[Canadian West 02] - When Comes the Spring (8 page)

"Tell me about Banff," I said rather dreamily as we walked along
in the sunshine.

"As far as the white man is concerned, this is a very young town,"
responded Wynn. "Of course, the Indian people have known the area
for many years. Explorers came through the area first. They came and
went and didn't pay too much attention, except to admire the beauty,
until in the 1880s when the railroad arrived and the small town of
Banff was born."

"And people loved it and just couldn't stay away," I ventured.

"Well, what really brought the visitors was the discovery of the
mineral hot springs in 1883. And then, those who knew people and
knew investment built and opened the Banff Springs Hotel to care for
the trade. The hotel was billed as `The Finest on the North American
Continent' and was visited by tourists from all over the world."

`And here I get to spend my honeymoon in this famous hotel," I
interrupted, excited by the thought.

"People have always been fascinated with mountains; and all the
unclimbed, unconquered, and uncharted mountains have brought
many climbers to see if they could be the first ones to the summits.
They brought in experienced Swiss guides to help attract mountaineers,
and the area was soon famous."

"I think it's still rather-" I paused for the right word. "Rustic," I
finally decided.

Wynn smiled at my choice. "Yes," he agreed. "I guess that's part of
its charm. The ruggedness, the trail guides, the fur traders-they all
mingle on the streets with the wealthy from around the world. While
we've walked, have you noticed all the different languages around us?"

I had noticed. It was rather exhilarating, like being in a foreign
country.

I sighed deeply. "There are so many things I would like to see that
I don't know where to begin," I told Wynn. "We have such a short
time."

"We'll plan carefully," he assured me. "Right now, let's start with
some place to eat."

As we ate our evening meal in the luxurious hotel restaurant, I
heard the people at the table next to ours discussing a hike they had
taken that day and the sights they had seen.

"Could we?-" I asked Wynn. "Could we go? Please? I would so
love to really see the mountains, not just the town."

"Why not?" Wynn smiled. "It's a bit of a climb, but I'm sure we
could do it. It will be very exhausting, especially at these heights, but
worth it."

"When?"

"Let's do it tomorrow."

I clapped like an eager child, then quickly checked myself; it was
too undignified for a married woman.

For the rest of the meal, we discussed our plans for the next morning. I planned to be up bright and early so we would get a good start.

When we went back to our room, Wynn said he had a few arrangements to make. He had mentioned having the kitchen prepare us a
lunch to be taken along on the trail, so I nodded and set about looking
over my long skirts to decide what I would be able to wear the next day. In spite of the rigors of the trail, I did want to look good for
Wynn. No man wants a plain or shabby bride. I found a skirt I thought
would do. It was stylish enough to be becoming but not too full to
inhibit my walking. Then I selected my shoes. None of them were
really made for a long hike, but I did have one pair with me that wasn't
too uncomfortable or flimsy.

After I had made my selections, I ran a nice warm bath, humming
to myself. I would take a leisurely bath while Wynn was gone. My
thoughts were filled with anticipation for the coming day and the glorious climb we would have together. I prayed for good weather. I
wanted to look out from some lofty peak at the beautiful, tree-covered
valleys beneath me.

I soon heard Wynn return and stir about our room. I hurried then.
I remembered I had left my clothes for the hike spread out on the
room's most comfortable chair, the one Wynn might be wishing to use.
Wrapped snuggly in my new white robe, I hurried out, intending to
move the skirt and other articles of clothing. They were gone. Wynn
now occupied the chair. One glance told me that Wynn had hung the
clothing carefully back in the closet.

"Oh, thank you," I managed, but I was a bit embarrassed that he
might think I was messy and careless. "I wasn't planning to leave it
there," I hastened to explain. "I was just trying to smooth out some of
the wrinkles for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" He looked questioningly at me. "I'm afraid by the
time we have our hike tomorrow, there won't be time for anything
else."

"That's what I mean. For the hike."

Wynn looked surprised.

"That outfit-for the hike?"

I was a bit taken aback, but stammered, "It's all I brought that was
suitable, really. I thought the other dresses too fancy to be walking in."

