A raven woke her quite early in the morning, complaining bitterly. Another bird joined in the raucous dispute. Anya wondered what the quarrel was about and felt she should investigate. Anya shook Petyr awake.
After a whisper into his ear that she was going to find out what had the birds in such an uproar, Anya grabbed her knife, bow and arrows and left the camp. Low ground fog swirled around her as she made her way carefully in the direction of the commotion which had only gotten worse. It sounded as if more birds were joining in.
The trees thinned and Anya found herself on the edge of a bog. Partially in the water lay the carcass of a large brown bear. The ravens were having an ongoing dispute as to who should have the choicest bits.
She turned to dash back to the camp. "Petyr! Petyr get dressed quickly. Find the rope. Bring it and the butcher knife. Come with me now. Hurry!"
Asleep in his pants, Petyr rose and pulled on his shirt. A shiver slid through his thin body as the boy pushed the knife into his belt and grabbed the rope in his good hand. Anya had already turned to rush back the way she had come.
"Go away!" She yelled at the birds, scattering the flock, which did not go far.
Unwilling to leave such a rare find, they settled in the trees surrounding the carcass. Muttering in low tones, with occasional squawks, the ravens complained about her treatment of them.
Petyr saw the great mound of bear, stopped and inched forward. "It is dead?"
Anya did not turn to look at him. "Of course! Otherwise these birds would not be here. They can have our left overs. We need this animal more than they do."
With one had on the shaggy hide, she thoroughly inspected the dead bear. "Here." Anya pointed out where the bear had apparently suffered a massive swipe to its throat from a rival for its territory.
"It was killed by another animal. Only another bear could have done this."
Petyr looked around warily. "Do you think it will come after us?"
"No, so long as we get this one skinned and leave here quickly."
She drew her knife to slit the bear open from between its legs to the damaged throat area. Anya was glad she had sharpened the knife.
"Skin it?" Petyr squeaked.
"Of course. Do you think I would leave all this and walk off?" Anya waved her hand toward the bear. "This is a fresh kill. Come, help me gut it."
Petyr gulped as he squatted down beside her. "What do I do?"
After splitting the body cavity open, they took out the entrails. Anya pulled the offal away from the area they were working in. She left Petyr trying to hack through the stiff fur around the animal's neck. She squeezed everything from the stomach and intestines then flushed them with bog water. Those she would use, the rest Anya left for the ravens. As soon as she turned away the birds swarmed onto the pile of organs.
The young woman and boy worked together to skin the great beast. Using the rope, they pulled the carcass out of the water.
It was difficult to peal the hide off the animal. They were both panting and sweat rolled down the young woman's face when they rolled the animal over to get at the last section of hide.
As fresh as the kill was and as cool as it had been the night before, she felt comfortable taking the back strap, the muscle that lay to each side of the backbone.
Anya removed all its claws along with the canine teeth which she knocked out of its jaws with the handle of her knife. Cutting chunks of fat from the carcass, she stuffed as much as possible into the stomach. With a piece of sinew, Anya tied the now full stomach, at both ends.
Petyr was amazed at her knowledge. "Where, how did you learn all this?"
"I told you of my uncle. I spent much time in the village. My uncle and my great uncle made sure I learned what I needed to know. Also, my Father taught me. All my family were fur hunters. One learns."
"This hide is heavy." Petyr was panting as he tried to pull the hide further down the bear's back with one hand.
"Exactly why I want it."
They pulled and tugged the last section of hide from the animal's carcass.
"Run back to the camp. Get the axe and bring it to me."
The boy did as she asked. While he was gone Anya walked over to the pile of offal, scattering birds as she did. Reluctantly, they gave up the feeding frenzy. She searched through the pile for the bear's bladder which none of the birds had touched. Anya cleaned it out and reached the body of the animal just as Petyr returned with the axe.
"Help me roll up the hide. We can flesh it out later."
Anya took the rolled up hide and tied the bundle together with the rope. She helped Petyr shoulder the heavy hide before turning back to look at the beast. "Go along. I do not think you wish to see this."
The stomach, intestines, bladder and meat lay close to the carcass. Once finished, Anya would take them back to camp. There was one more thing to do. She did not think the young boy needed to see her harvest the brains of the animal, so she could tan the hide.
"Grandfather Bear." Anya squatted down beside the great head. "I am sorry you met your death. Know that you will be of use."
She hesitated for a moment, but knew it must be done. Anya cracked the bear's skull with the axe. Carefully, she removed the gray matter inside, placing it into the empty bladder. Leaving the rest of the carcass to the ravens, Anya went back to camp.
Petyr had already begun to roll up his bedding. Without a word, they broke camp. Anya was occupied with the puzzle of how they would get such a large undertaking carried out and still get down river in a reasonable amount of time. The hide would be very useful. If nothing else, it would be a good trade item, as would the teeth and claws.
Petyr thought about the effort they had expended just getting the hide from the animal. It was a heavy burden. Petyr watched where he walked, fearful of losing his balance and falling.
