Heart of the Wilderness

by Janette Oke

  Kendra looked up at the frosted window. She knew that she would see nothing through the iced-over pane of glass, so she rose and crossed to the door. They never had visitors unless another trapper dropped by for a cup of coffee and a bit of a chat, and that happened so rarely that Kendra couldn’t remember the last time.

  A team of only four dogs pulled up before the cabin. Kendra was not used to seeing a sled pulled by a team of four. All the trappers around their area used at least six dogs on their sleighs. She did not recognize anything about the fur-bundled figure who moved around the sled, then spoke sharply to the dogs who dropped down quickly to the snow. His head bent into the wind, he moved forward toward the cabin.

  Kendra stepped back, holding the door open for the stranger. He didn’t see her until he was about to step up onto the small porch. Then his head came up and he paused.

  “Thank the good Lord!” he uttered with a strange accent. “I feared I would never reach a cabin alive.”

  Kendra said nothing, just nodded the man inside and closed the door quickly behind him. He pushed back his fur parka. His beard was covered with ice.

  “I thought I would die on the trail,” he added. “I prayed for a cabin. Someplace to take shelter.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Kendra indicating the fireplace. Her little flame had burned up the kindling and gone out while she was at the door. “I just got in. I haven’t even got the fire going.”

  “Well, at least I am out of the frigid wind,” the man went on, drawing off his heavy mittens. “Here—let me start the fire for you,” he said.

  He bent before the fireplace and reached for kindling. Kendra bit her tongue. He was using far more of the precious fuel than was needed to get a fire started.

  “Where are your matches?” he asked.

  Kendra handed him the coffee can. He struggled with the lid. Kendra noticed that his fingers were clumsy. Likely he was even colder than she had been. With the fourth match he finally got a flame. Kendra wished she could ask him to move aside so she could carefully add larger pieces of wood to the fire. She was afraid to speak so watched as he bumbled the job and had to start all over with fresh kindling, depleting their precious supply still further.

  “Why don’t you thaw your hands in water,” said Kendra, indicating the basin in the corner. “Your fingers must be half frozen.” The man nodded and got up from his knees, and Kendra seized the opportunity to take over the fire lighting.

  “The water’s frozen,” the man said as he turned from the basin.

  Kendra had thought that it might be. “I’ll get some snow,” she said. “It works just as well.”

  But she didn’t go for the snow until she was sure the fire had taken hold and would be ready to receive larger chunks of wood.

  “It will soon be warm,” she told the man. “I’ll build a fire in the stove too.”

  She hastened to start the second fire and then took the basin from the shelf to scoop up some snow.

  “Just use a little at a time,” she said. “Frozen fingers need to be thawed slowly.”

  “I don’t think they are frozen—yet,” said the man. “But they sure are cold. It wouldn’t have been much longer until more than my fingers would have been frozen.”

  Kendra nodded. Again she thought of her grandfather.

  “Are you here alone?” the man asked her.

  “No. My grandfather is out checking the traps,” replied Kendra and reached for her heavy mittens. “I’ve put some water on for tea,” she said. “You take off your wraps and sit by the fire as soon as it starts giving off some warmth. I need to care for the dogs. I’ll tether yours at the north side of the house.”

  The man nodded. “You are an angel of God,” he told her.

  Kendra puzzled over his strange words as she stepped out into the cold air and began to unharness and tether the sled dogs. As soon as her own team was unharnessed, she moved to care for the four dogs of the stranger. When she had them all securely tied, she went to the shed for frozen meat for the dogs.

  A loud clamor greeted her as she returned with their daily portions of meat, but soon all the dogs were much too busy eating to be making further noise. Kendra cast one last glance around the circles to be sure she hadn’t missed any animal and returned to the cabin.

  She could feel the heat as soon as she opened the door. It was a pleasant welcome on such a cold day. She shrugged from her furs and hung them on the peg on the cabin wall.

  The man was standing in front of the fireplace, his furs tossed on the floor behind him, his hands spread to the blaze.

  “Don’t warm up too quickly,” Kendra cautioned him.

  “I couldn’t warm up too quickly,” he replied with a laugh.

  Kendra did not wish to argue. She crossed to the stove and added a bit more wood under the kettle. It would soon be singing and she would be able to make them tea.

  “My name is John Blackman,” he told her.

  Kendra responded with her name and then said, “I’m going to start a fire in my room. Why don’t you pull the rocker up to the side of the fire?” At least then he won’t get faint and collapse, thought Kendra as she went to build the fire in her bedroom fireplace.

  When she came back to the room, the man was sitting in the rocker. His face was flushed, his eyes glazed. Kendra hastened to make the tea. She wished to coax him away from the direct heat.

  “This will help warm us,” said Kendra. She placed the tea on the table and drew two cups from the shelf. Then she sliced some bread and spread it with blueberry jam.

  Mr. Blackman left the rocker and joined her at the table. Kendra breathed a sigh of relief.

  For several minutes they sipped their tea in silence. The warmth of the liquid seemed to loosen his tongue.

  “I just came from Bent River Crossing,” he told her. “I’m on my way to Kenakee Falls.”

