by Rita Feutl
Janey followed, but Martha stopped her. “First the firewood. You’ll find some out back. And don’t dawdle.”
Janey stumbled back out into the evening, and waited for her eyes to adjust. True enough, a pile of wood crouched by the wall. She grabbed an armful of short logs and turned, then stopped. A figure barred her way.
“Well, at least ya can manage to pick up a few sticks of wood without runnin’ away,” sneered Martin from the darkness. “Hangin’ round with the womenfolk in the kitchens to avoid doin’ any real work, are ya?”
Janey tried to make her way around Martin, but his arm shot out and grabbed the sleeve of her shirt.The firewood tumbled from her hands. “Can’t even do that, can ya?” said Martin, drawing her close enough that she could smell his dinner on his breath. She sensed, more than saw, that his other arm was swinging toward her. Instinctively, Janey ducked, grabbing one of the dropped sticks of wood. She whacked it at him, then reached down to grab another.
“Jamie, if you don’t bring the wood soon, Martha said she’ll come out here and thrash anyone keeping her from putting dinner on the table.” Louisa’s little figure stood backlit at the door.
Martin stepped back, his hand clutching the side of his face. “We’re not done yet,” he hissed, turning into the darkness.
Shaking, Janey scooped up the wood she’d dropped and returned to the kitchen. The next hour hardly gave her a chance to think as she hauled water, fetched supplies, and scrubbed pots under Martha’s stern eye.When the dinner had been served, the cook stepped out from the heat of the kitchen, leaving Janey and Louisa to start with the dishes. The odd slide-pound, slide-pound noise that Janey had heard intermittently started up again overhead. “What is that sound?”
“That’s Chief Factor Rowand,” said Louisa.“Black Bear’s people call him ‘Big Mountain,’ but the men in the fort call him One-Pound-One – only, never in front of him.Years and years ago he went hunting and he fell off his horse and hurt his leg. Ever since, when he walks around, he makes that noise.”
She dried another plate, listening to the steps above, then giggled.“Mama says that on the day of the accident, her friend Lisette was working here at the fort. Mr. Rowand didn’t come back and didn’t come back, so she took a wagon out to find him. And then, when she did, Lisette wouldn’t bring him back until he said he’d marry her.That’s how come she’s the most powerful woman here.”
Louisa put the plates in the cupboard.“Mama says a girl ought to tell her man what she wants before she marries. That way, there aren’t any surprises.” They listened again as the odd footsteps thumped overhead.
“He must be worried,” Louisa continued. “But so is Mama.And I want the boats to come too.Then we’ll finally have news of Father.We’ve been waiting for his letter since he left last spring.”
“Why’s he gone so long?” asked Janey, carefully washing knives.
“For many years he has worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company and now he wants his own home. He’s looking for a home for us in Fort Garry. As soon as his letter comes, Mama and I will leave. Father says there are houses – regular houses – and streets in Fort Garry. I’ve never seen a street. Here there’s just the fort, the river, and the woods.”
Martha swept back in just as the last dish was cleared away. “Well now, we might have a bite of something before I send you back.” She sliced several pieces from a leftover roast, as well as two thick slabs of heavy dark bread.
“Go on now. Bring it over to the fire and we can have a chat.”
Tales of the icehouse fresh in her mind, Janey opted for a plain slice of bread. As she pulled a chair to the fire, Martha eyed her expectantly.
“So. Tell us what’s new at Rocky Mountain House,” she said encouragingly.
Panicking, Janey glanced at Louisa, who was dragging a chair up beside her. “Martha, please, please tell the story about Mama and the ghost,” Louisa begged. “I told about how Mama was magic but not how it started. And you tell it the best.”
Flattered, Martha forgot her own request. “Well, let’s see now. It was before my time, but my mama was there when it happened.” She settled herself into her chair.
“A long time ago,” she began, “back when there were two trading companies here, Louisa’s grandfather, Mr. King, worked for the North West Company just down here on the river, at Fort Augustus.
“Now, one day, in the middle of winter, Mr. King was preparing to leave on a three-day trading trip. But another man, called La Mothe, he heard about these Indians too, and he wanted to trade with them for his own company.
