Vein of Love

by Pat Mestern

  The dinging of a large bell mounted on the inside of the door, announced the arrival of Harry and Pete at the general store.

  “There’s no tinkling of delicate bells round here,” Pete said. “Arnie and his wife live in the back. They need to know whose comin’ and who’s goin’. And, there’s been too much goin’ without paying what with the tramps passin’ through these days. Of course people need to eat. But all they’d need to do is ask Arnie for a meal rather than steal a can of beans. The guy’s the salt of the earth.”

  “Speaking of salt,” a voice said. “You don’t happen to have a shipment of mine at the station, do you? I’m low on flour, sugar, and salt.” A rotund, dark-haired fellow parted a curtain between the store and living quarters. You brought a load for me?”

  “I’m here with this young lad and a back seat full of boxes and bags for ya. You can thank Harry, it is Harry, isn’t it? He helped load the car. He’s stronger than he looks.”

  “Arnie DuChamp.” Arnie extended his hand. “You Harry Forest, the fellow Tomas wrote me about, the one looking for Ollie Olsen?”

  “I am.”

  “I don’t expect that I’ll see Ollie for a few days. He only comes out of the bush for supplies when he desperately needs them. Or he sends his squ … his woman. I see her more than the Swede.”

  Harry’s crestfallen look startled both men. He looked like he was going to cry.

  “Now, don’t worry son. I got a spare bunk in the storeroom. You can help me round here until one of ‘em’ shows up. That’s the least I can do for Tomas.”

  “That’s kind of you, Mr. DuChamp.”

  “Arnie. Just call me Arnie. My wife’s name is Elizabeth, Liza for short, spelled as lizard without the ‘rd’. She has just as quick a tongue.”

  Pete chuckled. “Harry was asking about a barber.”

  “You need a haircut?” Arnie said.

  “I am a barber,” Harry said. “I was asking about customers. Maybe I can cut some hair while I’m waiting for Mr. Olsen.”

  “Hells Bells! I’ll be darned. You’ll come in handy, lad. I’ll put a sign in the window “Buy your groceries and get fleeced at the same time.” A barber in residence; Liza will like that. By the way, what do you have to do with Ollie or Tomas? Are you related in some way?”

  Harry hesitated then said quietly, “Tomas is a close friend. I’m going out on his trapline with Mr. Olsen while Tomas stays down south with his mother and brother for a while. My Charl—Tomas’s sister—died and his mother needed him around for a while. Her death took everyone hard.”

  Arnie, figuring from the look on Harry’s face that there was more to the explanation—a lot more—glanced at Pete. “Enough said. You’re in good hands round these parts. You’ve got me and Pete to count on. Ollie and his woman will take good care of you, too, I’m sure. And Liza, when she sees how young you are, she will smother you with food and motherly advice. I mean, a kid your age needs a mother around.”

  “I’m short and odd-looking, as you’ve already noticed, but I’m older than you think. I’m twenty-one,” Harry said.

  “I’ll be darned!” Pete reached for Harry’s hat and whipped it off his head. “Now look at that, Arnie. He’s not kidding. He’s a miniature, bald barber. You just need a big green pointy hat to complete the picture. Sorry, kid. That just came out …”

  Harry laughed. “I can’t help what I look like but I can beat the heck out of anyone when it comes to sums, quoting poetry’ and barbering.”

  “You plan on trimming the hair on bear and beaver?” Arnie smiled and asked “I dare you to even try to cut Ollie’s hair. Just wait until you see his matted mane.”

  “I plan on trapping just like Tomas,” Harry said.

  “You’d better get used to dogs and silence and bush food,” Arnie said. “It’s the silence will get to you. You’re in for a pound.”

  “In for an ounce, in for a pound,” Harry said.

  Nine Days Later

  “Hey, Harry. Your ticket to the bush just walked in.”

  “Be right there,” Harry said. “I’ll just finish adding this column first.”

  When Harry ducked through the curtain, he expected to see a man. Instead, a tall dusky-skinned woman, swathed in winter clothing, stood by the counter. When she removed her cap, long black braids fell onto her shoulders. Outside, the barking of dogs disturbed the relatively quiet Wednesday afternoon.

