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  I stared at Mary. I forgot about the eggs. My heart started to thump. Then I remembered Mrs. Robertson’s hateful words about settlers getting lost in the wilderness.

  I felt excited and scared at the same time.

  It was the hottest day so far. After Pa left, Ma let the fire in the stone fireplace go out. She baked bread all morning in the outdoor oven. The chickens made little spurts of dust when they scratched for grubs. After a while, they settled on the ground like soft red pillows. The yellow dog lay in a patch of shade with his tongue hanging out.

  In the afternoon, Ma plucked the big gray goose that lived in the chicken yard. She pulled a woollen work sock over its head and clamped its squirming body between her knees.

  Mary and Trevor and Max and I sat in the shade under the cherry tree and watched.

  “Do you remember the time Papa brought the duck home?” I said to Max.

  “I don’t remember,” said Max.

  “You must remember. Papa said he would build it a house but Grandmother made him take it away.”

  Max stuck his chin out. “I don’t remember!” He squirmed away from me. He was watching Ma. His face wrinkled with worry. “Do you think the goose hurts?”

  “No,” said Mary. “It doesn’t hurt at all. He’s just a silly old goose for complaining so much.”

  Trevor leaped up. His face was red and his eyes bright. He hung a sack over his head and raced in circles, flapping his arms. “Honk! Honk! Honk! I’m a silly old goose.”

  Mary screamed with laughter. Max clapped his hands. He chased after Trevor.

  “Honk! Honk! Honk!” he yelled joyfully. “I’m a silly old goose too!”

  The yellow dog barked. A scraggly red chicken ran squawking into the long grass, clucking furiously.

  “Goodness,” said Ma, but she was smiling.

  I felt myself smile too. Part of me wanted to run like a goose too. But my feet were stuck to the ground, like molasses in the bottom of a jug.

  Trevor collapsed in a heap on the dusty ground. He lay very still. Mary leaned over him and pulled off the sack. “He’s just pretending, Ma!” she shouted. “He’s laughing!”

  “Do it again!” cried Max, but Trevor shook his head. He was breathing hard and his forehead glistened with sweat. Mary picked up the sack. She draped it over her shoulders. She paraded back and forth. “I am a great lady from England,” she said.

  “There,” said Ma. She let the goose go. Max ran to Ma and threw himself on her lap. They hugged in a cloud of downy feathers. I thought that Ma probably felt like a big pillow.

  I heard Max say, “If Papa comes back, do we have to leave?”

  Everything went still inside me. When Papa comes back, I wanted to shout. When Papa comes back.

  A hard lump filled my throat. I knelt beside Mary and helped her fill the sack with the soft gray feathers.

  Chapter 10 The Storm

  That night, I woke up to a terrible roaring noise. It was the wind, howling outside the cabin walls. Ma was standing beside our bed.

  “Trevor is sick,” she said. Mary sat up beside me. She stared at Ma. Then she quickly climbed out of bed. I followed, fuzzy with sleep.

  Ma had lit the lamps, but the windows were black with the night. She had moved Trevor into the bedroom. Trevor looked small lying in Ma and Pa’s big bed. His hair was mussed and two red spots burned in his cheeks. “Ma!” he cried. “Where are you?”

  “I’m here, lamb.”

  One minute Trevor was shivering, the next, he was tossing and turning and pushing the blankets away.

  “It’s the fever,” said Ma. She made Trevor drink a tonic. She said it was made from wild black cherry bark steeped in whiskey. Trevor made a face when he drank it. It must have tasted terrible.

  Mary and I fetched water in a pail from the barrel outside. The wind screamed like a wild animal. It grabbed at our nighties. The tops of the trees swayed back and forth in a strange dance. A bucket clattered across the yard. I was glad to go back inside the cabin and shut out the storm.

