Goldenseal

by Gill McKnight

  Amy gave one last sweeping glance along the riverbank. It was then she noticed her fish. Her trout lay several feet away from where she’d left them. How long had she been asleep? She stood, as if that would give her a better perspective on events. Towel in hand, she padded across the stepping-stones to the bank. As she approached she noticed the rapidly drying paw prints circling the fish. They were massive, and clawed, and made every fine hair on her already goose-bumped flesh stand on end. She watched aghast as the prints slowly dissipated before her eyes with the heat of the sun. A rustle in the nearby undergrowth shook her out of her stupor and galvanized her into action. She dropped her towel and hurriedly grabbed at her clothes, deciding it was best to get dressed and go as quickly as possible.

  “Been fishing?” Leone emerged from the tree line just several yards upstream from where Amy stood.

  Startled, Amy spun around angrily. As if this wasn’t creepy enough, now I’ve got a peeper ogling me from the woods.

  “Do you mind?” she barked scrabbling to cover her semi-nudity with the towel.

  Leone blinked and flushed hotly. She turned away to give Amy her privacy, but not before taking in the gentle sway of lace cupped breasts as Amy bent for the towel, or the russet curls nestling under a soft, rounded belly. The damp translucency of Amy’s underwear hid little. Saliva flooded Leone’s mouth and she swallowed hard. Her stomach tightened as a primal power shifted, bearing down heavily on her chest and belly. Her nostrils quivered lifting a succulent scent from the air. It felt so unnatural to turn away from this woman, but she wanted Amy to feel as comfortable as possible around her. It was important if Leone was to get anywhere near her.

  “Okay, you can turn around now.”

  Leone did so, slowly. Amy was fully dressed, stuffing her towel back into her backpack and gathering her gear together. She seemed flustered and upset. She glanced up as Leone turned to her.

  “Thank you.” She gave curt approval of Leone’s manners, and then nodded toward the fish. “Something’s been at them.”

  “What do you mean? Has an animal been sniffing around your fish?” Leone stiffened, but her voice remained casual and light.

  “I didn’t see it. I was sleeping.” Amy indicated the big river rock she had sunbathed on. “But whatever it was it had big feet.”

  “Like a duck?” Leone asked flippantly, masking her concern in banter.

  “No! Not a duck…huge feet.” Amy held her hands out about two foot apart in the proverbial bragging fisherman pose. Leone’s eyebrows rose. “Come and see for yourself.” Amy pointed to the dried out marks around her fish.

  Leone approached and looked at the damp, rapidly drying smudges. They looked like nothing but told her everything.

  “Oh my God. It’s an Oregon Duck, all right. From the size of those splotches, it looks like the linebacker.”

  “You’re such a smart-ass. They’ve all dried up, but I’m telling you they were big…with claws. Maybe bears?”

  “Nah, they’re all playing for Chicago.”

  “Again, you are so not funny. This is serious.”

  “Yes, it is. What are you doing out here anyway? I thought we’d agreed I’d drop by in the morning and tell you where the hunting was so you’d be safe from the ducks and the bears with the big feet.”

  “We did not agree on any such thing. I’m seeing Marie tonight and telling her to get you off my back. You’re like a melanoma.” Amy scowled in discomfort. Leone knew catching Amy in her underwear had not been the best of moves. She needed to fix it somehow, and fast.

  “Anyway, this area is safe.” Amy continued to harangue her, and with great aplomb went on to list all the reasons she did not need Leone glued to her throughout the day. “It has never been hunted; it’s for fishing only. It’s near a quick trail home. Plus, it’s one of the places I knew I’d find the first specimen on Marie’s list.”

  “You started already?” Leone made sure she sounded impressed. “Good for you.” As she spoke she stooped to collect the fishing pole and tackle box. If she was helpful she reasoned she could walk back with Amy rather than leave her alone again. To make certain, she scooped up the fish, too, letting them dangle at her side from the joint line through their gills.

