Wilderness Days (17 page)

For a moment Keer-ukso just sat there, kissing me back, my lips clinging to his. And then, incredibly, he moved as if someone waking from a dream, and took my shoulders and held me gently away from him.

“Hēilo,”
Keer-ukso said.

“What?”

“No,”
he said, and I was abruptly quite sick of Jargon lessons.

“But I thought—”

Pushing a tangled red curl out of my face, he said kindly, “You are good friend, Boston Jane.” He clarified. “Best friend.”

“A friend?”

“Mika kahkwa ats.”

“What’s that?”

“I teach you more Jargon,” he said.
“Mika
means you.
Kahkwa ats
means like sister.”

“I’m like a sister to you?” I asked, astonished. “But you didn’t kiss me like a sister!”

He blushed. “Like very pretty sister.”

A slow, dull ache settled over my heart. Was I cursed to go through life alone? Was everyone I loved destined to die or reject me? I covered my face with my hands. I wanted to curl up into a ball and die.

“Boston Jane,” Keer-ukso said softly, but I had heard enough.

“You don’t understand!” I shouted in frustration, tears springing to my eyes. “William wanted me for the land, and you think I’m a sister, and Jehu, Jehu—”

And Jehu doesn’t even want me anymore!
I wanted to cry but didn’t.

A wolf’s soulful bark echoed in the rapidly falling darkness.

“Jehu,” I whispered, but his name was snatched away by the wind.

Darkness descended on the mountain, and with it a thick gloom that seemed to fill the very air.

Still Jehu did not return.

“Sleep,” Keer-ukso urged, wrapping a blanket over my shoulders.

I shook my head. No, I couldn’t fall asleep. A feeling of dread as thick as the skunk smell had entered the cave. I knew
that if I fell asleep, he would never come back. That Jehu was lost out there in the snowstorm and he would die. And that my harsh, foolish words had been the last thing he heard from my lips.

Just as it had been with Papa.

The night dragged on. The snow tapered off, and the stars emerged to blink high in the heavens. Had it really just been a few months ago that Jehu and I had danced under a starry sky so much like this one? If I strained my ears, I could almost hear the sound of the fiddle rising in the night air, see Jehu’s blue eyes glittering down at me full of laughter and warmth and something more, something I recognized at the time but couldn’t bear to admit.

He was a sailor, his personality so intertwined with the sea that even his hair smelled like a salty breeze. But why had he turned his back on it? Abandoned a life he loved, to stay in this wretched wilderness?

For you
, a small voice inside me whispered.

I suddenly knew that he didn’t want to marry me to get land. That I had been horribly, horribly wrong. I closed my eyes and remembered the proud look in his eye when Mrs. Frink offered him her crumble cake.

I’ll have a piece of pie. Jane makes wonderful pie
, he’d said warmly, his eyes settling on mine with simple conviction.

He had come back for me. He had stayed for me.

Me, Jane Peck.

And I had driven him away with my cruel words.

Another horrible thought occurred to me. If I had been wrong about Jehu, had I been wrong about other people? Like Mr. Russell?

Mr. Russell, he like you
, Keer-ukso had said. I looked over at him now where he lay huddled by the fire, snoring softly.

All at once I remembered lying in the bunk in Mr. Russell’s cabin, so sunk into myself that I couldn’t hear anything but my own grief beating against my head. And then there was his voice dragging me back from that dark place.

You hear me, gal? I said ya stink!

I hadn’t heard it then, but I heard it now. The worry. The concern.

The mountain man hadn’t been trying to hurt or humiliate me. No, he had bullied me back to life. He had dragged me kicking and screaming back from the edge of despair and dropped me on the porch in the cold rain because he cared about me. Because beneath that filthy, grizzled, uncivilized exterior was a good man. A good man who spat far too much tobacco and could stand to bathe once in a while, but a good man all the same.

Mr. Black’s face rose up before me, a menacing shadow.

I have some unfinished business up this way. Loose ends to tie up, you might say
.

And I had sent him after Mr. Russell, I realized, a lump of anguish sticking in my throat. It was all suddenly too much. I couldn’t take it. Papa was dead. Jehu was probably dead. And Mr. Russell would be dead soon, too. And nothing would bring
them back. Not good manners, or a thousand cups of perfectly poured tea. They were gone forever and I had realized too late what truly mattered.

