by Janette Oke
It did not last long. In less than a half hour or so it was over. The dark clouds moved on, the thunder continuing to rumble in the distance.
The storm had not improved our road any. Where we had, a few minutes before, been traveling in dust, we now were in muck. Wynn said we were lucky-such a hard rain had a tendency to run off rather than to soak like gentler rain would have done. But I wondered how the trail could possibly have gotten any muddier.
I felt sorry for the horses as they labored through the mud which made the already heavy load even heavier. We both walked whenever we could find halfway decent footing to save them the extra weight. Wynn stopped frequently to let them catch their breath. Their sides heaved and their backs began to steam; but they seemed impatient to get on with it and were soon chomping at the bit at every stop.
The storm brought one blessing. For a few merciful minutes, the mosquitoes stayed away. I was just about to share my joy with Wynn when the pests began to buzz around us again.
"I've been told that there are some trappers who live along this route," Wynn informed me as we trudged on. "I had hoped to make it to their cabin tonight."
I was glad to hear there were people living along the trail. Then I remembered Charlie.
"Just men?" I asked.
"No, they have womenfolk-and children, I believe."
That was even better news.
"How far?"
"I'm not sure. I've never been up this way before."
"Do you think we'll make it by dark?"
"I'm hoping so-but, if not, we'll be fine camping out if we need to. Remember, you had wanted the experience of sleeping under the stars on our Banff honeymoon."
I nodded. I remembered well. And then our honeymoon had been cut so short there wasn't time.
"It might be fun," I answered Wynn. "Do you think it will rain some more?"
Wynn checked the sky. "I don't think so. Not tonight. Maybe a little tomorrow."
"Oh, dear," I fairly groaned at the news. "Will we get held up again tomorrow?"
"I hope it won't be stormy enough to stop us-but it might be rather miserable traveling for a spell."
The long summer day of sunlight allowed us to continue traveling till after ten o'clock. We had not even stopped to eat, munching instead on hard, dry sandwiches and sipping water from the flask Wynn had filled that morning.
"Well," Wynn said, just as I was beginning to realize how very weary I was, "I'm afraid we are going to have to give up on that cabin. We need to stop. You must be exhausted, Elizabeth, and the horses need a chance to rest and feed."
I looked around at the scraggly evergreens. We had passed through much prettier spots earlier in the day.
"It looks like there might be a clearing just up ahead. The grass should be better there. Let's have a look."
Wynn was right. Much to our surprise, at the opposite side of the clearing stood a small log cabin.
"Well, look at that," said Wynn, relieved. "The trappers. And right when we need them."
The cabin appeared to be very small. I looked around for another one. Wynn had mentioned more than one family. I couldn't see another cabin. It must be hidden in the trees.
"Do you think one of the families might have room for us?" I asked Wynn.
Wynn smiled. "Oh, they'll have room all right. Even if we all have to stand still to manage it, there'll be room."
I looked perplexed and Wynn explained. "Hospitality in the North is as much a part of life as eating and sleeping. They might not have much, but whatever they have is yours."
As we approached the cabin, I looked down at myself in embarrassment. Wynn had said there were women here, and I would be turning up at their door in my male attire looking like a pincushion-bites and scratches and bruises indicating a much-used pincushion at that. I didn't have the time or the opportunity to make any repairs on my appearance. We had already been spotted.
We were met in the yard by four small children-three boys and a girl. I had never seen such chewed-up hands and faces in my life. I was a mess, but they were even more so. They seemed to take it all for granted, chatting with us and swatting insects as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
The children ushered us into the house and, to my surprise, we found that it was home to two families. The men saw no reason to furnish and supply wood for more than one cabin. It was one long, open room shared by four adults and four children. Another baby was on the way, probably due any day.
The woman who met us at the door and welcomed us in was just as mosquito-bitten as the children, as was the one who turned from the stove and smiled a shy welcome. I relaxed about how I looked, but at the same time I winced. Would I look like this the entire time I lived in the north country? Surely not, God, I whispered in dismay.
With great ceremony we were immediately seated at.a crude table, while the woman at the stove brought huge bowls of steaming stew and set them before us. They had been about to have their evening meal; and upon our arrival, the women had given us their places at the table. I wanted to protest, but Wynn nudged me forward and I understood that to decline their invitation as welcomed guests might offend them. With mixed feelings I sat down and smiled at them appreciatively. I was hungry and the food smelled delicious.
I recognized none of the vegetables I saw in my dish. Wynn informed me that the women were experts at combing the forest for edible plants. I smiled at them again, thanking them for sharing their supper.
"We be so glad to see ya, yet doin' us the favor," declared the older one with simple courtesy.
No grace was said before we began, so I offered, unobtrusively, my own short prayer of thanks. I blessed Wynn's food as well, as the men did not give him any time for such an observance. Immediately they began plying him with questions about the outside world.
The children ate noisily. It was plain that manners were not considered necessary around this table. A common cup passed from person to person with the hot drink that went with the meal. I smiled and passed it on. To my chagrin, Wynn lifted it without hesitation and drank deeply. I fervently prayed again-that God would keep him from getting some dreadful disease.
