by Rod O'Grady
‘What…?’ He stepped closer. He peered closely. ‘That’s…’
‘Oh, my, what is that, Dan? It looks like a, what, a…?’
He looked up the trail, and around. He then put his boot next to the footprint. The print was much bigger than his boot. He crouched down and looked at it really closely.
Minnie stood up and moved up the trail. ‘Here’s another one, Dan.’
He joined her. Together they slowly stepped up the trail scanning the ground for more. ‘Here. And look, Dan, this is the right foot again. That’s a big stride, huh?’
Dan took his phone out of his pocket. He photographed all the prints, up real close, putting his boot next to them for reference.
‘In this one I can see dermal ridges,’ said Dan, crouching low to the ground.
‘What’s dermal ridges?’
‘All the little swirls and whorls on your fingers and palm. And creases and lines.’ Dan then looked down the trail. ‘Just these four. Must have come out of the brush down there, walked up here and cut into the brush up there.’
‘So who or what made these footprints, Dan?’ I know, she thought, but I need to hear you say it.
‘Dunno,’ he said.
‘Don’t know? You don’t know? Bigfoot! A Bigfoot made them!’ She stood in front of him and looked him in the eye. ‘Bigfoot, also known as Sasquatch, made these footprints, Dan.’
‘We don’t know that,’ he said, still gazing down at the prints. ‘Could be fake.’
‘Fake? How, Dan? How can they be fake?’
‘A guy steps there then raises his foot and steps on his own print again to make it bigger and so, it looks like that.’
‘What guy?’ she asked.
‘Hunter, hiker, logger, boy scout…’ he said.
‘No. That’s not what happened: it’s not hunting season, there’s no logging here, since the fire there’s been no hikers and certainly no boy scouts!’ said Minnie.
‘You don’t know that with absolute certainty,’ said Dan.
‘Why would someone do that, Dan? Up here? Up this little biddy trail I just found? Huh? Why? On the off-chance that someone would come along and it would blow their mind? You think he’s hiding behind a tree now laughing at how he’s fooled us? Maybe he’s been waiting up here near his phony fake footprints for days, waiting for someone to come along! Yes, yes, that’s what happened! Someone faked them! Dan, please!’
She walked on up the trail, then stopped and turned. ‘If you’re so sure they are fake, why did you take a ton load of photos then? You know they are real and you just can’t handle it!’ She stomped on up the path, really frustrated.
‘Wait, Minnie, wait for me, darn it!’
‘Scared of the Bigfoot, Dan?’ She kept on walking. ‘If they’re fake, why are you holding your gun like that?’ Dan held his rifle at the ready, finger near the trigger.
‘Let me go in front,’ he said, passing her.
‘Oh, to protect me? From what, Dan? There aren’t any Bigfoots up here, are there?’
They hiked on in silence, Dan scanning left and right. ‘Don’t worry, Dan, they’re mostly nocturnal.’
They walked up the trail looking on the forest floor for more prints, but Dan was really twitchy. The slightest sound in the forest like a squirrel chattering or a bird whistling would make him swing the rifle round towards the source of the noise. It was unnerving to Minnie and she said, ‘OK, this hike is officially over. Why don’t we head back?’
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘Because you keep pointing your gun at things and that is not relaxing!’
Dan looked at her and said, ‘I’m perfectly fine to continue looking for an oompah loompah or whatever you think is up here, but if you want to turn back … fine.’
Thunk! A pinecone hit Dan on the shoulder. It dropped to the ground beside them. They looked at the pinecone, looked at each other…
‘It came from over there.’ Minnie pointed to bushes about twenty yards away.
‘Must have been a squirrel,’ said Dan.
‘It wasn’t dropped! It was thrown!’ Minnie said.
They both stood perfectly still and silent, listening, watching the bushes.
Finally Dan whispered, ‘Squirrel. Tree rat. Must’ve been.’ He looked around, his rifle held ready at his hip.
‘A squirrel with a bionic right arm,’ said Minnie.
‘Shush!’
‘Why are you shushing me, Dan?’
‘I’m trying to listen.’ They both stood stock still, listening for any noise, looking for any movement.
