Chuck's Books

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Little Snowbird by Charles O. Goulet

Chapter 1 -- Tragedy

   The north wind torn at the corners of the building, whistling and hurling frozen scraps of shattered snowflakes before it. Four-year-old Amelia Connolly stared out the frosted pane of glass onto the barren landscape. Beside her, her two-year-old sister gurgled and muttered incomprehensibly.
    Winter had come to York Factory, the main depot of the Hudson's Bay Company on the north bank of the Hayes River a few miles upstream from the Hudson's Bay. Through it, most of the trade goods from England and the furs obtained from the Indians inland were shipped.
    Amelia, a brown-haired girl with soft grey eyes, leaned her forehead against the cold hard pane of glass. It felt refreshing at first, but soon it was uncomfortable. Through the swirling snow, she could see the curled up forms of the dogs, their backs to the wind and their noses protected by their bushy tails. Nothing moved in the great yard enclosed by the fifteen-foot log palisade.
    She knew her father, William Connolly, worked in the large building across the way, but what he did, she was not sure. Her mother, though, worked in the kitchen of the great house, preparing the meals for the master and the other men who lived here. She and her parents had their own small cabin across from the great house. But she liked to come to the great hall, although when it was cold outside, it was often more uncomfortable than their log cabin.
    She looked across to their small log house as a wisp of smoke was torn from the stovepipe that protruded from the moss-covered roof.
    She poked her sister and in a mixture of Cree and English she said, "Let's ask mother to go out."
    The younger girl giggled in agreement; they whirled from the window and hurried across the great dining hall to the kitchen at the rear. Suzanne, their mother, a young Cree Indian woman and several other Indian women, worked in the large kitchen preparing a haunch of moose meat, turnips, potatoes, and bread for the noonday meal. Usually the fort provided three meals for the hungry men--one early in the morning just after sunrise, another at noon and a third in the late evening. These were served in the great dining hall, which was reserved for the men of the fort. The women and children never joined them; they ate in the kitchen, after the men were served.
    Amelia hurried to her mother, who sat on a low stool, peeling potatoes from large pan on her lap. Ordinarily she did not peel them placing them whole in the pot, but the master preferred his potatoes peeled.
    She raised her head and smiled at her two daughters. In 1803, at Fort Assinboine she married William Connolly, a North West Company clerk, according to the custom of the country, which was simply an agreement between her parents and the man who wanted her as a wife. In the spring of 1812 she bore Amelia who was now four years old.
    William Connolly called the child Amelia, but her mother called her "Little Snowbird" because she was small with fair skin and light brown hair, and she flitted about like the small white, black, and buff bird that whirled in great flocks about the fort in autumn and winter.
    "Maman, can we go outside?" Amelia begged.
    Suzanne smiled. Her young daughters did not yet know how cold it was. And she knew that they complained when she dressed them in their heavy duffel coats and leggings.       "No, my darlings, it's too cold. Why, even the dogs are not playing today. The wind'll freeze you in no time. The snow'll bite you."
    Amelia laughed. "Maman, the snow doesn't bite. Dogs bite. And mosquitoes bite and..."
    "No, my darling, you can't go out."
    "But what can we do? There's nothing to do here," she grumbled.
    "You can help with the potatoes. Here, takes these and wash them." Suzanne handed a basin filled with peeled potatoes to Amelia. Girls as young as Amelia were expected to do their share of the work in the fort.
    "Maman, if I do that, can we put on our new dresses."
    Earlier, that summer, when the supply ship arrived from England it delivered new dresses that their father ordered for them. They were summer dresses, light and frilly, but they arrived too late to be worn.
    "Darling, I've too much work to do. The men'll expect their dinner on time."
    "Maybe after dinner?" Amelia pleaded.
    Her mother shook her head sadly. "No, there's too much to do, and your father would never let you wear a summer dress on such a cold day."
    "But, Maman, a summer dress'll make the cold seem warm."
    "Darling, they're all packed away until next summer. Maman would have to unpack them and then pack them again."
    Rosie, a short, stout Indian woman about thirty years of age, lifted her head from the piece of meat that she was fastening to a heavy iron spit. "Suzanne, we'll do your work.   The girls'll be very happy if you'll dress them up."
    "But their father might not approve. Those are special dresses to be worn on special occasions...during the summer."
    "I'm sure he won't mind...and we could ask him. I'll send Mary to the trade house. She can ask him for you."
    Suzanne shook her head vigorously. "He doesn't like to be bothered when he's working. No, I'll ask him when he comes to eat."
    Amelia jumped and danced about in glee. "That'll be fun, Maman. I know Papa'll let us dress up." She grasped her sister's hands and danced in a circle as she had seen her elders do when the tables in the great hall were moved to the side of the room and a piper and fiddler played lively jigs and reels, and the men and women danced in rounds in the center of the room.
     "Girls, we don't know if Papa'll let you wear your dresses today."
    The possibility that their father might not let them did not enter their minds. Maman had agreed; that was most important.
    The meals were quite formal affairs with the master of the fort at the head of the great center table, his back to the huge stone fireplace that filled the whole wall. Next, his clerks, in order of importance, sat to his right and left. All waited for the master to begin the proceedings. The conversation was subdued, formal, and serious; frivolity was not allowed.
    Amelia could hardly contain her excitement. She knew that Papa would let them try on the new dresses. She could imagine the light, fancy dresses with their red bows and lace petticoats. She had seen them when Maman unpacked them on their arrival. Oh, how pretty they were!
    She watched from the kitchen doorway as Maman served the men, as she stopped beside Papa and whispered something in his ear. She watched as he listened attentively, his face solemn --unsmiling--frigid almost. Then he nodded.<
    Amelia was certain that he said yes. She could hardly contain herself as she waited for Maman to return to the kitchen. Finally Maman finished serving the other men and headed toward her. She knew that she must not shout out, but she wanted to. She wanted to cry, "Maman, can we?" but she waited holding onto to her little sister's hand.
    Once Maman was in the kitchen she whispered, "Maman, what did Papa say? Can we?"
    A smile flitted across Maman's face. Amelia knew that Papa had agreed. "But you must wait till later...till the meal is over...the dishes are done...and all the other work is done."
    Amelia nodded her head vigorously. "We will.”

