Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies Page 6

  “Excuse me.” She turned to the woman who sat in the seat behind her. “What was that animal?”

  The woman smiled. “It’s a moose.”

  “Thank you,” said Lea. “A moose,” she repeated, writing it down in her notes.

  From time to time, the train rolled into a forlorn station surrounded by a smattering of shacks and a water tower. Lea felt a rush of fear. Was this what life had in store for her? But it got worse. As they arrived in Manitoba, miles and miles of flat land spread before her, no vegetation in sight, just white emptiness.

  What have I gotten myself into? Do I even know this man? Perhaps Mathilde was right.

  The familiar longing for Maman rose inside her, along with a stinging in her eyes. How she would give anything to hear her voice again. She fought a hardness in her throat and wiped her eyes from time to time. Then she remembered Palma’s words—Be strong. I’d come too if I could. I so envy you. Drawing strength from her sister, she sat up and pushed her shoulders back. She’d made a choice, and she had to go through with it.

  A couple of days later, the train pulled into Regina. Lea heaved a sigh of relief when she saw the brick and mortar buildings that lined the streets and the tall church steeples that rose above the town. A domed edifice crowned the city, and telephone poles lined the streets, an assurance of electric lights.

  Her body tingled with excitement and trepidation. It had been so long since she’d last seen Napoleon. What if she discovered she didn’t care for him anymore? Or worse yet, that he didn’t care for her? Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her suitcase and stepped off the train. When she walked into the monumental station, she gazed in awe at the splendour of the marble floors and the dome overhead. Several people milled about, from simple farmers to men in suits and stylish women wearing the latest fashion trend. She scanned the crowd, searching for her Napoleon. Then she saw him…and reeled. This wasn’t how she remembered him! Had she been so blinded by love that she didn’t realize how bowed his legs were? Had the war marred her vision? He didn’t seem near as handsome as he had back home. Her heart pounded. She took slow, uncertain steps toward the man. He flashed her a crooked, leering smile.

  Someone called from behind. “Lea!”

  She wheeled about, wondering who on earth would know her in Regina besides her betrothed.

  It was Napoleon! Her chest rose as she heaved a sigh of relief. She had been mistaken. The other man hadn’t been him at all.

  Lea ran into his arms and they held each other tight until he took her chin in his hands and kissed her deeply.

  “My Lea,” he said, over and over. “I’ve been counting the days, and you’re finally here.”

  “Oh, Napoleon,” she cried. “It was so difficult on the ship. I thought I’d caught the Spanish flu and that I’d never see you again. And I was so seasick the whole way, and…” Tears spilled over her cheeks.

  Napoleon wiped her eyes with his clean, white handkerchief, then placed his nose and forehead against hers. “Shhhh. You’re here now, and I’m going to take care of you.” Releasing her, he took her hand, then hoisted up her suitcase.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To a friend’s house. Then at six o’clock tonight, we’re going to be married at the church.”

  “Tonight?” Lea raised her brows in astonishment.

  “Yes. And then afterward, we’re going for supper and to see a show.”

  “Supper and a show?” Lea smiled, thankful that at last she was back in civilization.

  ***

  The marriage ceremony Napoleon had planned was to be simple, the bishop with two priests as witnesses. Lea took out the navy blue dress with the embroidered flowers she’d packed so carefully for the big day and smoothed out the wrinkles the best she could.

  When she came down the stairs, Napoleon’s face lit up with admiration. “You’re so beautiful!”

  Lea felt her face warm. “Thank you.”

  After helping her with her coat, he took her arm and led her to the carriage that waited outside and gave her a hand up. He turned to his friend and thanked him for his hospitality. The man nodded, standing on the sidewalk as they drove away.

  When the couple arrived at the cathedral, Lea broke into a grateful smile. What a beautiful church Nap had chosen—St. Mary’s—constructed of yellow stone, its one steeple rising above the rooftops.

  Nap helped her down from the carriage and led her inside. Lea marveled at the church’s grey, marble floors and Gothic arches and at the rosetta window that lit up the altar. A carved crucifix hung beneath it.

