Rescue at Fort Edmonton

by Rita Feutl

  Over the animals’ uneasy mooing, Janey could hear him mutter,“I hate cows, I hate cows. I hate...” He was cut short by barking outside. Oleksiy stiffened. “Quick! Up the ladder!” He scooped up the sacks and scurried out of sight. Janey had just enough time to put the stool and bucket back before she clambered up as well.

  The door opened, revealing a weak rectangle of winter light.

  “Hush now, girls! Hush! What is it?” Swaddled in a man’s overcoat and gumboots, a woman stepped into the light, then swung the door shut behind her.

  “Shh now! Hush!” The mooing subsided as the woman entered the corral and went softly from one animal to the next. Finally she plunked herself down on the stool and Janey heard the sizzling hiss of milk rhythmically hitting the bottom of the pail. Efficient with her movements, the woman finished the milking, quickly fed and watered the animals, and stepped back through the door. No more light came from outside. The afternoon had disappeared.

  “Well, that does it,” said Oleksiy, rolling over onto his back in the hay.“We’ll have to spend the night here and hope we can hitch a ride out tomorrow – if she decides to go anywhere.”

  He started burrowing into the straw, pulling a gunny sack with him to use as a pillow. Janey watched in the gloom, then did the same. She was surprised by how warm she soon felt, but it wouldn’t allow her to fall asleep.

  “So, where are you really from?” came Oleksiy’s voice in the darkness.

  “I’m from the East, like I said.Toronto.Where are you from?”

  “I’m from a farm – my uncle’s farm – west of here. I heard about the Mercy Flight – that’s what they’re callin’ it on the radio – and just wanted to come see it. My uncle said it was a fool’s errand and nothin’ to waste gas on, and that the plane’d probably fly right over the farm, so why bother goin’?”

  There was silence for a moment, as if Oleksiy was replaying the scene in his mind.“Thing is, it wouldn’t be as much fun to watch from the farm. Nothin’s fun on the farm. Even lyin’ here hungry in a hayloft is better than being there with those cows.”

  Beneath them, they could hear the steady chewing of the animals. A rumble erupted from Janey’s stomach. She shifted in the hay.“So, how old are you?”

  “Twelve. And not much to show for it. Uncle Bill would only let me go to school when there wasn’t much work on the farm. And just this mornin’ he said I was too big to go back to school after Christmas. He says I don’t need anymore schoolin’.”

  Janey could hear the bitterness in his voice. “You might be able to go to school when you get to the city.What do you want to be?”

  “I don’t know yet. All I know is that I want a job in the city an’...an’...” He paused, and switched gears. “Are your folks still alive?”

  Janey wondered how much to tell him.“They are, but they’re far away.”

  “Do you miss ’em?” The question came out as a whisper in the dark.

  Janey thought about her mother in a distant country, trying to earn some money for them all, and her father, pacing the hospital hallways while her grandmother had her operation. “Yeah,” she said. “A lot.”

  “You’re lucky. At least they’re still alive.”The straw rustled beside Janey as Oleksiy turned.

  “What happened to yours?”

  “They died just after the war in the Old Country. They starved to death.There was no food. Neighbours found me in bed between them; I was just a baby.”

  “That must have been awful.”

  “I have no memory of it. Then someone remembered I had an uncle here in Canada, and brought me out here. I don’t think he was happy to see me, though.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I was another mouth to feed, and his wife...she just doesn’t like me.”

  “So you ran away?”

  “Yeah. This morning I snuck into the parlour and turned on the radio – I just wanted to hear if Wop May really was going to fly – and she caught me. She beat me with Uncle’s belt and told me that a brat like me had no right to touch their radio.” He paused a moment and swallowed loudly. “Then she said the only place for someone like me was in the cowshed.”

  Janey could taste the bitterness coming from Oleksiy.

  “I don’t only want to go back to school,” he said, his voice suddenly fierce.“I want to grow up and have a good job and find a girl who’ll love me and get us a cozy little house for our family.” His voice petered away, then he laughed ruefully. “Listen to me goin’ on about what I want, and here I hardly know you. But Uncle Bill just had girls until William was born, and he’s only four.You can’t talk to a four-year-old, or to girls.” In the darkness, a small smile formed on Janey’s lips.

