Taking the Reins

by Dayle Campbell Gaetz

  Her father looked skeptical. “But that’s...”

  “William here has been helping George around the farm,” Mother interrupted. “Wait until you see the barn they’re building. It’s almost finished, and the well is too! And they’ve worked on the cabin – you’ll be amazed, Katherine. William is a wonderful influence on George. He is such a hard worker.”

  At this, Mrs. Morris gave a loud Humph. She stood back with her arms folded across her drooping chest and refused to let William hand her up into the wagon. As a result, Father had to step forward to help her and Katherine stood on his other side to prevent him from falling.

  It took both William and Katherine to help Father up into the seat, and then William turned to Katherine. His hand felt warm and strong as it closed around hers. A tingle of happiness surged through her body. She glanced up at him shyly.

  He stared down at her, as stern as the last time she saw him – that day at his village with his father looking on, when William told her a man could not be friends with a girl.

  She let go of his hand and scrambled up to the seat on her own.

  “It certainly is cold enough in this godforsaken country,” Mrs. Morris complained as they bounced along the frozen road toward the Harris farm. She sat beside Mother, sharing a warm blanket, their backs to William, who occupied the small driver’s seat at the front. Katherine and her father sat opposite the two women, facing forward, a second blanket over their knees. “And it is such a long way from civilization.”

  The wheels dipped into a particularly deep pothole. “Ugh,” Mrs. Morris moaned, “this is a horrid, rough ride.” She placed a gloved hand on Mother’s arm. “You must be a saint to cope with all of this, my dear.”

  “It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Mother replied. “But I must admit, we do enjoy living in Yale, where we have a little company.”

  “Yes, but you are so far from Society,” Mrs. Morris sympathized. “And,” she glanced over her shoulder at William, then leaned closer to Mother but didn’t bother to lower her voice, “it is impossible to get any decent sort of help!”

  Katherine could tell how angry William was by the way he held his shoulders, all hunched up and stiff. She leaned forward, intending to say a few choice words to Mrs. Morris, but Father pulled her back.

  “We make do quite nicely,” Mother said. “And without William’s help and others like him, many of us settlers would not survive in this wild colony. I don’t expect our George would have accomplished half so much if William had not shown up to offer his services.”

  Katherine wondered exactly when William had arrived. She must have just missed him when she set out for Victoria. Did he only show up because he knew she had gone?

  William deposited everyone at the cabin’s front door and headed for the sturdy little barn to take care of the horses. Katherine watched him go. He and George had certainly done a splendid job on building the barn. More a large shed really, set not far from the house, its roof steeply pitched to prevent snow from accumulating. The wood-plank walls were finished and a wide door set in place. She started toward it, but George appeared at the cabin door just then.

  “Tea’s ready!” he announced.

  Katherine stopped in the doorway. She could scarcely believe what she saw. There was fresh bread on the table, sourdough to be sure, but bread nevertheless. There was cheese and butter, blackberry jam and a big pot of tea, with the table neatly set. Behind the table, instead of the little lean-to kitchen and cramped room beside it where George slept, there was now a real, built-in kitchen and a proper bedroom. She hurried to inspect them.

  The bedroom was scarcely large enough for a bed but had an actual door and in the far wall a small, square window. The walls had no cracks between logs to let in the frigid winter wind. There was a proper roof above it and over the kitchen too, not one that looked about to collapse under the weight of the first snowfall.

  “This is unbelievable! You’ve done so much.”

  “I couldn’t have done it without William,” George admitted as they rejoined the others.

  Mrs. Morris clucked her tongue and lowered herself onto their one decent chair. It was Father’s, who needed the comfort of it since his injury. But he said nothing and settled on one of the crude blocks of wood.

  After tea, Father pushed himself up from the table. “I believe I shall take the newspapers Mrs. Morris so kindly brought along and read them in the bedroom, out of everyone’s way.”

  Katherine smiled to herself, knowing he could not abide another minute in Mrs. Morris’s company. Likely he would be snoring within five minutes.

  “Well, I’m off to the barn,” George said. “There’s work to be done before we leave for Yale tomorrow.”

  Mother and Mrs. Morris remained at the table to catch up on news of Victoria while Katherine cleared the table and washed the dishes. That done, she bundled into warm clothes and hurried outside.

  Tiny, dry pellets of snow floated from a slate-grey sky as Katherine scurried toward the new barn. Inside there was room enough for four stalls, a small storage area, and a loft overflowing with sweet-smelling hay. Duke and Coal took up two of the stalls while their milk cow, Genevieve, watched Katherine lazily from a third. George was busy hammering boards to complete a wall of the storage area.

  “You’ve done a splendid job here too,” Katherine said. “And in such a short time. I still can’t believe it!”

  George spoke around a mouthful of nails that altered the sounds of his words. “Isn’t this why you dragged me home?”

  Katherine smiled. “I wasn’t certain you would actually do anything. You didn’t accomplish much last summer!”

  George spit the nails into his hand. “Yes, well, it’s not easy to work with Father standing over me explaining what I’m doing wrong every minute.”