  They walked up the aisle to where the bishop awaited, flanked by the two priests.

  His smile was kind. “You’ve traveled a long way, Leopoldine.”

  “Yes.” She gave a shy nod.

  “And you’re sure you want to marry Monsieur Joseph Napoleon de Montigny?”

  Again she nodded, remembering how relieved she’d been the man in the station hadn’t been him.

  “And you?” The bishop turned to Napoleon. “You’ve come of your own free will?”

  Napoleon gave a vigorous nod. “More than my own free will.”

  “Then let us proceed.”

  The bishop recited the sacred words of the ceremony, the words that joined Lea for life with the soldier she’d fallen in love with and had waited what seemed an eternity to marry. Lea’s heart was filled with elation. How long she had dreamed of this, and now they would be as one. When the bishop finished the final prayers and they signed the documents necessary, he congratulated them.

  Lea and Napoleon left the church hand in hand to the carriage that awaited them, their smiles ecstatic. When they arrived at a quaint hotel close by, Napoleon led her inside.

  “This is where we’re staying and where we’ll have supper.”

  Lea watched as he checked in at the front desk and handed their luggage to the footman.

  Dinner was exquisite. She marveled at the high ceilings in the dining room and at the beautiful stained glass windows. Napoleon ordered stew while Lea chose the chicken. She was awed at the ornamental paper ruffle attached to the drumstick. But what surprised her most was that her new husband ordered two glasses of red wine and dessert!

  After dinner, they attended the Regina Theatre where they watched A Dog’s Life with Charlie Chaplin and laughed themselves silly. When it was over, they returned to their hotel.

  “You can take a bath if you’d like.” Napoleon set down her suitcase by the tub with a soft thud. “I’ll prepare myself for bed out here.

  “Thank you,” she replied, her voice timid.

  Lea’s heart quickened. She was a married woman now and she had to be perfect for her husband.

  Removing her dress, she hung it on the door, and then ran water into the claw-footed bathtub, careful to pour the special bath powder supplied by the hotel. Then, opening her suitcase, she pulled out the small package at the bottom where the pretty nightgown her mother had given her lay.

  “Thank you, Maman.”

  She stayed in the tub for a long time, enjoying the luxury and the foam until the water cooled. Then she got out and dried herself, slipping into the nightie she’d saved for this special day. She brushed her hair using long strokes, tried several hairdos, deciding in the end to let her hair down. Admiring herself in the mirror, she whispered, “Not bad for a girl who’s just gotten off the train.”

  But when she finally left the bathroom and made her entrance into the bedroom, Napoleon was fast asleep on the bed.

  Lea’s face twisted into a scowl. On our wedding night!

  Giving a small huff, she turned out the electric lamp and lay down beside him, nestling close to him under the blankets. It’d have to wait until tomorrow.

  Napoleon suddenly jumped up. “You thought I was asleep, didn’t you?” He let out a laugh.

  Lea squealed, then threw herself into his arms.

  Chapter Nine

  New Life in the Prairies

  Two days later, Lea
and Nap boarded the train west, waving good-bye to Nap’s friend who’d shown them the sites around Regina. Lea had been impressed by the rotunda in the legislative buildings that had recently been built and was mesmerized by the grand hotel, Chateau Qu’Appelle, still under construction. But after a brief time in the modern city, she was ready to begin her new life in the prairies.

  The train stopped at various villages until they arrived in a town called Ponteix.

  Napoleon stood up and grabbed their bags from the rack. “This is it,” he said, wearing a wide grin. “There is where we’ll live.”

  Lea looked with dismay at the dilapidated buildings with peeling paint near the station. Small children with smudged faces peered through frosted windows. “Which house?” she asked, her tone guarded lest she hurt her new husband’s feelings.

  Napoleon flashed an impish smile. “Not here, silly! We’ll be staying on the Gilberts’ farm, but you’ll like Ponteix. Look, over there through the branches. See that church?”

  “Yes,” said Lea, admiring the brown brick building.