‘Billy? I know you’re over there!’ Dan said, staring into the bushes where the pinecone came from.
‘Shush!’ said Minnie.
‘Why are you shushing me?’ asked Dan.
‘I don’t know. I’m scared,’ she said. ‘You’re being too loud…’
‘I have this,’ he said, as he raised the rifle to his shoulder.
‘I feel like we should quietly…’ she started to say.
‘Retreat. I agree,’ said Dan. ‘We could start heading back if you want.’
‘Fine,’ said Minnie.
‘Good,’ said Dan.
They hurried back down the trail, away from the bushes from where the pinecone was thrown, through the scrubby underbrush, and didn’t slacken their pace until they reached the main hiking trail.
‘Phew! That was freaky, right, Dan? Having a pinecone thrown at you by an actual Bigfoot! You should count yourself lucky!’ Dan ignored her and kept marching down the hill. ‘Wow, and those prints, Dan! Pinecones, prints! What a day! Wow! I just realised I talk a lot when I’m frightened!’
‘Minnie, there’s no such thing as Bigfoot. There’s one fuzzy film from the 1960s of a big guy in a monkey suit. That’s it.’
‘That wasn’t a guy in a monkey suit … they proved it can’t be.’
‘And some Yeti footprints in the snow in Nepal!’ he said.
‘It was Tibet, Dan, and Native Americans have handed down stories of encounters with giant hairy men in the woods for, like, ever!’
‘There’s no evidence,’ he said.
‘Footprints!’ she yelled.
‘Faked,’ he said.
‘They’ve recorded tracks miles long!’ she said.
‘So?’
‘In mud! In winter! With a really long stride length! How did they fake that? When we get back I’ll show you. There’s video of a three-mile trackway. In the snow, Dan. In the middle of nowhere!’ They were in sight of the cabins now.
‘There’s no scientific proof, Minnie. A body! We need a body!’ He said, quite angrily.
‘Do the research, Dan, and then we can have a discussion!’
‘Oh please!’ he said, kicking a small rock off the path as he charged on ahead.
Chapter Six
Minnie and Dan emerged from the trail behind Connie and Billy’s cabin. Musto bounded over to them, his feathery yellow tail swooshing, followed by Billy who breathlessly blurted out, ‘Did you see…?’
‘Bigfoot prints, Billy? No, we did not, as there is no such thing as Bigfoot according to my field guide here.’
Dan eyed Billy suspiciously.
‘What have you been doing this morning, Billy?’ asked Dan.
‘Oh, nothing much. Mom’s got something for you, Dan,’ said Billy.
‘Well, that was a lousy hike,’ muttered Minnie walking away down the track towards her home.
‘I heard that,’ said Dan as he walked away towards Connie’s cabin.
‘What happened?’ asked Billy, falling in step with Minnie.
‘Come on, I’ll tell ya.’ They ran down the slope, but just then the aroma of apple pie, carried by the breeze, hit Minnie. ‘Pie!’ She stopped as Billy ran on ahead, and following her nose she headed straight back towards Connie’s cabin.
Dan and Connie sat on chairs on the deck of the cabin whilst Minnie stood below the deck out of sight and listened in to their conversation. She wanted to hear
Dan share with Connie what he thought they’d found.
‘Say Connie, has Billy been here this whole time?’ asked Dan.
‘What, where, here? Yes, why?’
‘Oh, no reason. We found something up there,’ said Dan.
On the low wooden table between them was a perfect apple pie, with three small ceramic blackbirds sticking their heads through the pastry.
‘What are those?’ Dan asked.
Standing on the tips of her toes, Minnie peeped over the edge of the deck.
‘Bird vents. Like pie chimneys to let the steam out, so I have perfect crusty pastry.’
‘Oh, right.’
The smell of the freshly baked apple pie was making Minnie’s mouth water. Crouching down, she dumped her backpack and took a gulp from her bottle.
‘Dan, before you tell me what you found, I’ve been meaning to talk about, well … you know it’s real important to talk, and, well … it’s just you and Minnie down there and…’
‘We’re doing fine, Connie,’ said Dan.
‘Are you? She’s a twelve-year-old girl who just lost her mom, and she and you…’
‘We’re OK, Connie.’
