Footsteps in the Snow

by Carol Matas

  “But I am your mother,” I objected.

  “No, you are my sister,” he said.

  April 28

  We are making preparations to leave. James Sutherland, the Church elder who performed the first marriages, is to perform this ceremony before we go, so that White Loon will be part of our family by the time we return to The Forks.

  Evening

  White Loon and I had a long talk this afternoon. We speak in a mixture of English and Cree, but naturally I cannot write the Cree down here so I will write it all as if it were in English.

  “We are friends, Isobel, yes?” she asked.

  “I thought we were …” I answered. “But how could you be my friend,” I blurted out, “when you are taking my father away?”

  She looked at me for a long time and then took my hand. “No,” she said, softly, “I give him back to you.”

  I stared at her. “Do you mean you won’t marry him after all?”

  She shook her head, obviously searching for words. “I mean he is not happy alone. He needs a wife. When he has a wife he will be a good father again, happy.”

  “But I have been taking care of him,” I snapped. “He doesn’t need anyone else. He has a family and we keep together and take care of one another.”

  She nodded. “You are too good. You work hard all day. The only time you played was when we were on the prairie with the buffalo. And then you were happy. You are still young. Too young to be a mother. Be a good hardworking daughter. That is enough.”

  “I have a mother,” I grumbled.

  “Then I will not be your mother.” She smiled. “I will be your friend, as always. And with James, he maybe is too old for another mother. But Robbie is not. And your father is too young to be without a wife.”

  Then I realized that I have been thinking only of myself, not of Father at all. He is happy now, but why was I not enough to make him happy? I still cannot seem to accept this.

  April 30

  This afternoon my father married White Loon. It was a beautiful warm day. There are still a few inches of snow on the ground, which proved beneficial for the ceremony because beneath the snow is only mud. Instead of a muddy miserable place, Fort Daer looked at its best today. It is true the snow is no longer white, rather a pale grey, but there was a definite smell and feel of spring.

  The entire settlement turned out for the ceremony. The Indians also attended, bringing fresh meat. The ceremony was held outside. After it was over we ate and Jasper McKay played at the pipes. Everyone danced. I could not. White Loon asked me to stand up with her but I refused. Her mother and Alice stood with her. Robbie and James stood with Father. After the celebrations had been going on for a while White Loon and Father left for a short trip away on their own. They will be back in two days. Meanwhile James is in charge of the family.

  I feel nothing. The entire day went by as if I were in a dream. Why am I — and Kate — the only one who thinks this is so wrong? Father tried to speak to me many times over the last few days, but I had nothing to say to him.

  What should I say? You betrayed my mother? You betrayed me?

  May 1816

  May 2

  Father and White Loon have returned and now, of course, White Loon is living with us. I must admit that already she is taking a large burden from me. I have never wanted to complain in these pages, especially as I feel I am writing to Mother as well as to myself, and I wouldn’t want to blame Mother in any way for leaving me in charge, but it has been difficult taking care of Father and two boys all by myself. I must clean the cabin, cook, sew and mend and somehow take care of Robbie’s education. It is this latter task that has suffered the most. Robbie spends all his time with his friends, playing, and no time at all with his studies. I have been very worried about this. But now White Loon has taken over the cooking and only needs me to help with the cleaning, which gives me time to spend with Robbie. I suppose this is a good thing. She is as friendly as ever and does not seem to resent me for my ungracious behaviour. If I were her I would be furious with me. Father is smiling and making jokes. He still wishes to speak to me. I may have to speak to him. We leave in two days for The Forks.

  May 3

  James has sat me down and given me a talking to. “You are behaving like a child,” he said to me. “Father loves White Loon.”

  “Why did he stop loving Mother so quickly?” I asked.

  “Of course he hasn’t,” James replied. “He will always love Mother. But she will never come back. I thought you liked White Loon.”

  “I did until I found out she was after Father,” I replied.

  James laughed. “She was never after him,” he said. “Oh, you’re too young to understand.”

  I am not too young!

  May 4

  Tomorrow we start our trip back to The Forks. I will not be able to write again until we arrive. Robbie is riding back with one of White Loon’s brothers. He’s so excited he can barely contain himself. The rest of us will walk.

  May 15

  We have been staying at Fort Douglas in a tent ever since we arrived back at The Forks. And we have been building the new cabin. I often find myself just standing and looking out over the prairie where we will soon finally have our home. We had to leave so quickly in the winter that I never saw where we would live and now it is a wonderful surprise. Father says this land is perfect for farming, and the settlers who left for Upper Canada had already begun clearing it.

  I remember the feelings I had on the ship of being closed in, and I rejoice that I shall never feel that again, for the land seems to go on forever. There are trees, naturally, which break up the vista, but I can sense the expanse around me. Sometimes I feel like running and running and running, my face in the warm wind, knowing that nothing will stop me. Land stretches out around me so that I could run for weeks and never have to stop!