  “It’s called Notre Dame d’Auvergne. It’s fairly new. Most of this town is. As a matter of fact, Ponteix is only eight years old.”

  “Eight years old?”

  “Yes. It was begun by Père Royer, the parish priest. You see, Saskatchewan’s such a new province that the government is busy opening up land and incorporating new towns for homesteaders. There’s even a hospital and a convent here.”

  A relieved sigh escaped Lea despite her desire to hide her misgivings. “But what language do they speak?”

  “French, of course.”

  Thank goodness.

  He took her hand and led her down the stairs of the train, lifting her off the final step to where an older couple waited. Lea hugged herself and trembled. She’d never felt this cold before.

  “Mr. Gilbert,” said Napoleon, speaking in his native French, his arm resting on his bride’s shoulders, “This is Leopoldine, my wife.” He looked as though he’d burst with pride.

  Mr. Gilbert tipped his hat, then squeezed Lea’s hand. “My goodness, what a beautiful woman you’ve married.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mr. Gilbert turned to the woman standing behind him. She was tall and robust, her hair pulled back in a tight bun, and her forehead grooved with consternation. “Oh, and this is Madame Gilbert,” he said as though it were an afterthought.

  “Enchanté.” Lea bent forward to exchange kisses as was the tradition in Belgium, but the woman stood as cold and stiff as a statue, tolerating the peck on each cheek.

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” she replied, her voice icy as she glowered at her husband.

  Mr. Gilbert squirmed under her stare and grabbed the suitcases, clearing his throat. They walked hastily to where a sleigh and two horses waited. Lea admired the black geldings attached to the harness. But as they drew near, Mr. Gilbert surprised her by hurrying past them to a vehicle.

  “You have an automobile?” asked Lea, thrilled at the wealth mere farmers could attain in the new country. Certainly, she and Napoleon would have one too before long.

  “Yes, but it’s difficult to drive in the winter,” said Mr. Gilbert still angling his head away from his wife’s murderous glances. “We nearly had to take the cutter.”

  “The cutter?” Lea entwined her gloved fingers with Nap’s.

  “It’s a sleigh,” Napoleon explained.

  “Why is that?” Lea asked Mr. Gilbert.

  “Because it’s quite an ordeal to get the car to run in winter.”

  “How so?” asked Lea.

  “Well, first we have to boil water to put in the radiator, and then we have to throw a blanket over the hood and run the car until it warms up. Otherwise it’ll keep on stalling. Not to mention that if the snow is too deep, we’ll get stuck, our tires spinning and spinning. More often than not, the only way to travel in winter is by cutter. But I thought since we’re having a cold snap and you’re a Belgian bride that you’d be more comfortable in the automobile.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it,” she said.

  They passed through Ponteix where tidy businesses lined the streets and a single gas station stood on a corner, a promise of prosperity to come. Row upon row of houses gave the place a homey atmosphere. Lea eyed the general store, imagining the things she’d one day buy, but when they passed the cemetery, a feeling of foreboding overtook her. Would they one day be buried there?

  After leaving the town, they forged through miles of snowy roads, surrounded by flat, white fields that stretched to the horizon. The occasional farmhouse caught her eye—a soddy, surrounded by a few extra sheds and a barn. She’d heard of these dwellings where people on the prairie oftentimes lived until a real house could be built, how they piled up layer after layer of sod broken from the earth to form walls, making holes wide and long enough to fit the precious glass windows and doors they’d brought from Regina. Lea shuddered at the thought of her children walking on a cold, dirt floor in the winter.

  Her eyes followed the fences that lined the crude road. “Are these fences surrounding the homesteads?”

  “No,” said Nap. “They build them to stop the snow from drifting and to mark where the road is.”

  “It snows that much here?” she asked.

  “Yes, it does.”

  Lea envisioned being trapped in an automobile during a blizzard. How could one get help? She’d heard that sometimes you couldn’t see more than two feet ahead.