  “I know!” Katherine laughed briefly, but something else occupied her mind. Should she ask? No... Yes... Now or never. “Did William arrive when Father was still here?”

  “No, he showed up after they left. He needed work because there weren’t enough salmon caught in the river to last his people until spring. He blames the shortage on the construction of the wagon road.”

  “Oh, but George, do you think that could be true?”

  Her brother shrugged. “I have no idea. At any rate, we pay him what we can, mostly in food Mother sends from the store up to his family’s winter village.”

  “That’s good then,” Katherine said.

  “Wait until you see the well! William’s out there now. We had hoped to finish it before you got here as a surprise, since you were the one who complained so much about it.”

  “I was the one who had to fetch water in that contraption you and Father built!” she pointed out. George didn’t answer but stuffed the nails back into this mouth.

  “I guess I shall go have a look at the well then.”

  George nodded, already back at his task.

  Katherine spotted William working on the framework above the well. He didn’t see her coming, and she chuckled to herself, remembering the day she first met William. She had been leaning over the riverbank, using a long pole and a pulley system rigged up by Father and George to haul up a bucket of water.

  Hey! William had called, so close behind she had dropped the pole over the bank. Today, she would get even.

  “Hey!” she cried out, stifling a laugh.

  He swung around, the look on his face so fierce she jumped back.

  “Never creep up on a man that way!”

  “I didn’t creep, I only walked. Can I help it if you didn’t hear me?”

  William turned his back and continued working. Of course he wouldn’t think it was funny. Why should he? Too late, Katherine remembered how cross she had been at him. Even so, he didn’t need to yell at her. He didn’t need to turn
away and pretend she wasn’t even here. “That’s what you did to me when I was fetching water that day,” she reminded him.

  Still he didn’t answer.

  “You’re doing an excellent job,” she said.

  He acted as if he did not hear.

  “Thank you for helping George. He could never have accomplished half so much by himself.”

  No reply.

  “William?” Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe he didn’t care. But William was the only person who had really listened to her after Susan died, and she missed his company. She needed to confide in him now, whether he liked it or not. “I’m learning a lot at school, but I haven’t made any friends. No one likes me except for the little ones. The only girl in the whole town who speaks to me is Emma Curtis, and she doesn’t even go to school. But guess what?” Katherine realized she was babbling. She forced herself into silence. Perhaps curiosity would get the better of him. Perhaps not.

  She waited. She put out her hand, palm upward, watching tiny grains of snow land and melt away in the warmth of her skin. It seemed William was too busy to talk to her. She turned to go.

  “What?”

  “Oh, William, I found Nugget!” She smiled up at him. “She belongs to Emma, who wants to call her Liberty, which is a stupid name. But luckily for me, Emma doesn’t know how to ride, so I’m teaching her. That means I get to ride Nugget every day.”

  “It is good you have a friend. This is what you wanted most of all.”

  “I did. But Emma’s not really my friend, she’s...well, she’s just Emma.”

  “Then you must learn to be a friend to her,” William said. “Katherine, our fathers are right about us. We cannot be friends. Our worlds are too far apart.”

  “Oh!” What was he saying? Katherine bit her lip.

  “Next summer I will marry – a young woman from a nearby village.”

  “Oh!” she said again. “Oh, but...”

  “She will be a good wife for me.”

  “All right then.” Katherine knew this was true, the way it must be – she had known it all along, really. But seeing William again like this made her remember how much she had liked him. How he had been a friend to her when she felt so alone. “Congratulations. I’m certain you will be very happy.” She turned away because her eyes began to water.

  “Katherine?” William stepped closer.

  She focused on the toes of her boots, on little white pellets landing on them. A skiff of white covered the ground at her feet. William placed his fingertips under her chin and raised it until she was forced to look up at him.

  “It’s the cold wind,” she explained. “It makes my eyes water. I’m not used to the cold, you see, in Victoria...”

  “You also will be happy in your life,” he interrupted. “This is good.”

  “Yes.” She gulped and pulled away. She darted back to the cabin, her head down against a rising wind.

  Six inches of snow covered the ground, and brittle stars hung in a cold black sky the next morning when everyone crowded into the wagon to which George and William had affixed runners. They pulled into Hope with a pale sun struggling to sweep away the stars.

  Black smoke billowed into the sky from the sternwheeler’s smokestack, showing that the crew were pouring on coal to build a full head of steam before tackling the rapids. A blast of the horn echoed through the crisp air.

  “Hurry,” Father said, “or we’ll be left behind.”

  In the rush to climb aboard, Katherine didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to William, and when she looked back from the deck he had disappeared. She realized, too late, that she hadn’t apologized for Mrs. Morris’ rudeness.

  On reaching Yale, passengers disembarked and supplies bound for the general store were unloaded quickly so the boat could head back downriver. They said their goodbyes to Mrs. Morris while still on board.

  “Well, I can’t say I’ll miss her,” Father remarked as the boat pulled away.

