by Janette Oke
I nodded slowly. I did understand and I agreed.
"I have been a sinner for a long time. I just did not know about it. Oh, I knew that I had an unhappiness, a pain in my heart that twisted at times and brought me grief and shame, but I didn't know why or what it was.
"The pain is gone now. Even after the fire, I have peace. If God had been punishing me, then I wouldn't feel Him with inc as I do now, as I did as I watched the fire burn away everything that had ever been mine. No, He was not punishing; but perhaps He is putting me through the testing ritual to see if I am going to be strong."
I nodded again. It seemed that Nimmie had it all sorted out. Tears filled my eyes. She was strong, our Nimmie.
"Ian. and I talked long last night," Nimmie paused. "We are going to go away.
My mouth opened to protest and I reached a hand for her arm.
"We will be back," Nimmie informed me quickly. "We will be back as soon as the crows are back. We will build the trading post again as soon as wood can be hauled from the forest. And we will bring supplies back to the people."
Relieved to hear that they would be back, I still didn't understand why they felt they should go.
"Ian has much to do, to make plans for the new building," Nimmie explained. "He has to arrange for supplies to be shipped in as soon as the rivers are free of ice. We will be very busy. The time will go quickly. Ian is even going to show me the big cities that I have read about." Nimmie's face took on a glow. For a moment, I wished I could go with her; and then I quickly thought of Wynn, and any desire to leave Beaver River left me.
"Besides," said Nimmie matter-of-factly, "the supplies are loweven the supplies in your home. If we go soon, that will mean less people to feed and more life for the village."
"What about Katherine?"
"Ian is going to ask her what she wishes. We are sure that she will go with us."
There just seemed to be one question left to ask. "When will you go?"
"Tomorrow. Tomorrow as soon as the sun is in the sky."
Katherine did choose to go with them. They had very little to take. Mr. McLain still had his good team of sled dogs and his sled. They had no clothing to pack and no provisions except what they were given. Wynn made sure they had a good rifle and some shells. Villagers came shyly forward as the McLains prepared for travel and offered love gifts of food or clothing or traps. I knew that the people desperately needed the things they were giving away, yet so did the McLains. The gifts were not refused because it would have caused offense to the givers. They were given in love, and they were accepted in love.
At last the sled was loaded, the team harnessed, and the travelers were ready for the trail.
At the last minute, Nimmie drew me aside. I wasn't sure I would be able to talk to her without weeping.
"I have a wonderful secret," she said, her eyes shining, "and I wanted to share it with you before leaving.
"I am going to have a baby. Just think-after ten years of marriage, I am going to have a baby!"
"Oh, Nimmie," was all I could say, and I took her in my arms and cried all over her fur parka.
I was the only one in tears, for the Indian people expressed themselves in other ways. I knew their hearts were heavy, too. It was hard to see our friends go. It was hard to turn them over to the elements and the winter. I prayed that they would arrive safely. If anyone knew how to handle the rigors of the trail, it was the McLains. Nimmie had come from the forest, and Mr. McLain himself had spent many years working a trapline before becoming manager of the store. They would know what to do in all circumstances.
It would be hard for Katherine. She had not trained herself for the ways of the North. The trip would be long and difficult and very taxing. I prayed that God would help her.
And Nimmie. The little mother-to-be. The excited little mother. I prayed with all of my heart that things would go well for her and God would protect her unborn child.
I stood and watched them disappear over the whiteness of the hill outside our settlement, a final wave to us, our last glimpse of them. And then I placed a hand on Kip's furry head and started back to the cabin, the tears blurring my vision. I knew Wynn was watching me, making sure I would be all right.
THIRTY-ONE
,~I 79)teji dye
"Isn't there any way I can help?" I asked Wynn.
He had been working almost day and night ever since the fire in order to make sure the settlement had food. I had been doing nothing-except ache for Nimmie.
"There is, Elizabeth. A very important way," Wynn informed me. "I would like you to keep a sharp eye on all the families for sickness. I think we'll pull through this winter just fine if we don't run into some kind of epidemic. The only way I see to prevent that from happening is to detect early anyone with symptoms and try to isolate them from the rest."
"So what do you want me to do?" I questioned. I certainly wasn't a nurse, nor did I have medical knowledge of any kind.
"Just visit the homes. Go around as much as you find the time to do so. Keep your eyes and ears open for any coughs or fevers or symptoms of any kind. Note the cabin and I will take it from there."
That didn't sound too difficult.
"How is it going, Wynn? I mean really?" I asked him.
He looked at me, and I knew I was going to get an honest answer. "It isn't good. We are managing so far to keep food in the cabins, but the real value of a little meat boiled with a few roots leaves much to be desired. Still, we will make it if we can just keep sickness away. Everyone is cooperating well, so far. If we can keep up the morale and keep them from giving up, we'll be all right."
"Surely it wont be much longer," I said hopefully.
"Until the snow goes-no. Maybe not. But, when the snow goes, the rest of the men will be back. True, that will be more men to hunt and fish, but it will also be more mouths to feed. And it will still be several weeks after that before the forests and fields start to bear fruit."
