When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West)

by Janette Oke

  In the morning, before the sun returned to the sky, Wynn could sense that the trader had plans for some new deception. Wynn decided that he must move first and so he did. He worked himself around slowly in the cover of the snowbanks and spruce trees until he was no longer in front of the man, but to his left side.

  Wynn could tell that the man was preparing for travel. Knowing that time was against him, he made a dash for the camp, hoping to catch the man off guard.

  The plan worked. The surprise rush gave Wynn just enough time to shoot the gun from the man’s hand as he swung around to meet him. There was a price to pay, though, for as the trader’s gun went off the bullet caught Wynn in the right leg, causing a painful flesh wound.

  Wynn didn’t say too much about what happened after that, but somehow he managed to get the bootlegger in cuffs and extract from him the locations of the trappers he had dealt with.

  There were two others besides the ones Wynn had already seen, and with the illegal trader leading the way, Wynn traveled to those cabins to check on the men. At the first cabin they discovered a very angry Indian man who himself had been tramping the woods looking for the trader. Wynn assured him that justice would be done, and sent him to recruit the help of another nearby trapper to transport all the stolen furs back to the village where they would duly be returned to the rightful owners.

  Then Wynn and the arrested man went on to the last victim. It was as Wynn feared. The trapper, in his drunken condition, had been unable to keep his fire going and had frozen to death in the sub-zero weather.

  Wynn tied this body, too, on his sled and, with the two dead men and the outlaw in handcuffs, he headed back to the village.

  Now the prisoner was in the security of the Post jail. Wynn told me he would spend the night at home and then set out to bring the man to Edmonton.

  I protested. He was in no condition to travel again so soon, I told him, but Wynn waved aside my concern.

  “Elizabeth,” he said, “that man is deadly. Never in my years of law enforcement have I met a man as cold and calculated. He would stop at nothing.”

  I was sure Wynn was right and that only increased my fear.

  Wynn did allow me to nurse the angry red wound in his leg. I was afraid it would become infected, but Wynn poured on medicine that made him wince with the pain and assured me it would heal just fine. He did, however, take more of the disinfectant with him when he left the next morning. I didn’t know if that was a good or a bad sign.

  My greatest fear was for Wynn’s safety. The outlaw had already proved that he had no regard for human life. What was to stop him, in his desperation, from attempting to kill the man who was taking him in? Surely he would do everything in his power to avoid being tried for the crimes he had committed. Wynn, with little sleep and an injured leg, was at a disadvantage.

  I spent a restless day and a sleepless night, praying for Wynn’s protection. I was glad when morning finally came and I could crawl from my bed and try to find something to occupy my hands and mind. I was more than eager to bang the school bell that morning, and called the children a bit early to class. Their presence would help fill the emptiness of the cabin.

  I was mentally prepared for many sleepless nights and worryfilled days, but, much to my relief, Wynn was back that next evening. He had met two members of the Force who had been sent out from Edmonton to help with the manhunt.

  I was grateful to have Wynn back home again and glad that he had not had to travel all the way to Edmonton on his bad leg. He had been told by the man in charge of the mission to rest for several days, and he took his advice—at least for a few days. Then he was up and about, anxious to have more to do than catching up on his paper work. Soon he was back out among the villagers again, his limp barely noticeable.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Out

  The two trappers who had picked up the stolen furs had brought them in to Ian’s trading post, and Wynn oversaw the sorting of whose furs were whose. I couldn’t see how the men could tell one fur from another and asked Wynn about it.

  “Oh, they know their own furs all right, no problem there,” said Wynn. “Little marks or nicks or coloring. They can identify them all.”

  The furs of the dead trappers were traded in at the Post for the families of the men. Wynn told me that Ian had given them more than a fair price.

  All the village men returned from their traplines, and then I knew that spring really had returned.

  We finished up our classes, and I started to work on my garden.

  I was glad to have my hands back in the soil and to watch things begin to grow. A few of the other women in the village had seen the advantages of a garden, and Nimmie and I had been happy to help them get their own started.

  I was just settling in to another quiet summer day when Wynn came back to the house.

  “Are you all packed?” he grinned, and I looked at him questioningly.

  I knew Wynn was still trying to find a way for me to travel out of Edmonton, and then to Calgary. For several reasons, I was anxious and chafing to go, and yet at his words now, a strange little reluctance raised its head.

  “What do you mean?” I asked him.

  “I heard of a party going out, so I sent a runner to ask them if they could drop by this way.” I didn’t say anything.

  “If they come, they should be here sometime tomorrow. I expect that they will spend the night here and then move on early Thursday morning,” continued Wynn.

  Thursday morning. Excitement and doubt filled me at the same time. Could I really leave Wynn for several weeks with no means of communication between us?

  Wynn pulled me close. “I’m going to miss you, Elizabeth,” he said, taking for granted that I would be going.

  I sniffed. “Who is it?” I asked, almost hoping it would be someone whom I could refuse to travel with.

  “A couple from the Force. I didn’t discover their names.” Members of the Force! I could hardly refuse to go with them, if they would have me.

  “Are you sure they’ll be willing to take along a woman—?”

