Heart of the Wilderness

by Janette Oke

  Arrangements were made to travel with another student who was going to Amy’s home community. It was a long drive by team. They had to make one stopover on the way. Amy and Kendra shared a small room over the kitchen of a farmer who took overnight paying guests.

  “This works perfectly for me,” said Amy. “It’s a place to stop for the night and we’ll be home by noon tomorrow.”

  Kendra was so excited, she could hardly sleep. Tomorrow she would discover for herself what a real family was. There had only been herself and her grandfather for as long as she could remember. She had a few scattered mental images of a laughing mother and a teasing father, but not enough for her to put together any kind of picture of a home life.

  The two girls had a simple, early breakfast the next morning and started out again with their travel companion at the reins. The morning was bright, but the day still held the chill of early spring. Kendra was glad for the heavy coat that kept the brisk breeze from freezing her bones.

  “We are almost there. Just over that next hill!” Amy exclaimed. “I can hardly wait.”

  Kendra felt the tingle go through her body.

  “I wish Reynard would hurry. I’m starved,” said fourteen-yearold Thomas.

  Amy laughed. “You’re always starved,” she teased him.

  Kendra looked again at the young boy. He was tall and lanky, almost red-headed, but his eyes were much like Amy’s. Carry, who was coming from the kitchen with a platter of fried chicken, looked much more like her mother, slight and much fairer, with a sprinkling of freckles across her upturned nose, and eyes more the color of blue cornflowers. Nell, the baby of the family at age eight, was brownhaired, her hair done in two long plaits much as Kendra had worn her own blond hair for many years. Except Nell’s darker braids were enhanced by two large green velvet bows.

  “You know that Reynard will be here just as soon as he can,” said Mrs. Preston, entering the room with a bowl of vegetables in each hand.

  Kendra had been informed that Reynard worked in the nearby town and rode horseback to and from his job each day. And that was all she knew. She was so busy studying the other members of the family that she had given very little thought to the one still missing.

  Mr. Preston entered the room, his face shining from a recent wash at the kitchen basin. He was a big man, dark like his oldest daughter. His coloring was ruddy from working outside, and his hands reminded Kendra of her grandfather’s. His face lighted easily into a teasing grin. He flashed one at Kendra now.

  “Have you ever seen such an impatient brood?” he asked her. “Sort of reminds one of a nest of young magpies. Every one wants to be fed right now. I’m sure your family is much more civilized.”

  Kendra smiled. “I was the one and only,” she admitted. “And for some time I’ve been the one getting the meal. Grandfather was most patient in waiting for it.”

  Then Kendra looked back at the table groaning with its burden of delicious-smelling dishes. “But I never fixed anything like this,” she added. “Our meals were very simple.”

  They heard the kitchen door open and close again.

  “Finally,” breathed Thomas with a mock groan. “He’s finally here.”

  Kendra could hear steps in the kitchen. Reynard had stopped to wash at the corner basin.

  “Let’s be seated,” said Mr. Preston, and the family moved in to claim the chairs around the table. One chair remained—directly across from Kendra.

  She sat silently, her hands in her lap, her eyes on the vacant chair. Steps sounded behind her, and she sensed more than saw someone stop briefly and lean over to place a kiss on top of Mrs. Preston’s head.

  “Good evening, Mama,” a low voice said.

  “Reynard, I’d like you to meet Amy’s guest from the university.

  This is Miss Marty. Kendra Marty.”

  Kendra turned slightly. She wasn’t sure if she should stand or stay seated. She was about to rise, a smile tilting her lips, when her eyes met the eyes of Reynard.

  She had expected a boy. She really didn’t know why. All the Preston children had been just that—children. Kendra had thought Amy was the family’s eldest. Now as she lifted her eyes she discovered, to her discomfort, that she was looking into the eyes of a young man. Dark, warm eyes, in a sensitive and pleasant face. Amy’s eyes. But the resemblance stopped there. Reynard was fairer than his sister, slim of frame, and thoughtful in demeanor. Amy was rather sturdy like her father, full of enthusiasm for life.