  “Jeez, did you have to bring the whole pack?” Arnie asked. “That lot will be heard in Blind River. How long did it take you to get here?”

  “Three and a half days,” the woman said. “I ran into a squall twenty miles out. I need many supplies and didn’t know if the man could carry much, so I brought the big toboggan and two of the best dogs.”

  Arnie put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is who you’ve come for,” he said, “Harry Forest, Tomas’s friend.”

  Harry tendered his hand to the woman who he noted stood more than a foot taller than him. She shook it with the strength of a man.

  “Nibi Ikwe,” the woman said. “I am known as Nibi. Ollie is on the trapline. Can you carry a seventy-pound pack?”

  “I’ll try,” Harry said.

  “Little man with broad shoulders is better than big man with broad belly,” Nibi said, looking toward Arnie.

  “Low blow,” Arnie said. “Where’s your shopping list?”

  “In my head,” Nibi said. “You ask that knowing I can’t write. Ollie says to put the supplies on the bill. You won’t be paid until the furs are sold.”

  “Fair enough,” Arnie said. “Ollie and Tomas are two people that I do trust. Harry, you should pack. Pare down to necessities. ‘Wants’ get heavy on the trail. I’ll store what you decide you don’t need right away. Pack a couple of books, no more. Wear your warmest clothes.”

  “You like dogs?” Nibi asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you handle a sled?”

  Harry looked out the window at the tangle of dogs and toboggan. Nibi had tied the team to the bumper of Arnie’s ’27 Ford truck.

  Harry shook his head. “No. I’d be at their mercy.”

  Arnie laughed. “You’d be more like a meal for that pack but you’ll learn.”

  “The weather is closing in again,” Nibi said. “We should get supplies and be on the trail soon otherwise I’ll have to sleep in your shed.”

  Harry looked from Nibi to Arnie then asked. “Why would Nibi sleep in the shed? Shouldn’t she stay in here overnight?”

  Arnie gave Harry a look that indicated he didn’t want to broach the subject. Harry wouldn’t be deterred from his train of thought.

  “A woman shouldn’t be on the trail after dark, regardless of whom, or what she is. It will be late by the time we get the order ready.”

  “Always the gentleman, aren’t you,” Arnie said, “regardless other people’s … opinions.”

  “There’s no harm in asking,” Harry said, not caring that he’d caused Arnie some discomfort about housing an Indian woman. Charlotte had taught him to put women first. His mother preached that everyone was equal, regardless their religion or colour. “Arnie, would you want Liza on the trail after dark in the winter with a … packsacker like me?”

  “You know, you’re a real talker when you get a bug on,” Arnie said. “There’s a big difference between Liza and Nibi, in case you haven’t noticed. Nibi was born and raised in the bush. She can take care of herself if need be.”

  “If housing an Indian overnight is an embarrassment, I’d rather be on the trail,” Nibi said. “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone. But, if you showed up in camp Ollie wouldn’t turn you away, night or day, be you White, Brown, or Black”

  “She can sleep in the storeroom and I can sleep on the floor out here in the store,” Harry said.

  Arnie sighed. “You’re right, Nibi. Tomas and Ollie would bend over backwards to help a friend. Maybe it’s time that some situations are laid to rest. It’s Liza that I’m going to have to deal
with. She’ll have some reservations, so to speak. Recite your provisions list to Harry. We’ll get it together so you can leave early in the morning. Just give me a few minutes to set things right with Liza afore you come behind the curtain. If you hear any shouting, ignore it if you can.”

  “Where should I tie the dogs?” Nibi asked.

  “Take ‘em’ to the back of the store. Tether them round the big pine.”

  “There’s a large piece of frozen moose meat on the sled for you,” Nibi said. “Ollie says that you’re a moose meat addict.”

  “It must have been difficult to keep the dogs off that little offering,” Arnie said.

  “More the wolves,” Nibi said. I slept with the gun, loaded, at my side.”

  Conversation around the supper table proved to be easier than Arnie or Harry had anticipated. After an initial period of wary acceptance, Liza and Nibi found they had common interests. They worked together to make dinner and kept the chatter going during the meal. Even Harry joined in, comfortable in Nibi’s presence, respectful of her heritage. In her own way, he thought Nibi was not unlike Charlotte in the way she accepted everyone at face value and ignored any negative undercurrents.

