by Janette Oke
I watched the fire closely. If Wynn returned-no, ' when Wynn returned-he would be chilled and would need the warmth.
I dozed off now and then; each time I awakened, I strained to hear footsteps approaching the cabin. They did not come. Toward morning I finally gave in and fell asleep.
I awoke to find the cabin fairly shaking with the wind. The fire was nearly out, and I quickly went for more fuel to build it up. The wind seemed to scream through every crack and crevice of our little home. The temperature dropped further and the snow swirled all around the cabin. Even Kip seemed to be uneasy.
All day I kept the fires burning. I knew I would soon be drawing on the supply from outside. I wondered about the Indian families. They weren't as well stocked for wood as I had been. Surely by now they would have exhausted their supplies. I wished there was some way of bringing them to the warmth and protection of our cabin. With my fingers, I scratched a spot in the frost on the window and looked out. I could not see the buildings of the settlement. I could not even see the birch tree that grew about fifteen feet from the door. All I could see was angry, swirling snow.
I tried to drink a cup of tea, but my hands shook when I lifted the cup to my mouth. I was on the verge of tears, but I knew that tears would do no good.
I fed the fire, I prayed, I walked the floor, I prayed, I read my Bible, I prayed; and somehow this even longer second day of storm passed by, hour by hour.
Another night, and still Wynn had not come. Again I did not go to bed. Kip whined uneasily and pressed his nose against my hand. I stroked his rich, fluffy fur and spoke to him in caressing tones, but I could not keep my tears from falling as I did so.
Somehow we made it through another night. We awoke to another day of snow and wind. I thought I couldn't stand it any longer. The wind was driving me mad with its incessant howling. I clung to my Bible and prayed until I felt utterly exhausted. Mid-morning, after reading, weeping, and praying for what seemed like hours, I fell asleep. The long days and sleepless nights had taken their toll, and my body demanded some rest even if my mind fought against it.
When I awoke, I could scarcely believe my eyes. Sunshine! The wind had stopped. The snow was no longer falling. The storm had passed. I wanted to shout; I wanted to run. I wanted to break out of my confining cabin and find human companionship. How had they all fared through the storm? And I wondered about Wynn. Now that the storm was over, he would soon be home. I must have a hot meal ready for him.
It was then that I realized the fires were no longer burning. I must get them started again quickly. I had only a few more pieces of wood that I had brought in from outside, but there was plenty more by the door. I rushed to get some. But I could not budge the door. I pushed again, not understanding; but it would not give. The .snow! It had drifted us in. I tried again. Surely we wouldn't be shut in here for long. Surely, with enough strength, I could get it open. I tried again and again, but the door would not move.
I let the fire in the kitchen stove go out and just kept the fireplace burning in order to conserve the little fuel I had. Wynn would soon be here. Surely the fuel would last until then. When he came, he would dig us out and all would be well again.
But the day wore on and Wynn did not come.
I walked to my window and scratched a spot to look down at the settlement. I could see smoke rising from cabins. There was stirring about as people and dogs moved among the buildings. I tried to wave, but I knew that was foolish. There was no way anyone could detect a hand waving in my small, frosted window. I put the last stick of wood on my fire and waited again. Surely Wynn will soon be here, I told Kip silently.
The fire burned out. I wrapped myself in blankets and huddled on the cot. Even that was cold. I began to fear for my hands and feet. I picked up the heavy fur rug from the floor and wrapped myself in that, too. It was bulky, but it did offer some protection. Kip whined to go out, but there was no way I could let him. I thought of trying to push him through the window, hoping that he might run down to the settlement and attract someone's attention concerning my plight. But the window was too small for Kip's nearly full-sized body.
Night was coming again. I bundled myself up as best I could and tried to go to sleep. I fell asleep praying.
