[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring

by Janette Oke

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  After a teary last farewell, we were on our way. I felt sad and excited all at the same time. I couldn't really understand or sort out what was going on inside of me. Wynn sensed my feeling and allowed me some quiet thoughts. On occasion he did point out things of interest, but he didn't push me for enthusiasm. The first several miles of the trip I had seen many times, as it took us through Red Deer and Lacombe. As the train stopped in Lacombe, I looked closely for someone on the street whom I might know; I was about to conclude that there was no one when Phillip, Lydia, and young Phillip-Wynn's brother, sister-in-law, and nephew-came aboard, ushering Wynn's mother down the aisle.

  "The conductor says they will be here for a few minutes, so he will give us warning when they are about to leave," Phillip informed us.

  We soon became busily engaged in conversation, catching up on all of the area news. It was no time until the conductor came to tell us that the train would be ready to leave again in about five minutes. We hated to see them go but were so glad for the time we were able to spend together. It was the first I had been able to call Mrs. Delaney, Sr., Mother, and I took pleasure in doing so.

  "God bless you, Elizabeth," she said. "It isn't as hard for me to let Wynn go this time, knowing he will be well looked after. You take care, though. From what Wynn has said in the past, the North can be a lonely place for a woman."

  I tried to assure Mother Delaney that I would be fine and was quite prepared for all that lay ahead. I wasn't quite as sure of myself as I tried to sound. With every mile of the whirling train wheels, my stomach tied into a little tighter knot. Had it not been for Wynn beside me, I'm sure I would have panicked and bolted long before we had reached even Lacombe.

  I tried to concentrate on the small settlements through which we passed. It was not easy. My mind was on other things. Even when Wynn spoke cheerily, pointing out this or that, I still couldn't get enthused-though I did try.

  I finally decided I must be tired and what I needed was sleep, so I curled up beside Wynn with my head against his shoulder and tried to do just that. It didn't work. My mind was far too busy. Sleep would not come. I heard soft breathing coming from my husband and realized he had been successful. I was glad for him. He was even more tired than I, I was sure. I hoped he would rest well. I tried to sit very still so as not to disturb him. I might have been still, but the train was not. We made another jerky stop and then, with a hiss and a chug, we began shifting this way and that in an effort to disengage some of the cars.

  Wynn quickly awoke and stirred slightly. I knew by the way he moved that he was afraid of waking me, so I sat up and smiled at him.

  "It's all right," I assured him. "I'm already awake."

  "Did you get any rest?" he inquired, concern in his voice.

  "Rest, yes. Sleep, no," I answered.

  "I'm sorry. Guess I dozed off there for a while."

  "Not for long," I informed him. "You might have if the train didn't keep stopping at every little house and teepee."

  Wynn chuckled. "That's the way it seems, doesn't it? Well, it isn't too much farther to Edmonton now."

  "What happens at Edmonton?"

  "We spend the night. I have a short meeting in the morning with some officials before we move on. You can sleep late if you like."

  "When do we leave?"

  "Not until about eleven."

  "When do I need to be up?"

  "I wouldn't think until about nine-unless you want to see a bit of the city."

  "I think I'll pass," I said, smiling tiredly. "Even nine sounds way too early."

  When I awoke the next morning, Wynn, as promised, had left me sleeping. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was already after nine, so I climbed quickly from my bed. I would need to hurry if I was to be ready when Wynn came back for me.

  I had just finished doing my hair when Wynn's key turned in the lock.

  "You're up," he greeted me. "I was afraid you might oversleep."

  "I did. A little," I admitted. "I really had to hurry to make up for lost time."

  "I don't think your sleeping time was lost time," he assured me. "You needed that."

  He crossed to kiss me. "You look more rested," he stated. "How do you feel?"

  I smiled. "Fine," I returned, trying to hide any anxiety I might feel. "Ready to start the trip to your wilderness."

  He gave me a big bear hug. "Then let's get going," he said. "You still need some breakfast before we start out."

