The Best of Intentions

Elizabeth Sinclair knew that she was in trouble when all she wanted to do was lay down in the snow and sleep. She had been pulling Dale and Arline on the sleigh down the middle of a dark road towards home, but it seemed to be taking longer than usual. Exhausted, shivering, her mind feeling fuzzy and now she seemed to be walking slower and slower. Then somewhere in the silence of the dark forest an owl hooted twice.

One way or another she had to lighten the sleigh load. She paused, scrunching down in the snow checking their little faces pinched with cold for frostbite, and then she asked four and a half year old, Dale, if he could walk for awhile.

“Sure Mum,” he replied cheerfully and climbed out. He looked up at her, took her extended hand and then added bravely, “Don’t worry, Mum; we’re going to make it home.” His little legs were short, and he didn’t walk very fast but by holding onto her hand part of the time, he managed quite well.

But even as Elizabeth paused again for a minute shushing Arline’s tears, she knew it would be touch and go. It was well after their supper time, they were hungry and already chilled. The sky was almost dark, the air increasingly cold, the sleigh kept tipping in the rutted tire tracks and home was still a couple of miles away. She wondered where George was, he should have returned with the car by now. Then she heard the owl hoot again.

It was the best of intentions that got Elizabeth into this dangerous situation. This was Thursday, the prearranged day she drove to a spot on the Nechako River near Bednesti and picked up George. During the winter months when he worked out on the trap line, she picked him up there and drove him home for a couple of days.

The trouble had all started in the afternoon when Elizabeth first tried to start their car but the engine was too cold. Then the battery had been taken out, warmed in the house, but the engine still wouldn’t turn over. She did everything possible, short of building a fire underneath the engine but the darn old thing just wouldn’t start. The thought of George waiting in the freezing cold across the river compelled her to try again and again. Finally she gave up and asked to borrow Harry’s car that was kept in the garage.

Grandma Eva volunteered to watch her baby. Soon after bundling Brian up, Elizabeth ran with him across the farm yard to their house. Then back home again dressing Dale and Arline warmly, snowsuits, heavy wool socks in their boots and mitts and scarves. She remembered to put the sleigh and a blanket in the back of the car in case the car slid into a snowy ditch. And that’s almost exactly what happened.

The narrow road through the bush to Bednesti was clogged with last night’s fresh snowfall, but she slowly drove to the prearranged place and beeped the car horn twice. That was their signal, two beeps and then George would paddle across the river in his funny little boat.

While she was waiting for him, she tried turning the car around, and that’s when it really happened. In just a few minutes the car was stuck ‘tighter than hell’. There she was with two small children on a very cold late afternoon stuck out in the middle of nowhere and no sign of George.

He should have crossed the river by now. Feeling uneasy and wondering if something had happened to him, she tried the horn again and waited a few moments. Impatiently, she tried again. Now she was really concerned, but then at long last, she heard the crack of his rifle being fired to signal he was on his way. Turned out there had been a problem and he was delayed longer than usual.

After several unsuccessful attempts at digging the car out of the snow, George quickly assessed their situation. It was growing colder by the minute, the car was stuck fast and the watery winter light was already fading from the sky. He thought they had better start walking. Thank goodness Elizabeth had remembered to bring the sleigh. They quickly bundled the children up in the blanket on the sleigh and then began hiking back down the road towards home.

Jack Little’s place was a good two mile walk and then from there, another three miles further to their farm. Even though they made good time, after two miles out in the cold air, the children were fretful so they decided to stop at Littles.

The plan was for Elizabeth and the children to stay there in the Little’s warm house while George continued walking home, start their car and return as soon as possible.

But for some reason Elizabeth never did understand, on that night the reclusive bachelor Little brothers didn’t extend the usual pioneering welcome, didn’t offer to share their hot supper, or give the children a warm drink.

The children were hungry and before long had become whiny and cranky. Elizabeth had always made a point of taking some food along for them, but this time being preoccupied with starting the car she had forgotten. Without waiting any longer, she decided to begin the three mile walk home and meet George on his return with the car. She thought surely by now he must have already got the car started and was driving back up the road.

As she stepped out of the house into the sharp air, Elizabeth was confident they wouldn’t be outside for very long. But by now darkness had fallen and there was only a greyish light from the moon reflecting off the snow that made it possible to see.

She struggled making her way along the road pulling the sleigh but still no sign of George, no beams of light from the car bouncing off the winter black trees. She paused tucking the blanket carefully around Arline again. She had to keep going but by now the cold was seeping deep into her bones and slowing down her progress.

It was her young son’s lively personality, constant jabbering and willingness to help pull the sleigh that kept her putting one foot in front of the other.

She never did meet up with George. He too had trouble with starting the car and never dreamed Elizabeth would begin walking home, assuming if necessary, she would spend the night at the Little farm.

She rounded the bend, now at the top of the hill, but more than that, they were almost home. With Dale once more in the sleigh, staggering down the hill she made her way through the snow to the house.

Finally she opened the kitchen door and pushed them inside releasing a flood of relief. Freezing, covered with frost, tears frozen on their faces all of them were shivering and near the end. They crumbled into a heap on the floor. The walk home had turned out to be more than she had bargained for.

Later after the children were tucked into bed, she told George, had she collapsed back along the road, she was quite sure, Dale, at just four and a half years old, would have continued on by himself. Carried on down the dark road making his way through the snow the remainder of the way home and find his dad. He might have been full of beans a lot of the time, but he was quite the fearless and brave little boy.