  Kendra did not rise after all. She sucked in her breath, lowered her gaze, and sank back into her chair. She had been so totally unprepared.

  “Good evening, Miss Marty. I’m pleased to meet you,” the same even voice was saying. There was warmth in his voice as well. Kendra looked up just long enough to see a hand extended toward her. She accepted it and was given a brief but sincere handshake.

  “Let’s eat,” spoke up Thomas. Reynard chuckled and moved to take his seat.

  All through the evening meal Kendra felt nervous and fidgety. She was afraid to lift her eyes for fear he might be looking her way. Yet she felt compelled to steal little glances at the man opposite her at the table. Why hadn’t Amy warned her? She would have been much better prepared had she known that this brother was not one of the children.

  But Kendra chided herself. What difference would it have made? And what could Amy have said? “I’ve got this older brother who is all grown up—and terribly good-looking?” No. Most certainly not. Besides, Kendra doubted that Amy even thought of her brother in that fashion.

  “Stop it,” she told herself. “You have rubbed shoulders with many young men in your classes, in the halls, in the cafeteria. You’ve even had an evening out with one of them. You’ve never acted like this before. Stop it.”

  And Kendra willed her wildly beating heart to slow its mad pace and allow her to enjoy the fellowship of the family supper table.

  After the dishes had been washed and returned to the cupboard shelves, Amy took her seat at the piano in the family living room and invited Kendra to join her. They sang many of the songs from church. By now they were familiar to Kendra. She enjoyed singing and could join in wholeheartedly. One by one other family members joined them. Only Thomas, whose voice was changing, held back from the song fest.

  Never had Kendra felt such joy. So this was what it was like to be a part of a big family. She had missed so much. She couldn’t help but envy Amy.

  After the singing they sat around the kitchen and drank hot cocoa and ate sugar cookies. The laughter and chatter rang through the room, and Kendra was reluctant to leave it, even though her eyes would hardly stay open.

  “We need to get you two to bed,” said Mr. Preston. “You’ll never make it up for church in the morning.”

  Kendra smiled. She was tired. But she hated to break the spell of the evening.

  “We’d better go,” said Amy with a yawn. “We have lots more nights to be together. I guess we don’t have to stay up all night on our first one.”

  Reluctantly Kendra rose to follow her friend. With a few changes in the family’s usual sleeping arrangements, the girls would be sharing Amy’s old bedroom. Kendra prepared to say good-night. Her eyes quickly traveled around the room to each family member. But when she got to Reynard, she found him looking at her. Her cheeks colored faintly, her words got all tripped up in her thinking, and she turned to follow Amy from the room.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Back to the Wilderness

  Kendra was deeply stirred by the Easter service. It was her first Easter as a new Christian, and as the pastor told the story of the Crucifixion and what it cost the Father to send the Son—and the Son to be obedient to His Father—tears filled her eyes. Wiping them away on her handkerchief, she never had felt such love.

  On the ride back to the farm, Amy started singing and soon the others had joined in. Even Thomas dared to join them in spite of his voice cracking embarrassingly every now and then.

  It was a gloriou
s experience for Kendra. Already she felt a part of this wonderful family who had taken her in so quickly and completely.

  The dinner was a simple but delicious meal. Kendra, used to a stew or Indian-style bannock, thought it a feast. She enjoyed every part of it right down to the apple pie.

  After the dishes had been washed and put away, they played a family game together. Kendra had never played a game before and had to be taught the rules. She caught on quickly and soon proved to be a very competitive player.

  When the menfolk prepared for evening chores, Kendra begged to go with them. She was anxious to see the farm and how it operated.

  She drew on a borrowed chore coat and set off with young Thomas, whose duty was to slop the pigs and feed the chickens.

  “I’ll gather the eggs,” volunteered Kendra and began to move the day’s “rent” from the boxed nests to her basket.

