[Canadian West 04] - When Hope Springs New

by Janette Oke

  “Then he doesn’t know?”

  “I wanted to talk to you before I talked to anyone else,” Wynn informed me.

  I smiled at him. “Thank you,” I said softly. “I’m glad I was first.”

  He took my hand then and we started back to the campsite. I knew I would see it differently in the days that lay ahead. Each time I looked around me, I would be thinking, “I will leave this soon.” It would make a difference. Undoubtedly the tears would fall at times.

  “Wynn,” I said as we walked, “there is something that I have wished to speak to you about. I am concerned about Kinnea and Kinook. What will happen to them? Will they be given a cabin of their own again? What if they aren’t? I’m really concerned about them, Wynn.”

  “I am, too,” returned Wynn. “I hear that Chief Crow Calls Loud has been looking at Kinook.”

  I stopped in my tracks and stared at Wynn. “No!” I said. “Surely not?”

  “She could be in worse circumstances,” Wynn assured me.

  “But the fourth wife? Who would ever want such a position? She would be the servant of all the rest of them.”

  “Until she bore her first child, maybe.”

  “A child? She is still a child herself. Wynn, that’s unthinkable! Can’t you do something?”

  “Our laws do not govern their marriages, Elizabeth. You know that.”

  “Can’t we take her with us,” I blurted out. “Both of them. Can’t we get some kind of custody and—”

  “Do you think they’d be happy?” Wynn asked softly.

  I started to say that of course they would, but even before the words formed I knew it was wrong. The two girls would be happy only in their own village, with their own people.

  It seemed a hopeless situation. I swallowed the lump in my throat and took Wynn’s hand again. In my heart I prayed for wisdom and God’s help as I walked. Surely there was something that could be done—some way to make arrangements for them. I prayed that the Lord would work on their behalf.

  The next evening Wynn invited me to go with him to care for the dog team. I went readily enough, but inwardly I suspected that he might have other reasons for asking for my company.

  I was right. As soon as we passed from earshot of the village people, Wynn took my hand and slowed my stride. We never felt free to talk for very long in front of the Indians when we wanted a private conversation. We both knew they could not understand our English, yet we couldn’t bring ourselves to discuss a private matter in front of them.

  “I had a long talk with LaMeche,” Wynn informed me.

  I turned to Wynn in my eagerness, forgetting to take a forward step, nearly tripping over my own feet.

  “Why don’t we sit down for a minute?” Wynn asked me, nodding toward a shaded spot near the path.

  We took our seat and Wynn idly picked a blade of tall grass, broke a piece of it and put it in his mouth. I could almost taste it, cool and sweet.

  “LaMeche was excited to hear that he will get help in rebuilding and restocking his post,” said Wynn. “He can hardly wait for the supplies to get here—but I’ve this strange notion that it might have more to do with Silver Star than with the trading post.” Wynn smiled.

  “He is quite willing for the Mountie who comes to relieve us to have a small room,” Wynn continued. “Later’ he will let the Force have the room for a temporary cell as they had hoped.

  “After the two of us had discussed this for a while,” said Wynn, taking both my hands in his, “he started asking me some questions about you—about how a white woman in these circumstances could have the inner strength and the wisdom to save the whole village from certain destruction.”

  I was watching Wynn’s face carefully, my mind racing ahead to what he might be telling me.

  “I explained to him that without God’s inspiration and help, you probably would not have been able to do what you did. He looked so interested and so—so wistful at the same time that I went on to explain to him about our faith in Jesus Christ.

  “‘I wish I had a faith like that,’ was his comment. I could hardly believe my ears—” Wynn’s voice was full of deep emotion as he talked. “The people here have never showed the slightest bit of interest in Jesus or in our faith when I’ve talked about it in the past. I told LaMeche that he could have a faith like that. I told him that Jesus died for him—that he could repent of his sin, receive the Lord Jesus as his Savior, and be born into God’s family.”

  I’m sure my eyes were as full of wonder and joy as Wynn’s when he said, “And you know what, Elizabeth? LaMeche did just that! We prayed together on a log out there in the woods, and he is now a Christian!”

  The tears rolled down my cheeks as I thanked the Lord for this one small light in the spiritual darkness of Smoke Lake. “Oh, Lord,” I prayed, “help him to be strong and to grow and to convince others here to follow his example.”

  “LaMeche said something else that I think will make you very happy,” Wynn went on, and then hesitated, driving me mad with curiosity.

  “Silver Star had already spoken to him. It seems that she has gotten quite attached to the two orphan girls.”

  I held my breath.

  “Silver Star has asked LaMeche if he would mind if they took them. Kinook will soon be of marriageable age, but Kinnea would have two or more years to be on her own yet. It seems that Silver Star has been as worried about them as you have.”

  I bowed my head in another prayer of thanks. Then I asked God to also bless Silver Star for her love and concern. I would have no apprehension about leaving the two young girls in the care of Silver Star and her new husband.

  “Oh, Wynn,” I said, “that’s a real answer to prayer. I never even thought of Silver Star taking them. That’ll be perfect! They already love her and her little ones.”

