[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring

by Janette Oke

  "I'll ask." She spoke rapidly to the other ladies, who were trudging on single file down the trail. No one stopped and no one turned to enter the conversation; they just called back and forth. After a few minutes of exchanges, Anna turned to me.

  "Why you want us come?" she asked forthrightly.

  I was a bit taken aback. "Well, just to-to-to get to know you better. To make friends-to maybe have some tea-"

  She interrupted me then. "Tea," she said. "That's good."

  She talked again to her companions. I heard the word "tea," which seemed to be a drawing card. There was a general nodding of heads.

  "We come-sometime," said Anna.

  "Good!" I exclaimed. "How about tomorrow?"

  Anna looked puzzled. "Why?" she said. "Why tomorrow?"

  "Well, I-I'd like you to come as soon as possible."

  "Come when ready," responded Anna, and I nodded my head.

  "Come when ready," I agreed.

  Two days later I looked up from my sewing to see Little Deer standing in my doorway. I had not heard her knock. She came in smiling and took the seat I offered her. I got out the teapot and made the tea. We couldn't talk, so we just sat smiling and nodding at one another. She had watched with great interest as I lifted china cups from my cupboard. I didn't have any cake or cookies, so I cut slices of fresh bread and spread it with the jam I had made with some of my berries.

  We had just taken our first sip from the cups when Evening Star walked in. She had not knocked either. I got another cup and we continued our tea party. When we finished I decided to show the two ladies around our house. They carefiilly looked at everything, their faces showing little emotion. I couldn't tell if they were pleased, puzzled, or provoked at what they saw. Nothing seemed to move them in the least.

  I came to my kitchen and proudly demonstrated how I could sweep aside my curtains and reveal the dishes and food stacked on the shelves. Evening Star reached out a hand and tried it herself. She lifted the curtain, peered in behind it, and let it fall back in place. Then she did it again. She turned to Little Deer and spoke a word in her native dialect. Not only did she say it once, but she repeated it, and Little Deer said it after her. At last, I had found something that impressed them! I said the word over and over to myself so I would remember it. I wanted to ask Wynn about it when he got home.

  It wasn't long after our tea party until Wynn was home for supper. I still had the Indian word on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to be sure to ask him before I lost it.

  Almost as soon as he entered the door, I asked him. It was a difficult word for my tongue to twist around, and I wasn't sure I could say it correctly.

  "What is winniewishy?" I asked him.

  Wynn puzzled for a moment and then corrected my pronunciation.

  "That's it. What does it mean?"

  "Where'd you hear that?" asked Wynn.

  "Two of the ladies were here today for tea," I informed him excitedly. "What does it mean?"

  "Well, in English, I guess we'd say nuisance. Why?"

  Nuisance! They had viewed and touched my curtains and pronounced them a nuisance? For a moment I was puzzled and hurt, and then it struck me as funny and I began to laugh.

  "What's so funny?" asked Wynn.

  "Oh, nothing, really. That was just the opinion of the ladies about the pretty, unpractical curtains over my cupboards."

  It was Sunday again, though I had a hard time really convincing myself of that fact. It seemed so strange not to be preparing for church. I missed the worship. I missed the contact with friends. I missed being with my own family. But, most of all, I missed the feeling of refreshing that came from spending time with other believers in praise and prayer.

  We set aside some time, just the two of us, in a manner that would become our practice for the years ahead in the North; and, with Bible in hand, we had our own brief Sunday worship service.

  The next day, my washday, I was busy with ironing when a call from within my doorway announced another visitor. It was Evening Star. Right behind her came Mrs. Sam and Little Deer. I put aside my ironing and fixed the tea. The women seemed to enjoy it, smacking their lips appreciatively as they drank. We had just finished when Anna appeared. I made another pot and we started all over again.

  With the coming of Anna, I was able to talk to the women. "I thought you might like to do some sewing," I said to them. "I have things all ready."