  Today we built the chimney for our house. White Loon’s brothers have been helping us, and once the chimney is finished we will finally be able to move in. First the framework was built of branches. This was held together with a paste made of clay, water and straw. This hardens almost immediately and when we start a fire it will become harder and harder — as good as bricks.

  But let me tell you a little of that trip back to our new home.

  As we walked the prairie seemed to explode in colour around us. There were crocuses everywhere, the colour of the blue sky. Trees and bushes that would bear fruit in a couple of months were covered in blossoms — small white sweet-smelling wild plums, saskatoon bushes, chokecherries and pin cherries — Alice naming them for me as we walked. She also pointed out the strawberry plants and the raspberry and blueberry bushes. The trees appeared to come into leaf as we walked: oak, elm, poplar, cottonwood, ash, maple. The colour of the leaves was a striking young green. It was as if the entire world around us was in a frenzy of excitement crying Spring! Spring! I saw a beautiful red-breasted bird, and there were many red-winged blackbirds, as well as yellow finches, meadowlarks with their beautiful song, and bluejays with their striking markings and horrible squawking.

  I concentrated on the wonders about me, walked with Alice, and tried to ignore my family as much as possible. Kate seemed to decide that she was unwilling to stop bothering me just because of Father’s unsuitable marriage, so the only seeming benefit from that disappeared. She was back to pestering me! She often walked with Alice and me, teasing me and taunting me about White Loon whenever she could, until I found myself defending White Loon and Father.

  It seems that we have certainly gained another family. Jumps took Robbie on his horse, and James was able to travel with Small Beaver. The boys found this terribly exciting. At night we often ate with White Loon’s family at their tipi and if we made camp early we would be included in the games played just before the sun set.

  The game played most by the girls as we travelled was a stick game. Two digging sticks were placed about a foot apart. The girls would stand a few yards back and throw other digging st
icks, trying to get them to land in between the two sticks placed in the dirt. Even when we walked the girls would play — they would just pick any target, a bush or tree, and see who could hit it with a stick. White Loon encouraged Alice and me to play, and as with the other games I discovered I was very good at it. And as before, I loved the feeling of being good at something and the generous way the other girls applauded my skill.

  If the fireplace is deemed to be built correctly we can move into our new cabin within days.

  May 17

  There has been an attack on a Hudson’s Bay Company trader by a man named Cuthbert Grant. He is a Métis leader and a member of the North West Company. Father says that the Nor’Westers dressed like Indians in war paint, and stole all the furs in the trader’s shipment.

  Now Governor Semple has to listen to Colin Robertson about the threat posed by the North West Company. Father hopes he will finally authorize Mr. Robertson to take Duncan Cameron to England for trial on the grounds of treason, using those dreadful letters threatening the colony as proof. Father is terribly worried. Colin Robertson is the only sensible leader, and Father wonders what may happen without his good advice while he’s away in England. Mr. Robertson is still in command of Fort Gibraltar, the Nor’Westers’ Fort, and it seems he will stay there for the present.

  May 25

  I know I have written very little, but there is no time. We moved into our own cabin a week ago and have been so busy that I simply go to sleep at night before I can pick up my pen. Father has put me in charge of the garden, but we had a dreadful time obtaining our seeds. We went to the Company store, set up temporarily in a room in the Fort, and were treated terribly. Father says he may as well still be back in the Highlands to be spoken to that way. It took us two days at the store, going from one official to another and spoken to as if we were lowly servants, until we finally obtained the seed we need: beans, potatoes, carrots and turnips.

  The garden is wonderful work but exhausting. But the black flies are particularly bad. I am covered in bites. We take mud from the river and slather it on. White Loon has made a salve and that helps. Poor Robbie is quite covered in bites. We also have to check for wood ticks every night and then White Loon burns them off with a small branch she sets on fire, and blows out just before sticking it on a creature. They are nasty, as they dig right into your flesh.

  Father is planting oats and wheat. Oh, I am remiss! I have not described our little bit of land here.

  Our plot runs straight back from the river. There is a rough road, or track really, connecting all the farms to the Fort. There is a natural windbreak of poplar. By the river are the most beautiful willows whose branches reach all the way to the ground. Father was able to begin ploughing right away. Unfortunately there are not enough ploughs for all the farmers, so everyone has to share.

  May 26

  Father and a number of the other men have gone to visit Colin Robertson at Fort Gibraltar. The men believe we settlers should stay with him at the Fort until the danger has passed. Every day there are more and more rumours of Métis plotting to destroy our colony. Everyone is worried.

  May 27

  It has been raining for two days and we have been stuck indoors together. (I will not complain again about how I long to be released.) I have had to converse with White Loon. It would be rude to do otherwise, placed together like this for hours on end. As we talked I remembered our friendship, and my heart softened toward her just a little. But I still cannot seem to accept Father’s betrayal of Mother nor White Loon’s new position in the house as wife and mistress. It is true she has not abused her position. She does not order me to do things. What would happen if I did question her organization of the household? And is giving in and liking her just more of what Kate keeps taunting me about — am I becoming a savage myself? Is it not up to me to retain the standards of our old life? Do I not still want to become a lady?

