[Canadian West 01] - When Calls the Heart

by Janette Oke

  "God's pretty smart, huh?"

  "Yes, Kathleen. God knows all things."

  We followed the others down the aisle. The candle flames flickered and wavered, sending light and shadow to play on smiling faces while friends greeted one another as they moved toward the door.

  "Hello, Elizabeth."

  At the sound of the familiar voice, I turned quickly around and found myself looking up into the face of Wynn. It was the first time I had seen him in uniform. If I had found it difficult before to imagine him as a Mountie, as I looked at him now I could not imagine him as anything else. His strength was more than physical. There was a strength of character and purpose about him that made the red tunic look deserving of the man.

  My breath had caught in a little gasp and it was a moment before I could answer him.

  "I wasn't expecting to see you," I said shyly, and his widening smile brought a flush to my cheeks.

  By then Kathleen had realized who was beside us and had claimed his attention. Jerking his sleeve, she was demanding, "Are you coming to our house, Dee? Are you coming to see our tree?"

  "Hey," he said, "slow down, Moppet. As a matter of fact, your mother has invited me to your house, and I think-" he teased lightly, "I think maybe I'll come."

  She ignored his teasing and clapped her hands. "He's coming, Aunt Beth! Isn't that good?"

  I was busy trying to understand the strange fluttering of my heart. Was it the aura of the red jacket, or the fact that he had spoken my name? I hoped that Kathleen could keep his attention until I was able to get myself well under control.

  Mary called Kathleen and the girl went to join her family. I was left, heart thumping, standing very close in the crowded aisle to this awesome man in the red coat.

  "Jon has suggested," he began, and then his eyes began to twinkle, "-no, that's not true. Jon has agreed to my suggestion that, since I am to spend the evening at his house, you could ride over with me so that I might catch up on the Pine Springs news." He laughed then-a soft, good-natured chuckle. "Maybe that's not entirely true either, but I do want a chance for a bit of a talk, because once we get to Jon's and in the company of his chattering offspring, there will be little chance to even ask how you've been."

  I smiled, knowing that he was right.

  "Would you, Elizabeth?"

  My smile seemed to wobble a little. "I'd like that."

  He took my arm and steered me through the crowd and out to his waiting team. As the team stomped impatiently, the bells on their harness jingled clearly through the night air and seemed to echo again and again from the nearby buildings.

  Wynn helped me into the sleigh and tucked the robes closely about me. As soon as we were on our way, he opened the conversation.

  "So how is my big brother?"

  "He's fine. I saw him and the family just a few nights ago at the Christmas program. He looks much better-has gained weight and picked up some color-and he looks absolutely happy."

  "Good," was all he answered, but he spoke the single word with great feeling.

  We were silent for several moments. I held my tongue, and my breath, until I feared that I would burst. I gave up. I had to know.

  "And are you posted here in Calgary?"

  "For now, but I'm not sure for how long. I expect that another posting will come soon, though I don't know where. I'm enjoying Calgary. The city is growing so fast that there's always something going on, but I'm rather anxious to get back-"

  "Back to where?"

  "I've spent six years at various posts in the North. I like it there."

  "What do you do? I didn't think that there were many settlers in the North."

  "Settlers, no-not too many. Trappers mostly. But the North is full of people. We are far more than law enforcement to the people there; Mounties are the only dentists, doctors, coroners, arbitrators, advisors--and clergymen, that many of the people have. They depend upon us, Elizabeth, not just to bring justice but to bring hope and help."

  I thought about his words, and I thought about Julie. I wondered if her impression of the scarlet-coated Mountie was so accurate after all. Rather than adventure and excitement, their job sounded like a great deal of responsibility and hard work to me. And it sounded noble, though I didn't think that Wynn Delaney would care for that word, so I kept it to myself.

  "Are there many women there?" The words were out before I could stop them.

  "White women? No. Very few. Oh, a few of the North West Mounted Police have taken brides-unwisely."