‘No, darn it, I’m gonna say it. When you met Georgina, you had no notion that within two years she’d be gone and you’d be stuck with her kid.’
‘Connie…’
‘It’s a lot to ask of a man. You and Minnie are clearly not that close. It would be understandable if you wanted to move on. It would, Dan.’
Minnie leant her head against the deck’s corner support post, worried now about what she’d hear next, and wishing she wasn’t eavesdropping but was with Billy by the shore looking in rock pools, or just lying on the grass in the sun with Musto.
‘I do not want to move on,’ said Dan. ‘I can’t.’
Connie looked at him for a few moments.
‘Piece of pie? This is for you both, but we could eat a slice if you liked. It’s a fine pie, if I say so myself, with just a dash of cinnamon and ginger in there.’
Minnie heard the cake knife on the plate as Connie cut a piece of pie and continued with, ‘We love Minnie. Minnie could live with us…’
‘I promised Georgie I would care for Minnie until she’s eighteen,’ said Dan, ‘and old enough to sell this place if she wants to. And I’m gonna do that.’
‘Out of a sense of duty or because you love and care for that child?’ Hearing all this was excruciating for Minnie and she screwed up her face and softly bumped her head against the post. Connie said, ‘She should still be talking to that therapist about her feelings, to help her process her grief and…’
‘Minnie decided she didn’t need to see the therapist any more,’ Dan said firmly.
‘She’s twelve, Dan.’
Minnie stood on her tiptoes again, her curly hair, forehead and brown eyes partly obscured by the wooden deck rail, thinking she might just have to cough or scream to stop this torture.
‘A real smart twelve,’ Dan said, as he looked out at the bay, the islands, the hazy hills on the far side. ‘So much like her mom… She knows what she wants and what she likes, and it’s not living here with me!’
‘Dan! How can you know that? Her mother recently passed and she’s trying to deal with that! You two both have to try harder. You are the grown-up, Dan, not her! So…’ Connie pulled the plate with the pie towards her and lifted the knife. ‘You need to try harder.’
Dan remained silent. As she cut another slice of pie Connie asked, ‘So, what did you find in the forest?’
Dan looked back up at the mountain, squinting in the sunlight. He tugged the peak of his cap down to shade his eyes.
‘Ah, well, it doesn’t matter,’ he mumbled.
Minnie couldn’t contain herself and yelled, ‘It does matter!’
Dan stood up. ‘Minnie!’
‘She heard us, Dan. Every word.’
‘I know. I’ll go after her,’ he said, putting down his plate. ‘We found prints, Connie. Footprints.’ He held his hands out, palms facing each other, indicating the length of the prints. ‘Yay big.’
Connie’s forkful of pie hovered an inch from her open mouth.
‘Oh. Good,’ she said. ‘They’re back.’
‘Where did she go?’ Dan ran down the steps. ‘Minnie! Wait!’
Minnie had crawled in under Connie’s deck and, with tears streaming down her cheeks, she watched Dan run off down the track.
Connie heard Minnie’s sniffling. ‘Minnie?’ Minnie crawled out from under the deck, wiping the tears and snot away with the sleeve of her shirt.
‘Oh Minnie, come here.’ Connie enveloped the sobbing girl in her arms. The sweet woody smell of the frankincense resin that she always burned in the cabin, clinging to the wool of the soft cashmere cardigan, took Minnie instantly back to the small wooden church in town where they’d had the memorial service for her mother. She realised in that instant that the two smells were the same – the church and Connie’s cabin.
She sobbed without stint, her whole body heaving with despair. ‘Let it out, darling girl, let it out,’ Connie whispered as she held her tight. And she did. She let it out. As the waves of anguish slowly began to recede, Minnie allowed herself to believe that she was being comforted by an actual Angel of Kindness, because Connie was surely the second-kindest person she’d ever known.
‘I don’t want to live here anymore, Connie!’
‘Come now, Minnie darlin’, this is your home. You were born here.’
‘Everywhere reminds me of Mom!’
‘Good! Me too!’ said Connie.
‘Dan doesn’t even like me!’
