When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West)

by Janette Oke

  Something about the whole idea troubled me. Yet what harm could it possibly do?

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Temptation

  Through the following days I continued to think about Big Woman and her medicine. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if I could find help right here in the village and not need to travel way to Calgary, leaving Wynn behind? I wanted to talk to Wynn about it, but something I couldn’t identify always held me back. It seemed so reasonable to go to see Big Woman. Yet something made me uneasy whenever I made up my mind to go.

  I visited Nimmie and her new baby frequently. He was a lovely, healthy boy and seemed to have grown each time I went to see him. Alexander was a contented baby with a chubby little face and dimples. His dark eyes watched your face and his small fists knotted themselves at the front of your gown. I loved him, almost like he was my own.

  I held him and thought of the sweet little Nonita and my heart ached. Was it possible that in the days ahead fever again might strike the village and this one, too, would be taken? Does Nimmie ever think these thoughts? I wondered. Maybe I should be glad that I’ve never had a child. I didn’t think I could stand to have one and then lose it. I couldn’t imagine anything harder to bear.

  But Nimmie made no reference to fear. Daily she thanked God for her new baby and for the fact that Sonny was healthier than before. He still was small for his age and seemingly fragile, but he was active, and he was not the fussy baby he had been.

  I never did find the courage to ask Nimmie if she had been to see Big Woman. It seemed too private a thing for me to ask.

  I did ask Nimmie what she thought of Big Woman as a midwife.

  “I have told Ian that I would prefer Kantook, but if she is busy, Big Woman is fine.”

  I later found out that when Ian had gone looking for Kantook, she was already busy delivering Little Deer’s child, a boy, too. So two new braves were added to the village that evening.

  Nimmie’s answer had not really told me what I had wanted to know, so I pried a little further.

  “In what way is Kantook better?”

  “I didn’t say she was better,” said Nimmie.

  “Then what did you mean?”

  “I really don’t know how to explain it to you,” said Nimmie. “I guess one could say that Big Woman is the ‘old,’ Kantook is the ‘new.’ ”

  It sounded reasonable enough, but I still didn’t know what Nimmie meant by it.

  With the coming of spring, I knew Wynn would be searching for a way to get me out to Calgary. If I was really serious about seeing Big Woman, I would need to do something quickly.

  I thought of just getting up my nerve and going on my own, without even mentioning the fact to Wynn. Then if Big Woman’s medicine did not work, I would be the only disappointed one. A nagging little voice inside told me that would not be right. Wynn should know what I was planning. I broached the subject one night after we had retired. I found it easier to express myself in the dark, when Wynn could not study my face.

  “Little Deer was over for tea one day a while back,” I began, “and happened to mention that there is a woman in the village who has special herbs to help one to—to—” I faltered some. I wasn’t sure just how to go on. “For those who do not have children,” I finally said.

  Wynn made no reply, though I knew he was carefully listening to every word I said.

  “She said she has helped women here in the village.”

  “Who is it—this woman?” asked Wynn.

  “She’s one of the midwives.”

  Before I could even name her, Wynn said, “Big Woman?”

  “Yes. You knew about it?”

  “No, but I’m not surprised.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Big Woman will promise anything for a little money.”

  I was a bit put out with Wynn. Didn’t he think a baby was worth a little money?

  “City doctors want money, too,” I reminded him.

  “But they’re not witch doctors,” Wynn stated simply.

  “Big Woman is a witch doctor?” I was astounded.

  “Hadn’t you heard? She practices all kinds of witchcraft when she has opportunity. We try to discourage it, but we can’t control it altogether.”

  I sank back against my pillow. In my desperation I had nearly consulted a witch doctor. I had rationalized that a little chant could do no harm. Yet I knew with all my heart that any kind of witchcraft or sorcery was wrong. No wonder I had felt uneasy! And then, much to my dismay, I realized that in the days and weeks I had considered going to see Big Woman, I had not once prayed about it, asking God what He would direct me to do.

  If I had prayed, if I had just prayed, I would have known. Yet even in my ignorance and my own waywardness, God had protected me from going.

  I humbly closed my eyes and offered up a contrite prayer. I would not try to take matters in my own hands from now on. I would leave it to God. And if I was to go out to see a proper doctor, I would trust Wynn to make the arrangements.

  And then I poured out the whole story to Wynn, telling him about my desperation, my temptation, my holding back, and now my deep thankfulness for being kept from perhaps bringing into our home a child who had been conceived through witchcraft.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Duty

  Spring was slow in coming. Just when I was beginning to hope, another storm would strike. The sun made no visible headway on the hip-deep snowdrifts, and the icicles on the eave troughs grew and grew.

  I suppose I was more anxious for spring than ever, once the idea of going “out” had taken root. I also was looking forward to seeing family and friends again. So I chafed with each new flurry that came our way.

  One afternoon, just as another swirl of snow began to cover our little settlement, Wynn returned to our cabin, his face set in a grim expression. I knew something serious had happened. He did not bother to play with Kip, but pushed him aside and came to me.

