at the store. Do you think you can find him?”

She nodded her head.

“Put on your parka and your mittens this time,” I said. “It’s cold out and you mustn’t get chilled. I’ll be here with your mother.”

She followed my instructions, bundled up and then left. I was sure she was running again.

We did not wait too long before Susie was back with Wynn. He didn’t stop to ask questions but went over to the Indian woman on the corner bed and began to examine her. I still clung to the baby. The little warm body in my arms seemed to give me some measure of assurance.

“Maggie,” I heard Wynn speak to the Indian lady, “Maggie, do you hear me?”

The woman only groaned.

“She sleep now,” said the midwife. “Get rest.”

“Not get rest, yet,” said Wynn. “She still has a big job left. She has a baby to deliver.”

“Baby come already,” the midwife informed Wynn and pointed at the baby I held in my arms.

“Maybe so,” said Wynn, “but now it is time for the brother to come.”

Twins! I couldn’t believe it. I guess Susie couldn’t either.

“What does he mean, Teacher?” she asked in a whisper.

“Your mother is going to have two babies—twins,” I said to her.

“Like bear cubs?” she whispered, her eyes big.

I laughed softly.

“Like bear cubs,” I told her.

By the time the second baby arrived, and the new babies and the tired mother were properly taken care of, it was no longer Christmas Eve. Wynn and I walked home arm-in-arm over the crunching snow, our breath sending little puffs before us in the cold, crisp night air. The moon shone overhead, and the northern lights played back and forth across the heavens. I wondered aloud about that night long ago, when another child was born on Christmas Eve. It always seemed like a miracle when a new life entered the world, and tonight there had been two new lives and they both seemed well and healthy. Wynn had been wrong, though; it was not a brother. The second baby, much to Susie’s delight, had been a girl.

SIXTEEN

Winter Visitor

Christmas Day was still a time of loneliness for me, but I did not feel overwhelmed with homesickness. Wynn and I spent the day before our fire. Our dinner was venison roast and vegetables, with a blueberry pie for dessert. We had planned to go for a walk along the river but the day turned out to be too cold for that.

We did exchange gifts. We didn’t have much, but each of us had hidden away a few items for future giving when we had come north. With two Christmases, our anniversary and Wynn’s birthday behind us, I was now at the end of my little horde. I wondered what I would do for a gift when Wynn’s birthday came around again. The question nibbled at the back of my mind while I watched him unwrap the new knife which was this year’s present. Perhaps I could find something to purchase from one of the Indian ladies.

My gift from Wynn brought a gasp of joy. It was two pairs of new stockings. I had mended and repaired the ones I owned numerous times, and I did so hate mended stockings. I found out later that Wynn had ordered them in from Edmonton through Ian’s store with the fall supply train.

The day seemed to be rather long. There wasn’t much to do except talk. We had few games to play, no music available, and the miserable weather left us no chance to leave the cabin.

While I prepared an evening snack of cold meat sandwiches and leftover pie, Wynn stretched out on the rug before the fire. By the time I returned to join him, he had fallen asleep. I knew my sleeping husband was tired. His job took so much of his time and energy. After delivering the baby last night, he had been called from our overcooked stew to see a sick child.

He had lost weight, too. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but he definitely did not weigh as much as he had when we came north. I looked down at my own body. I had lost a few pounds, too, which was reasonable. We were active, walked a lot, and ate few foods that would add pounds to our frames.

I looked at my hands. They were no longer the soft hands of a pampered woman. Time had changed us—time and the northland.

I didn’t know whether to waken Wynn or to let him sleep, so I just sat watching him, undecided.

Suddenly Kip arose and looked toward the door, his head cocked to one side as he listened. Was someone coming?

“No, God, please,” I pleaded. “Don’t let Wynn be needed again tonight.”

By the time I heard the footsteps, Kip was already at the door. I could tell by his bark that whoever was coming was not someone he knew. Kip welcomed most of the settlement people with only a wagging of his tail.

Kip’s barking awakened Wynn and he pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked apologetically at me.

“Sorry. I must have—” but he got no further.

There was stamping at our front door and then someone was banging on it.

Kip’s barking increased, and Wynn rose to his feet and motioned him to go to his corner in silence; Kip obeyed rather reluctantly, I thought.

Wynn opened the door and a man almost fell into the room. The first thing I noticed was his clothes. He was dressed in the uniform of the Royal North West Mounted Police.

Then I noticed that he had a big bundle in his arms. He looked out from around it, and his face, red with the cold of the bitter wind, broke into a sort of frozen smile.

“Sergeant Wynn Delaney?” he asked.

“Right,” said Wynn and moved to relieve him of his heavy load so he would have a free hand to shake in greeting. But the man laughed softly and moved the parcel away from Wynn’s outstretched hand.

