Bride of the Wild

by Carré White

“We’re going to be fine, Amelia. It’s going to be fine.” But I had lied, because I doubted those words. I gazed at Micah, who dabbed his head with the end of his shirt. “It might not be able to open the door. It’s a small handle. A creature that size doesn’t have the fingers for it.”

  “Perhaps.”

  He seemed traumatized, his eyes staring at nothing in particular, his fingers trembling around the weapon. I inched closer to him. “Are you all right? Are you wounded badly?” Had he been knocked in the head? “Are you dizzy?”

  “I went up to see what happened. I found Lucy in a bedroom. The bear climbed one of your trees and entered through a window. There’s glass everywhere. I … ” he closed his eyes, “found Deer Runner shortly after. He had fired at it, but it hadn’t stopped it.”

  “Poor Lucy,” I uttered, feeling the need to cry, but now wasn’t the time. “How did you escape?”

  “I was lucky. I can’t even say it was skill. I happened to be on the right end of the hallway. I shot at the thing, several times. I thought it would go down, but it didn’t. It possessed some sort of unnatural power, Saffron. It did not behave the way most bears do. I know some enter homes to find food, but this one was bent on killing.”

  An enormous thud occurred above us. I glanced up. “Oh, gracious be! Here it comes.” I waited for the door in the ceiling to open, holding my breath, but nothing occurred.

  Micah struggled to his feet, grasping at the ladder and moving it away. “If it wants us, it’ll have to fall in.” He stared at the ceiling, waiting for something to happen.

  “Maybe it finally died,” said Amelia dully. “You said you shot it. Maybe it passed on.” She muttered, “My prayers might indeed be answered.”

  “I don’t want to find out right now.” I took a step back, glancing around the dusty room. Shelves stood against the walls filled with things pa did not want to give away, but they weren’t needed in the house. “I’m waiting.” I sat on the dirt floor, heedless of anything other than the steady beating of my heart, as waves of anxiety crashed over me. “I can’t believe they’re gone.” Tears threatened again. The strength it took to keep them at bay had weakened me.

  Micah approached, kneeling. “You can cry, Saffron. You’ve been very brave. You’ve every right to mourn. I might join you.” His arm went around my back. “What a hellish night. I hope those fools in town are happy now. While they made such a show of baiting the bear, it wandered freely, attacking innocent people.”

  “You were right. You said it wouldn’t work.” I glanced at him. “You’re bleeding dreadfully. What happened to your forehead?”

  “It slashed at me.” I reached out to touch him, wanting to examine the wound, but he stopped my hand. “I’m fine. You needn’t make a fuss.”

  “But if it’s rabid, won’t you get ill?”

  “Not from the claw. He never bit me.”

  “It’s very quiet,” said Amelia. “How long do we wait before we go up? I don’t think it’s going to attack us. I think you killed it.”

  “We wait for a while.” Micah wiped his forehead on his sleeve again.

  “I really should look at that. It’s probably deep. It might require a needle and thread.”

  “Head wounds bleed profusely. It’s a small gash.” With only one lantern, most of the room remained in shadow, the smell musty with a hint of mold. “I’ll live, but others won’t.”

  I sensed his sorrow. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not a bad shot. I’ve hunted for years. I just never … I never saw anything like that. The strength it had took my breath away. The violence of its actions were uncharacteristic of the species. It truly was possessed.”

  “It’s more than likely dead now,” I said softly. “You did kill it. You succeeded, Micah.”

  “But not before two people died.”

  Grasping the end of my dress, I patted his forehead, pressing into the skin there in hopes of stemming the flow of blood. “Many have died, but it’s over now. If that thump was the body falling to the floor, then we have nothing more to worry about. The town will declare you a hero, Micah. Two might’ve perished, and it’s dreadful, but we’re alive. You saved us.”

  “You needn’t ruin your dress on me.”

  “It’s nothing cold water can’t fix.” I smiled at him, feeling a measure of gratitude for his sacrifice. Our town would be safe now. The ordeal had come to an end. We would grieve the loss of those we loved, but we could all sleep again at night. “Thank goodness you and Deer Runner were here. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.”

