Heart of the Wilderness by Janette Oke Page A

had thrown it away. Given it to the gods of the lake. She had been careful that the first light of the moon was tinting the ripples of the water. But no loon had called. There had been two loons on the lake. Kendra had pleaded in her heart for one of them to call to the other, but they had stubbornly refused. Was that the problem? Were the loon brothers also angry?
    Kendra buried her head in her arms and began to weep. It was so hard. So hard. So hard to keep all the spirits happy. She hadn’t meant to make them angry. Had tried so hard to undo the damage. It seemed there was just no way to live at peace with the spirit world.

    George McMannus spent the next two days patching the roof of the cabin, and as he worked he often shook his head in wonder. How had the elderly Indian woman and his young granddaughter managed to save the structure? He couldn’t imagine the number of trips she must have made up and down the ladder. Again he was thankful that he kept the tall pines and spruce from encroaching too closely on the space around the cabin. If the fire had spread to tree branches, they would never have saved the cabin. There would have been a forest fire that might have taken a large sweep of the area. He might even have lost his little girl to the flames.
    He should not have been so careless. He knew well that chimneys need frequent cleaning. He knew that a buildup of soot and wood tars could be disastrous. Why hadn’t he paid closer attention? Why hadn’t he checked it sooner?
    It was another reminder to George that his cabin, miles from civilization, was really not a proper place for a young girl. He pulled out the letter he had penned a few weeks earlier and went to the post to send it off to the head mistress of the girls’ school. He had to make proper arrangement for Kendra. He could put it off no longer.

Chapter Ten
    School
    “Why do we need to go to the city?”
    He was sure Kendra already knew the answer to her question. He had explained it carefully to her before they left the cabin. But he answered her again, “So that you may go to school.”
    “But why do I have to go to school?” she argued. “You teach me.”
    “Yes—I have taught you—some. But there is so much more to learn than I’ve been able to teach you. You need to learn about lands and peoples and discoveries and inventions. I can’t teach you all of those things. I don’t know about them—and I haven’t got the maps or charts or books that tell about them.”
    Kendra was silent. To his relief she had not resisted the trip when he had first told her about it. But he did wonder if she was feeling the change more deeply than she dared to let on.
    “You will like it at school. There will be other girls of your own age. You will make many friends.”
    “I already have friends,” said Kendra stubbornly.
    “What friends?” He wondered if Nonie had been sneaking her off to the village when he wasn’t around.
    “Nonie,” said Kendra. “Nonie and Oscar.”
    George McMannus smiled, but he also felt sadness. He should have brought the young girl out earlier and let her have a chance at being a part of the real world.
    “When do I go to school?” she asked him. “How many more days?”
    “We’ll have a whole week before school starts,” he answered, trying to put some enthusiasm into his voice. “Mrs. Miller is going to help us get you ready for school. She knows how to shop for young girls. We might even pay a visit to Mrs. Weatherall—if you’d like. Remember her?”
    Kendra did remember. Slightly. She had liked the woman well enough. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to pay a visit.
    “Would you like that?” her grandfather pressed.
    “I don’t think so,” Kendra replied simply, her head turning from him. He did not push the subject further.
    “We will do your shopping then,” said her grandfather. “That should be fun.”
    Kendra looked down at her soft buckskin garments. Her feet were still comfortably shod in her