Lionel sat up with a start, clutching at his neck for the bear claws. They weren’t there. He looked around in the darkness. It was raining, and Lionel wasn’t in a grove of aspen with the Frozen Man. He was wrapped in the buffalo robe in the mountains above the lodge in the meadow. Mr. Hawkins was crouched, tying the last corner of a tarp over Lionel’s head. The rain thundered on the tarp, but now they were all dry, or as dry as could be expected.
“Go back to sleep there, Lionel,” Mr. Hawkins whispered. “It’s all right, just a little rain.”
Lionel watched Mr. Hawkins’s silhouette as he settled back down against his saddle. “Just a little rain.”
Lionel felt around the buffalo robe to see if the claws had come off while he was sleeping. They weren’t there. Had someone taken them? He looked around suspiciously. who would take them? Then he thought about all that had happened that day and remembered that the last time he had seen the bear claws had been when he went swimming down by the stream. He had left them. He had left the string of bear claws by the stream in the meadow.
Not knowing what to do, he considered waking Beatrice and telling her, to see what she thought, but he could hear her heavy breathing and knew that it was rare that he was awake at a time when she wasn’t. He had often wondered if she ever slept.
For a moment he lay listening to the rain splatter on the tarp. He had to go back. He had to go back to get the bear claws.
Chapter Thirty-Two
RUNNING IN THE RAIN • A TALKING WOLVERINE • THE PIRATE’S TREE • THE COLLIDING MULE • MR. HAWKINS
LIONEL WAITED until everyone’s breathing turned heavy, and then, when it did, continued to wait, wanting to make certain that he did not wake any of them, especially Mr. Hawkins.
Finally, Lionel folded back the buffalo robe and crawled out from under the tarp and into the rainy, black night. Hunched low, he sprinted from their encampment back to the trail that their caravan cut in their escape from the meadow.
He ran as best he could back down the spiraling path. Small rivers poured down the center of the game trail, and twice Lionel fell as he made his way to the valley below. He ran until he could run no farther, then assured himself that there was still plenty of night and that he would be back with the bear claws before morning and that none of them would know he had ever left.
The trail dropped down into the valley, and although it took longer than he had hoped, Lionel soon found himself running once again, this time parallel to the stream that would eventually lead him back to the meadow. Lionel looked to the east, where the morning would soon show itself in the distant clouded skies.
Lionel slowed once he reached the small grove of aspen, keeping an eye out for the branch where he had hung the claws. It had stopped raining, and as the clouds cleared, with the first hint of the new day, Lionel realized that he had wandered past their swimming hole. He thought that he had perhaps overshot that entire part of the river. He made his way back along the bank and once again found himself in a tight thicket of aspen, the same aspen from his dream. Lionel wandered through the maze, unable to get his bearings. He knew he was close, so how could he miss it? Lionel stood, scared and unsure as to what he should do next. He thought about giving up and heading back to find Beatrice and Mr. Hawkins and the others; but then something shiny fell from the sky.
Lionel moved a few paces into the small grove to investigate and found a shiny gold button in the rotting leaves that covered the forest floor. He picked it up and noticed that it had an eagle engraved on it, similar to the military buttons on the coat that the captain had given him. He ran a finger down his jacket’s open flap and was surprised to find that they were all still firmly intact. A dark shadow passed over him, and Lionel looked up to see the fleeting tail feathers of the raven from their meadow.
The raven zigzagged from tree to tree, surveying the stream in the clear morning light. Lionel remembered the raven’s pulling buttons from the straw man’s silk dress. He put this dropped button in his pocket and followed the bird, hoping that it was on its way back to and not away from the meadow. He found himself running to keep up and in no time he stood breathless at the familiar rise that led to the small pool with the waterfall. He climbed the rise, and there, hanging on the slim branch in a tight clump of quaking aspen, was the string of bear claws, exactly where he had left them. Lionel looked to the treetops to thank the bird, but the raven was gone.
