Trapper's Moon

by Gini Rifkin

  She wiped her hand on her leather dress—the blood of a warrior, what a joke. Using the ramrod, she drove the ball down the barrel until it settled firmly. Weighed down with the powder horns, shooting pouch, a rope, and the rifle, she forced herself upright and shuffled over to Kade. Giving him one last look, she left the cabin.

  She wanted to shoot the wolverine, if for nothing else than for revenge, or to release her fear and anger. But he was only trying to stay alive, and his flesh would be stringy and tainted by musk and the odor of the carrion he generally ate. When the food was gone, he would wander off.

  ****

  Trekking through the woods for hours revealed only one game trail, but no large animals, or even a rabbit. Nothing moved in the area around Blind Deer. She usually saw all manner of creatures—some even came to her willingly. But then her intent had been friendly, now she sought to kill them. Somehow, they knew.

  As she trudged along, the longrifle seemed to grow in weight and length, getting caught on brambles and branches, slowing her progress and making noise. Each step became a conscious effort—soon even the tiniest of stones tripped her up, and crossing a fallen log became almost insurmountable. In her tribe, hunting was not a woman’s right. Were the Spirits angry at her for trying? When the daylight waned, adding to her poor vision, she returned to the cabin empty handed.

  ****

  For two more days, she repeated the grueling ritual, from sun up to sun down. Meanwhile, Kade grew weaker. He was dying. Tea, water, and flapjack crumbs couldn’t keep a healthy man alive, let alone heal a body as badly hurt as his had been. Tired and near starving herself, wild unchecked thoughts ran through her mind, and finding food became her dark obsession. What she wouldn’t give for a buffalo hump roast with prairie butter. Or even the spring shoots of balsamroot, the famine-food which had once saved her tribe following a brutal winter.

  On the third morning, weak and dizzy, she sat down on a log, the loaded rifle across her lap. Maggie sat several yards away staring at her. The dog would willingly die for Kade. With this realization, a horrifying idea took form. A failure at hunting the white man’s way, maybe she should use Indian logic.

  Blind Deer put powder in the flash pan, closed the frizzen, and cocked the hammer back. Bringing the rifle up to her shoulder, she fought to keep the heavy barrel from wavering as she brought the sights in line with dog’s head. The dog stared at her with trusting blue eyes, canting its head to one side as if questioning her actions. Blind Deer took a deep breath, held it, and pulled the trigger.

  Smoke filled the air, and the recoil nearly knocked her over backward. The ball smacked into a pine tree off to the left of Maggie. The dog yelped and ran through the woods—not once looking back.

  The rifle slid from her grip to the ground. She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, tears flowing unchecked. Sick at heart, she rocked back and forth. At the last moment, she had pulled to the side. What was she thinking? She couldn’t shoot dog. She looked too much like Coyote—the gods would never forgive her. And besides, her mother had been called Maggie, at least by her father.

  Weak with the need for food, her mind wandered, and sitting up straight, her hands in her lap, a sad smile reached her lips. Mother had been so full of life, singing little songs under her breath, chattering on about the books she’d read and things she’d seen. Father had dubbed her his Magpie, which eventually became Maggie. A nice memory, perhaps even a good excuse for not shooting dog, but it didn’t put meat in the pot.

  After resting a bit, Blind Deer rallied, and using her last bit of strength and gumption, she headed back to Kade. Along the way, she checked the bird nest she’d noticed earlier and gathered the broken bits of shell. Even these would hold nourishment.

  Several yards from her destination, she stopped dead in her tracks.

  Someone had been at the cabin.

  Chapter Ten

  Three wild ducks, dead, cleaned, and nestled in a bed of grass lay in front of the cabin door. Fear crushed her relief at seeing the food. Was it done out of kindness—or bait?

  She tightened her grip on the empty rifle and glanced around in all directions. She should have reloaded while out in the woods. Another lesson learned.

