[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (24 page)

She nodded and rose to prepare the tea. She turned slightly. "Elizabeth, I'm sorry-sorry about what I said concerning the white man.
It's only-only that sometimes-sometimes I cannot understand the
things men do. The way they gnash and tear at one another-it's worse
than wolves or foxes." This time she did not say white man, though I
wondered if she still thought it.

"I know," I agreed shamefacedly. "Sometimes I cannot understand
it either. It isn't the way it was meant to be. It isn't the way Jesus wants
it to be. It isn't the right way. The Bible tells us that God abhors it,
too. He wants us to love and care for one another."

"Does the white man know that?"

"Some of them do."

"Hasn't the white man had the Bible for many years?"

"Yes, for many years."

"Then why doesn't he read it and do what it says?"

I shook my head. It was a troubling question. "I don't know," I
finally admitted. "I really don't know."

Our Bible studies together started the next day as planned. We did
not meet together every day, but we did meet regularly. Ian did not
seem to object, and Wynn was most encouraging.

Nimmie was a good student; and as we began to piece together the
whole plan of God for His creation, she became excited about it.

"Katherine should be here! She needs to hear this," she insisted.

I wondered about Katherine. I doubted that she would come out
of her bitterness long enough to even listen, but Nimmie kept insisting.

"Do you mind if I bring her?" she continued.

"Well, no. I don't mind. I'm not sure-I'm not sure she'd come
that's all. I've asked her to my house many times, and I've never been
able to get her to come."

"For Bible study?"

"Well, no, not for Bible study necessarily. Just for tea. But if she
won't come even for tea, I surely don't think she'll want to come for
study."

"She might," persisted Nimmie. "I'll ask her."

When Nimmie arrived for the next study, she had Katherine with
her. I never will know how she effected the miracle. I tried to keep the
shock out of my face as I welcomed them both in.

Katherine scowled as we opened our Bibles and began to read. She
had brought a Bible of her own, but it didn't look as though it had
received much use. She said nothing all morning long, even though
Nimmie often stopped in the reading to comment or ask for an explanation. She was eager to know not just the words but the meaning of
the words, now that she knew each of the stories was true.

When the two ladies left that morning, I told them I would be looking forward to our next time together. Katherine frowned and
informed me in unmistakable tones, "Don't expect me back. I came
just to get this here woman off my back. There's nothing in this book
that I don't already know. I'm not a heathen, you know-I was raised
in church."

"Then you must miss it," I said softly.

She wheeled to look at me.

"I was raised in church, too," I continued, "and if there is one thing
about the North that I miss more than any other, it is not being able
to go to church on Sunday."

She snorted her disgust, pressed her lips together and marched out
the door.

Nimmie looked at me sadly and followed the other woman.

I don't know how it came about; but the next time Nimmie came
for her study, Katherine was reluctantly trudging along behind her, her
Bible tucked under one arm.

I made no comment except to welcome them both, and we proceeded with our reading and discussion.

The weather was getting colder. Daily, large flocks of ducks and
geese passed overhead as the birds sought warmer climates. Almost all
the leaves were dancing on the ground rather than clinging to the nowbare branches. The animals' coats began to thicken; and men talked
about a long, hard winter.

Wynn hired some men to haul a good supply of wood for the fire,
and we prepared ourselves as well as possible for the winter weather
ahead.

The inevitable day came. The north winds howled in, carrying subzero temperatures and swirling snow. We were in the midst of our first
winter blizzard. I was so thankful that Wynn was home, safe and
sound, instead of out someplace checking on a far-off trapper.

In spite of the fire in the stove, the temperature in the cabin
dropped steadily. Wynn lit the fireplace and hung some blankets over
the windows to shut out the cold. Still the chill did not leave the air.
We piled on the clothing to keep our body heat in.

That night we banked our fires and retired early, hoping that the
next day might bring a break in the storm. During the night, Wynn
was up more than once to be sure the fire was still stoked with wood.