Lionel climbed the rise and took the claws from the branch. The leather that held them was wet, but all seemed to be intact. He tied the bear claws around his neck and then dropped to the bank to drink from the cold swirling waters.
When he’d had enough, Lionel rolled over onto his back. He caught his breath, feeling relieved to have recovered the Frozen Man’s gift, and wondering how the raven had happened upon the button that was now in his pocket. Lionel knew that he should immediately turn back and run as fast as he could to rejoin the others, but thought that while he was catching his breath, it wouldn’t hurt to have another look at the lodge that had been their home.
He scrambled to his feet and dropped down into the meadow. Their garden held the last of the season’s offerings, but in the pale light of morning it looked lonely and overgrown with all that had transpired over the last couple of days. Lionel looked at the slumped straw man and thought about the day that his grandfather had sat on the stool weaving it to life; the same stool that Corn Poe had threatened to crack across Mr. Hawkins’s head.
Lionel wandered a bit farther out into the meadow, thinking about Mr. Hawkins and wondering what his life would have been like if those men hadn’t killed his wife. He wondered if Mr. Hawkins, his wife, and Junebug might have liked to live in the little lodge year-round. Lionel thought that he and Beatrice would have, but not anymore. They were back on the run—but where would they run to now?
A commotion from the stream below startled him. He whipped around to see the big, black-eyed elk burst from behind the garden and bolt across a section of the meadow toward the cover of the Great wood. The big elk ran toward the tree line, but then, almost as a second thought, changed direction and ran directly toward the lodge, continuing to the trees that stood behind it and the smokehouse.
Lionel dropped into a crouching position, hiding in the high grass of the meadow, and stared back toward the stream. Something had startled the elk, and there, back in the trees, he saw what it was. Men—government men on horseback, and some on foot.
Heart pounding, Lionel spun around and hurried toward the shelter of the Great wood, but then, like the elk, changed direction and broke toward the lodge. There were more men back in the trees.
He ran toward the lodge, throwing himself against the crooked door, and tumbling into his former home. He rolled to the window and carefully stole a look toward the stream.
The men on horseback appeared on the rise and entered the small meadow. Lionel craned his neck toward the Great wood where he saw more men appear. He dropped from the window and leaned against the lodge’s rough-hewn logs. His heart was racing, and he could hear his own labored breathing. He slowly rose up for another look.
Some of the men had dismounted, and their horses had wandered into the recently neglected garden, helping themselves to the remnants. Lionel thought he caught a glimpse of Brother Finn and the captain himself, but dropped back down before he could be sure. Lionel looked around the lodge, trying to think of what his grandfather would do. He decided to take one more look outside and see if there was a way he could make it to the Great wood. If he could make it to the woods, he could find his way around the meadow and back up to the trail to rejoin Beatrice and Mr. Hawkins.
Peering through the window, Lionel thought he saw a soldier lowering Barney Little Plume from the back of a horse to the ground. Barney’s hands looked as though they were tied behind his back. Lionel looked back toward the stream and the garden. An assemblage of soldiers was now heading directly toward the lodge.
Lionel fell to the floor on the verg
e of tears. He was trapped. He thought about Beatrice and his grandfather and wondered again what they would do. Beatrice wouldn’t have to do anything, because she wouldn’t have gotten herself into this situation. Beatrice wouldn’t have left the bear claws in the first place, let alone taken the time to go swimming in light of all that had happened. And if she had forgotten them, upon return, she would have grabbed the string of claws and left. She wouldn’t have waited around to be joined by these men.
Lionel thought about his grandfather. once again, the only conclusion that Lionel could come to was that his grandfather wouldn’t be in this situation. He would have been more careful with the claws. Lionel had learned so much since he had left school—but what of it could he use now?
He buried his head between his knees and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He felt the gold button that the raven had dropped…then he thought of the elk…the elk…
Be aware of what’s around you and watch. Listen to the animals, the wind, the mountains.
His grandfather was right. The raven and the elk in their own ways had just warned him. They had told him that there were men in the woods.