I vaguely remember stirring once or twice during the night and feeling terribly cold. In my benumbed state, I couldn't sort out the reason for the cold. Kip stirred, too, and I pulled the blankets more tightly around myself and dozed off again, Kipp curled up on my feet. He felt heavy, but I did not make him move.
"Hallo. Hallo in there." A voice finally brought me to consciousness. I struggled out of my blanket covering and hurried to the door. It still would not open. "I can't open the door," I called as loudly as I could. I heard shovels then. Someone was digging us out. It was McLain and a couple of the Indian men. I was glad to see them, but I was disappointed that Wynn wasn't with them. When the door was finally cleared enough for them to enter the house, my first question was, "Have you heard from my husband?"
McLain paused for a moment and looked around. "Have you heard from Wynn?" I asked again.
"No, not yet, ma'am; but he'll be all right."
I took what comfort I could from his words. I wondered if McLain knew what he was talking about or if he was simply trying to put my mind at ease.
"How are you?" he asked me.
"I'm fine-I think," I answered, trying my arms and legs to make sure they still moved properly. "I was never so glad to see anyone in my life! Thank you."
"How long have you been without heat?"
"Just overnight."
"That's too long," the big man said, reaching for my hand. "How are your fingers?"
"Fine."
"Your feet?"
"Okay.11
"Let's see them."
I started to protest, but he would have none of it. "Let's see your feet, Mrs. Delaney."
I went to my bedroom to remove my long stockings and padded out again in my bare feet. The cabin floor was ice cold. Mr. McLain sat me in a chair and looked at each foot in turn.
"You're a mighty lucky lady," he said at last. "I don't know how you kept them from freezing."
"Kip slept on them," I said, suddenly remembering.
"What?"
"Kip. My dog. He slept on them. I remember waking up in the night and I could feel the heaviness from his body on my feet."
"Well, I'll be," Mr. McLain said, and then he began to laugh. "Well, boy," he said, running a hand through Kip's fine fur, "I guess you're more'n just pretty."
One of the Indian men had been working on a fire in the fireplace. It was burning briskly now.
"We've gotta thaw this here place out," said McLain and crossed to the kitchen stove. "This here water in the pail is frozen solid."
It was. So was the basin, and so was, I discovered to my dismay, my china teapot. It had split right down the side from the force of the freezing tea. All of those days of enjoying tea with friends were behind me. I wanted to sit right down and cry, but the men were bustling all about, and I didn't want them to see my hurt. Besides, I was still worried about Wynn.
"Better get your feet dressed again," said Mr. McLain, and I realized I was still puttering about in my bare feet.
I obeyed, slipping into my nice warm moccasins and then I went to my kitchen to see what other damage had been done. A few tins of food were split from frost as well. The pail was okay. I guess the dipper sitting in it had given the ice an upward, rather than outward, thrust. The kettle I wasn't sure about. I would have to wait until it thawed before I would know if it would still hold water without leaking.
The basin was okay, too. It had slanted sides and the ice just seemed to move up them. There really hadn't been too much damage. And, thankfully, I still had all my fingers and toes.
"We didn't see any smoke from your chimney this morning. Gave us quite a scare," Mr. McLain was saying.
"I was scared, too," I admitted. "I didn't know when someone might come."
"Was anyone-?" I started to ask if any lives had been taken by the storm, but I couldn't finish the question. I was half-sick with worry about Wynn.
Mr. McLain surmised the question and hesitated for a moment, then answered slowly.
"We lost a few-mostly older ones. A little girl died, too. She was always sickly, and this cold was just too much for her. It's been hard on Nimmie. The girl was one of her special pets."
Poor Nimmie.
The fires were burning brightly now, and the room was losing some of its chill. It would be some time until it was really warm again. The two Indian men left. Mr. McLain brought in a good supply of wood from beside the door, and then he, too, turned to go.
"You should be just fine now," he assured me. "We'll keep a better lookout from now on. I don't think it's gonna blow tonight. Sky looks clear."