  I dipped a cloth in the cool water and carried it to Ma. She wiped Trevor’s face. His eyes were like dark round stones. His face glistened with sweat. Mary reached out and touched Trevor’s hand. “He’s burning, Ma!” she hissed.

  Crash! A terrible noise shook the cabin. We stared at each other. Then Mary and I ran to the window.

  Mary cried, “The cherry tree! It’s down!”

  I pressed my face against the glass. I could see a great shadowy shape like a black monster stretching across the yard. The branches looked like long arms reaching out to the cabin. Goosebumps prickled the back of my neck.

  Max called for me, his voice thin with fright. I wrapped him in the quilt from his bed and settled him beside the fireplace.

  Trevor began to cry. “I’m hot, Ma!” he gasped between sobs.

  Mary and I took turns carrying the cloth back and forth for Ma. It was cool when I dipped it in the pail and hot and sticky when Ma gave it back to me. After a long time, Trevor stopped crying. He lay like a pale ghost, his eyes shut. Once he called out something, but it was a jumble of mixed-up words. I looked at Mary. Her eyes were wide and frightened.

  Then a loud drumming noise filled my ears. Rain. The wind beat the raindrops against the window, making a rattling noise like pebbles. Suddenly my eyelids felt heavy and my arms and legs like thick cotton. I huddled in a chair beside Max and tried to shut out the pounding rain and the shrieking wind.

  I must have slept for a while because when I woke up, everything was still. Max was asleep, curled up on the floor like one of Mary’s kittens. There was no noise outside and the cabin was filled with a pale light. I went to the window and looked out. A round full moon floated in the black sky.

  I watched it for a minute. Was Papa, somewhere, looking at the moon too? Then I went into the bedroom. Ma was holding Trevor’s hand. Mary stood beside the bed. Her face was streaked with dried tears. Her nightie was crumpled and her hair had fallen out of its braid.

  “We need the doctor,” said Ma. “If only your Pa were here …”

  I stared at Ma. The doctor’s cabin was four miles down the road, the way Papa and Max and I had come. Four miles through the woods.

  After a long time, Mary whispered, “I can’t, Ma. Not by myself.”

  I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. I took a big breath.

  “I’ll go with you,” I said.

  Mary and I slipped into our dresses and stockings. We didn’t talk at all. I was shivering so much it was hard to lace my boots. Then Mary opened the cabin door. The yard was bathed in moonlight. The wet branches of the cherry tree glistened like silver. Big drops of water dripped off the edge of the cabin roof.

  I looked up the road. Where it made a bend, it looked like it was swallowed up by the shadowy forest. I wanted Ma to say, “Don’t go.” But she was singing softly to Trevor.

  “Come on,” said Mary. Her voice shook. There were two red circles on her pale cheeks. We began to run.

  Chapter 11 Wolf!

  Mud splashed on our stockings. The trees made tall skinny shadows across the road. Big round puddles shone in the moonlight. There were pieces of branches everywhere that had blown around in the storm.

  We ran past Pa’s fields. Then the road dipped back into the forest. It was alive with little sounds, cracklings and rustlings and dripping leaves. I was sure it was full of fierce animals.

  We came to an old dead tree that Papa and I had passed. It was still standing, but it had a great split down the middle. I remembered Papa saying that if trees could talk, that tree would have stories to tell. All that seemed such a long time ago now.

  A cramp stabbed at the side of my stomach. “I have to walk,” I told Mary. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead. I thought, Don’t look at the forest. I counted my steps to one hundred.

  I looked sideways at Mary. Tears were slipping down her cheeks. I said in a loud voice, “In England, peppermints grow on trees.”

  Mary’s mouth dropped open. “They do?”

  “Oh, yes. And horses can talk.” I was smiling. Slowly, Mary smiled too.

  “Chickens lay golden eggs,” I said.

  “I know one!” shouted Mary. “Houses are made out of sugar! Oh, I wish I lived in England!”

  We both laughed at that.