    Two hours later, the great dining hall was empty and quiet. The dishes removed; only the huge fireplace along the north wall crackled and roared as the logs burned brightly. The wind still moaned around the walls yet the men had returned to their duties.
     From one of the upper rooms, Suzanne carried a leather trunk and placed it before the fireplace. Amelia and her sister crowded around as Maman opened the treasure chest.
    Bonnets sat atop frilly, lacy, underclothes. Maman carefully placed two bonnets on the bearskin rug. Amelia cried, "Maman, let me try one."
    The pink lawn bonnet with a narrow brim and rosettes on each side of it had two narrow satin ribbon ties. Amelia reached for it.
    "No, Little Snowbird, you mustn't touch it. Maman'll do that.
    Carefully, Maman picked up the bonnet, and shook it gently. The ties rippled like waves on the nearby river. One of the other women sighed, "My, but they're pretty. Put it on her."
    Amelia moved toward her mother who placed the bonnet on her head and adjusted it carefully. Then she tied the ribbons into a large bow beneath her chin. The soft material clung to her face and cheeks. The ribbons tickled her chin. But it felt so silky and it smelled so clean.
    "Oh, Maman, this bonnet's so beautiful, it makes me feel as if summer's here."
    Maman laughed and picked up the other bonnet that she placed on the younger child's head. The girls laughed gleefully. They stood admiring each other as Maman removed the other garments from the trunk and placed them on the bearskin rug. Amelia turned to peer into the trunk. A pink dress with an elaborate skirt lay on the bottom.
    "Maman, is that mine?"
    "Yes, Little Snowbird, that's your summer dress."
    "Maman, take it out; let me see it. Let me wear it."
    Amelia struggled with the ties on her heavy cotton dress that covered her from neck to ankles. She unfastened them along the front and slid the bodice down over her shoulders.
    "Amelia, don't do that! You must wait until Maman decides to let you wear the dress."
    "Oh, Maman, you will! You must! It's so beautiful."
    Slowly Maman lifted the gossamer dress from the trunk. It fell in cascading folds, its flounces shimmering in the flickering light from the fireplace.
    "This is your sister's dress."
    Amelia stared up at her mother, shocked. Did that mean that there was no dress for her? Her eyes misted in disappointment. She rubbed them with her right hand to clear them. The dress was so beautiful, filmy and light with pink bows at the shoulders and along the front. And the skirt was long falling in neat pleats.
     Her sister moved to her mother, who quickly removed her heavy cotton dress with its tight long sleeves, its plain bodice, and its narrow skirt. Then she slipped the new dress over the younger girl's head. The skirt fell over her tiny body, and the girl struggled into the puff sleeves that came just above her elbows. Her mother arranged the dress over her shoulders and buttoned the bodice along the back.
    Amelia's face shriveled into a grimace. "Maman, I'm the oldest. I should be first."
    Maman ignored her and smoothed the folds along her sister's small body. Then she twisted the child to face her. She retied a small bow that had come undone on her right shoulder. The women behind oohed and aahed.
    Amelia forgot her disappointment at not being first as she admired the dress and her small sister. It fit perfectly. The bodice snugged up against her torso and the sleeves ballooned into fluffy puffs. Maman tied the ribbons snugly about the child's arm and the tiny pink bows added to the overall effect. The folds of the thin material fell down to her ankles.
    Amelia laughed. "Maman, those moccasins don't fit that dress. Take them off!"
    Maman nodded her head. Amelia was right. They did seem out of place. She bent to the moosehide thongs that encircled the child's ankles holding the flaps of the tawny coloured moccasins. She untied them and slipped them from the child's feet.
    "Maman, it's my turn!" Already Amelia was untying the thongs that held her moccasins. She kicked the first one off and then the second.
    She slid the top of her heavy dress from her waist and moved toward her mother.    Maman reached into the trunk and drew out the second dress. It was misty blue satin that shimmered and glistened in the light of the flickering flames.