  Kendra didn’t care much for the pigs. They smelled awful to her sensitive nose and they pushed and shoved to get at the food in the trough, nearly knocking her off her feet.

  “Now I know why it’s an insult to call someone a hog,” Kendra quipped as she removed herself to a safe distance and brushed at the dust on her coat.

  They visited the barn where Reynard was milking a Jersey cow and laughed as he fed a barn cat with a long stream of frothy milk directly from the cow. Then they moved on to the horses, and Kendra patted each one in turn and fed them handfuls of hay. Mr. Preston was working with the horses. Kendra was especially taken with a big bay with a bold slash of white down the front of his face.

  “That’s Duke,” said Thomas. “He’s Reynard’s horse. He rides him to work every day.”

  “Where does he work?” asked Kendra casually.

  “In Stewart.”

  “Doing what?”

  “He’s a banker.”

  Kendra had expected a farm boy to be working at something quite different than banking. In fact, she didn’t know much about banking at all. She and her grandfather had never had need of a bank. They bartered for their furs, trading them for needed supplies and accepting cash for the difference or leaving the funds for credit at the small post.

  Kendra nodded and tucked the information away. Secretly she wished that Reynard was in some other occupation. A schoolteacher or keeper of books or even a clerk in a store. She had heard things about hard-hearted bankers who used their position to further their own ends.

  But Kendra said nothing more, just continued to stroke the big bay and offer him handfuls of hay that he could easily have reached on his own.

  When they returned to the house, Kendra spent a good deal of time at the kitchen basin. Even so, she couldn’t wash all the smell of the barns away. It clung to her clothes and her hair, and she was embarrassed as she joined the family at the supper table.

  No one seemed to notice. At least no one made comment. Kendra was glad for that and hoped her trip to the barn was not advertised by her very presence.

  The week went too quickly. Kendra put every thought of returning to the city out of her mind. How could Amy stand to be away from her family? Kendra wondered. Why, if she herself had a family like that, she would never leave home. Then Kendra thought of her grandfather. He was just as dear. She loved him just as much—yet she had left. Left him alone to run the trapline when she knew he needed her help. Guilt clutched at Kendra. Again she resolved that just as soon as the term was over, she would return to her grandfather. And she would not leave him alone again.

  “Would you like to go for a walk?”

  Kendra was just wiping the last of the supper plates that Amy had washed in the large dishpan. She placed the dish on the stack in the cupboard and turned slowly. Reynard stood before her, her shawl in his hands, and a teasing smile playing about his lips.

  Kendra managed a smile of her own.

  “Does she really have any choice?” quipped Amy, looking on.

  “Of course she does,” replied Reynard good-naturedly. “I know where to hang this up again.”

  But Kendra wiped her hands on the flowered apron, hung the dish towel on its bar, and turned so Reynard could drape the shawl over her shoulders.

  “It looks like a nice evening for a walk,” she replied.

  “That’s exactly what I thought,” said Reynard and winked at his sister.

  They followed the worn path through the barnyard, down the lane, and beside the small stream. Kendra had never ventured very far from the farm buildings before and enjoyed the walk. She was not used to leisurely strolls after running behind the dog team or walking at a fast pace to and from her classes.

  But this walk was totally unhurried.

  “Thomas says you work in a bank,” Kendra dared to comment. “What do bankers do?”

  If he was surprised at her question, he did not show it. “Mostly books,” he answered. “I started as a teller in the tell and—”

  “The tell?” puzzled Kendra.

  Reynard laughed. “Have you ever been in a bank?” he teased.

  Kendra smiled and shook her head. She had to admit that she had never been in a bank.

  “But I’ve heard stories about bankers,” she added, her bantering tone not entirely covering her concern.

  “Like—foreclosing mortgages and driving out widows and forcing beautiful young girls to marry them or be sent out penniless?”

  Kendra had to laugh.

  “I’ve heard those stories too,” said Reynard.

  “Are they true?” asked Kendra, still a hint of teasing in her voice but seriousness as well.

  Reynard shook his head. “Would I still be single if they were?” he asked in mock innocence.

