Mountain Rose (18 page)

"Bring your mount on in, Donlin," he said.

Chase gave Sampson's reins a tug, noting as they moved forward the heavy split-log gate pulled to one side. He realized that it had been the gate that made the grating sound. The lantern gave a feeble light and he jumped when he bumped into the rear end of an animal. An old mule, he discovered when he lifted the lantern, throwing its light on the animal.

"That's Mabel. Watch out for her hind legs," Will advised. "She's a mean bitch. Would just as soon kick your teeth out as look at you. Me and her have been fightin' for fifteen years."

"How come you to keep such a dangerous animal, especially round a youngin' growin' up?"

"It's a strange thing, but she's never been any danger to Star. She's always been good around the girl." He gave a dry laugh. "Star has a way with animals. I guess like knows like. Star is as stubborn as a mule, and just as mean sometimes."

Daniels pointed to a wide alcove off to one side. "That's Star's mount. Her pride and joy. She trapped one whole winter to get enough money together to buy the animal."

"And well she should be proud of this fellow." Chase studied the muscular stallion as well as he could by the dim light. The sorrel had great speed and endurance, he'd bet. Sampson would probably be hard put to out-run the big brute. Will's granddaughter must be big and strong to handle him.

"Tie your mount to one of the rings I've pounded into the wall," Will broke in on Chase's musing. "Put him a good distance from the sorrel. It'd would be an awful fight if them two started battlin' each other."

When Chase had snubbed Sampson to one of the rings pointed out to him and lifted the saddle off the broad back, Will started walking deeper into the cave. "Come on through to the livin' quarters," he called over his shoulder.

"You live in a cave?" Chase's lips curved in a half smile, not really surprised that this rough, grizzled hill man
would
live in a cave.

"Yep, sixteen years now." He stopped and stepped aside so that Chase could walk past him. "I only meant it to be temporary when I chased a bear out of here and moved in with my infant granddaughter," the old man grunted as he dragged another heavy gate across an opening where the cave narrowed to a width of no more than four feet, but where the tall ceiling remained the same. "There was a freezing rain comin' down, and I had to get her somewhere where it was dry.

"But as the days and months dragged by, I was so durned-busted busy takin' care of the youngin', runnin' a trap line with her strapped to my back, I never seemed to find the time or energy to build a cabin. By the time she was eight or nine and I had more time on my hands, me and her liked

it just fine in the cave. It was home."

Chase walked behind the old man, down a stone tunnel with several twists to it. "When you stop and think about it," Will picked up his story, "it's better than a cabin. It's wind free, which you gotta appreciate in the winter. As you can imagine, it gets mighty cold up here. And in the summer, when we get them fierce storms, there ain't no safer place from the lightnin' than inside a cave.

"Star, she's mighty fond of settin' in the entrance, watchin' the lightnin' zig-zag among the trees, bringin' some of them down, her knowin' she ain't gonna be touched. 'Course, in the winter we get snowed in often. I always keep a sturdy shovel handy."

Will came to a halt and turned to Chase. "Well, what do you think?"

Chase gazed around the large, almost perfectly square room with appreciation. The setting sun flooded the room, showing in relief the cozi-ness of the floor covered with bear and panther skins, the walls hung with colorful woven Indian tapestry.

In the center of the room, the old man had built a large, circular stone wall about two feet tall, topped off by a foot-and-a-half wide ledge. Inside the round fireplace, red coals glowed; smoke drifted up and disappeared through a crack about an inch wide and nine inches long. A black pot sat to one side in the warm ashes.

On either side of the fire-pit was a handmade rocker of pine poles held together with strips of animal hide. Both chairs were well padded with bright Indian blankets. Chase's eyes drifted to the north wall, where there was a long narrow table, a bench flanking each side. These were also made in the same fashion as the rockers. A bowl of wildflowers had been placed in the table's center. He looked at grizzled old Will and knew that the feminine touch came from his granddaughter. He could not visualize the old man picking flowers.

When Chase discovered the two beds along the south wall, his eyes widened. What ingenuity Will Daniels had used in fashioning them! He had built two regular-sized bedframes, then with a heavy rope had suspended them from the ceiling, coming within a foot and a half of the floor. Again, colorful Indian blankets had been put to use, covering thick mattresses of some sort.