  “So, you never went to school,” Liza said. “I stayed in school until I was seventeen years old, then worked for my parents in their store in Sault Ste Marie; before I met Arnie.”

  “Father broke laws. He didn’t want us to lose our Indian ways; so my family didn’t live on a reserve. They were unregistered Indians. We didn’t accept charity from the government. We were always on the run, hiding so my brothers, sister, and I weren’t forced into attending a residential school. I was the youngest. We lived off the land, in the bush, always moving further north, away from civilization when someone set the authorities onto us. I didn’t learn to read or write English. I learned Indian ways, traditions, and customs. There was no need to know the English language or your ways until my family camped on Matinenda Lake where they met Ollie and the missionary.”

  “There was a lumber camp and a small church on Matinenda Lake,” Arnie said.

  “By the time we lived on Matinenda, my brothers and sister had all left. Some went back to the reserve. One went to the Yukon. One brother, who was good with a rifle, joined the army and was killed in France in 1917. I stayed with my elderly parents and grandparents but I was older then and didn’t need to worry about being sent to any school.”

  “How did you team up with Ollie,” Arnie asked.

  “One day two men came into camp. It was Ollie, half-carrying Tomas who had caught bush fever. My mother and grandmother nursed him back to health. Until Tomas was better, Ollie tended the trapline. Sometimes I went with him. I learned trapping as a child. Even after Tomas got better I went with them.”

  Liza arched her brows and looked at Arnie. “So, you lived with two men for a while. How long have you been married to Ollie? I have to assume that you are married.”

  The missionary married us - six years now because he said that we were living in sin. Ollie taught me how to speak English. I learned to read, slowly, but I’ve never learned to write it. I am as much a partner in the fur trapping as Ollie, as far as Tomas is concerned.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed by the question, but how old are you, Nibi?” Liza asked.

  “Twenty-four summers. Ollie is thirty summers.”

  “You were very young when you moved in with the men, a mere … child,” Liza said.

  “Old enough,” Nibi said. “That was the way of it.”

  Harry, sensing Liza might get into her self-righteous mood, decided to change the subject quickly. “What does your Ojibway name, Nibi Ikwe, mean?”

  “Water Woman. I was born in a canoe on the waters of Lake Nipigon, just before the berry moon when my family was moving from winter to summer camp with others of my clan.”

  “How unusual,” Harry said.

  “Better than on land. No mosquitoes,” Nibi said. “Very good name for me because women are the keepers of the waters.”

  “When your family settled near the mission church, you became more settled than nomadic,” Harry said.

  “More Christian than savage,” Arnie interjected.

  “I’m as Indian as my ancestors were,” Nibi said. “I didn’t lose the ways to survive. Neither did my family. We adapted to yours, when necessary.”

  Blackie’s distinctive deep-throated howl sounded the alert that Nibi was close by. Ollie stoked the stove and set the coffee pot to boil. Then, donning a heavy coat, he stood outside by the cabin’s door, pipe smoke swirling round his head as he waited for a glimpse of the sled as it rounded the high rock face that marked the entrance to the sheltered cove. Lake ice was smooth, which meant that regardless any command, the dogs would break and run for the cabin. Nibi, knowing their routine, would have secured the load.

  If he be truthful, it was Nibi’s companion that Ollie wanted to see. If he was anything like Tomas described in his letter, life might prove to be interesting for a while around camp. Tomas had warned that although Harry Forest was small in stature, the young man was stubborn and feisty by nature. The fellow would stick to any job given until it, or he, was done.

  Ollie smiled at the sight of Nibi’s tall form, walking beside the figure of a man bent almost double under a heavy pack. Nibi had obviously slowed her pace to suit the fellow’s short, sluggish steps. The dogs pushed harder into their harness to move faster. “Poor guy’ll definitely need some toughening up,” Ollie said as he made his way toward the shore, using a large stick like a cane. He never had to use the stick on a camp dog because they all respected his menacing actions and commanding voice, but he carried one anyway.