  I went to my bedroom trunk and brought out material that I had already prepared to make pillows. I also brought needles and thread and proceeded to show the ladies how to go about stitching up the pillows. They started somewhat clumsily with the lightweight material, but seemed to catch on quickly enough. When they had finished, they handed the pillows back to me.

  "Oh, no," I told them. "You may keep them. Take them home with you." I pointed to the many pillows I had on the cot. "You can use them in your own homes," I said, and Anna passed on the information. The women still looked a bit hesitant, but they all left with their pillows.

  The next day the women came again, all walking right in as they arrived. I decided I would talk to Anna about it-explain that one did not just walk into another's house without knocking first. She would be able to inform the other ladies. It was uncomfortable for me, not knowing when someone might suddenly appear at my elbow.

  Again we had our tea. I began to wonder just what I had started. Did the ladies think they needed to come to my house every day of the week for a tea party? I was glad they liked to come, but I wasn't sure how to put a stop to this as a daily event.

  After tea I was all prepared to go and get some more sewing. They seemed to easily have mastered the simple cushion;. now perhaps they would like to try something a little more difficult. I excused myself and went to my bedroom. While I was gone, there was a shuffling in the kitchen. Little Deer left the room and went to the outside step. I had returned to the kitchen-living room when she came back with some baskets on her arm. The ladies had each brought her own sewing. I stood dumbstruck as I watched the deft fingers move rapidly in and out of the material. Intricate designs in thread and bead-work were quickly forming under skilled hands. I could feel embarrassment flooding my face with deep color. To think that I, Elizabeth Delaney, had had the foolish notion that I could teach these women how to sew! Why, their work would put mine to shame any day. I didn't even know the right words to apologize

  Welk Elizabeth, I said to myself, you certainly have a lot to learn.

  I did speak to Anna about my desire for the women to knock before entering. She looked puzzled. It seemed that even at the mission school knocking was not a custom. However, she nodded her head and passed the word on to the other women. They, too, seemed at a loss for the reason behind this, but they also nodded. I was relieved that the matter had been well taken care of.

  The next day I was in the yard shaking a rug when Anna arrived. She was alone, but I expected that a number of the others would soon follow. I led her into the house, opening the door for her and letting her pass on ahead.

  She hesitated. Neither of us moved for a moment, and finally Anna said, "You not knock."

  "Oh, no," I tried to explain. "That's fine. Go ahead. It's only at your house that I would knock. Not at my house."

  She looked at me like I had really lost my senses, but she went in.

  That day we were joined for tea by Mrs. Sam and Kinawaki, both of whom knocked before entering even though they arrived together. Evening Star and Little Deer did not come.

  When Wynn got home that night, he took off his heavy boots and stretched out his long legs to rest his tired muscles. I knew he had been working very hard during these first few weeks on the post. He wanted to know his area thoroughly before the bad weather set in, so he might be well-prepared for trouble spots. I was bustling around with lastminute supper preparations.

  "You know," he said to me, "I saw the strangest thing when I came through the village tonight. There was Anna, knocking on her own door. They never have a loc
k on their doors, so she couldn't have been locked out. I couldn't imagine what in the world she was doing. I asked McLain. He said that somewhere she had picked up the notion to knock, to chase out any evil spirits that were in the house before she entered."

  I gasped. How could she have misunderstood me so? I certainly had no wish to be fostering false ideas about the spirit world. I explained it all to Wynn and he smiled at my dilemma. I was horrified.

  The next time Anna came to see me, I informed her that I had been wrong, that it wasn't necessary to knock after all. She could enter at any time and call as she had always done.

  Anna nodded impassively, but I was sure she was wondering about those crazy white people who couldn't make up their minds! From then on I never knew for sure if I had company until I had checked over both shoulders, and I made a habit of doing that frequently.

  NINETEEN

  ~rien dj'-

  "Did you know that Ian McLain's sister lives here?" Wynn asked one morning at the breakfast table.