  “Is she like that all the time?” George asked.

  “She’s usually kept busy in Victoria,” Katherine said. “So I don’t see too much of her.”

  “Luckily for you.” George bent to pick up a parcel destined for the store while their parents hurried ahead to open the doors.

  Christmas morning, George and Katherine followed their parents, boots crunching over new-fallen snow, up a small rise to a little white church tucked at the base of steep mountains. The lower slopes, stripped barren in the building of Yale, might be ugly come spring, but today they sparkled pure white under a fresh blanket of snow.

  Their parents clung to one another, arm in arm, their heads bowed. Katherine knew they were thinking of other Christmases. They were thinking of Susan. She glanced at her brother, but he refused to look her way. He grunted as if in pain, his breath rising into the crisp air.

  “Oh, George,” she whispered, slipping her hand through his bent arm. She could say nothing more. Nothing more was needed. George patted her hand. Her eyes stung.

  It seemed the entire town was gathered in the church. And after the service almost everyone remained to chat in the warmth of the room.

  “How are you enjoying school in Victoria?” asked a young mother with a baby in her arms, a child clutching her hand and another clinging to her long skirt.

  “Very much,” Katherine replied. “I’m learning a lot and I always enjoy helping the little ones with their schoolwork.”

  “Oh, if only someone here in Yale would do that! I try to teach my children at home, but there is so little time, what with washing and cooking and growing food and caring for the youngest ones.”

  “Yes, it must be difficult to do everything yourself.” Katherine watched a group of children, eight or nine of them, chasing one another about the room while their mothers tried in vain to get them to settle down. She thought of the plans she and Susan had shared. The dream of starting a school.

  The rich aroma of slow-roasting goose wafted out to greet them as the family approached their comfortable living quarters behind the store. Hungry, they hurried inside. It was mid afternoon of the following day when townspeople began dropping by. The women brought warm pies and cakes, while some of the men carried whiskey bottles tucked in their pockets. The women and children remained in the kitchen while the men, including George, wandered into the small parlour. Other than Katherine and George, everyone was either an adult or a child under ten.

  After serving coffee and passing around a plate of food, Katherine wandered aimlessly through the crowded room, too young to chat with the women, too old to play with the children. She paused at the woodstove and raised both hands to its warmth.

  “Can you read?”

  Seated on a braided rug, a small girl balanced a heavy book on her knees. Katherine recognized her as the one clutching her mother’s hand at church the day before.

  “I got this book from my grandmother. She lives a long ways away in Scotland.”

  “Would you like me to read you a story?”

  The child nodded.

  “Good then.” Happy for the company, Katherine settled beside the little girl and started reading. But the story was long and preachy and threatened to put both of them to sleep. Closing the book, Katherine began to relate one of her favorite stories from childhood. Other children began to gather around her, sitting on the rug near the stove.

  “I have a book too,” said one of the boys, holding it up. “But it’s hard to read by myself.”

  “Then let’s read it together,” Katherine suggested. The boy sat beside her, reading aloud, while she helped him over the difficult parts.

  “Can we come back soon?” he asked his mother as they left.

  Katherine smiled to hear it.

  The following day was a quiet one. Snow fell steadily, making walking difficul
t. The store was open but not as busy as usual. At this time of year it did a good enough business with local folk, but come spring the store would be bustling once more with miners purchasing supplies before heading up the Cariboo Road to seek their fortunes.

  Katherine settled in the parlour to read, but the book didn’t hold her interest, and she grew restless. She stood and went to the window. Snow fell so heavily it obliterated the river directly across the road. She decided against a walk. What was there to do? She wandered down the short hallway and paused at a closed door. She knew it led to the attic and wondered what treasures might be stored up there. Perhaps there were books just waiting to be read.

  The door creaked open on a dimly lit stairway. She followed the dusty stairs to a long, rectangular room. The steeply gabled roof sloped to meet the floor along each side. At each end, a small window offered light enough to see. She paused beneath the ridge and surveyed a large, empty space high enough to for an adult to stand in comfortably.

  Katherine hugged her arms around herself in the quiet cold. She thought of the children here who couldn’t read their new Christmas books. She pictured little desks around her. Shelves lined with books. Lanterns hanging from beams overhead. She shivered. A woodstove for warmth. She hurried back down the stairs, closed the door, and wandered back to the parlour, deep in thought.

  The night before returning to Victoria, Katherine could think of little else but Nugget. If all went well, she and Mother would arrive safely in Victoria by the following evening. The day after that, she would see Nugget again. And Emma of course. Katherine was surprised to realize she looked forward to seeing Emma as much as Nugget.

  “This has been a good Christmas,” Mother said, packing her bags to accompany Katherine. “Better than I could have expected – without Susan.”

  Katherine nodded. Her eyes misted, thinking of her sister, but for Mother’s sake she managed a smile. “It was fun having so many people to visit.”

  Mother folded her nightdress. “I shall be sorry when Mr. Roberts comes home in spring and we need to return to the farm. More so now that your father has finally realized farming is not for us.”