When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West) (14 page)

The waters and ice blocks rushed writhing and foaming as though intent on some evil, roaring out vengeful messages.

The turbulent waters rushed on to a sharp bend in the river. There they seemed to stop, struggling and lashing like some dying giant. And then a shout went up, and another followed, and soon people were milling all about me, crying out to one another in anguished tones. I could understand none of it. My eyes turned back to the river. The ice blocks were piling higher and higher, and behind them was a tumbling, twisting sea of troubled water.

I looked around me for Wynn. Then for Susie.

I spotted Susie with Kip in a group of village children. Their eyes too were turned to the bend in the river. Even as I watched, the water slowly slipped up the banks of the river and spilled out on either side, still gray and angry looking.

I saw Wynn then. He raised his hand to command the attention of the people. Slowly the group became quiet again, only the distant roaring of the river and the grinding and crunching of the ice breaking the silence.

“Women and children stay here,” Wynn was calling over the noise.

I looked wildly about. Nimmie was moving quietly toward me.

“What does he mean?” I asked her, puzzled and frightened.

“The river,” she said. I thought I detected fear in her voice. “It has jammed at the bend.”

I turned to the river and swung quickly back to Nimmie.

I didn’t have to ask my question.

“It did that one other year,” Nimmie continued. “Everything in the village was lost.”

“No!” I almost screamed, my hands going to my face as I pictured our cozy home submerged under that icy flow.

Nimmie reached out a hand to me. It was then I realized that Susie was pressing her little body up against me.
Susie’s mother is still
in the cabin!
I thought wildly. She was not strong enough yet to make the pilgrimage to the bluff. With her were her twin babies, the boy and the girl, and the elderly couple who had been living with them.

My hands went down to pull Susie close. I forgot all about our cabin, Wynn’s and mine, and the things in it that made it home to us. My concern was for Susie’s family and the other people who might still remain in the village.

Men were running now, running toward the village. My eyes were huge as I realized that was a two-mile run.
How much time do they have?
And then I noticed that men were also running the other way—toward the jammed-up river.

“What—?” I began, and Nimmie answered, “They are going to try to break the jam.”

“But how?” I stammered, and then I saw that Wynn was leading the runners toward the river.

“O God, no. Please, no.” I covered my face with my hands and sank down in a heap on the ground, pulling Susie down with me.

I began to shake uncontrollably. What could mere man do against the giant ice blocks? “O God. O God!” was all I could moan.

And then someone was patting my shoulder. I tried to pull myself together enough to respond. It was Susie. Her face too was white and her eyes wide with fear.

“We need to pray,” she whispered. “We need to pray quick— before they get there. Before—” her chin was trembling. “I don’t want another father killed by the ice,” she continued, and I remembered hearing the story of how Susie’s father had been dragged under the river’s ice while trying to save his dog team and his winter’s catch of furs so he could feed his family.

I pulled Susie to me. Sobs were shaking her now.

“Dear God,” I implored desperately, “please, please turn them back!” Then more calmly, “Protect us, God. Protect each one of us. Protect the men who have gone to the river. Keep them safe, Lord. Be with Wynn. And be with the men who have gone to the village. May they get there in time to save the people. Amen.”

I went to draw Susie to me, but she resisted. Instead, she began to pray in her own language. She implored the God who sent His Son Jesus, the same Jesus who made all things, to set free the river’s waters so it would be able to continue on downstream and not be held back by the ice. She reminded God that Wynn would not lock children up—he just wanted to teach them not to be bad when they grew up, that was all. And then she told God that she loved Him, too, and would try her hardest, all her life, not to be bad, so that she’d never need to be locked up or sent away from heaven. She said “Amen” in English to close her prayer.

When Susie finished praying, I hated to open my eyes. Yet I had to see. Yes, there were the men still running down the long slope of the hill toward the river. The water was much higher and angrier now. It swirled and smashed and swung at the blocks of shifting ice. I was sure as I watched that they would never be able to do anything to free them. I prayed silently again that they would not try but would turn and run for safety before the river could sweep them away in its angry flood.

