Journey to Bliss (Saskatchewan Saga Book #3)

by Ruth Glover

  Pearly was incapable of closing the letter without quoting Scripture. After serious thought, she inscribed:

  Goodby to my fellow labourers, grace be with ewe. Pearly Chapel.

  And though she knew it was a small epistle and not large, she couldn’t refrain from adding:

  See how large a letter I have written to ewe in mine own hand.

  It was the best letter Pearly had ever written. It was her hope that Tierney, having read it, would forward it to Anne, saving her doing it all over again. Once was difficult enough.

  Receiving the letter several weeks later, Tierney laughed and wept, missing Pearly but almost seeing her and hearing her London-street accent. She wasn’t a bit surprised at the news concerning Frank Schmidt; she had suspected as much when Pearly had so happily and blindly climbed into the wagon with him. And knowing Pearly and her prayers, Tierney had no reason to think Pearly was mistaken.

  Pulling an envelope to her, Tierney addressed it to Anne. Before she folded Pearly’s letter again and enclosed it, she turned the paper over and wrote:

  Dearest Annie, Enclosed you will find the first letter from Pearly. You will appreciate it, as I did, for it seems I can almost see her dear, sweet face and hear her happy voice. Work is going well here, as I have written you before. I wish you felt better about your work, but I am glad you are sharing a room now with Fria. I did like her so much when I met her, and it will keep you from being too lonely. Have you heard anything from home? I expect a letter any day now from James. I’ve been here 3 months. Can you believe that? Harvest is over, though we don’t have a large one. Mr. Ketchum’s main crop, he says, is his chickens. The nights are getting very cold here. I understand it could freeze any time. Mr. Ketchum says he may be making one final trip to Saskatoon before winter, and I can come with him. I have a little money now, but don’t have any reason to spend much of it, though I do need some overshoes, Lavinia says. Perhaps I will be seeing you one of these days.

  Lovingly, Tierney

  The following week was a busy one. The weather had indeed turned freezing, and Will Ketchum deemed it high time to butcher his chickens for market. A quick trip to Fielding netted several workers, most of them teenaged boys, some of whom had worked for Will before and knew the ropes of chicken sticking, bleeding, scalding, plucking, and gutting. Besides the chickens themselves, the feathers—or at least the small ones—would be garnered, packed into gunny sacks, and taken to town along with the frozen carcasses and sold for bedding.

  When the job was completed, the chickens stacked in a shed awaiting transporting to the railway, Will announced at the supper table, “Well, girls, either or both of you ready to go to Saskatoon with me?”

  He turned to Tierney. “Actually, the railroad is much nearer to us than Saskatoon. I could get my goods on a train about eighteen miles from here, at Hanover—”

  “That’s where my friend Pearly is! Eighteen miles? Oh—”

  “Yes, but I need to come back with supplies for the winter. And if I take the chickens to Saskatoon, it may be I can sell them locally rather than shipping them back east, saving money and time. I did that last year and I think the same sources will buy again. So sorry about your friend Pearly; maybe you can see her another trip. This time it’ll be Saskatoon. Now, how about it, ladies?”

  Tierney’s hopes soared. It had been a long three months without seeing more than a scattering of people who had stopped by. Twice she and Lavinia had taken the buggy and gone to Fielding for certain limited supplies and for the mail, but ordinarily Will went and they stayed home. She awaited Lavinia’s response, fearing it would be negative on account of her pregnancy, now greatly advanced. There had been indications that all was not well, and Lavinia spent a great deal of time with her feet up, reading anything that was available, sewing some, sleeping a lot, thanking her lucky stars, she said, that Tierney was there to be a comfort and strength to her as well as carry the bulk of the household chores on her shoulders.

  Now Lavinia was positive, though downcast. “I can’t possibly go, Will. I can’t risk jouncing all that distance over the frozen, rutted prairie. But how I wish I could! It would be such a great change. Next year for sure, though how I’ll manage with two children to care for on that long trip, I don’t know. I hope and pray,” she said, looking at Tierney rather anxiously, “that Tierney is still with us. I’d be lost without her, that’s for sure.”