  It was Kendra’s turn to smile.

  “What do you do?” she asked after a pause. “Seriously.”

  “Seriously? I’m pretty good at being serious. At least that’s what Amy is always telling me. ‘Oh, don’t be so serious.’ She says it often. Well, maybe I am serious—but there’s always so much to think about— to ponder. Do you mind serious men?”

  Kendra faltered. “Well—I—I don’t know. I mean—I—I’ve never given it any thought. I—to tell you the truth, I’ve never thought too much about—about men at all.”

  “I like that,” Reynard affirmed. “I’ve noticed that many girls your age seem to be thinking about men—or boys—all the time.”

  “But Amy doesn’t—”

  “Amy is too scattery to be thinking about any one thing for more than a minute at a time,” laughed Reynard. Then with deep sincerity, “And I love her—just as she is.”

  Kendra nodded mutely.

  “Now Carry. Carry is quite different. Already Carry does a good deal of thinking about boys.” Again Reynard chuckled.

  They walked in silence for a few more steps; then Reynard said, “But you asked about banking. Banking, for me, is mostly numbers. Good numbers. Bad numbers. People who have money in the bank and people who owe money to the bank. We are there to lend money if it is needed, but the big man at the top, whoever he is, he likes to be paid back. So far we have no bad debts. Oh, some people have struggled and had to have an extension on a loan. But we haven’t had to foreclose on anyone or drive widows from their houses.” He smiled again.

  “And a teller?” prompted Kendra.

  “A teller is at the cash drawer. Taking in deposits for accounts and cashing notes for customers,” he explained.

  “Oh,” said Kendra. It really didn’t sound complicated. “But you don’t do that anymore?”

  “Not anymore.” Reynard stopped to pick up a flat stone and skip it across the small pond formed by a beaver dam in the stream.

  “Ever watched beavers work?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” said Kendra softly.

  “Kind of neat little fellows,” Reynard remarked.

  Kendra nodded. She did not say that she had not only watched them work, she had worked over them, skinning them out, stretching and tacking their hides on the forms, taking their pelts to the trading post. The
thoughts racing through her mind made her shiver. Perhaps Reynard wouldn’t think much of her occupation either.

  “Are you cold?” asked Reynard and slipped out of his jacket and draped it over her shoulders before she could even answer.

  They walked on together. It was easy to chat with Reynard. Kendra felt that she had gotten to know him quite well over the week she had spent at the Prestons. Although he was gone for work during the day, he seemed to slip so easily into the family circle at night when he returned. He always stopped to wash in fresh water at the family basin, then proceeded to the table where the family was usually waiting for him. Always he stopped on the way to his chair to bend over and press a kiss on his mother’s brow or cheek or hair with an easy, “Good evening, Mama.”

  Kendra often wondered about this little ritual, but it seemed so sincere, so simple, that she couldn’t question it. If she had a mother, she would want to do the very same thing.

  “Are you enjoying university?” Reynard’s question brought Kendra’s attention back to the present.

  “I—I guess so,” began Kendra. Then she went on. “It hasn’t been what I had expected—to be truthful. In fact, the answers that I was really looking for—about nature, creation, my inner longings, God—I wouldn’t have even found them if I hadn’t met Amy. University really doesn’t give you the answers for all of that. There is so—so much taught about things. Knowledge. All for the head. Nothing for the heart.”

  Reynard nodded in understanding.

  “But it’s good—if one wants to be something—like a teacher—or a doctor—or . . .”

  Kendra finished lamely, giving her shoulder a slight shrug.

  “And you don’t plan to be any of those things?”

  “No. No, I just came because I wanted to learn. I’d never been to school—except for a few horrible months. Papa Mac—Grandfather— taught me, and then when I was old enough I studied on my own. And I had all of these—these unanswered questions. Nonie—the Indian woman who took care of me—tried to answer some of them with her Indian tales. I—I think I could have believed her, but Papa Mac said they were only myths. Totally untrue.”