  He said nothing, keeping his head down, while I wiped the blood away. Some time later, he glanced at me. “I think we might go up now.”

  I nodded, feeling a twinge of apprehension. “Yes.”

  “I’ll go. I’ll make sure it’s clear.” He reached for my weapon. “I better take this.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “If I don’t come back. I’m dead.”

  Chapter Eight

  Micah left us, and we waited, listening to every sound, worrying he would not return, but he did, peering in from above. “It’s dead,” he said tonelessly. From the stark look on his face, he had sunk into despair, as had I, knowing Lucy and Deer Runner had not survived.

  “All right.” I glanced at Amelia, who stared wide-eyed. “We can go up.”

  “Do I even want to go? I don’t think I can look at them. I can’t do this.”

  My arm went around her shoulders. “You can. You have the strength to face it. If I can do it, so can you.”

  “This is worse than when we came here. It’s worse than the wagon attack.”

  She never talked about what had happened, nor did I, wishing to forget the atrocities we had witnessed. “We survived it. We can face whatever’s in the house. It’s dead. We’re alive. That’s all that matters. Micah killed the bear. He’s saved the town from further attacks. We must think of all the good things that will come now.”

  Her arm went around my neck. “I’m grateful for that, but how can I look upon Lucy? I can’t do it.”

  “I’ll see to her. You needn’t worry about a thing. I want you to climb that ladder, Amelia. When you reach the kitchen, put the kettle on. Make us tea. Can you do that?”

  She sniffled, as tears fell down her cheeks. “Yes. I’ll make tea.”

  “Thank you.” I led her to the ladder, holding up the lantern. “Now, go.” Micah waited above us, staring down blankly. “She’s coming.”

  He held out a hand. “It’s safe now. It won’t harm anyone ever again.”

  Amelia climbed steadily, disappearing from sight a moment later. I grasped the lantern in one hand and the ladder in the other, my feet tripping over the bottom of my dress. I joined them in the kitchen a moment later. Micah lowered the door in the floor, covering it with the rug and table, while I stared at the prone form of the bear only a few feet away. Blood pooled beneath its furry, smelly body. It wasn’t as large as I thought it would be, no older than a youth.

  “It’s a girl bear?”

  Micah nodded. “Yes.”

  Its belly did not move, nothing moved. “It’s truly dead?”

  “It sounded so much bigger,” murmured Amelia, verbalizing my thoughts. “This was responsible for all the deaths?”

  “It was vicious,” said Micah. “Unnaturally vicious and fast. It’s diseased. I’ll drag it outside in a moment, but I want to go upstairs. Maybe … I’m hoping that maybe … there’s a sign of life.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, chiding myself for the oversight. “I’ll join you. Let’s go, Micah. Let’s hurry. Maybe we can help them.”

  He nodded. “All right.”

  Amelia remained in the kitchen, gingerly stepping around the dead animal. She put the kettle on, while Micah and I took to the stairs, finding blood streaked on the floor and walls. What waited for us on the upper level was nothing short of horrifying. Bullet holes spotted the walls and furniture had been smashed, while blood pooled in
places, but this wasn’t from the bear.

  I gazed at Lucy, who had been mauled rather severely, blood soaking her dress. “Oh, my Lord,” I cried, dropping to my knees and holding my face in my hands. I could not stop the sobs that tore through me. Her ashen features and frozen eyes were difficult to look upon. Micah’s hands grasped my shoulders, and I turned into him, burying my face in his chest. “We should’ve boarded these windows,” I sobbed. “I forgot about the tree. Of course bears climb trees … and this one did. Poor Lucy. I can’t believe it … it’s too awful. She died in our home.”

  He uttered something in a language I didn’t understand, the words low and hoarse. “I’ll find a blanket to cover her with. The undertaker will come tomorrow.” Brushing my forehead with his lips, he moved from me, slowly getting to his feet. I felt wetness on my face, knowing he had left blood. “I’ll see to Deer Runner.”

