CAN West 04 - When Hope Springs New (8 page)
BOOK: CAN West 04 - When Hope Springs New
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“I’ve been thinking,” Wynn went on, “maybe I should move the sled dogs out here. It would save me paying rent for that little space from LaMeche and would give them so much more room. Right now I have to have their tethers so short they hardly have room to move around. I could stake them all around your garden. There’s plenty of room and it would keep the animals from raiding.”
It sounded like a good idea to me. I wasn’t opposed at all to sharing my island with Wynn’s dogs.
“Don’t forget to leave me lots of clearance for my path,” I warned him. “I don’t trust some of your dogs.”
Wynn laughed, then went on. “There’s only one problem.”
“What?”
“Kip.”
“Kip? How is he a problem?” I puzzled.
“You couldn’t let him run free when you come to the garden. He’d get himself into a fight every time.”
I knew Wynn was right.
“I’ll just have to keep him leashed, too, when we are here,” I said. “He can get his exercise elsewhere.”
I patted the soil over the last seeds and stood up. Our garden was done. Now I just had to wait and watch. Mother Nature, God’s “force,” would do the rest.
ELEVEN
Introductions
With the warm days of spring, the mosquitoes came in droves and the blackflies too began to hatch and torment us. I draped cloth down the back of my neck whenever I went to the stream for water, to work in my garden or to exercise Kip. Even so I was bitten unmercifully every time I left the small cabin.
Those little creatures weren’t enough to keep me in, however. I was out as much as I could dream up reasons to be. I had been confined in the few feet of cabin space long enough over the dreary winter.
I even found reasons to go to the store. Now that I knew something about the trader, I tried to be more patient and understanding. I will admit it was difficult. He was still sour and unfriendly. He snapped when spoken to, and blew his cigarette smoke in my face whenever I came near his counter to settle my account. I tried not to let it bother me, but sometimes it was hard to keep my smile in place.
I still spoke to the Indian women each time I had contact with them. I don’t know if it was just wishful thinking, but I was beginning to feel that they didn’t turn from me quite as quickly as they had at first. Perhaps they were getting used to my imposing myself upon them.
The little children could not be accused of being friendly toward me, but they didn’t scatter quite as quickly either. Sometimes they didn’t even run, just stared for a moment and then returned to their play.
I could hardly call it a triumph, but with the sun overhead and my garden sending up little spikes of promise, I couldn’t help but feel a happiness in my heart.
Wynn had moved his dogs to the island and whenever I went to weed, I also carried food scraps I had gathered to feed his dogs. They were beginning to welcome me with little yips of anticipation, and I enjoyed being wanted—even by sled dogs. I found that some of them enjoyed petting, and I ventured close enough to do that. They really weren’t such a bad lot after all, if you took them one by one.
My favorite was Flash, the lead dog, a full-blooded brother of Kip. Though Flash was not as pretty as Kip, he certainly was an impressive dog. His shoulders were thickset, his legs muscled and strong, his face intelligent, and his eyes deep blue and trusting. I petted Flash more than any of the others and we soon became close friends.
I wished there were a way to get the two brother dogs together. Surely they would realize they were kin and lay aside all challenges for supremacy, but when I mentioned the idea to Wynn, he laughed.
“Don’t you believe it for a minute, Elizabeth,” he warned me. “Kip and Flash are both determined to be top dog. Neither of them would give an inch. You’d have the worst fight on your hands you’ve ever seen.”
Well, I had seen enough dog fights since coming to the North that I certainly didn’t want to see a “worse” one, so I kept Kip well away from his brother.
I felt a bit guilty about making friends with Wynn’s dogs. I wasn’t sure how a sled dog was to be treated. I knew that many of the trappers handled theirs with a heavy hand and no mercy or love whatever. I knew Wynn did not treat his dogs in that manner, but just how
did
he handle his dogs? Could I spoil them with my petting and pampering? I decided I had better check with Wynn.
did
he handle his dogs? Could I spoil them with my petting and pampering? I decided I had better check with Wynn.