  When Ollie reached the shore he shouted to Nibi, “Loose the hold on the sled. The dogs will make their way to me so you can help your friend.”

  Nibi did as she was told and the dogs, with heavy sled careening behind, made a beeline for Ollie who turned and walked back up the path toward the cabin. He had the dogs tethered and was unloading the toboggan by the time Nibi and companion came up the path. “Let me help you with that load.” Ollie reached for Harry’s pack. It was only after the load had been removed that Harry’s unique physique became apparent.

  Harry removed his cap and shook Ollie’s proffered hand. The red indent left by the tumpline exaggerated the bald head and large ears. His eyes showed wariness. His handshake told how exhausted the fellow was after his first trot through the bush.

  “Welcome to our humble abode,” Ollie said. “Should I call you Harry, or do you have a nickname you’d prefer?”

  “Any nickname that has landed on me, I’d like to forget,” Harry said. “You received a note from Tomas?”

  “Arnie noticed the Important to Read note on the envelope so gave the letter to one of Nibi’s clan to deliver to the camp on his way back into the bush. Tomas explained everything. Nibi and I will do what we can to make you welcome, and comfortable.”

  “As one can be in the camp,” Nibi said.

  Ollie chuckled. “Well, it’s no luxury hotel. Bush life is not for the faint of heart or a goodie-two-shoes greenhorn. I bet you’re hungry, Harry. Trail grub isn’t gourmet. There’s coffee on the boil and some frozen moose meat stew that won’t take long to heat up. How was the run, Nibi?”

  “Good. No storms. Forest Man isn’t used to traveling through a northern bush but we managed to make good time by crossing one of the smaller frozen lakes rather than go around it.”

  Ollie smiled. Nibi in her own way had accepted Harry into the fold. Not everyone she knew was given a special name. Harry had obviously earned her respect through his tenacity and willingness to carry his weight.

  Harry felt overwhelmed by the sheer size of the man standing in front of him. Ollie stood a head taller than Nibi. A shock of unruly blonde hair sprouted from under a knitted cap. When Ollie turned toward the cabin, Harry noticed that the rest of the hair, tied with a rawhide lace, fell to Ollie’s waist. His shoulders were massive. His back was str
aight as a ramrod. His beard was indescribable. Tomas had mentioned that the man could be a force to be reckoned with if pushed into a corner. Harry felt like a dwarf in his presence yet there was no indication from either Nibi or her companion that he was less than welcome, less than equal,so far. Harry’d learned a long time ago never to let his guard down but he felt strangely at home in the lonely expanse of the northern wilderness.

  Ollie’s log cabin consisted of one room just large enough for a table, four benches, a double bed, and a single. Shelves lined the wall near a small wood-burning stove that doubled for heating and cooking. A wood box that was constantly in need of filling sat near the only door. The cabin’s windows were glass but covered by pieces of old grey army-issued woolen blanket to keep out the cold. A half-loft held extra supplies. Ollie explained that when you’re on the trapline you don’t need a castle to come home to.

  An outbuilding with two canoes on supports beside it served as headquarters for processing and storing the results of their hard work on the trapline. A second toboggan and several pairs of snowshoes leaned against the outside wall of the cabin.

  For the first while, Harry accompanied Ollie on his rounds, spending six to eight days at a time in the bush checking the traps and removing and skinning the kill. To Harry’s surprise, he didn’t find the killing and skinning an unpleasant task. He was not a man who would kill an animal for sport. He justified trapping as a job that needed to be done to put food on a table.

  Harry learned quickly how to survive snowstorms and snow blindness. The men were always accompanied by the dogs who gave advance warning of bears, wolves, and cougars. They slept next to their masters, their body heat appreciated.

  Then came the day when Ollie placed enough confidence in Harry that the line was divided. Ollie took the north and eastern circle while Harry was put in charge of the south and west sections. That was the day that Harry began his vigils of silence. Tomas had said that many days alone in the wilderness can do strange things to a man’s mind. Harry’s vigils of silence were such that even at the cabin he listened more than spoke. Ollie loved to spin tales of his early life in Sweden. Nibi told legends that were very deeply ingrained in her Ojibway culture.