Wilderness Days (18 page)

“Ooof! I wish you
had
frozen to death! Then maybe I could finish a sentence properly.”

“It’s all about ‘properly’ with you. What’s so proper about watching a man take a bath? That something you learned at that fancy school of yours?” he drawled.

“I was fetching water and he was at the stream and I saw his—”

“Bare back,” Jehu supplied helpfully.

“And it was covered with terrible, terrible scars!” I finished on a screech.

Jehu was silent for a moment. He and Keer-ukso exchanged a meaningful look.

Keer-ukso pressed his lips together and nodded. “Probably not
memelose,”
he said thoughtfully.

After a restless night haunted by dreams of Mr. Black’s inscrutable face, I awoke early, tired and wrung out.

It had rained again sometime during the night, but now the sun was peeking its pink head over the trees like a curious kitten. A man’s snoring rumbled in my ear. Keer-ukso was sprawled out, fast asleep an arm’s length away from me, but both Hairy Bill and Jehu were gone.

Had Mr. Black set upon us during the night? Had he kidnapped Jehu and Hairy Bill at gunpoint while we slept? Was he picking us off one by one, just as he’d done with the rest of the Silencers?

A snatch of song whispered through the morning air, elusive as the wind.

Mr. Black?

I took a deep breath and set out carefully, creeping low. The song became louder as I got closer to the river.

I peered through the bushes—and could hardly believe my eyes.

Jehu was kneeling by the river, my skirt in hand, scrubbing it against the rocks as he hummed a sea tune.

He was washing my skirt!

For a moment all I could do was watch him as he scrubbed my filthy skirt in the river. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. He stood ankle deep in the water, his black hair gleaming in the sunlight like a crow’s wing. He slapped and banged and rinsed my skirt again and again, holding it up to smell it every few minutes, pulling back with a grimace each time. My heart swelled so full with love I thought it might burst—and then it nearly stopped beating.

For ambling lazily up along the riverbank was a grizzly bear, headed right for Jehu!

It was clear to see that I was going to have to rescue him again.

I bolted out of my hiding place, shouting loudly to get the bear’s attention. “Oh hello! Pardon me!” I shouted to the bear.

The bear paused and looked at me, as if curious. And then its head went down and it started to lope on again.

I grabbed up a rock the size of my palm and threw it with all my might at the bear.

“Jane—no!” I heard Jehu shout.

The rock bounced off the bear’s head, and it turned on me with a roar.

“Run, Jane!”

I ran up along the river, the bear growling behind me. I dearly hoped Jehu had the rifle with him. For by the roaring of the bear, it was plain to me that an apology, however well-intentioned, would not suffice.

Ahead of me, the riverbank narrowed to a cliff.

“Hang on, Jane!” Jehu hollered, limping as fast as he could on his injured leg.

I paused on the edge of the cliff, looking back. I could see Jehu in the distance scrambling up after the bear, but he was still quite far. The bear, however, was steps away from me. It shook its head and roared at me, advancing at a terrible pace, its teeth sharp and snarling. I looked at Jehu and back at the bear and then did the only thing one could do in such unfortunate circumstances.

I jumped, of course.

While I had not given the present situation much study, I was well aware of my history of bad luck when it came to cliffs and rivers. I had fallen off a cliff during the summer and had nearly drowned trying to rescue a canoe from a river. It seemed to me that the most sensible way to avoid such predicaments was to
steer clear of cliffs and rivers. I considered all of this as I went tumbling through the air, the landscape a blur, the colors bright around me, the sound of Jehu’s shouting a soft note in the background.

When I hit the icy water, the breath left my body.

My head bobbed up, and I opened my mouth and sucked in great gulps of air as the current swept me away.

I was traveling fast down the river and I was freezing cold, but I felt amazingly calm. Perhaps I was getting used to putting my life in danger. Still, it seemed very silly to think of drowning on such a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the sky was the bright blue that always came after a storm, and come to think of it, it wasn’t really all that terrible a way to die. Drowning certainly seemed a kinder way to end one’s days than being eaten by a grizzly bear.

“Jane!”

Jehu was shouting at me from the riverbank, and the next thing I knew, he had dived into the river, and I felt a strong arm around my waist tugging me toward shore. He shoved me up on the bank and I lay there, breathing hard.