"Can I come with you?" I asked quickly. I knew that Nimmie needed my help. I was torn between going to her and waiting in the cabin in case Wynn came home. My conscience finally won over my heart and I reached for my heavy coat.
Kip moved to follow me, but I pushed him back.
"You wait here," I said to him. "I won't be long."
"I don't mind if you bring him, if you like," said Mr. McLain.
"He might get in a fight with a dog in town," I objected.
"He might."
"Well, I wouldn't want him hurt."
"Is that why you used to carry him?"
We had shut the door on the whining Kip and were making our way across the drifts of snow to the settlement.
My breath was blowing out before me in puffy white clouds. I didn't answer McLain; he was walking too briskly for me to maneuver my snowshoes, keep up, and talk all at the same time. I just nodded my head in assent.
"So you planning on shutting him in all the time now?"
I shook my head.
"What will you do then?"
"I'll walk him out there," I said, waving my arm at the vast emptiness in the opposite direction of the village.
"You won't be able to keep him away from dogs forever, you know."
I had thought about that.
"Appears to me," said the husky man, "that Kip would likely hold his own pretty good in a fight. You've been feeding him well, and he has several pounds on some of the village dogs that just forage for their food. He's had good exercise, so he's developed strong bones and muscles. He's right smart. I think he'd handle himself just fine up against another dog."
I wasn't sure just what the man was trying to tell me.
"Are you saying-?" I began, but Mr. McLain cut in, "I'm saying that, with a child or a dog, you've got to give them a chance to grow up-natural like. You can't pamper them forever, or you spoil them. They can never be what they were meant to be. Kip's a Husky. Sure, they are a scrappy bunch when the need arises. And the need will arise someday. Here in the North, it's bound to. I think you oughta give Kip the chance to prove himself before he gets up against an animal where his life depends upon his fighting skill."
I wanted to argue with this man-to tell him that Kip would never need to fight, that I would keep him away from such circumstances. But I knew Mr. McLain was probably right. Kip was a northern dog. He would have to be prepared to live in the North. I hated the thought, but it was true.
I walked on in silence, slowly turning over in my mind the words of the man beside me. I would have to let Kip grow up. I would have to expose him to the rigors of the village and the fangs of the other dogs.
First, I would talk to Wynn about it and see if he agreed with this man. Oh, if only Wynn would get home! He had been gone for three days. Surely his mission shouldn't have taken him this long.
I blinked back tears that made little icicles on my cheeks and hurried after Mr. McLain. Nimmie needed me.
TWENTY-SIX
4j'kerm af14 ~
The situation at the Hudson's Bay Store was even worse than I had expected. People were crowded in everywhere. Nimmie, busy filling bowls from a steaming pot of thin soup, gave me a welcoming smile. Mrs. Sam was the only one in the group whom I recognized. A few of the children I had seen gathered around Nimmie for her storytelling.
Some of the people had bandages on hands or feet, and I assumed they were being treated for frostbite.
I crossed to Mrs. Sam. "Where's your husband?" I asked her. When she looked at me blankly, I said, "Sam? Where's Sam?"
"Trap," she answered, making a motion like a trap snapping shut with her hands.
"What about the others? Evening Star and Little Deer and Anna? Have you seen them?"
She shook her head.
We stared at each other, recognizing the questions and concern in the other's eyes. I didn't know if their husbands had been out on the traplines or not, not sure how much difference it would make to have them home or away.
Nimmie was relieved to see me. "I'm so glad you're all right," she said when she had finished serving the last bowl. "That was the worst storm I ever remember. I was afraid you wouldn't have enough wood."
Apparently Mr. McLain had not told Nimmie about the smokeless chimney, not wanting to alarm her until he had checked further. "Oh, I had plenty of wood," was all I said now. "What can I do to help?" I asked her.
"Those people over there-they still haven't had anything to eat. I've run out of bowls or cups. I don't know-"
"What about Miss McLain?" I asked. "Would she have some bowls we could use?"