"That was very good," I said to the cook when we had finished. "I wish we had time to let you show me how to make it."
She dipped her head shyly.
"Wasn't nothin'," she stated. "It's the bear that gives it the flavor."
"Bear?" I echoed, feeling my stomach contract.
"Bear meat's 'bout the best there is," observed her cabin-sister.
For a moment, I thought I would bolt from the table; but then I saw Wynn's amused eyes on my face and I swallowed hard and smiled.
"Well, it certainly is," I answered her evenly. "That was very tasty."
I saw the look of unbelief cross Wynn's face, and I smiled againdirectly into his eyes. "Maybe when we get settled, you can shoot a bear," I challenged him, "and I can make you some stew like this."
He laughed outright. I'm sure no one else at the table understood our little joke.
We did spend the night with the trappers and their families. There were two beds in the room. We were given one of them. The two women took the other; and the two men, without comment or protest, took robes and blankets from a stack in the corner and spread out on the floor with the children, everyone sleeping fully clothed.
THIRTEEN
✓he Lasi (D-/ ay on
foie 71-ai/-
After Wynn had dressed my injured leg the next morning and expressed again his pleasure at how nicely it was healing, we were on our way. With luck, this would be our last day on the trail.
I followed Wynn's advice and draped a scarf over my head and down around my neck, but the pesky little mosquitoes and flies still got at me. The hairline at the back of my neck seemed to be their special delight.
"How do the people stand it?" I asked Wynn as I scratched at the swelling lumps.
"It's one of the things they learn to live with," he shrugged.
&nb
sp; I didn't like the answer. Mostly because I knew that it implied I must learn to live with it as well.
It was a beautiful July day; and, though clouds passed by overhead, it did not rain. The warm sun soon had dried the rain of the day before from the track. Only in spots did we still plow through messy, gooey, wet places, the horses throwing themselves against their collars and straining to pull the heavy wagon. Wynn would always stop them for a breather and soon they were chomping and straining to be on the way again.
Occasionally, we traveled along the banks of a stream or beside a still lake. The fish would jump to feed on the swarming insects that got too near the water's surface. I wished them good hunting-each fish's dinner was one less to bother me!
We stopped around noon in an area covered with tall fir trees. I recognized several different varieties, but I didn't know enough to be able to separate them by name. Wynn was much too busy unhitching the horses and getting the fire going to answer questions, so I walked off alone, observing as I walked and storing questions for later. I kept Wynn in sight so I wouldn't get lost.
By the time the fire was burning briskly, I was back to help with our meal.
We did not stop for long.
In a swampy area I spotted a mother moose and her young one, even without Wynn pointing them out to me. I was pleased with myself.
"Look!" I cried. `A moose-two mooses."
Wynn smiled and nodded his head as he. followed my pointing finger. He turned to me and said simply, "I must correct you, Elizabeth, so you won't be laughed at-moose is both singular and plural."
I guess I had known that; but, in my excitement, I had forgotten. I nodded in appreciation of Wynn's concern for me. I also appreciated the fact that he had not laughed.
I watched the moose until they were lost from sight and then I turned to Wynn. "What else?" I asked.
"What else, what?" he puzzled.
"What other animal names are both singular and plural?"
"Deer. Elk. Caribou." Wynn stopped.
"Bear?" I asked him.
"Bear? No, it's quite all right to refer to `The Three Bears."'
`Any other?"
"Likely."
"Likely? You mean you don't know?"
"They don't come to mind right now."
"How will I know what to say if-?"
He smiled at me and reached to push back a lock of unruly hair that insisted upon curling around my cheek. "You'll learn. You're very quick."
I flushed slightly under his smile and the compliment. It was good to know Wynn was not afraid that he might be embarrassed by his city-bred wife.
"Are we almost there?" I asked Wynn like a child for the tenth time. We had stopped for our evening meal.
He smiled at me and spread out his map. He carefully studied our surroundings, looking for some identifying signs. I couldn't make head nor tail of Wynn's map. After a moment of study, he pointed to a spot on the map. "We are about here," he said. "That should leave us about nine or ten miles to go. No, not quite," he corrected himself. "More like seven to eight."
"Will we make it tonight?"
"I certainly hope so-but it won't be early. It's a good thing we have lots of daylight for traveling. I'm afraid we're going to need it."
I loaded our supper things back in the wagon while Wynn hitched the horses, and we were on our way again. Perhaps we had made our last stop-I certainly hoped so. Excitement took hold of me as I thought of how close I was getting to my new home.
The horses seemed to sense they were getting close to home, too; and Wynn had to hold them back in spite of their tiredness and the heavy wagon they pulled.
I felt too excited and tense to even talk, so the last leg of our journey was a quiet one. But my mind was full of questions-some that even Wynn would not have been able to answer, not having lived at Beaver River himself. What will our little cabin be like? What will our neighbors be like? Will there be any white women at the Post? Will the Indians like me and accept me? Will I ever be able to converse with them? The thoughts whirled about in my head, making me almost dizzy.
