by F. M. Parker
“I’ve heard there’re wolves and bears in the woods that eat people,” another girl said.
“I’ve heard there’re panthers too,” said a third girl.
“God will protect all of you,” Sister Evangeline said stoutly.
“He hasn’t protected me in my life,” Opal said. “And that’s why I’m here.”
Opal spoke to Alice. “Has God protected you, Alice? Will he protect us in Minnesota?”
“God didn’t protect my friend Gracie and she died last night.”
“I’m sorry your friend died,” Opal said in a sympathetic voice. She paused. “Maybe there isn’t a God,” she said and her voice rising.
“Don’t blaspheme,” Sister Evangeline exclaimed in a frightened and scolding tone. “God will strike you down.”
“God doesn’t protect girls living on the street,” another girl said angrily. “He didn’t protect me when that gang of boys dragged me into an alley and did hurtful things to me. When I fought them to make them stop, they hit me and hit me. Nobody came to help me.” She turned her face down and stared at the floor.
Opal spoke to Alice. “Do you think there’s a God now after Gracie died?”
“The nearest thing to God that I’ve seen in America is Sister Marie,” Alice said harshly, and ignoring Sister Evangeline’s warning that she could be struck down.
“You shouldn’t say that,” Sister Evangeline said quickly.
“What? That Sister Marie is a good person?”
“No, not that. That God doesn’t exist.”
“For you maybe he does exist.” Alice wanted to ease the harshness of her remark.
She didn’t want to talk any more. She stepped past the sister and went toward her cot to prepare for the train journey to that land called Minnesota with its snow and bears and wolves and panthers. She didn’t like the feel of that future.
*
From her seat in the passenger coach of the train hurrying westward from New York, Alice watched out of the window at a land battered by a powerful blizzard. Snow covered the roofs of the farm house and barn, and the wide fields with their fences. In one field she saw three horses standing with their rumps turned to the storm. The thick winter hair of their backs carried a blanket of snow. Huge drifts were forming at the base of the fence paralleling the railroad tracks. The frigid scenes made Alice shiver. She was glad for the coal burning heating stove radiating its warmth from the center of the coach.
The train consisted of the engine and two coaches, one for the passengers and the second for dining. The passenger coach was shared by the boys and girls, the girls having the front half. A curtain was drawn to separate the two halves. Now and again Alice heard boys shouting and wondered what had caused it. The girls were subdued and talked in muted voices.
The seats were in pairs and faced each other. Alice and Opal occupied one seat and two other larger girls, Bertha and Jeanine, the opposite seat. Their small pieces of luggage were stored below their seats. The girls had talked together at first. Now Opal read a book and the other two sat silently and watching the countryside.
They had eaten lunch in the dining car. As for sleeping, Sister Marie had explained that when night came, a bed now folded up against the ceiling would be lowered half way down, and a second bed would be made from the pair of seats. Curtains would enclose the beds. Two girls would share each one. Alice knew that with food and a bed provided for each boy and girl the cost must be substantial. She remembered Sister Marie telling the policeman that this was the last train to take orphans west due to lack of money.
She closed her eyes and listened to the clickety-clack of the coach wheels. Every clickety-clack meant she was being carried ever closer to a place where unknown people would decide her future. Oh, how she wished that her mother and father were still alive. She stood up, and opening her satchel lying on the rack above the seat, removed the poem book. Adding a verse to the book might make her feel a little closer to her dear mother and father, and to Gracie. She seated her self and began to write.
Alone.
By and with just one.
The first number after none.
Will there ever be two,
Me and you?
Or always alone?
Alone.
“What are you writing?” Sister Marie asked. She had come close without Alice having noticed. “Or is it personal?”
Alice broke from deep concentration on her writing and looked up at the sister smiling down at her. She didn’t want to show the poem for it expressed her private feelings. However the sister had been kind to her. She held the page up for the sister to read.
Sister Marie read the words and her face saddened. She leaned close to Alice and whispered. “Too much sorrow is bad for the body and soul. You will have a fine life, Alice. God will see to that.”
Sister Marie turned away and went back through the coach.
Alice stared after the sister. You are the one that may have set me on the path for a good life, Alice thought. She dozed off.
“Alice, I have somebody who could use your help.”
Alice roused to see Sister Marie with a little girl three to four years old with black hair, very pale skin and a lovely bow shaped mouth. Her eyes were soft brown, and at the moment were shadowed with worry about what was happening to her. She clutched her canvas satchel holding her inspection clothing and stared bashfully at Alice
“This is Della, “Sister Marie said. “She needs some older girl to see that she is properly cared for. Would you do that for her?”
“Yes, oh, yes, Sister Marie. I’d be glad to.” Alice was pleased that she had been chosen to tend to the girl. She gave the tyke a smile and reached out and pulled her close. The girl came willing.
Alice spoke softly to Della. “I don’t have a little sister. Would you be my sister and we’ll ride the train together. We’ll talk and tell stories.”
Della nodded and pressed her face against Alice’s breast.
“She’ll have to sleep with you and Opal,” Sister Marie said.
“That’s all right, isn’t it Opal?”