Or had I?

I looked out into the cold, black night. The wind had died down and a bright moon illuminated the glittering snow.

Jehu was out there, somewhere.

I felt something stiffen deep in my soul, and I grabbed up my walking stick, tugging my cape tight around me.

Then I headed into the wilderness.

The moon was brighter
than any torch, and I walked for what felt like hours, ignoring the cold and my freezing feet. Where could he have gone? The falling snow had obliterated his trail. It was small comfort that he had taken the rifle.

As the night tripped on, I began to lose hope, and by the time the pale dawn light was kissing the horizon I was frantic. I called Jehu’s name, shouting it to the very trees as if they might be kind enough to let me know which direction to take. My footsteps left a clear trail, so I knew I would be able to find my way back to the cave.

“Je-hu!” I called. “Je-hu!”

Sometimes it seemed as if I heard a voice answer, echoing back to me on the cold, chill air.

In the end it was not my cries that found Jehu, but my foot.

I tripped right over him.

He was buried in a thick drift of snow, and only his hat was
visible. I crawled next to him, digging him out as quickly as I could.

“Jane,” he croaked hoarsely, his face pale.

“Are you hurt?”

“My leg.”

There was a long, ragged gash cut through the pant. I felt my way along the leg as Papa had taught me, but I could find no break. Still, it was swelling fast, and he would quite likely have difficulty walking. I tore a length of fabric off my skirt and proceeded to wrap the leg.

“I was getting mighty tired of dried venison. Thought a little roasted rabbit might be tasty. So I set off after this rabbit, and then the ground just gave way beneath me and I went tumbling. Crawled back up here,” he said, leaning his head against my chest, his eyes fluttering shut.

“No, Jehu,” I said, shaking him awake. “You can’t fall asleep.”

His eyes opened a slit.

“Can you stand?” I demanded.

He opened his mouth to speak, and then his eyes went wide in warning. I snatched the rifle from his frozen fingers, whirling around to protect him with my very life.

A familiar large, lumpy figure stood outlined by the rising sun.

“Hairy Bill!” I exclaimed with, I confess, delight.

“Ma’am,” he said, tipping his furry hat.

“Guess you were right about him following us,” Jehu joked tiredly, his eyes shutting again.

“Hurry,” I urged Hairy Bill. “We must get him back to the cave.”

Supporting him between us, we managed to half carry, half drag Jehu back to the cave, one leg tied with a bloody rag, his face pale and drawn. Keer-ukso saw us trudging up the pass and ran down to us. He grasped Jehu’s hand.

“Brought some rabbit for breakfast,” Jehu whispered.

“Rabbit?”

Jehu smiled weakly, and pointed to his sack.

Keer-ukso slapped Jehu’s back in admiration.

I made Jehu comfortable and then prepared roast rabbit for breakfast.

Jehu, who had warmed up by this point and was feeling better with some food in his belly, animatedly described his adventures. After we had finished our breakfast, Keer-ukso and Hairy Bill headed out to survey the vicinity to see if the snow was melting enough for us to continue our journey.

Jehu, his cheeks flush from the fire, his thick black curls plastered to his forehead, his scar winking up at me, fell asleep where he was sitting against the cave wall.

I took off my cape and tucked it high under his chin.

And breathed again.

In the late afternoon the sun burst out from behind its gray shield. The snow rapidly turned into wet, heavy slush.

The swelling had gone down in Jehu’s leg, but I thought it better that he not walk on it, at least for this day. Hairy Bill and
Keer-ukso rigged a litter that they dragged along. As we made our way down the mountain, the slush gave way to deep squishy mud that caught at my boots and tugged at my skirts. Then it began to rain.

In addition to being muddy and smelling of skunk, my skirt was soon soaked, and my petticoats chafed my skin until it was raw. Only Hairy Bill seemed to keep dry in his amazing cape. We walked for an eternity, and finally the rain tapered off. But every step in my thick, wet petticoats made my legs feel like lead. Soon the men and the litter were far ahead of me. They rounded a bend, and when I went round it they were nowhere in sight! Had they left me behind?

Despairing, I sat down on a fallen log. I was in the middle of the wilderness with nothing but wild animals and foul weather, and I had been abandoned. I was going to die here, and nobody would ever find me because they’d have to dig through so much mud to get to the girl—

“Jane.”

