Opening the door, she ran toward the pen, which was fifty yards from the house in a grove of oak saplings. “You dogs get away from—!”
Her words were cut off like a knife, for as she moved closer, a massive form reared upright beside the pen, and she saw the huge hump and fierce beady eyes of an enormous grizzly. For one second she stood paralyzed; then the bear gave a hoarse whuff! and dropped to all fours, lumbering in her direction. She whirled and raced across the yard, breathing a prayer. She dashed inside the house, slamming the door and dropping the sturdy oak bar just as the weight of the bear crashed against it.
She picked up the baby and soothed Timmy, who was wailing. She held her breath, but there was no other attempt on the door, and soon she heard his claws scratch on the small porch as he moved away. She put the baby down and leaped up to the window in time to see the animal loping back toward the pigpen.
She tried to still her racing heart as she heard the sow squeal. The pen was built to hold a large sow, but the powerful grizzly would crumble it like a toothpick with a single swipe of its paw. She had heard Sky and Jim tell about the almost unbelievable strength of the animals, and she knew that the pigs were doomed.
Her eyes fell on the rifle that was over the fireplace, and she ran to get it down. It was a much heavier weapon than the one she’d used the day before, but it was of the same type. She carried the weapon over to the shelf where Sky kept his powder and balls, and awkwardly loaded it. She had no idea how much powder the large rifle required, but poured a steady stream down the muzzle, put a patch in with the rod, then one of the balls, then another patch. With trembling hands she added the flint and moved back to the window just as the squeals of the big pig were cut short. The grizzly had got the mother sow.
She prayed that the beast would carry his prey into the woods, but when she opened the window she could hear the animal grunting as he ate. He’ll go away when he’s finished, she thought. She put the gun down and went to comfort Timmy, who was still sniffling. He held on to her, then was reassured and went toddling off to the bedroom. Rebekah was about to pick Mary up when she heard the faint sound of a horse approaching.
Throwing the door open, she saw Joe riding into the yard. He’ll go to the barn! she realized with horror, and she ran out into the yard, crying as loudly as she could: “Joe! Joe! Don’t go to the barn!”
Her cries frightened his horse, which shied away from her, almost throwing Joe out of the saddle. He lost one rein and was struggling to keep his seat, for the horse had scented the grizzly and was out of control, kicking and whinnying wildly.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rebekah saw something move. Oh no! The grizzly loped into the clearing and headed straight for the horse. “Joe!” she screamed as she whirled and dashed into the house. She snatched the rifle up and bolted outside, holding the weapon awkwardly. Joe had seen the bear, but he clung to the back of the horse, trying to get control.
The bear picked up speed, covering the ground faster than a horse. He plunged straight at the horse, reared up, and lifting one huge paw, struck the animal alongside the head, sending Joe catapulting to the ground. The blow drove the animal’s head to one side and raked bloody furrows through the hide. The grizzly roared, striking the horse again and again on the head and neck, and the animal fell heavily to one side, blood streaming from a dozen deep wounds.
Joe was scrambling to get away when the horse crashed on top of him, pinning his legs. He smelled the rank odor of the bear and saw the bloody claws rip and tear at the dying animal. He could have reached out and touched the huge head as the bear opened his jaws and tore out the throat of the horse in one bite.
Joe lay there with his eyes frozen on the bear, which had straightened up, licking his bloody chops. As the animal moved his head, the beady eyes fixed on him! Joe screamed with fear, and the noise seemed to confuse the grizzly; for he suddenly reared up again, bobbing his head from side to side.
Still clutching the loaded rifle, Rebekah began to walk toward the fallen horse. Joe saw her and cried, “Look out!” struggling wildly to free his legs.
Got to get so close I can’t miss, Rebekah thought, praying with every step, Oh, God, save Joe! Her approach caught the attention of the grizzly, and he moved in a circle, coming at last to face the woman. His eyes were red, the bloodlust strong, but she did not think of danger. All the world seemed shut off—except the monstrous form of the bear now shuffling toward her.
