Wilderness Days (13 page)

“Yes, but you see,” I said nervously, “I just removed the grass.”

“What?” he shouted, whirling around to stare at me and nearly dropping his paddle.

Keer-ukso looked over and gasped.

“Why’d you do that?” Jehu shouted.

“Because it was most uncomfortable!” I said. “I’ve been sitting on it for hours.”

“Well, you’re gonna be a whole lot more uncomfortable unless you start bailing,” he said.

“Paddle for shore!” Keer-ukso ordered, expertly changing the direction of the canoe.

The water was rushing in fast, and there was nothing to bail with except my hands, which I used to no effect. The water was so cold my fingers turned blue.

Quite miraculously the men managed to get us to land before the canoe was entirely flooded. Jehu and Keer-ukso hauled it up on shore and collapsed on the sand, breathing hard from their exertions. After a little bit Keer-ukso got up and went over to the canoe, inspecting it. We joined him, observing the damage. A huge section of wood was missing. It was plain to see that the canoe wasn’t seaworthy.

“I’m sorry,” I said, twisting my hands. “I didn’t mean to sink the canoe.”

“It’s not your fault,” Jehu said with a sigh. “M’Carty didn’t keep this canoe in good repair to begin with.”

“Can’t you fix it?” I asked desperately.

“Too much time to fix,” Keer-ukso said with a frown. “Faster to walk.”

“What do we do now?”

“We have some supper, sleep, and get an early start,” Jehu said, picking up the packs, which had somehow managed to stay mostly dry.

I collected driftwood, and shortly we were sitting around a crackling fire. Keer-ukso passed around some dried venison strips and a loaf of roasted
camas
, a Chinook specialty. It was very sweet, and I was rather fond of it. Between the fire and the food, I was feeling a little better.

An owl hooted softly in the night.

“Memelose,”
Keer-ukso said, scanning the tree line.

“That was an owl,” I said irritably. The back of my skirt was still rather damp.

“Yes, it is owl. But
memeloses
speak in voices of animals,” Keer-ukso explained patiently.

“I don’t believe Mr. Black is a ghost,” I said firmly. Except for the pesky little detail of him not eating anything. “Or a murderer. Why, he milked Burton for me! Murderers do not milk cows.”

“They don’t, huh? Met a lot of murderers in your time?” Jehu asked, the fire glow playing softly across his scarred cheek. The stars were shining down on us from the black sky, and for one long moment Jehu’s eyes met mine across the fire. And then he looked away.

“I don’t need to. I have always been an excellent judge of character, and I could tell Mr. Black was a decent, gallant gentleman.”

“You met him once, Jane.”

“Three times,” I clarified. “But Miss Hepplewhite says that a first impression is all one needs to—”

“You have a lot to learn about so-called gentlemen,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh I do, do I?” I drew myself up. Jehu could be so condescending sometimes. “I was graduated from Miss Hepplewhite’s Young Ladies Academy with top marks. I know all I need to know already.”

“There’s more to knowing things than schooling.”

I stared at him furiously. “Well, I know a lot!”

He folded his arms, his eyelashes low. “Well, if you’re so smart, how come you’re sitting on a crab?”

“What?”

I leaped up. There was nothing there!

Jehu laughed.

Keer-ukso roared in laughter, too.

“You are the most ill-mannered, filthy, blasted—”

Jehu shook his finger at me. “Now, now, Miss Peck. Wouldn’t want you to say anything
Miss Hepplewhite
would disapprove of!”

Still chuckling, Jehu and Keer-ukso got up and retrieved bedrolls from their packs. They rolled them out on the sand and began to lie down.

“Where is the tent?” I asked.

“Tent?” Jehu repeated.

“Yes, the tent. Where we sleep,” I said slowly, as if I were explaining something to a very small child. “To protect us from wild animals and such.”

Keer-ukso said, “No tent.”

“You didn’t bring a tent?” I asked, aghast.

“Tent is heavy,” Keer-ukso explained.

“But we’ll be right out in the open!” I said, waving a hand at the darkness edging in from all directions. “Just look!” It was one thing to sleep in Mr. Russell’s cabin, but it was quite another to sleep on the beach in plain view. “Anyone or anything could just sneak up on us!”

