[Canadian West 04] - When Hope Springs New

by Janette Oke

  Most of the campfires had been neglected and allowed to burn out. Only a few women stirred cooking pots. I knew those who lay strewn around on the shore would be hungry when they awakened. I skirted around them, careful to avoid disturbing them, and after a walk and a wash in the chilly lake water, I went to my own campfire.

  Silver Star smiled shyly at me as she continued to stir the pot.

  “Did you get sleep?” I asked her, covering a yawn and wondering if she, too, had been in on the festivities.

  She shook her head. “About as much as night owl in bush,” she said.

  Turning back to her kettle of hot cornmeal, she asked, “You eat now?”

  Since we did not have enough dishes to feed everyone at the same time, we took turns. Usually everyone was fed before I took my turn, but now with the others still sleeping and much to be done, I nodded to Silver Star.

  “We both eat,” I told her, and realized I was hungry. “Where’s LaMeche? We should feed him, too.”

  “He borrowed horse and gun and went out.”

  He must have realized that we would have very little help from the men who had expended all their energies in the night of revelry. I hoped he would have some luck—we were going to need lots of meat.

  As I looked around at the sleeping villagers, a heaviness pressed in upon me. If only Wynn would come. It was so hard to be responsible for all of them. I didn’t want the task. I had not asked for it, yet it had somehow fallen on my shoulders.

  I heaved a heavy sigh and turned back to the fire. Silver Star was holding out a dish of the hot gruel. I was hungry, but my stomach had no appetite for tasteless cornmeal again. I took it with a rather reluctant hand and began to spoon it slowly to my mouth. How long would we have to live like this? Dear Lord, help us, I prayed. And then I remembered I hadn’t even thanked the Father for my breakfast. I looked at it. Could I be thankful? Yes, of course. We could be in this situation with nothing—nothing at all. I was thankful God had allowed us the time to get a few supplies from the trading post. At least we weren’t starving. I bowed my head and prayed again.

  The children were the first to come looking for food. Because their parents still slept, Silver Star and I were kept busy trying to fill hungry tummies. We cooked cornmeal, served breakfast, washed dishes, cooked cornmeal, served breakfast, washed dishes—over and over again.

  I could hear Wynn’s dog team over on the little island protesting that they had not been fed, but I had nothing to feed them. It was after the noon hour and still LaMeche had not returned. Very few of the Indian men had aroused. Those who had stirred looked for something to eat, and when they found nothing, returned to their blankets.

  The women, too, were still not up. I began to worry that if they slept all day, they would be ready to dance again all night. I even considered awakening them and assigning them tasks in the hopes they would be tired at nightfall. But I was not quite brave enough to do that.

  By the slant of the sun it was around two o’clock when the chief crawled from his blankets. Because none of his three wives were stirring a pot at his own fire, he came to ours. I sensed tenseness from Silver Star. She lowered her eyes and shifted her slender body uneasily.

  The chief began the conversation with a grunt. I assumed that that was his way of announcing he was now ready to eat. I shifted nervously as well, but actually I was tired and put out with the whole lot of them.

  Why should a few carry the whole load? And why should it be the women? Why couldn’t he get his braves off the ground and out on the trail for a buck?

  I lowered my eyes as I was expected to do, but did not move forward to get a dish of food for the chief. Since Silver Star considered this “my fire,” she did not offer the chief food either.

  When neither of us moved forward, the chief took a seat on a log and grunted again.

  Still I did not move. I stood quietly, my eyes studying the unkempt toes of my only pair of shoes.

  “Hungry now,” the chief stated in a rather unnecessarily loud voice.

  I raised my eyes just a fraction. “Chief honors our fire,” I said and took a deep breath, “but Chief not know he is at wrong fire. Camp is broken up into campfires, and this humble place not where great Chief eats. His cooking pots at fire near tall pine trees, a fitting place for chief to eat.”