  "unwisely?"

  "It's a very difficult life. No modern homes, no shops. no entertainment. Often there are no white friends, unless it's a trapper's wife. It's not the place for a lady."

  "But don't they need schools?"

  "There are some mission schools, often taught by men. But for the most part. no-they don't think much about needing schools. The men know how to hunt and fish and care for their traps, and the women know how to tan the hides, dry the meat, haul the wood, tote the water. What more do they need to know? Those are the things necessary for surviving in their land."

  I could tell by his voice that he was smiling as he said the words, yet I knew he was speaking from firsthand knowledge; he had worked among the people of the North. I did not try to argue.

  He suddenly turned to me. "Here we are almost to Jon's, and you were to have given me all the news from Pine Springs. You'd better fill me in quickly," he prompted.

  I laughed, and in as few words as possible I told him of some of the happenings of the community.

  We pulled up to the front door and he stopped the team and helped me out of the sleigh. I had taken his offered arm to ease myself to the snow-packed ground when my foot caught in the buffalo robe. I tumbled forward, grabbing frantically for something solid. His reactions were quicker than mine, and before I could right myself I was held firmly in two strong arms.

  "Are you all right?" he asked anxiously against my hair. I quickly steadied myself and gently pushed myself away from him.

  ".Just clumsy," I said in embarrassment. I released my hold on his coat sleeves and stepped back. I was thankful that he could not clearly see my face.

  "It's slippery under foot," he cautioned.

  "I'11 try to be careful." I even managed a slight laugh.

  "As soon as I care for the team, I'll be in."

  I went quietly up the stairs to my room. In front of a mirror I removed my hat that had been jarred askew by my fall against Wynn. Straightening my hair with a trembling hand. I gave myself a few moments to regain my composure. By the time I arrived downstairs to join the family, Wynn was already there. Our eyes met briefly but neither of us made any comment.

  Mary was serving cocoa and popcorn, and the children were jostling for a position close to the fire. As soon as they had finished their refreshments, Mary led them off to bed.

  We spent the rest of the evening chatting and playing dominoes. It was nearly ten o'clock when Mary brought the coffee and Christmas baking. Jon threw more wood on the fire, and we pulled up close to the crackling flames and comfortably visited. At length, Mary asked Wynn, "Are you going to the wedding?"

  He nodded.

  "You don't seem very enthusiastic." she teased.

  He still said nothing.

  "So, why not?" Mary persisted.

  "It's none of my business, I suppose," Wynn said slowly, "but I think that it's a mistake."

  "Whose mistake?" Jon asked.

  "Withers'."

  "Is Withers the young Mountie?"

  Wynn nodded.

  "Mistake-how?" Mary asked, puzzled.

  "You are a pest," Wynn teased. He stood up and moved closer to the fire. "Okay-I've said it before; here it is for you again. Withers is posted at Peace River-his young bride comes from Montreal. She is used to plays and concerts and dinner parties. She's trading that for blizzards and sickness, wild animals and loneliness. Do you think that she'll be able to appreciate the exchange? Come on, Mary-even lone can't stand a tes
t like that."

  "Some women have done it, you know. Wynn, you might be short-selling love."

  He turned back to the fire. "Yes," he said slowly, "some have. But I'd never want to ask it of the woman I loved."

  I could tell that he truly meant those words, and something deep down inside of me began to weep. But Mary didn't let Wynn have the last word.

  "Then you would also be short-selling the woman you loved," she said softly, "if she really loved you."

  Wynn shook his head slightly, but his eyes did not turn from the fire.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Christmas Day

  Christmas Day dawned bright and glistening. During the night there had been a fresh fall of snow, and the cleaned-upworld shimmered in the rays of the winter sun.

  The day began early with the glad shrieks of the children as they discovered the gifts that were in their stockings and under the tree. We enjoyed a leisurely morning of games, nut roasting and chatter. Dinner was to be served at one o'clock. Wynn joined us for dinner and he presented each of the children with a package. Jon, Mary and I were each given fur mittens made by Wynn's northern Indian friends; I looked forward to using mine.

