When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West) by Janette Oke Page A

store with the fall supply train.
    The day seemed to be rather long. There wasn’t much to do except talk. We had few games to play, no music available, and the miserable weather left us no chance to leave the cabin.
    While I prepared an evening snack of cold meat sandwiches and leftover pie, Wynn stretched out on the rug before the fire. By the time I returned to join him, he had fallen asleep. I knew my sleeping husband was tired. His job took so much of his time and energy. After delivering the baby last night, he had been called from our overcooked stew to see a sick child.
    He had lost weight, too. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but he definitely did not weigh as much as he had when we came north. I looked down at my own body. I had lost a few pounds, too, which was reasonable. We were active, walked a lot, and ate few foods that would add pounds to our frames.
    I looked at my hands. They were no longer the soft hands of a pampered woman. Time had changed us—time and the northland.
    I didn’t know whether to waken Wynn or to let him sleep, so I just sat watching him, undecided.
    Suddenly Kip arose and looked toward the door, his head cocked to one side as he listened. Was someone coming?
    “No, God, please,” I pleaded. “Don’t let Wynn be needed again tonight.”
    By the time I heard the footsteps, Kip was already at the door. I could tell by his bark that whoever was coming was not someone he knew. Kip welcomed most of the settlement people with only a wagging of his tail.
    Kip’s barking awakened Wynn and he pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked apologetically at me.
    “Sorry. I must have—” but he got no further.
    There was stamping at our front door and then someone was banging on it.
    Kip’s barking increased, and Wynn rose to his feet and motioned him to go to his corner in silence; Kip obeyed rather reluctantly, I thought.
    Wynn opened the door and a man almost fell into the room. The first thing I noticed was his clothes. He was dressed in the uniform of the Royal North West Mounted Police.
    Then I noticed that he had a big bundle in his arms. He looked out from around it, and his face, red with the cold of the bitter wind, broke into a sort of frozen smile.
    “Sergeant Wynn Delaney?” he asked.
    “Right,” said Wynn and moved to relieve him of his heavy load so he would have a free hand to shake in greeting. But the man laughed softly and moved the parcel away from Wynn’s outstretched hand.
    “Sorry,” he said, “but I have strict orders to hand this over to Elizabeth Delaney and no one else.” He turned to me. “You’re Mrs. Elizabeth Delaney?”
    My mouth must have dropped open in astonishment. “I—I am,” I stammered.
    He handed me the parcel as if he was awfully glad to be rid of it. Then he brushed the snow from his parka, pulled off his mitten and reached out a hand to Wynn.
    “Carl Havens of the Royal North West Mounted Police,” he said evenly.
    I stood with the parcel in my hands, looking wide-eyed at the young officer. How had he gotten to our small cabin in the North? What was he doing here? And where was this strange box from? Wynn was speaking, “Welcome to the North, Carl. Won’t you take off your coat and tell us what this is all about? I believe Elizabeth has just brewed a fresh pot of coffee.”
    So it was over that fresh pot of coffee in front of our fireplace that Carl Havens filled us in on what he was doing in our area and how he happened to be our Christmas visitor.
    He had been stationed in Calgary and had come to know our Julie through the small church there. When he received his new posting, and it was up North, Julie expressed a desire to send a Christmas package to her northern family. Havens checked with the Force and they gave their permission for him to act as courier. And so here was Officer Havens on his way to his posting, which was north and a little east of ours, stopping by to see us with a parcel of goodies from home!
    It