by Janette Oke
Kendra’s eyes jerked back to Natook, who still fought for a foothold on the slippery ice that seemed to keep crumbling beneath him. He was losing ground quickly. Kendra looked on in horror, frozen to the spot, her thoughts whirling too quickly to make much sense. How much, and how many, were they to lose?
It was her grandfather who brought her back to her senses.
“Cut the harnesses,” he called. “Cut the harnesses.”
Kendra looked up to find George at the head of his team, clutching the harness of the lead dog and trying hard to keep the team from slipping farther into the gaping hole.
Kendra dropped to her stomach and inched her way across the ice. As she moved she reached down for the knife in her moccasin. Natook was still clawing and scratching at the edge of the breaking ice, about to slip into the river. Kendra was sure she would not make it in time.
She reached for the frightened dog and gave him a boost with all the strength she could muster. At the same moment her knife sliced through the strap that held him prisoner to the sleigh. She heaved again and the dog increased his scrambling, his claws digging at the icy surface. Kendra heard the ice groan beneath her. For one awful moment she was sure it would break again and she and the dogs would slip into the chilly water. She held her breath as she hoisted at the sled dog again.
Natook managed to get his feet back under himself as Kendra slashed at the harness that tied the other dogs to the weight of the sled.
At last the final strap was severed. Kendra lay panting. She heard the sound of the dogs as they scraped and scurried their way to the shore, fright still echoing in their whines.
“Get out of there,” George called sharply and Kendra opened her eyes and forced herself to move, inching backward slowly in her prostrate position. She did not dare to try to stand. She did not even dare to draw herself up on her knees.
Where was her team? Had they gone down?
When Kendra thought she had slid far enough away from the danger zone, she rolled over slowly and looked around her. Oscar had the team in check. He stood before them, his eyes alert, ears back. The rest of the team lay silently where she had left them. The ice around them was still intact, but Kendra did not trust it for a minute longer.
She continued to slide her way back from the widening hole until she could safely rise to her feet. Then she called to Oscar and ordered him to bring the team off the ice to the safety of the riverbank.
Once they were all ashore, Kendra sank to the snow-packed ground. She was breathing hard and trembling from head to foot.
“We could have lost them all,” said George, his voice edged with strain.
Kendra thought of Shanoo. The dog had no chance against the strong current. She had been swept under the river ice and carried downstream. Kendra closed her eyes tightly. It was too awful to even think about. But, like her grandfather had said, they could have lost them all.
Then Kendra thought of the load of winter furs.
“Is there any chance at all—?” she began, but George was already shaking his head.
“We’d never get it out,” he answered her.
Kendra buried her head against her raised knees. It was so unfair. So unfair. They had needed every pelt. They’d already had a bad winter. What would they ever do now?
She felt a hand on her head. “We’ll make it,” her grandfather soothed. But his voice was tight with worry. She wondered if he really believed his own words.
“We’ll make it,” he said again. His words held more confidence now, as though speaking them gave him some assurance. Kendra lifted her head and looked at the teams lying about them on the snow. At least they still had their dogs. All but poor Shanoo. And she still had
Oscar. The ice had not broken under her weight while she fought at the edge of the hole to rescue the team. And, most important, her grandfather had not gone down. For that she was thankful. Perhaps they had a good deal to be thankful for after all.
Chapter Eighteen
Going Out
The summer was much kinder to them than the winter had been. Kendra planted a garden and tended it carefully. The vegetables kept their table supplied and produced additional food for canning and for their root cellar. Kendra spent day after day in the woods finding edible roots and berries. That, with the meat brought in from the hunt, kept them going over the summer and far into the fall. They got to the place where the flour and coffee ran out, but they managed to have food for their table.
Kendra did not even suggest that they pick up some supplies on credit as many of the other families in the area commonly did. She already knew her grandfather’s feeling concerning spending money that one did not have. George believed in paying at the time of purchase and preferred to make do with less rather than run up a bill at the post.
It was almost Christmas when they took their first pelts of the season to the trading center and bought supplies they needed to get them through the rest of the winter. They both breathed a bit easier with the cabin’s shelves stocked once again. It had been tough—but they had made it.
Kendra made a batch of fresh biscuits to go with their usual meat and vegetable supper, and they ate them all at one sitting. It had been so long since they had enjoyed the taste of any kind of bread.
The catch that year was a good one. Kendra began to hope she would be able to go out for school, after all. George brought the matter up every now and then to let the girl know he had not forgotten her plans.
“When do you want to go?” he asked one day as they worked together on next winter’s supply of wood.
“I’ve been told classes start mid-September,” replied Kendra. She did not have to ask her grandfather to what he was referring.
“And how much time will you need to be ready for classes?” he pressed further.
Kendra placed the wood length on the pile and straightened. She reached her hand up to brush wisps of blond hair back from her moist brow. “I don’t know,” she responded. “It’s rather scary. I haven’t been out for years.”