  Kendra looked up. Kenakee Falls was a long way from their area.

  “Fellow at the trading post tried to talk me into staying on there until there was a break in the weather. I should have listened to him. Didn’t realize how cold it was.”

  Kendra nodded.

  Kenakee Falls was another Indian settlement. There was not even a post there as far as Kendra knew. Why would this white man be heading there?

  It was not polite to ask another’s business, so Kendra waited for Mr. Blackman to go on.

  “We are going to start a church there,” he said. “Take religion to the Indian people.”

  Kendra felt her eyes widen. The Indians had religion. Her grandfather maintained that they had far too much religion for their own good. Why would this outsider want to take them more?

  Kendra poured more tea.

  “We hope to start churches all through the area,” the man went on.

  Kendra remembered pictures of churches from one of her books about Europe. They were huge buildings with spires and turrets and beautiful windows. But Kendra wondered how, and why, this man and others would build such a building for the Indians.

  “We have asked God to bless us so that by 1930 there will be no more pagans in northwest Canada.”

  Pagans. Kendra did not know the word. But the man was speaking with such intensity that she knew his cause touched him deeply. Kendra made a mental note to look up the word in her dictionary later that evening.

  “Have you always lived here?” Mr. Blackman asked, changing the conversation.

  “No,” replied Kendra. “I came from north of Edmonton when I was almost four.”

  “Have you been back?” asked the man.

  “To Edmonton. Once,” said Kendra. “To school.”

  “Of course,” said the man with a nod of understanding. Kendra did not bother explaining further.

  “And you live with your grandfather?”

  Kendra nodded.

  “No grandmother?”

  “My grandmother died before I was born,” replied Kendra.

  “And your folks?”

  “I lost
them the spring before I came with Grandfather.”

  Mr. Blackman shook his head sympathetically. “You poor thing,” he said solemnly.

  “I’ve liked living with Grandfather,” replied Kendra simply. “He’s been good to me.”

  The man seemed about to get up, and Kendra was afraid he would cross to the fire again. He’d had a chance to warm up a bit and the tea would have helped considerably. Still, she worried that it might be too much heat too soon.

  “Would you like to lie down on Grandfather’s bed for a while?” she asked him. “There’s a heavy blanket there that you can just pull over you.”

  To her relief he nodded his head. “I am a bit done in after the trip,” he said. “That wind was almost more than I could fight against. Might not hurt to just rest for a few minutes.”

  Kendra watched with relief as he settled himself and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Soon soft snoring filled the room. Kendra was relieved to hear the sound. She turned her thoughts back to her grandfather. She did hope he would soon be home.

  The man slept the entire afternoon. Kendra moved about quietly as she prepared the evening meal. She wondered if the aroma might waken him, but still he slept.

  Kendra kept an eye on the faint sun that hung listlessly on the western rim of the sky. She longed to hear the sound of her grandfather’s team. It would soon be dark. Was he okay?

  Kendra was placing another log on the fire when she heard Oscar cry out. Oscar was always the first of her team to be alerted to something. His yip was quickly followed by welcoming staccato yaps. Kendra knew that her grandfather would soon be home. She reached for her fur jacket and heavy mittens. She would take care of the team and let him enjoy the warmth of the cabin.

  After the supper hour the two men had a long visit in front of the fireplace. George had many questions to ask Mr. Blackman about the world outside.

  “Edmonton is growing quickly,” the man informed him.

  George nodded. He had not been out to Edmonton for some time. He had been getting all of the supplies he needed at the local post or else ordering them in. He had not even been to see Maggie since Henry had died. He chided himself about that fact.

  “And Calgary is becoming quite a city as well,” the man went on.

  “But you are from the East?” asked George.

  “From England originally,” replied the man. “But I’ve been in Canada for seven years now.”

  The visit continued. Kendra listened quietly as she washed up the supper dishes and melted the snow she would need for the next day’s water supply. She found the discussion of the outside world most interesting, and it served only to intensify her longing for answers.

  Why was this man coming from the cities to the far reaches of the wilderness? Why did he think that the Indian people needed more religion? Her grandfather assured her that religion was of no consequence. Why bother with it then?

  Kendra finished the last of her chores and went to her room to look up the word pagan in the dictionary. “A heathen; idolater,” the book told her. Kendra frowned and flipped back through the pages until she came to the word heathen. This had a bit more. “Heathen. One who does not believe in the God of the Bible; one who is neither a Christian, Jew, nor Mohammedan; an irreligious person; pagan.”

  Kendra read it over again. “One who does not believe in the God of the Bible,” she said to herself in a whisper. “What is the Bible?” She had never heard Nonie speak of the Bible. Yet her grandfather said that Nonie could find a god under every stone and behind every bush. It was all very strange.

  The next morning the wind had calmed and the sun was shining feebly, though it was still cold. After their visitor had been breakfasted and sent on his way back to the trading post to wait for better weather before traveling on to Kenakee Falls, Kendra dared broach what had been troubling her mind.

  “Papa Mac,” she said, “are we pagans?”

