When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West) (21 page)

In spite of my loneliness for Wynn, I was glad to be home again. I even took a trip to Lacombe and spent some time with Mother Delaney and Phillip and his family. I was relieved to find Wynn’s mother doing much better. Wynn would be glad for the news.

While I was in the area I visited Anna and had coffee and some of her delicious Swedish baking. We drove by the school and I saw they had added another room onto the little teacherage. I was so glad to see that school was continuing.

As I visited I was often reminded of why I was “out.” Repeatedly, inquiries were made about my “family” and though the questioners were asking out of interest, I found the remarks deeply painful.

In spite of the delights of the city, I chafed inwardly. I was lonesome for Wynn. I even felt a little homesick for the North. I was beginning to understand how Nimmie had felt. It seemed that I had been out for such a long time. Surely there must be someone from the Force heading north. What if they had forgotten me? What if someone had already left and now I must wait for many weeks more? Should I phone them again or would they think me a nuisance?

I longed for Wynn. I longed for Nimmie and her babies, for the Indian women who came for tea, for the sound of the wind in the pines and the smell of wood smoke in the air.

I longed for Kip, pressing his cool nose into my hand, coaxing me to stroke the softness of his beautiful coat.

I was homesick. I was miserable. And no matter how hard I tried to be agreeable and enthusiastic about all that folks were doing for me, the ache never left me.

At long last, two men were being dispatched to a post near our area, and they would accommodate me in their travels. I had three days to get ready. I could take along one hundred pounds of baggage, no more, and should be ready to leave on Wednesday’s train.

I was beside myself.
I’m going home!

The time was spent gathering and packing, weighing and repacking. I wanted to take supplies for my school and books were so heavy. I sorted and pondered, resorted and packed nearly half a dozen times.

When it came time for me to dress for the train trip to Edmonton, I again had trouble deciding,
What should I wear?
The new suit would be ideal for train travel, but would not be of use to me in the North. Yet to wear one of the simple dresses I had purchased to take north with me would look absurd.

Mary solved my dilemma. “Why don’t you wear the suit, hat, and shoes, and when you get to the hotel in Edmonton, just send them all on back to us in this little case?”

I did.

I dreaded all the good-byes, but I was so anxious to be on my way that I did not linger over them. I held my little Kathleen longer than the other children, perhaps. It was hard to leave her again, knowing that the next time I saw her, she might be a young lady. Then it was all over and we were on the train, moving ever so slowly toward Edmonton and the river that would take us on the first leg of our journey north.

I tried to relax, but every nerve seemed to be straining forward. The time would never end.

The days on the trail were no better. I joyfully greeted each familiar landmark. It was the thick cloud of mosquitoes that first welcomed me back to the northland. I swatted at them and smiled to myself. I would soon be home.

The men were kind. One of them was a little too kind, I thought, and took every opportunity to offer his extended hand, or assist me up or down or wherever. I avoided him as much as possible.

At last we left the river, too, loaded the waiting wagon and started up the trail that would lead to the Post.

We camped for the last time, the men setting up my tent before building the evening fire. I was walking about, studying the clear night sky and wondering how on earth I could endure another day on the trail before I would see Wynn when a figure moved toward me in the semidarkness. I would have recognized the stride anywhere, and with a glad cry I ran to meet him.

Wynn had heard we were coming and had come to meet us. We held one another tightly while the tears coursed down my face. Oh, how I had missed him! I would never be able to tell him just how much. For now I was content to be held closely. For the first time in weeks the little gnawing pain was gone from my heart.

Proper manners demanded that Wynn greet the other Mounties and spend some time catching up on the outside news. I wanted him all to myself but I held myself in check. There would be many days ahead for us to catch up on everything.

The next day as we walked along behind the wagon, Wynn and I talked about all the things that had happened to each of us while we had been apart, except I said nothing about the doctor’s report. I was afraid it might bring tears with the telling, so I wanted to be in the privacy of our own home before I reported to Wynn. He, wisely, did not ask. Instead, we talked about the family, the villagers, the war, and what we had seen and done during the weeks apart.