"You're right. So is that one," he said, with a nod toward the skirt
still visible through the open closet door.

"But it's all I've got," I argued.

"I got you something." Wynn sounded quite confident.

"You got me a dress?"

"Not a dress."

"Well-skirt, then?"

"No skirt. You can't climb a mountain with a skirt swishing about
your legs, Elizabeth."

"Then-" I was puzzled and a bit apprehensive by this time.

"Pants."

"Pants?"

"That's right."

"I've never worn pants in my life," I blurted out, emphasizing the
word with some disfavor.

"Then this will be a first," said Wynn, completely unflustered, nodding his head toward the bed.

I followed his gaze. There, tossed on our bed in a rather awkward
and haphazard fashion, was a pair of men's pants. They were an ugly
color and very wrinkled, and I almost collapsed in shock as I looked at
them.

"Those?" I gasped.

Wynn was now catching on. He stood to his feet. His eyes sought
my face. He must have read my honest horror, for his voice became
soft.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he apologized sincerely. "I guess I didn't
think how they would look to you. They are rather a mess, aren't they?"
I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes as he crossed to the
bed and picked up the pants he had just purchased. He awkwardly
began to smooth out the wrinkles with his man-sized hands. I felt
repentant. I reached to take them from him.

"It's all right," I said, not wanting to hurt Wynn. "I could press the
wrinkles out. It's not that. It's just that-that I couldn't go out-I
couldn't be seen wearing something like that-in public and all-I-"
I stammered to a stop.

Wynn said nothing but continued to stroke his hands across the
coarse fabric of the pants. The wrinkles refused to give up possession.

"My skirt will be fine, Wynn; but thank you for thinking about-"

Wynn looked at me evenly and didn't allow me to go on. "You
cannot climb a mountain in a skirt, Elizabeth. Those are not just hiking trails. They are steep. They are dangerous. You cannot possibly go
without proper clothing."

Sudden anger flared within me. "And you call that `proper cloth ing'?" I responded, jerking a thumb at the disgusting pants.

"For what we intend to do, yes."

"Well, I won't wear them," I said, a bit too quickly.

Wynn tossed them into a chair. "Very well," he said, and his voice
was calm.

I had won. I wasn't sure if I should be happy or sad. It was our
first little tiff and I had won. Now, as a wife, how was I to win graciously? I sought for words, for ways to show Wynn that I would not
expect to win every battle. I didn't know what to say, so I crossed the
room and began to take down my hair and brush it with long, easy
strokes. The tension remained within me, even though Wynn seemed
untroubled.

I stole a glance at him. He was reading a paper. He must have
bought it, too, when he had gone out for the pants. I noticed a pair of
brown hoots sitting on the floor by the bed. I started to ask Wynn
about them and then realized how small they were. They would never
fit Wynn. What were they doing in our room? Then it dawned on me:
Wynn had purchased them, not for himself but for me for me to wear
on my hike up the mountain! Not just the unsightly pants, but the
mannish boots as well. How could he even have considered being seen
with a woman in such outlandish attire?

I was stroking so hard with the hairbrush that I winced with the
pain of it. I couldn't imagine a man even thinking such a ridiculous
thing. Well, my skirt and shoes would be just fine. I wouldn't be caught
traipsing around on my honeymoon looking so utterly unkempt and
ridiculous.

Someone had to break the silence of the room.

"What time do we leave?" I asked innocently. We had already
established a time, but I had to say something.

"Where?" said Wynn, lowering his paper.

"Up the mountain," I replied with some impatience.

Wynn was slow in answering. "Elizabeth, I'm afraid I'm guilty of
not fully explaining our trip up the mountain." He laid the paper aside
and rose to his full height. I felt dwarfed beside him.

"Parts of the trail are very steep. It's tough climbing. One doesn't
need ropes, but one does need to be very careful. A fall could mean
serious injury."

"You told me that. I'll be careful. I promise."

"Coming back down, there are parts of the trail where it is wise to
sit down and ease yourself down over some of the steeper spots."

He looked at. me to be sure I was understanding what he was saying. I nodded that I understood.

