When Hope Springs New (Canadian West Book #4) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Janette Oke

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108 pages

English

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Leaving behind their dear friends in Beaver Creek, Elizabeth and Wynn take over an even more primitive RCMP outpost in the Canadian Northwest. Elizabeth finds herself totally isolated when the local Indian women are afraid to even communicate with her. The Delaney's thought they had already faced the most crushing disappointment of their lives when they saw little Sammy disappear from view in the arms of his father. Would they be able to survive the challenges ahead? Book 4 of the bestselling Canadian West series.

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	01 février 2005
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781585587230
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0202€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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W HEN H OPE Springs N EW
Books by Janette Oke
Another Homecoming * Tomorrow s Dream * Return to Harmony *
C ANADIAN W EST When Calls the Heart When Breaks the Dawn When Comes the Spring When Hope Springs New Beyond the Gathering Storm When Tomorrow Comes
L OVE C OMES S OFTLY Love Comes Softly Love s Unending Legacy Love s Enduring Promise Love s Unfolding Dream Love s Long Journey Love Takes Wing Love s Abiding Joy Love Finds a Home
A PRAIRIE L EGACY The Tender Years A Quiet Strength A Searching Heart Like Gold Refined
S EASONS OF THE H EART Once Upon a Summer Winter Is Not Forever The Winds of Autumn Spring s Gentle Promise
S ONG OF A CADIA * The Meeting Place The Birthright The Sacred Shore The Distant Beacon The Beloved Land
W OMEN OF THE W EST The Calling of Emily Evans A Bride for Donnigan Julia s Last Hope Heart of the Wilderness Roses for Mama Too Long a Stranger A Woman Named Damaris The Bluebird and the Sparrow They Called Her Mrs. Doc A Gown of Spanish Lace The Measure of a Heart Drums of Change
---- Janette Oke: A Heart for the Prairie Biography of Janette Oke by Laurel Oke Logan
www.janetteoke.com
* with T. Davis Bunn
04B