  “In England,” I said at last, “I never had a best friend.”

  Mary smiled hard then. She took my hand.

  We began to run again.

  How far had we gone? One mile? Two miles? Nothing on the road looked familiar now. Papa had pointed out the doctor’s cabin when we had passed it. But it had been dark and closed up. What if no one was there now? I felt scared when I thought of Trevor’s still, white face.

  We walked ten steps and ran ten steps, sucking in big gulps of air.

  I said, “My stomach hurts.”

  Mary squeezed my hand harder. “Mine too,” she gasped.

  The mud soaked through our stockings and splattered the hems of our dresses. I thought about Grandmother saying, “The wilderness is no place for a girl.”

  Once Mary said, “Do you think Trevor…?”

  “He’ll be all right,” I said in a much braver voice than I felt.

  Ten steps … and then ten more. I could hear Mary breathing hard beside me.

  Suddenly a dark shape slid out of the trees in front of us.

  It had thick gray fur and a pointed face like a dog.

  “A wolf !” hissed Mary. She grabbed my shoulder. I felt like I was frozen to the ground. The wolf stood in the middle of the road, staring at us with yellow eyes. Then it gave one sharp bark and slipped back into the forest.

  “Run!” shouted Mary. My chest felt hollow and my arms and legs turned to ice. I ran hard, no
t caring about the pain in my stomach. My heart pounded wildly and a roaring noise filled my head.

  After what seemed like ages, we stopped. We sucked in big gulps of air. Was the wolf gone?

  We looked into the dark forest. Mary gave a frightened gasp. The wolf was sliding along in the shadows without making any noise at all. It was following us! I felt dizzy with fear.

  We ran hard, our boots splashing on the ground. We came to a bend in the road, and there at last was the doctor’s cabin. There was a warm yellow light in the window. Just a few more steps. I screamed at myself to hurry, hurry, hurry!

  Mary’s breath was coming out in little choking sobs. My legs felt as wobbly as porridge. I looked back, and I saw the wolf ‘s yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness. Then it turned and melted into the trees.

  Mary banged on the cabin door.

  Chapter 12 Papa

  The doctor’s wife gave us hot, sugary tea and a thick slice of bread and honey to stay us on the ride home. The doctor hitched up his wagon. He talked in a soothing voice to his horse, who pawed the ground uneasily.

  The doctor had to drive slowly because of the puddles and the fallen branches. I huddled close to Mary. She was shivering.

  “I’m so glad you came with me,” she whispered. “The wolf — it’s the first one I ever saw.”

  I looked at Mary, surprised.

  “I was scared to death,” she admitted.

  “Me too,” I said.

  We were quiet for the rest of the ride. By the time we got home, the sky was turning pale blue. I was glad to see that it was morning. I thought the long night would never end.

  The cow Celery was bellowing in the field. She sounded mournful. Mary and I brought her to the barn and took turns milking her.

  Mary was very stern with Celery. “You have to let her know who’s the boss,” she explained.

  I was clumsier than Mary, and Celery kept turning her big head around to stare at me with her sad brown eyes.

  But Mary said, “That’s better than my first try.”

  After a while, Max ran out to the barn, full of news. “The doctor is giving Trevor medicine. He doesn’t want it. Ma is crying.”

  Mary bit her lip. She looked frightened. I told Max to hush. I poured some of the milk into the kittens’ bowl and we watched them drink. Then I showed Max how to make Pirate leap in the air for a wisp of hay. Mary waited quietly. I knew she was thinking about Trevor.

  After a long time, we heard the yellow dog bark and the doctor’s horse whinny. We ran outside. A wagon rumbled around the bend in the road. It was traveling quickly, the wheels splashing through the puddles.

  Mary’s breath came out in a whoosh. “It’s your papa,” she cried.

  I froze for a second. Then Papa stood up, pulling the reins. Beside me, Max shrieked.