  Lavinia, knowing the dearth of women in the territories, had threatened Will with blacking and bruising if he dared bring bachelors around the place while Tierney was there. Tierney, pledged to Robbie Dunbar now and forever, cared not a fig whether or not they came, to Lavinia’s great relief and Will’s disbelief. How any woman could stay true to a memory with flesh and blood suitors pressing their claim diligently, even feverishly, he couldn’t see.

  “Ye dinna ken Robbie, and ye dinna ken me,” Tierney had declared stoutly when the subject came up, and Will respected her enough to leave it at that.

  Perhaps because of Tierney’s fierce hold on her devotion to someone named Robbie Dunbar, perhaps because she knew and believed in Tierney’s trustworthiness, Lavinia had no hesitation in suggesting that Tierney go with Will to Saskatoon.

  “After all,” she said, “I promised her a trip back to see her friend. If she doesn’t go now, she won’t get out again until spring. She never has had any decent time off. There’s no place to go, after all, and she’s just spent a few hours once in a while in her room, resting and writing letters or something like that, poor dear. Yes, I think you should go, Tierney. I’ll get along fine. There are no chickens to care for this time, and you’ll only be gone for three days. One day going, a day there for business, and another day to return. You can stay with your friend, I’m sure.”

  “Buster?” Will asked. “Would you like him to go?”

  “Not wise,” Lavinia said. “It’s too cold, for one thing, and you wouldn’t know what to do with him the day you hope to transact your business. No; Buster will keep me company and be the man of the house. Right, Buster?”

  Buster, thus appealed to, looked uncertain—whether to go, or stay.

  “And of course,” Lavinia said, “there’ll be a present for such a fine young man. Right, Daddy?”

  And so it was settled. Lavinia worked on her lists; Tierney worked on her clothes.

  “You better take my heavy winter coat,” Lavinia said. “It doesn’t go around me very well now, anyway. I don’t think I’d wear it even if I went some place, which I probably won’t. I’ll just wrap a horse blanket around me in such a case! I’m about as big as one,” she said ruefully.

  But it wasn’t true. If her due date was the first part of December, as she thought, Lavinia was undersized, or so it seemed to Tierney, who had to admit she knew little or nothing about carrying and birthing babies.

  And that worried her too. Who would “officiate” at the birth?

  “We have a midwife in Fielding,” Lavinia had assured her, “and if she can’t make it, Will can take care of me. Can’t you, dear?”

  Will didn’t look much more confident than did Tierney. “Between us,” he said, “we’ll do fine.”

  But Tierney wasn’t so sure. Prairie blizzards were legendary. But babies were born all around the world and in some mighty out-of-the-way places without doctors or midwives, and had, ever since time began. They knew instinctively how to thrust their way into the world.

  And so serious plans were laid for the trip to Saskatoon.

  Early in the morning, before the sun was up—it was coming later and slower now—Tierney climbed into the wagon and onto the wagon seat, wearing Lavinia’s coat and with a horse blanket wrapped around her dangling legs. Even so, it was nippy, and the tip of her nose was turning red before they were out of the yard.

  Lavinia, waving good-bye, looked rather forlorn; but Buster would soon be up for the day and keeping things lively. Then too, their nearest neighbor, though he lived eight miles away, had promised to send his son to
care for the milking of the cows and the watering and feeding of the animals. He would check on Lavinia; probably she would have cocoa ready for him and a snack of some kind before he started his trek back across the prairie.

  “I hope the weather holds clear,” Will said, scanning the wide blue sky rather anxiously. “For Lavinia’s sake, even more than ours, I guess. It can change so quickly and with such drastic results. Fortunately we’ve never been caught out in a true blizzard. But I’ve had to struggle back and forth to the barn through them, once for several days before it let up. It’s no fun, I tell you for sure.”

  Colder than this? More wintry? It hardly seemed possible, thought Tierney, pulling a scarf up around her face, shielding herself from the winds that bent the brittle grass, heavily frosted though it was, to the ground. But as the sun came up the earth warmed a little, the wind abated, and she enjoyed the ride and the rest.