George leaned his saw against a young sapling and dropped to the grass. It was hard work felling trees and sawing them into stove lengths. They could both use a rest. He patted the grassy ground beside him and Kendra took the few short steps to lower herself at his side.
“I’ve written to Maggie. She says you can stay with her for as long as you like,” George said.
Kendra nodded. She was glad that Maggie Miller was in the city. She let her eyes drop to her worn and simple clothing. She certainly wouldn’t be wearing these to the classroom. What would she wear? None of her clothes were suitable. Her wardrobe consisted of a strange combination of deerskin and simple cloth garments. Most of the materials for her skirts and blouses had been woven by the local Indians or purchased as yard goods at the trading post. In fact, she dressed just as the Indians in the settlement did. Practical clothing, made to endure and keep one warm.
Her eyes traveled farther—to the tips of her moccasined feet. Another change and one that she did not look forward to. She remembered when she had gone out for school before and how uncomfortable the stiff, awkward shoes felt. She would have to adjust to the shoes this time.
“I don’t know,” she said again as she stretched the ache from between her shoulders. She had some nagging doubts. Perhaps she shouldn’t go out, after all. Her grandfather did need her to help with the work. It took both of them working hard just to survive.
“Would you rather I stayed here?” she asked him, her eyes still on her feet.
“Oh no,” he assured her quickly. “I think you should go to school.”
She didn’t know if his words were encouraging or disappointing. Did she really want to go? Could she make it?
He seemed to sense her mood. “Of course, there will be some adjustments—at first,” he commented. “But you’re bright and quick— remember, I was your first teacher.” They smiled at each other at those memories. “You’ll adjust quickly,” he went on. “And once you do—I t
hink you’ll really like it.”
“You think so?”
“I’m sure you will. Just think of all of the new stuff you can learn.”
Kendra longed to learn, but she still felt agitated.
“And you’ll be all right?”
“Truth is,” he said slowly, “I don’t know how in the world I’m ever going to get along without you. Don’t know how I ever got along without you before you came. I’m going to miss you—so much.” He turned again to her. “But I want you to go—honest. I want you to learn about that big world out there. You won’t want to live back here forever. It isn’t fair. You need to know people. Other people. People your own age. You’ve never even had a playmate. Never even had a chance to play. I feel bad about it, Kendra. I—”
But she interrupted him. “There’s no reason to feel bad. I couldn’t have chosen a better way to live. Honest. I can’t imagine living a life where you just—just sit around all day—being bored—and useless. I love it here. And I’ll be back. I promise you that. I’ll be back.”
She leaned over and kissed his whiskered cheek.
They left in the middle of August. Kendra fretted and stewed as she checked the woodpile, the storage shed, the supply shelves. Would her grandfather really be able to handle things all alone? She would be gone for the whole winter. Maybe two or three winters before she returned to the cabin. Would he really be able to manage?
The trip out meant days of weary travel while Kendra silently wondered over and over if she was doing the right thing. George, silent as well, was sure his granddaughter was doing the right thing—the only thing—but he also knew that it was going to be awfully quiet and lonely when he returned home to the empty cabin.
When they finally reached the city, Maggie greeted them warmly. She had aged since Kendra had seen her last. George noticed it as well and knew that losing Henry had been terribly hard for Maggie.
Still, she was able to smile and chatter and inform them of all the new happenings in the city.
“We’ve got some lovely shops, dear,” she told Kendra. “Whenever you wish to go shopping, I will be most happy to go with you.”
Kendra was glad to hear that. She wasn’t even sure what she should be shopping for. How did the young women who attended university dress? Did Maggie know? Would the sales ladies help her or were they just out to sell as many dollars of merchandise as they could? Kendra trembled every time she thought of her upcoming shopping trip.
George busied himself about Maggie’s small home, fixing this and repairing that while Maggie and Kendra went out on shopping excursions. It wasn’t quite as bad as Kendra had feared. The sales clerks were most helpful, though Kendra did feel that they would gladly have helped her spend every cent she had. She would not let them pressure her, and when she decided that the purchases for her wardrobe were sufficient, she gently but firmly said no to further suggestions.
The sewing of garments was the next step. Maggie was a good seamstress, but because she was afraid she was not up on the latest styles, she took advantage of the help of a neighbor. Between the two of them, they presented Kendra with an adequate and attractive wardrobe.
Kendra spent days trying to adjust to the shoes. There were many times she wished to lean down, slip them from her aching feet, and retrieve her worn moccasins, but she did not allow herself the pleasure. She had to learn to wear them or be the laughingstock of the classroom.
Another adjustment came in changing her hairstyle. Kendra was used to wearing it in two long braids that hung down over her shoulders. If her task was such that she didn’t want the braids dangling in her way, she simply wound them around her head and pinned them securely.