1986 by Janette Oke
Published by Bethany House Publishers 11400 Hampshire Avenue South Minneapolis, Minnesota 55438 www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise-without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
ISBN 978-1-5855-8723-0
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of
Congress, Washington, D.C.
Cover by Jenny Parker Cover artwork based upon photograph in the book Victorian Edwardian Fashions for Women 1840-1919 by Kristina Harris.
Dedicated with love and respect to my youngest sister, Sharon Violet Fehr, another proof of the old saying, last but not least. I appreciate her faith and her dedication. This comes with love- to her, to her husband Richard, and to Shawna, Eric and Amy.
JANETTE OKE was born in Champion, Alberta, to a Canadian prairie farmer and his wife, and she grew up in a large family full of laughter and love. She is a graduate of Mountain View Bible College in Alberta, where she met her husband, Edward, and they were married in May of 1957. After pastoring churches in Indiana and Canada, the Okes spent some years in Calgary, where Edward served in several positions on college faculties while Janette continued her writing. She has written more than four dozen novels for adults and children, and her book sales total over twenty-two million copies.
The Okes have three sons and one daughter, all married, and are enjoying their dozen grandchildren. Edward and Janette are active in their local church and make their home near Didsbury, Alberta.
Contents
1. Uprooted
2. Smoke Lake
3. A New Home
4. Getting Settled
5. Lonely Days
6. Blueberry Pie
7. Winter
8. Neighbors
9. Spring
10. Planting the Seed
11. Introductions
12. Summer
13. Panic
14. Reversal
15. Aftermath
16. Difficulties
17. Counting the Days
18. The Gift
19. Misunderstanding
20. Relief
21. Reunion
22. Starting Over
23. Adjustments
24. Change
25. Leaving
26. Athabasca Landing
27. Involvement
28. Service
29. Winter
30. Sunday Dinners
31. Answers
ONE
Uprooted
Is it much farther?
I felt like a small child asking again, but I really could not help myself. My whole being seemed to be in a state of agitation as we topped each hill, and the settlement was still not in view.
Wynn smiled understandingly. Not too far, he comforted.
He had been saying that for quite a while now.
How many hills? I asked, hoping to pin him down to an answer that I could understand.
Nowhe didn t just smile, he chuckled. You sound like a kid asking- How many sleeps? he teased me.
Yes, I did sound like a kid. We had been on the trail for what already seemed forever. My common sense reminded me that it really hadn t been that long-four days, to be exact-but it felt like weeks.
Wynn reached out and squeezed my hand. Why don t you ride for a while again? he asked me. You ve walked enough now. You ll tire yourself out. I ll see what I can find out from the guide.
He signaled the driver of the lumbering team to stop and helped me up to a semi-comfortable position on a makeshift seat. We resumed forward motion as he moved on down the line of wagons to seek out the guide of our small, slow-moving expedition.
He wasn t gone long; and then, without even slowing the wagon, he swung himself up beside me.
You ll be happy to know that we should be there in about forty-five minutes, he said. Giving my shoulders a hug, he hopped down and was gone again.
Forty-five minutes! Well, I would manage somehow, but that still seemed like a long time.
During our four days of travel I had acquired aching bones, a sunburned nose, and a multitude of mosquito and blackfly bites. But it wasn t these irritations that had me troubled the most.
I realized that my agitation, that hollow, knotted spot in the center of my stomach, was all due to my fear of the unknown. I had not been nearly as frightened when I had come with Wynn to our first northern outpost. Then I had been a new bride, eager to share the adventures of my Mountie husband.
I was still eager to share the adventures with Wynn, but this move was different. I had learned to know and love the Indian people at Beaver River. I had left behind not only the known but the loved. Now I had to start all over again.
I don t believe I was afraid that I would not be able to make new friends. What worried me was how well I would be able to get along without my old friends. I was going to miss Nimmie so much. Surely there was not another person like her in all of the Northland. I would even miss Evening Star and Mrs. Sam and Little Deer and Anna. I would miss Wawasee and Jim Buck and my other students. I would miss the familiar Indian trappers, the simple homes I had visited so often, the curling woodsmoke, even the snarling dogs. Tears welled up in my eyes and slid down my cheeks again. I must stop this , I chided myself, as I had done so many times already on the trail. I will have myself sick before I even arrive.
I pushed my thoughts back to safer ground, making myself wonder what our new home at Smoke Lake would be like. Well, I would not need to wonder for long. Wynn had said forty-five minutes, and the minutes were ticking by, even though slowly, with each rotation of the squeaky wheels.
Home again , I exulted inwardly, after these days and nights on the trail! I was looking forward to a nice hot bath and a chance to sleep in a real bed. Mosquito netting on the windows and a door to close for some privacy would seem like a luxury after this trip-with its heat, rain, and wind, by turn; with its steep hills, flat marshland, dusty trails, and soggy gumbo. Well, it would not be long now.
I looked at the sky. Perhaps we had had our last rain shower four hills back. The sky above me was perfectly clear. Surely it can t cloud over and drench us again in just forty-five minutes time-probably thirty-five by now. Even as I reasoned with myself, I wasn t completely convinced of our safety against another storm. Some of them had seemed to come upon us with incredible swiftness. I fervently hoped we would arrive at the new settlement in dry clothes. I hardly had anything left fit to wear. I was anxious to get out my washtubs and scrub up the wet and soiled things we had been stashing away in the wagon. They would be ruined if I didn t get at them soon.
The driver stopped to rest the team, and I climbed down from the wagon again. At least when I was walking, my anticipation was being channeled into something. I debated whether I should walk ahead of the team where I felt the risk of being run over at any minute, behind the team, where I would be forced to swallow trail dust, or off to the side where the walking was even more difficult. I decided to follow the team. I would lag far enough behind to let the dust settle a bit.
While I waited for the team to resume, I strolled to the side of the trail and looked around for signs of berries. I hoped there would be some in our area. Many of my canning jars were empty, and I did want to fill them again before another winter.
The area did not look promising.
There s lots of land around here , I assured myself. There could be many good berry patches.
Kip came bounding up. In contrast to me, he thoroughly enjoyed the trip and all the new things there were to investigate. I had hardly seen him all day. He ran this way and that, ahead and behind, only coming back occasionally to check and make sure I was still traveling with the wagons.
I patted his head and was rewarded with generous waves of his curly tail. He licked my hand, then wheeled and was gone again before I even had time to speak to him.
Wynn dropped back, bringing with him a canteen of water.
Need a drink? he asked, and I suddenly realized I was thirsty. I smiled my thanks and lifted the canteen to my lips. The water was tepid, not like the refreshing water from our cabin well. Still, it was wet and it did help my thirst.
We will soon be there, Wynn informed me. I think it would be good to slip the leash on Kip. The village dogs might be running loose.
He s gone again, I answered, alarmed. He was here just a minute ago and then he ran off.
Don t worry, Wynn assured me; he won t be far away.
He was right. At the sound of Wynn s whistle, Kip came bounding through the underbrush at the side of the trail. His coat was dirty and tangled with briers and leaves, his tongue was lolling out the side of his mouth from his ru