Jehu grabbed me by my upper arms, pulling me to my feet and shaking me.

“What were you thinking?” he demanded furiously.

“I—I—” I said, gasping for breath, holding him tight.

“You are the most foolish girl I’ve ever met in my entire life!”

“I saved your life!” I shouted. “And I’m tired of being bossed
around by a bunch of men! I’m wet and muddy and I stink and I’m sick of everything!”

“Oh, Jane,” he said, his face softening. “You may be muddy. And you may be wet. And you may smell like a skunk, but you’re still the bravest girl I’ve ever known.”

I held my breath.

He gently moved a wet hunk of hair off my nose and looked into my eyes. “There’s never been a girl quite like you, Jane.”

All I could do was stare at him, stunned.

What did a young lady say to such a pronouncement? What would Miss Hepplewhite recommend in such a situation? Or Mrs. Frink for that matter? Truly what should I do when confronted with a sailor whose eyes had haunted my dreams for so long that I saw them in the blue of the sky after a hard rain … except maybe kiss him?

And that’s just what I did.

Afterward Jehu denied that he had ever been in any danger.

“I saved your life! That bear was definitely going to kill you, just like the grizzly that got Mr. Black,” I said as we walked along the trail, his hand warmly clasping mine. “You didn’t see the look in its eyes.”

“That bear,” Jehu said, tweaking my nose affectionately, “was minding its own business until you threw that rock at him.” He paused importantly, slinging my wet skirt over his shoulder with a slap. “And for the record, I saved you from drowning.”

“You did not! I was doing perfectly fine on my own.”

“Perfectly fine drowning, I’d say,” Jehu guffawed. “I saved your life.”

I looked at his dear face—his laughing eyes, his scarred cheek, his dancing grin—and knew that we were both right.

In the end, we had saved each other.

Hairy Bill had vanished
.

And we soon discovered that our rifle had, too.

“Oh!” I said, stomping my feet in fury, wet and shivering. “How could he leave us unarmed in the wilderness? If I ever see that man again—”

Jehu waved a scrap of hide. “Maybe you will. He left this.”

I looked at the scrap. It said:

IOU ONE RIFLE. H.B
.

I confess, I was astonished that the man could write.

After we spent the better part of the morning huddled in blankets and drying our wet clothes by the fire, Jehu urged me to pack, insisting that we continue on.

“I’ve barely recovered from being mauled by that grizzly bear,” I complained.

“That bear,” he said with a grim look, “wasn’t a grizzly.”

“How do you know?”

He took me by the hand and led me some distance from where we had camped.

“Because
that
is a grizzly,” he said, pointing at a huge, still corpse on the ground.

The dead bear was massive, at least twice as tall as the one that had chased after me, and its head was riddled with bullet holes. I gripped Jehu and leaned forward to get a better look. And then jerked back in shock.

One of its paws had been hacked off.

By midday we spotted a group of people in the distance.

Keer-ukso broke into a grin as he recognized the party. “My friends!”

It was a group of Chehalis Indians, and as it turned out, they were also headed to the rendezvous. Keer-ukso greeted the party happily and immediately disappeared with another young man.

They were very kind and lent us a horse so that Jehu’s leg would have an opportunity to heal. In spite of the warm welcome we received from the tribe, I was feeling very agitated. The closer we came to the rendezvous point, the more nervous I became. What if Mr. Black was already there? It seemed clear he wasn’t a ghost, but I had one nagging worry. Why hadn’t he eaten anything?

I finally gave voice to my fears as we trekked along.

“I cooked him supper, and he didn’t eat a bite. Not even the pie!” I confessed.

Jehu cracked a small grin. “That just makes him a fool, Jane. Not a ghost.”

Far ahead of us, I saw Keer-ukso eyeing a young woman. She seemed not the least bit interested in him, a rather unusual occurrence, considering the moonfaced girls who generally trailed after him.

“Say he is a man, and not a ghost. What do we do then?”

Jehu gazed at me steadily. “We stop him, of course.”

“He has a gun, Jehu. I saw it.”

“I’m sure he does. But so does every other man in the territory. Russell’s no fool. I gave him that letter myself, so he knows this fellow’s coming after him. I’m sure he’s got his ears open. Plus we have an advantage.”

“What?”

He looked around. “How about all these Indians at our back?”

Jehu’s confidence did little to calm my fears.