The animal was so large that he cut off the light from the sky, dark and strong and rank, as he loomed over her. She lifted the rifle as he reared, paused for one brief second, then pulled the trigger. The explosion of the rifle was deafening, and the recoil of the weapon so powerful that it drove her backward. She dropped the gun as she fell, and saw that the bear had fallen to the ground as well. Struggling to her feet, she could see the bear’s mighty limbs twitching feebly, but the entire front of his face had been blown away.
She staggered over to Joe, and he reached out to her as she fell beside him. “Ma!” he cried, tears running down his ashen cheeks. He held to her so tightly that she could not get her breath. Over and over he cried, “Ma! Ma!” His body was racked with sobs, his tears mingling with hers. The pressure of his thin arms around her and hearing the name he had called her made Rebekah hold him even more fiercely until finally his sobbing ceased.
When he was quieter she said, “See if you can get your legs out while I push.” With a mighty effort he yanked free and scrambled to his feet, then wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve and stared at the dead grizzly. He reached out and touched her arm hesitantly, and when she looked at him, she saw a look of wonder in his eyes.
“Ma—you done it! He would have killed me for sure! And if you’d missed—he’d have killed you, too!” Then he looked again at the huge animal. “Bet not many women would stand up to a grizzly like that! Most women would have been too scared to come outside—and you let him walk right up to you!”
Rebekah was weak from the ordeal, but she managed a smile and put her arm around Joe’s thin shoulders. “God was with us, wasn’t He, Son?”
The boy felt the warmth of her arm on his shoulders and awkwardly put his arm around her waist, hugging her. “Sure was,” he nodded, and said again loudly, “He sure was, Ma!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A DEAD WOMAN’S HAND
“ . . . an’ then that big ol’ grizzly reared up, Pa, and he was so big I couldn’t even see Ma—but she let fly with that rifle gun and just plain ol’ blew that bear’s head off!”
Sky leaned over and set another three-foot-thick section of the oak tree on end, thinking: Now he calls her his ma like he’s been doing it all his life. He lifted the splitting maul and struck; the two sections fell as splinterless as a cloven rock. Joe scooted forward and pulled one section upright, and Sky said, “Guess she saved your bacon, Son.”
Joe’s dark eyes glowed, and he nodded vigorously. “You’re mighty right, she did!” With that, he launched into yet another detailed account of the adventure with the bear, lauding Rebekah to the skies.
Sky had heard the story at least ten times since he had ridden in that morning, but he let the boy speak, glad that the wall he had raised against Rebekah had at last been broken down. He had ridden in to find Joe trying to skin the bear, and making a pretty bad mess of the job. Seeing his father, Joe had run to him, telling the tale so excitedly that at first Sky could not understand what had happened. “What happened, Rebekah?” he had asked.
“Oh, the bear came for the pigs, and I shot it,” she had answered.
“Aw, c’mon, Ma!” Joe had cried, “let me tell about it!” Sky had immediately noticed the word that now came so easily to the boy’s lips. Ma. By the time Sky had the story straight, he saw that Rebekah had earned a place in the boy’s heart.
He and Joe worked all morning, dragging the dead horse to a gully to be burned, skinning and dressing the bear, repairing the pigpen, and searching for the piglets that had
escaped. Carrying one of the little pigs back, Sky found Rebekah standing by the pen, looking down at the two they had already located. “Sorry about Maybelle, Rebekah,” he said, putting the squealing pig into the pen. “I’ll get you another one from Taylor.”
“All right.”
Sky noticed her lack of enthusiasm and tried to cheer her up. “You did fine—killing that bear. Joe thinks you’re just about the best thing going.” She shrugged and walked away from the pen. Her attitude was beginning to frustrate Winslow. He knew that his remark to O’Malley had hurt Rebekah, and he wanted more than ever to make it up to her. With a sigh, he ran to catch up with her and fell into step as she was nearing the house.