"I do hope there are no casualties," Wynn said. "This is unusually
severe for this time of year. Some folks might not have been prepared
for it."

I hoped, too, that there were no casualties. It would be terrible to
be caught out in such a storm.

When we awoke the next morning, we were disappointed to find
the fury of the storm had not slackened. Still it raged about us.

"Look," I said to Wynn when I found the water in the washstand
basin frozen, "it really is cold in here!"

I was about to empty the chunk of ice into the slop bucket when
Wynn stopped me. "Don't throw it out," he instructed. "Heat it and
reuse it."

"Use this?"

"Who knows when we might be able to get more water. We only
have three quarters of a pail, and we will need that for drinking and
cooking. We'll make the wash water last as long as possible."

When I had finished the breakfast dishes, I did not throw out that
water either. Instead, I left it in the dishpan at the back of the stove. It
would have to serve for washing the dinner dishes and perhaps even
the supper dishes as well.

I was all set to enjoy a lovely day with Wynn in spite of what the
weather was doing outside; but he came from the bedroom drawing on
a heavy fur jacket.

"Where are you going?" I questioned in alarm.

"I need to go down to the Hudson's Bay Store and make sure there
are no reports of trouble. I shouldn't be gone too long; but if something
comes up and I don't get back right away, you're not to worry. There is
plenty of wood. You shouldn't have any problem keeping warm and
dry"

He stopped to kiss me. "Don't go out, Elizabeth," he cautioned,
"not for any reason. If something happens so I can't get back to you by
nightfall, I'll send someone else."

By nightfall? What a dreadful thought!

Wynn slipped out into the swirling snow, and I was left standing
at the window watching his.form disappear all too quickly.

I don't remember any day that was longer. There was nothing to
do but to tend to the fires. Even with both burning, the cabin was
cold. I borrowed a pair of Wynn's heavy socks and put on my boots.
Still my feet were cold.

I walked around and around the small room, swinging my arms in
an effort to keep warm and to prevent total boredom. The storm did
not slacken. It was getting dark again. Not that it had ever been really
light on this day, but at least one had realized it was day and not night.

I fixed some tea. I had quite forgotten to eat anything all day. I was
sorry I had not thought of it. It could have helped to fill in a few of
my minutes.

It was well after I had lit the lamp and set it in the window that I
heard approaching footsteps. I rushed to the door. It was Wynn. He
was back safe and sound. I could have cried for joy.

"Is everything all right?" I asked, hugging him, snowy jacket and
all.

"As far as we know," he replied, stamping the snow from his boots.
"We had to go and get Mary. She had no fuel for a fire and wouldn't
have made it through the storm, I'm sure."

"Who's Mary?"

"She's a woman who lives alone since she lost her husband and
family three or four years ago. They call her Crazy Mary-maybe she
is; maybe she isn't, I don't know. But she refuses to move into the
settlement, and she has a tendency to rant and rave about things. She
was mad at me tonight for bodily removing her from her cabin and
bringing her to town."

"Bodily?"

He nodded. "She absolutely refused to go on her own."

"What did she do? Did she fight?"

"Oh, no. She didn't fight; she just wouldn't move, that's all. I carried her out and put her on the sled, and she rode into town like a
good girl. But I had to pick her up and carry her into Lavoies' cabin as
well."

I smiled, thinking of this determined Indian lady. She certainly had
gotten her point across.

"Well, she should be all right now," said Wynn. "Mrs. Sam is sure
she will stay put as long as the storm continues."

I was glad Crazy Mary was safe. What is the real story behind her
name? I wondered.

With the coming of the winter, many of the men had to leave their
warm cabins to go out to their traplines. The furs they trapped in
winter were the most profitable because of their thickness, and each
trapper had a designated area that was considered his. When I asked
Wynn how they made the arrangements, he said it seemed to be by
some kind of gentleman's agreement rather than by any legal contract.
I did learn that trapping another's territory was considered a major
offense.