  Oleksiy shifted in the hay again, then said, “If I really had to say what I wanted, at least right now, it would be a job and a good winter coat and maybe a pair of mitts so’s I can survive the winter. I want...” He sighed. “The trouble is, I want everything.”

  Janey lay silently beside him in the cold darkness. What was wrong with wanting everything? She wanted Granny to be fine, and to have her old life in Toronto, with her mum at home and her dad at work. Was that too much to ask?

  Gradually, Oleksiy’s breathing grew rhythmic and deep, and Janey abandoned her own wants and wishes for sleep.

  WHEN THE BARN DOOR FLEW OPEN AGAIN, it was still dark. The same woman reappeared, struggling to shut the door against the wind that howled outside. Both Janey and Oleksiy peered over the edge of their loft, watching as she lit a lantern in the corner.

  Again the woman went to work, filling pails with milk. She carried them both to the door, considered the sound of the wind, then put one down on the ground. She blew out the lantern, then left with the other one.

  “Quick, before she gets back,” Oleksiy urged, already halfway down the ladder.The cold, the clothes, and the darkness made Janey move slower than she wanted. By the time she reached the door, Oleksiy had already taken a good long gulp, drinking straight from the bucket. She took it from him, and felt the warmth of the milk spread through the tin and into her mittened hands. But before she could take a sip, the door swung open again, bashing the bucket from Janey’s hands to the floor. Hot milk oozed through the layers of socks and running shoes, and Janey was so delighted with the warmth that she forgot to run. The woman reached out and grabbed her jacket.

  “What are you doing here?” she said roughly, giving Janey such a hard shake that her head snapped back and her cap came off. Janey’s ponytail tumbled out.

  “You’re a girl!” said two voices, one from the woman and one from the shadows beside her. The woman turned toward Oleksiy’s voice.

  “How many of you are in here?” she asked gruffly. Oleksiy moved into the light, looking at Janey with suspicion. “You let me blabber on last night about everything and you didn’t even tell me you was a girl?” he growled.

  The woman shook Janey again. “I said, how many of you are there?” Janey felt like she was being attacked on all sides.

  “Just two. Just us. I’m Jamie...I mean, Janey Kane and this is Oleksiy Kanasewich.”

  The woman peered carefully at Janey. “I knew a Janey Kane once. Is she a relation?” She let go of Janey’s coat and turned her face to the light.

  “No,” said Janey carefully. “There’s just me, Janey.”

  “Odd,” said the woman. “Same hair, same colour eyes. I would have sworn... Can you whistle?”

  “Oh, for the love of... Girls don’t whistle,” said Oleksiy. He was staring belligerently at Janey, who’d just about had enough. She put her fingers in her mouth and let ’er rip. Again, both the woman and Oleksiy stood open-mouthed.

  “But it’s the same whistle, even,” said the woman, softly.

  Janey stared at her, trying to think things through. “When did you hear it before?” Janey asked.

  “When I was a girl, and my family was camped in a tent by the river and these ladies thought...”

  “Anna?” Now it was Ja
ney’s turn to be dumbfounded.

  “Yes, I’m Anna. Anna Stanley. But back then I was Anna Hirczi.” She looked at Janey thoughtfully, then said firmly, “You two must come with me. Inside. Where it’s warm.”

  Janey could hardly move her milk-sodden feet. She stumbled along the path with Oleksiy so close behind her she could feel his breath on the back of her head.

  Anna Stanley pushed open the door to the two-storey farmhouse and they all crowded in. The room was large, lined with cupboards and equipped with a pump over a sink and a wood-burning cookstove. Janey’s heart fell when she approached and realized it was stone cold.

  “Come in to the winter kitchen. It’s much warmer there,” said Anna. She opened another door and led the way into a smaller, cosier kitchen. Anna poured them coffee from a pot simmering on the stove and Janey followed Oleksiy’s example by adding three heaping spoons of sugar to the bitter brew.

  While her feet thawed and her fingers grew warm, Janey tried to explain what she knew about why she was there. Oleksiy had made himself small in a corner and refused to comment, but Anna seemed to understand.