  I looked up in astonishment. I certainly didn't know that. I wondered where she had been hiding. Then I checked myself-that wasn't fair. I hadn't been to the settlement more than two or three times myself.

  "No," I said now. "Have you seen her?"

  "Just at a distance."

  "What's she like?"

  "She's rather tall, like Ian. Not broad though. She walks very erect and briskly-that's all I know. All I saw was her retreating back."

  "Where does she live?" I asked next, thinking eagerly about visiting her.

  "I think she has one of the rooms at the back of the store, but I'm not sure even about that."

  Well, I would find out. When I tracked her down, I would invite her for tea. Perhaps some morning. The Indian ladies still came often in the afternoon.

  I switched my thoughts back to Wynn. "Have you heard her name?"

  "She's a Miss McLain. I don't know her given name."

  "She's never married? Is she quite a bit younger than her brother?"

  "I don't know that, but I wouldn't expect so."

  Wynn rose from the table and reached for his stetson. The poor thing still had the telltale wagon-wheel marks.

  "I won't be home until late tonight," he said. "I have a lot of ground to cover today."

  I dreaded having him gone from morning to dusk. It made the day so long. I said nothing but stepped over to him and put my arms around his neck for my goodbye kiss. "Be careful," I whispered. "Come home safely."

  He held me for some minutes before he gently put me from him; and then he was gone, walking out our door and down the footpath in long, even strides.

  I watched him until he had disappeared. With a sigh I turned and began clearing the table. Then I remembered Miss McLain.

  So there was another white woman in the settlement! I couldn't wait to meet her. I wondered what she would be like. She would be older than I, certainly. Perhaps even twice my age. Had she been raised in the North? Or had she come up from the city, like I had?

  I needed a few items from the store anyway, so I would just take a walk after I had done the morning household chores and see what I could find out.

  I wasn't too eager to walk into the village. I didn't quite trust some of the dogs with their snapping teeth and snarling jaws. I was fine if they were kept tied; but the trappers and their families were sometimes a little careless about that, being so used to the dogs themselves. I had seen some of the Indian women carrying a heavy, thick stick as they walked through the village. When I asked Wynn about it, he nonchalantly remarked that it was needed against the dogs.

  This morning, I was so enthused about meeting the white woman that I decided to even dare the dogs. As soon as I had finished up the dishes, tidied up the two rooms that composed our home, and swept the step, I freshened myself and started for the store. This time I had a respectably long list of needed items.

  Fortunately, the dogs did not give me too much cause for concern. The more ferocious ones were all securely tied. Children played in the dirt of the roadway. Since we were now into September, I was very conscious-as a schoolteacher-that they really should have been in school. Again I longed to start some classes, but I realized I had none of the words of their dialect-well, just "nuisance"-and they had only a few of mine.

  Mr. McLain was busy waiting on some Indian women. One of them was Mrs. Sam. I greeted her as an old friend, but we were still unable to say more than hello to one another.

  I purchased my items, even adding a couple of things I hadn't thought about but spotted on the stacked shelves. Mr. McLain listed the items under our account, and I carefully itemized each one in my little book to give Wynn an accurate account for his records.

  "Care for some coffee?" offered Mr. McLain in a neighborly fashion, jerking his thumb at the pot which ever stood ready on the back of his big airtight heater. A stack of cups was scattered around on a nearby stand. Some of them were clean, but most of them were dirty, having been used by former customers that morning. At first reluctant, I changed my mind.

  "A cup of coffee would be nice," I said and walked over to the stove to help myself. I still wanted a chance to talk some with Mr. McLain, and a cup of coffee might prolong my stay enough to be able to do so.

  "My husband was telling me that you have a sister living here," I ventured, after taking a deep breath. To make the statement seem less important, I then took a swallow of coffee. It was awful. It was so weak it hardly tasted like coffee at all-and so stale that what little flavor was there was almost completely eclipsed. It was hot though-I had to give Mr. McLain credit for that. I burned my tongue.