  Scooping up the ducks, she scrambled inside, slammed the door shut, and stood facing the slab of wood. Her respirations slowed from panting back to normal when it occurred to her someone could be lurking inside. She spun around, her gaze sweeping every nook and corner. Nobody was there except Kade, pale of skin, and labored of breath.

  After barring the door, she started a fire in the hearth and cooked the fowl, some roasted, some fried. Regardless of which method, every scrap must be used, including the bones and tendons to be boiled for a hearty broth.

  ****

  It had only been a day and a half, but the hours blurred one into the next, seeming to go on forever as she drifted in the land of purgatory, the haunted realm the Reverend spoke of. She existed between the hellish fear of losing Kade and the heavenly hope of having him return to normal.

  Kade grew stronger, eating everything she gave him, but he did not return completely, and it was lonely without dog. Blind Deer wondered if Maggie would ever come home. She called to her several times and set out clean water in the old dented bucket. She even set out a precious scrap of duck for her to eat.

  When not fretting over the dog, Blind Deer divided her time between ministering to Kade and wondering—no worrying—about who had left the food for them. Food nearly gone. Should she leave the cabin unattended to try hunting again?

  Kade opened his eyes, smiled, then closed them again. Like a flash of lightning, he’d come and gone, and so did her expectations. She repositioned him on his side, the sheep skins piled behind him. Moving him about was good for his lungs and his skin, and so far both remained healthy. She hoped such small gestures were of comfort to him.

  As if in answer he mumbled and reached out, and although his eyes remained closed, he instinctively found her wrist as she stood beside the bed. Drawing her hand to his chest, a peacefulness returned to his face. His breathing slowed and he rested easier.

  Kade’s beard and mustache were of some consequence, the new growth making him appear older. She touched his cheek, just above the hairline, the skin smooth almost tender. Although a rugged man, he had a softer side too, like the kindness he’d shown her.

  Not wanting to just stand and stare at him, she broke his grasp and backed away from the bed to begin the daily chores of housekeeping. If she did not stick to a schedule and perform these common rituals, she feared she might lose her mind.

  She glanced at the empty bucket by the door. She should at least leave the cabin for water. Never before had the desolation of the prairie or the closed-in darkness of the woods ever intimidated her. The towering mountains and rolling hills and valleys were her home, her refuge. Yet recently, it felt as if eyes watched from afar, and nothing was safe or sacred.

  Screwing up her courage, and knowing there was no other choice, Blind Deer set out, bucket in one hand, loaded rifle in the other.

  ****

  Awareness washed over Kade. Eyes closed, he knew he was in his cabin, and he knew the warmth he felt was from the morning sun, not the cold silent hearth.

  Cautiously, he felt around on the bed, half expecting Blind Deer to be there, warm and safe. Although he hadn’t been able to respond, he knew she lay beside him last night, at least for a little while. But the blankets were cold, the bed empty. Maybe her nearness had been but a dream.

  Eyes open, he winced at the daylight but suffered little other pain. In wonderment, he passed his hand across his eyes and through his tangled hair. Images from what he assumed were the past day or two came to mind, but like shards of glass nothing fit together. At least he had improved a great deal since the last time he had returned to full consciousness.

  After a deep breath or two, he inched his way closer to the side of the bed. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he slid his legs over the
edge until his feet touched the floor. Pushing upright with his arms, he sat motionless except for his gaze. Where was everybody? Both Maggie and Blind Deer were conspicuous in their absence.

  The splint was gone, and gaining his feet, he got his bearings and grabbed a blanket off the bed, wrapping the wool around his shoulders and naked body. The short shuffling excursion to the cabin door wore him out a bit, and he leaned against the wall before attempting to go outside.

  Where was Blind Deer? The water bucket and rifle were missing. Probably gone down to the stream. She had been at his side since the accident. He remembered hearing her voice and the stories she had told. He remembered fighting to come back to her. She had been his warmth and light. Her spirit his only sanctuary in the fearful world he’d roamed alone.

  Opening the cabin door, he stood in the sun, soaking up the healing rays as he awaited her return, a vision to fill his eyes and heart. Instead, an Indian brave materialized before him.