“The night before Mr. King left, the master of the Hudson’s Bay Company came to him.” Martha’s voice deepened.“‘Be careful, Mr. King.That man La Mothe has a terrible temper and has been known to shoot people who get in his way.’
“But Mr. King just laughed and said,‘To be shot by La Mothe...that would be a good joke indeed!’ Mr. King didn’t believe anything could hurt him, but his wife was worried and begged him not to go.
“Still, he spent the night as usual in the tent with his small family; his wife and his little daughter, Marie, who is Louisa’s mama, and who was even smaller than our Louisa here. Next morning he set out in his sleigh, still chuckling over his wife’s fears.
“But two nights later, when all were fast asleep and the only sound was the fire crackling inside the warm tent, Mrs. King woke up. Little Marie was weeping.
“‘Mother,’ she cried, pointing to an empty space in front of her,‘there is Father at the foot of the bed and, oh, how terrible. Look! His neck is all red.’” Martha aimed her finger at the fire, while Louisa unconsciously put her hand up to her throat.
“Mrs. King hushed Marie. ‘It is only a bad dream, little one. You must go back to sleep.’ Marie finally stopped crying and curled up in her nest of winter furs, as did her mother.
“But hardly an hour passed before she woke once more. Little Marie was weeping and cried out again: ‘There is Father at the foot of the bed. Oh, look, look! His neck is all red.’ Once again Mrs. King hushed her little girl and put her back to sleep.
“But now, while Marie slept, Mrs. King tossed and turned in the furs, worrying, worrying. Finally, in the morning, she told some others what her daughter had seen the night before.They laughed, and told her that Marie was just a little girl with funny dreams. Almost everyone forgot the story...until the next afternoon.
“Watchmen saw the sleigh from the bastion of the fort and opened the main gate. In flew the horses, shaking and whinnying, eyes big with fright. They couldn’t see Mr. King anywhere. But when they finally calmed the horses and looked in the bottom of the sleigh, there he was, dead. La Mothe had shot him through the throat and the frozen blood crusted red against his neck.
“To this day, Marie – well, Mrs. Fisher – says the ghost of her father came back to her the night he died, to say goodbye to his daughter.”
In the silence that followed, the darkness outside the ring of firelight felt gloomy and menacing. Little wonder all three jumped when the kitchen door banged open and Martin burst in.“The York boats are comin’. We need all hands to unload.” He glanced meaningfully at Janey, who caught sight of a thin trickle of blood on his right cheek before he clattered down the corridor.
It was only when Janey stepped outside into the courtyard that she suddenly grasped how dark it had become. Flickers from candles and hearth fires shimmered through small windows, but all else was black.
Not quite. Janey glanced up and caught her breath. Never before had she seen so many stars glitter so fiercely. There were millions of them, whole dazzling blankets tossed carelessly above her. She resisted the impulse to reach up, to touch them as they sparkled so close. Janey gave her head a shake.The girls back home would think she’d lost her mind. It must be some weird optical illusion, she figured, like those 3-D glasses they gave you for certain movies.
She glanced back down again, and her eyes, adjusted to the dark, made out the circle of log buildin
gs around her. It occurred to her that she might have to spend the night here in this place of woodsmoke and dead animals, with no way home. What had she done? And why, oh why, was she here? Beyond the thin wooden walls of the fort were woods and prairie and...nothing else, in a massive expanse of wilderness. She was merely a tiny little creature who couldn’t even begin to stop anything bad from happening.The darkness crowded in on her, making Janey feel cold and small and frightened.
“Are ya prayin’ or just hidin’ from the work again?” sneered a voice in her ear. She recognized Martin’s stinky breath – someone should give that guy a toothbrush – and stumbled after Louisa, who was waiting impatiently by the gate.
Down at the river’s edge, men were slapping each other on the back, while others were already unloading packages from the boat. A mixture of French and English shouts and curses wove through the air, blending with the smell of sweat and woodsmoke. Hands pushed Janey forward, and before she knew it, she was standing waist deep in water, grasping a huge round object with a pleasantly sweet smell to it.
