With Love from Bliss (Saskatchewan Saga Book #2) by Ruth Glover Page A

church services. Beyond, and divided from the cloakroom by a big heater that roared red-hot most of the school year, was the schoolroom proper. In front of the smallest desks was the teacher’s battered desk, and behind, the blackboard stretched from wall to wall. Above the blackboard hung two large, oak-framed pictures. One depicted a child walking on the edge of a dangerous precipice through the gloom of a storm, with an angel hovering above, wings outspread protectively. The second pictured a huge dog beside a seething sea, a childish form crumpled on the sand at his feet as though just dropped from his open jaws. In each, it seemed clear that protection and rescue were available for children, but Dudley, who had studied them countless times across the years, never could decide whether to put his trust in angels or dogs.
    Now, settling himself on the side bench with the youthful males of the community, Dudley—out of school several years and no longer concerned with the mishaps of children, whether pictured or real—focused his attention on the bright gaggle of girls seating themselves, with much flouncing, whispering, and giggling, on the opposite bench. And on one girl in particular.
    Fair hair done in braids and wound around her head, face prim and proper, Matilda Hooper’s blue eyes were less severely under control and, for a moment, flickered across the room to the watching Dudley. Both young faces colored brightly, and anyone watching would be quite certain there was more than casual friendship between the two.
    Both Matilda and Dudley had gone through the Bliss school. Dudley was now verging on eighteen, Matilda on seventeen, and both considered themselves old enough to think seriously of their future. That it might be together was not an impossibility. In fact, since last night, it looked like a distinct possibility. Obviously, from the attention each now fixed on the other, things had progressed to a tentatively serious plateau. WhileDudley was young, for a man, to be considering marriage, not so for Matilda; girls married at fourteen and fifteen in this land that was fast filling with bachelors and widowers. Marriageable women were at a premium; no female had to settle for second best when, with a little patience, another prospect would be along with another proposal.
    Just last evening, Dudley and Matilda, walking out together, had found the courage to share the private thoughts each had hidden thus far. Even so, plans were in that dreamy, nebulous stage where anything could be considered and all things were possible. Dudley, very manly in Matilda’s presence, felt old enough and capable enough to register for a homestead of his own; Matilda, feeling equally grown up, was thrilled by the challenge—pioneer days were by no means over!—and confident she could do her share in making such a venture a success. Though they were penniless, their dreams could see a way. Their future, after all, lay here in the north, with other homesteaders no better prepared than they were.
    The first settlers to dare the western wilderness had hugged the wooded areas commonly called “the bush.” One immediate problem was easily solved—material for a home. It grew right on the property and in abundance: trees. By law, land had to be cleared almost immediately to prove up a claim, and felling logs for a home was a good place to begin. Caulked with clay or mud, with hand-hewn shingles for the roof—or sod if one were in a hurry—a log house could be ready for occupancy. Hopefully one could afford the extravagance of doors and windows brought in by cart or steamboat; inside, mud-plastered walls were whitewashed. A rug, if it was available, was placed over the packed-dirt floor, a few treasured items were hung on walls or placed on shelves, and home took on a certain comfort and familiarity.
    Though all this had been accomplished on his father’s homestead before his memory, Dudley was certain that he, too, could make a home