  We continued our trip by river barge, a new experience for me. At first I was rather apprehensive. The day was cloudy and overcast and I didn't feel too safe on the free-floating contraption. It was guided along the river with only the help of long poles held in the hands of the men in our crew

  Wynn said that in the earlier days we would have been able to make the same trip on the North Saskatchewan in the comfort of a sternwheeler cabin, but with the advent of the railroads the boats had lost business and had been retired. There was no railroad to take us where we wanted to go, and so now we traveled on the flat barge, allowing the river to carry us along as it flowed northeast. The men who owned and operated the boat did not believe in wasting fuel on the downriver trip. Coming back upriver, they would put a simple motor to work.

  The sky looked like it might pour down rain. I wasn't sure how this odd boat would function if the waters started coming down from above. Would it still stay afloat?

  The seats provided weren't all that comfortable, and I soon was aching for a chance to stand up and walk around a bit. There didn't seem to be any opportunity, as nearly every square foot of the barge was piled high with something. I couldn't believe the amount of cargo it had heaped within its bulging sides. I looked around for our trunks and crates and almost panicked when I didn't see them. Wynn must have read my thoughts.

  "They're over there under the canvas," he stated simply, putting my mind at ease.

  "Want to stretch?" he asked after many minutes had passed by.

  "I'd love to," I responded quickly, "but where?"

  "Come," he said, holding out a hand to me. "I think we can manage a few minutes of it."

  It was difficult. We had to step over things, around things, duck under things, and hang on for dear life. The wind was up, and at times the river was rough. I tied my scarf more tightly under my chin and told Wynn that I would be fine for the time being. We returned to our uncomfortable seats.

  In the early afternoon the rains came. There wasn't any place to go to avoid them. Wynn found some kind of slicker and wrapped it tightly around me. The wind kept whipping and tearing at it, making it difficult to keep all sides of me under it at any given moment. I could feel patches of wet spots grow bigger and bigger. I tried not to think about them, but it wasn't easy. The rainwater was cold and the increasing wind made it even colder. In a few hours' time, I was really miserable but I tried hard not to show it.

  Wynn kept fussing over me-shifting the makeshift shelter this way and that, tightening it here, and tucking it in there. In the meantime, he, too, was getting wet. Those operating the barge seemed to take the storm for granted. They had likely been wet many times before while making this run.

  As the day passed, the sky was getting darker and the rains heavier. I wondered if we would travel all night long. How far would we go on this river anyway? I had heard the word Athabasca, but I didn't think that was our destination.

  Wynn came to tell me, "We're going to pull in early tonight. We'll try to dry out a bit. There's a little trading post ahead where we can take shelter. We should have gone farther tonight, but we'll wait for morning."

  I shivered and nodded my head thankfully. It was good news to me.

  It wasn't long until the shouting and straining of the barge crew told me that we were going ashore. There was a jolt and a thump as we hit some kind of dock in the darkness. Then Wynn was there to help me to solid ground. The wind and rain loosened my scarf, and soon my hair was tumbling crazily about my face. I tried to tuck it back ag
ain but I really didn't have a free hand. I gave up and decided to just let it blow.

  We headed for a dark shape in the gathering gloom. Then I spotted a light in a misty window. Though faint, the light did signal humanity; and I breathed a prayer of thankfulness as I tried, with Wynn s help, to hurry toward it.

  The smell of wood smoke reached my nose, and I thought of the wonderful warmth that would go with it. I hurried faster. In my eagerness to get to the house, I did not see the tree stump in my pathway.

  "Watch out!" Wynn cried when he saw what was about to happen, but it was too late. I banged my shin hard against the tough wood, and let out a sharp little cry at the stinging pain.

  Wynn kept me from falling, but from there to the house I stumbled along, limping painfully. Wynn asked to carry me but I stubbornly shook my head.

  When we reached what I had thought to be a house and stumbled through the door, I was disappointed to see that it was no house at all. It was a shed-a shed for trade. Boxes and crates and heaps and piles were stacked all around the single room in a haphazard fashion. One dim lamp sat upon a makeshift counter, throwing out an anemic light. The single window was so stained and dirty I wondered how I had been able to see the light from outside at all.