  He kissed me first and then spoke, his voice grave. “I have just gotten word, Elizabeth, that someone has been trading illegal liquor to our Indians. I don’t know who it is or where he is working, or if there is more than one. But I have to go check it out.”

  He kissed me again and released me to go and pack his gear. I followed him, not knowing what to say or to do. He was preparing much more carefully than usual.

  “How long will you be gone?” I asked him, able at last to find my voice.

  “I have no idea. I wish I could say it will take only a day or two, but the truth is, I have no idea how long it might take.”

  “Are you taking some men with you?”

  “No, I will be going alone.”

  “But why? You might need help. The man, or men, might be dangerous.”

  “That’s true. That’s why I am going alone. This isn’t the kind of thing that you can ask others to share. It’s the law that is needed here.”

  His words frightened me and brought a chill to my heart. His trail gear caused me further fear. Never had I seen Wynn take such pains. He made his list and doubleand triple-checked it, making sure he had everything. The amount of ammunition also frightened me. Did he think he might need it? Were whiskey runners really that dangerous? Yes, I had heard enough stories from others to know that indeed they might be.

  “What can I do?” I asked him helplessly. “Will you want to eat before you go?”

  Wynn gave me a rather absent-minded smile. “Great idea,” he said; “something hot would be good.”

  I left him and went back to my kitchen. The fire was burning well and it did not take me long to have a hot meal for Wynn and a pot of strong tea.

  When he came from his office, I was ready. He noticed just the one plate on the table. “Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked.

  “No, I—I’m really not hungry. It’s only three o’clock.”

  “How about a cup of tea then?”

  “It’s stronger than I like it.”

  “You could water it down some.
”

  I shook my head. I just didn’t feel like putting something into my churning stomach.

  Wynn studied my face, but said nothing more.

  “Is there anything I should do while you’re gone?” I asked, feeling helpless and lonely already.

  “Just take good care of yourself! I have left word with Ian to keep a close eye on you. If anything is needed, you be sure to let him know.”

  Wynn finished his meal all too quickly and was pushing away from the table.

  “I’m going for the team,” he told me. “I will load up here. You might watch Kip. I don’t want him slipping out the door and tangling with the sled dogs.”

  I nodded and mechanically began to clear the table.

  Wynn was not gone long. I could hear the yipping and complaining of the dog team as they made their way to our cabin. I wondered if they were thinking the same thing that I was—that this was a strange time of the day to be taking to the trail. I had thought of asking Wynn to wait until morning but I checked myself. If Wynn had not felt it was important to leave immediately, he would have decided to sleep at home and strike out on the trail early the next day.

  It did not take Wynn long to pack. I helped only by carrying some of the gear to the door of the cabin. Wynn himself had to arrange and pack the sled. He would want to know exactly where everything was located.

  I determined not to cry as I said goodbye, but it was difficult. I reminded myself over and over that Wynn had gone on dangerous missions before and always returned.

  We prayed together before he left as we always did, each of us imploring God to protect the other. Then our door was closed and I heard Wynn’s voice commanding his dogs to be on their way.

  I did not go to the door or a window. I did not want to see the snow flurries blot him from my vision. Instead, I went to the bedroom to spend some more time in prayer.

  I will confess that I did shed a few tears as I prayed, but when I came out of my bedroom it was with renewed peace of mind and a determination to use, rather than waste, the days that Wynn would be gone.

  The first thing I did was to get out the stew pot. I had heard that one of the elderly couples in the village had not been well. I would take them something nourishing.

  By the time I returned from my trip to the invalids, it was already dark. I was glad for the warmth of the cabin as I entered and for Kip who met me at the door. I tried to play with him in the same manner Wynn always did, but it just wasn’t quite right, and Kip backed away from me with a puzzled look in his eyes.

  I fixed a plate of stew for myself and took it and my tea to the chair before the fire. I wasn’t hungry. I ended up scraping my stew into Kip’s dish for him to finish.

  If only there was some way of knowing how long it would take Wynn to locate and apprehend the criminal. I did hope and pray there wasn’t more than one of them.

  I mended a pair of Wynn’s socks and a tear in one of my slips and then turned to a well-read book. I had read it so often I was sure I could have recited it by memory, but I couldn’t concentrate. I decided to go to bed early. Maybe the night would pass quickly.

  It didn’t. I lay awake listening to the storm. The wind was stronger now. I pictured Wynn out in the open somewhere, trying to get some sleep in the cold, wintry night.

  Kip was restless, too. He kept moving from his fireplace rug to my bed, and then back again. I was about ready to get up and shut the bedroom door to keep him in one place, and then I realized he would only sit outside my door and whine and that would be even worse.

  The night finally did come to an end, but the new day was not much better. After I dismissed my morning class, I went to visit Nimmie to help her with her little ones. She really didn’t need my help that much. She had everything well under control, but she humored me by finding small jobs for me to do.

  I trudged home through more flakes. Would it never stop snowing?

  Kip met me at the door, excited about my homecoming. I fixed some supper and gave Kip his evening meal and wondered how in the world I would fill the long evening ahead.

  It seemed forever that I went through a similar daily routine, but the calendar on the wall told me it was just six days.