  The solitary man stood several yards away, clothed only in leggings, a loin cloth, and moccasins. The man stared back, formidable and unafraid. The white talons of his bear claw necklace glinted in the sun, reminding Kade of another brave and the eagle claw that had ripped his leg open those many years ago. The man’s face was slashed with red and black paint, adding a terrifying bit of decoration to the already threatening spectacle.

  Armed with a Missouri war axe, bow, and knife, the solitary figure stood stock still, a painted bag at his feet. The feeling he thought himself invincible radiated from his stance and demeanor, although he made no move to attack.

  Holy mother of God, what a way to start his first day out of bed. Kade didn’t feel fit to take on a lame rabbit let alone an unexpected Indian. As nonchalantly as possible, he glanced around for Blind Deer. Had this man already found her? Did she lie injured or dead nearby? If she were unharmed, he hoped she had the sense to stay hidden.

  “Easy, friend.” Kade straightened to his full height and tried not to weave about. “We weren’t expecting company.” He fought to keep the man in focus. “But you’re welcome. We’ve always lived in peace, wishing no harm to anyone, and expecting none to ourselves.”

  The stranger’s reply came first in Indian, and then in French. Unfamiliar with either language, Kade didn’t understand the man’s intent.

  The silence hanging in the air became increasingly uncomfortable, and Kade’s strength began to dwindle. Just as passing out seemed a possibility, he sighted Blind Deer approaching from behind their uninvited guest.

  Rifle at her shoulder, she moved silently through the grass. When she was a few paces behind the man, she cocked the gun, and call out. The intruder appeared to recognize the language she spoke. From his topknot to his beaded moccasins, the warrior tensed for action and slowly turned around.

  Sweat broke out on Kade’s forehead. Blind Deer only had one shot, and he had none. If she missed, they would both be dead before either could make a second move. Kade grabbed the door-jam, listening to the conversation flowing between Blind Deer and the stranger—their words did not seem angry. Then to his disbelief, Blind Deer lowered the rifle from her shoulder and put the hammer at half-cock. The expression on her face registered neither fear nor surrender. She stood proud and tall, not twitching a muscle as the Indian stepped closer.

  Kade was about to make what he figured would be a fatal attempt at Blind Deer’s deliverance when he heard laughter.

  The intruder stood at ease, his weapons turned aside. Their words were exchanged with increasing animation, and the Indian reached out and playfully tugged at Blind Deer’s hair. Then they spoke quietly for several moments, and the mood surrounding them changed. The man placed one hand on Blind Deer’s shoulder as if to console her. She hung her head then swiped at her face with the back of her hand.

  Kade stiffened to attention as the man recovered the nearby painted bag and reached inside. A field-dressed wild goose was revealed and offered to Blind Deer. An expression of relief eased across her face. Kade’s shoulders relaxed.

  The two spoke quietly a few more moments. Then the brave turned to squarely face Kade, his gaze intense. He shook his bow in the air as if in warning, and after a short speech in his own language and a couple of impressive war hollers, exemplifying his prowess, he departed. Not a trembling branch or whisper of sound marked the warrior’s return to the forest.

  Blind Deer ran toward the cabin. She propped the rifle against the outside wall, and still holding the large bird by its legs, she threw her arms around his neck. The goose thumped across his back sending stray feathers floating through the air. Soft and yielding, her body pressed tight against his. Cocooned in his blanket, he couldn’t properly return her hug, but she was safe and that’s what mattered. His spirit sighed with relief, and at her closeness, his body ached with need.

  Then the moment was over.

  Standing on tip-toes, she sweetly kissed his cheek. “Thank the heavens you are back, Kade. At the sight of you upright and looking so well, my heart rejoices.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “On the same day in which it has also been badly broken.”

  Kade grabbed up the rifle and allowed her to help him back inside.

  “What do you mean? Who was that man?” He sat on the edge of the bed anxious to understand what was going on.

  “He is my brother.”

  “You mean like part of your tribe?”