  “Mama was so worried. She thought you’d disappeared forever into one of the old coal mine shafts. She sent Papa and Peter looking through all the abandoned tunnels, but they never found you.”

  “So does that mean that you were all right after the fire?” Janey looked fearfully at Anna, waiting for an answer.

  “Well, we had to sleep on our neighbours’ winter coats for a few nights, because our bedding was all wet,”Anna said, laughing.“But the fire pushed Papa to leave the mines and really look for land. We were in our own house that Christmas.”

  “Anna, I have to know – did your doll survive?”

  “My doll? You mean Henrietta?” Anna laughed softly.

  “Come here,” she said, grabbing Janey by the hand. She dragged her around the corner into the parlour. “Look,” she said, lifting a cover off a doll’s cradle.“This is where Elisabeth, our daughter, put her before going to visit her Oma over Christmas in the city.”

  “You have children?”

  “Yes, two. Elisabeth and Thomas.And a husband, of course. Eric Stanley. He’s in St. Albert this week, working on the telephones.”

  A crackle sputtered forth from a big wooden box in one corner.

  “A radio!” said Oleksiy, showing enthusiasm for something for the first time since he’d found out about Janey. “Have you heard anything about the Mercy Flight?”

  FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS, while cold January winds whipped snow against the frozen landscape, the excited reports about Wop May and Vic Horner’s daring flight into Canada’s northern outposts gripped the little farmhouse, and indeed the whole province. Every delay, every emergency landing, every scramble for extra fuel was described in thrilled tones over the airwaves.When the radio announced that the Hudson’s Bay Company man in Red River, the site of the original outbreak, had died before the medicine arrived, Janey blinked back tears and Oleksiy cleared his throat several times.

  The pair had barely spoken to each other. Because the weather was too cold to leave, they had bunked down in the Stanley children’s rooms, studiously avoiding any conversation. Oleksiy was wary around Janey, not sure what to think about her, while Janey was too wrapped up in her own worries. What was going on with Granny? she wondered. Was Dad coping, all by himself? When she got back to her own time, would they stay in Edmonton, or go back to Toronto? Sitting in the middle of that cold, white world was like being in her own eternal waiting room.

  When the newsreader excitedly announced that the plane would return to Edmonton on the third afternoon, Oleksiy broke his silence with Janey. “I’m going back to that airport, even if I have to walk. From there I can get a ride with someone into town. You gonna stay here?”

  Janey looked at the hazel eyes that were so similar to her own.“No, I’ll come with you. I think I need to see the plane land.”

  THE CROWD WAS TEN TIMES as large as it had been when Wop May took off. Thousands of people were milling about, stamping their feet, clapping their hands, and scanning the overcast skies. The police officer who had stopped the children several days before seemed to have given up; the runway was clogged with onlookers.

  Rumours went out that another plane had taken off to lead the heroes home, but bad weather had forced it back. It was already late when crowds heard the sputtering drone of an aircraft engine, and officials cleared a path on the runway.

  In the press of bodies that surged forward, Janey and Oleksiy were carried to the front of the crowd. As the plane landed and taxied to a stop in front of them, loud cheers nearly deafened Janey. The pilots sat, seemingly transfixed, in the open cockpit.

  Finally someone shouted, “They’re frozen to the controls!” Several men rushed forward, pried the frozen fingers away, and lifted the pilots bodily from the plane.

  “Take your goggles off, will ya, May, so we can get a good picture?” the reporters and photographers clamoured.

  Someone reached over and pulled off the goggles, the helmet, the woollen muffler. Last came the silk scarf; Janey’s silk scarf.

  “Aahhh!”

  Was it only Janey who heard Wop May’s cry of pain? The crowd kept cheering while May fingered his mouth. Then his eyes fell on Janey. “You!” he said, working his way free and coming up to her.“You said this wouldn’t freeze on my lips! Just look what it’s done to me!”

  Janey saw the blood oozing from the pilot’s dry, frozen lips. Horrified, she turned and plunged into the crowd. How stupid of her, to think that a dumb little scarf was supposed to somehow save the life of her grandmother. She elbowed through the throng, frantically hoping that somehow the ground would swallow her up, as it had in the past.