“Ya gonna smoke that tobacco right where yer standin’, lad, or are ya gonna take it to shore?” asked a man from the flat, shallow-bottomed boat.
“That one’s too lazy to do anything,” said Martin, lumbering up. In the moonlight she could see a long cut that ran from his eye down across his cheekbone. She stepped quickly away, clutching the tobacco cake to her. She dropped it on a pile at the shore, where Louisa, her mother, and some other women stood waiting.
“Has the post been unloaded?” asked Louisa eagerly. Even Mrs. Fisher was looking on with interest.
“I’ll ask.” Janey waded back in and repeated the question.
“Here ya go, lad,” said the fellow, tossing her a leather bag. Just as she was about to grab it, a sharp kick slammed into the side of her knee, sending Janey toppling into the water. The bag landed with a sickening splash in the river. Finding her feet, she reached desperately for several papers floating off in the current.
“Ya stupid oaf! Can’t ya do anythin’? Don’t ya know how important the post is to the people here?” Martin fished the bag from the water and handed it to one of the men going by.“Yer just a lazy, stupid, good-for-nothin’ oaf, causin’ trouble,” he said, advancing on Janey and giving her a mighty push backwards.
Janey went under, then sputtered back up, panicking, and tried to get around Martin. But he shoved her again, driving her deeper into the river. She resurfaced and looked for help, but the crowd had gathered around the leather bag on the shore. Martin plunged at her once more, this time hanging onto her as he pushed her under water. Terrified, Janey drew up her knee and kicked him, hard. He let go, and Janey burst to the surface, gasping for breath and paddling backwards out of his reach.
“Why, ya little...” Martin lunged forward, and Janey flipped onto her stomach and swam for all she was worth, ignoring the pull of her bulky clothes. She could hear the splashing behind her as Martin cursed and swore. Janey swam steadily forward, hoping he’d never learned to swim. Now men were running along the shore, calling and shouting.When she reached the opposite side, she pulled herself out of the water. Cold, wet, frightened, she scanned the riverbank for a path into the bush, then froze.The moon’s reflection caught in a pair of eyes staring at her from the underbrush.
Terrified, Janey turned the other way and plunged into the trees. Ahead, she saw a path and dashed toward it. Something was following and Janey tried to put as much distance between her and those eyes as she could.
But she was tiring, and the path, with its turns and twists, was climbing uphill. Frantically, she stared up the trail, looking for a place to hide. She could still hear shouts from the river, and footfalls behind her. Should she climb a tree? Turn and face her pursuer? The stitch in her side was becoming unbearable. Just as she thought she could not take another step, she saw it – a rock overhang, and underneath, an opening, dark and still. A branch snapped somewhere behind her, propelling Janey toward the hole. She stuck her feet in first, praying it wasn’t an animal hole, and turned to confront her follower.
Two things came to her at the same time as she slid down. One was that the hole had no bottom. The second was that her pursuer was that Cree boy, Black Bear.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FUR TRADERS MUST HAVE FOUND HER, thought Janey, opening her eyes. She blinked. It was bright day. But the two men coming toward her were dressed in hard hats and clutching modern-looking walkie-talkies. She sat up and grabbed the locket, which was sliding off her lap.
“Hey, you! Whaddya doin’ in here? Can’t you read? It’s way too dangerous for you to be here,” called one of the men. No kidding, thought Janey as she scrambled to her feet, brushed off the dirt, and edged toward where she’d stashed her backpack.
“Sorry. I, uh, I dropped something. My grandmother’s locket,” said Janey, holding the silver necklace up as proof.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s the crown jewels. You’re not supposed to be in a construction site,” said the second man as they came up to her. “Man, what happened to you?”
He’d never, ever, believe it, she thought, glancing down at her muddy, steaming overalls. “Look, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again,” she said. She vaulted over the fence, swooped up her pack, and ran.
“Hey! We’re not done with you yet! Come back here!”