Wynn drew me close and held me for several minutes before he left to resume his duties of another exhausting, long day.
I went to work on the dishes and cleanup. Since the fire, I no longer threw out tea leaves or coffee grounds after one use. Instead, I dried them and put them in a container to be used again. I saved any leftovers of our food as well, no matter how small the portion. It could be used in some way. Our meals were skimpy enough and were carefully portioned out. Meat had become our main staple as well, with only small servings of any tinned vegetables to complement it. Desserts were now only a dim memory. The nearest we came was to sprinkle a small amount of sugar on an occasional slice of bread. The bread was rationed as well. We allowed ourselves only one slice per day, and sometimes I cut those very sparingly, though I tried to make Wynn's a little thicker than mine-not too much different or he would notice and gently scold me.
I had been so happy for Nimmie when she told me of her coming baby. I had been longing for a baby of our own. Wynn and I had talked about it many times. Each month I had hoped with all my heart that God might decide to bless us; but now I found myself thanking God that I was not carrying a child. Our diet simply was not good enough to be nourishing a coming baby.
I'll wait, God, I prayed now. I'll wait.
As soon as my tasks were completed, I donned my coat and mittens and went out. We were now in April. Surely I wouldn't need heavy clothing much longer.
I visited several of the homes that morning. At each home I had to insist to the hostess, "No tea. No tea," and rub my stomach as though the tea would not agree with me. I did not want them to use any of their meager supply each time I came to call in the days ahead.
Many of these women I knew by name. They had learned to trust me, though they must have been wondering why I had nothing better to do than to wander around the settlement while everybody else was busy working. I kept close watch for anything that looked like potential trouble. At first, there was nothing more than one or two runny noses. I mentally noted them, just in case Wynn would
want to check them out.
In the Arbus cabin, one of the children was coughing, a nasty sounding one that brought fear to my heart. Please, not whooping cough, I prayed silently and told Anna to be sure to keep him in and away from other children until Wynn saw him.
"But he get wood," said Anna. "His job."
"Not today. I will help with wood today. You keep him in by the fire."
Anna was surprised at what I said and the conviction with which I said it, but she did not argue further. I was Mrs. Sergeant and should be listened to.
I went for wood as I had promised. It was not an easy job. The snow was deep and the axes dull. It was hard for me to walk in snowshoes and carry wood on my back. I was not nearly as skilled as the Indian children. I had to make extra trips to get a pile as high as the others, and by the time I was finished, it was getting dark and I knew Wynn would soon be home. I had not made the full rounds of the cabins, but I would finish the rest the next day.
When Wynn returned home, I reported what I had found. "Good work," he said. "I'd better check them out."
"Why don't you wait until after you have eaten?" I suggested, "and I will go with you."
Wynn agreed and we ate our simple meal.
We walked over the crunching snow together in the moonlight, long shadows playing about us. From the cabins surrounding the little clearing, soft light flickered on the billowy banks of snow.
"It's pretty at night, isn't it?" I said to Wynn.
"But not pretty in the daytime?" Wynn prompted.
"Oh, I didn't mean that-not really. It's just-that-well, in the daytime all of the gloom and grime of the tragedy shows up, too. Some days," I went on, "I wish it would snow ten feet just to bury that terrible reminder heaped up there in the village."
"It's not a pretty sight, is it? But I thought you were very anxious for the snow to go."
"I am. I don't really mind the snow itself-it is pretty and I have enjoyed it-walking in it, looking at it. It's the wind I hate. I can't stand the wind. It just sends chills all through me. It seems so-sovengeful somehow. I hate it!"
Wynn reached over to take my hand and pull me up against him as we continued to walk.
"I wish you could learn to appreciate the wind, Elizabeth. God made the wind, too. It has many purposes and it is part of our world. You will never be really at peace here until you have made friends with the wind. Try to understand it-to find beauty in it."
He pulled me to a stop. "Look, over there. See that snowbank? Notice the way the top peaks and drops over in a curve-the velvet softness of the purple shadow created by the glow of the moon. See how beautiful it is."
Wynn was right.
He continued to point out other wind sculptures around the clearing. I laughed.
"All right," I assured him. "I will try to find beauty in the wind."
"Its greatest beauty is its song," Wynn continued. "I still haven't had the opportunity to take you out camping under the stars, but when spring comes we'll do that. We'll camp at a spot where we can lie at night and hear the windsong in the spruce trees. It's a delightful sound."
"I'll remember that promise," I told Wynn.
We were at the first cabin. Wynn looked carefully at the throat of the child and felt for fever. There didn't seem to be any cause for alarm here, but he did give the mother a little bit of medication, telling her to give one spoonful every morning. She nodded in agreement and we went on to the next cabin.
Again we found no cause for concern. Wynn didn't even leave medicine with the family. He told me to keep an eye on the child during the next few days.
When we reached the third cabin, we could hear the coughing even before we got to the door. Wynn stopped and listened carefully.
"You're right," he said. "I don't like the sound of that at all." Whooping cough was one of the dreaded killers of the North.
"Do we have medication?" I asked Wynn, counting on the worst.