Grandpa’s words ran through his head. His eyes darted anxiously around the abandoned lodge, finally resting on the slumping chimney. His hand shot down to the raised scar on his leg. The wolverine. Lionel looked once more out the window. The soldiers were almost to the lodge. He dropped back down and scrambled on all fours toward the chimney and the crack—the same crack they figured the wolverine had crawled through. Depending on where you stood in the room, you might not even notice the crevice, let alone think that something—or someone—could actually fit there.
Lionel climbed up onto the chimney and then pulled himself into the wolverine’s passage. Just as he disappeared into the damp, musty space, he heard the men kick in the lodge’s crooked door, followed by the sound of smashing glass. Lionel could see the soldiers in slivers of glimpses between the crumbled rocks.
“Would you take a look at this dump?” one of the soldiers snarled. Lionel knew that voice; it washed over him like a nightmare. It was Jenkins, Sergeant Haskell Jenkins.
Lionel saw the sneering grin and coarse black patch as Jenkins flashed across the chimney’s fissure. There he was, smashing and breaking his way across their lodge.
Lionel’s fear turned to anger. He wanted to attack Jenkins where he stood for what he had tried to do to his sister, but thought better of it. Lionel knew he had to get out of there. He had to find and warn Beatrice. He had to warn Mr. Hawkins, Junebug, Corn Poe, and even Tom Gunn.
“Jenkins, Sergeant Jenkins.” Lionel heard a familiar voice entering the lodge. He looked toward the door and saw that it was the captain who addressed Jenkins, and he did not sound happy.
“What on earth is that boy doing bound, Sergeant Jenkins?” the captain demanded, hooking his thumb to the yard where Barney now stood under guard.
“I consider him a hostile, sir,” Jenkins answered.
“A hostile?” the captain responded in disbelief. “That’s preposterous. He’s only a boy.”
“There were plenty of ‘boys’ who went hostile during the campaign,” Jenkins said in a rather matterof-fact tone.
“The campaign is over. It has been for some time. As a matter of fact, Sergeant, I can’t quite recall your being there.” The captain turned to the other soldiers who stood in the doorframe. “I want that boy released immediately. And see to it that he’s cleaned up and fed.”
The other soldiers scurried, leaving Jenkins and the captain alone in the lodge.
“And where have you been, Sergeant? You were supposed to scout ahead and return to report to me. That was over two days ago,” the captain growled.
“Why, we were right on their trail, sir. I thought it best under the circumstances to continue the pursuit. If I hadn’t been forced back to meet ya here, I’d bet my last silver dollar I’d have them horse thieves in custody already.”
“That is not the issue,” the captain shot back.
“You were under orders, and I’d be within my rights to relieve you of your duties.”
Lionel watched the captain circle the room. He looked older. He looked tired.
“I want a full report when we return to the post,” the captain continued. “Your conduct is suspect and highly unorthodox.”
“Aye, Captain, as unorthodox as it may be, I’ve been charged with the return of stolen property and the apprehension of horse thieves, and that is what I intend to do.”
“That you were,” the captain countered, “but you will do so under my command and in a manner befitting a solider. Is that understood, Sergeant?”
Jenkins spat on the floor and moved toward the door.
“Sergeant, is that understood?”
“Aye, Captain. Clear as crystal. Now, sir, beggin’ the captain’s pardon, I’d like to continue the search. I believe them perpetrators to be in the immediate vicinity.”
Jenkins gave the captain a halfhearted salute and then left. Lionel sat silently watching as the captain returned the salute to no one, and then continued to examine the lodge. He wandered over to the chimney and stood dangerously close to where Lionel was hiding.
Lionel wondered if he should reveal himself and try to explain to the captain what had happened and why he had taken Ulysses. Lionel liked the captain and was sure that he missed the big horse. He wanted to let the captain know that he had continued to care for the horse in his absence.
