[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (15 page)

"Run in before you get soaked, Elizabeth," he urged, helping me
down from the wagon seat. I did not stop to argue.

Wynn hastened to unhitch the team and then he was there, bringing the horses right in with him. He moved them to the far end of the
shed and tied them to a peg in the wall. A loud crack of thunder made
me jump and the horses whinney in fright. Now the rain came in
sheets. I had never seen it rain so hard.

The shelter we had found was in no way waterproof. We had to
watch where we stood in order to prevent the rain from running down
our necks.

There was one spot along the south wall where it seemed to be
quite dry. Wynn pointed to it and suggested we sit there to wait out
the storm. The building had a dirt floor and again I was glad that I
still wore the pants. We sat on the floor and leaned against the wall of
the building. Outside the angry storm continued to sweep about us,
flashing and booming as it passed over our heads.

It did not last long. In less than a half hour or so it was over. The dark clouds moved on, the thunder continuing to rumble in the distance.

The storm had not improved our road any. Where we had, a few
minutes before, been traveling in dust, we now were in muck. Wynn
said we were lucky-such a hard rain had a tendency to run off rather
than to soak like gentler rain would have done. But I wondered how
the trail could possibly have gotten any muddier.

I felt sorry for the horses as they labored through the mud which
made the already heavy load even heavier. We both walked whenever
we could find halfway decent footing to save them the extra weight.
Wynn stopped frequently to let them catch their breath. Their sides
heaved and their backs began to steam; but they seemed impatient to
get on with it and were soon chomping at the bit at every stop.

The storm brought one blessing. For a few merciful minutes, the
mosquitoes stayed away. I was just about to share my joy with Wynn
when the pests began to buzz around us again.

"I've been told that there are some trappers who live along this
route," Wynn informed me as we trudged on. "I had hoped to make
it to their cabin tonight."

I was glad to hear there were people living along the trail. Then I
remembered Charlie.

"Just men?" I asked.

"No, they have womenfolk-and children, I believe."

That was even better news.

"How far?"

"I'm not sure. I've never been up this way before."

"Do you think we'll make it by dark?"

"I'm hoping so-but, if not, we'll be fine camping out if we need
to. Remember, you had wanted the experience of sleeping under the
stars on our Banff honeymoon."

I nodded. I remembered well. And then our honeymoon had been
cut so short there wasn't time.

"It might be fun," I answered Wynn. "Do you think it will rain
some more?"

Wynn checked the sky. "I don't think so. Not tonight. Maybe a
little tomorrow."

"Oh, dear," I fairly groaned at the news. "Will we get held up again
tomorrow?"

"I hope it won't be stormy enough to stop us-but it might be
rather miserable traveling for a spell."

The long summer day of sunlight allowed us to continue traveling
till after ten o'clock. We had not even stopped to eat, munching instead
on hard, dry sandwiches and sipping water from the flask Wynn had
filled that morning.

"Well," Wynn said, just as I was beginning to realize how very
weary I was, "I'm afraid we are going to have to give up on that cabin.
We need to stop. You must be exhausted, Elizabeth, and the horses
need a chance to rest and feed."

I looked around at the scraggly evergreens. We had passed through
much prettier spots earlier in the day.

"It looks like there might be a clearing just up ahead. The grass
should be better there. Let's have a look."

Wynn was right. Much to our surprise, at the opposite side of the
clearing stood a small log cabin.

"Well, look at that," said Wynn, relieved. "The trappers. And right
when we need them."

The cabin appeared to be very small. I looked around for another
one. Wynn had mentioned more than one family. I couldn't see
another cabin. It must be hidden in the trees.

"Do you think one of the families might have room for us?" I
asked Wynn.

Wynn smiled. "Oh, they'll have room all right. Even if we all have
to stand still to manage it, there'll be room."

I looked perplexed and Wynn explained. "Hospitality in the North
is as much a part of life as eating and sleeping. They might not have
much, but whatever they have is yours."