  Mr. McLain kept figuring. Finally he lifted his head. "Katherine. Yeah, she lives here. Has lived here now for almost twenty years."

  I wasn't sure what to say next. Katherine was such a pretty name. I tried to visualize the lady to whom it belonged.

  "Where was she from, before that?" I asked rather timidly. Maybe the answer would tell me something about her.

  "From St. John."

  "St. John? My, she has come a long way from home, hasn't she?"

  "Guess you could say that," agreed McLain. "She was a schoolmaim back there."

  "Really?"

  Already I was warming up to this unknown lady. She had been a schoolteacher, educated, cultivated. I was confident we would have much in common.

  "I was a schoolteacher, too," I went on. "I'd love to meet your sister. I'm sure we'd have much to talk about."

  McLain looked at me in a strange, quizzical way. He didn't answer for many moments and then he said simply, "Yeah," very abruptly and curtly.

  I waited, hoping to discover how I could go about making the acquaintance of this woman. Mr. McLain said nothing.

  Finally I ventured, "Is she-does she live around here?"

  It was a stupid question. "Around here" was the only place there was to live-that is, if she was considered a part of this settlement.

  "Out back," said McLain shortly. "She has the room with the left door."

  I stammered on, "Do you-do you suppose she would mind if I called?"

  McLain looked at me for what seemed like a long time and then jerked his big head at the door. "I don't know why she'd mind. Go ahead. Leave your things right here 'til you're ready to go off home."

  I thanked him and went out the door and around to the back of the building to look for the door on the left.

  Mrs. McLain was in the backyard hanging out some laundry. I felt embarrassed. What if she saw me? But, then, what did it matter? She had her back to me, anyway, as she sang softly to herself.

  I rapped gently. There was no response. I knocked louder. Still no response. I hesitated. Clearly Miss McLain was not in. I decided to try one more time. To this knock there was a loud call of "Come," and I opened the door timidly and went in.

  The room was dark, so it took me a few minutes to get accustomed to the lack of light and locate the room's occupant.

  She was seated in a corner, her hand
s idly folded in her lap, staring at the blank wall in front of her. I wondered if she might be ill and was about to excuse myself and depart for a more convenient time, but she spoke. "You're the lawman's wife."

  Her voice was hard and raspy.

  "Yes," I almost whispered, wondering if her statement was recognition or condemnation.

  "What do you want?"

  "Well, I-I just-heard that-that a white woman lived here, and I wanted to meet you."

  "White woman?" The words were full of contempt. "This is no place for a white woman. One might as well realize that anyone who lives here is neither white nor a woman."

  I couldn't believe the words, and I certainly could not understand the meaning behind them. I turned and would have gone, but she stopped me.

  "Where are you from?" she demanded.

  "Calgary. I was a schoolteacher near Lacombe before coming here. I was born and raised in Toronto."

  "Toronto? Nothing wrong with Toronto. Why'd you come here?"

  "Well, I-I-married a member of the Royal North West Police. I-"

  She turned from me and spit with contempt into the corner.

  When she turned back, her eyes sparked fire. "That's the poorest reason that I ever heard for coming to this god-forsaken country," she said. "Some people come because they have to. My brother came for the money. Nothing else, just the money. Buried his first wife here, and still he stayed. But you-"

  She did not finish her sentence but left me to know that I had done something incredibly wrong or stupid, perhaps both.

  I felt condemned. I also felt challenged. Suddenly I drew myself up to my full five feet, three inches. "Why did you come here?" I asked her.

  Again her eyes flashed. I was afraid for a moment that she might throw something at me, her anger was so evident. But she would have needed to leave her chair in order to do that-she had nothing near at hand.

  "I came," she said deliberately, hissing out each word, "I came because there was nothing else that I could do-nowhere else where I could go. That's why I came."