Carefully he tested out the waters. “I’m grateful to you, Rebekah. You saved Joe’s life.”
“Anyone would have done it.”
“No, that’s not right. You did a very brave thing.” He took her arm, and she turned to face him—reluctantly, he thought. “You risked your life for Joe. It would have been hard for an experienced hunter to walk up to a grizzly like that—and for a woman who’s not had much experience with a gun, why, it’s—”
“I’d rather not talk about it, Sky.” She pulled away from him, saying, “I’d better get to work.”
Helplessly he watched her go into the house, shutting the door behind her. Winslow slapped his hands together in an angry gesture. Why is it I can never say the right thing to her? he asked himself, turning to go back to find Joe. She’s changed, I reckon—or maybe it’s me that’s done the changing.
All day as he worked around the place, the sense of frustration grew, and Joe’s enthusiasm only aggravated him. At supper he ate silently, listening as Joe kept up a running conversation with Rebekah. Afterward, when the two put their heads together over a book, he felt left out, so Sky played with Timmy until the little fellow grew sleepy. Putting the boy down, he picked Mary up and rocked her, admiring the creamy complexion and bright eyes. Finally she grew fussy, and Rebekah rose from the table and came over to him. “I’ll take her now.”
“I don’t mind keepin’ her while you two study,” he said.
“We’re finished—and she’s hungry.”
“Guess I can’t help with that,” he said, handing her over. Soon Timmy went to bed, and the house was quiet, so he took up the book Rebekah had given him at Christmas. He had already read The Journal of Gilbert Winslow through several times, and had found the account fascinating, but a restlessness filled him and caused his attention to wander. Letting the book fall on his lap, Sky glanced over to where Joe was working torturously at his lesson. On the other side of the room, Rebekah nursed the baby, and he wondered how the scene would appear to a stranger who knew nothing of their situation or the tension that existed between them. Guess we’d look pretty good, he thought ruefully. Man and his wife. Children all healthy and happy. Plenty to eat. It would all look almost perfect, I guess, to most folks.
Rebekah lifted her eyes from the baby and looked across the room at him. Caught off guard staring at her, he flushed and got up. “Guess I better go check the pigpen—see if it’ll keep those little fellows up tight,” he said. He waited for Joe to ask to go with him, which was his custom, but the boy was scribbling furiously on his tablet, so Sky left the house.
The air was crisp, and overhead the stars glittered coldly in the sky. The pigs began squealing as he came close, and he murmured, “Reckon you miss your mama, don’t you?” He leaned over and rubbed their wet snouts as they nudged each other to get at him, nibbling at his fingers hungrily. His thoughts went over the past months, but there was no pleasure in thinking of such things, so he straightened abruptly and moved away from the pigpen, walking across to the path that led through the woods. The tall firs shut off the starlight, but he groped his way through the woods to the small stream that surrounded the house like the crook of an elbow, and came at last to the deep pool where he and Joe had often come to catch the thumping red-ear sun perch that nested underneath a huge fallen log.
Sitting down on the log, he listened to the night sounds and smelled the odors of the woods that crowded in on the house. The peaceful quality of the woods relieved the strife that marked his life in the busy world, and for nearly an hour he absently toyed with a stick, keeping his mind away from the problems that awaited him at home.
Later, he rose and tossed the stick into the stream, watching as something nudged at it—a big bass, he thought, or a snapping turtle. He wrenched his mind away from the peace of the woods to thoughts of Rebekah and their future. He was reminded of a passage from The Journal of Gilbert Winslow which he had read so often that he could remember it almost word-for-word. The brief passage had been written by Gilbert Winslow concerning his bride, Humility, shortly after their marriage at Plymouth:
It is late, and Humility is abed as I write this. We have been man and wife three months tomorrow. After so short a time, we should be blissfully happy, but my heart is grieved tonight, for at supper we quarreled—our first quarrel since we married. It was a little thing (if any quarrel between two who love can be little!) and I spoke to her harshly. Her sweet face, so joyful these last months, grew pale, and her lips trembled. She said naught, but rose and left the table, and went to bed soon after.