One night at our evening meal, I raised the subject.
“When I go out to the garden, I take food scraps to your dogs.”
I watched for Wynn’s reaction. No frown appeared.
I went on. “They really aren’t so bad.”
“ ’Course not,” said Wynn. “I don’t know why you were afraid of them in the first place.”
“Well, I didn’t know them really. I still don’t know all of their names.”
I wanted to ask Wynn if I would spoil them by petting them, but Wynn stood to his feet.
“How about if I take you out and introduce you?” said Wynn. “If you leave the dishes, we still have time before dark.”
Wynn knew I seldom left unwashed dishes, but this time I agreed.
“Okay,” I nodded. “You’ve got yourself a date. I’ve been aching to show you how quickly the garden is growing. You just wouldn’t believe it! Medicine man or no, I still think we picked the best spot in the whole region for our garden.”
Wynn chuckled and picked up his plate and cup and carried it to the dishpan. I followed behind him and in next to no time our table was cleared, and I was ready to go.
I had thought that the dogs welcomed me when I came to the island, and so they did; but you should have heard the din when they saw Wynn! Each dog clamored for his attention, and he made the rounds, ruffling fluffy fur and petting bodies that wiggled from head to tail as they squirmed in their eagerness to get some of the loving. I stood amazed. I would never worry about spoiling Wynn’s sled dogs again.
“This is Flash,” Wynn said, burying his face against the thick fur of the dog’s coat as he murmured strange sounds that only he and the dog understood.
I knew Flash.
“He’s the best lead dog in the whole north country,” Wynn went on. “I’d put him up against any other—any day. He sleeps right beside me when we are on the trail. I never tether him. Nothing would get near me without Flash warning me.”
I didn’t know that before. I was comforted to know that Wynn had Flash on “guard duty.” I felt a new appreciation for the team leader. I reached down and patted his massive head.
We moved on.
“This is Peewee,” said Wynn, “the only dog in the bunch that Flash has not whipped into submission. He hasn’t needed to. Peewee has never questioned his authority. Peewee is small, but all heart and willpower. He’d never give up while he had an ounce of energy left.”
Wynn knelt down and took the dog’s head in his hands. The dog whined, deep devotion written all over him.
“Peewee would do anything I asked of him,” said Wynn, “or die trying. Great little dog, aren’t you, Peewee?”
I felt a lump in my throat as I looked at the small animal. In my mind’s eye I had visions of this little fellow valiantly struggling to pull his share of the load. He was smaller than the usual sled dog, but if Wynn could boast of him in this manner, then I knew he was worthy to be harnessed next to the great Flash.
“This is Tip. How are you, Tippy?” Wynn ruffled the dog’s fur and played with her ears. “She loves to be praised, hates to be scolded. Temperamental, just like any woman—make that
many
women.” Wynn stopped long enough to laugh at his own remark and stroke Tip’s dark brown fur.
many
women.” Wynn stopped long enough to laugh at his own remark and stroke Tip’s dark brown fur.
“Here’s Keenoo. He’s a half-brother of Flash. Notice some of the same markings. He’s the heaviest dog of the team. I count on him when I have a heavy load. Boy, can he pull! Might even be able to outpull Flash—though I’ve never tested it. But Flash is the more intelligent of the two. In spite of his size, Keenoo hates to fight. Uncommon for his breed.”
Wynn stopped to pet the dog, who pushed up against him, thrusting his nose deeply into Wynn’s hand.
“And this is Franco. I wouldn’t get too close to him. He’s the least friendly of the lot. He’ll let me pet him if I don’t overdo it, but he doesn’t take to others very quickly.”
Franco growled deeply within his throat as his eyes held my face, then he turned to Wynn and his tail waved, ever so slightly.
Wynn patted and talked to him, just as he had each dog, and then we moved on again.
“Why do you keep him?” I asked, concerned about the difference in that last dog’s temperament.