  I stopped and waited to see what would happen. Silver Star had stopped her stirring, and I could almost feel her holding her breath. The chief looked at me with wonder in his eyes, then grunted again and stood up. He was going to leave our fire without a word. I breathed again.

  Then he stopped and turned, one finger pointed to the pot of simmering vegetables.

  “What in pot?” he asked me.

  “Vegetables. Vegetables from my garden on island.”

  He sniffed. Then stepped closer and sniffed again. He looked directly at me, and this time I did not lower my eyes. I had expressed enough submission to his authority. He was at my fire, he was questioning me, I was the wife of the lawman, not under his rule. I stood straight and kept my eyes level with his.

  “You grow there?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am told island did not burn.”

  “It did not.”

  The chief studied me more closely, his dark, sharp eyes sending messages I did not understand.

  “You make strong medicine,” he said.

  “It not medicine,” I corrected him with a shake of my head. “It is food.”

  “Make strong medicine,” he repeated, “to make food grow on cursed island and to make fire turn and run.”

  And then he was gone, his stiff, straight back sending out signals even in his departure, that he was the chief of his people.

  I turned back to Silver Star. She resumed stirring the cooking pot.

  “What chief mean?” I asked her in a low voice.

  It was not a mystery to Silver Star. She looked at me shyly and then explained, “Chief Crow Calls Loud says you have great power to make food to grow where evil curse had been. When one makes good to come from evil, then one has more power than evil that was there before.”

  “But—but—” I stammered. “I have no powers—none.”

  “Then why plants grow? Why Great One lead you from fire? Why you have wisdom to know what to do?”

  “I ... do not ... Is this what all village thinks?”

  Silver Star just dipped her head again, as though in the presence of one greater than she. I was confused and ashamed. How could these people be so—so superstitious as to believe I was some—some sorceress or something? I was greatly disturbed.

  Oh, God, I prayed, Please send Wynn back soon.

  The chief had roused one of his wives, who had in turn wakened some of his children. She turned to the pots, and the children scattered to find wood for the fire. I watched the proceedings, shivering uneasily over the awesome position they had bestowed upon me. Suddenly a new thought came to me. I squared my shoulders, swallowed a couple of times, brushed at the wrinkles in my dirty skirt and headed for the chief’s fire.

  TWENTY

  Relief

  Chief Crow Calls Loud was sitting on a big rock next to his family’s firepit, his back to his middle wife who was coaxing a small flame to life. I cleared my throat so he would know I wished an audience with him. When he grunted in return, I dared to lift my eyes and begin to speak.

  “Great chief gives honor to welcome me to speak to him.” I hesitated, searching for the right words.

  “I come to Chief Crow Calls Loud to speak of garden. I know my garden is planted on island where none dared to go because of evil spell. I have no power over such evil. I am woman—white woman—who knows little about Indians’ spells, and I am not strong against them. But I know Great God of all heaven and earth—same God who made all things and rules over all people.” He stared impassively at me, and I breathed a prayer for wisdom.

  “He is One who gives knowledge and power,” I continued. “In His name I come to Chief. This m
ighty people of Chief in need because fire took village. We need much food for many people. We need skilled braves to hunt deer and elk and moose.” He was watching me very carefully now. He seemed to be interested in spite of himself. I said, “We need many hands to gather pine boughs to build shelters. If rains come again, people will not be warm and dry. We must build now.

  “We need young maidens to gather long marsh grasses to weave baskets, and nets to catch fish. Young men who know ways of fish brothers must drag nets so fish will fill our pots to cook.

  “We need children to gather sticks from forest to keep fires under pots.

  “We must all work together to care for village,” I concluded a bit breathlessly. It had been a longer speech than I had intended to deliver, but the chief was kind enough to give me his total attention. When I was finished he nodded his head. He stood silently for several minutes and then spoke, “What does Golden-Haired Woman want from chief?”

  “Someone to tell people what must be done.”

  “You tell.”