  “Yes. Remember the devil’s club up on the slope? The one Jori fell into when he was eight or nine? Well, it’s still there, bristling away as evil as ever.” Amy rambled on happily now that she was on a favorite topic. She grabbed at her backpack, her annoyance forgotten as she began to regale Leone with her news. “I got some great sketches. It looks so pretty in the fall, and it’s no longer toxic this time of year either. I’m going to tell Marie where it is in case she wants to harvest it.”

  Leone listened happily to Amy’s lilting voice as they strolled alongside each other. Before joining the riverbank trail she took a last narrowed eyed look at the woodland on the far side of the Silverthread. There was nothing she could pick up on.

  “…and then I caught the other one nearly five minutes later. I swear if the cabin had a freezer I could have filled it.” Amy had moved on to her fishing stories. Leone smiled, sharing in the excitement of a good day’s fishing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  And you’re sure there are no bears or other man-eating monsters in the valley?” Amy’s voice was filled with concern. “If I told you there were huge, man-eating, really monstrous bears would you let me escort you everywhere?”

  “No. I would just have to carry a gun and be worried and intimidated and my work would suffer and your deadline would go belly up.”

  “Okay. Definitely, no bears.”

  “Well, wolves, then? There are wolves all over the place.”

  “The wolves are too high up. And too shy to come this far down to the Silverthread. Nope, it was just a beaver or something sniffing around your fish. You probably scared him off before he could steal one.”

  “Beaver?” Amy guffawed. Leone was being ridiculous. “No way would a beaver leave such big prints. I saw them, remember? You aren’t going to make me change my mind. I know what I saw. It had to be at least as big as a bear.”

  “Well, all you have as evidence are some dried-out splashes and two unmolested trout. It’s hard to believe Godzilla’s on a rampage.”

  “Bite me, Garoul. Something with great big paws was on that riverbank poking at my fish.”

  “Look, let’s be rational. A great big, ferocious animal would just take the fish and run. Right?”

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Amy frowned. “I have a feeling I’m about to be rationalized out of my ‘big bad bear’ theory.”

  “I think a heron or beaver or something like that came after your fish and you surprised it before it could drag these big beauties away.” Leone held up the beauties in question. “It makes the most sense. Think about it.”

  “Pfft. Heron?” Amy snorted again. “Perhaps it was Big Bird? If only there were some discarded yellow feathers to prove your theory…or I’d heard the alphabet song.”

  “Okay, you win. It’s a big bad, killer bear and you need a bodyguard.” Leone sneaked in her knockout blow.

  “No. Maybe you’re right. It was probably just a thieving beaver or some such.” Amy hastily U-turned on prowling carnivores if it meant she was going to be railroaded into having an escort.

  Leone smiled and let her. All she needed was a fix on Amy’s whereabouts and she could easily keep a discreet eye on her. It was better than locking antlers with her every morning over where she could and could not go. It could all be done on the quiet and Amy would be none the wiser.

  They continued to enjoy the walk back. The afternoon sun was fading away, and Amy felt cold as they moved into the shadowed side of the valley. Damp underwear didn’t help her chill factor, either. She gave an involuntary shiver.

  “You’re cold. Could I make you a nice pot of tea when we get home? Maybe you could show me your field sketches?” Leone tried to wrangle an invite.

  “I’m not cold.” Amy remembered the dri
nk they’d shared last night. She didn’t want to encourage that sort of scenario again.

  “It’s just so I can get a feel for how your work will complement Marie’s text.” Leone shamelessly played her editor’s card.

  Amy hesitated. She loved talking about botanical illustration, and could yak about it for hours on end. So what if Leone wanted to be the one she spent time yakking to? Leone was her editor, after all. It was right that they should talk about these things.

  “Well, okay, if it’s to do with work. But no hugging,” she warned.

  Leone defended her good-night squeezing. “I was just saying good night.”

  “Keep your hands to yourself.” Amy was adamant there would be no replay.

  They turned the final bend and the cabin lay before them.

  “Okay, no hugs,” Leone said. “But can I see the sketches? I need an overview.”

  “Fine. Just let me change into something warm and dry first.” Together they mounted the steps to Connie’s cabin.