    Amelia stared at it entranced. It was even prettier than her sister's with its fine lace around the collar, the sleeves, and hem. It too had puffed sleeves, but it had a fine crocheted belt around the waist. Could this beautiful garment be hers? She could hardly believe it. It was too beautiful. It was meant for a fairy or a sprite that peopled the spring and summer woods. Not for a little girl who lived in a cold fort in the North Country.
    "Maman, it's beautiful. Is it really mine?"
    "Yes. Come, let's put it on."
    Amelia stood before her mother waiting. She closed her eyes as her mother slipped the satiny material over her head. It felt cool to her skin, but not cold.
    It slipped over her shoulders and she could feel the pleats of the skirt fall over her body, caressing it.
    She opened her eyes, and stuck her left hand through the sleeve opening, then the right. This dress, unlike her sister's, buttoned down the front from her neck to her waist, the buttons small and shiny, like small pearls.
    "It's beautiful, Maman. I love it so."
    "Yes, Little Snowbird, it's pretty and you're beautiful." Her mother completed the fitting and then held her at arm's length.
    Amelia looked at her sister. Her pink dress made her look like an angel. If she, herself, looked as pretty, she was pleased.
    She swung away for her mother, and turned toward her sister. "Come, let's dance." She grabbed her small sister's hands in hers, raised them up and looked her over. How pretty she looked? She stared down at her own dress. The pale blue satin shimmered in contrast to the frothy filmy pink of her sister's dress. She had never seen anything so beautiful. She twirled her sister about, and the light skirt billowed outward. Her sister giggled, and tried to do the same to her, but she was awkward and clumsy.  Amelia dropped her sister's hands and twirled herself. Her skirt was not as light as her sister’s was so it did not billow out as far, but the flickering light from the fireplace caught it and she was fascinated by the variegation of colours. She twirled once more trying to force the folds of the skirt higher.
    Her mother laughed, as did the other woman. The girls' delight pleased them also.
    Maman clapped her hands. "Girls, we must take them off now. You can't wear them all afternoon. You'll get them dirty."
    Amelia stopped. "Maman, please let us wear them a little longer. They're so beautiful. They make it like summer."
    "But, my darling, it's not summer...it's winter. We must save these beautiful dresses for summer."
    "I know, Maman, but just a little longer."
    Amelia grabbed her little sister's hands and started to laugh. She started to whirl in a circle as she had seen her elders do when they danced. She laughed with glee, and her sister joined her. One of the women clapped a rhythm and the two girls pirouetted about, laughing and giggling, their voices high-pitched and excited. Another of the ladies joined them as they whirled and wheeled.
    Amelia dropped her sister's hands and wheeled away by herself. The faster she twirled the more her skirt billowed, twisting and lifting as the air caught it. She rotated faster and faster feeling dizzy as she twisted. She stopped to catch her breath.
    Her sister tried to imitate her, her small feet moving awkwardly as she pirouetted. Her gossamer dress ballooned as she turned and circled before the small group. She kept whirling; she closed her eyes and stumbled briefly. She caught her balance and twisted away from the group toward the fireplace. She danced and pranced on the stone hearth.
    She stumbled again and fell toward the flaming logs. She caught her balance in front of the opening. The flames flashed and flickered. One licked out toward the child. The edge of the billowing skirt moved into the flame. The gauzy material ignited brightly.
    One of the women screamed.
    The entire skirt burst into flame. The child screeched and ran. The flames licked up enveloping her in a film of red and orange that replaced the pink of the thin dress.
    The child shrieked as the material turned black and her hair became a mass of flames.
    Amelia screamed.

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