  “No longer. I tell the people when only women and children, sick and elderly in camp. Now men have returned. Chief is back. Not fitting for woman to still give orders.”

  He thought about that. Then he nodded again.

  “You tell me,” he said. “I give orders.”

  “First you must choose best hunters to find meat for pots to cook,” I began, concerned that I would need to go over the whole thing again.

  The chief called his oldest son. The young man had not stirred since his wild dancing of the night before. I had thought that nothing would waken him, but as the sharp command rang out from his father, he was on his feet.

  “Much to do,” the chief told him sternly. Then he began to talk so swiftly in his native tongue that I was able to catch only a few words here and there.

  The son listened in rapt attention. I gathered as the chief talked that he had relayed my total message. He slowed down near the end and I could follow the conversation again.

  “When all done,” he concluded, “ask Golden-Haired One if she need more.”

  I took a deep breath and stepped back a pace. I hadn’t expected to be so successful. Even now the eldest son was awakening other men and giving them assignments. Some seemed groggy and displeased with the assignment, but no one questioned him.

  The chief then called to his oldest wife and gave her the job of organizing the women for their tasks.

  He called the youngest wife and put her to work rounding up the children for the duties of carrying wood for the fires.

  In a few minutes the whole scene had changed. From a people sleeping all over the lakeshore in the sun, everyone was now busy with some assigned task. It was unbelievable.

  The chief turned back to me. “More?” he asked. “No.” I stammered. “No—no more now. Chief brings me joy, and I ... I ...” How did one say “thank you for your cooperation” in the Indian tongue? I searched my mind quickly but came up with no word. “People will eat and be happy,” I finished lamely...

  I lowered my gaze for my dismissal and stepped away from his family campfire.

  When I returned to my own fire, Silver Star looked at me with wonder. She said nothing but busied herself adding fuel to the fire.

  LaMeche, who had returned from his hunt, was eating some vegetable stew, and his eyes looked at me with amusement.

  “What you say to get great chief to dance to your drum?” he asked me, smiling.

  I ignored his teasing. “I tell him we need hands of everyone if we are to eat,” I answered simply.

  He grinned.

  “You have magic powers,” he stated.

  I spun around and looked at him, my eyes snapping. But I tried to hold my voice steady.

  “I have no magic,” I informed him quietly. “Magic not needed when work is done.” I repeated, “Not magic—work” with great emphasis.

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  I gave him one cold look that only made him laugh harder.

  “I think Chief wise. Better not to get you angry. You are worse than injured bear.” And he laughed again.

  I could not be angry for long. His laughter was what I needed to forget the heavy burdens of the last few days.

  “You laugh,” I told him. “You not laugh when you hear what I give you to do.”

  LaMeche and Silver Star exchanged glances and he groaned.

  “No, no!” he exclaimed. “I have done my duty, is that not so, Silver Star?”

  Silver Star avoided meeting his eyes again, but she smiled ever so slightly.

  “What have you done?” I asked LaMeche.

  “I brought meat for your pot to cook.”

  “You did?” I was excited now. The teasing could wait. “What did you get?”

  “One fat porcupine, two rabbits—and one moose.”

  “You did not—you tease now.”

  “No, no. I do not tease. Ask Silver Star. She already has meat in pot.”

  I bent over it to sniff. He was right.

  I smiled at him. “Then you do work. We can eat tonight. And I feed dogs. Sled team asks for food all day.”

  “Do they ask now?” inquired LaMeche.

  I listened. I could not hear the dogs.

  LaMeche smiled again. “I feed them,” he said. “Who can stand noise of hungry dogs?”

  I nodded my thanks to LaMeche, fearful that my voice might catch if I tried to speak.

  The sun was just hanging low in the western sky when Chief Crow Calls Loud’s middle wife came to see me.

  “My husband say he want talk with you.”

