[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (18 page)

I nodded my head but said nothing.

"Does that bother you?"

I was slow to answer. I wouldn't look forward to long days without
Wynn. But I had spent some time in prayer my first morning in the
settlement, and some of my praying had been about that very issue.

I was able to say honestly now, "I'll miss you, certainly. But I'll be
all right. I had a-a long talk with God about it and-I understand. I
know that you can't stay in your office all the time. Or even around
the settlement. I'll he fine. I still have so many things to do that I'll
keep busy."

I managed a smile.

Wynn reached for my hand. "I know you've been very busy. Our
little house looks much different since you've fixed it up, and I'm proud
of you." His smile of appreciation filled me with a warm glow. "I've
been wondering, though, if you might find some time now to get
acquainted with some of our neighbors," he went on. "We will be living among them; it would be nice if you could soon find some
friends."

"I've been meaning to," I told him. "Every day I've been telling
myself, `Today I will walk over to the store and meet some of the
people.' But each time I find something more that needs to be done,
so I put it off again."

Wynn nodded in understanding.

"I'll take some time this week. Tomorrow I need to do the washing,
but maybe Tuesday I can go to the store."

"I'd like that. I'd like you to get to know some of the women so
you might have company on the days I'm away."

I was quiet for a few moments. Wynn noticed.

"Something's bothering you," he commented, more as a statement
than a question.

"Not `bothering' really. It's just-well, I worry some about how I'll
ever-" I didn't know just how to express that strange little fear twisting inside of me. Finally I just blurted out, "How do you get to know
people when you can't talk to them?"

"You'll be able to talk to them. Oh, I know it will be hard and
there will be times when you'll have problems expressing yourself. But
,you will pick up a few of their words quickly-many of the Indians
already know a number of English words. Then there are always signs.
The Indians are very good at making one understand them by using
their limited English and their hands. They point out all kinds of messages. You'll catch on quickly-but you can't learn about them if you
are not with them."

I knew Wynn was right, and I determined I would no longer hide
behind my work but would venture forth and meet my new neighbors.
It would be so much easier for me if Wynn could be along, but I knew
his duties did not allow time for him to escort me around.

The sky was beginning to cloud over, so I picked up our picnic
remains and we hurried to our cabin. The day suddenly went from
sunshine to overcast to a thunderstorm. Wynn made a fire in the fireplace and we stretched out before it on the bear rug and talked about
the people we had left behind and the folks who were our new neighbors here.

Thus far, my contact with the villagers was only on the night we
had arrived. I had seen and been seen by a circle of friendly looking
faces. Thinking back on it, though, I would have called them more
curious than friendly. I could not remember even one smile except
from the big man, Ian McLain. From my window I had watched as
the two workmen had constructed our little shanty out back, and I had
seen a few Indian women and children at a distance as they walked one
or another of the paths that passed by our place. They always looked
toward our cabin with a great deal of interest. But none of them had stopped and, as I hadn't known what to say to them, I had not called
a greeting or invited them in.

Well, all of that must change. Even if it did mean learning a difficult new language, I must somehow break down the barriers and get
to know my northern neighbors. If only I mourned to myself, one of
them were a white woman. There would be a common ground, a common bond, with her.

"You haven't even been in the Hudson's Bay Store, have you?"
Wynn was asking.

"Not yet."

"I think you'll be surprised at the number of things available there.
Of course, they are quite expensive. The shipping charges added to the
cost make it far wiser to bring all you can with you rather than pay the
extra price."

I remembered the heavy wagon loaded with all the crates, barrels,
and boxes that brought our belongings to the settlement.

"Did that driver ever turn up?" I asked suddenly, my thoughts
going back to our experience on the trail.

"Driver?"

"The one who should have driven us here but who was sleeping-?"

"Oh, him. Yes, he came walking in a couple of days ago-with all
kinds of excuses and stories. Ian gave him a good scolding-like one
would scold a child. Then Mrs. McLain filled the fellow up with roast
duck and baking powder biscuits."