  A blanket drifted over Lucy’s body, hiding her from my sight. I sat there for some time, numb and alone, not knowing what to do. I began to whisper. “‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through the fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you,’” I murmured, quoting Isaiah 43:2. “I’ll miss you terribly, Lucy. You’re with God now, but far too soon. How dreadful to have you gone.” Tears blurred my vision. I glanced over my shoulder at Micah.

  “We sleep downstairs tonight.” He held out his hand. “Come along, Saffron. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

  I got to my feet, feeling lightheaded. “I know.” I grasped a lamp someone had left on a nightstand. It was a miracle it hadn’t toppled over during the fight and caught fire. “I should say something for Deer Runner.”

  “If you want, or I can.”

  “That might be good.” Micah escorted me into the other room, where he had placed a blanket over the Indian, but his boots stuck out at the bottom. Then he knelt beside the man and spoke in the Arapaho language. “What did you say?” I asked after he finished.

  “A prayer to send him on his way to heaven.”

  “Thank you, Micah. Amen.”

  He nodded gravely. “This has been a sad day.”

  “Indeed. Did he have family? A wife? Children?”

  “His wife died of smallpox a few years ago. They hadn’t been married very long, so they didn’t have children. He mentioned a woman he’d been seeing in town, but I’m not certain they were serious. I can’t recall her name.”

  “Word will get out, and those who need to know will hear about it.”

  “Let’s go down.” He looked uneasy. “We shouldn’t linger here.”

  Amelia had made tea, and, while I sat at the table and drank, Micah dragged the bear from the room, tossing it down the steps outside. Then he used a bucket of water to wash away the blood, although it had seeped through the cracks in the floor in places, but there was nothing that could be done about it. It would require a thorough scrubbing at a later date. When he had finished, he joined us for tea, looking weary and pale. I placed my hand over his, which startled him.

  “Thank you.”

  He squeezed my fingers, sighing. “It’s over now. We’ll wait until morning. Your father and brother will return then. Or I could go to town, if you wish, and get them now.”

  “No, you’ve done enough. It’s nothing that can’t wait until morning.”

  “I’ll bring blankets and pillows down,” said Amelia. “We’ll try to get some sleep. Do you think we can use the privy now? The bear’s dead, after all.”

  “I don’t see why not.” The strong, rough hand felt reassuring, and I had forgotten I held it, but my sister noted this, staring at me peculiarly. I sat straighter, folding my hands in my lap. I eyed Micah’s forehead. “You’re a sight. That wound needs to be stitched. It’s still bleeding.”

  “Do what you must.” He leaned into the chair, looking defeated and tired.

  “I’m going out,” said Amelia, stepping through the splintered kitchen door.

  “I’ll find my sewing kit.” I got to my feet, hurrying for the stairs, although I dreaded having to see Lucy again.

  It wasn’t long before I stitched together the jagged tear near Micah’s hairline and wrapped his head with gauze. After Amelia returned, we settled in the parlor, my sister taking the sofa, while Micah and I slept on the carpet. It wasn’t as comfortable as a bed, but with pillows and blankets, we would make due. I lay staring at the ceiling for long minutes, while listening to my mother’s clock ticking in pa’s study. I turned then, facing Micah, thinking he had gone to sleep, but his eyes were on me.

  “Will you sleep?” I whispered, as Amelia’s soft snores filled the room.

  “I will.”

  “I might need some brandy. I can’t stop thinking about what happened.” We spoke in hushed tones, not wanting to disturb Amelia.

  “Where’s the brandy?”

  “Over there.” I tossed the blanket aside, scrambling to my feet. “Pa saved it for special occasions.” Opening the door to the china cabinet, I grasped a darkly colored bottle. When I returned to the makeshift bed, I yanked out the stopper, lifting the bottle to my mouth. “Do you mind sharing? I don’t want to bother with a glass.”

  “I don’t care.” He eyed me, as I took a sip, the liquid burning a path all the way into my belly.

  I handed him the bottle. “Oh, that’s potent. Here.”

  He took a swig. “Thank you.”

  “I can’t remember ever being so frightened. Well, that’s not entirely true. We were attacked on the wagon train years ago, but even that wasn’t as awful as this. Or maybe it was.” I reached for the bottle, having a small sip.