"I hadn't thought of that-"
"I'll go see." I hurried out the door and around to the back of the building.
A call gave me permission to enter. I found Miss McLain in a warm room sitting before her fireplace, her feet on a block of wood to soak up the heat, and her hands folded in her lap.
I stood looking at her in bewilderment, wondering if she was totally oblivious to all that was going on just next door. I finally found my voice.
"I came because of Nimmie," I began. "She has two or three dozen people to feed and she has run out of dishes. We were wondering if we could borrow some."
She didn't even look at me. "Guess you can," she said flatly with no interest.
Her attitude made me cross, but I held my tongue.
I swallowed and then said evenly, "Where are they?"
"Now, where do you suppose dishes would be?" she returned with exaggerated sarcasm.
"May I help myself?" I asked, still in check.
"I don't know who will if you don't," was her biting reply.
I took a deep breath, crossed to her cupboards and began to lift out dishes. I piled them in a dishpan sitting on a nearby shelf. When I had all I could find, I turned to go.
"Just make sure they're boiled when you're done with them," stated Miss McLain, her eyes not leaving the fire.
I swung around to face her. "Do you realize," I flung at her, "there are people just beyond that wall who are fighting for their lives? Do you know that some of them may well lose their fingers or their toes? Do you know that Nimmie has been up half the night taking care of them? And here you sit, all-all bundled up in your great self-pitythinking only about yourself and your lost love! Well, do you want to know what I think? I think you were well rid of the man. If he thought no more of you than to-to desert you because of a whining, accusing sister, then he wasn't much of a man.
"And do you know what else I think?" I was pretty sure Miss McLain wasn't one bit interested in what I thought, but I went on anyway. "I think that if after twenty years, you are still sitting by your fire and tending your little hurt while people out there are suffering with cold and hunger, then you're not much of a woman either. And maybe-maybe the doctor's wife was right. Maybe poor little John is better off without you."
I left the room, slamming the door behind me. I was halfway back to the store before what I had just done fully hit me. I bit my lip and th
e tears started to flow. I had been praying so diligently for this woman. I had been trying so hard to show her real love and compassion. Nimmie had been trying to break down the barriers for so many years-and I had just wiped out any faint possibility of progress in a moment of anger. I would have to apologize. I didn't expect her to accept my apology. I would never be able to repair the damage I had done.
"Oh, God, forgive me," I wailed in remorse. "I should never have said that."
The apology would have to wait. Nimmie needed me and needed me now.
We worked all forenoon. The people were fed and looked after to the best of our ability. Mr. McLain and some of the men made an inspection tour to all the village houses. It was even worse than we had thought. Besides the little girl, the storm had claimed five other victims: an older man and his equally old wife living in a cabin alone at the edge of the village; a grandmother in the household of our erstwhile driver on the trip to the settlement; and an elderly gentleman who had been very sick before the storm struck. The general opinion was that he would have died regardless because of his weakened condition. Also dead was a middle-aged woman who had attempted to gather more wood and lost her way in the storm. Because of the heavy snow and the cold weather, digging of graves was impossible, so the bodies were all to be bundled up in blankets and tied up in the branches of the trees to await springtime. The Indian people had a special stand of trees which served that purpose-the "burying trees," Mr. McLain called them. But before the bodies could be prepared for the burying trees, they had to be examined by the Royal North West Police and permission given. So they were lined up in a vacant cabin to await Wynn's return.
Caring for the needs of the people in the village helped to some extent to take my mind off Wynn, though I wasn't able to ignore his absence completely. Throughout the day Nimmie and I had our hands full taking care of all those who needed our help. By early afternoon the store was beginning to empty. Many had now gathered fuel for their fires and returned to their own cabins. Those who remained behind needed to be fed again; and so I worked over the stew pot, getting another all-too-scanty meal ready for them.