  “But there is something else, too,” Wynn went on, “and I think that it will make you equally as happy.”

  “What?” I prompted, wondering what in the world could make me as happy as that last bit of news.

  “I dared to have a talk with the chief.”

  “And?”

  “And he heard me out—very patiently. I told him of my concern. And I dared to tell him of the concern of the white woman—you. And he nodded solemnly and then passed a decree that no man in the village shall take gifts to Kinook until the frost comes a year from now.”

  “Oh, Wynn,” I cried, “did he really? Did he really say that?”

  “He did. And he made sure that every male in the village knows about it, too.”

  A new, more sobering thought struck me. Did the chief pass his law to save the young girl for himself? I didn’t like to think of it.

  “Why?” I asked Wynn. “Why do you think he did that? Was it to protect her for himself? She is very pretty, Wynn.”

  “If he wanted her for himself,” said Wynn, “there would be nothing stopping him from taking her right now.”

  “I know, but maybe even he realizes she is still too young.”

  “Then give him a little credit—even if he does want her for his fourth wife, at least he is willing to give her a little time to grow up. Let’s be thankful for that, Elizabeth.”

  Then Wynn continued, “I am more inclined, however, to think that the chief might want Kinook for a wife for his oldest son. He didn’t say so directly—but I caught him looking in the young brave’s direction as we talked. I wouldn’t be surprised if the boy has let his wishes be known to his father.”

  I pictured the young brave. Come to think of it, I had seen him strutting past our campfire on more than one occasion. I was sure that Kinook, though she kept her eyes properly lowered, had seen him, too. I smiled.

  “That would be nice—sometime in the future,” I murmured.

  “In the future,” repeated Wynn. “For now let’s be glad that she will be allowed to grow up.”

  Wynn was right. For now Kinook would have a home where she was loved and cared for. At least she would not need to be a child brid
e. A year was not long, but perhaps by then she would be ready to receive gifts from the young Indian brave.

  Wynn told me he would send for a French translation of the New Testament for LaMeche.

  “Oh, Wynn, wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was a group of believers here when we return?”

  Wynn smiled at my certain “when” and gave me a hug.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Leaving

  The day the loaded wagons and team of builders pulled laboriously into the camp was one of surprises in more than one way. I never would have guessed that the people would react so strangely. The Indian men strutted about, putting on a show of great bravery in the face of possible danger at the hands of the strange white men. Women fearfully held their ground with lowered eyes and bated breath—you could see them wishing to be able to take to the woods for protection. In fact, a few of them did just that. Many of the little children ran and hid themselves, wild with fright at the sight of all the strange-looking newcomers.

  The chief, too, forced a brave front and stalked out to meet the men, but it was clear he feared placing his life in danger by doing so.

  Wynn and LaMeche took charge and told the crew where to leave the wagons and tether the tired horses. Then Wynn supervised the setting up of the canvas tents and welcomed the trail-weary men to our fire for coffee to wash the dust from their parched throats.

  There were nine of them in the party. All but three would be staying. The Mountie who was to take our place looked very young to me, and I wondered if it was his first posting and if he would be able to handle things if a crisis were to develop.

  It is none of my business, I reminded myself. The Force must know their own men, and certainly all of them had to start someplace.

  And then lovely young Kinook walked by our fire, her tall back straight, her dark hair swinging free, her head supporting a container of fresh water. And I saw the Mountie look after her, his eyes full of wonder as he nearly forgot to swallow the hot coffee in his mouth. I smiled to myself, realizing just how young he really was.

  I greeted the supply wagons with mixed emotions. I knew it was best for the settlement that work begin as quickly as possible on the building of the post and the cabins. I knew there was much to be done before the coming of the winter snows. I knew also that LaMeche was anxious to have a home so he might take Silver Star to be his wife. But in spite of all those things, I also realized that in just a few days’ time I would be asked to leave with those same departing wagons, and I dreaded that thought—even if our circumstances here were primitive.

  The men spent the evening hours in counsel with Chief Crow Calls Loud. He had to be consulted about his wishes for the site of the new settlement. He also, out of respect for his position, was informed about the new trading post, introduced to the young Mountie who would represent the law, and informed that Wynn and I would be leaving.

  Wynn was surprised at the chief’s reaction to that news. He expressed first surprise and then displeasure, asking if it was possible to revoke the decision.

  “The home for Golden-Haired One can be built first,” he insisted. “The chief and the people wish her to stay.”

  “It seems that you made quite an impression on our chief,” Wynn told me with a grin. “He doesn’t want to lose you.”

  I flushed slightly, very surprised at the turn of events. Had the villagers really been so fearful of the evil connected with the site of the impinging witch doctor that the chief was seeing in my departure a possibility that the powers could be reestablished? It was all very strange.

  Silver Star stayed close to me the next day. I was glad to have her nearby. But we had very little time to talk in private.

  When we went to the lake to wash the evening dishes for the last time, we were finally alone.

  “I want to tell you how much—how full of joy I am to know Kinook and Kinnea will be in your home,” I said to Silver Star as I swished sand around in a pot to scour the sides.