  In the afternoon the children begged for a chance to try their new Christmas sleds. So, following Mary's suggestion, Wynn and I accompanied Jon when he took them to the hill. We all bundled up-I was glad for this opportunity to wear my new mittens-until we could barely waddle and headed out, laughing and jostling, for the hillside.

  At the hill we all rode on the sleds. I was soon exhausted after the breathless rides and long return climbs. I decided to sit down on a fallen log partway up the hill and rest while the others enjoyed another ride.

  I could hear the shrieks and laughter as they sped downward, Jon and Sarah on one sleigh, Wynn and Kathleen on another, and William on his own.

  A few birds fluttered in a nearby tree and two squirrels fought over winter provisions. I leaned hack against a tree and enjoyed the sparkling freshness of the winter air.

  I could hear the children's chatter at the foot of the hill when Wynn suddenly swung into sight.

  "Jon said that I should take you up to the top of the ridge and give you a look at the mountains."

  "Oh," I cried. springing up eagerly, "can you see them from here?"

  "From right up there," he answered, pointing above and beyond us.

  "Then lead the way---I'd love to see them."

  The loose snow made climbing difficult. Wynn stopped often to let me catch my breath, and a couple of times he held out his hand to me to help me over a fallen tree or up a particularly steep place.

  At the top I discovered that the climb had been worth every step. Stretched out before us, their snow-capped peaks glistening in the winter sun, were the magnificent Rockies. I caught my breath in awe.

  "Someday," I said softly, "I'm going to visit those mountains-and have a picnic lunch right up there at the timberline."

  Wynn laughed.

  "That's quite a hike up to the timberline, Elizabeth," he cautioned.

  "Well, I don't care. It'll be worth it."

  "How about settling for a picnic lunch beside a mountain stream instead--or at the base of Bow Falls or maybe among the rocks of Johnson Canyon?"

  "You've been there--to all of those places?"

  "Several times."

  "Is it as beautiful as I imagine?"

  "Unless you have a very exceptional imagination, it's even more beautiful."

  "Oh, I'd love to see it!"

  "Then you must. I wish that I could promise to take you hut..."

  Reluctantly I turned from the scene of the mountains to make my way back down the slope to Jon and the children. My thoughts were more on Wynn's unfinished sentence than on where I was placing my feet. He was so determined, so definite. He left no room at all for feelings, for caring. Somehow I felt that there should be something I could say or do to make him at least re-think his position, but I couldn't think of what it might be-at least not while I was scrambling down a steep hillside behind a man used to walking in such terrain.

  Suddenly my foot slipped on a snow-covered log and my ankle twisted beneath me. I sat down to catch my breath and test the extent of the injury. To my relief, nothing much seemed wrong. I knew that nothing was broken, and I was sure that there was not even a serious sprain-just a bit of a twist. I was rising to my feet to hurry after Wynn when he looked back to check on my progress.

  "What's the matter?" he called, his voice concerned.

  I tried to respond lightly, "I'm fine-just twisted my ankle a bit."

  I took a step but he stopped me.

  "Stay where you are, Elizabeth, until I check out that ankle."

  "But it's fine-"

  "Let's be sure."

  He was hurrying back up the hill toward me when a strange idea entered my head. Maybe this was a way to delay him for a few moments until I had fully considered what I could say. I sat back down on the tree stump and stared at my foot.

  Wynn had been only a few steps ahead of me, breaking trail, so he was soon down on a knee before me. "Which one?" he asked, and I pointed to the left ankle.

  He lifted it with gentle firmness and removed my boot. Carefully he began to feel the injured ankle, his fingers sensitive and gentle.

  "Nothing broken." He squeezed. "Does this hurt?"