  June 1816

  June 2

  Very disturbing news today. A group of Métis disguised as Indians attacked Brandon House, a Hudson’s Bay Company post north of here. There were approximately forty or fifty men and they flew the new Métis flag — a square of red with a figure eight lying sideways in the centre. They ransacked the Post, forcing all the families to take shelter with the Cree Indians. Nobody was killed, but all the pemmican and tobacco and liquor and ammunition were taken. Father fears the ammunition will be used against us. We’re all very worried. We wonder if we should not go live in the Fort. But Governor Semple will not allow us to and insists that we stay on the land and continue to farm. Every day when I go out to work in the garden I find myself looking around nervously, wondering if a band of painted men will ride down upon us and kill me and my family as we stand. Alice too is worried, and Kate seems the most worried of all. Although she must have her own work to do on her own farm, I often find her simply standing there beside me as I garden.

  June 9

  This morning Jumps rode up to our cabin in such a manner that my heart leapt into my throat. He spoke quickly with White Loon and by the expression on her face I knew that the news must be bad. Without speaking to me she ran to find Father in the field. She came back shaking her head with worry. Apparently the Indians say there is a large group coming down the Assiniboine with the sole purpose of destroying our colony. Jumps has ridden to the Fort to pass the news on to Governor Semple.

  June 10

  Governor Semple has ordered Fort Gibraltar to be stripped and the palisades floated downriver to be used to protect Fort Douglas. Colin Robertson still believes that we settlers should be moved into Fort Douglas for our own protection. Governor Semple will hear none of it. Father says the two men had a huge fight and Mr. Robertson has decided to leave, saying he cannot stay in the same place as Governor Semple. This is a terrible outcome, as Colin Robertson seems to be the only sensible person here. Father warns us all to stay near the cabin and to watch closely if we’re out in the fields or near the river. But we still have to be outdoors all day working, so it is nerve-wracking to say the least.

  June 16

  An Indian named Moustache has arrived this morning in Fort Douglas. He says he escaped from the Métis camp at Portage la Prairie. He says there is a heavily armed party of Métis and some Indians that will be here within two days. Chief Peguis, who is the Chief of the Saulteaux Indians — the one Alice says helped the settlers over the last two winters — has offered to help us now. But Governor Semple has declined. He must be mad!

  June 19

  I write with trembling hand. We are at present virtual prisoners in Fort Douglas. But let me go back a little and relate the terrible events of the last few hours.

  White Loon decided just after tea to go to the river to pull in her fish nets. She asked me to go with her as Father was going to the fields with the boys to do the weeding. I had been planning to write in your pages, dear diary, but White Loon convinced me to take you with me, so I could sit under a tree by the river and write there. It seemed a pleasant proposal so I agreed.

  We set off and were delighted to discover that one net was filled with fish. Just as we were pulling it in she motioned me to stop and put her fingers to her lips. She had obviously heard something. I began to feel the ground rumbling. White Loon pulled me down beneath a large willow tree. My heart was in my throat. Were we about to be attacked? Where were Father and my brothers?

  “We must go warn the men,” I said to her.

  “No,” she said firmly, holding onto me. “It is too dangerous. The horses are coming this way.”

  “We should have stayed in the Fort as Colin Robertson wanted,” I said. “What will happen now?”

  She shushed me then as the pounding of horses’ hooves grew louder. We were by a bend in the river. Beyond our hiding place were numerous tall oak trees in full leaf — the reason the place is called Seven Oaks. Beyond that is a small open space called Frog Plain.

  And then they were there — a band of men who looked like Indians to me be
cause their faces were smeared with paint of the most bright and frightening variety. But White Loon whispered to me, “Those are not my brothers; those are mixed bloods.”

  “Métis?” I whispered.

  She nodded.

  Later I learned the watchman from the Fort had seen them coming. Governor Semple decided to go meet them and talk to them.

  Very shortly we saw the Governor’s party advance. It seemed there were about twenty men with him.

  “Is Father amongst them?” I whispered.

  “I do not see him,” she answered, “but I see Kate’s father, and Alice’s father too.”

  A man rode out from the trees where they had been waiting on horseback and called to the Governor’s party, “What do you want?”

  “What do you want?” the Governor called back.

  “We want our Fort.”

  “Go to your Fort!” the Governor called.

  He couldn’t mean Fort Gibraltar — the North West Company fort — I thought, as that had been dismantled. I could not quite understand what he meant. But then the other man shouted, “Why did you destroy our Fort, you damned rascal?”

  The two men drew near to each other, the Governor on foot, the other man on his horse. We were close enough to see Governor Semple’s face go all red — furious, most likely, that a man not of his station could speak to him in such a manner. Suddenly the Governor reached out his hands and grabbed the reins of the other’s horse. Just then more Métis rode in from behind the Governor’s party, so they were cut off and surrounded.