She plunged her face into the gooey warmth, and the pie tin flipped off the sill and into the cabin.
Leo’s barking got higher and faster. “Stop! Stop! Bad! Bad! Very bad bear!” Bear flung herself onto the cabin floor and ate the entire pie.
She looked around. Bear had never been inside a human den before.
The cabin had so many smells! Her claws clicked across the planks of the floor. She leapt onto a chair and marched over the table, leaving purple paw prints on a newspaper lying there. The headline read, CANADIAN TROOPS MOBILIZE—FIRST WAR SESSION IN CANADA IN A CENTURY.
The War had only just begun.
“What war was it?” interrupted Cole.
“The biggest, most terrible war the world had ever seen: the Great War.”
“Who was it against?” asked Cole.
My mind raced all the way back to my tenth-grade history class, and my favorite teacher explaining all the complicated quarrels that led to the War. I told him, “Britain and Canada and their friends were fighting against Germany and its friends.”
There was a speech I had to memorize. I put on a big voice and bumbled my way through it for Cole.
“In the awful dawn of the Greatest War the World Has Ever Known, in the hour when peril confronts us such as this Empire has not faced for a hundred years, all are agreed: we stand shoulder to shoulder with Britain! Not for love of battle, not for lust of conquest, not for greed of possessions, but for the cause of honor, to uphold liberty, to withstand forces that would convert the world into an armed camp; yea, in the very name of peace, we have entered into this War!”
I only messed up in a few places, I think.
“That’s what the prime minister of Canada said at the session of Parliament they mentioned in the newspaper your Bear just trampled.”
Soon Bear was prowling across the mantel over the hearth, and tickling her nose with a hairbrush, and kicking a tin of tobacco to the ground, where it made a terrible clatter, and chewing up a flavorful shoe. She climbed to a high-up shelf, which came loose from the wall, and all the bottles and jars and containers crashed to the floor, sending new smells into the air. The sunshine streaming through the window was hazy with spilt flour.
Your Bear was just licking up some honey from a shattered clay jar when the door to the cabin flew open.
It was Granma, along with Leo barking madly at her heels. When she saw what Bear had done, she gave a scream and grabbed a broom from behind the door. She came in swinging like the top of a wind-wracked tree.
Around and around she chased your Bear. The cub climbed higher, scrambling across a pair of snowshoes on the wall.
“Big trouble!” Leo barked. “You’re in big, big trouble!”
“I know!” Bear whined, up near the ceiling.
The boy appeared at the door, carrying a bucket. He dropped it, spilling water across the threshold, and turned and ran away.
Granma was on a chair, batting her broom at your Bear, who was dangling by her front paws from a hanging oil lamp. The broom swept her bottom, and she tumbled through the air to land on the bed and bounce onto the floor.
The boy was back, holding a wooden crate. In a firm voice, he said, “Bear!”
Just like that, your Bear sat down on the floor of the cabin.
“Stay there,” said the boy, creeping toward her. She stayed.
And the boy dropped the crate over her head.
The boy had cut a length of rope and looped one end around Bear’s neck. Now she lay at his feet under the table as the family ate supper.
“You saw what she did, the little rat,” Granma was saying. “Can you imagine the havoc she’ll wreak when she’s bigger?”
“She’s not a rat,” the boy said glumly.
“No, she’s a bear!” shouted Granma.
“I promise,” pleaded the boy. “I won’t let her off the rope.”
Your Bear sniffed at the boy’s lap, wishing he’d share a little something.
“She has to go!” said Granma.
The trapper spoke up. “The cub’ll never survive by herself in the Woods.” His stockinged feet were planted flat on the floor.
“She’s got a nice enough pelt on her,” grumbled Granma.
“No,” the boy said, banging his hands on the table over Bear’s head. “She’s not for fur! She’s not for skinning! I saved her!”
“Watch the way you talk, boy,” said the trapper, with a lift of his heels.
Silence pressed down through the table all around the cub. She rested her head against the boy’s leg.
“Promise me, Granpa,” said the boy. “You won’t let anything happen to her. She’s got no Mama. She deserves a chance.”
Bear could hear the trapper taking a drink.
The boy was trembling. “I lost my Mama. Why didn’t you get rid of me?”
Granma shifted in her chair.
“Enough,” said the trapper in a hoarse voice. “I promise,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll find someone to take her.”
Granma laughed coldly. “Who is going to want a bear?”
“Quiet now,” snapped the trapper. “Finish your food, boy. That foal needs tending to.”
August 23, 1914
Left Winnipeg 7 PM for Valcartier. On train overnight.
“Wait,” said Cole. “What was that?”
“It’s an entry someone made in their diary late that night.”
“Who?”
“You’ll see. Someone your Bear hasn’t met yet.”
At first light, Maggie the mare was hitched to the wagon for the trip into town. Leo, the boy, and the foal were all there to see your Bear off.
While Maggie bent her head to her foal, the boy knelt with Bear in the dirt. “Granpa’s taking you to White River,” he said. “He’s not going to let anything bad happen to you. Right, Granpa?”
The trapper grunted as he climbed atop the front of the wagon.