  It did-slightly, though not enough to make me wince as hard as I did. I said nothing-just nodded my head in the affirmative. After all, he hadn't asked how much it hurt.

  Wynn surveyed the trail ahead.

  "It's only a few more steps until we are on the level. Can you make it?"

  I knew that I could, but I didn't say so. Instead, I murmured, "If you could help me just a bit ...

  He replaced my boot, leaving the laces loose.

  "Too much pressure?" he asked.

  "No-no-that's fine."

  "Good. We wouldn't want to take a chance on frostbite as well. Are you ready?"

  I had visions of limping down the trail with Wynn's arm supporting me. Surely, I thought, under such conditions it should be easy to think of the right thing to say to this man. But instead of offering his assistance, Wynn swept me up into his arms in one quick, gentle movement. The suddenness of it startled me, and I threw my arms around his neck.

  "It's all right," he reassured me. "It's only a few steps down this bit of a bank, and we'll be on the level."

  "But I-"

  "I could throw you over my shoulder and carry you deadman style," he teased.

  "I think I would prefer-" I was going to say, "to walk," but that wasn't true, so I lamely stopped.

  "So would I, Elizabeth," he said with his slow smile and looked deeply into my eyes.

  That was when I should have made my little speech, but my brain was hazy and my lips dumb. I could think only of this moment-nothing more-and I rested my cheek against his coat and allowed myself this bliss that would in the future be a beautiful memory.

  All too soon we were at the slope where Jon and the children were still sledding. Wynn put me down, cautious that I would not put my weight on my left foot. For one confused moment I could not remember which foot was supposed to be injured and had to look at my boot to see which one had the untied laces.

  We had not spoken to one another for several minutes. As he lowered me to a seat on a log, his cheek brushed lightly against mine, and I feared that he would surely hear the throbbing of my heart.

  "How is it?" he asked. "I hope I didn't jar it."

  "Oh, no. You were most careful. I don't see how you were able to come down there so-" I couldn't finish.

  "We'll get you home as quickly as possible," he promised, and he waved to William who came trudging up the slope with his sled.

  Wynn insisted that I ride home on the sleigh, and I could hardly refuse. To insist upon walking would have given my ruse away, so I rode the sled, feeling foolish and deceptive.

  When we arrived at the house, Wynn carried me in and depos
ited me on the couch. He suggested that ice packs might make my ankle more comfortable. Soon to be on duty, he couldn't stay for the evening. After promising to stop by to check on me at his first opportunity, he left.

  I feigned a limp whenever I moved around for the rest of the day. It was hard to keep Jon and Mary from calling a doctor. I would have been mortified if one had been summoned on Christmas Day to look at my "injury." When bedtime finally arrived, I was relieved to take my perfectly fine ankle, and my guilty conscience, to the privacy of my own room.

  I went to bed troubled. I could feel again the roughness of Wynn's wool coat against my cheek, and the strength of his arms supporting me as he carried me. I realized that I unwillingly had fallen in love with the man; and I might have missed my only opportunity to plead my case. Still, if a man was determined not to care for a woman, what could she possibly say to change his mind? I had no idea, having never been in such a position till now. For a moment I wished that I had learned a few of the feminine ploys that Julie used to such advantage, then checked myself. I had already used more trickery than I could feel comfortable with. What in the world had ever possessed me to make me promote such a falsehood? Shame flushed my cheeks. Never would I resort to such devious tactics again.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  The Confession

  The next morning I lightly brushed aside the inquiries concerning my ankle and assured everyone that it was just fine. I was embarrassed over the whole affair and was not anxious to discuss it. Mary insisted that I stay off my feet; so to appease her and to escape from everyone's sympathy, I retreated to Jon's library where I buried myself in a good hook.

  About noon, Jon entered with William reluctantly in tow. One look at their faces, and I could see that it was to be a serious discussion. I rose to excuse myself but Jon stopped me.

  "Sit still, Beth. We'll only be a few moments. No need for you to bother that ankle of yours."