“I just hope she doesn’t pee on me,” said Opal.
Della looked angrily at Opal. “I don’t pee the bed,” she said proudly.
“That’s telling her,” Alice said and liking Della for her spunk. “Hop up here on the seat between Opal and me.”
Della climbed into the seat and scooted away from Opal and close to Alice.
“Will I always be your sister and live with you for always”
“We’ll have to see what happens when we get to Minnesota,” Alice replied.
“But I want to know now,” said Della and frowning.
“I know, but I can’t answer you now,”
“I don’t like to wait,” Della said looking up into Alice’s face. “Would Sister Marie know?”
“I don’t think so. It’ll depend on the people who choose us.”
“Maybe if I wish real hard, that’ll help us live together.”
“You do that,” Alice said, not believing wishing made any difference in what would happen in the future. She caught hold of Della’s hand and it snuggled in her larger hand like a little, warm animal. That trusting action make Alice feel stronger.
Chapter Six
Black Face’s Quest
Black Face lay resting in the snow near the trunk of a birch and studied the members of the wolf pack that ranged along the Rainy River. From his home range, Black Face had traveled twenty miles north through the forest lying along the Rapid River. He had crossed the river on its frozen breast near its junction with the Rainy River. Then he had journeyed for nearly another twenty miles searching for this most unfriendly band of wolves. He had found them lazing about in an opening in the forest after killing a deer and feasting. His arrival was now an hour past. He was savoring the scent of the young female with the brown and gray coat and the unusual marking of a white patch on her throat. She was standing a few body lengths away and intently watching him.
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br /> Black Face had made his appearance openly and drawing close enough to easily see and scent the Rainy River wolves. There he settled down to evaluate the females of the pack. The dominant male, a big, gray coated wolf, had wanted none of Black Face’s presence and had come toward him with hackles raised and growling threateningly and ready to fight and drive away the interloper. Black Face stood his ground, made no sound and held the eyes of the pack leader. He would fight if it became necessary; however he would not be driven away until the purpose of his long trek was satisfied. With but a distance of a long leap separating them, the gray wolf had changed his mind about fighting the large stranger by himself and instead had led the other males of the pack in a charge upon Black Face. Knowing the group of wolves could and would rip him to pieces, Black Face had raced away through the forest.
He gave them a speedy, three mile chase, and all the time gradually circling back toward the place where it had started. Each time he chanced to pass through an open area, he looked to the rear to check the nearness of his pursuers. He played with them, allowing the swiftest to draw close, then putting on a burst of speed and putting safe space between them.
Black Face returned to the exact starting place of the chase and stopped and waited for his pursuers. When they appeared, he moved off a short distance along the previous path of the chase, and faced about to see if they wanted another three mile run over the same ground.
The leader of the River Pack gave Black Face a hostile stare, but did not approach. After eyeing Black Face for a short time, the leader made a threatening growl, turned about and guided his followers back to the females lying and observing the action of the males.
Black Face returned to his original place of observing the wolves and, after standing alert for a few seconds and watching the pack leader, sat down in the snow and turned his attention to the young female. The dominant male and female kept wary eyes upon him, and so did the other adults. None came out to challenge him. The young quickly lost interest in the motionless stranger and began to frolic in play.
The wind had carried the scents of the eighteen wolves making up the pack to Black Face. He now had each wolf identified visually and by his or her distinct scent. He separated out and concentrated on the scent of the dominant female. His instinct told him that she was too old for the purpose of his plan and so she did not interest him. His attention had shifted to this handsome two year old female. She had detached herself from the others and come a few steps in Black Face’s direction, where she now stood and looking at him. Her ears were pricked forward and her tail wagged slowly showing friendliness.
Black Face breathed in her smell, and admiring her sleek, shiny coat. The instinct that had told him the dominant female was too old, now told him that this female was healthy and strong.
The pack leader made a threatening growl at the young female. She did not respond to the warning and continued to stare at Black Face and wag her tail. The leader growled more fiercely. The young female’s tail stopped wagging and she sank down to lie on her stomach in the snow. She still showed her interest in Black Face and their eyes talked across the distance separating them.
Black Face broke eye contact with the female and checked the remaining members of the pack. There were fewer of them than had been present a few minutes before. Some of the males were missing. Black Face rose and ranged his sight through the woods behind him. It was a wolf’s practice for a portion of a pack to get between its prey and its safety before the remaining members attacked. His enemies were closing off his escape route.
He again looked at the alluring female and drew in her scent one last time. He gave her two friendly “woofs”, a promise that he would return. With that statement of his intention, Black Face broke into a run toward his home territory.
After running a short distance, he flung a quick look over his shoulder and saw four males had come out of the forest and onto the path that he had just crossed over. They were no danger to him. He slowed to a trot that he could maintain for all the long distance to his home territory. A pleasant sense of anticipation warmed his wolf’s heart. Regardless of the danger from the males of the River Pack, he would soon come again and take the young female from them and start his own following of sons and daughters.