There was the problem of stealing, as well. There wasn't much
common thievery in the North. No one felt over-concerned about
locking up what he owned. Houses were left open and belongings left
about the yard. The cabins that were constructed by the trappers for
protection while working the traplines were free to be used by others
who were passing through. Most trappers even made sure there was an
adequate wood supply and blankets, matches and rations for any guests
who might drop in during their absence. Of course, they knew the
other trappers would extend the same courtesy.

So in an area where usual theft was not much of a problem, a very
serious temptation and offense was stealing from another's trapline.
Such a criminal was considered to be the lowest of the low, not only a
thief of valuable animal pelts, but of a family's livelihood as well. Vengeance was often immediate and deadly, and few felt that the wronged
man could be blamed for taking the law into his own hands. The Royal
North West Policeman must be on guard all the time for this. Any
suspected thieves must be spotted and the guilty party apprehended
immediately before a brutal beating or even a murder might occur.
Wynn watched the lines and kept his eyes and ears open for any complaints of offenses.

Mostly it was the men who worked the traplines, but Crazy Mary
also claimed a small territory as her own. So once the storm had blown
itself out, she refused to stay at the Lavoies' and headed back, poorly
clothed, to protect her interests. She hinted rather loudly that there
might have been someone messing with some of her traps.

Most people shrugged off the story as one of Crazy Mary's fancies,
but Wynn could not dismiss it so easily. It must be checked and proven
false to put everyone's mind at ease. When the storm ended, Wynn
took snowshoes and dog team out to investigate.

Wynn did not keep his team at our cabin but in an enclosure by
the Hudson's Bay Store. One reason was that the food supply for the
dogs was over there, and also their clamor would not keep us awake at
night.

Each dog had been carefully picked by the men of the Force who
had preceded Wynn. The dogs were chosen for their endurance,
dependability, and strength, not particularly for their good disposition.
Many of them were scrappers and, for that reason, they had to be tied
well out of range of one another. Some of them had ragged ears or ugly
scars from past fights. I didn't care much for Wynn's sled dogs. Harnessing them to the sleigh was a tough job. Things could be going well;
and suddenly one of the dogs would get mad at something another dog
did, and a fight would break out. Before long the whole team would
be in a scrap, tangling the harness and making a general mess of things.
Yet the dog team was very necessary. Wynn used his dogs almost every
day during the winter.

He had been talking about choosing his own team and training
them himself for harness. With different training, he thought the dogs
might be better-tempered and make less problems on the trail. It
sounded like a good idea to me. It was going to take time and work,
but Wynn was watching for promising pups.

When he went out after the storm to check on Crazy Mary's story,
he informed me he also planned to swing around and see a litter of
pups which a trapper by the name of Smith had for sale near the west
branch of the river. I found myself wishing I could go with him, but I
didn't even mention the thought to Wynn. It was still very cold and
the snow was deep. The sled dogs were enough trouble on the trail. He certainly didn't need me along to complicate matters.

Wynn didn't return until late that night. He had talked with Mary
and gone over her trapline with her. She had shown him "signs" and
ranted on about her suspicions. This was the trapline her late husband
had managed, and Mary was steadfast in her belief that it now was her
exclusive property. But someone was moving in, she maintained,
infringing on her area. She hadn't found any evidence yet of stolen
pelts, but the new traps were getting in too close. They found no traps
that belonged to another trapper, but Mary was sure one or two had
been there. She could see the marks on the ground; she dug around in
the snow to prove her point. But Wynn could not accept her "evidence" as valid. He left her, promising to keep a sharp lookout and
asking her to get in touch with him if she still suspected anything.

Then, as planned, Wynn pulled his team around and went to see
Smith. Smith was away from his cabin when Wynn arrived, so Wynn
went in, started up a fire, and made himself a cup of tea. The pups
were in a corner of the cabin, so he had a good chance to look them
over well for potential sled dogs. There were some possibilities. Wynn
watched them play and tussle, liking what he saw.