  I was apprehensive. What did this mean? Only men were asked to the chief’s council. Reluctantly I followed her to the chief’s campfire. He did not stand to welcome me but motioned me toward a seat beside him on furs spread on the ground.

  I sat down and waited for him to speak.

  “It is done. All you say,” he informed me. “Hunters find meat. Two deer, one bear. Women carry pine branches, make warm shelters. Tomorrow nets will be finished to catch fish. Fires burn. People warm and full.”

  He waited and I knew he wanted me to respond.

  “It is good,” I said.

  He solemnly nodded his head.

  Then I went on, “Tomorrow men must hunt again. Women must finish nets and young men must fish. We need more baskets. More mats.”

  He nodded and without further talk I was dismissed. I was returning to my own campfire when I heard a commotion off to the side. Someone was entering the camp from the west-side trail, hurrying toward us.

  And then across the distance I recognized Wynn! With a joyous cry I raced toward him.

  “Elizabeth!” he exclaimed as he threw his arms around me. “Oh, thank God you’re safe,” he cried, pulling me close while I held him and wept on his scarlet tunic.

  He brushed back the hair that curled around my face. In the absence of a comb I had run my fingers through it and braided it like the Indian people, but the little curls insisted on coming loose.

  “I was so frightened when I came back to the village,” he whispered in my hair. “I didn’t know what had become of you.”

  I stifled my sobs and tried to speak. “I’m fine. Now that you’re here, I’m fine.”

  “Oh, my darling,” he said and pulled me close again.

  We did not talk for many minutes and then Wynn pulled back and studied me carefully.

  “Has it been hard for you—being here with all these people who—who mistrust you?”

  For a moment I was stunned. In the days since the fire I had not stopped to think about the way my situation had changed. Only a short time ago the village people would not even speak to me. As Wynn said, they considered me an outsider, an impostor—but now? Now the chief called me to council. Now all the village did my bidding. Now they wanted to attribute to me magical powers.

  I began to laugh. Wynn must have thought the strain of it all was more than I could bear. He looked at me intently, hi
s eyes anxious.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him. “Fine, and so glad you are back. I missed you so much. There was no one to take charge.”

  Wynn looked around at the family firepits, the shelters, the meat hung in the trees, the fishnet that was taking shape, the newly formed baskets. “It looks very well organized to me,” he commented.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later,” I promised. “Right now I just want to hear that you’ll never leave me again.”

  I knew Wynn couldn’t promise me that, and he knew that I knew it—still, I was glad he held me close for a moment before we turned to the fire and the cookpot to get his supper. He looked at the size of the stew that was simmering. Then he looked back at me.

  “It looks like you are cooking for an army,” he said.

  “Not an army. Just our ‘family.’ It’s grown a bit since you left, and they will soon all be coming for their supper, so you’d better hurry and eat. We’ll need to wash that dish you are using about four times before we get them all fed.”

  Then I laughed and kissed Wynn on his stubbled cheek.

  “You were gone so long, I was worried,” I told him. “Thank God you are finally back.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  Reunion

  After the evening meal was served to all our little group and the dishes washed and set out to dry, Wynn and I sat around the fire with LaMeche and visited while Silver Star put her children to bed. I had not been watching her, so I did not notice she went to a pine-bough shelter instead of the make-shift shelter between the wagons.

  I knew our crowded quarters would not house Wynn now too, but he and LaMeche were talking so I wasn’t able to make plans.

  Wynn wanted to know all the circumstances of the fire, and LaMeche explained it all in great detail, using all his Indian vocabulary plus his French heritage of gestures. He made such a heroine out of me that I blushed with embarrassment.

  LaMeche told Wynn how I had organized the women and children to care for themselves and one another after the fire, and then when the chief and the men came back, I again had gotten things going.

  Wynn’s eyes were big with wonder. It was so uncharacteristic of me and such a reversal of my previous contact with the Indians that he could scarcely believe it. Now that I thought about it, I found it hard to believe myself.