"Not nearly enough if it turns out to be whooping cough," he said quietly.
We went in then and Wynn did a thorough examination of the throat, chest, and ears of the child, with the little equipment he had.
"How long has he been coughing?" he asked Anna.
"Two," she said.
"His cough is bad, Anna. I want you to keep him in. And keep the other children away from him if you can. Wash any of his dishes in hot, hot water. Let them sit in the water and steam. Give him this medicine-once when the sun comes up, once when it is high in the sky, and once when the sun goes down. Yoµ understand?"
"Understand," said Anna.
Wynn repeated all his directions in her native tongue to be sure Anna had fully understood.
"Understand," she said again.
"Mrs. Delaney will be back tomorrow to see how he is feeling."
"Beth come," she said with satisfaction. I felt a warm glow to hear her use my given name.
"Is there any way to get more medicine?" I asked Wynn on the way home.
"Not in time. We would have to send someone out and then have him bring it back. By that time half of the town could be infected."
"What will we do?"
"We'll just have to wait, Elizabeth, and hope that we are wrong. Wait-and pray."
THIRTY-TWO
raps
Now that my days were more than full, I had little time for Kip. I knew he needed his exercise, so I was forced to let him out to run on his own. I hated to do it, but he always returned home again before too much time elapsed.
One night he came in with marks on his fluffy long coat. I pulled him close and looked at him. There was a tuft of hair hanging from the corner of his lip. I pulled it out and looked at it, puzzling over what it meant.
"Looks like hes been in a little scrap," Wynn remarked as though it was of no consequence.
"Do you think so?" I asked in alarm, remembering the meanlooking Buck.
"He doesn't look much the worse for it," Wynn responded. "I'm guessing he came out top dog."
I brushed at Kip's coat. I could feel no injuries and he certainly didn't appear to be in any pain. In fact, he looked rather pleased about something.
"What will I do with him?" I asked Wynn.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't have time to take him for his walks, and he can't be shut up in here all day."
"I think he will look after himself just fine."
"But what if he meets Buck? The last time, he submitted to Buck; but, if he's fighting other dogs now, he might try to fight Buck, too."
Wynn grinned. "Someone has to bring that big bully down to size."
"Oh, Wynn," I cried. "This isn't funny. He could he hurt!"
Wynn, more serious then, apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make fun of your concern. You're right. There is the possibility of Kip getting hurt. But it's more probable that he will come out the victor. Kip didn't meet Buck's challenge last time because he knew he wasn't ready. That's a smart dog. If he does decide to take him on, it will be because he thinks he is ready. Now no one knows whether he is or not. We just have to trust Kip's instincts, that's all.
"Kip has a number of advantages over Buck He's a little heavier. He has had better nutrition. He is younger and more agile, and I believe that he's much smarter. If it should come to a fight, I think Kip has a good chance."
Well, a good chance wasnt good enough for me. I wanted to be sure. What I really wanted was for Kip to stay out of the ring completely, but it didn't look like I was going to be able to avoid it much longer.
"You behave yourself," I warned Kip, shaking my finger at him, "or I'll-I'll tie you up."
In making the rounds of the cabins, I found a few more sniffles but no more bad coughs. Annas small boy was not getting any worse. In fact, the medicine seemed to be working. His cough was gradually getting better. Anna beamed. None of the other children had developed the cough. I was sure that she, too, had thought of the dreaded whooping cough-she likely knew the symptoms much better than I.
The sun's rays warmed the air a bit more each day. I found myself frequently pushing back my parka and even unbuttoning my coat. The drifts were getting smaller and the wind did not have the same chill. We were now into the middle of April. Spring must be just around the corner! I exulted.
"How would you like a day off?" Wynn surprised me one morning. I looked up from cutting the thin slices of bread.
"I'd love it. What do you have in mind?"
"I need to make a call on a cabin about two miles from the settlement. I thought that, seeing you have been doing such a good job at being camp nurse, you might like to come along."
"I'd love to!" was my enthusiastic response.
"The snow is getting a little thin in places. We won't be using the sled much more this year." That was good news too.
"When should I be ready?" I asked Wynn.
"In about half an hour."
"I'll be waiting. Can I bring Kip for a run as well?"
"Sure. Bring Kip. Just keep him away from the sled dogs. To them, Kip is a stranger and a threat."
I was sure I wouldn't have any trouble with that. Kip was obedient and heeled whenever he was told to do so.
I hummed as I went about getting ready to go. Its so nice to have this kind of outing! A whole day with Wynn! The sun was shining. Soon our winter would be over and our world would change again. Nimmie would be coming back. The new trading post would be built. Our people would have proper food and supplies again. The world seemed good.
"Thank you, God," I whispered. "Thank you for seeing us through."
Wynn was soon there with the sled. Calling Kip to heel, I went out to join him. It was a wonderful day as promised. Wynn made his call and checked the man who had been reported ill in his cabin. Wynn carried wood and water in and made sure he had the necessary supplies. He gave him medicine to take for a few days and told him he would be back to see him in a couple of days. The man didn't appear to be seriously ill, just down with the flu; so we left him and started our return trip.