The boy bowed his head, and Bear rooted around in his dark curls. When the boy lifted his face, she licked his freckles. They were surprisingly wet and salty.
“No matter what,” the boy whispered, his face crumpling, “you’ll always be my Bear.”
He lifted the cub up to take her place beside the trapper and pulled the foal away from her mother.
“Sit down now, little bear,” Maggie the mare gestured with her tail. “You don’t want to fall off.”
The boy and Leo chased after them, waving and barking. “Bye-bye, Bear! Bye! Bye-bye, bye!”
And that’s how your Bear left the Woods.
After a time, the trees turned to fields. The wagon passed one gray barn, then another, where a trio of cows lifted their heads.
She raised her mouth and they mooed at her, which made her very happy.
The houses grew closer together. Soon Maggie was pulling the wagon down a wide, dusty street under a steeple’s shadow.
The man brought Maggie and the wagon to a stop in front of a low-slung building with a long sign over the door: HUDSON’S BAY COMPANY. He dragged the cub inside by her leash.
“I feel like I know that place,” Cole interrupted.
“You do,” I told him. “The Bay is where we bought your sister’s striped pajamas. Nana Laureen got your white blanket with the green, red, yellow, and blue stripes from there. They used to have trading posts all over North America. That’s how the department store started.”
Inside the trading post, barrels of strange scents dotted the floor like stumps. Every wall was covered with shelves, and every shelf was full: dishes, soap, blankets, tools.
Bear eyed a tall pile of beaver furs in the corner.
“Surprised to see you here on a Monday, friend!” said a squat, jolly man with a furry face behind the counter. “You in town to see the boys headed off to fight at the station?”
The trapper shook his head and told him why he’d come.
“The mama’s fur sold for a pretty penny, I’ll tell you that,” said the man. He stood on his toe
s and leaned over the counter so he could get a good look at the cub. “Why, she’s barely big enough to be an outhouse rug!”
Bear looked up at the trapper. “Don’t look at me like that,” the trapper said.
The clerk held up both hands. “I’m not judging, friend! How much you want for her?”
Bear rubbed her side against the trapper’s leg, and his bushy white eyebrows rose and fell. He tugged his beard. “I promised,” he grumbled to himself. “I did.”
“And a promise is a promise!” said the clerk agreeably. “So how much?”
“Never you mind,” the trapper sighed. “I’ll see you Thursday as usual.”
And without another word, he pulled your Bear back outside.
Whenever someone passed them on the street, the trapper said, “Cub for sale,” in a half-hearted way.
A little girl stopped to play, but she was carried away crying because her mother was not about to buy her a bear.
Eventually, the trapper wandered to the train station, where he dropped with a groan onto a bench on the platform. Bear knew from the way he plucked at his beard that he did not know what he was going to do.
She heard the chugging before he did, and when she saw the tiny clouds rising in the distance, she began to strain against her rope. She was finally going to learn what made the fast white puffs!
As the locomotive came into view, Bear remembered Mama lifting her head from their drying rock: “It’s too far away to harm us.” But now here it came, barreling down, a Noisy Black Monster. By the time it pulled into the station with a shuddering sigh, Bear was hiding under the bench, rustling like a leaf.
Men poured from the train, flooding the platform with their loud voices and their big boots.
One pair of boots slowed as they went by, turned, and came back.
A soldier crouched down, peering at your Bear under the bench. He held out his hand.
He had pale, clear eyes and a dimple in his chin. On his wrist was a watch that went tock… tock… tock in the way of orderly raindrops, and he wore a dark green uniform buttoned high up over his necktie. He had a calming smell about him.
“Who do we have here?” he asked.
“Black bear,” said the trapper. “I trapped the mama, and now I’m selling the cub.”
The soldier felt your Bear’s neck with his fingertips. He pulled apart her lips and looked at her teeth, and then he lifted her paws and traced their pads gently with his thumb.
“She’s a healthy one.” He gave her a good hard scratch at the base of her neck, which felt so nice her eyes crossed and her tongue dangled from her mouth.
“You want her?” said the trapper.
The soldier stopped scratching and got to his feet. “Sorry. The army’s no place for a bear.”
“I was in the army,” the trapper said quickly. “Fought in the Boer War. That wasn’t as big as this War’s shaping up to be. Where are you from, Captain?”
“I’m just a Lieutenant. Lieutenant Harry Colebourn. From Winnipeg.”
The trapper whistled. “Long way from here.”
“Yes, sir. And we have only five thousand miles more to go. Well…,” Harry said, looking down at your Bear. She stared back up into his pale, clear eyes, and something passed between them.
Harry faltered for a moment, as if distracted by a lightning flash on a sunny day. He blinked. “I hope you find a good home for her,” he said slowly.
Then he walked away.
Your Bear lay her head on her paws. She followed Harry’s scent all the way down the platform, losing him, then picking him up again.
He seemed to be pacing back and forth.
Hold on—he was coming back, walking quickly.
Bear got to her feet.
“I’ll give you twenty dollars for the Bear,” Harry said breathlessly.
The trapper sputtered with surprise.
“That’s my final offer!” Harry held out the bills, and the trapper gave him Bear’s leash plus a hearty handshake in return.
