Lesia's Dream by Laura Langston Page B

opportunity.” Ivan’s blue eyes darkened with excitement. “And that can be a good thing.”
    â€œAbsolutely” Wasyl nodded vigorously. “War means Ukrainians can fight to regain their homeland. And maybe the Canadian men will join up—that’ll mean more work for those left behind.” He and Ivan shared a grin.
    Though she sat in the warmth of the fire, a cold chill crept down Lesia’s back. This talk of war was frightening her.
    â€œEnough!” Papa said firmly. “Canada is a peaceful country. There will be plenty of opportunity without war.
    â€œThere’s no opportunity in the city,” Wasyl said again. “That’s why I’m walking to Teulon. A farmer there is looking for two men to till and plant his field.”
    Papa and Ivan exchanged looks. “Just two?” Papa asked.
    Wasyl nodded. “An Icelandic fellow who has a half section and enough money to take on two men for a month. Met him in Winnipeg.”
    â€œHow do you know the position will still be open when you get there?” Ivan asked.
    â€œHe’s holding it for me.” Wasyl flexed one arm and chuckled. “I have a reputation as a horse! I work harder than two men together. I was doing pretty well until my last job. That boss was harsh. He worked me fourteen hours a day and fed me just once. At least I was in the barn with the cows. After he went to bed, I’d fill up on milk.”
    The three men laughed.
    â€œHow much did you make?” Lesia asked.
    The laughter ended abruptly. Papa frowned. Ivan looked disgusted. “That’s none of your business,” her brother said.
    â€œI don’t mean to pry.” She appealed directly to Wasyl. “But if I could go out and make some money, I’d like to know how much to ask for.”
    â€œIt depends what you do.” Wasyl glanced at her small shoulders. She could feel herself flushing as he studied her skinny arms. “I worked the fields. But as a woman …” he hesitated, “you could maybe find work plastering ovens.”
    Lesia felt slighted. She wasn’t as fast as Papa or Ivan, but she was just as capable. “I work our fieldevery day. And I killed tonight’s chicken.”
Without a rifle,
she added silently.
    â€œYou’re not going anywhere,” Papa said firmly.
    She ignored him. “How much for working the fields?”
    â€œLesia!” Papa’s voice climbed in warning.
    Wasyl didn’t seem to mind. “A few dollars a day, less by the month. But women aren’t usually hired to work the fields. Try plastering. You could make fifty cents a day.”
    â€œI can work the field as well as any man.” She kicked angrily at the ground. What she could do with two dollars a day! Pay a little to Master Stryk. Buy food. Save some for chickens. Or a cow
    â€œIt doesn’t matter, Lesia, because you’ll be staying here with Mama and Sonia.”
    â€œYou never minded me working in Shuparka.” She crossed her arms defiantly.
    Papa’s eyebrows stretched across his forehead. “This isn’t Shuparka.”
    True enough. Canada was nothing at all like the homeland.
    By the end of the first week in June, the men were ready to leave.
    â€œTake good care of yourself, litde one. And of Mama and Sonia.” Papa smiled down at her.
    Nodding, she tugged nervously on the corner of her apron. “Of course.”
    Mama helped Ivan tie his few belongings into a square of white muslin. Wasyl Goetz played with Sonia. Lesia and Papa were alone.
    â€œThe root cellar is finished. We have an oven now. The garden is starting to grow. And thanks to Wasyl, you have a little fresh meat to keep you going.”
    â€œYes.” She nodded. Wasyl Goetz was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he worked so hard. But a curse for the same reason. In the week he’d stayed with them, he’d helped Papa finish the root cellar, lent a