The sun dropped into the west, closer and closer to the horizon. Still we had not reached Beaver River, and I was beginning to wonder if Wynn had made an error in his estimation-easily forgiven considering the little information he had been given. I was about to wonder aloud when Wynn spoke.
"Would you spread out that map on your lap, please? I want to take another look at it while it's still light enough to see well."
I spread out the map and, without comment, Wynn began to refigure.
"If I've got it worked out right, the settlement should be right over this next hill."
I wanted to shout for joy. In my excitement I reached over and gave Wynn a quick and unexpected hug which sent his stetson tumbling into the dust of the roadway. By the time Wynn got my arms untangled and the team stopped, his Royal North West Mounted Police hat had been run over by the steel rim of the heavy wagon wheel. Horrified, I watched Wynn walk back to retrieve the poor thing from the dirt. It was now quite flat where it should have been nicely arched. I covered my remorseful face with my hands but Wynn returned to the wagon smiling; and, after a bit of pummeling and a punch here and there, he settled the hat back on his head-a few unsightly lumps, but it was in better shape than I had dared to hope.
Wynn was right. As we rounded the brow of the hill before us, there lay the little settlement at our feet. I refrained myself from hugging Wynn again. Instead, it was Wynn who hugged me.
"There it is, Elizabeth," he whispered against my cheek. "There's home."
"Home," I repeated. It was a magic word and brought tears to my eyes. I tucked my arm within Wynn's, even though he did need both hands on the reins. To think of it! We were almost home.
In the gathering dusk, it looked like a friendly little village to me. We could see the flag flying high over the Hudson's Bay Company Store. Scattered all around that central building were others of various sizes. At our approach, dogs began to set up a howl. People appeared in doorways and looked our way. A few of them even waved an arm to the approaching team. I suppose everyone in the settlement knew well who was in the coming wagon. They would be waiting to size up the new lawman and his wife. I held Wynn's arm more tightly.
"Tell me again," I asked, "what did you say the name of the Hudson's Bay man was?"
"McLain," said Wynn. "Ian McLain."
"And he's not married?"
"I couldn't find anyone who knew. I asked, but no one had heard of a Mrs. McLain."
"I suppose that means there isn't one," I said in resignation.
"Not necessarily. There really isn't much reason for the records to show if there is a wife or not. The agent is listed, not his family."
I took this as a spark of hope, but I wasn't going to count too strongly on another white woman in the village.
Darkness was closing in quickly now that we had passed down the hill. Windows were beginning to light up with lamps. The noise of the dogs increased as more people gathered around. I looked over the crowd of white men and several Indians. My eyes searched on. Who was Mr. McLain? Was he alone?
Wynn pulled the team to a halt before the large Hudson's Bay building and called out a friendly greeting to the men gathered there. A tall, square man with a heavy beard stepped forward. "Welcome to Beaver River, Sarge," he said. "Name here is Ian McLain."
He was alone.
FOURTEEN
YfOme
Wynn shook hands with many of the men who had gathered around and nodded his head to others as he moved about. For a moment I felt forgotten. I didn't know whether to climb down from the wagon or to stay where I was until someone noticed me. Eventually I could feel eyes turning my way. Wynn invited the Hudson's Bay Post employee closer to the wagon and smiled up at me. "My wife, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Mr. McLain."
McLain reached up and gave my hand a hearty shake.
"Come in. Come in," boomed Mr. McLain, but Wynn cut in rather quickly.
; "We've had a long six days, and Elizabeth is anxious to get settled. If you could just point out the cabin for our use, we'd be grateful."
Mr. McLain nodded in understanding. He pointed west toward a stand of trees. The outline of a cabin showed faintly against the last glimmer of daylight.
"Right on over there," he informed us.
"Is there a place there to keep the horses?"
Mr. McLain took a look at the team and suddenly remembered something.
"Where's Canoue?" he asked.
"Sleeping when I last saw him. He got to sharing whiskey with the boys and I wasn't able to rouse him. I couldn't wait, so we left him behind."
The Hudson's Bay man shook his head. "He has his problems with the bottle. I warned him. `Canoue,' I said, `don't you go messin' this one up. I can't keep findin' you work if ya ain't able to stay with it.' Needed that money." McLain shrugged his shoulders. "There ain't no place for horses over to `the law'; you can bring 'em back on over here. I got a corral out back," the man continued.
All the time this conversation was taking place, I could feel eyes studying me. Mostly we were surrounded by men, but now I saw a few Indian women and some young people and children. I smiled at them, though I must admit I felt as out of place and uncomfortable as I ever had in my life. I was anxious for Wynn to end his conversation and get us out of there and home.
At last he climbed back up into the wagon, turned the team around and headed for the little cabin which was to be our first home.
I felt tingles go all through me. What would it be like? Would it be in good repair? Would it have that private bedroom I wanted so badly? I fought the temptation to close my eyes until I actually got there. I was anxious and afraid-all at one time.
When Wynn said "whoa" to the team, I knew the moment was at hand. He turned to me and drew me close. "Well," he murmured softly, "are you ready?"
I couldn't get my lips to move, so I just nodded my head against him.
"What will you need tonight?"