  “No. I mean my older brother, Nikota. One who playfully tormented, yet always protected me—until I went away.”

  Stunned, he remained silent, trying to grasp the full meaning of her words. “You should have invited him in.”

  “I did. He has made camp nearby. He does not trust easily, especially white people. We will talk again soon.”

  “He had news then of your family, your people?”

  “Yes, but the word was not good. Except for a very few, they are all gone.”

  “Your mother and father?”

  She nodded. Her chin quivered, and she turned away, fussing with the goose she had placed upon the cutting board.

  He knew what it felt like to lose one’s parents. About to say so, a shiver of suspicion took hold of him instead. “How did he know where to find you?” Coincidence was always a possibility, but out here, it was hard enough finding folks on purpose let alone by chance.

  “He crossed paths with a small Hudson’s Bay Party and their Blackfoot guides. Listening from afar, he heard them talking around the campfire. They groused about having to search for two free trappers and a Flathead Indian woman with green eyes and a bounty on her head.

  “The description of the woman caught his attention. The next day, the brigade split up in order to more quickly cover the terrain. My brother approached a lone man in peace but was met with war. He won of course.”

  There was pride in her voice, but not much else registered with him but one thing. “There’s a bounty on your head?”

  “Yes. The Reverend has accused me of not only running away, but of stealing from the mission school. The local law is cracking down on thieving redskins, so they made a poster of me and offered a reward. They even alerted the Army.”

  Words he couldn’t utter in her presence flooded his mind.

  “This is bad doin’s. They’ll be looking for you at rendezvous. Tarnation, they’ll be looking for you everywhere, from here back to the Mississippi.”

  At his words, the color faded from her cheeks. He hadn’t meant to scare her. Better change the subject. “What was your brother doing out there in the first place?”

  “He too is heading for rendezvous, to trade for supplies. He crossed the HBC path by accident. They made so much noise, they were hard to miss. Since peace was not possible, he used cunning and bravery and took them out, one by one. The Blackfoot have always been our enemy, and now the HBC is too. Before the last one died, my brother asked him many questions. Searching for us, they had returned to the very site of the prior battle—where you shot me.”

  Now it was
his turn to feel the lifeblood drain from his face. “You didn’t tell him about that did you?”

  “Maybe someday, but no, he would probably wish to kill you.”

  He didn’t doubt her words for a moment. “How did he know to look for you?”

  “Nikota saw the poster they carried. The drawing of me was true to life and stated a young green-eyed Indian woman with hair that curled was on the run from a missionary school in St. Louis. He felt in his heart it had to be me. Then although the trail was old and the English were too stupid to do so, and the Blackfoot too lazy, he tracked us from the battle site to your cabin.”

  “But what happened to your tribe?”

  Pain and sorrow erased away every bit of happiness at finding her brother.

  “They are nearly all gone, wiped out. Nikota seemed reluctant to tell me the whole story. But he hinted the HBC was involved in that too.”

  Kade stood and reached out with one arm and drew her near. “I’m so sorry, Blind Deer. You were so close to joining them, so close to fulfilling your dream of returning home.”

  She clung to him, sobbing. Before now, she had never shown any signs of weakness. At least not in front of him or Tucket. Maybe she felt safer knowing her brother was nearby, or maybe she had begun to trust him just a little bit.

  “They never got my letters. They never knew how I suffered, or how much I missed them. And I never got theirs.”

  She pulled away and sniffed. An expression of grim determination replaced her sorrow.

  “The English also talked of their Captain. His name is Sulgrave.”

  Kade had heard the name before. A leader for the Company out of Fort Elise, this booshway had a ruthless reputation for mistreating the British trappers as well as his own men. Men like the soldiers who had originally captured Blind Deer—the ones he and Tucket had killed. Now her brother had killed more of Sulgrave’s men, and the Captain would be out for revenge on all of them.

  “I must leave for this rendezvous, and then go back to help what few of my people are left. Your condition is much improved. You can stay here on your own. My brother and I will leave in the morning.”