Now I sit here, the biggest fool in Plymouth! With a wife fit to stand beside any man, I let my accursed tongue say words that cut and burned! For two hours I have tried to find the courage to tell her what a fool I was—but cannot do it. I can face death in a duel or in battle, but I cannot bring myself to say the simple words—I am sorry!
By heaven, I will do it yet, though the words choke me! Shall I be cut off from all that is sweet in this world to me because of my pride? Like the prodigal son, “I will arise and go!”
Sky thought of the next line with a smile. The brief note was poignant; from it he had learned that Gilbert Winslow was a lover as well as a fighter:
It is early morning. I have swallowed my pride—and my Humility received me with open arms—quite literally! We are newly married, praise the Lord!
Why should I be cut off from all that is sweet in this world because of my pride? Winslow rose and walked back down the path determined to speak to Rebekah, to tell her he’d been a pig-headed fool. Just how he would manage to say it was beyond him, but the thought of the sweetness he’d known in her on the trail was strong. I’ll just say it right out! It won’t kill me to say I’ve been wrong.
But he got no chance to make the speech that night, for when he entered the house, he found that she had gone to bed. Joe looked up from the table, yawning. “Ma said she was a little tired.” He got up, stretched and said, “You ’bout ready for bed, Pa?”
“Sure.”
The two of them went upstairs, and after they were in bed, Sky said, “I was glad to hear you call Rebekah your ma, Joe. It’s what I wanted for you to have.”
Joe’s voice was a little awkward as he replied, “Aw, she’s sure something, Pa, ain’t she?”
“Sure is.”
There was a moment of silence.
“Pa?”
“Yes, Joe?”
“You reckon—?”
When the boy broke off, Sky rolled over and looked across the room. The moon had come out and he could see Joe’s face faintly. “Do I reckon what?” he prodded gently.
“Do you reckon you’ll ever—ever love her? I mean, like a real husband?”
Sky lay there, knowing what the boy was asking. After a long silence, he said quietly, “I reckon you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Joe?”
“Sure would!”
“Well—I guess I would, too,” Sky admitted. Neither of them spoke again, but a determination formed in Winslow’s mind.
Maybe she won’t want me as a “real” husband—but I’m blamed well going to give it a try!
In the morning he rose and went downstairs determined to speak with Rebekah alone, but his plans were spoiled at breakfast when a cloudburst produced a heavy rain that did not let up until
nearly ten. Joe sat down to read a book, while Timmy followed Sky all over the house, clamoring for attention, and Mary cried incessantly, cutting a new tooth. Seeing that there was not likely to be any privacy for a while, Sky left to do the chores.
When he came back at noon, Joe asked, “Pa, can I go squirrel hunting after we eat?”
“I guess so,” Sky nodded as they sat down to the dinner of bear steak. Joe bolted his food, then grabbed his rifle and disappeared into the woods. After dinner Sky pushed back his chair, saying, “Bear steak’s not as good as buff’lo, but it’s nice for a change.”
“It’s too strong for me,” Rebekah said. She started clearing the table, but Mary began to cry.
“I’ll do this,” Sky offered, picking up his plate. “You see if you can get Mary to sleep.”
She looked at him in surprise. “That would be a help.”
As she rocked the baby, Sky washed the dishes, noting that the stepping stool that Rebekah used in the kitchen was broken, tilted on three legs against the wall. Guess I have time to fix it for her ’fore the kids fall down, he thought. Maybe that’ll sweeten her up a little.
Hoisting the broken stool, Sky went outside, calling over his shoulder, “Be right back, Rebekah.” Moving to the barn, Winslow settled at his workbench and began to hammer busily, so intent on his work and the thought of what he would say to Rebekah when he got back that he did not hear the sound of O’Malley’s horse approaching.
Pulling up to the house, O’Malley dismounted, tied his horse to the rail, and stepped up on the porch.
The Reluctant Bridegroom Page 28
