by Nancy Radke
That bear had come in a’swinging, knocking everything every which way. I hardly knew where to begin. I retrieved our blankets out of the snow and hung them up where it was dry, under a small remaining part of our shelter. I rebuilt the fire, and cut us some bear steaks, putting them on to roast.
All the while I listened for Luke. It was getting dark.
I cut myself a crutch, so I could hobble around easier, and tried to pick up as much things as I could before it got too dark. I hoped Luke could find me again and didn’t have to spend the night without any supplies.
When I did hear a horse coming, I drew back from camp and readied my rifle. It was Luke, riding Pride bareback, and leading Rosie. I put my rifle down, glad his luck had held. We would have had a hard go of it, walking, me with a busted leg.
The horses snorted and rolled their eyes, not wanting to get close to the bear carcass. Luke tied them as far away from it as he could.
“I caught Rosie pretty quick, but Pride ran until his rope caught and held him. I don’t think he wanted any part of bear.”
“I don’t blame him. You want to eat first?” I asked.
“No, I’ll rebuild this shelter a little, then eat. If it snows again tonight, we’ll need it.”
The meat was getting done, so I handed him a strip. “Eat as you work. You’ll do better.”
He nodded, eating as he gathered some poles and remade our shelter. It was past dark by the time he had put it all back together again, but the meat was done, he and I had both eaten, and I was busy cooking more meat to take with us. The bear had smashed one of our pots so badly, I didn’t think we could ever get it straightened up again, but Luke took a small rock and knocked it into it, then a larger rock and then a larger one until it was sort of pot-shaped again. It wouldn’t have won any prizes, but it did hold water.
“We make a good team,” I said.
“Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour,” he quoted. “For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.” I nodded. I knew that verse, too.
I also knew the verse that came next. “Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone?” I wondered if Luke thought about it, but just didn’t say it.
We didn’t have many books, so those we had got read and reread, including the Bible. It was as familiar to me as it was to most folks those days. With its moral teachings, it kept most of us on the right path, and for those folks who didn’t walk that path, we had our guns.
With the shelter remade, Luke skinned out the bear by the light of the fire. There was plenty of meat, and I cooked it as good as I could, in the high altitude.
“I’ll make a couple of bags out of this hide and put some meat in them,” Luke said. “We’ll carry it to the next camp and cook more there. It’ll cook faster when we get lower. Sear it, if you can.”
I did, laying it on the hot coals enough to sear the outside and keep the juices from running. It finally put out the fire, but we were ready to go by that time.
I would have liked to go soak in that hot spring one more day before we left, but didn’t say anything to Luke.
He must have felt the same way. We got all packed up, ready to go, then he said, “Let’s stop by the spring for a couple of hours. We’ll ride over there this time, have our gear with us.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I asked him to go in first this time. I wanted to come out warm and stay warm a bit while riding down the trail.
It was too bad I couldn’t have one of these in the middle of our ranch. I could get used to it.
After I had a good soak, Luke helped me put the splint back on and lifted me onto Rosie again, then we rode back to the trail and started on down.
“No wagon would ever go on this trail,” I said, as we fought our way over fallen trees and rocks.
We met the next Indian less than a mile down the trail. He waved his hand at us, not his lance, so we rode closer, our rifles ready.
He had a tattered blanket wrapped around his body, no paint on his face, and looked like he had barely made it through the winter.
Pa had taught me some of the Indian sign language, but it didn’t take that knowledge to know what he wanted. He pointed to his mouth, patted his stomach and then pointed to our bags of bear meat.
I indicated that the dead bear was just up the trail and he nodded, walked past us and headed up the trail. I was glad that the food was not going to go to waste, as food was scarce in the winter and almost so in the early spring. Summer was always plentiful, and fall had seeds and nuts ready for the picking. But winter was starvation time, and that man might have a family somewhere waiting.
Our tracks would lead him first to the hot spring and then to the bear. I hoped he got warm while he was at it.
Traveling in snow that is not very deep is dangerous, as it covers up holes, especially when we came to a stream and had to cross. If there was a log across the stream, the trail would often go to the log, since foot traffic would use the log. We would have to pick our way down the bank, into the water, across the stream and then up into the snow again, unable to see the footing. Our horses stumbled and slid, for a little snow is worse than a lot.
We didn’t make much progress that day, but we did get off that tall mountain and into a valley. We’d have to go over another one and then more, but the snow was thin enough in the valley that the horses could knock it aside and find grass. We got off and let them graze at the end of Luke’s long rope. I pulled some cooked meat out of my pocket, wrapped in cloth. We wiped it clean in the snow and ate while the horses ate.
“We should make camp before dark,” Luke said, looking around the grassy area. “Just not here. How’s your leg doing?”
“Better each day.” I was looking around, too. “How about that group of trees over there, by the cliff? It looks like the snow didn’t reach into there.”
“Mighty dark looking. May be a cave.”
He took his rifle and walked over to the spot, then disappeared.