Will saw his stunned look and gave his cackling laugh. "Star calls them swingin' beds. I got the idea from a cradle I fashioned for her right after we moved in here. I was afraid to let her sleep with me for fear I'd roll over on her and squash her little body. I couldn't let her sleep on the floor because of bugs." He smiled his toothless grin. "Also I could give it a push and it would swing her back to sleep if she happened to wake up durin' the night."

Fond reminiscence softened the old man's eyes. "She was a good baby. Never a cry out of her unless she was hungry."

"How in the world did you feed a three-month- old baby?"

A huge grin spread across Will's face. "That's a story in itself. Set down and I'll tell you about it."

Chase took one of the rockers and waited, sure that he'd be entertained. Will took the one across from him and began. "I first took Star to the Indian village a couple miles from here to see if there was a new mother who would wet-nurse her. There wasn't a baby in that whole tribe under a year old. But a young brave, Star's cousin, told me to go back to the cave, that he'd soon have my problem solved."

Will shook his head. "That baby was screamin' her head off by the time that young man arrived with a nanny goat. He had run five miles to a nester's place and stolen the animal. She had freshened recently and her teats and udder was full of good rich milk. Well, neither one of us had ever milked a cow, much less a goat. But Red Fox had watched the farmer milk his goats several times and knew that they had to stand on somethin' in order to be milked. He managed to get the nanny up on a flat boulder, then he held the bleatin' beast by the rope around her neck and looked at me. 'You milk now,' he ordered me."

The old man scratched his head as though he still couldn't believe that late afternoon. "I didn't even have a bucket, only a peach can I had emptied for lunch. I rushed inside to get it, and by then Star's face was beet red from anger and cryin'. I knew that somehow I had to get the milk out of that goat.

"I squatted down beside her and began tryin' to coax the milk from her. 'Damn pale-face fool,' Red Fox growled at me when nothin' came out of the teat, 'do not use thumb and finger. Squeeze with palm.' Back in the cave Star was screamin' louder and louder and I was gettin' nervouser and nervouser, and real mad at that arrogant brave. I slammed the can down and yelled, 'If you know so damn much about it, you get the milk out of this beast.

"My answer was a high-toned 'Brave don't do women's work.' I felt like grabbin' his tomahawk and scalpin' him with it. But of course I didn't. I was too thankful to have the blasted animal. So I got down to business, curled my hand around the full teat and squeezed. That brave smiled as wide as I did when a stream of milk hit the tin can with a ringin' sound.

"Then, with a can of rich, warm milk there rose the question, how was I gonna get it into that empty little belly. About that time Red Fox grunted and pulled an empty whiskey bottle from under his breechclout. He took the milk from me and emptied it into the bottle. And while I was wonderin' was he gonna pour it down the baby's throat, he reached into his breechclout again and brought out a piece of soft doeskin shaped like a woman's nipple. He fastened it on the bottle's neck then handed it to me. Indian women use this when they have no milk of their own,' he grunted.

"At any rate, Star grabbed onto that homemade tit and emptied that bottle in no time flat."

Chase looked at the old man in wonder. "Just goes to show that a man can do most anything when he has to," he said, mostly to himself.

"If he sets him mind to it," Will agreed. "Some give up too easy, though that kind don't last long here on the frontier." He stood up. "I'll just set this pot of stew on the coals to heat up a little more, then we'll have a swig or two of whiskey. Star will be comin' home soon and we'll eat."

"Where'd you get this likker?" Chase asked a few minutes later after sampling the fiery whiskey. "It's not bad."

"There's a fur post on the back side of the hill a mile or so away. I get my supplies there." Will sat back down. "I mosdy keep it for medicinal purposes. I can't take a chance drinkin' too much and gettin' my brain all muddled. Got to be always on the alert for Star's sake."

He set his half-empty glass on the floor beside the chair. Then, at the end of a long sigh, he said, "I'm gettin' along in years and bothered a little by my heart. Sometimes the old ticker just seems to stop for a while, like it's tired and wants to rest a spell. While I hold my breath, willin' it to start up again, it scares me half to death, thinkin' of leavin' Star up here all alone."