  In the corner of the room was what looked like a stack of furs. Upon closer observation, I discovered that it was, instead, a bed-of sorts. I shuddered to think of sleeping there.

  "Howdy," a voice said, and I whirled to see an ill-kempt man sitting beside the potbellied stove in the middle of the crowded room. He let fly with a line of dark spit that missed an open can, spattering against the side of the stove, causing a sizzling sound. He had not risen to meet us and he did not move now.

  Wynn jerked his head at the man. "Howdy, Charlie," he said. "Mind if we borrow your chair for a minute? My wife just gave her leg an awful whack on that tree stump you've got out front."

  It was the room's only chair, and Charlie rose reluctantly with a grunt of disgust.

  Wynn sat me down and lifted my skirt to get a good look at my injury.

  "Bring your lamp, would you, Charlie?"

  From the tone of Wynn's voice, I knew that, though it was Charlie's lodging, Wynn was in charge here. Everyone knew it.

  Charlie brought the lamp. My leg was bleeding, seeping through my torn stocking, making a sticky dark patch.

  "You've got to get out of those stockings," Wynn said to me.

  I looked helplessly about the room. There was no place to go.

  "But I can't," I insisted, casting a nervous glance at Charlie.

  "Turn your back, Charlie," Wynn ordered, and the grumbling Charlie obeyed. The light of the lamp turned with him. I felt a bit more comfortable in the semi-darkness and hastened to raise my skirt and unfasten the garters that held up my ruined stocking. I slipped it down as quickly as I could and let my skirt drop back in place. Charlie shifted from one foot to the other and spit again. I don't know where that one landed. Weakly I sat back down.

  "Okay," said Wynn, "let's have the lamp, Charlie."

  Charlie turned around. For one awful moment, I feared he might spit in my direction. He didn't. He stood holding the lamp nervously, trying not to look at the leg that Wynn was studying.

  "I don't think its too deep," Wynn was saying. "Nothing broken that-"

  "Except my stocking," I interrupted. Wynn's eyebrows went up.

  "Legs heal," I said, to inform him. "Stockings don't-and I was able to bring only a limited number with me."

  In spite of himself, Wynn smiled but made no reply.

  "Charlie, do you have any first-aid supplies around here?" he asked.

  Charlie grumbled and then muttered, "A few things."

  "Set the lamp down and get them, please," said Wynn. "I don't want to have to unload the barge to get at my supply."

  Wynn stood up to check the kettle sitting on the stove. It held water and that seemed to please him.

  While Wynn cleansed and bandaged my swelling leg, the other men entered. Apparently they were satisfied that they had secured the barge against the storm, and now wanted to be in where it was warm and dry.

  They greeted Charlie boisterously. In return, he greeted them with an oath, a spit, and a slap on the back.

  I felt very much out of place. It was apparent that these men didn't spend much time in the presence of a lady. They joked and swore and jabbed at one another with harmless fists. One man soon produced a rum bottle, which they seemed to think was just the thing needed to take the chill out of their bones.

  Wynn took charge because no one else seemed to have any mind to do so. He put on the coffeepot and asked Charlie for some tins of food for an evening meal. Charlie seemed reluctant to share until Wynn reminded him that he would be paid for anything that the Police Force used. Charlie then produced a couple of tins, and Wynn set about making some supper.

  I offered to help him but he declined my offer. "I think you should rest that leg all you can. Here, let me help you."

  Before I knew what had happened, Wynn lifted me from my spot on the chair by the stove to the pile of foul-smelling skins in the corner. I wanted to protest but the words caught in my throat.

  "I'm sorry, Elizabeth," whispered Wynn, "but I guess this will be your bed for tonight."

  I closed my mouth against the protest and the odor that came from the pile of furs as Wynn settled me gently on the bed.

  "You mean this is all there is here?" I asked incredulously.

  "This is it," answered Wynn.

  "But what about you-and them?"

  "We'll stay here, too. At least it's dry, and the fire will have our clothes dried out by morning."