  No such luck. The hangar loomed ahead of her, and she ducked inside. Maybe she could find Daniel and he could...what?

  Janey crumpled into a corner. She’d been a fool. What was she doing here? She’d have been more help sitting beside her dad in the waiting room, instead of stupidly thinking she could be of some help in something as important as this. Obviously she’d been wrong. And how was she supposed to get back, so she could sit with her dad and maybe hold her grandmother’s hand when the operation was done? A wave of misery and homesickness washed over Janey and she began to sob.

  “Janey?” The voice was anxious. She looked up and saw Oleksiy beside her, the bloody silk scarf dangling from his hand.

  “Get that thing away from me,” she snivelled, wiping away tears.

  “But Janey, you should have heard him!” said Oleksiy, crouching down beside her.

  “I did hear him. I practically heard the skin ripping from his lips when they took the stupid scarf off.”

  “Oh, he was just joking about that. You should have heard him later. He said the scarf is what probably saved the whole expedition.”

  Janey looked up. “Really?”

  Oleksiy nodded. “He said that on the way up he’d forgotten he was wearing it and one of the ends came untucked and was flapping around behind him. He couldn’t figure out what it was and turned around to look. That’s when he noticed that the charcoal heater had caught fire. He said that without this scarf, he wouldn’t have seen the fire until it was too late. They had to make an emergency landing to put out the fire, and then they travelled with the medicine inside their shirts, wrapped in this scarf.”

  “Really?” Had her scarf made the difference? Had she made a difference?

  Oleksiy nodded again. Janey wished she had something to blow her nose with, and briefly thought about the scarf. From deep in his overalls, Oleksiy pulled out a slightly dirty handkerchief and handed it, with the scarf, to her.

  Janey took the handkerchief, blew hard, and then said, “Keep the scarf, Oleksiy. Look, I’m sorry if you thought I wasn’t being honest with you, but I’ve got my own problems.”

  “Mr. May said something else, Janey. He said to tell you the Hudson’s Bay man who died was named Logan, and is that any relation t
o the Logan girl you asked about.”

  Janey blinked. Was there any significance? Was that it? But if he died, then how...? She stood up, suddenly desperate to get back, to see if her grandmother was all right.“Thanks, Oleksiy.That helps a bit, but now all I want to do is go back to my own family and my own home.”

  She stood up.“The thing is, normally I seem to go through some kind of a hole, or a mining tunnel, or something, but in all this ice and snow, I’m not sure how...”

  Two steps away from her was a trapdoor in the floor, the kind that might lead to a small underground storage space. She pulled open the covering and examined a ladder that descended into the darkness. Her body grew tingly and for the first time since she’d left the Stanley farm, she felt warm.

  “Well, Oleksiy Kanasewich, I think it’s time for me to go.” He looked at her, puzzled. She could feel the heat coming out of the trapdoor, and was surprised Oleksiy hadn’t noticed.

  But the boy was looking at her from across the trapdoor.“Janey, I don’t really understand you, but I’m sorry I was...” Janey cut him off by stepping toward him and handing him her jacket, mittens, and hat.

  “I think,” she said suddenly, looking more closely at the boy,“you’ll be able to use these much more than me.Take care of them for me.”

  She pulled off the straps to the overalls and Oleksiy backed away. “No, don’t worry, I’ve got other clothes underneath,” she said, but paused. The heat from the trapdoor was rising. “Look, Oleksiy, I think you’re going to do fine. I think you’ll meet a lovely young woman in a red-and-white-striped dress and shoes that are a little too tight who will love you truly. And you will find her a beautiful house that she will cherish. And you will have a wonderful little family.” She was rushing now, because the heat was making her dizzy. She leaned over, kissed the boy on the cheek, and stepped onto the first rung of the ladder.

  “Remember me, Oleksiy.”Then she disappeared.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE LATE AUGUST SUN HAD WARMED GRAN-ny’s favourite bench in the ravine. It was a blue metal contraption shaped like a seated man and woman with a spaniel at their feet. Granny said it always reminded her of herself and Grampa.