Many people from the settlement came out to meet us. I was deeply touched that they should care so much. I greeted them by name and was pleased to discover I had not forgotten the difficult Indian language I had picked up over the years.

We trudged on the last mile together. A warmth and close-knit feeling seemed to hang in the air all about me. As we neared the settlement the smell of the wood smoke hung in the air. I sniffed deeply. I had missed it. In the distance I could hear the gentle roll of the river, and nearer at hand the soft whispering of the wind in the pines. I put my hand in Wynn’s.

“You wouldn’t believe,” I murmured, “how wonderful it is to be home.”

Wynn squeezed my hand and pulled me closer to him. I could see by the shine in his eyes that he was just as happy as I.

THIRTY

Settling In

The little cabin we called home looked tiny and simple after being in Mary’s lovely home. But I looked around at the bearskin rug before the fire, the shelves that held my dishes and supplies, the table where we sat to partake of venison stew and biscuits, the homemade pillows on the cot, and I felt at home again.

The first day was a busy one. Though I was tired from the trip, I could not rest until I was sure that everything was spotless and orderly.

As soon as the sun was up I ran down the little path leading to my garden. Wynn had kept it weedless while I had been away. I couldn’t believe how much it had grown. The rabbits had been raiding again. I could see where they had nibbled off many of the plants.

My next errand was to get Kip. Wynn had left him in the care of Jim Buck. He seemed as pleased to see me as I was to see him. I thanked Jim, and Kip and I ran the short distance home together.

During the morning Wawasee came, bringing his most recent drawings for me to see. I smiled my approval, and spoke very slowly in his native tongue so he could follow me by lip-reading.

“I like your pictures, Wawasee. I brought you a picture book from the city. You must come back to look at it as soon as I get unpacked. In the morning—in the morning I should have it for you.”

He beamed and I knew by his shining eyes that he would be back in the morning.

In the afternoon several ladies came for tea. They did not all come together but in twos and threes. I would no sooner clear away the cups from one group than another would be at my door. I was soon caught up on all the village news.

I had seen Nimmie briefly the night before, but I was longing for a good chat with her. My first day was too busy to arrange for that chat. I still needed to unpack my things so the book would be there as promised when Wawasee came the next morning.

I cooked Wynn a special supper that night. It wasn’t stuffed chicken breasts and creamed broccoli, but I took special pains with what I had on hand.

I settled back into the routine of village living with a light heart, except for the news from the doctor that I shared with Wynn.

I continued to argue with God. Didn’t Hannah receive the child she had prayed for? Weren’t there numerous women in the world who had children which they did not really want nor care for? Did the whole thing seem reasonable? Why shouldn’t those who would love and protect the child be the ones to give birth? Why not me? Why should I be denied?

I tried to push the thoughts from me, but daily they nagged at me, eventually making me nervous and listless. I lost weight. I did not sleep well. I found no answers.

I had been home for two weeks. I felt again the peacefulness of the little settlement, but I had been wrong about one thing. I had thought that in leaving behind the newspapers, the radio, and the war-talk, I could shut out the fact of the war. With Matthew somewhere in the fighting, that was impossible. My thoughts and prayers often were of him and the other sons who had gone to fight. I thought of the parents, the wives, the sweethearts whom these men had left behind and I prayed for them also. Especially did I pray for my own mother and father as they waited out the long, long days for Matthew’s safe return.

It was beginning to look like fall again. The sun spent fewer hours in the sky, the leaves turned to yellow-gold on the poplars, the birds gathered in the trees, calling to one another. Our garden was full-grown and tasty. It would soon need to be gathered into our storage room. We started our school again.

One day Wynn came to the cabin in the early afternoon. I looked up from the bread I was kneading. He had not planned to be back until the supper hour, so I knew something had happened to change his plans.