  I flew over the ground. Papa leaped off the wagon and swept me into his arms.

  “Me too,” shouted Max, running, and Papa hugged us both.

  I couldn’t stop staring at Papa. He looked so different. His face was brown and he had grown a bushy beard. But when he smiled, his eyes were the same.

  The questions spilled out of Max. “Did you find our land? Did you build a cabin? Why were you so long?”

  Papa laughed. “One thing at a time! Our land is just over a day’s wagon ride from here. I have been busy cutting down trees and building a shanty.” He smiled at me. “The cabin will be built soon.”

  My heart thumped. I wasn’t thinking of the cabin. Papa said our land was not too far away. Mary and I could stay best friends.

  “There is a lake,” said Papa. “We will build our cabin right beside it.”

  “Does the lake have a name?” said Mary. “Ellie likes to give things names.”

  Papa considered. “We must ask the Indians. They have a camp on the opposite shore.”

  Indians! I shivered.

  “I’m not afraid of Indians,” said Mary in a loud voice.

  “I should hope not,” said Papa. He ruf-fled Max’s hair.

  I felt dizzy with happiness. Then the cabin door opened. The doctor stepped into the sunshine. He nodded at Papa.

  Beside me, I heard Mary suck in her breath. I squeezed her hand hard.

  The doctor said, “The lad’s fever has broken.” His face broke into a wide smile. “He is going to be fine.”

  “Ellie! Look at me!” shouted Max.

  Max was standing on the top rail of the fence. His arms stuck out like a bird’s wings. He jumped to the ground. He stood up and dusted off his knees.

  I took a big breath. I climbed to the top of the fence. I tried to straighten my legs, but my knees wobbled like jelly. I grinned at Mary and Max.

  I could see far down the road where Mary and I had run in the night. The road looked different in the sunshine. I wondered where the wolf had gone.

  Then I looked the other way. The road disappeared into the forest. Somewhere down that road was our homestead.

  “Jump!” shouted Max.

  I jumped. Whoosh! The ground rushed up to meet me and I landed with a thump.

  I smiled up at Mary. “Tell Trevor,” I said. Mary nodded. Trevor was sleeping. The doctor had said that he needed a lot of rest. Papa and Max and I would be gone when Trevor woke up.

  Mary’s Pa had come home the night before. He had brought new hair ribbons — red for Mary and yellow for me — and whistles for Max and Trevor. He helped Papa load our trunks in the wagon.

  Max looked sad. Papa said, “Ma has enough to do looking after Trevor without looking after us anymore. It’s time we got started on our own cabin so we’ll be ready for the winter.”

  Mary had a surprise for me, hidden in her apron. Pirate!

  “For me?” I said. “For keeps?”

  “Yes,” said Mary.

  “In England,” I said, “I had a cat. But only for one day.”

  Max hugged Ma hard. “I will miss you!” he cried.

  I hugged Ma next. She felt like a soft pillow. She smelled like flowers and warm bread. Then Max and I climbed up on the wagon seat beside Papa. I cuddled Pirate against my chest. My heart was beating like a bird’s wings with excitement.

  Inside me was a bit of sadness too. I wondered when I would see Mary again.

  “Goodbye, Max. Goodbye, Ellie from England,” said Pa in his rumbling voice.

  “Ellie from Canada,” I said firmly.

  Papa clucked to Billy and George. I waved to Mary.

  Then we set off for our new home.

  BECKY CITRA is a primary school teacher who lives in the small community of Bridge Lake, British Columbia. Her home is a ranch with eight horses, a Springer spaniel named Robin, and a cat named Cookie. She also shares the property with frequent visitors: bears, moose and coyotes. When Becky is not teaching or working on her ranch, she loves to read and write stories for children. She is the author of two other children’s novels, My Homework is in the Mail and School Campout. She is also working on a sequel to Ellie’s New Home.

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  Becky Citra, Ellie's New Home

 

 

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