“He’s a good worker,” said Wynn, “and he’s never been a problem. He’s the quickest to pick a fight and Flash has to straighten him out every so often, but he settles down and does his job when he has to.”
I turned to get another look at Franco, and found his sharp eyes still upon me. It was a bit unnerving. I wondered if he was jealous of my being with Wynn.
“He sure seems to have a chip on his shoulder,” I commented.
“That’s a good way to describe him,” Wynn laughed. “He certainly does seem to have a chip on his shoulder.”
There were two more dogs to go. They whined and pulled at their tethers, anxious for Wynn to get to them.
“This is Morley. He’s sort of ordinary, I guess, but he works well and he tries hard, don’t you, Morley? He has unusually sensitive ears. Morley is usually the first one to alert me if something or someone is in the area. Sometimes he is too quick. He growls over a mouse visiting a grass clump fifty feet away.”
I knew Wynn was purposely exaggerating, but we both laughed.
“Hard to get your sleep sometimes, with Morley near you on the trail,” went on Wynn, “but once or twice I’ve been thankful for his keen sense of hearing.”
Wynn stopped to pamper Morley.
“And last of all, this is Rewa, the other female. I’m thinking of using her to raise me some pups. With her as a mother and Flash to father them, I think I could get some top-notch sled dogs. Look at her intelligent eyes and her broad head. See the thick shoulders and deep chest. She has a great deal of stamina on the trail—something very important for a sled dog. I hate to lose her from the team, but I think she would be of even more value to me raising puppies.”
Wynn leaned down to run a hand over Revva’s silky side. She pushed up against him, begging for more attention. I leaned to pet her, too. She licked at my hand, letting me know she welcomed my caresses.
“So now you know them all,” Wynn said, still stroking Rewa as he spoke. “The only one you shouldn’t get too close to is Franco. Leave him alone—at least for the present.”
I nodded. I certainly would not be pushing Franco, yet deep inside me was a desire to win the friendship even of that unfriendly dog. I would take it slow and easy, but I knew I would try.
“I’ve already been petting Flash and Peewee and Revva,” I admitted, rather hesitantly.
“Good,” said Wynn. “They like lots of love and attention.”
I let out my breath. So I hadn’t done anything wrong in babying his dogs. Dogs, like people, needed lots of assurance that they were loved and appreciated. Wynn knew that. He treated them that way as well.
I leaned over to give Rewa one last pat. The sun had left us. The twilight seeped in around us, cloaking us in a comfortable garment of softness. The evening sounds began to fill the air. Off in the forest a bull moose called out a challenge, or a love call, I did not know which. A screech owl sounded an alarm to our right. In the distance a wolf lifted its nose skyward and poured out his melancholy into a long, penetrating, lonely call. Revva shivered beneath my hand.
“She’s not afraid of a wolf, is she?” I asked Wynn. I knew that I shivered even yet whenever I heard one of them.
“No,” said Wynn. “I don’t think it’s fear. She is too closely related to that wolf out there to be afraid of him. Perhaps it’s just the ‘wild’ in her that is responding.”
I stroked the dog. She whimpered but did not move away from my hand.
“Are you lonesome, girl?” I asked her quietly. “Would you like to be free to roam with your own kind? Is that a lover you hear calling you out there?”
Rewa licked my hand and wagged her tail, pushing her body up against me.
“Just checking,” I said. “But I’m glad to know you’d rather stay with us.”
I gave her one final pat and rose to go with Wynn.
TWELVE
Summer
We were already enjoying some early vegetables from our garden. Wynn had been right. Due to the dog team being tethered in the area, we were not bothered by raiding rabbits or rodents. The vegetables were free to grow in the hot, summer sun, unhampered by marauders.
When the summer became unusually hot and dry, even the pesky mosquitoes thinned out some. It was just too dry for them to do much hatching.
About three times a week I went to the garden with my water pail and spent most of the morning watering my plants. It was hard but rewarding work. Between the water that I poured on them, the warmth of the sun, and my words of encouragement, they prospered.
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