At dusk we neared the summit of a low hill. Spread out before us was the Chehalis River, and along it an encampment of tents. When I saw the broad, flat expanse of river, I was overcome with despair, berating myself for having lost the canoe.

Jehu must have read the expression on my face for he said, “Don’t feel bad, Jane. It doesn’t connect to the bay. We would have had to walk anyway.”

With a shout, the young men in our party took off at a run, racing to be the first to reach the encampment.

I grinned up at Jehu, bolstered by the men’s good spirits.

“Hyak cooley!”
I gestured wildly to Keer-ukso.

We raced down the hill and dived into the crowd of Indians. Decked out in their best clothes were representatives from tribes all along the southwest portion of the territory. Massive rough-hewn wooden tables were weighted down with food: geese, and deer, and elk, and large bundles of fresh-caught fish. The irresistible smell of biscuits and roasted potatoes made our mouths water as Jehu, Keer-ukso, and I worked our way through the bustling throng.

Here and there were the sounds of angry, raised voices, and the air hummed with the Jargon. Shouting and gunshots punctuated the night. Altogether, it reminded me a great deal of the raucous Fourth of July celebration on Shoalwater Bay, except there was enough food for a month.

I pushed my way through a phalanx of men and saw Mr. Russell deep in conversation with Mr. Swan.

“Mr. Russell!” I shouted.

Mr. Russell looked up in surprise as I flung myself at him.

“My dear?” Mr. Swan said in surprise.

“You’re alive!” I shouted, hugging the mountain man happily. He was alive! Relief washed over me.

“Course I’m alive,” Mr. Russell said, yanking away from me, clearly made uncomfortable by my embrace. “What are ya doing here, gal? Who’s milking Bertie?” Mr. Russell asked in a sharp voice.

“Mr. Black is after you!”

He blinked. “Who?”

“Mr. Abraham Black! He came through the settlement. He’s coming to kill you.”

Jehu shoved forward, Keer-ukso right behind him. “We know all about it. M’Carty told us,” I went on.

“What are you talking about, my dear?” Mr. Swan asked in a curious voice.

“Mr. Black, he wants to kill you,” Keer-ukso added.

“I don’t know anyone called Black,” Mr. Russell said with a shrug.

“Yes, but M’Carty said that Mr. Black was after you, and that he would kill you if he caught you!”

Mr. Swan and Mr. Russell exchanged a glance. “Had M’Carty been”—here Mr. Swan gestured as if tipping a glass—“had M’Carty been imbibing?”

“Yes, but it was just whiskey,” I said, recalling the nearly empty bottle.

“My dear,” Mr. Swan began. “M’Carty has a habit of … how do I say this?” He cleared his throat loudly. “He has a habit of conjuring up tales when he is imbibing whiskey.”

“But he didn’t make it up! I saw Mr. Black!” I insisted.

Mr. Russell didn’t seem the least bit concerned. “Told ya, gal, I don’t know any fella named Black.”

“But you must! We traveled so far and we got caught in the mountains and a bear chased me and I nearly drowned and now you mean to tell me that you don’t even know Mr. Black?” I shouted. I was so vexed I wanted to kill the man myself.

“Yep,” Mr. Russell said in a laconic voice, gray whiskers twitching. He spit a huge wad of tobacco.

“But you were a fur trapper, weren’t you?”

“Yep.”

“And you trapped for the Rocky Mountain Fur Company?”

“Yep.”

“Then you know about the Silencers!”

“Silencers?”

“Yes,” I hissed. “The other men you trapped with! The Silencers.”

Mr. Russell chomped on his tobacco for a moment. “I trapped alone, gal. Didn’t trap with no one else.”

Jehu and Keer-ukso and I shared a skeptical look.

“But M’Carty said—”

“My dear,” Mr. Swan interjected smoothly. “I do believe M’Carty has filled your ears with some very tall tales.” A rifle was fired loudly quite near us and we all flinched. A moment later the distinct sound of a brawl broke out.

“What’s going on here?” Jehu asked.

Mr. Swan looked very harried. “I’m rather afraid the negotiations are not going very well at all. As you can see, there are representatives from all the tribes in the area in attendance. It’s been a rather lengthy affair, as the governor has been obliged to speak the terms of the treaty in English, which are then translated into the Jargon, and then into the individual languages of all the tribes.”