  “Better yet, go and grab a hot shower and I’ll light a fire. You can bank it up to keep the cabin toasty while you’re at Marie’s for dinner. How does that sound?” Leone pushed her luck now that she was through the door.

  Amy felt shivery every time she moved out of the direct sunlight. Now that she was indoors, a full chill settled on her bones. A warm fire and hot cup of tea sounded really good.

  “You’ve got a deal. It is cold in here.”

  With hot water pouring down her body and all the chill and cramps of the afternoon washing away with the suds, Amy was glad her world was returning to normal after her earlier scare. As annoying as Leone’s teasing could be, Amy was comforted by the plain common sense hidden in it. Amy didn’t want hungry bears, or wolves, or even cougars, lurking nearby as she sunbathed, so part of her was more than willing to listen to Leone’s more acceptable theories. The alternative was to admit she did need someone watching out for her as she worked. And that someone would doubtless be Leone. And that would never do.

  Leone quickly lit a small fire and put the kettle on the stove to boil. She hunted along the cluttered mantelpiece for Connie’s battered old wooden box. Lifting the lid released a myriad of pungent aromas from the various incenses and essential oils stored in it. The rich mixture was overpowering but also curiously warm and welcoming. Leone found the small incense cone she was after, and placing it on the hearth, lit it. Thin strands of smoke curled into the air. Some escaped straight up the chimney; others wound their way through the cabin, draping it with a spicy tang.

  The kettle bubbled and she moved back into the kitchen to prepare a pot of tea. She sorted through the various containers lined along a shelf and finally wandered over to the bathroom door.

  “What flavor tea are you in the mood for? I got mint, chamomile, or maybe some ginger would warm you up?” she called through to Amy.

  “Yes, ginger sounds good. I’ll only be a few more minutes.”

  Amy felt the stiffness melt out of her bones. Part of her muscular tension she put down to being damp and cold after her swim. The rest was due to her earlier fright. Imagined or not, she found the entire experience unsettling. Not so much the fishy footprints as the horrible feeling she’d had gazing into the eerily silent woods. She could have sworn a wave of utter malignancy had flooded from the forest, chilling her more than the cool afternoon air ever could.

  Now, in the warmth and safety of her cabin, with Leone puttering about in the kitchen, she put all her strange sensations down to re-acclimatizing to the valley and its wildlife. She was being ridiculous. Nevertheless, she was glad of Leone’s company. Amy felt silly at being spooked at shadows, and it was good of Leone to hang around until she felt more settled. She knew there was more to this visit than Leone wanting to look at her sketches. Leone had seen she’d been unnerved and wanted her artist rested and reassured. Amy appreciated the kindness.

  The bathroom was fogged up and Amy opened a window to let a blast of fresh air into the tiny room. The wooden edge rasped and caught across the badly weathered windowsill. Amy frowned; the wood surround was gouged and splintered and almost jamming the window shut. Connie was usually on top of the constant maintenance a home like this demanded. She’d have to ask Marie which of the Garouls were responsible for doing odd jobs on the cabins and get them to come out. The window needed serviced badly.

  Amy threw on some clean sweats and opened the door into the cozy living room with its crackling fire. Leone was clattering cups and spoons in the kitchen; a pot of tea sat brewing on the countertop. Amy’s heart lurched at the happy domesticity of the scene. She was suffused with a feeling of contentment, as if she’d just arrived home. Confused at the sudden rush of emotion she gulped a deep breath of…of…

  “Oh my God. What’s that smell?”

  “You don’t like it?” Leone looked up anxiously.

  “No. What is it?”

  “Scullcap.” She sounded a little dejected.

  “What crap?”

  “Scullcap. Shake the water out of your ears. Connie told me to burn it.”

  “What the hell for? It smells like feet—”

  “It does not smell like feet. It’s a nice smell.” “Satan’s feet. Why the hell are you stinking up my cabin?” Leone frowned at the question. “Mmm…termites. It’s a natural termite deterrent.” She brought over two steaming mugs of ginger tea. “Termites? Here? In Connie’s cabin? And that smell chases them away how?”