You gotta be kidding, thought Janey, plunging into an ice cream parlour directly ahead of her. A family with three kids, clustered around the display case, looked up, startled, as she rushed past. She smiled weakly at them, and kept going toward the back of the shop, where a door was propped open to let in the summer breeze.
Once outside, she slowed and looked around. The sunlight was fierce and dazzling after the darkness at the fort. I need a plan, thought Janey, panting. I need to stop running. I need to...I really need to get out of these clothes.
To her right she noticed a two-storey white building with a back entrance. Janey slipped through the door and found a women’s washroom. She hardly recognized the figure staring back at her in the mirror over the sink. Every last bit of her face was covered with smoke and grime that not even her river swim had washed away. Her overalls were a mess and her sneakers... How was she supposed to explain this to Granny?
She stripped off the shirt and overalls and, as she was stuffing them into her backpack, she noticed a twenty-dollar bill in one of the pockets.Well, at least I’ve found the money I thought I’d lost, she thought. Maybe it just doesn’t work in olden-days time, like my watch.
She straightened and inspected herself. At least her shorts and T-shirt had stayed pretty clean, though they were still damp. Janey figured they’d dry in the sun. She grabbed a handful of paper towels and worked on her face. She smiled, remembering Louisa’s comment about her fish-belly white skin, then stopped. The memory of the little girl waiting eagerly on the riverbank for word from her father flooded back. Because of Janey, there would be no word.
Scrubbing fiercely at a black streak on her forehead, she tried to ignore the rush of confusion and guilt threatening to sweep down on her.What was she doing here, falling down tunnels, fighting with fur traders, losing important letters that could change a child’s life? And why had she even bothered to come back, when it seemed as if all she did was get herself and people she liked into serious trouble? Anna’s tent and her doll flashed through Janey’s mind, then the letters, white in the moonlight, smudges of blue ink weeping off the page. Janey felt her eyes begin to prickle with tears.
And what about Martin? He probably couldn’t even swim.What if she’d drowned him? Even though he was crazy, she didn’t want to be responsible for his death.
That’s it, she vowed. I’m never going to meddle in the past again. Who am I kidding? I can’t stop something terrible from happening. What a stupid idea. Stupid park. Stupid mother for taking a stupid job in stupid Turkey. Stupid old woman for telling me about this stupid “bad thing” in the first place. Janey flung
the paper towels into the garbage angrily, and walked out.
The sun was warm on her face, and in the gentle heat of the summer afternoon, Janey felt the tension seep out of her body. It was a gorgeous day, and people were ambling past in shorts and sandals, taking in the sights. You know, thought Janey, I really ought to try and have a look around here without leaping into open pits. Maybe I could find out what I need to know. Maybe I don’t even have to go back. It could all be right around here.
She stepped into the path of a costumed woman in a long skirt and oversized hat walking toward her.Two girls, in aproned dresses and straw boaters, trailed after her.
“Excuse me. Is there some kind of a fort, or an Edmonton House, around here?”
The woman nodded.“It’s at the end, or at the very beginning, of this park, depending on how you look at it,” said the woman, smiling.
“Mother, just tell her where it is,” said the older girl, rolling her eyes.
“Well, you could turn right at 1885 Street and then follow its curve to the fort, or you could take the shortcut...”
Janey interrupted the woman.“What do you mean, 1885 Street?”
“Well, there are four different time periods in this park.We’re on 1905 Street, and there’s 1885 Street, and the fort era...” Four time periods, thought Janey. Maybe that’s where she’d gone wrong! She had just drifted into the wrong era when she tried to get back to Anna.And maybe she wasn’t even supposed to meet Anna. Maybe the terrible thing she was supposed to stop was...whoa. Hold on here. Hadn’t she just told herself she was going to stay out of trouble? But what if she’d just taken a wrong turn in the tunnels? Maybe if...
“Is there anything else we can help you with?” asked the woman in the large hat.The two girls were staring at her, puzzled.
“Um, yeah.” Janey shook herself. “That shortcut?”
“Just follow the streetcar tracks, then cut through on your right. You can’t miss it,” said the older girl. “Tall, wooden walls...”
