In the Season of the Sun (22 page)

The ledge that had served to mask the movement now became a liability, for it blocked her shot. She would have to clamber around the ledge to bring the mountain goats in sight. She'd have to risk spooking them; there was nothing else for it. Tewa leaned forward in a crouch. She held her elk horn bow and a black-feathered arrow in one hand. She placed another arrow between her teeth and started to climb, then froze after her first step. She spied Jacob on the ridge wall, farther to the right. He was following a less precipitous route that offered a good deal more cover. She had considered the course as well, except that the boulders played out about seventy yards from the lick and Jacob would have to cross virtually barren rock to close in on the lick. And even then, with the animals downwind, Jacob would spook them.

Jacob waved to Tewa, above and to his left, concealed in the shadows beneath the ledge. Tewa watched as he made a gesture as if he were shooting a bow. She stared at him, uncomprehending. He pointed at her and then at the goats above and repeated miming a bow shot.

She nodded in understanding. He wanted her to be ready to use her bow. For what? She had no target. The ledge blocked her. As long as the animals stayed by the lick, they were safe from her bow. Unless something drove them out into the open. Something or someone. Tewa worked her way to the opposite corner of the ledge. It was slow going. She took extra care to work herself into position. Once the animals above caught sight or scent of Jacob Sun Gift, they'd try to escape by scampering out of range of the oncoming hunter. Some were bound to cross Tewa's line of fire.

Down below and off to the side, Jacob waited for Tewa to position herself at the farthest corner of the ledge. Once she was poised and obviously ready to take a shot, Jacob stood and loosed a wild war whoop and waved his hands in the air as he charged the herd.

The mountain goats seemed to move as one. They sprang from the lick and bounded out of harm's way. Some took to a direct ascent. Others chose an easier course, an all-but-invisible trail that ran the length of the ridge.

Tewa darted out from behind the ledge as a plump-looking ewe leapt past. The Blackfoot huntress skidded to a halt; the bowstring twanged, sending a black-feathered shaft to its mark. The animal's legs buckled and it nosed down into the shale. Tewa braced herself, fitted a second arrow to the string, and started to shoot when the ground beneath her gave way. She lost her balance, fired wild, and fell away, rolling head over heels in an avalanche of gravel.

She landed on her back, arms and legs spread wide to still the spinning world while she struggled to catch her breath. A face blotted out the morning's glare. She recognized the sound of Jacob's voice and as consciousness returned, she began to understand what he said.

“Are you all right?” He spoke in an urgent tone, the expression on his face mirrored the concern he felt.

Tewa frowned; she was embarrassed by her fall. She had intended to impress Jacob with her ability. Instead, the young woman felt she had only succeeded in making a fool of herself. Jacob hauled her to her feet. Tewa freed herself from his grasp and proceeded to dust herself off. She had lost her wolf-pelt cowl and her black hair hung free. She looked up, daggers in her stare as Jacob laughed.

“I can hunt as well as any man!” Tewa indignantly stated, anger in her voice.

“Better than most.” Jacob folded his arms across his chest as he studied her. “I was a fool to say otherwise. There is only one place for a warrior.”

“And where is that?” Tewa inquired, exercising fragile control over her hot temper.

“Alongside the one who has opened his blanket to her,” Jacob replied.

“I … I do not know of such things.”

Man and woman stood in awkward silence, grown quite unexplainably ill at ease by the subject of the courtship ritual. Jacob at last broke the uncomfortable tableau. He pointed past Tewa. “See what the little wolf has brought down.”

Tewa turned and spied the ewe she had shot, lying on the slope. Blood splotched its snowy coat where Tewa's arrow jutted from the animal's heart.

The mountain goat was just over four and a half feet from nose to tail, a solid-looking animal, well muscled and ready to be rendered into cuts of meat once it was carried back to camp.

“A good kill, little she-wolf. As true a shot as any I've seen,” Jacob said, leading the way. Tewa paused to retrieve her elk horn bow. She had dropped the weapon to keep from breaking it during her fall. As she approached her kill, Jacob dabbed his hand in the animal's blood. He straightened and reached out to Tewa.

“Let me see your hand,” Jacob said.

