The Winds of Autumn (4 page)
“The boys and I,” Aunt Lou corrected me, but her smile took any sting out of the words.
It seemed to be settled. Grandpa never did really say yes— but he never said no either. After further discussion, it was decided that we could hike up to the spring on one day, spend three nights camped by the small pool at its base, and then return home on the fourth day. Before I knew what was happening all five people around that table were busy planning what I’d need to take along on that camping trip. By the way their list was growing, it sounded to me like I’d need me a wagon to be hauling it all.
Oh, well! They all meant well. I’d sorta do some sorting through the list myself after they’d had their fun. In the meantime I’d have to get word back to town to the other fellas. We needed to get ourselves going and out on that trip before the School Board announced they’d found us another teacher.
I
DON’T KNOW WHO
was most excited that morning two days later when the three of us hoisted packs on our backs and started off down the trail that led to the crik.
As it turned out, Jack was unable to join us. We all felt rather sorry for him. His pa had said a determined no—Jack had to stay home and stick to his studies if he was going to be ready for medical school. Jack had been just about sick over it all and, knowing how I’d felt if I’d had to stay home, I felt a little sick myself.
So it was that Avery, Willie and me packed our gear, with a lot of help and advice and instructions from our families, and started down the tree-lined path to the crik. I had only one other regret besides Jack’s not getting to go—I had to leave Pixie behind. After talking it over with the three menfolk, I just didn’t feel like a campsite was a fit place for a tiny little dog like her, and I knew she’d never be able to walk as far as we were planning on walking. With my arms needing to be free and my back loaded down, I knew I’d never be able to carry her either.
Just before we disappeared from view of our yard, I turned for one more wave. There stood Grandpa, Uncle Charlie, Gramps, and even Uncle Nat and Aunt Lou—they came back out to the farm after the weekend because she didn’t want to miss out on any of the excitement—still watching us go. I even saw Aunt Lou blow her nose on her white hankie. You would think we were marching off to war or something. They all looked glad and sad at the same time—happy we were doing something we really wanted to do, and anxious that everything would go alright, and a bit sad that we were growing up.
We three were feeling anything but sad, though, as we stepped out briskly, hardly able to wait until we got out of sight of everyone so we’d truly feel we were on our own.
Our steps slowed down soon enough as the morning wore on. The packs on our backs were feeling a mite heavy and the sun was getting a little warm. It wasn’t so good underfoot when we left the worn cow path either. The willow shrubs grew right down to the crik bank, and we sorta had to fight our way through them. We didn’t want to leave the bank for fear we’d lose track of the crik among all the trees, so we just kept pushing our way through brush and briar.
I think we all breathed a sigh of relief when we began to see clearing ahead of us and realized the crik was taking us out through the brush and across Turley’s cow pasture. The walking would be much easier.
We had just crawled through the fence and were ready for a better path when Avery groaned real loud, stopped and leaned against a fence post.
“I say it’s time for a break,” he stated. Even though Willie and me were still in a big hurry, I guess we were both getting kinda tired, too.
“We’ll rest when we get across the pasture,” Willie stated, but Avery didn’t even budge.
“I’m resting now,” Avery informed us, and we knew it was useless to argue. Avery slid the heavy pack from his shoulders and sat down with his back against it. Secretly I wondered how he’d ever make it all the way to the crik mouth if he was already played out, but I said nothing. Fact is, I didn’t mind the idea of a bit of rest myself.
It hadn’t been long since Aunt Lou had stuffed us with bacon, eggs and fried potatoes, but Avery seemed to have forgotten that. He reached in his pack and pulled out a handful of Aunt Lou’s cookies. Willie and me didn’t want to miss out, so we each took a handful, too. The rest, the cookies, and a drink from the crik seemed to refresh us and after several minutes I began to get impatient again. I knew Willie was too, so we suggested to Avery that it might be time to move on again. By my calculation, we’d come only a couple miles and we still had a good piece to go.