As we approached the cabin, I looked down at myself in embarrassment. Wynn had said there were women here, and I would be turning up at their door in my male attire looking like a pincushion-bites
and scratches and bruises indicating a much-used pincushion at that. I
didn't have the time or the opportunity to make any repairs on my
appearance. We had already been spotted.

We were met in the yard by four small children-three boys and a
girl. I had never seen such chewed-up hands and faces in my life. I was
a mess, but they were even more so. They seemed to take it all for
granted, chatting with us and swatting insects as though it was the
most natural thing in the world.

The children ushered us into the house and, to my surprise, we
found that it was home to two families. The men saw no reason to
furnish and supply wood for more than one cabin. It was one long,
open room shared by four adults and four children. Another baby was
on the way, probably due any day.

The woman who met us at the door and welcomed us in was just
as mosquito-bitten as the children, as was the one who turned from
the stove and smiled a shy welcome. I relaxed about how I looked, but
at the same time I winced. Would I look like this the entire time I
lived in the north country? Surely not, God, I whispered in dismay.

With great ceremony we were immediately seated at.a crude table,
while the woman at the stove brought huge bowls of steaming stew
and set them before us. They had been about to have their evening
meal; and upon our arrival, the women had given us their places at the
table. I wanted to protest, but Wynn nudged me forward and I understood that to decline their invitation as welcomed guests might offend
them. With mixed feelings I sat down and smiled at them appreciatively. I was hungry and the food smelled delicious.

I recognized none of the vegetables I saw in my dish. Wynn
informed me that the women were experts at combing the forest for
edible plants. I smiled at them again, thanking them for sharing their
supper.

"We be so glad to see ya, yet doin' us the favor," declared the older
one with simple courtesy.

No grace was said before we began, so I offered, unobtrusively, my
own short prayer of thanks. I blessed Wynn's food as well, as the men
did not give him any time for such an observance. Immediately they
began plying him with questions about the outside world.

The children ate noisily. It was plain that manners were not considered necessary around this table. A common cup passed from person
to person with the hot drink that went with the meal. I smiled and passed it on. To my chagrin, Wynn lifted it without hesitation and
drank deeply. I fervently prayed again-that God would keep him
from getting some dreadful disease.

"That was very good," I said to the cook when we had finished. "I
wish we had time to let you show me how to make it."

She dipped her head shyly.

"Wasn't nothin'," she stated. "It's the bear that gives it the flavor."

"Bear?" I echoed, feeling my stomach contract.

"Bear meat's 'bout the best there is," observed her cabin-sister.

For a moment, I thought I would bolt from the table; but then I
saw Wynn's amused eyes on my face and I swallowed hard and smiled.

"Well, it certainly is," I answered her evenly. "That was very tasty."

I saw the look of unbelief cross Wynn's face, and I smiled againdirectly into his eyes. "Maybe when we get settled, you can shoot a
bear," I challenged him, "and I can make you some stew like this."

He laughed outright. I'm sure no one else at the table understood
our little joke.

We did spend the night with the trappers and their families. There
were two beds in the room. We were given one of them. The two
women took the other; and the two men, without comment or protest,
took robes and blankets from a stack in the corner and spread out on
the floor with the children, everyone sleeping fully clothed.

After Wynn had dressed my injured leg the next morning and
expressed again his pleasure at how nicely it was healing, we were on
our way. With luck, this would be our last day on the trail.

I followed Wynn's advice and draped a scarf over my head and
down around my neck, but the pesky little mosquitoes and flies still
got at me. The hairline at the back of my neck seemed to be their
special delight.

"How do the people stand it?" I asked Wynn as I scratched at the
swelling lumps.

"It's one of the things they learn to live with," he shrugged.

I didn't like the answer. Mostly because I knew that it implied I
must learn to live with it as well.