Tewa looked at him in surprise, then uncertainty gave her cause to frown. A breeze tugged at her long black hair. In that molten-gold brilliance of high-country sunlight, Jacob felt his inner workings flip-flop at the sight of her.

Tewa extended her hand. Jacob dabbed the blood from his hand onto her palm. Then he cupped her hand in his.

“Together we have walked the mountain. We have killed that we might have life. We return to the lodge, together. And it is good,” Jacob said.

Tewa could feel the warm moisture of the blood between them. She could feel the beat of Jacob's palm. It warmed her as well. Given to solitude, she would have been tempted to draw away and rebuke him for such a liberty. Now she felt strangely drawn to him, compelled to speak, to make at least some token reply. She willed herself to say something. Anything was better than standing here with a hollow core for a stomach. And wondering. Wondering. Wondering.

“It is good.” A tremulous smile brightened her features. And the heart of Jacob Sun Gift soared.

24

F
ever set in. It lasted three days and broke the fourth. During that time, Lone Walker was never alone. Jacob spent much of the time at his father's side. He kept a fire burning and an extra blanket close at hand when the chills set in. He bathed his father's brow and even managed to get him to eat some weak broth once in a while. Tewa and Wolf Lance offered to help and managed to force Jacob into a little rest, but, for the most part, Lone Walker was cared for by his son.

So it happened on the fourth day, Lone Walker opened his eyes and saw Jacob seated beside him, slumped forward, his head rising and falling with each breath. Jacob stirred, then continued to snore as Lone Walker rose upon his elbows. He did not know how much timé had passed, nor did he really care. Being alive was all that mattered.

Lone Walker studied the interior of the lodge. There were willow backrests and many pelts. A willow frame in the corner was covered by a buckskin shirt that Tewa had begun to decorate with the last of the beads and porcupine quills and tiny colored stones no bigger than buttons that she had found in her travels. The girl and her father were both gone. Lone Walker sniffed the air, inhaled the mouth-watering aroma of rabbit stew, and managed to sit up. His wounded shoulder sent a stab of pain coursing through his body as a warning against too much movement. But if Lone Walker practiced restraint and kept his movements slow and deliberately paced, he found the wound bearable. The stillness was a nuisance though.

Lone Walker slid over to the fire and helped himself to the stew, taking a bowlful of the bubbling broth. Using a wooden spoon, Lone Walker noisily began to eat. He slurped the broth and devoured the chunks of meat, wild onion, and fry-bread dumplings floating in his clay bowl.

“Father,” Jacob blurted out, abruptly awake. He hurried to Lone Walker's side.

“I can feed myself,” Lone Walker snapped, unintentionally gruff. “It has been many years since I sucked at my mother's breast.” He cocked a weary glance at Jacob's tired, worried features. If the young man was wounded by his father's remarks, he did not show it. “How many mornings have I slept through?”

“Four,” Jacob replied.

“Ah. Too much sleep. I'm as stiff as an old grizzly after his winter sleep.”

“And you growl like one,” Jacob added, daring his father's bad temper.

“Saa-vaa,”
Lone Walker muttered in disgust. “Was there ever such a son?” Then with a hint of a smile he reached over and patted Jacob's arm. “Such a faithful son?”

“Where is Tewa and Wolf Lance?” Lone Walker asked.

“I am here,” the girl said, stepping quietly through the doorway. She held the beginnings of a buckskin shirt. Behind her, through the momentarily open doorway, Lone Walker could see it was beginning to snow. Large feathery flakes dotted the air, drifted silently to earth. Tewa's wolf-pelt cowl glistened with moisture; droplets gleamed like diamonds against the gray-black fur. She brushed the pelt aside and squatted by the campfire.

“It is good to see you living,” Tewa said.

Lone Walker noticed she and Jacob seemed to be purposefully avoiding each other's glances.

“I am happy as well.” Lone Walker attempted to reposition himself. The movement sent a sharp stab of pain through his shoulder and down his back. He groaned and fell back against the willow backrest. Both Jacob and Tewa came to his aid, one on either side of him. Each tried to support him and in so doing their hands met, then closed one upon the other.