  “Pagans?” His head came up and his eyes darkened. “That fella say something?” he asked her.

  “No. Not really about—about us. But—he said they hope that by 1930 there will be no pagans left in northwest Canada,” said Kendra.

  Her grandfather surprised her by chuckling. “He did, did he? Seems to me he’s taking on a pretty big job.”

  “He’s going to Kenakee Falls,” went on Kendra.

  “I know. He told me,” said George, shrugging into his heavy coat. It was time to check the trapline again.

  “I looked up pagan in the dictionary,” went on Kendra.

  “And—?” prompted her grandfather.

  “It said ‘heathen.’ And then it said that a heathen is a person who doesn’t believe in the God of the Bible. Which one is that?”

  George couldn’t help but chuckle again. Nonie had introduced Kendra to so many gods. Yet none of them came from the Bible. At least not to his knowledge—though he would have admitted that he knew very little about what the Bible contained.

  Then he quickly sobered. Maybe it wasn’t so amusing after all.

  He answered slowly, “Really doesn’t matter much as far as I can see,” said George as he drew on a mitten. “It’s all just a bunch of stories. Just different versions, that’s all.”

  “So we are pagans, then?” pressed Kendra.

  He reached out and pinched her cheek. “Some folks might call us that,” he answered truthfully. “Isn’t the way I think of it.”

  “But who—who is the God of the Bible?” asked Kendra.

  Her grandfather turned to the door and Kendra knew that he would soon be out on the trail again. “Just the white man’s version of the Indian myths,” he told her, and with a nod he left the cabin, closing the door firmly against the cold.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hard Winter

  The cold snap continued. Kendra now dreaded the daily round of checking the traps. She feared more for her grandfather than for herself, but he insisted that they needed the money from the furs and went out each day as usual.

  Kendra, too, left the cabin each morning as soon as it was light enough to see the trail. In spite of the weather, she did have fair returns from her traps. Each day she tallied the little account she was saving toward her schooling. She really had no idea how much money it would cost, but she knew she would need to work hard to save enough if she wished to go in her eighteenth year.

  The cold weather was hard on their wood supply. Kendra watched as the pile that had seemed so big in the fall grew smaller and smaller every day. She still took Nonie a sleigh filled with wood every other day. The cold made it necessary for her to pile the wood a little higher on the sled. The dogs sometimes complained about the load, but Kendra preferred one hard trip to two lighter ones and helped ease the burden by throwing her weight behind the sleigh on the upgrades. Nonie needed to have wood for her fire.

  It seemed that every task was just a bit harder in the inclement weather. Kendra’s fingers often felt numb, her cheeks close to freezing in spite of her efforts to keep exposed skin from frostbite. The river ice had to be chopped to reach water for the pail or else she had to thaw snow to fill the water buckets. She didn’t know which task was the most difficult to take and alternated the one with the other.

  Kendra began to wonder if there would ever be a break in the weather. Just after the first of the new year, there was some relief when the temperature climbed and the sun actually shone on the frigid world.

  “Have you had any trouble?”

  The words came from the red-coated Mountie who shared their supper table. He was the second visitor they’d had in the space of a few months.

  “No,” said George after giving the question some thought. “I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Well, we’ve had reports that someone has been tampering with traps in the area. I’m going on up to Wingate to ask a few questions and see what I can find out. I’ll be back through in a week or two. I’ll stop around and see if there’s any reason for concern.”

&nb
sp; George nodded. Stealing from traps was a serious offense. Trappers would not tolerate it. If, in fact, someone was caught in the act, the person making the discovery might well take matters into his own hands. It was no wonder that the Mountie was concerned.

  The conversation was not lost on Kendra. She said nothing, but a few discomforting thoughts began to whirl in her thinking. Her traps had not been doing as well of late. She had feared that perhaps she was trapping out the area—that the smaller animals had moved on to another range. But maybe—maybe someone else was taking advantage of her traps.

  After the Mountie had thanked her for the meal, shrugged back into his heavy parka and left the cabin, Kendra still mulled over his words. Had she missed something? Were there signs that she should have caught?

  “Papa Mac,” she said after George had returned to the cabin, “I wonder if I have had someone bothering my trapline.”

  George looked up from the moccasin he was lacing. “You’ve spotted something?” he asked.

  “Well—no. That is—nothing in particular, but it does seem as if I’ve had poor catches lately. I’ve been very careful when setting the traps to hide them well and cover the scent and sprinkle fresh snow over my tracks. And I never take the team too close.

  “There are still animal tracks through the area. It seems the game is there—I’m just not having the catch that I should have. At least I’m not getting the catch.”

  George lowered himself to the chair by the table and proceeded to put on his other moccasin.

  “Well—keep a sharp lookout,” he advised. “If anything looks suspicious let me know.”

  Kendra nodded.

  They both put on their warmest outer wear. They were facing another day on the trail to check the traplines.

  “I knew it,” said Kendra, bent over her trap. “Someone has been stealing.”

  Anger filled her. It was hard work running the trapline. If someone wanted the benefit of trapping, they should be willing to do the work for themselves. It wasn’t fair to reap from another’s labors.