  I looked quickly at the tiny, crowded, overstocked room. Suddenly it seemed terribly stuffy and suffocating. I wished for the out-of-doors so I could breathe freely again. But when I heard the howl of the wind and the lashing of the rain, I closed my eyes and tried to be thankful for the warmth of the smelly little cabin. Wynn patted my shoulder in sympathy.

  When supper was ready, a makeshift arrangement of a table was dragged up close to the stove. Wynn came to help me to it. I told him I really wasn't hungry and would gladly settle for just a hot cup of tea or coffee. He realized then that I was still in my wet clothes and shivering with the cold.

  "I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he said. "I was so anxious to get some hot food in you that I forgot about your wet things. I didn't realize you got as wet as you did. I guess the slicker didn't keep out much of the rain, eh?"

  "Oh, it did," I insisted bravely, comparing his soaked appearance to mine. "I only have a spot here and there, that's all."

  Wynn reached out to feel my clothing. "You're wet," he argued, "through and through. We'll get you out of them as soon as you get some hot soup down you."

  I wanted to protest further, but Wynn would have none of it. I allowed myself to be helped to the chair, and Wynn poured me a cup of the soup he had made. I sipped it slowly. It wasn't the best meal I had ever eaten, but it was hot, even tasty in a "canned" sort of way. My clothing on the side closest to the stove began to steam. I shifted around some to direct the heat on another section. I didn't really warm up, although a few spots of me were actually hot. It was a strange sensation to feel so hot in places and yet chilled at the same time. I finished my cup of soup and motioned to Wynn that I was ready to return to the heap called a bed.

  "Got a couple of blankets, Charlie?"

  Charlie lumbered up from the barrel on which he was sitting and spit at the stove as he reached up to a shelf.

  "Hudson's Bay," he grumbled. "Hardly used."

  "They'll still be hardly used come morning," Wynn answered, not to be intimidated by Charlie's growling. Wynn moved to where he could screen me from view with the blanket. "Now," he said, "get out of those wet things."

  I looked at him, wondering if he really meant what he said. The room was full of men.

  He meant it. I shrugged, unfastened my wet skirt and let it fall. I then removed my shirt and my pettic
oats, casting apprehensive glances at the blanket Wynn held for me.

  • I could tell by the noises on the other side of the makeshift wall that the four men were now enjoying Wynn's supper soup. There were slurps and smacking, and I was glad I wouldn't need to see as well as hear them eat. I wondered if Charlie could eat and chew tobacco at the same time, or if he actually disposed of his wad while he was dining.

  "Now climb up there and lie down," Wynn spoke softly, "and I'll tuck you in."

  He did as promised, using both of the blankets Charlie had provided. I lay there shivering. Wynn went back to the stove, took the cup I had used, and poured soup for himself. He then got a cup of coffee and came back to my bed. `Are you warming any?" I thought I was, though my teeth hadn't really stopped chattering.

  Now that Wynn no longer claimed the stove for his meal preparation and I no longer occupied the one chair in the room, the men moved in closer to the heat. Their clothing began to steam and smell, not improving the odor in the room. I was glad I had already eaten. I couldn't have swallowed with that strong, offensive smell in the room.

  I tried to move over to give Wynn room to sit down on the bed beside me, but this was truly a one-man bed. Wynn crouched beside me and sipped his coffee. I could see the clothes hugging tightly to him.

  "You're still wet," I stated. "You'll get sick."

  "I'll dry soon. I'll be okay. Why don't you try to get some sleep?"

  I wanted to retort, "Here?" But I knew that "here" was the best he could offer, so I simply nodded.

  Wynn moved back to the stove where the men were busy eating and joking.

  "Hey, Sarge," quipped one of the boatmen. "Not bad soup for a lawman."

  The other men joined in his guffaw at his tremendously funny joke. Wynn just nodded his head.

  "Much obliged for your home and your bed tonight, Charlie," said Wynn sincerely.

  Charlie looked over to the corner where I huddled. He had finished eating, so he was free to chew and spit again, which he now did. It landed on one of the boatmen's boots. The fellow did not even glance down.

  "No problem," Charlie assured Wynn. "Me, I ain't aimin' on usin' the bed tonight nohow."