“Nothing’s going to sneak up on us.”

“Well, this is most poorly planned,” I said. “I am going to go search for shelter.”

I trudged up over the dunes and walked for a time. Then, in the distance, I spotted it. Not two hundred yards away was a log cabin.

“Hello!” I called, but no one answered.

I opened the door and peered inside. The cabin had clearly not been lived in for some time and smelled musty with disuse. The roof appeared to be caving in on one end, but it seemed to me it would protect us for one night. There were two rough bunks in its spacious interior.

I reported the good news to the men, who warily returned with me.

“Very old. Probably Hudson’s Bay Company man,” Keer-ukso said, inspecting the cabin.

“Seems okay,” Jehu acknowledged.

“It will protect us from the elements,” I pointed out.

Jehu yawned widely. “Right. Let’s move our things and get some sleep.”

We moved the provisions and the bedrolls, and kindled a new fire. I took one bunk, and Keer-ukso the other, and Jehu settled down on the dirt floor by the fire and closed his eyes. A moment later, I looked across the shack to see that Keer-ukso was asleep, too.

“You can’t both just go to sleep! Someone has to stay awake and keep watch!”

“Great idea. Why don’t you go first,” Jehu said, and then turned on his side.

I heard something that sounded like a snore coming from Keer-ukso’s general direction.

“You’re not really asleep, Keer-ukso,” I said suspiciously. “Who’s going to stay awake and guard the camp?”

“I choose Boston Jane,” he said sleepily.

“Seconded,” Jehu added with a loud yawn. “Just go to sleep, Jane. We don’t need a watch. And we’ve got a lot of territory to cover in the morning.”

There was a scuffling sound from outside the cabin. “Did you hear that? It sounds like someone’s right outside.”

“Probably just grizzly bear,” Keer-ukso said.

“Grizzly bear? But I thought grizzly bears lived by rivers. Do you think one wandered this close to the beach—”

“Jane,” Jehu groaned. “He’s just trying to rile you up.”

Soft chuckling came from Keer-ukso’s bunk.

“It’s not amusing,” I muttered, tugging my cape up to my chin and looking around fearfully. My blanket was still sopping wet from plugging up the hole.

All was quiet for a moment. And then the distinct sound of growling came at me from the blackness behind Jehu. I sat bolt upright.

“Jehu, what was that?”

The growling abruptly turned into soft chuckling, and then full-throated laughs, and soon Keer-ukso was roaring in laughter, too.

“You’re both impossible!” I flipped away from them and stared into the blackness, determined to guard the encampment. My vigilance was the only thing standing between us and certain death.

There was no way I was going to fall asleep.

The melancholy voice whispered in my dreams, thin as a ribbon, tugging at me, pulling at my eyelids, dragging me up from a deep sleep. There was so much pain in the song, such an aching sorrow that I had to open my eyes.

I looked up to see a rough-hewn roof and warm firelight flickering on wooden walls. Momentarily disoriented, I then remembered I was in the trapper’s cabin. I heard the reassuring sound of Jehu snoring softly.

Was never a prettier girl than Lucinda
.

I turned to the voice.

He was sitting by the fire, across from Jehu’s sleeping form, digging a stick in the dying embers. The song was soft, rising like a sad wail on the dark night, dancing high into the stars. His white starched shirt seemed to glow in the cabin, unearthly, and his pale horse nickered softly in the distance.

“Mr. Black,” I whispered, but he didn’t seem to see me.

He kept stirring the coals, the flames rising now, sending sparks high. Was this sorrowful man a murderer?

An owl hooted softly in the night and Mr. Black turned to me, his dark eyes glowing in the firelight.

“It’s always the people closest to you who betray you,” he said, his voice like quicksilver.

And then as he stirred the coals, the embers seemed to swirl out of the fire, flying through the air at me. They landed with biting stings on my arms and legs. I slapped them away, but no matter how fast I put the embers out, more of them landed, burning me, stinging. I slapped them away from my arms, my face, and then—

I woke with a start. It was morning, and gray light filtered in the windows.

My face felt hot and itchy. I looked down at my arms, touched my cheeks, and groaned. I was covered with little red, itching bumps.

Fleas. The cabin was positively teeming with them. “Oof,” I said scratching. “Blasted pests.”