They were far enough away from us now that I could not pick out Wynn in the retreating figures. And then I saw an arm upraised and I knew it was Wynn’s. He had gathered the men around and was giving them orders. It was the first I realized that many of the men were carrying their guns.

“They will fire rifle shots into the ice blocks,” Nimmie was saying. And then she added, rather forlornly, I thought, “It has never worked, yet it’s all there is to try.”

They began to move on again. They were at the water’s edge with the swirling waters all around them. As one, they lifted their rifles to their shoulders. There was deafening silence and then I heard Susie whisper, “Now, Jesus,” and there was a sudden explosion. Ice flew hundreds of feet in the air, spewing out in every direction. For a few moments all was silent, and then a mighty cheer went up. The river was flowing again. It was still flooding the land beneath us, it was still raging and roaring, but there was movement downstream now. The river was free to move on.

I pulled Susie to me. She didn’t appear to be one bit surprised. I held her close and rocked her back and forth, the tears, unheeded, pouring down my face.

“He did it, Susie!” I cried. “He did it.”

People were beginning to move toward the village, many excited voices floating back to us on the breeze.

I stood up on shaky legs, drawing Susie up also.

“Come on, Susie,” I said, hugging her to me, “let’s go home now. Our village is safe. Let’s go meet Wynn and we’ll all go home together.”

But Susie held back.

“What’s the matter?” I asked her.

“You said,” began Susie slowly, “you said we’re s’posed to say thank you to Him.”

Susie was so right, and so we did.

TWENTY

Changes

As Wynn had feared, the two downriver villages were flooded by the spring river waters. But because of the precautions taken in moving the people to higher ground, no lives and little property were lost. I think we all breathed easier when the floodwaters finally receded and the river returned to its normal peaceful flow.

As spring turned into summer, Susie’s mother gained strength. She was now able to be outside at times, simply sitting in the sun. The twins were growing and becoming roly-poly and merry. Susie loved to play with them and often had one or the other in her arms or on her back. She continued to live with us, for her family’s cabin was still crowded. The elderly woman, Too Many, remained to care for Maggie and the children.

Susie and I planted our garden and took great pleasure in watching the tender plants put forth their first two green leaves and then expand and grow as they drank in the summer sun. We pulled weeds and carried water when we felt that nature had not sent enough rain. The garden grew, and Susie asked nearly every day when we would have our first vegetables.

Nimmie’s new baby was a healthy boy, and Ian’s fatherly pride was felt all around the village. Nimmie looked pleased, too.

“Now I have both an herb-gatherer and a hunter,” she told me, happiness making her face glow.

I suppose I envied Nimmie. I would have felt it even more if it had not been for Susie and the way she helped to fill my days.

I still visited her mother, Maggie, as often as I dared without making myself a real nuisance. I took her little things, chatted with her about her family, shared Susie’s and my experiences, helped carry wood and water, but mostly I watched for every chance I had to tell her a little more about God and His love for her. Little by little I noticed sparks of interest in her.

Nimmie promised to help me. We prayed together for Susie’s family; and Nimmie, too, made frequent calls, offering help and sharing little experiences about how God was with her each day. Nimmie watched for opportunities to assure Maggie that God was not only interested in the affairs of the white man, but that He loved Indian people, too.

We dismissed school classes the middle of June. The children were much too busy in the summer months to have time for study. I really was much too busy also. Wawasee still brought his drawings to show me and begged, with his eyes only, for another scribbler whenever he had filled the one he was working in.

Jim Buck did not come. He was being teased and bullied by the older boys in the settlement about his interest in school. I ached for Jim. He had a sharp mind that should be educated, but what would happen when school resumed? Would he be able to take the taunting and teasing of the others for the sake of learning more?