Rather reluctantly, Avery picked up his heavy backpack and tugged the straps on his shoulders. Willie and me both picked up ours, shrugged our way into them, and then started off again, me leading the way on account of being the most familiar with the area. It was much easier walking now. Not only were we out of the heavy brush, but the pastureland had been eaten close by the grazing cattle so even the grass was nice and short.
The herd of cattle belonging to the Turleys was feeding nearby, but we paid them no heed except to notice how nice and fat they were and how round their red sides looked.
We had almost reached the other side of the pasture when we heard the awfullest commotion! It sounded like a stampede— and heading our way, too!
I guess we all wheeled around at the sound, expecting to see that whole herd of cows headed right for us.
It wasn’t the whole herd—but it might as well have been, for there, coming straight for us, his head lowered and his nostrils snorting out little puffs that blew up tiny clouds of dust, came Turleys’ big red bull. Say, if you ever wanted to see three fellas move in a hurry, you would’ve seen it then. We forgot all about our heavy packs and how tired we were. We just lit out for the closest fence as fast as our legs could take us.
I guess I got there first. I didn’t even slow down, but just dropped to the ground and rolled right under that barbed wire with one quick motion—pack and all. I heard a sickening tearsound, and I knew I had ripped the piece of burlap that Aunt Lou had carefully wrapped my pack in. I felt bad about that, but I was powerful happy to be on the other side of the fence from that bull.
Willie whipped under the fence next and rolled right into me. I guess it was then that both of us looked back to see how Avery was faring.
Boy, were we scared! Avery was heading for the fence as fast as his legs could carry him, but he never had been too athletic or nothing, and that bull seemed to be gaining every stride.
“Drop your pack!” I hollered without even stopping to think. If I had, I might have decided that Avery would probably spend more time trying to free himself of that pack than he would save by being rid of it.
Somehow he managed to get his pack off his back and let it fall while he still kept a-running. It might have been his undoing had not that bull taken a sudden interest in that pack. He stopped chasing Avery and stood there pawing and snorting, and then he charged Avery’s dumped load as it lay there on the ground. He hit it with an awful smack and wasn’t content with that. He sorta ground his horns into it, then hooked it and tossed it up. When it came down he pawed at it again with a sharp hoof, then threw it back into the air, snorting and puffing and carrying on something awful.
In the meantime Avery scrambled under the fence to join Willie and me, panting and puffing and deathly white. I felt a little white myself. Especially when I saw how that bull used that pack Avery had left behind. I was sorry to see Avery’s bundle being pawed and pushed right into the ground, but I was sure glad it wasn’t Avery.
We lay there trying to collect our wits and quiet our breathing. First I guess we were all just happy to be alive. Then we began to worry some about our supplies.
We had divided our stuff as evenly as we could. I had my bedding, our pots and pans, dishes and cutlery and my fishing gear. Willie had his blankets, a hatchet for cutting firewood, our matches, a first-aid kit and some of our food supplies. Avery had his blankets and most of the food. So with big eyes and sick stomachs, we lay there watching that bull making a big mess of things.
“Scrambled eggs,” whispered Willie, a twinkle in his eye in spite of our predicament.
“Sh-h,” Avery hissed, his eye on the bull. “You might make him mad.”
“Mad?” It was my turn to whisper. “He’s mad now.”
“Well, madder then,” responded Avery.
“Don’t see how he could get any madder,” I insisted. “Look at him rip things up.”
There was nothing we could do about it. We had to lay there and watch that bull have his fun until he decided he had done all the damage he cared to. He left off worrying the pack and came over near the fence and glared at us, still snorting and fuming. We were ready to run, but the scrubby bushes nearby would offer scant protection from this beast. I told the fellas to lay stock-still so we wouldn’t rouse that bull up none, and we just held our breath and waited. We sure hoped with all our hearts that the mad bull wouldn’t decide to challenge the barbed-wire fence that separated us from him.
Finally the bull wearied of standing there snorting, and he turned and went back toward the cows, bellowing and blowing as he went. He didn’t go far though, and every once in a while he circled back our way and snorted at us again just to remind us that he still knew we were there.