CHAPTER SIX
I waited for him to come out. When he didn’t, I led the horses that way, hobbling along, using the crutch stick to keep the pressure off my leg.
It wasn’t much of a crutch, just a stick with a fork to it, and it hurt me under my arm where I had to put pressure. But I’d cut it the right length and it was better than hopping. It was a cave, sure enough. It probably would have gone unnoticed, except the dark mouth of the cave showed up against the snow.
“Luke!” I called.
“Here! Wait!”
I waited until he came back out to the front, a pile of dry tinder in his arms.
“I think this is where that bear came from. It really smells in there. He had been sleeping on this wood. It can’t get any drier. We’ll make camp here tonight and put our fire back around that corner. I think it will stay hidden that way. Once the horses have eaten, we’ll bring them into the front part.”
“It sounds good to me.”
“There are remains of old campfires back there, soot on the ceiling, so we won’t be the first to use this.”
“I expect all the good spots have been found.”
He walked back around the corner, then returned without the kindling.
“Watch the horses. I’m going back to gather more wood.”
It was a good spot to camp. We could only be attacked from one side. It was a bad spot to camp, as we had no way of getting away if we were attacked. We would have to fight our way out.
Luke had tied the horses, one on each end of the rope. If they did start to run away, it would catch on something and stop them. I sat at the entrance to the cave and watched the sides of the small grassy area to make sure a predator, human or otherwise, left them alone.
After awhile Luke came outside, nodded to me, took the axe off Pride’s pack, and started collecting branches to add to the fire.
&nb
sp; He swung the axe like a true woodsman. Two cuts and he was through anything small. No wasted hacking, no bouncing axe head to fly back and cut him. He had sharpened the blade while we were in our snow camp, and it sliced through those branches like butter. He carried several armloads in, then came out, looking satisfied.
“Those are wet, but the dry wood should give us enough coals to get it to burn. I’m going to cut up a log I found, and it will give us a sustaining fire, enough so we can get the rest of the meat cooked. I’ll be out here for awhile, so will watch the horses. Why don’t you get the fire started, while I bring in the supplies and cut up the log?”
I nodded, got to my feet and started in. The floor was rough, making me stumble.
“Forgot about that,” Luke said, and picked me up in his arms and carried me across the rough cave and deeper inside. He had to feel his way, kicking one foot around until he found a place to put it, then doing the same with the other. If we had had a pine knot or any kind of torch, I could have gone in myself.
You couldn’t see the stones and other obstructions going into the cave, because the light was behind us. Once inside, you could look back and see everything. I could see why it had taken him so long to go in the first time.
I made sure I hung onto him, to help him, while not putting any pressure on his wounded shoulder. He was strong, deep of chest and shoulder. No wonder he handled that axe like it was a stick.
Luke put me down where he had gathered the first bit of wood. You could see the area had been used before for campfires.
“There you go,” he said.
“Thanks. I’m glad I didn’t have to navigate that.”
I took my flint out of my pocket, struck it, and the fire caught hold immediately. I never left my flint anywhere but in the poke in my pocket. That and a small amount of dry kindling. But I had plenty of kindling here, and once the fire was going, I took some of the excess kindling and put it in my poke. Fine, dry wood sometimes made the difference between living or not, so I dumped out the dry threads of bark I had in my poke, and replaced it with the thin shavings I took from the dry wood.
Then I put my poke away.
Luke watched me get things going, then nodded and left.
I fed the fire a few sticks at a time, nursing it until it was going strong. Then I added some of the small branches Luke had brought in.
The fire lit up the inside of the cave. I could see it extended further back, which is where the bear must have slept.
I had things going pretty well when Luke came in carrying my saddle and the blankets.
“Where do you want things?” he asked. I pointed to a spot and he set things down, pulled out my pot and carried it back outside with him. He brought back both his pot and mine heaped with snow, and I put them near the fire to melt. He grabbed one of my sticks that was only burning on one end and took it back into the dark outer cave with him. Then he brought in the rest of the gear, laughing.
“Wished I had thought of that sooner. My shins are protesting. Do you want anything else?”
“Just bring the meat bags closer.”
He did so.
“That’s all,” I said. He nodded and went back out to stay with the horses until dark.
“Mahala!”
“Yes.”
“Bring another torch. I’m bringing the horses in all the way. I want them to be able to see.”
I had found a particularly pitch-filled branch, and set it in the fire until it lit. Then I carried it to the point where it lit the outer cave.
Luke brought the horses in, one at a time, and they picked their way carefully across the rock-strewn floor.
He led them to the rear of the cave, took the saddle blankets, and rubbed each horse dry.
“It’s starting to rain outside,” he said. “Warming up. That should get rid of the snow.”
He looked around. “I think we should try staying here a couple of days. Get that meat dry and ready to take with us. Give your leg a chance to heal. Let the horses graze. It will be harder to see the cave once the snow melts.” He brought in my pine torch, walked into the deeper cave, then came back and extinguished it.