  Silver Star kept her eyes lowered.

  “They are like sisters to me,” she said softly.

  “And to me,” I said, a tear rolling down each of my cheeks.

  “I will miss you,” I continued. “I am sorry we cannot go to your wedding.”

  She nodded silently.

  “I hope much joy will share your path,” I continued.

  She looked at me then. “I will make him happy if it is in my power to do so; in that I will find joy.”

  Yes, I thought, that is the secret. Silver Star’s love caused her to think only of the way that she could bring happiness to the man she loved. She asked nothing except that she be successful at that. Then she too would find her happiness.

  Silver Star pushed aside the pot on which she was working. She looked at me and there was no shyness in her now. She regarded me evenly, her eyes not lowering as they met mine. “You will be back when summer comes again?” she asked me.

  “That is what I want,” I answered honestly.

  “I, too, have much hope,” she said in her soft, flowing voice. “Louis told me about his prayer, and I ask him to tell me more about it. I want to give honor to Louis’ Great Spirit.”

  “Oh, Silver Star,” was all I could manage right then. I wanted to hug her, but since that was not the Indian way, I squeezed her arm instead. “Someday He be your Great Spirit too. I pray for you every day,” I promised her.

  “I see you pray after time of fire, like talk to a real person,” Silver Star told me with wonder in her voice.

  Then she said, “I wish to plant your garden. Louis has promised to help. I know not the way of the seed, but he has planted before. You will need your garden when you return.”

  I was deeply touched. I reached out to take Silver Star’s hand. She returned my brief squeeze ever so gently.

  “That would please me,” I said. “I will bring you seeds.”

  Such a small thing—yet it brought me so much joy. When I returned—if I returned, I reminded myself—I would be coming not to a village where hostility and isolation awaited me; I would be coming back to dear friends—friends who thought of me while I was gone. Friends who welcomed me back. Friends who cared for my garden. Friends who would be ready to be introduced to the God I knew and loved. I swallowed away the tears in the back of my throat and smiled at Silver Star.

  It was a sad parting the next morning at sunup. I wanted to take Silver Star and her dear babies in my arms and hold them before I bid them goodbye, but that was not the way of this people. I looked tenderly at beautiful Kinook and longed to hold her, too. Then I turned to her younger sister, Kinnea. She would be just as beautiful as her pretty sister one day soon.

  I said my goodbyes in the proper way, all the while aching inside. Would it really help the pain to be able to embrace them? I supposed if I could put my arms around them, I would also cry. But even crying might bring some relief.

  Just as we were ready to step up into the wagon, LaMeche came. He held out his hand to Wynn and shook it firmly. Then he extended his hand to me. I took it, saying nothing but feeling so much. This hostile man whom I once feared had turned out to be my friend, my burden-sharer-and now a fellow believer!

  He must have read my thoughts—or else shared them, for without a word, he stepped closer to me and gave me a generous, brotherly embrace. My breath caught in my throat and just as I expected, tears began to flow.

  I was busy wiping them away when a voice from behind made me turn around. It was the chief, dressed in beaded buckskins and flowing feathers, his entourage trailing behind him. All three wives, his children, his councilors stood in their respective positions.

  He approached slowly, his arms extended toward me. In his hands he held a beautiful silver fox fur.

  “The chief gives gift to Golden-Haired One as token that village is her home, and we will wait for her return when meadows again bring forth their blossoms,” he said.

  I was deeply touched. In my confusion, I almost forgot to lower my gaze. Just i
n time I caught myself and dipped my head respectfully; then I stepped forward and without looking up, extended my hands.

  “Great chief and his people honor me,” I said in an unsteady voice. “I, too, will watch for time of meadow flowers and my return to village of my people.”

  Then I stepped back and Wynn helped me to climb aboard the lumbering wagon where our few belongings were piled in behind us.

  The driver shouted a command to the horses, and the slow wheels started to grind forward. We were on our way.

  I dared not look back. Even if it had not been a native custom to never look back when one took to the trail, I could not have done so. The tears were freely falling down my cheeks. I did not want to see the strange little campsite beside the lake. I did not want to look at those who stood there, those villagers who were now my friends—including one who was now part of our spiritual family and another who was very close to God’s kingdom. I did not want to see the little area off to the side on the small island where my garden, now almost bare, had provided many meals for our fellow survivors. Nor did I want to see the charred remains of what once had been the village.

  I forced myself to look ahead, to gaze at the winding trail, the rutted roadway that would lead us over the next hill, and many, many, more hills before we reached the small settlement of Athabasca Landing.

  What awaits us there? I wondered. Surely it could not be better than what we now left behind.

  Then I brought my thoughts under control. Did not the same God still have His hand upon me for good? In my sorrow over having to leave friends, had I forgotten that He was still traveling with me? I wiped the tears and blew my nose. Surely, if He had something better than all of this for me, it must be good indeed.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Athabasca Landing

  As was my custom, I walked and rode interchangeably, partly for my own comfort and partly so I would be company for Kip.