We couldn’t go on. Not without Avery’s pack—or what there was left of it. We hoped at least the food Aunt Lou had packed in tins would still be okay and we would be able to salvage enough to make it through the next three days.
There was no way we could get back into the pasture with that bull still snorting around, so we just moved away from the fence a ways and sat down to wait.
Not much of a way to spend one’s camping time. The sun climbed up in the sky and got even hotter and there wasn’t a speck of shade. I propped my pack end-up as high as I could and tried to at least get my face out of the sun.
We were all getting awfully thirsty and hungry by the time the sun moved toward the west.
“You’ve got
some
food, right?” I asked Willie.
He shifted his pack around so he could get into it. It had been tied and wrapped carefully, so it wasn’t easy to find the food items without disturbing everything. It had been packed to stay secure until we reached our campsite.
Willie found a loaf of bread and I dug a bread knife out of my bundle. We sliced the bread in rather thick, crooked slices and passed them around. We didn’t have even the cheese we had joked about.
By late afternoon the sun was really warm. I had to shift my bit of shade several times. I think I dozed off now and then. Guess Willie and Avery did, too.
When I woke up and pulled myself into a sitting position, that bull was back at the pack again. I had hoped by now the cows might have led him clear across the pasture. They hadn’t. He still sniffed and snorted but he didn’t work the bundle over anymore.
“We’ll never make it to the campsite by dark,” grumbled Avery.
“I’m just hoping he left us something to eat,” remarked Willie. “We can camp here for the night if we have to and go on in the mornin’, but it sure will be a miserable night iffen we don’t have somethin’ more’n bread for supper.”
I agreed.
We were about to give up on that bull ever leaving when the cows decided it was time to head for the barn for milking. The bull looked over at us, snorted again and started off after them.
We let him go a good distance before we even got near the fence. Even then Avery wouldn’t crawl through. He had himself too big a scare.
I was the one who went for the pack. It took a bit of doing to gather everything up and bundle it together well enough so I could get the whole thing carried to the other side of the fence.
Avery’s blankets had some holes in them and they had been rolled in the dirt in first-rate style, but other than that, they looked fairly usable. The food was another matter. The tins were all dented and some had popped their lids—dust and dried grass were all mixed in with the contents. There was only one egg in the whole dozen that wasn’t smashed to bits, and we wondered how in the world it had escaped.
A few things were still edible, and we figured we’d at least have us enough food for our supper. We were all pretty hungry, so we busied ourselves with rustling up some kind of a meal. We blew the leaves and dirt off Aunt Lou’s corn bread, covered it with butter, and chowed it all down with some beef jerky Grandpa had sent along. It was already getting dark, it being so late in the fall, and we knew we’d have to give up any idea of traveling on.
There wasn’t any shelter to spread our blankets under, either, so we just did the best we could right out in the open.
“Boy, am I tired,” sighed Avery. I was too, though
why
I was escaped me. We had walked only a couple of miles and spent the rest of the day dozing there in the sun.
“We’ll have to get up early and get on to the campsite,” said Willie. “We don’t want to lose another day.”
Avery pulled off his shoes and started to peal off his pants.
“Whatcha doin’?” Willie demanded. “Ya don’t undress when you’re campin’.”
Avery shrugged, pulled his pants back on again and crawled under his dusty blankets.
By morning I think all of us were right happy for every stitch of clothes we were wearing. In spite of the blankets, it was cold out in the open. A glaze of frost covered the grass around us and I wondered if there might be a bit of it covering my nose as well.
We didn’t dare build a fire. The stubble grass around us was too flammable. Besides, we had no wood anyway, so we just sliced off some more bread and ate it with Aunt Lou’s cold beans. It was some kind of drink we missed the most. Aunt Lou had tried to talk us into bringing milk, but we insisted that it would mean more to carry and our loads were heavy enough as it was. We’d have the cold, sweet spring water, we assured her. Well, we would’ve too if it hadn’t been for that old red bull.
We wrapped up our packs the best we could, shivering while we did so, and started out for our campsite before the sun had even crawled over the eastern horizon.