  “What happened?”

  “It's not something I talk about very often.”

  “I’ve heard stories. I’ve seen things myself. I was a wagon train guide. Cholera struck us rather badly. Fourteen people died.”

  “Then you’ve seen it too.”

  “Seen what?”

  “Fear. Death. Sorrow.”

  “You can’t escape it, Saffron. It’s a part of life.”

  “I know, but I can’t help wondering if we had stayed east, we might not have seen so much of it.”

  “That’s the risk of coming here. Some travelers arrive without incident. It’s only the ones with troubles we hear about. Those are the stories the newspapers print. It’s always the bad news that’s interesting, unfortunately.”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened on your trip?”

  I needed another sip of brandy for this. I had begun to feel warm and languid, the strain easing from my shoulders. “We weren’t far out of Fort Kearny when we spotted the first burnt wagon. Several miles later, we found the bodies. A family going it alone had been set upon by Indians. They’d all been scalped and the women … ” I shuddered, “were, well. You know what happened to them.”

  “I’ve heard about things like that.”

  Needing more brandy, I took another sip, handing the bottle to him. “There were maybe thirty wagons in our train. The wagon master warned us to expect trouble, and we kept our weapons handy. It rained that afternoon, making the road a muddy, disgusting mess. The thunder upset the horses, and they were difficult to manage, but the oxen took it in stride. They’re remarkably hardy animals.”

  “They are.” He’d settled in next to me, cradling his head in the palm of his hand. It being dark in the room, I could barely see his face, but I sensed his undivided attention.

  “Our wagon was towards the end of the line, and we had fallen behind because someone had gotten stuck in the mud. We didn’t think much of it, until we heard shouting. Pa told us to hide in the back, and we did so. We were younger then. Tom was only eight. Amelia was ten. I had just turned twelve. We waited patiently, expecting to be on our way shortly. It wasn’t long before the first shot rang out.”

  “You must’ve been terrified.”

  “We had been warned about the Indians. They’d
been attacking wagon trains all summer. We’d seen burned out wagons for miles. We knew trouble would find us, but we thought our group was too large for them to bother. Everyone was armed to the teeth as well. I had my own rifle. I wasn’t as good a shot as I am now, but I could manage.”

  “You’re very brave, Saffron.”

  “I was utterly terrified. Everything about that trip frightened me. I wasn’t used to seeing open spaces for miles and miles without a hint of civilization. We had left everything familiar behind, including our families and friends. If something had happened, I’d never have seen any of them again. I suppose it didn’t matter anyhow, because my grandparents had disowned us.” I took a sip of brandy, feeling warm and tingly.

  “I’ll take that.” He reached for the bottle. “You’ve had enough to see you to sleep.”

  “I suppose. I could drink every last drop, though.”

  “That worries me,” he chortled. “You’ve had a dreadful day. We’ve gone through trauma. It’ll be better in the morning.”

  I settled in, snuggling into the blanket. “Do you want to hear what happened still?”

  “I do.”

  “I’ll never forget their war whoops and screeches. It curdled the blood. I remember arrows piercing the tarp on our wagon. Tom and Amelia and I huddled together behind a wooden crate, praying with all our might they’d leave us be. Women screamed and babies cried. Ma screamed too. Then she crawled to where we were, putting her arms over us. It sounded like they were everywhere, the war whoops coming from all directions. I remember looking out the back at one point and seeing an Indian being shot on his horse. He fell to the ground. It gladdened me that he’d died, but then I felt guilty, because it’s wrong to wish someone dead.”

  “Not if they mean to harm you.”

  “They did mean to harm us and worse. I knew what they’d do to the women, if we didn’t stop them. That worried me the most, Micah. I couldn’t bear to think of being hurt like that.” He stared at me, because I could feel his attention. “The wagon master must have realized our predicament, because men came bounding over from the front. They shot at the Indians, and the skirmish ended shortly after.” I shivered then, remembering what had happened next. “But, it was too late for some of the settlers; the family in the wagon before us died. They … ” I swallowed the lump in my throat, “took the daughter. They kidnapped her before we could stop them.”