  It had been a busy summer and fall. Will had brought wild plums from a nearby coulee, and these had been made into jam. There were beans and carrots and peas and tomatoes to can. Soon, she was told, Will would butcher one of the yearlings that had grown fat on the abundant grasses amid which it had been tethered, and she and Lavinia would put much of it up in jars for use next summer when it was impossible to keep meat from spoiling.

  Tierney was tired of chickens! They were all tired of chickens! “Bring home a case of canned salmon, please!” Lavinia had implored as she prepared her massive list of needed supplies. With the long winter shutting them in, what they brought home now would probably have to do them until spring came, and the chinooks. This trip was imperative.

  It was late afternoon when they reached Saskatoon; after all, they had bucked a considerable wind most of the way. Will deposited Tierney at the hostel and went on, promising to pick her up the day after the next one, early. Accustomed to buying the supplies and knowing how much he had to spend, Will would not need her help for that. Tierney’s shopping, what she needed to do for herself, she would do tomorrow while Anne worked.

  The clerk remembered her. “Same room,” he directed and handed her a key.

  Before taking off her coat, Tierney lit a fire in the small heater that had been brought in as soon as the weather turned cold. Annie, she knew, would appreciate the comfort and warmth when she came through the door.

  It was almost ten o’clock before the door opened and Anne appeared, in a new coat and gloves and with a bright tam on her head. Seeing Tierney, a glorious surprise, brightened her weary face dramatically, and before ever her wraps were loosened she flew into her friend’s embrace. Soft coos and murmurs of happiness filled the sparsely furnished little room as Tierney and Anne wept a few tears together, laughed at their own silliness, and finally drew apart to wipe their eyes and study each other fixedly.

  “You look so good to me!” Anne declared unsteadily.

  “You look . . . oh, Annie, you look so tired! Good, of course, but tired.”

  “I am tired. I think I’m always tired. But oh, Tierney, guess what? I’m workin’ in the dinin’ room. Aye! I’m a waitress; can you believe that? I should have been off at nine, you know, having started at nine, but that’s the way it goes—twelve hours we work; only twelve, if we’re lucky. Mr. Whidby—”

  “Of the rasping, rubbing hands?”

  “The same Mr. Whidby. I’m grateful he has given me the chance in the dining room. I was sick and tired of peeling vegetables! And you know what, Tierney? I’m not nearly as afeart of men as I was. Mr. Whidby, laughable though he is and a pest in some ways, has taught me how to stand up to all these farmers and trappers and salesmen who coom through here.”

  “Oh, Annie, I’m so glad! I hated to see you so scared and intimidated!”

  “Men!” Anne sniffed. “They’re not as impossible as I thought. You know, Tierney, a lot of their ways are just put on.” Anne was removing her wraps as she talked. “They are, mostly, far from home and wife or mither, and they love to tease. I’m learnin’ to tease back, or ignore them, or, in some cases slap a hand. In fun, of course,” she added quickly, seeing Tierney’s shocked face, “and I get away with it!”

  “Tha’s . . . tha’s good, Annie,” Tierney said. Annie, slapping a man? If she’d only had some of that spunk where Lucian was concerned. But of course she had! She had fought tooth and nail, like a tiger, and she had kept her virginity no doubt because of it. Yes, Annie had been through the gamut of experiences. But it seemed she was coming out on top, her old self again. It was worth the trip just to find this out, Tierney thought, grateful she could relax her worries over her friend, in one way at least. Now, if she just didn’t look so tired. . . .

  In spite of her physical weariness, it seemed Anne was doing well. “Look here,” she said, reaching a hand into her skirt pocket and producing a handful of change, walking to the dresser, and dropping it into a jar of coins.

  “Are those . . .”

  “Aye, tips. They call ’em tips, Tierney.”

  “And what do ye do to get ’em?” Tierney asked a trifle grimly.

  Anne’s laughter, tired though she was, trilled out blithely. “Naething, ye silly gowk! At least naething but give ’em good service. Oh, Tierney, ye should live in the city . . . weel, town, as I do.”

  Tierney glanced around the room, barren of anything homey—hosiery drying on a line across the corner; teacups stacked on the small table along with tea, bread, crackers, and a few other items of food; two straight-backed chairs.