He assumed when they stopped for the evening, bear meat would be what they ate. Petyr sighed, he was having to ask for forgiveness a great deal since being rescued by Anya. But, he knew God understood. After all, had he not put them together?
That evening they had bear meat rubbed with herbs and grilled on a stick over the fire. Anya had Petyr cut many thin strips of the meat, which she then hung on sticks around the fire to dry. The balance of the meat she packed into the bear's stomach pushing it into the fat.
She also mixed the fat with herbs. Anya insisted Petyr eat some of it. He protested somewhat, but in the end did as she insisted.
As the meat was cooking Anya rolled out the hide and began to flesh it using her hunting knife. "This is going to take far longer than it should as I do not have the correct tool." She grumbled.
Petyr watched as she pealed clumps of flesh and veins from the skin side of the hide. "How long do you think this will take to do?"
Wiping sweat from her forehead with one hand, Anya did not bother to answer his question. "Here. I am going to show you how to remove the first layer, then I will come behind you to do the finer work."
Petyr looked at her in surprise. "But I only have one hand. I do not want to put a hole in the hide."
Anya picked up the butcher knife and wrapped her hand around the top of the blade. "One hand will work. I do not want you to do more than take off the surface layer. See." She demonstrated by using her little finger under the middle of the knife blade as a makeshift guide.
"Do not go any deeper than this. I will come behind you to take a second layer off."
Feeling he had little choice in the matter, Petyr shrugged and began to flesh the hide as she directed.
"What caused you to go out this morning and find the bear?" He asked as he lifted off chunks of flesh from the hide.
"The ravens. They were making such a racket. You did not hear anything?"
"No." He kept his eyes on the knife.
"I have wondered if the ravens have led me to things." Anya used both hands on the knife, one on the handle, the other at the tip of the blade to scrape the hide clean.
"That would no
t be unusual." Petyr hit a particularly thick patch, which he very carefully pared away.
"What do you mean?" Anya sat back on her heels as she stretched her back.
"In Torah, it tells of how God sent the ravens to feed Isaiah at a brook."
"I did not know that."
"Are there teachers in church? Surely they teach the lessons?" Petyr threw the chunk of flesh he had been working on to one side.
"We live on an island far from the church. We go when we can, but not often." Bending over the hide again, Anya continued scraping it.
"There are many interesting things to be read in Torah. I think you call it the Old Testament."
"I doubt there is anything on the fleshing of hides." Anya grumbled as she took a fresh grip on her knife.
Petyr thought for a moment. "Not exactly on the subject, but it does say God made clothing for Adam and Eve from skins."
"And I would imagine he did not have to flesh out the hides either." Anya complained as she followed behind him.
She had the difficult task of trying to keep the hide the same thickness all the way through from top to bottom. It was an exacting job. One she did not have much experience with. Squirrel and rabbit skins she had tanned several of. Almost any child could flesh something that small to the correct thickness.
Her inexperience made her slower than she would have liked. Anya did not want to tell Petyr her knowledge was gained more from looking and listening than from doing.
Petyr was considering what he had learned from the conversation. It appeared Anya had learned little from anyone regarding the Book. He determined he would do what he could to change the situation.
First and foremost, she needed to learn about forgiveness. The anger she was carrying toward her husband was not going to help her when they were finally at their destination.
As grumpy as she was at the moment, he was not going to mention anything regarding her husband. Later, he would see if he could inject some small bits of truth into their evening talks. After all, they had a very long way to go, there was plenty of time.
Anya fell into her bedding that night completely exhausted. The day had started far too early. The work had been unrelenting. For all of that she lay for a time listening to the sounds in the dark. Petyr's even breathing as he slept, the call of a small night creature, nothing was out of the ordinary.
Mentally she was still alert. Looking at the sky, she thought about those she loved. They were under the same sky, viewing the same stars. How she wished she could tell them she was alive and well.
Charles was another matter. There were many things she wished to tell him, the very first, being goodbye.
Bressoff Island came to mind. She pictured the sparking water, the trees and the people. She thought of her father and Camille. Anya could picture them along with her brother and sister, all playing in the clearing surrounding the house.
Picturing the stable, Anya suddenly saw Stanislaus standing in the doorway of the old building. The day she read to him about the French Revolution slid into her mind. She remembered that day vividly. Stanislaus with his shirt off, was mucking out the stalls, working as she read to him. Then they discussed the subject.
The night of the party when she met Charles, Stanislaus was there. He had always been larger than all the other boys. At the party she had realized that as tall as she was, the top of her head reaching her fathers chin, he was taller yet. His head slightly lowered as they spoke, his dark eyes shining in the light, the man had towered above her.
She turned on her side. Pillowing her head on one arm, Anya was trying to recall what she and Stanislaus had been talking about that night, when she drifted off to sleep.
Charles waited until his father was safely in the den, with his paper, cigar and nightly bourbon, before he drew his mother off for a private talk. Seated at the kitchen table with the help gone for the evening, Charles smoothed out the note before handing it to her.
Abigail read it. Looking up into the face of her son, she could tell he was clearly worried.