  The vehicle continued to crawl on the crude tracks. Lea spied a home in the distance that blended in with the ghostly landscape. It was dug right into the slope of the hill. Yet a merry spiral of smoke plumed from its chimney.

  When they finally rolled onto the Gilbert homestead, Lea clutched Napoleon’s arm so hard her nails dug in wondering what awaited them. But as they approached the structures, she loosened her grip. A large farmhouse graced the land, flanked by a red barn and a small clutch of cabins nearby. Navigating through the various bumps of the road, they pulled up alongside of the main house.

  Mr. Gilbert stopped the car and opened the trunk, pulling out the suitcases while Madame Gilbert stomped off in the other direction, her arms folded. Ignoring his wife, he tipped his chin toward the largest of the cabins, his breath steaming. “This will be where you’ll stay as long as you work for us.”

  Lea gazed at the small house with the protruding stovepipe. From Belgium, to Dover, to Liverpool, to Halifax, to Regina, and now to our first home here in Ponteix, she thought as she followed Mr. Gilbert to the entrance, resisting the temptation to dance.

  Mr. Gilbert opened the door. The snapping and popping of burning wood greeted them. She searched the room for the fireplace, but instead a black, cast iron stove graced the room. Lea smiled at the sight, glad she wouldn’t be cooking over an open hearth. Her eyes roved about. Pots and pans and a kettle sat neatly on a shelf. The largest of the pots had been placed on the stove, filled with thawing snow. Drinking water? A little farther away stood a table large enough to fit six people. In the middle of the room, an oval rag rug covered much of the wooden floor. Against the opposite wall, a green velvet camelback couch and a matching chair filled the space.

  “I love it!” she exclaimed.

  “I thought you would. But you haven’t seen the bedrooms yet. There are three of them!”

  “Three? That’s as big as our house in Chatlineau!”

  “Yes. One for the girls, one for the boys, and the best one for us.”

  Lea giggled, then melted into his arms. He held her close, his cheek nestled against her forehead.

  When he released his hold, he said, “Now, how about if you unpack. Our bedroom is through that door. I’ll go help Mr. Gilbert empty the radiator of the car so it won’t freeze.”

  They exchanged another kiss, and Napoleon followed Mr. Gilbert, closing the door behind him.

  Lea’s heart filled with joy as she wandered into the bedroom. A double bed was pushed u
p against a wall covered in a pretty quilt decorated with tulips. A low ceiling sloped up from the bed, an obvious addition after the original cabin had been built.

  A lean-to.

  Against the wall stood a dresser large enough to fit all their clothes. On either side of the bed were two matching night tables. A porcelain chamber pot with small rose patterns poked out from under the bed.

  She took their suitcases to the bedroom and hoisted them onto the mattress, then opened the drawers of the dresser. Napoleon’s clothing already filled three of them. She took out his shirts and folded them before replacing them. Then she laid all of her things in the remaining drawers.

  It had grown darker, so she fumbled about near the stove until she found matchbook. Lifting the glass chimney of the coal oil lamp, she struck a match and lit the burner. A soft radiance filled the room.

  With the new light, Lea was able to explore the cabin more thoroughly. A broom and dustpan rested in one corner.

  “This room could use a good sweep,” she muttered to herself as she grabbed the broom and began cleaning the floor. She worked her way from one end of the cabin to the next. When she reached the oval rag rug, she lifted it and discovered a trapdoor.

  “Wonder what this is.” Bending down, she pulled the ring up to reveal hidden stairs.

  Curious, Lea took the lamp from its hook and descended to the basement. When she reached the bottom, she held up the light and explored her surroundings. Against one wall rested a perfectly stacked line of firewood. On the opposite side, she found potatoes, carrots, beets, and onions. A bushel of apples stood close by. Dried corn hung in clumps from the ceiling as did herbs. She took the time to smell each cluster, identifying them as best she could. A large pail of lard stood on the floor with blocks of butter piled on it. She loaded various items in her skirt—an onion, a few potatoes, a couple of carrots—and carried them back up the stairs, careful not to lose her footing. When she got to the top, Napoleon was at the door, smiling.