Wynn and I celebrated another anniversary. It seemed hard to believe that we had actually been married for two years. And yet, at the same time, I felt that the Elizabeth who walked the aisle of the little Calgary church on that day two years ago had been
so
young and natïve. I had learned so much about life since that time.

Susie flitted through each summer day like a pretty little butterfly. She had outgrown her few dresses, and so I sewed her some more. I was careful to make them just like the dresses of the other children—no frills, no ribbons. I wanted so much to trim them up and make them feminine, like my niece Kathleen would be wearing, but for Susie’s sake I did not. It wasn’t that I feared Susie would not like the new attire. In fact, I was afraid she might like the frills too much and find it difficult to return to simpler clothing in the future.

But what of the future? The future looked bright. Maggie was much better, for which I was thankful, but certainly not well enough to care for herself and her family. I wondered secretly if I was also thankful for that, and hoped with all of my heart I wasn’t that selfish.

Wynn took some longer trips to check on those who lived in his area of responsibility and yet were difficult to visit in the long, cold days of winter. When he went for overnight trips, I was even more thankful to have Susie with me. I didn’t lie awake nights worrying about Wynn and hearing strange noises around the house.

But just when I was feeling rather confident about the immediate future, my world came crashing down around me.

Susie had gone out to the garden to pick some lettuce for our lunch. I heard a shuffle at my door. At first I thought it must be Susie and Kip, and then I realized it was not the quick, easy movements which either the girl or the dog would be making. I turned from the tea I was brewing and looked toward the door.

It was the old woman, Too Many, who plodded in. She did not return my smile of greeting nor sit in the chair where she usually sat. Instead, she said slowly, brokenly, “Where Susie?”

I stopped and put down the teapot, fear filling my heart. Had something happened to Maggie?

I finally quieted my thudding heart enough to ask, “Is something wrong with Maggie?”

“Good,” responded Too Many.

“The family?”

“Good.”

I was relieved. So it wasn’t some tragedy as I had feared. They probably wanted Susie to run a little errand.

“I’ll send Susie down as soon as she comes in. She won’t be long.”

I wasn’t sure how much Too Many understood. She knew very little English. I repeated the information as best as I could in her native language and with gestures, and she rose shakily to her feet and shuffled toward the door. As I watched her I wondered how the old lady could care for a sick woman, a set of twins, two lively boys and a senile elderly man.

Susie soon bounded in the door, Kip at her heels as always. Her face was flushed, her eyes shining.

“Know what?” she called to me as soon as she entered. “Soon we will have carrots. They are almost big enough now.”

I looked at her, wondering if she was pulling up and replanting some of the vegetables again. She just couldn’t resist seeing how big they were getting. Before I asked her, she looked at me, shaking her head.

“I didn’t pull them up this time,” she said. “I just scratched the dirt away from them, like this.”

She showed me, with one wriggling finger, how she had taken her peek at nature’s progress.

“Then I put the dirt right back again,” she hastened to add.

I couldn’t help but smile. I understood her impatience. I had been tempted to do the same thing myself.

“Hurry and wash, dear,” I said to Susie. “Your mother wants to see you.”

“Now?” asked Susie.

“Yes. I told Too Many that I would send you right away. I think you should eat first. They might have a job that will take you awhile, and you should have your dinner before you begin.”

Susie ran to the basin, and I washed the lettuce and fixed our plates. It would be a hurried meal, but at least Susie wouldn’t go to do her mother’s bidding on an empty stomach.

We prayed together, ate our lunch, and then Susie was excused to run on home. Kip went to the door with her.

“I think you should leave Kip this time,” I said. “He might just get in your way.”

Both Kip and Susie looked at me with pleading eyes, but I held firm.

“You won’t be long,” I encouraged her.

Susie gave Kip a goodbye hug and promised him that she would be back soon. Then she skipped out the door, careful to close it behind her as she had been taught at our house, and Kip turned whining to his rug before the fireplace.

Susie was back even before I expected her. She entered the house, her small face blank. Without a word she went to her bed and began to spread out the small blanket that she had brought with her when she came.