“How much was twenty dollars back then?” Cole asked.
“A lot. Almost five hundred dollars.”
“Was Harry rich?”
“Far from it.”
“Why did he do it?”
“Why do you think he did it?”
“I think he wanted to save her,” said Cole, balancing his Bear on his knee.
“God save the King!” the trapper called after them.
“God save the King!” Harry called back and looked down at your Bear, who was now bouncing along the platform beside him. “And we will save each other.”
August 24, 1914
Left Pt. Arthur 7 AM. On train all day. Bought Bear $20.
“Boys,” said Harry. “Meet our mascot.”
A train car full of soldiers leaned in, looking down the aisle at your Bear.
A burly one with graying fur slapped Harry on the shoulder with his cap. “The Colonel isn’t going to like this.”
“This is the Veterinary Corps,” said Harry. “Taking care of animals is our duty.”
“I think that only means horses,” said one with a playful smirk, pushing back his cap to reveal a swoop of slick dark fur.
The boys hushed all at once. A towering man with small eyes, hanging cheeks, and an enormous chin barged down the aisle. Harry saluted.
“Lieutenant!” barked the Colonel.
“Colonel Currie, sir!” said Harry.
The silence that followed was broken by a sudden lurch. The station began to slide across the windows.
“We are on a journey of thousands of miles,” the Colonel’s voice boomed at Harry, “heading into the thick of battle, and you propose to bring this Most Dangerous Creature?”
Your Bear looked up at the Colonel, who was looking down his nose at her, and she reared up with her mouth open to say hello. When the Colonel raised his hand to strike her, Harry yanked her down by her leash.
“She’s an orphan, sir,” Harry said, staring straight ahead.
The Colonel narrowed his eyes. “I’m not concerned with orphans, Lieutenant. I’m concerned with winning this War.” He raised a thick gloved finger to Harry’s nose. “If I have any notion that this pet of yours is any trouble at all, I shall do away with it myself. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It belongs in the stable car,” snapped the Colonel, continuing down the aisle.
“Yes, sir!”
Once the Colonel was gone, the boys all let out their breaths.
“I told you he wouldn’t be happy,” said the burly one.
Harry knelt down to massage your Bear’s neck where he had wrenched it with the leash.
Someone asked, “What’s its name?”
“It’s a she,” Harry explained. “I’m naming her Winnipeg, so we’ll never be far from home. Winnie, for short.”
Not until Winnie started chewing Harry’s bootlace did they both realize how hungry she was. She’d had nothing to eat since the dish of cold porridge the trapper’s grandson had fed her before dawn.
“What do bears eat?” wondered the boys.
“They’re omnivores,” Harry said. “She’ll eat most anything.”
“I have some vegetables from my sister’s garden,” the burly one said.
“That’s very generous of you, Dixon,” said Harry.
Dixon crouched before the cub with a brown paper sack. “How would you like a taste of Winnipeg, Winnipeg?” He fed her a knobby carrot and some fat green beans and a sunrise-colored tomato, which sprayed seeds onto his stiff green jacket when Winnie crushed it in her teeth.
He turned the paper sack upside down. “That’s the last of food from home,” said Dixon wistfully. “It’s all rations from here on out.”
Winnie puckered her lips. She was still hungry.
The soldier with the oiled fur and the sly smile came into the aisle. He held up something she knew: an egg.
Winnie reached for it, but he snatched it away. He passed one h
and over the other, and now a second egg was there.
Winnie’s eyes widened.
He waved his hand over the pair, and now there were three in his palm. Winnie blinked. He began to juggle the three eggs as Winnie’s eyes chased them round. Soon she was balancing on her hind legs, swatting the air with her paws.
“Stop teasing her, Brodie,” said Dixon.
“She likes it!” said Brodie, still juggling in the aisle as Winnie danced excitedly before him.
“Brodie,” Harry warned.
Brodie caught the eggs in one hand. “Unlike some of you sore spots,” he said with a wink, “this bear can take a yolk.” And he fed her an egg at last.
Winnie was surprised to find the egg firm inside instead of bursting with ooze that ran down her chin.
This was her first hard-boiled egg.
She was just begging Brodie for another one when a stone-faced officer with a furry upper lip came and tapped Harry on the shoulder. “You’d better get her to the stable car before the Colonel comes back, Lieutenant,” he said.
Brodie rolled his eyes. “Have you no heart, Edgett?” he pleaded. “We can’t send Winnie to bed without dessert.”
Dixon turned to Harry. “Do you think she’d like condensed milk?”
“I bet she would,” said Harry.
“Not from our limited supplies, she won’t,” Edgett cut in.
A private a few seats away called, “Winnie can have the milk left over from my tea.”
“Mine too,” said another.
Dixon found a baby’s bottle used for nursing foals and passed it around to collect milk donations.
“I’ll take her in just a minute, Lieutenant,” Harry told Edgett, scooping Winnie onto his lap.
He held the bottle to her lips, and the sweetness of the condensed milk swept your Bear away. As Harry fed her, Winnie’s eyes drooped, and she began to hum.
Winnie's Great War Page 3