"There are places so steep that you need to use the branches of the
nearby trees and the handgrips of the rocks to help boost yourself up."

I remembered that Wynn had told me that before, as well. I nodded again.

"It's a long way up to the mountain lake. It's a long, hard climb."

"Just what are you trying to say, Wynn?" I demanded. "Do you
think I don't have the endurance to make the climb?"

"No," he said evenly. "I think you could make it. We wouldn't need
to hurry. I could help you whenever you needed it-if you needed it.
It would be my pleasure."

I thought of our much-talked-about trip up the mountainside. I
thought of Wynn's description of the beautiful mountain lake. I
thought of sharing the sack lunch way up there in the isolation of the
mountains. The thoughts stirred my emotions. I was more anxious
than ever to go.

"So when should we leave?" I asked again.

Wynn took a deep breath and looked squarely at me. "I'm afraid
we won't be going, Elizabeth."

My hand stopped midstroke. I stared at him incredulously. What
was he doing? Punishing me for winning? But Wynn didn't seem the
type to retaliate. Yet Mother had always said you don't know a person
until you live with him. So this was Wynn? I couldn't believe it.

"Not going?" I finally choked out. "Why?"

"You can't climb a mountain in a dress, Elizabeth; and you have
refused to wear the pants," he stated calmly and finally.

So I hadn't won. Wynn had agreed to the "no pants," but he hadn't
agreed to the "no pants" and the mountain hike.

"That's silly," I almost hissed. "I've been in a dress all my life, and
I've never been a casualty yet."

"You've never climbed a mountain yet," was his matter-of-fact
response.

"And I guess I'm not about to now," I threw back at him. Even I
was surprised at the intensity of my words.

"I'm sorry," was all he said. He turned and went back to his paper.
I continued to briskly brush my hair. It didn't need it. I had brushed it
quite enough already, but I didn't know what else to do with myself.

My thoughts whirled in a confused state. I had heard of first quarrels. I knew that Wynn was not one to be pushed around. But this was
such a silly little thing to be fighting over. Surely he doesn't expect me to
give in and wear those ridiculous and unsightly pants! No man who loved
his wife would ask such a thing. I bristled even more. W4 Mother
would be ashamed to own me were she to see me in such an outfit! Wynn
understood nothing about women's dress and propriety.

Finally Wynn laid aside the paper. I knew he really hadn't been
concentrating on it-just hiding behind it.

"You're angry with me, aren't you, Elizabeth?" His voice sounded
so contrite that I prepared myself for his change of mind. I did not
answer. I didn't yet trust my voice.

"Do you realize that we have been married for one whole day and
we have already had a disagreement?" asked Wynn softly.

I still did not answer.

"I really wasn't prepared for this," stated Wynn. "Not yet, at any
rate. I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I do love you-you know that. I love you
very much and I do wish this hadn't happened." He spoke so sincerely
that I laid aside the brush. Maybe he wasn't so stubborn after all. I was
quite ready to make up and forgive and forget. Men didn't understand
about women's concern for how they looked, that was all. Now that
Wynn knew, there wouldn't be any future fusses on that score.

I crossed to him and put my arms around his neck. He pulled me
down on his lap and held me close. I returned his kiss and ran my
fingers through his thick, dark hair. I loved him. He was my husband
and I loved him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "Truly I am. I acted like a spoiled child
and I'm-I don't usually act so silly. I guess I was just terribly disappointed."

He kissed me again, holding me very close. I could scarcely
breathe, but I didn't mind.

I traced the outline of his firm jaw with a finger. "What time would
you like me to be ready?" I whispered.

"You won't be too embarrassed at being seen in men's pants?"

I started, then stood up, pushing away his arms.

"Wynn," I said firmly. "I am not wearing those pants!"

He stood up, too, and said just as firmly, "Elizabeth, if you are not
wearing the pants, then we are not going up that mountain. Do I make
myself clear? I will not take you over those dangerous trails, sweeping
along a skirt behind you. You could fall and kill yourself. It's the pants,
or not at all, Elizabeth. You decide."