  “We’re goin’ to get a couple o’ rocking chairs,” Anne defended, rightly interpreting her friend’s glance. “Wi’ the fire lit, and the lamp, and a good book from the library—you would really love the library, Tierney—we are verra comfortable.”

  But Tierney thought of the Ketchum home, the love and accord there, her own room clean and attractive, the abundant food, the warm fireside, and wouldn’t have changed places with Annie for anything.

  “Weel, we’re each contented then,” she said. “An’ so, it seems, is our Pearly. An’ have ye heard anything from home?”

  Anne had not. But there was much to talk about, so much in fact that they forgot about Tierney’s supper until Fria came in, bearing a pail of hot soup. Greetings over, “There’s plenty of soup for you, too,” she said to Tierney.

  There was a warm camaraderie around the small heater, Tierney and Fria eating soup and crackers at the table, Anne sitting on the bed nearby, all chattering a mile a minute.

  Once again, at bedtime, it was three to a bed. But with the room cooling quickly as the fire was damped and the night wind howled around, they were grateful for the extra body warmth and soon drifted off to sleep.

  The next day, with directions from Anne, Tierney located a shoe store and purchased the overshoes she needed. In fact, she put them on and wore them. The wind was fierce, and her feet were freezing. After that she located a general store where she picked up a few personal items, found a top for Buster, and a book—Medical Companion and Household Physician—for Will and Lavinia, who had bemoaned their need of such a treatise several times. It pledged a concise presentation of “The Causes, the Symptoms and Treatment, demonstrating the cure of the various ills humanity is subject to.” Following that, Tierney spent a good hour searching for and selecting something for each member of the family for Christmas; she’d not get back to town before then.

  Following the “shopping spree,” Tierney stopped by the Madeleine and the dining room, as Anne had suggested. At Anne’s recommendation she did it in the middle of the afternoon, when business in the dining room was slowest. Anne, having obtained Mr. Whidby’s graciously granted permission, took Tierney back to the kitchen and introduced her to the crew there, particularly Mrs. Corcoran and Spalpeen, whose shenanigans filled parts of every letter Anne wrote and kept Tierney amused as well as the hotel staff.

  Nothing would do but Mrs. Corcoran, also ready for a break, would serve up—not only a glorious pot of tea, but, when she realized Tierney was staying at the hostel—a gr
eat platter of food, roast beef, pickles, cheese, boiled egg, and urged Tierney to “tuck in.” And when Tierney left, it was with a package of dessert, doughnuts, tarts, fruit cake, plenty for treats that evening and to take back home to the farm with her.

  “What a dear she is,” Tierney said to Anne as she slipped on her coat again and prepared to go back to the room.

  “I couldna have made it without her, the darlin’,” Anne acknowledged. “Now, when ye get there, build up the fire and sit doon and read one o’ the books. That’ll keep ye goin’ until I get back.”

  Another evening, a few more good laughs, much sharing, a few tears, and it was bedtime and sleep. The following morning, before eyes were hardly open and clothes donned, Will was there, knocking on the door.

  “Five minutes,” he said cheerily.

  The short deadline was a good thing. It allowed for no weeping and few words. With one last hug Tierney was on her way, insisting Annie stay in by the fire, and bustling off with her packages, her overshoes on her feet and a new tight-fitting knitted cap on her head.

  If she had thought the wind bitter when they came in, if she had thought the frozen roads rough, if she had supposed things couldn’t get any worse, she had a lesson in store for her.

  “I don’t like this,” Will declared, pulling an extra blanket up around his own legs, having first tucked Tierney in. “We better make tracks. Trouble is, the team can only go so fast, given the distance and the weather.”

  Perched on the wagon seat, the wind whipping around, snatching at the blankets, tossing the team’s manes and tails, frosting Will’s eyebrows, and in spite of hat and gloves and Lavinia’s heavy coat sending shivers up and down her body, Tierney thought of Pearly and her prayers. What a shame that she, Tierney, hadn’t been in a position to pray a few words of comfort over Anne when they parted; what a pity that she couldn’t whisper a request for mercy as they tussled their way through the wind and the cold.