*
Half way back on his journey to his home range, Black Face came to the frozen Rainy River. As he trotted out onto the ice to cross to the opposite side, he saw two humans on the ice just upriver a few hundred feet. On the shore near them, a black horse stood hitched to a sled. A dog lay on the front of the sled. One of the humans was bending at the waist and then straightening, and repeating the motion again and again, and always moving very slowly backward. The second human was shoveling snow off the ice. The nearness of the humans and their movements brought the wolf to a stop.
One of the humans appeared familiar to Black Face and he tried to catch his scent, but the wind came from the wrong direction. Held by his curiosity regarding the actions of the humans, Black Face sat down on the ice and lingered, watching them.
*
Paul worked steadily, bending at the waist and straightening and performing the motion again and again as he pulled the six foot ice saw up and down at a steep angle with most of its length first in the water and then most of it in the air. He was cutting blocks of ice from the half foot thick sheet of it floating on the Rainy River near his home. The saw was made of iron and wood, and designed to cut the ice into blocks of a size that could be lifted from the water. The iron part of the saw was forty two inches in length with teeth an inch and a quarter long. Bolted to the upper end of the saw was a wooden handle shaped to be held by both hands. Paul kept the teeth of the saw very sharp for easy cutting. The saw had been passed down from his grandfather to his father and now Paul.
He had selected a section of the river for ice harvesting where a section of the current had splintered off from the main flow and eddied and ran less swiftly and so the ice had grown thicker than in other places. To allow the ice to grow an even greater thickness, his mother was shoveling the newly fallen snow off the ice close by. Snow insulated the water from the air that was below zero.
The block upon which Paul had been sawing came loose from the ice sheet. He grabbed up the ice hook lying nearby and snagged the block and with a strong heave, hoisted the block out of the water and upon the rigid sheet.
He turned to his mother, Heather, bundled up in the winter clothing. She had recognized the sound of the block coming out of the water and had halted her shoveling and was looking at him. Her lovely face displayed a fine flush from the cold and the exertion of the shoveling. She gave him one of her delightful mother’s smiles.
As always, Paul couldn’t help but smile back. He admired his mother very much. She had worked side by side with his father and now by Paul’s side. More than her willingness to work alongside her men folk was her wisdom.
That first winter when there was but the two of them, she had taken fourteen year old Paul, and from the combined knowledge the two of them had acquired by working with his father, they had reestablished his trap line, setting the steel traps and the snares made with steel wire and the deadfalls made of logs. The bait, usually a portion of a rabbit, was placed in such a location as to entice a desired fur bearing animal to come to a trap to find a meal, and there be caught. The work of setting the traps was hazardous, the running the trap line and harvesting the pelts was even more so. A trapped animal in severe pain from its injury, would strike out with claws and teeth. During that frigid first winter, they had taken the pelts of several animals. In the second and following winters, Paul ran the trap line by himself.
Paul did some quick calculation and decided his mother was thirty six years old. What did she think about during the long days when he was gone off on the trap line, or away at school? Did she get lonely? Wasn’t she too young to spend the rest of her life on the farm without a husband? What about when he left and went away, and he would be leaving in the early
fall to study at the university in Winnipeg? They had saved nearly enough money for the first year of schooling.
Maybe there was a situation developing that would answer the questions about his mother. When he had arrived home from the trap line the following evening, he had observed that she had had a visitor who came in a horse drawn sleigh. The visitor had remained for a substantial period of time. Paul knew that from the amount of snow that had been packed down by the hooves of the horse where it had been tied to the garden fence. Paul counted the number of sleigh tracks and found four and knew that not only had the visitor stayed for s spell, but had gone for a sleigh ride and returned.
Mr. Torgerson, the owner of the ice company, had a high stepping pacing horse that could cover five miles an hour, and so the trip from Diston would have taken but a little over an hour. Paul had seen the man and his mother talking together in Diston, and from their expressions, the conversation seemed to be a pleasant one. So if the man was Mr. Torgerson, then his mother would have certainly been on the sleigh ride with him. Paul hoped the ride behind the pacing horse along the wooded lane and on the country road with the farm houses and fields had been an enjoyable time for her.
His mother had not mentioned the visitor, which was all right with Paul. He wanted her to be happy. He knew that his father would also have wanted her to be happy.
“Mom, it’d be a nice day for a sleigh ride,” Paul said to show her that he knew and approved.
“It was a nice day yesterday for a sleigh ride too,” Heather said.
Paul laughed and knowing that a complete understanding had occurred between them.
“It looks like you’ve cut about enough blocks for a load and I’ve got the snow shoveled off the ice,” his mother said. “So I’ll go and start supper.”
“All right, mom.”
His mother carried the shovel to the river bank and there stuck it upright in the snow ready and handy for the next snow storm. As she passed the sled where Brutus lay watching the action of the two from a pallet of straw, she stopped and leaned down close and rubbed his powerful jaws with both hands. She whispered to Brutus. “You big rascal, always take good care of my son.” She playfully thumped the dog on his ribs with both hands. Brutus was pleased at the touch of Heather’s hands and gave her a “Woof”. He watched after her as she hastened away toward the house and barn which sat some hundred steps away upon a bluff above the river and out of its reach during the spring floods from snow melt and rains. She was the only human, other than his master, that Brutus allowed to lay hands upon him.