But braids would not do on the university campus, however. Kendra knew that. But she wasn’t quite sure how her hair should be worn. Again the young neighbor came to her rescue. She set about trimming Kendra’s long blond locks.
“You have lovely hair,” she said over and over. “Such a beautiful color—and so shiny.”
Kendra had never given it much thought. It was just—hair. Different from the Indian neighbors, but hair nonetheless. Now she looked at it a bit more closely. It was a nice color. She was pleased about that.
“Now,” the neighbor woman went on to explain, “the younger women are wearing it a bit looser at the front—with soft waves. You have a real advantage there because yours is naturally wavy. You bring it back like this. Give it a twist, then wrap it like so. Then you bring this section over here, fold this back this way, bring this around, tuck this in, and put pins in like this.”
It looked so complicated. Kendra was sure she would never be able to do it. She regretted that she wouldn’t be able to just braid her hair the way she was used to.
George accompanied Kendra when she went to the school to enroll. She did not tell him, but it was the most frightening experience of her life. She wanted to cling to his hand, to plead with him to take her home again, but she did neither.
It was not a large school, but to Kendra the halls felt strange, the many unknown faces slightly threatening.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of. Stop your trembling,” she chided herself over and over. But her heart pounded, her stomach hurt, and her hands shook anyway.
She was quizzed about her knowledge. That made her tremble even more, but the results seemed to satisfy the officials, for soon she found herself being handed the papers that told her when and where she would be expected to show up for her classes. She was in.
She decided to accept the gracious invitation and stay with Maggie. At least she could save herself one additional adjustment—and perhaps a few dollars as well. Besides, Maggie expressed a genuine desire to have her company, and George seemed most anxious that she agree to the arrangement.
George stayed on until she was settled into her new surroundings and schedule. Kendra knew he would need to leave soon to prepare for the winter trapping season. He knew it as well, but he seemed to hate the thought of leaving.
Along with Kendra, Maggie hated to see him go. “I didn’t realize how many little things needed fixing,” she told him. “Henry—Henry wasn’t able to care for such things his last years, and I didn’t know how to go about them. Seems one broken or worn-out thing just leads to another. It is so nice to have everything in good order again.”
“I was happy to do it,” replied George. “Gave me something to do while you ladies were shoppin’ and snippin’.”
Kendra laughed. She knew he would have been terribly bored if Maggie hadn’t found little chores for him around the house.
A full week of Kendra’s classes had passed before George announced that he would be returning to Bent River Crossing. Kendra was adjusting well, though she occasionally had moments of intense nervousness. She still often trembled as she thought of how much “catching up” she had to do in some of the subjects. But she was willing to work hard.
She hadn’t as yet made any new friendships, but she did have a few nodding acquaintances. In one class the teacher had singled her out for introduction to the entire class and asked her to share a bit about life in the wild. Kendra, blushing with embarrassment, had managed to give a brief report. It must have created interest, for after she was done a number of students had questions. She fared far better in giving direct and informative answers to the queries, and when she finally took her seat there was appreciative applause. Kendra felt that the students were friendly and open and that, given a bit of time, she would be able to make friends. She told her grandfather so and he seemed pleased.
“The belle of the classroom,” he beamed. “I knew you would be.”
“Oh, Papa Mac,” said Kendra, hanging her head, her cheeks flushing, “it’s not like that at all.”
“Well, it will be. Just you wait and see. It won’t take those teachers—or the other young people—long to see that you are a very special person.”
Kendra smiled in spite of herself.
And then her glance fell on her hands. She
had soon realized that hers were the only rough and calloused hands among the school’s young women. Embarrassed, she wriggled uncomfortably on Maggie’s sofa and ended up with her hands tucked under her new gray wool skirt.
Chapter Nineteen
Stirrings
“How are your classes going?”
Kendra frowned at Maggie’s question. The classes, for the most part, seemed to be going just fine. Yet for some reason Kendra couldn’t explain, she felt she was not enjoying them as she had anticipated.
“Perhaps it’s just that I miss home and Papa Mac and Oscar so much,” she told herself night after night when she was tempted to cry silently into her pillow. “I will get used to the noise and commotion of the city. It will just take a while.”
But every day added to Kendra’s discontent.
Now as she hesitated, Maggie read in her eyes her secret yearnings.
“You miss home.” Maggie’s simple statement was filled with understanding. “Some of these adjustments are hard and they take time,” Maggie went on. “But it will come. You haven’t had time to make friends yet.”
Kendra wondered if time was the issue. Perhaps she just didn’t fit in. She had been raised so differently. She thought differently, liked different things. Even dressed differently in spite of the fact that she had tried so hard to imitate the other girls.
“I don’t know, Aunt Maggie,” she finally answered with a deep sigh. “I—I just feel that—that something is missing. I don’t quite fit. I’m like—like a hawk trying to swim. I just don’t understand some of the ideas. I—”