‘He loves you, Minnie; he just isn’t ready to show it yet. He’s grieving too!’ Connie sat her down and poured her a glass of lemonade. ‘Dan says you found Sasquatch prints in the forest. That’s exciting! They used to be here long ago, or so I’m told.’
‘They don’t want us here neither! One threw a pinecone at Dan!’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Don’t you see? It’s a sign. A sign we should leave! All of us, but especially me.’
‘Where would you go?’ asked Connie. ‘Your mom’s folks in South Bend, Indiana? Surely not! I won’t allow it.’
‘I can go there if I want!’ insisted Minnie. ‘I don’t want to be here!’
‘This place would not be worth living in with you gone, Minnie. You are the life and soul of this little corner of the world! You are! You have your mother’s indomitable spirit and we need you here! Those Bigfoots, or Sasquatches as I prefer to call them, up there in the forest, hold ancient wisdom and they recognise kindred souls. Things happen for a reason.’ She took both Minnie’s hands in hers. ‘Now let’s together breathe deeply this pure beautiful air, from the sea and from the forest.’ Connie closed her eyes. ‘You’ll feel better. Come on, breathe with me, in two three four, and out two three four five, in two three four five six, out two three four five six seven…’
And, though Minnie tried to breathe in time with Connie, she couldn’t because the way Connie was squeezing her eyes shut made her face look funny, and Minnie couldn’t help laughing, and then Connie started laughing with her. After the crying, the laughter made her nose run again, and she blew it on a piece of paper towel, and helped herself to a piece of pie.
Later, Dan was on the deck watching the sun go down behind the far-off hazy grey hills, drinking beer from a bottle. The tide was out and the aromas of the shoreline reached the cabin. The smell of salty, wet, seaweed-covered rocks, and damp, muddy sand mingled with the sharp pine resin from the trees that hugged the rocky shoreline on both sides of the cabin clearing. Minnie was inside, curled up in a corner of the sofa with the laptop on her knees. She looked at Dan, his head just visible outside, framed by the golden glow of the sunset lighting the window. She put the laptop on the table and came out on to the deck.
‘Night, Dan.’
‘You turning in?’ he asked.
‘Yup.’
‘Want a
nother piece of pie, Minnie?’
‘Just brushed my teeth.’
‘Minnie?’
‘Yes?’
‘You OK?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘Listen, I’m sorry about earlier. I should … and … I will, well, I will try … harder.’
‘Thanks.’ She turned to go. ‘Me too.’
And she went back inside the cabin. A few moments later Dan got up and went inside too. At the table he tapped on the laptop keyboard and the screen lit up. Minnie peeped through the gap she’d left in the doorway to her bedroom and saw him sit down and look at the page she had intentionally left open on the laptop. She smiled and closed the door quietly.
Chapter Seven
It was a shiny, sunny Sunday morning and Minnie came out of her room dressed and ready for the day. Dan was on the computer. He looked up and said, ‘Oh. Hi.’ It was unusual for Dan to be on the computer at this hour of the day. Most mornings when Minnie emerged from her room he’d already be outside working.
‘You been up all night?’ she asked.
‘Nope. Just got up.’
‘What ya lookin’ at?’ she asked.
Dan closed the laptop as he answered, ‘Oh, nothin’ much. Migrating elephants. Want to go for a hike with me,’ Dan said as he pulled on his coat, ‘to see what we can see?’
Minnie looked at him and took a bite of her apple. She smiled. ‘OK.’
‘But later,’ said Dan. ‘I have to service the wind turbine now and…’
‘So what am I going to do all day? Can’t we go hiking now? The turbine’s not going anywhere.’
‘No, Minnie. In fact, I’d appreciate some help. Like maybe do some weeding in the garden or dig the potatoes?’
So as Dan got set to climb up to the wind turbine behind the cabin, Minnie wandered over to her mother’s vegetable garden, yanked the fork out of the ground and wondered what to do with it.
Minnie spent the rest of the morning in the garden. The small vegetable plot had been her mother’s pride and joy. All manner of vegetables and fruit had thrived there under her care, but since she became ill it had grown untidy. The caneberry bushes had spread their spiky canes in to the other beds and grasses and weeds had been allowed to spread and choke the plants.