  “I don’t know how,” Leone snipped back, very unhappy with the topic of conversation. “It just does.”

  “Maybe they think Satan’s coming,” Amy groused, sinking onto the couch. “Okay, I give up. I’m too tired and you’re too ridiculous to argue with.”

  She reached for her mug, her nose wrinkling in disgust. “Can you turn it off now? I’m sure the termites have all absconded. In fact, I might not be far behind them. Wouldn’t it be better to get in pest control?”

  “Nope, Connie told me what to do. We just sit here and let the incense burn out, nice and easy. So stop your yammering and drink your tea.” Leone joined her on the couch looking relieved the conversation was over. As usual she sat too close, almost shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. Amy glanced at her with a small frown; Leone seemed oblivious that she was eating up the prescribed space for a normal seating arrangement. Amy decided to let it go. This time she was prepared for any sudden hugging.

  After a few moments of fire gazing and tea sipping Leone turned and asked, “So, can I see your devil’s club sketches?”

  “Mmm, yes.” Thoroughly relaxed and content, Amy went to collect her folder and camera from her backpack. When she returned to the couch she sat in the same place she’d just vacated without a second thought, unfazed that she was wedged so close to Leone’s long, lean body.

  Right up until dinnertime they browsed through the sketches and then the photos, discussing the merits of each, happily sipping tea, crushed into the corner of the couch, as the little cone of incense burned away.

  The wonderful aroma of beef curry greeted them as they entered Marie’s cabin.

  “Perfect timing, you two. It’s ready for the table. Leone, uncork the wine please,” Marie called from the kitchen. In a few minutes they were sitting at the dining table enjoying a robust Pinot Noir with their meal.

  “So, you had a good day in the field?” Marie asked.

  Amy nodded enthusiastically. “Oplopanax horridus. The very first one on your list, and I knew exactly where to find it.”

  “She remembered the clump Jori fell into years ago.” Leone chuckled.

  “Oh, Lord, what a day that was. Poor Jori. Talk about learning the hard way.” Marie shook her head at the memory, a rueful smile on her lips.

  “The initial sketches are fantastic,” Leone said.

  Marie looked hopefully at the bag Amy had brought with her. “I don’t suppose you brought them with you?”

  “No. But I’ll call by and show you the ones Leone and I singled ou
t. I plan to start in Connie’s studio tomorrow. But if the weather’s good then I’ll go out again and paint later at night.”

  “What’s next on the list?” Marie asked.

  “Um, next is Prunus emarginata. I can find bitter cherry most places along the river. After that it’s Hyoscyamus niger. Black henbane, I didn’t know that grew here. It’s a poisonous weed isn’t it?”

  “Yes. You’ll find it higher up near the south ridge, close to the logging track,” Marie said.

  “It’s way up there?”

  “Mmm, about a half mile or so back from the road before it bends around Big Jack.” Marie mentioned a particularly large tree used as a local waypoint.

  “I’ll take you up there tomorrow if the weather holds,” Leone said.

  “No need, I can go myself now that I know where to look.”

  “I’d rather Leone went with you. It’s a long hard hike, and I’m sure she can help carry something,” Marie said.

  “All I take is my backpack. I hardly need a sherpa.”

  “Well,” Leone pointed out, “what if you fell or something? Or that panda came after you again? It’s a long way out.”

  “What panda?” Marie looked inquisitively at Leone.

  “Ignore her. She’s teasing me because I thought I saw something in the woods today.”

  “Something in the woods?” Marie was immediately concerned.

  “Oh, it was nothing, just a spooky feeling. But something was sniffing around my fish. Leone assures me it was a small animal with big feet.” Amy caught the look between Leone and her mother. Worried they would gang up on her about needing a chaperone, she moved quickly on to another of her morning activities. “You should have seen the fish I caught, Marie.” She held her hands up, about two feet apart. “He was a whopper. This big.”

  “Yeah.” Leone snorted derisively. “Like it was ever that big.”