But the captain turned and walked abruptly out the door, leaving Lionel to consider making a run for it and trying to lose the men in a break for the Great wood. This seemed unlikely, as the voices of the soldiers had spread out from one side of the meadow to the other. Lionel could hear Jenkins’s voice above all of the others as he barked orders urging his men to prepare to continue their mission of returning the captain’s horse and apprehending those responsible for its theft.
There had to be another way. Lionel ran his hands down the contours of the chimney’s piled river rocks and felt tufts of hair from the wolverine among the cobwebs and dust. There was a steady flow of air on his wet moccasins, so he crouched down on his knees to try to get his head in a position to investigate. He felt the air streaming with greater force and realized that the crack in the chimney continued to the exterior of the lodge. Lionel contorted his body, twisting himself to where he was practically standing on his head. He could see a small ray of light from outside and decided that he had to get out of the chimney so he could run back to warn the others.
Lionel moved further into the crevice and inched himself toward the light. The space was cramped, but he pulled himself along on his belly, quietly moving small piles of debris as he went. He sensed movement above him as he crawled, and when he reached the light of the small opening, he stopped.
The rock above seemed to be alive, moving almost as if it were breathing. Lionel’s eyes adjusted to the light and he realized that it wasn’t the chimney that was moving but a swarm of daddy longlegs dangling in a tight bunch just inches above his head. Lionel wasn’t afraid of spiders, but this was a lot of them. He quickly moved forward until he was in a position to push his head out the crevice at the back of the chimney and make a break for the tree line that stood ten paces from where he was hiding.
Lionel could see the soldiers readying themselves from his new hiding place. He tried to get a count for Mr. Hawkins, but with all the movement and his limited view, he had trouble keeping track of the men. He thought that there must have been at least twelve, but that there could be as many as twenty. All this in pursuit of Beatrice, Lionel, and Ulysses; Lionel figured that the captain must really miss his horse.
He crawled out as far as he dared and eyed a break in the trees. He took another look at the soldiers and saw that Brother Finn was bringing Barney up from the stream. Barney’s clothes were torn and bloody, and his face was battered, cut, and bruised, just like Tom Gunn’s. Lionel didn’t feel particularly friendly toward Barne
y—or Tom Gunn, for that matter. After all, they had been the ones who had joined up with the government to collect money at his and Beatrice’s expense. But he still felt sorry for them. Barney looked scared despite now being untied, and Lionel noticed that he stuck as close as he could to Brother Finn’s and the captain’s sides.
Lionel looked back toward the woods and decided that it was now or never—he had to make a break for it. He pulled himself forward out of the hole and into the high grass that stretched up the back side of the exterior chimney. There, out of the corner of his eye, Lionel saw a soldier coming toward him. He felt a leaping in his throat. This wasn’t just any soldier. It was Jenkins’s buddy from the water trough, Private Samuel Lumpkin.
He thought about pulling himself back into the safety of the chimney, but a moment later, without thinking, sprang to his feet and ran to the trees. Lionel heard a rough, grumbled burst of surprise from Lumpkin as he ran across the open section of the meadow. Lionel looked over his shoulder as he burst into the shade of the wood to see Lumpkin raise his rifle and aim toward the thick foliage. He aimed it at Lionel.
“Stop!” Private Lumpkin yelled, but Lionel kept running.
Lionel heard the first bullet whiz wildly over his head, followed by the echoing crack of the rifle. Lumpkin fired again, prompting shots from other soldiers, but Lionel kept running. In the distance, he could hear the captain calling for the men to stop firing, but another volley hurtled past him and he watched the bullets bite into the soft bark flesh of the trees that stood before him.
Lionel continued to run. He could hear the men enter the woods behind him and then heard men on horses. The horsemen had trouble following Lionel directly as he ran, jumped, slid, and climbed his way across the Great wood, but he couldn’t shake them. He dropped, stumbling down into a gully, and then scrambled up the other side. He saw the men drop into the gully, so he quickly changed direction by climbing up the exposed roots of a toppled tree and running the length of its fallen torso toward its upper branches.
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