`Mrs. McLain?"

"Didn't I tell you? There is a Mrs. McLain after all."

My face must have beamed. I could hardly wait now for the opportunity to go into the settlement for my first visit. It would be so nice
to have a chat with another woman. Perhaps I would even be able to
invite her for tea on one of the afternoons when Wynn was away. It
would help to fill in a long day.

"What is she like?"

"I haven't met her. I just overheard McLain telling about the wayward team driver and the lecture and then her feeding him."

Attempting to picture Mrs. McLain, I began by imagining a woman my age, then quickly amended that. If she were married to
McLain, she must be a good deal older than I.

"Do they have a family?" I queried.

"I havent heard."

"Well, I'll find out all about them when I go to the store," I said,
quite satisfied with the thought of my new venture.

Over our breakfast the next morning, I shared with Wynn my
revised plans of going to the store that afternoon. He seemed pleased
that I was making the attempt to get acquainted.

"What can I say?" I asked him.

He looked puzzled. "What do you mean, what can you say?"

"Well, I can't just march in there and announce that I came to meet
his wife."

Wynn smiled. "I'm not sure that would be so bad. People would
be pleased to think that you are anxious to meet them. But-if you are
hesitant to do that, do your purchasing first; and then, if you have a
chance for a little chat with McLain, you shouldn't feel enbarrassed to
mention the fact that you are most anxious to meet his wife."

"Purchases? I hadn't thought of purchasing anything."

"There must be something there you could use. Look around a
bit."

I hesitated. Wynn looked at me questioningly.

I went on, slowly, picking out the words to voice my concern.

"You said it's a trading post, right? Well, I've never been-I've never
bought anything at a trading post. I don't know how to ... I've never
traded for things before. What do I trade? I don't have any furs or-"

Wynn began to laugh. He reached out and lifted my chin and
kissed me on the nose, but the laughter was still in his eyes. I knew I
had just showed my city breeding. I either could get angry with Wynn
for laughing at me or choose to laugh with him. For a moment I was
very tempted to be angry. Then I remembered my father's prayer-the
part about humor for the difficult times-and I began to laugh with
Wynn. Well, not laugh really, but at least I smiled. "I take it I'm offtrack?"

He smiled and kissed my nose again. `A little. It's true that it's a
trading post and that the trappers bring their furs there. But Mr. McLain is very happy to accept good hard cash as well. However, for
you that won't even be necessary. We have a charge account there with
Mr. McLain. You pick what you need and he will enter it in his little
book under my name. I also would like you to keep an account of
what you spend, so I can enter it in my little book. That way, when
Mr. McLain and I settle up each month, hopefully our accounts will
agree."

I nodded. It all seemed simple enough.

After Wynn was gone, I hurried with the laundry. Wynn had
already filled every available pail and the boiler that sat heating on our
wood-burning stove.

The clothes were all hand-scrubbed on a galvanized board we had
brought with us from Calgary. On any other laundry day I would have
taken my time, but today I was so excited about the prospects of meeting Mrs. McLain that I rushed through everything. I was hoping to
finish the wash around noon. Then I would have time to walk down
to the store while the clothes dried on the outside lines.

Wynn did not come home for the noon meal, so I had a simple
lunch and then hurried to tidy myself for my trip to the store. I was
still a bit concerned as to exactly how to approach the subject of meeting Mr. McLain's wife. Maybe if I was really lucky, she would be in the
store as well.

The afternoon was a bit breezy and my carefully groomed hair
threatened to be undone from its pinning. I had chosen one of the best
dresses I had brought along. It swished in the loose dirt of the trail into
the settlement. I held my hat with one hand and my skirt up with the
other.