Lone Walker waited for Jacob to help him sit up. He looked up at his son, at Tewa. Man and woman dutifully returned to the task at hand. But what Lone Walker had seen gave him cause for concern. He was old enough and perceptive enough to know when two are called together. He had walked the same path, as a young man, and taken Sparrow Woman to warm his blanket, his lodge, his life.

Tewa crawled over to one side and began stitching, with quill needle and sinew thread, on the buckskin shirt. There had been no time for being alone with Jacob since the hunt. He had remained at his father's side and she had tried to wait with him. Wolf Lance was always finding something for her to do. Still, every so often, she would find some excuse to join Jacob in the lodge. There by his side, she learned how he came to Ever Shadow and the Medicine Lake village. And she had spoken of her own life, lived in solitude, as if in hiding, from what? A dream? Yes, a dream and nothing more.

The door to the lodge burst open as Wolf Lance made a dramatic entrance, and from the accusatory look on his face he was expecting something more than what he found … Lone Walker both awake and alert, Jacob at his father's side, and Tewa on the opposite side of the fire.

“I—I have seen to the horses. There is shelter and food for them in the corral.” He kept the horses hidden in a grove back up the valley in a small box canyon whose entrance he had sealed and secured with a makeshift fence. The animals had been kept in a meadow, where they could roam free and graze at will. But as the weather worsened there was no choice but to drive them into the box canyon. He gave Jacob a final suspicious glance and then turned his attention to Lone Walker.

“My heart is glad to see you looking stronger.” Wolf Lance stretched his hands out to the fire. “Cold Maker is coming. Soon you must be ready to ride.”

“My father hasn't the strength to sit up by himself, much less ride a horse.” Jacob spoke in a flat, unemotional tone of voice. “And we are staying here until he can ride.”

Wolf Lance ignored the younger man. He fixed his attention on Lone Walker, who seemed to read the mind of Tewa's father. “We will leave tomorrow,” he said, nodding sagely.

“Father, no,” Jacob protested.

“I have said it.”

“No. I will not permit you.”

“Permit? Am I your son now? Every day we risk being trapped here. Now I have spoken. We leave tomorrow and the matter is ended.” Lone Walker hunkered down in his blankets and tried to rest.

Tewa started to offer her protest, but a sideways look in her father's direction cautioned her to keep her opinion to herself. In truth, Tewa knew her motives were selfish. She enjoyed having Jacob around, although she was too shy to admit that fact to his face. The emotions, the feelings, his nearness aroused left her very confused.

“Do not worry,” Wolf Lance said. “This storm will not last. The passes will be clear.” He stood and returned to the door, yanked it open, and disappeared outside. “I will bring firewood,” he called over his shoulder.

Jacob rose and followed him. He found Wolf Lance in the grove of firs at the side of the house. Tewa's father was busy gathering wood from a pile of dry kindling he kept stacked among the firs to keep the timber dry. Wolf Lance straightened and still had to look up at Jacob, who towered over him.

“I thought you were Lone Walker's friend,” Jacob said, barely controlling his anger. He was without a coat and the cold cut right through him. Melting snowflakes soon matted his yellow hair, turning it the color of wet straw. His breath clouded the air.

Wolf Lance already held an armload of wood. Now he stood as one transfixed. He made no reply. Indeed he no longer even looked at Jacob. His gaze appeared to focus on something in the distance with such an expression of horror that Jacob finally had to turn to see for himself what dreadful thing commanded the brave's attention.

In a matter of seconds, he understood. For through the snowfall's thickening swirls, Jacob could make out the far slopes and the jagged ridges, risen out of the broken landscape, whose summits were obscured now in thick gray clouds. A storm raged in the passes. At such an elevation the wind would howl and kick up a blizzard, and the snow would come down in blinding sheets.

“Too late,” Wolf Lance muttered, a mixture of sorrow and despair in his voice. By morning, the passes to the east would be completely blocked. The Above Ones had tricked him. Cold Maker had played him for a fool.

“Looks like we are all trapped now,” Jacob said.

“Yes,” Wolf Lance replied. And the look in his eyes was as bleak as the storm raging above the timberline. “Trapped …”

25

S
nows came. White powdery flakes covered the earth, melted, froze again in layer upon layer. As days became weeks, the snow in the passes piled too deep to walk in unaided.