"This complicates things vastly." She laid the paper on the table.
Charles ran one hand through his hair. "What do I do Mother? My first inclination is to take her and run."
Abigail nodded. "You may have no choice. If the tong finds her they may take her back, but are likely to kill you."
"But they are everywhere! Where can we go that they will not find us?" Charles gripped his hands together tightly,
Abigail reached for his hand. "Let us pray and see if there is an answer."
They prayed silently. Abigail was clutching Charles' fingers. After a few minutes she lifted her head. "Charles."
He looked up at his mother. "Yes Ma'am?"
"Anya is never coming back is she?"
Again he ran his fingers through his hair. "I do not believe so. I am certain she is dead."
Nodding, his mother tapped the note on the table between them. "Then, you are free to marry again. Marry her, son. Talk with our pastor alone. He evidently knows of the danger here. Would you have a problem being married to Ying Hau?"
"No, I would not. She is so vulnerable, so delicate. I want to keep her safe always."
"You do understand some of this may be a reaction to the guilt you feel regarding Anya?" His mother's eyes searched his. He sat straighter in the chair.
"Perhaps, at first. I wanted to make amends for...for Anya. But, there is something about Ying Hau I am not able to explain."
"You need to consider carefully. It will be a very difficult life for the both of you. Your children will be looked upon as half breeds. You will never have many friends as there are bigots, even within the church, who hate without cause.
Mrs. Keetering clasped her hands together so tightly her finger joints cracked. "And you will have to change your name and hers. You will never be able to come back to San Francisco." Abigail looked up at her son. Tears began to run down her cheeks.
Realizing the truth of all she said, Charles sighed. "I will never see you or Father again."
Slowly Abigail nodded. "We will surely find a way to communicate. But it will be some time before I will be able to discuss this rationally with your Father."
Charles considered what must be done. "Practically, I will need to have the pastor marry us with fictitious names. Take all the money from my account, buy us tickets to somewhere and disappear within the next few days. I do not think we will be able to wait very long. The tongs have a long reach, sooner or later they will find us, if we stay here."
Rubbing the tears from her face, Abigail began to plan the escape with Charles.
"I would suggest you use my maiden name. You are Charles Edward Keetering you can become C. Edward Merriman. Ask the pastor what Ying Hau's name means in English. Make her last name, oh perhaps Italian?
"I would take the money out of the bank and use your marriage certificate to reopen another account in another bank. Take only enough to see you settled somewhere else. For an address, hummm, we will need to consider where to ....Oh just have the bank hold all correspondence until you have a permanent address. They should be able to do so, as you will be making a substantial enough deposit to make them amenable."
"I do not have quite as much as you might think Mother. Several things are tied up in investments."
Silently, Abigail considered Charles' comment. "Arrange for someone at the old bank to act for you under a limited power of attorney to liquidate those assets. Then we can get your Father's firm to take the cash....No, not the firm. Perhaps the pastor. Give him the power of attorney. Let him liquidate the assets. Give him a tithe, have the remaining funds handed over to me. I will see that the funds are placed in the new account."
Abigail smoothed the little note with both hands.
Shaking his head, Charles took his mother's hand. "I do not want to see you put into danger over this. It is enough that I will not see you again."
"Have faith Charles. First, I am a bit slyer than you give me credit
for. I do have a history of hiding people and things. Just let me know the bank and the account number, then I will take care of it. Ying Hau will need new clothing. I will take care of that in the morning. Have the pastor fill out the marriage certificate before coming here to marry you. Then you can take it to move the funds around. In the meantime I will ready Ying Hau for the journey."
He shook his head in disbelief at the astounding discovery that his quiet and obedient mother was capable of things he had never even guessed at.
With a grin, he leaned over the table to whisper to his fellow conspirator. "So where are we going?"
"I think San Diego, by way of several different places. First, book passage under Merriman to Seattle. Also book passage for C. Keetering to Seattle. For Merriman leave the ship at Portland. From there, go on to San Pedro and then to San Diego. You have learned enough, it is time you opened your own law practice. Do so there. There is a Chinese Mission at San Diego, offer your services to them free of charge. I will become active in the mission house up here. There is no reason why a correspondence should not become common between the two entities."
Charles stared at his mother in astonishment. Shaking his head as if to clear it he looked at her in bemusement. "You would have made a great spy in the civil war, Mother."
"Thank you, dear. We both have our marching orders for tomorrow. Stay up stairs. I will tell your father you are not feeling well enough to go in to the office tomorrow. Now to bed with the both of us. It will be a long day."
Ying Hau stood before the mirror amazed at the transformation Mam had made in her appearance. The clothing was plain but would wear well. She would not look out of place. Her old silk robe lay on the end of the bed. Ying Hau decided she did not care if she never saw it again.
Mam had brushed out her hair and tied it in two places with ribbon. She was not sure about the shoes however. The heel and the high tops might make walking even more difficult than normal.
Mam smiled as she spread the high tops wide. She had cut pieces of sheepskin then inserted them into the shoes skin side down. "Sit child."
Daughter of the Raven Page 20