Many small, sometimes shabby, shacks lined the sides of the clearing as I neared the store. They were not placed in any regular pattern
but rather built wherever a man had a mind to build. Some had smoke
streaming forth through small chimney pipes. Some of them had no
chimney pipe, and the smoke billowed instead out of unglassed windows. Children of various sizes and states of dress played in the dusty
areas surrounding them, stopping to stare at me out of dark eyes in
round brown faces. Dogs seemed to be everywhere. Some of them
looked ferocious, and I was glad a few of the meaner-looking ones were tied up. I dared not imagine what might happen if they were given
their freedom. Once or twice I took a brief detour in order to stay a
little farther away from a dog that didn't seem to be friendly.

The little children weren't too, friendly either. I smiled at many of
them, but the expression on the small faces did not change. I could not
blame them. To them I must have looked strange indeed with my
piled-up, reddish-gold hair and my long, full skirt swishing at the
ground as I walked. I decided that the next time I ventured forth I
would wear something less conspicuous, but this time I had so wanted
to make a favorable impression on the settlement's only other white
woman.

When I reached the Hudson's Bay Store, Mr. McLain was busy
with another customer. The man did not look totally white nor did he
look totally Indian. I assumed this was one of the mixed race people
who Wynn had said were common in the North. He spoke English,
even though rather brokenly, and there were some words mixed in with
it that I did not understand. Mr. McLain seemed to have no difficulty.
The two got along just fine. In fact, Mr. McLain himself also interchanged his English with words I had never heard before.

Mr. McLain spoke to the man and then moved my way. "Goodday to ya, ma am," he said with a big smile, "an' may I be helpin' ya
with something?"

"I'll need a while to look," I assured him. "You go right ahead with
your customer. I'm in no hurry."

He nodded to me and went back to the other man.

I looked around the store. Wynn had been right. I was surprised at
the amount and variety of merchandise carried. I was also shocked at
the prices. Three times I selected something from the shelf, and three
times my frugal nature made me put it back. I was about ready to give
up and leave the place in embarrassment when I spotted some tacks.
Now, I did need some tacks. They, too, were expensive; but as I truly
did need them and as I couldn't possibly get them from anywhere else,
I decided to buy them.

I had just made my selection when the other customer left the store
and Mr. McLain came my way.

"Have ya found what you're needin'?" he boomed.

"Yes. Yes, I think these will be just fine," I fairly stammered.

Mr. McLain led the way to the counter. I laid the box of tacks on
the wooden square by the cash box. They looked very small and insignificant.

"And will this be all?" asked Mr. McLain.

I guessed he was used to his customers coming in and buying supplies to last them for many weeks. Here I was buying only a box of
tacks. It must seem to him very much like a wasted trip. I flushed.

"I'm still not settled enough to know my needs," I tried to explain,
"and we brought most of our supplies with us." Then I wondered if
that was good news to a man who ran the only local store. I flushed
more deeply. "I-I mean-we'll certainly be needing many things as
the winter sets in and all-"

Mr. McLain seemed not to notice my discomfiture.

"Everything in good shape at the cabin?" he asked.

"Fine," I answered, not too sure just what he meant. "Just fine."

"The man before you wasn't much of a housekeeper," he commented. "I had to send one of the trappers' wives over to sorta sweep
out the place after he left. The fella before him-now, he was some
fussy. Made the men take their boots off when they went to his
office-finally got so many complaints, the department said he had to
stop it." Mr. McLain shook his head. "He was some fussy all right, that
one.

I appreciated his consideration in sending over a woman to clean
our cabin. I had thought it dirty when I arrived-I couldn't imagine
what it might have been before.

As Mr. McLain talked, he got out a big black book and flipped to
a page marked "Delaney, R.N.W.P." and began to make an entry.
There were already several items listed on the page. In my brief glance
I noticed some of them were to do with lumber-probably the building the two men constructed for us.

I took one more glance around the room and then let my mind go
back to Mrs. McLain. How did I broach the subject of meeting the
trader's wife? Mr. McLain solved the problem for me.