Free [Canadian West 01] - When Calls the Heart by Janette Oke Page B

folded
neatly at the end.

    Realizing I was still carrying my bags, I returned to the
first room and tumbled them into one of the overstuffed
chairs. In somewhat of a trance. I crossed to the stove and
checked to see if it needed more wood. I had never taken care
of a stove before and hadn't the slightest notion how to go
about handling it, but it seemed fairly obvious as to where the
wood should go.
    I looked around me. There were some things set out on the
table and I crossed over to them. A note caught my eye, and I
stopped to read it.
    Dear Miss
    Thot that you'd be tired and hungry after yer trip so
have left some things. We will call on you tomarra to
see what you be needing. We hope you like it here. We
are plenty glad to have you come.
    Martha Laverlv
    On the table sat containers of tea, sugar, coffee and salt, as
well as cheese, fresh bread and pound cake. I crossed to the
cupboard and opened the doors. A collection of mismatched
dishes and pots greeted me. I lifted out a brown teapot with a
chipped lid, a blue cup with a rose on the side, placed it on a
pale yellow saucer, and set about brewing myself a cup of tea.
    While the tea steeped, I opened the other cupboard door
and found staple items in small containers. Never having
spent much time in a kitchen, I was thankful to see that they
were carefully labeled.
    On the cupboard sat a pan filled with water and in the
water stood three jars. One contained cream, another milk.
and a third, butter. So this is how one keeps things sweet
when there is no icebox. I poked a finger into the water and
was surprised at how cool it felt.
    The chest standing near the door held a pail of water with a
small dipper, a basin, and a tin container with a bar of soap. I
poured a little of the water into the basin and washed my
hands. Realizing that I had no towel on which to dry them until my trunks arrived, I went outside and shook the water
from my hands and then walked back and forth, rubbing them
lightly together until all the water had evaporated.

    My tea was ready when I returned. I sliced a piece of the
fresh bread and spread on the butter, then cut myself a generous portion of cheese. Crossing to the stuffed chair that wasn't
holding my belongings, I sat down with my repast. How good
the hot tea and the fresh bread tasted! I couldn't remember
ever having a more enjoyable meal.
    My mind was beginning to clear of its fog, and I studied my
new quarters more critically. The windows had white, rather
stiff-looking curtains. The table was covered with a white
cloth of the same material, but it was decorated with crossstitching. The walls were bare except for a calendar. The rugs
on the floor were small, bright rounds against the plainness of
the bare wood. The furniture was definitely all secondhand.
As I looked at it, I wondered about those folks who had given it
up in order that the new teacherage might be furnished. Had
it been a sacrifice for them? I set down my empty cup and
again went to the bedroom.
    The curtains that hung there were of the same coarse material. Two more quilts were neatly folded and stacked on a
wall shelf. They were all homemade, obviously pieced together
from the better parts of worn-out garments. Skillfully and artistically done, they were very attractive to look at. I admired
the handiwork and appreciated the time which had gone into
them. Three rugs were scattered on the floor, one in front of
the bed, one in front of the dresser, and the third at the door. A
mirror hung on the wall, a crack running jaggedly across one
bottom corner.
    So I won't be boarding, I again told myself. I'll be lining
completely on m1v own, in this little pioneer log house.
    I returned to the lumpy chair and poured a fresh cup of
tea. I looked around at my small, secondhand nest, feeling
deep respect for the people who had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to bring me here. The sense of near-panic left
me and a warm kinship