  “I think they will. Most of us try hard to accommodate one another. We need to help each other in any way we can. I’ll send along a small tent for your use. They won’t mind setting it up for you.”

  I sighed. “Then I guess I’d better get ready,” I said reluctantly.

  “I guess you had,” replied Wynn, and he kissed me on the nose and then went back to his work.

  I was suddenly in a frenzy. I hauled out my wardrobe and realized that I didn’t have a thing decent to wear. Whatever would I do? I had no time to make anything and no material to do so, even if there had been the time.

  I hope no one sees me before I have a chance to get to a store and make some purchases, I thought frantically.

  Yet I wasn’t as concerned about my own preparations as I was about Wynn. I did his laundry, although I had done it all just a few days before. I baked some fresh bread and some cookies and a cake. I made up some stew and sealed it in jars so that he could heat it as needed.

  In a fever pitch, I worked all afternoon and the next day until in the afternoon I heard the sound of many barking dogs in the village.

  I rushed to the window and looked down toward the settlement and found that the visitors had come. The men traveled in a wagon with a pair of tired-looking horses, thin and ill-kempt from the long winter.

  I could see even from my vantage that they wore the stripes of the Mounties. I saw Ian’s hand raise and point in the direction of our cabin, and then the wagon rolled on toward me.

  I had no hay to offer them for their horses but told them they were welcome to let them graze on the tall grass out back of our cabin, provided they kept them well away from my garden. The shorter one grinned at my comment and went to care for the horses.

  I invited them in to have a cup of coffee and some fresh bread and they seemed to like the idea. They were still at the table when Wynn came in. He had heard they had arrived and hurried h
ome to have a chance to visit with them and to catch up on any pertinent news.

  “So what takes you out?” he asked them. “New orders?”

  “No,” said the taller one known as Hank Lovess. “The war.”

  “They haven’t settled it then?” was Wynn’s response. “I was hoping by now it would be over and done with.”

  “Guess that’s what we’d all hoped, but ’fraid it ain’t so,” said the shorter one, Ted James. “From the reports we been gettin’ it might be lastin’ awhile yet.”

  “So you’re joining up?”

  “Gonna do what we can,” said James.

  Again I thought of Matthew. If this horrid war continued, would he go? A chill gripped my heart.

  The men talked on, but I went outside to the clothesline to get Wynn’s things so I could iron them. I didn’t want to hear about the war anyway.

  Wynn took the two men for a tour around the village while I prepared supper. I was relieved to have them out from under foot, and then I remembered that I would be “underfoot” for them for the next several days. I wondered how they felt about that.

  Just as Wynn had supposed, the men stayed overnight. They declined our offer to sleep on the floor in the cabin and spread their bed rolls out under the tall pine trees. Perhaps they knew Wynn and I needed this time alone. There was so much to say to one another and yet words were so inadequate. We talked on until late into the night, yet I can’t remember one thing of importance that was said.

  Morning came all too early. The men were anxious to get on the way, and I was determined not to be any more of a nuisance than was necessary. Wynn held me for a long time before we went to join the men, yet it wasn’t nearly long enough. When will I see him again? my heart wailed as my eyes searched his face one last time. He was sending a letter to Headquarters asking that when members of the Force next traveled back our way, I would be contacted and given opportunity to travel with them. That might be in a few days’ time, or several months—I did not know.

  The trip out was not too difficult—probably because I was better prepared and knew what to expect. I was busy counting off the days until we would be in Edmonton.

  The men were not talkative. They did not even converse with one another. I guess they were both used to silence.

  I tried to help out where I could, but even the cooking they did better than I, being more used to the trail and open fires.

  The nearer we got to Edmonton, the more my blood began to race. I was going “out.” How different would the world be from the one that I had left behind? How much change would there be in my family? How much change will they see in me? I wondered as I looked down at my faded, patched dress and rough hands.

  When we reached Edmonton, the men arranged for my stay in a hotel, purchased my train ticket to Calgary and told me how and when to be at the train the next morning. I thanked them for their kindness, and then with a lump in my throat, I wished them well in the war they were going to fight on behalf of myself and the rest of Canada. They had been good to me, these young gentlemen. They had not fussed nor pampered me, but they had been kind and patient. I assured them that my prayers would follow them.

  I was on my own then. On my own in a big city—I wonder if I still know how to act?

  I asked for help from the man behind the desk and set out, embarrassed about my attire, to find the nearest dress shop.

  After doing enough shopping to at least get me to Calgary in a somewhat presentable state, I went back to my room.

  What plush accommodations! I exulted. A soft carpet covered the floor, and lacy curtains, overhung by thick draperies, graced the window. The room was as large as our kitchen-living quarters, and then some. I hardly knew what to do with all that room to myself.

  I went into the bathroom and gasped in amazement at what at one time I had taken simply for granted. It had been years since I had seen such luxury. I crossed to the tub, my fingers caressing the smooth white surface. The towels were so soft they felt like Kip’s thick fur, and the room smelled as fresh as a pine forest.

  I ran the water, pouring in a generous supply of bubbly soap and then submerged myself in the warm, soapy water. It felt so good! I stretched out lazily. What a treat to get all of me in the tub at the same time!