“Sorry,” he said, “but I have strict orders to hand this over to Elizabeth Delaney and no one else.” He turned to me. “You’re Mrs. Elizabeth Delaney?”

My mouth must have dropped open in astonishment. “I—I am,” I stammered.

He handed me the parcel as if he was awfully glad to be rid of it. Then he brushed the snow from his parka, pulled off his mitten and reached out a hand to Wynn.

“Carl Havens of the Royal North West Mounted Police,” he said evenly.

I stood with the parcel in my hands, looking wide-eyed at the young officer. How had he gotten to our small cabin in the North? What was he doing here? And where was this strange box from? Wynn was speaking, “Welcome to the North, Carl. Won’t you take off your coat and tell us what this is all about? I believe Elizabeth has just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”

So it was over that fresh pot of coffee in front of our fireplace that Carl Havens filled us in on what he was doing in our area and how he happened to be our Christmas visitor.

He had been stationed in Calgary and had come to know our Julie through the small church there. When he received his new posting, and it was up North, Julie expressed a desire to send a Christmas package to her northern family. Havens checked with the Force and they gave their permission for him to act as courier. And so here was Officer Havens on his way to his posting, which was north and a little east of ours, stopping by to see us with a parcel of goodies from home!

It seemed too good to be true.

The little gifts from Jon and Mary, each of the children, and Julie in particular, should have brightened my Christmas. And I guess it did. It also made me even lonelier. I cried over everything I lifted from its wrappings. The men seemed to understand, and no one tried to talk me out of my tears.

I fixed more sandwiches. Officer Havens was famished, as though he had not eaten for days. I thought of the misery of the trail. It was hard enough traveling it in the warmth of summer. It must be nearly unbearable in the winter’s cold. I wondered how the young Mountie had ever found his way to us in the snow.

“I’m traveling with guides,” he said in answer to our questions. “They are camped down by the trading post. We will spend the night there and then go on in the morning. The man at the store— McLain, is it?—told me where to find you, and of course I couldn’t rest until I got that parcel delivered—and right on time, too.”

He smiled as I wondered just how serious the relationship was between him and Julie. He seemed like a fine young man. He’d be good for Julie.

As we had our coffee and sandwiches I plied him with questions about the family and life in Calgary. Like a fresh breath of home, it was so good to get some news of the outside world.

It was late when he said he must go. His men would be wondering where he was. They had to leave early in the morning.

Wynn invited him back for breakfast the next morning, but he declined. He would eat with his men, he said. Wynn promised to see him before he left, and then he was gone through the snow, just as he had come.

I had a strange feeling as I watched his tall figure depart into the darkness.

“Wynn,” I asked, “was he really here, or have I been dreaming?”

Wynn pointed to the gifts now scattered around our small cabin.

“It looks like he was really here, Beth.”

It had been a long time since Wynn had used my pet name. I blinked back tears, not sure if they were tears of joy or sorrow. I still missed my family. The gifts were nice, but they did not take the place of the ones who had sent them. I also loved my husband dearly. Yes, my choice was the same.
As long as Wynn is in the North,
I will be here with him.

He took me gently in his arms and kissed away the tear that lay on my cheek.

“It’s been tough this Christmas, hasn’t it?”

I nodded.

“I’m sorry you’ve been so lonesome,” he went on.

“You noticed?”

“I noticed.”

“I thought I was hiding it pretty well.”

He hugged me closer. “I appreciate your trying, Beth, though I would have been more than happy to share it, to talk about it. It might have helped a bit. Sometimes I get lonesome, too. I think about home, about Mother—about the fact that I wasn’t there when Dad passed away. I wish I would have been. I worry some that the same thing might happen with Mother. Every day I pray, ‘Please, God, let me be there this time.’ Does that sound foolish? I mean, can you understand?”

“I understand,” I said as my arms tightened around him. I did understand. Wynn had family, too, that he loved deeply. It wasn’t easy for him to serve in the North. But the people here needed him. It was his commitment to them that kept him with the Force, that kept him here in the small settlement. I had seen the same light of commitment in the eyes of the other young Mountie, Carl Havens. He, too, felt that being a member of the Royal North West Mounted Police was more than a job. It was a calling to serve people. Wynn’s even higher calling to serve his Lord was fulfilled in his responsibilities here among the trappers and Indians.

I reached up to kiss my husband, and with the kiss was a promise—a promise of my love and support here by his side for as long as he felt that the North needed him.

SEVENTEEN

Classes Resume

Jim Buck appeared at my door the next morning. I had not expected to start classes again for another day or two, but Jim either did not understand or pretended not to.

“Come for school,” he said in answer to my puzzled look.