I looked up, swallowing hard. Jehu and Keer-ukso and Hairy Bill were all crowded around me.

“Are you okay?” Jehu asked, a strange expression on his face.

“No!” I wailed. “I’m soaking wet, my skirts are muddy, I smell like a skunk, and I’m going to die here in the wilderness!”

“Your hair looks real curly, though,” he said with a gentle smile, fingering a thick wet strand.

“Take off skirt,” Keer-ukso said.

“Take off my skirt? Are you mad?”

He pointed to the thick layers of petticoats. “Too heavy.” He patted his own pack. “Wear Boston pants.”

“Wear a man’s pants? But I’m a lady!” I said hoarsely.

“You’re too pretty for anyone to mistake you for a man,” Jehu said.

Keer-ukso’s eyes seemed to agree with Jehu, and I bit my lip. I supposed no one would see us in the wilderness. See
me
, I amended. My gaze slipped to Hairy Bill, who was looking at me expectantly.

“I’m not going to change in front of you!” I said.

“Don’t mind me, gal,” Hairy Bill leered.

“You,” I ordered Hairy Bill, “go as far away as possible. And you two,” I said, pointing at Jehu and Keer-ukso, “watch him to make sure he doesn’t get lost and wander back.”

“Well, I never,” Hairy Bill muttered. “I’m a married man.”

Keer-ukso dug out the pants and handed them to me, and I went behind a bush. I peeled the soaking wet skirts off. My legs were raw from where the wet fabric had chafed at them. I quickly slipped into the pants. They were huge but blessedly dry. At least they matched my boy’s boots, although I hardly thought that the young ladies back in Philadelphia would be rushing out to purchase the ensemble.

“Quite fetching,” Jehu said when I emerged.

“Oh please,” I huffed, clutching the huge waist.

“They’re a bit big.” He pulled a piece of rope out of his bag and looped it around my waist, his fingers moving fast, expertly knotting. Jehu winked at me. “This’ll keep ’em up.”

“I certainly hope so,” I muttered. “The world is not ready to see Jane Peck in her unmentionables.”

Jehu chuckled.

I began to fold up my skirt. It was a sodden, stinking bundle.

“You’re not carrying that with you?” Jehu asked askance.

Even Keer-ukso groaned.

“Of course I am. After I wash it, it shall be as good as new. I am not about to show up at this get-together dressed like a man! What will the governor think?”

“Who cares what he thinks? That skirt stinks to high heaven.”

“I’ll carry it. I don’t mind the smell,” I said, shoving the mess into my pack.

“That’s ’cause the rest of you smells just like it,” he muttered.

I was exhausted, every muscle aching, when we finally stopped for the night. I rather doubted we’d even walked a mile because of the mud and slush. We camped at the bottom of the mountain, not far from a river that roared and crashed in the distance like an angry child.

I collapsed on a blanket of somewhat dry pine needles, tugging off my boots. My feet were throbbing.

“I didn’t know that feet could hurt so much,” I groaned.

“You haven’t spent enough time on ’em,” Hairy Bill said with a grunt.

“When are we going to get there?” I begged Keer-ukso. I feared that between the lost canoe, the snowstorm, and Jehu’s injured leg we were making very poor progress. “What if we’re too late? What if Mr. Black gets there first?”

Jehu’s head snapped up. “You’re worried about Black getting Russell?”

I folded my hands and looked down. “I’ve had some time to think, and I believe that, perhaps, Mr. Black might have ill intentions toward Mr. Russell,” I said in a careful voice.

“I’m gone for one day and look what happens!” Jehu shook his head and whistled low. “What brought on this change of heart?”

“Nothing,” I said stiffly. “I just had time to think.”

He eyed me closely. “C’mon, Jane.”

I stared at him.

“Well?”

“I saw his back,” I mumbled.

“You saw his back? You mean his bare back?”

I nodded shortly.

He folded his arms, his lips set in a line. “Well, well, well.”

I flushed hotly. “It’s not what you think.”

“I can think of a lot of things.”

“It was foggy. Anyway, he was taking a bath and I saw his back—”

He raised an eyebrow.

“He was taking a bath,” I continued. “Something you could stand to do yourself!”

“Least I don’t smell like skunk.”