  Ian was the one to bring the news. When I saw him coming toward the cabin, his long strides eating up the snow-covered ground, my heart filled with fear. Did he have bad news? He walked so purposefully.

  But when I opened the door, Ian was smiling. “An Indian trapper just stopped at the Post and said that Wynn is on the way in. I thought you’d like to know.”

  I thanked Ian, my glad heart rejoicing. He was finally coming home!

  “Did he say how long it will be?” I asked.

  “Should be here in a couple of hours. He’s bringing a prisoner, so he sent word for me to have the cell ready.”

  A prisoner! Then Wynn had found his man.

  Ian turned to go and I went to prepare a meal. Suddenly I felt very hungry and I was sure Wynn would be hungry, too.

  It was a little more than a couple of hours before I heard a dog team enter the settlement. I could tell by the strange yip of his lead dog, Flash, that it was Wynn’s team. I looked out the window. I had to scratch a spot in the frosted pane in order to see.

  I could just make out Wynn’s tall form in front of the Post. After commanding the team to lie down, he was ushering a man into the building. I knew he would care for the team before he came to the house, so there would still be a wait.

  I could hardly contain myself. It had been so long, and I was so glad to see him safely home again. I wanted to throw on my parka and run down to the settlement to join him. But I knew Wynn would have things to attend to before he would be free to come home for his supper and a much-deserved rest.

  I don’t suppose it really took Wynn all that long to do what had to be done, but it felt like a lifetime to me. Then at last I saw Kip leave his place by the fire and press his nose hard against the door, and I knew Wynn was on the way.

  This time I did not wait by the stove, letting Kip get first greeting. I ran to the door and threw it open and even before Wynn could step inside I was in his arms.

  He looked very weary, his face drawn from exhaustion. I did not hold him at the door long, but pulled him inside. I helped him remove his heavy mittens and parka, the whole time telling him how relieved I was to have him home again. Kip kept telling him that, too, with joyful little yips and great tail wagging.

  It wasn’t until Wynn crossed to his chair to remove his heavy boots that I noticed the limp.

  “What happened?” I asked in alarm.

  “I’m fine,” he replied. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “But you’re limping.”

  “A little.”

  “Is it your foot or your leg?”

  “Leg.”

  “Wynn,” I said, exasperated, “what happened?”

  “How about having some supper, and then I’ll tell you all about it?” said Wynn. “I’m absolutely starved.”

  I hurried to the stove to dish up our meal. I would not ask Wynn for more until he had eaten.

  I never did hear “all” about Wynn’s experiences. What I did hear was enough to give me chills.

  Wynn started his hunt by going to the cabin of a trapper who was reported to have purchased liquor from the trafficker. Wynn found a very sober Indian, his head in his hands. Empty bottles were strewn about his cabin. There were signs that he had been sick from the alcohol. “Gone,” he groaned out to Wynn. “All gone. All my winter’s furs, all gone.” He had traded some of the furs for the whiskey, and then when he was too intoxicated to defend himself the lawless trader had slipped away with the rest of them.

  Wynn had gone on, following the fresh trail. He found another trapper in much the same condition. Wynn pressed on. Soon he found a third. This man was still out from the liquor, and Wynn knew the trail was getting hot. However, he could not leave the Indian until he was sure he was sober enough to care for himself. The weather w
as still cold enough that one could freeze to death if left unattended.

  This delayed Wynn and he had to really push his team when he got back on the trail.

  The next cabin made Wynn realize just what kind of a man he was looking for. The trapper had apparently refused to trade his furs for the whiskey. Wynn found him dead from a gunshot wound through the heart, and the cabin was stripped of furs.

  Now Wynn knew he was up against not only a thief but a murderer as well. He knew also that the man would stop at nothing. It was imperative that Wynn get to him before more lives were lost.

  Wynn pushed the dog team for most of the night to close the gap between himself and the man. The storm had finally broken, and the moon gave enough light for Wynn to see his way.

  Near morning he stopped for some rest, more for the dogs than himself, and then he was on his way again.

  He overtook the man about noon the next day. He had stopped for a meal and had built himself a little fire for a hot cup of tea. Wynn approached cautiously, leaving his team fanned out in the snow over the hill away from the man.

  When Wynn got in close to the man’s camp, he called to him. He told him who he was and that he was coming in to get him.

  The outlaw called back, “You’ve got me, Sarge. I know when I’m licked. But at least let me have a cup of tea to thaw me out a bit before you run me on in.”

  Wynn stepped out into the open and approached the man slowly. He was almost into the camp when the man swung around with a hand gun and took a shot at Wynn, just missing as Wynn dived into the snow.

  From his concealed position behind a bank of snow, Wynn watched the outlaw. Wynn was afraid to take his attention off him for fear he would make a run for it. But the man preferred to stay close to his fire, confident that a Mountie would not shoot to kill if there was another way.

  The sun went down and the moon came out, big and bright. The man fired at Wynn just often enough to hold him at bay. All night long they lay on the snow, challenging one another, but the trader had the advantage of a small fire.