“Go any further?”
“Yes, but it’s just a crack. I don’t think we could crawl up. We couldn’t take the horses, that’s for sure.”
“Does the fire show from the outside?” I asked.
“Not right now. I’ll check when it gets full dark.”
We ate our fill of bear meat. I piled the raw meat onto the coals as they formed and started drying some meat to take with us.
Luke put some of the smaller branches into a pile, making a bed, then started making a second one.
“Just one bed,” I said.
He looked at me quizzically.
“We’ve already done it, and it works fine. We can worry about propriety when we aren’t on the trail. I trust you to keep your hands to yourself.”
He nodded. He had already seen my ankles and legs, parts we women were supposed to keep covered or be branded “loose.” I was anything but loose, but it was foolish to sleep cold when we had the two of us.
When Pa and I had planned this trip, he and I both knew that I needed to dress like a boy, so that I would be able to ride a’straddle on the horse. Otherwise I would be more of a hindrance than a help.
I had packed my dress when we left Missouri, and tucked my hair up into my hat for the first few hundred miles until we got clear of people. That dress had been on the pack horse we lost.
I’d have to get Luke to go into civilization first and buy me one, so I could go in as a woman and not a hussy. People put so much weight on appearances. I would have to be careful what it looked like when Luke and I reached where we were going. Gossips loved to turn necessity into sin.
He would make some woman a fine husband, if he didn’t love that gold pan more. He’d probably end up an old bachelor miner, broke and wandering from one strike to another.
Then again, if his luck held, he could hit it rich before he turned thirty.
“How old are you, Luke?” I asked as we arranged the blankets and got ready to lay down.
“Twenty-three. You?”
“Seventeen. No, I think I’m eighteen now. I should’ve had a birthday sometime last week.”
We got settled in, warm and snug, our rifles nearby and a stick to poke up the fire with.
“You went to war?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Which side?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. I guess not.” No more than it mattered that we killed some Indians and not others. If a man came at you trying to kill you, you defended yourself.
“Right after the war, thieving gangs of outlaws rode through Missouri, looting and killing. They came through our town, but the town folks picked up their guns and killed the members of a couple of gangs. They rode clear of our town after that, looking for people who wouldn’t fight back.
“Some people treated them as heros, but they were just murdering skunks, bullies who used intimidation to get what they wanted. Regular folks, after the war, disbanded and each went their separate ways. They weren’t out to kill anyone, just putting their lives back in order.”
“My older brothers were on one side and me and my younger brother on the other. I chose to fight for the Union, as I believed in my country. But I could see their reason to fight against it, when it violated the constitution.”
“The Union was trying to end slavery,” I said.
“They chose a bloody way to do it. It’s hard to legislate morality. People are not going to change overnight just because one side won.”
“But the Union won.”
“It did. I believe God has a plan for this country, Mahala. Our early founders believed that, too. Ma made us read a lot of their writings. Did you know that the Indians who targeted Washington during the French and Indian War, thought he was invincible? Their arrows couldn’t kill him. He wrote about some things that happened which
shouldn’t have happened. Decisions he made. British decisions which turned in Washington’s favor. This country is blessed. I wanted it to stay together.” He paused. “Who did you want to win?”
“I couldn’t tell. So I prayed for God to pick the victor. I think He did.”
“You believe in God, too?” he said.
“Yes. And I don’t really believe in luck.”
“Why not?”
“Every situation almost, you can look at in two ways. One way you were lucky my pa came. The other way you were unlucky the bear came in the first place. It just depend on how you want to look at it.”
“I know one way I’m lucky.”
“What is that?” I asked him.
“I’m lucky to be cuddled next to a sweet smelling girl instead of some buckskin-clad skunk who snores.”
I laughed.
“Or out here on the trail with no one at all,” he added. “Traveling alone didn’t bother me when I first left home. Mark and John were going to come with me, then they decided to stay behind when they found out I was headed for the gold fields.”
“Well, without you I’m sure I’d have died on that trail. But you make your own luck, Luke. It’s called being prepared.”
“Or looking at the right side of things?”
“Or working your angel overtime. There’s nothing like a little danger to bring out the prayers.”
“Amen to that. I’ll watch for awhile.”
We took turns watching through the night, keeping the fire going. Once when Luke first woke me I took off the drier meat and put on some fresh to dry out. I wasn’t doing a perfect job of curing it, just getting it so it wouldn’t spoil on us. I was cooking it, but gently, thin strips that wouldn’t hold onto the moisture. The driest ones I packed in our saddlebags. Pliable, not brittle.
We spent three days there, as the rain came down hard. The horses didn’t mind getting wet, and we put them out on the grass, and they got their bellies full. We ate bear meat and got our bellies full.
My leg got better. I got all the meat cooked and most of it dry. I washed out our socks and laid them up to dry on the rocks, away from the meat. The rest of our clothes dried on us.