Keer-ukso was sitting up now, and scratching madly at his legs. “Fleas are most troublesome.”

Jehu had gotten the worst of it, sleeping on the ground. His face was puffy and red. He scratched furiously at his arms. “Well, now we know why they abandoned the cabin,” he said pointedly.

“I didn’t know!” I wailed.

“Maybe water help,” Keer-ukso suggested, and so we all trooped down to the bay and doused our burning skin with
water. It cooled the itching temporarily, but a moment later the searing sensation was back.

“If we’d had a tent in the first place, we wouldn’t have had to sleep in that flea-infested cabin,” I pointed out.

“The cabin was your idea,” Jehu said, irritable now.

“Well, you obviously don’t know anything about the wilderness, and I’m counting on you to protect me. We’re clearly not prepared for this expedition. We have no tent, and no medical supplies, and only one rifle.”

“Not to mention no canoe,” Jehu added wryly.

I reddened but continued. “I think we should turn around and go back and get adequate supplies and maybe even some more men. Then I wouldn’t need to come at all!”

“We went over this,” Jehu said, scratching at his neck. “We can’t lose time, and we need you because you’re the only one who knows what he looks like. We might as well get moving. It’s gonna take us a lot longer by foot.”

The morning dragged by slowly as we walked along in silence. The sky was as gray and grizzly as it had been blue the day before. Keer-ukso led us through the winding woods, with only the occasional sound of scratching breaking the quiet. We were all quite miserable. When we paused for a drink of water, I saw that Jehu’s face bore raised red welts from where he had scratched himself raw. He scratched a patch of arm in a determined way.

“You shouldn’t scratch,” I said. “Papa always said that scratching does more harm than good.”

“Thanks for the hint,” he said shortly.

“There is no need to be unpleasant, Jehu.”

He made a disgruntled sort of sound, got up, and started walking again.

I picked up my pack reluctantly and started after them—and that was when I saw a green feathery plant.

What had Mr. Swan said?
Toke told me that this plant is quite therapeutic for all manner of skin ailments. Apparently one is supposed to put the leaf directly on the skin
.

I plucked a small shoot and rubbed it gently on my arm. It immediately felt better.

I hoisted my pack and raced after them with a handful of stems.

“Wait!” I shouted. “I found a cure!”

They paused and regarded me dubiously.

With a flourish, I presented them each with a portion of the leaves. “Just rub them on your skin,” I said.

They looked at me warily but did as I instructed.

Jehu looked a little disgusted at the thought, but Keer-ukso put them right on his cheek. He sighed happily. Then Jehu placed his leaves eagerly on his face. For a moment it seemed that they wouldn’t work and then his eyes fluttered shut. He gave a moan of relief.

“Now, that’s what I call a mighty fine tonic.”

I smiled triumphantly. “Remind me to apply for a patent when we’re back in civilization. I can call it Miss Jane Peck’s Amazing Tonic.”

“Cures all ills!” he quipped.

After soothing our skin
, we were filled with renewed vigor and seemed to cover a great deal of ground.

“You sure do have your moments, Jane,” Jehu said, handing me a sturdy stick. His face still looked terrible, but he was clearly feeling better.

“Mr. Swan mentioned something once.”

“It’s a good trick. He’s a clever man.”

“Oh, he’s clever all right,” I said disdainfully. “He’s so clever he gambled away all our money.”

Jehu just stared straight ahead.

“Do you know that he never even apologized?” I said, stopping and putting my hands on my waist. “All he can talk about is how wonderful Mrs. Frink is!”

He rubbed the top of his own walking stick. “Maybe he feels ashamed.”

“He should feel ashamed,” I retorted. “If I never sew a shirt again, it will be too soon.”

Jehu looked as if he wanted to say something, but he simply sighed and said, “Come on. It’ll be getting dark.”

When we finally stopped for the night, I pulled my boots off and massaged my poor feet. They were swollen and throbbed, and there was an angry-looking blister on one of my heels. Clearly my boots had not been designed for any length of walking.

“I wonder what Mrs. Frink would do in a situation like this,” I said, eyeing my poor feet sadly.

“She’d probably get out her rifle and shoot us some supper,” Jehu said. “And help gather firewood.”