Canadian West Collection by Janette Oke

Author:Janette Oke [Oke, Janette]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC/Historical, FIC042030, FIC042000, FIC026000
ISBN: 9781441229274
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2017-08-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty-One

Spring Again

Never had the trees looked so green or the breeze sung so softly. With spring, the birds returned, and I held Samuel up to the window so he could see their bright feathers and hear their twittery songs.

He was crawling now and pulling himself up to stand on two rather shaky legs. He no longer fit his cradle, so Wynn again went to the packing crates for more lumber to make a bigger bed. It hardly fit in the small room, and we were tempted to move the cot out. Instead, we squeezed things in as best as we could—there was very little room for walking around.

The men came back with their winter furs, most of them having had a good year. The pelts were plentiful, thick, and brought good prices. I shut my eyes against the vision of the small helpless animals caught in the cruel traps and thought instead of the better food and clothing that the winter’s catch would bring to the families in the village.

I watched, without really admitting it to myself, for Joe Henry Running Deer. I thought he might come to see his son, but he did not. I did not even see him in the village. Wynn thought of it, too, I guess, for he remarked one night that it appeared Joe had returned to the big village and that the cabin was now going to be used by another young man and his new bride. It was an unwritten law in the village that when a cabin was not occupied, it could be used by someone else who needed it.

I took Samuel out more and more as the weather warmed. He loved the out-of-doors. We took long walks with him riding in his special carrier on my back. We went to the river, down forest paths, to the village—all over our home area. And as we went I talked to Samuel, in English and in his own language. Wynn and I both encouraged him to try new words in each tongue.

In the evenings I read to him or showed him picture books. I sang him little songs. First I sang to him the songs my mother had sung to me when I was a child, and then I had Nimmie teach me the songs she sang to her little ones so Samuel would know them, too.

We visited Nimmie and her children often. Samuel loved other children. He would smile with delight whenever he saw Nimmie’s boys. They loved him, too, and they had a wonderful time sharing toys on the floor while Nimmie and I sipped our tea and watched them with eyes of love and pride.

We sent word out to our family and friends, telling them of our son. I suppose I did boast a bit, but probably no more than most new mothers. Back with our infrequent mail came parcels and well-wishes. Now Samuel not only had handmade toys but commercial ones as well.

When it came time for the spring planting, I set Samuel on a fur rug while I worked in my garden.

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