“Remember the young woman who had the baby boy about ten days ago?” he asked.

I nodded. The couple was new in the village and I did not know them well.

“She’s not well. I’ve just been over to take her some medicine again. Do you think you could check on her in a short while? Maybe take her something to eat? Her husband is away, and she is all alone.”

I promised Wynn I would go just as soon as I prepared the food.

The young couple had built a new cabin on the edge of the settlement, and I hurried there with my soup and bread. There was no response to my knock on the door, and then I remembered that she likely did not know what a knock meant. I opened the door and went in.

On the corner bed I found the woman, weak with fever. Her forehead was very hot. A tiny baby lay against her, sleeping contentedly. I checked the water pail and found that it had just been refilled. Probably Wynn had done that when he had looked in. I didn’t know whether to try to get her fever down first or to feed her some nourishment. I decided to sponge bathe her.

I spoke to her in her own language, and I could see a response in her eyes.

“How long have you been sick?” I asked her.

“Not know—many days have gone.”

“Where is your husband?”

“In big village.”

“Do you know when he will be back?”

“Not know.”

She didn’t seem to cool much with the bathing, so I gave up and began to spoon some of the soup into her mouth. She was able to swallow the food, for which I was thankful. I then gave her a piece of bread and she fed that to herself.

It was then that the baby stirred and began to whimper. I reached down and picked him up so I could comfort him and check his condition.

There was nothing wrong with him except that he was in desperate need of changing. I took care of that and cradled him for a moment before I placed him back beside his mother so he could nurse.

He did not appear to be suffering even though his mother was ill. He looked filled-out and healthy.

“I will go now,” I said to the young woman, and left her to see if I could find Wynn.

Wynn was not hard to find. He was checking a winter supply list with Ian. Medicines were number one on his list.

“How is she?” he asked as soon as I entered.

I frowned, concerned. “Not good, Wynn. She is so hot. I’m afraid she is very ill. Do you think you should send for her husband? She says he is at the big village.”

“I’ve sent for him. It’ll be three days at best before he gets here, and if he is hard to locate, perhaps many more.”

“I don’t think she should be left there alone, Wynn. Is there a way that she could be moved to our place so I could care for her properly?”

Wynn thought about it.

“That will be a big job, Elizabeth—and what about your school?”

“We’d have to cancel classes for a few days, but that wouldn’t hurt. It’s more important to try to get her well.”

“I think we could find a way to get her there.”

“I’ll go get the cot ready.”

It was not long until the woman and her baby had been bedded on the cot in our living quarters. Most of the time she slept, restlessly tossing about in her fever. I bathed her often, trying to get the fever down. I was afraid that in her tossing she might injure the baby, so I had Wynn bring in a crate and we made him a comfortable bed.

For the next four days all my time was spent caring for the mother and baby. I would just begin to think there was some improvement, and then she would get worse again. At times she could not even nurse her child. I had Wynn bring some canned milk from the store and we fixed a makeshift bottle to supplement his feeding. On the fifth day the worried-looking husband came to our door. He crossed quickly to the side of his wife’s bed without even exchanging greetings with me. She was a bit better, and I was glad she recognized him. He went to the crate and picked up his young son. He seemed pleased that the child fared well. It was only then that he turned to me and spoke, “I take them home now,” he said.

I wanted to protest. The woman was not fit to be moved, but I knew better than to argue. I just nodded my head in agreement.

He left for some help and was soon back with two other men to carry the woman on a blanket and pole stretcher to their own cabin. The baby was crying as they left. He was hungry and the woman no longer had much milk.

I worried about them. For the first few days I would drop by to check on them. The husband always greeted me at the door and said that mother and baby were “good.” He was caring for them. From the smells coming from the cabin I knew that he was doing some cooking and was feeding her. He seemed to be responsible. I would have to leave the matter with him.