  I don’t know how long I spent in the tub. I only know that by the time I reluctantly crawled from it, my fingers were all wrinkled and the water was quite cold.

  I wrapped myself in my worn old robe, thinking ahead to the soft fluffy one I had left behind at Mary’s. It would be good to see my fashionable clothes again. The soft things, the dainty things, the pretty colors, the frills and foibles. I could hardly wait. I had missed them.

  I dressed in my simple new gown. It really was quite becoming. I carefully did my hair up in a way I hadn’t combed it for ages. When I was done I surveyed myself in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised at how good I looked.

  Then I looked down at my hands and saw the stains and callouses from working in the garden, peeling vegetables, washing clothes on the scrub board, and I hid my hands behind me. I was no longer the cared-for and manicured girl who had left Calgary for the wilderness a few years earlier. I hoped no one would look at my hands. And then I noticed my arms. They had a number of telltale little welts on them, each indicating a spot where a mosquito or blackfly had visited me. I knew my face and neck bore the same spots, and my confidence began to quickly wane.

  Then I straightened up to my full height, reminding myself that I wasn’t “out” to set the fashion world to buzzing. I was here to see my doctor—to get some answers, to get some help. And, just as quickly as possible, I would be rejoining my husband in the North where I belonged.

  With those thoughts to bolster my courage, I left my room and went down to the front desk to ask the attendant where I might find the dining room.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Calgary

  The next morning as the train left the Edmonton depot bound for Calgary, I was almost giddy with excitement. I would soon be seeing my family again! I would be back to the city life I had once known. And, more importantly, I hoped to get some help from my doctor.

  The train had not changed. It was still ponderously slow and stopped at every little siding to waste some more precious time. I could hardly bear the agony of it all.

  At long last we came to Lacombe, and I strained to see if I could catch a glimpse of faces that I might know. Though the streets of the little town were busy, I did not see anyone whom I had known while a teacher there.

  At long last we were on our way again, chugging south, the tracks clicking as we made our slow progress.

  Again it was stop and go, stop and go. The sun swung around toward the west, hot as it came in the window. I wished for a seat on the other side of the aisle, but the train was filled with passengers. I shifted farther away from the window and tried to keep from looking out to determine just how far along the tracks we were.

  It was no use; I was soon crowding the window again, straining to see out and to guess the distance left to Calgary.

  We finally reached the city, and I held my excitement at bay while the train pulled into the depot and with a giant sigh, shuddered to a halt. I remembered well the first time I had entered Calgary. The city had changed much since then, but I had changed even more. The young, stylish schoolteacher from the East no longer existed. In her place was an older, wiser and, I hoped, more sensitive woman.

  Jon’s entire family was there to meet me. I had called them from the Edmonton hotel the evening before, telling them I would be arriving by train. They were almost as excited as I was. How the children had grown! I couldn’t believe how tall William was—and how mature-looking for a mere boy. He was a teenager now and hoped everyone would realize it.

  Sarah, too, had shot up and looked like a young lady rather than a child. She was now eleven and carried herself with an air of grace.

  But I suppose that it was Kathleen who had changed the most. From the dear
little child of four who had met me at the station and become my constant companion, she was now a young nineyear-old girl, poised and proper. I fell in love with her all over again, though I found it difficult not to wish the little girl back.

  Baby Elizabeth, who had been only a few months old when I arrived in Calgary the summer of 1910, was now ready to start school in the fall.

  Mary had the same bright smile, the same beautiful reddish hair, the same flashing eyes I remembered so well. Jon had not changed much either, although I noticed a few white hairs in his carefully trimmed sideburns.

  I looked around for Julie. I guess Mary could read my mind.

  “Julie is out of town. Her husband is taking some services at Lethbridge and Julie went with him. We phoned her last night and she was so excited she could hardly stand it. She was going to hop the train and come right on up, but he will be finished tomorrow and then they will both be home.”

  I understood, but it would be hard to wait.

  I hadn’t remembered that Jon and Mary’s beautiful home was so big. Nor so lovely. I wandered around, running my hand affectionately over furniture and fancies. I had almost forgotten that such things made up a house—at least some of them.

  Dinner was delicious. We had dishes that I had not tasted for years. Wonderful Stacy had prepared all my favorite things—stuffed chicken breasts, whipped potatoes, creamed broccoli, corn on the cob, and for dessert her famous chocolate mousse. I ate until I felt ashamed of myself.

  All the time I was enjoying Mary’s home and Stacy’s dinner, I thought of Wynn. If only he were with me—this would be sheer heaven! But Wynn was far away in his northland. A little ache tugged at my heart.

  Back in my old room and after soaking in a luxurious bath, I reclaimed one of my lacy, silk nightgowns. Feeling much the pampered lady, I climbed into bed, smiling to myself in the darkness. The bed was so soft and smelled so good that I had visions of the best sleep I’d had for years. But it didn’t work that way. I had become used to a harder mattress. I tossed and turned but sleep did not come. Around three o’clock, in desperation, I threw my pillow on the carpeted floor, took a blanket with me and lay down to sleep.