It was a beautiful July day; and, though clouds passed by overhead,
it did not rain. The warm sun soon had dried the rain of the day before
from the track. Only in spots did we still plow through messy, gooey,
wet places, the horses throwing themselves against their collars and
straining to pull the heavy wagon. Wynn would always stop them for
a breather and soon they were chomping and straining to be on the
way again.

Occasionally, we traveled along the banks of a stream or beside a
still lake. The fish would jump to feed on the swarming insects that
got too near the water's surface. I wished them good hunting-each
fish's dinner was one less to bother me!

We stopped around noon in an area covered with tall fir trees. I recognized several different varieties, but I didn't know enough to be
able to separate them by name. Wynn was much too busy unhitching
the horses and getting the fire going to answer questions, so I walked
off alone, observing as I walked and storing questions for later. I kept
Wynn in sight so I wouldn't get lost.

By the time the fire was burning briskly, I was back to help with
our meal.

We did not stop for long.

In a swampy area I spotted a mother moose and her young one,
even without Wynn pointing them out to me. I was pleased with
myself.

"Look!" I cried. `A moose-two mooses."

Wynn smiled and nodded his head as he. followed my pointing
finger. He turned to me and said simply, "I must correct you, Elizabeth, so you won't be laughed at-moose is both singular and plural."

I guess I had known that; but, in my excitement, I had forgotten.
I nodded in appreciation of Wynn's concern for me. I also appreciated
the fact that he had not laughed.

I watched the moose until they were lost from sight and then I
turned to Wynn. "What else?" I asked.

"What else, what?" he puzzled.

"What other animal names are both singular and plural?"

"Deer. Elk. Caribou." Wynn stopped.

"Bear?" I asked him.

"Bear? No, it's quite all right to refer to `The Three Bears."'

`Any other?"

"Likely."

"Likely? You mean you don't know?"

"They don't come to mind right now."

"How will I know what to say if-?"

He smiled at me and reached to push back a lock of unruly hair
that insisted upon curling around my cheek. "You'll learn. You're very
quick."

I flushed slightly under his smile and the compliment. It was good
to know Wynn was not afraid that he might be embarrassed by his
city-bred wife.

"Are we almost there?" I asked Wynn like a child for the tenth
time. We had stopped for our evening meal.

He smiled at me and spread out his map. He carefully studied our
surroundings, looking for some identifying signs. I couldn't make head
nor tail of Wynn's map. After a moment of study, he pointed to a spot
on the map. "We are about here," he said. "That should leave us about
nine or ten miles to go. No, not quite," he corrected himself. "More
like seven to eight."

"Will we make it tonight?"

"I certainly hope so-but it won't be early. It's a good thing we
have lots of daylight for traveling. I'm afraid we're going to need it."

I loaded our supper things back in the wagon while Wynn hitched
the horses, and we were on our way again. Perhaps we had made our
last stop-I certainly hoped so. Excitement took hold of me as I
thought of how close I was getting to my new home.

The horses seemed to sense they were getting close to home, too;
and Wynn had to hold them back in spite of their tiredness and the
heavy wagon they pulled.

I felt too excited and tense to even talk, so the last leg of our journey was a quiet one. But my mind was full of questions-some that
even Wynn would not have been able to answer, not having lived at
Beaver River himself. What will our little cabin be like? What will our
neighbors be like? Will there be any white women at the Post? Will the
Indians like me and accept me? Will I ever be able to converse with them?
The thoughts whirled about in my head, making me almost dizzy.

The sun dropped into the west, closer and closer to the horizon.
Still we had not reached Beaver River, and I was beginning to wonder
if Wynn had made an error in his estimation-easily forgiven considering the little information he had been given. I was about to wonder
aloud when Wynn spoke.

"Would you spread out that map on your lap, please? I want to
take another look at it while it's still light enough to see well."

I spread out the map and, without comment, Wynn began to
refigure.