Will lapsed into silence, staring into the fire, while Chase sipped at his glass of whiskey. He gave a startled jerk when the old man asked abruptly, "You married, Donlin?"

Chase's face softened. "I will be, just as soon as I get home."

"Got no more desire for other women, then?" Daniels watched him closely.

"No, my Raegan has spoiled me for any other woman."

The old man stood up and walked to the mouth of the cave. He stood there several seconds, turning his head, looking to his left and right, then walked back to the fire and sat back down. "I see Star comin' 'bout a half mile away. There's somethin' I want to ask you before she gets here."

"Ask away." Chase put his empty glass on the floor.

"I'm askin' you to take Star with you when you leave tomorrow mornin'."

Chase sat forward as if he'd been shot. "Are you serious, man?"

"Dead serious. I told you about my heart. What would happen to that girl if I dropped dead? As wild and independent as she is, Star couldn't handle that. That's bothered me for the past year. I worry about how she could take care of herself. I don't want her livin' with her Indian relatives and she knowin' nothin' about civilization. She'd be like a frightened little animal, suddenly shoved amongst a bunch of people she don't know. But if she stays up here, some man will get to her, ruin her."

It dawned on Chase why Daniels had questioned him about his married state. He wanted to make sure that his granddaughter wouldn't be jumped on as soon as she was out of his sight. Well, he thought, the old fellow didn't have to worry about that, because Chase wasn't taking her home with him.

He shook his head, prepared to answer that it was out of the question, but Will pressed on. "You'd take in an orphaned fawn, a wolf cub, wouldn't you? Tend them until they were able to be on their own? Would you turn your back on a young girl who is just as helpless in many ways?"

Raegan's face swam before Chase. If not for him, what would have happened to her? The answer came quickly. The same thing that had Will worried about his Star.

"How do you know that I'll treat her right?" Chase looked squarely at the old man, hoping to discourage him. "For all you know I may be the meanest bastard in these Oregon hills."

"No." Will shook his head. "I watched you with your stallion. You've got a gentleness in you. You'd not harm my girl—nor let anyone else, either." His eyes entreated Chase. "Will you do it?"

Chase threw up his hands in defeat. "Hell, how can I say no to the kind of argument you put up."

A wide, relieved smile split Will's face as he rose to his feet. Reaching a hand across the fire, he said, "Shake on it, friend."

Wondering what he had gotten himself into, Chase leaned forward and gripped the gnarled hand. The old man sat back down then with a long sigh of relief. "The old reaper can come for me any time he wants to now."

The girl's moccasined feet ran nimbly over the carpet of pine needles, following the old dog bounding toward the river she could see through patches of the trees. All day she'd had a hunger for fish. If she hurried, she'd catch enough for her and Paw's supper before sundown.

She arrived at the spot where she kept her canoe hidden in a stand of thick, tall reeds. "Get in, Scrounge," she ordered the dog. When the animal jumped in and was settled, she pushed the bark vessel into the water, then hopped in herself. As she knelt in its center, the boat circled a moment, then as though an unseen hand had grabbed it, started gliding downstream.

Star Daniels applied the paddle with long, powerful sweeps through the water. Half a mile away was her favorite fishing hole. She seldom left it without a string of six or so bass.

The canoe skimmed along and within fifteen minutes Star was turning its nose toward the river bank, bordered with tall grass. She stopped suddenly, then back-paddled a short distance. She quietly lifted the paddle from the water and let the canoe drift to the thick vegetation. She had spotted a flock of wild duck, a chance to get fresh meat without wasting a shot.

The canoe nosed silently into the foot-high bank as the girl held her breath. She prepared to step into the water, then swore angrily. The dog had barked and the startled ducks had scattered in all directions, squawking and flaying the water with wildly flapping wings.

In their confusion, however, some scutted into the grass instead of swiming for the open river. The girl's eyes shone with satisfaction. She'd be able to nab one after all. She swung herself out of the canoe and stepped into knee-high water.

But the ducks, experts at concealment, had glided away like snakes, leaving no rustle to mark their passage. It took her at least fifteen minutes to detect a faint stirring in the grass and to grab a good-sized fowl by the neck.

"Come on, Scrounge," she said with a big grin, "Let's get home. We'll fish tomorrow. Paw will be worryin' by now."