by lake, e a
Jeremy started walking again leaving her behind. “I liked her, she was nice.”
Betsi’s face soured as she watched him move along. “Of course you liked her,” she replied, mostly to herself, “mousy and short and kind of plump. Just the way you like your women. She didn’t have an opinion on anything. So of course you liked her.” Finally, she slowly followed him, hoping her unkind words fell on his usual deaf ears.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The harvest, like tide and time, moved forward. A small group of people – cutters they were called – removed the vegetables from their stalks and left them on the ground. The pickers came next, close behind the first group. These were the people who actually harvested the bounty and placed it into basket and crates. From there, the runners took over. These were mostly younger men with strong backs. After hoisting the harvest onto their shoulders, the food was carried to the nearest gate and given to the rackers. This group accounted for half the camp’s population. They took the bounty from the baskets and carefully laid it in the racks that ran along the inside of the walls. The last job of harvest was left mostly to the older folks – turners. These people were responsible to ensure that the vegetables be turned constantly so as to dry at an even rate.
Together, the group worked well. Most harvests took two days to pick, and weather permitting, about a week to properly dry before it was stored for the winter and distribution throughout the year. This year however, problems arose at every corner.
“Eight of the straps are broken throughout the racks,” Grace Dillion explained to her husband Dave, the garden foreman. “You need to slow down the cutters until Charles and Greta can find replacement for the straps.”
Dave shook her head and spit at his feet. “This should all be fixed by now. What’s the delay?” he asked.
Grace’s head swiveled right and then left, checking to see who was within earshot. “The assembly’s been busy the last few days. Something’s got them in a tizzy. Started about the time that family showed up.”
Dave moved ahead of his wife, turning to listen and nod occasionally. Grace watched as he inspected the legs on several of the racks. “We got more trouble too, now,” he snorted. She watched as the frustration rose on his face like tall thunderheads. “I gotta find Steven. Half these legs need to be replaced,” he said, appearing on the edge of an explosion.
“See if you can find Cara too, dear,” she called. “I could use her help in a couple spots here.” She watched as he curtly waved at her without looking. “Oh, and remember to stop the cutters; we’re not ready.”
Inspecting the ropes that served as the straps to the front of the drying racks, Cara wondered what else could go wrong. But she knew she couldn’t think like that, lest more trouble find its way to her.
“And Dave said half the legs need replacing on the racks, too,” Grace stated. “We should have been looking at this during the summer I suppose. But we were too fat and happy in my way of thinking.”
Turning slowly to face her sometimes friend, Cara composed herself. “That would have been a good project for you and Dave I believe. I mean, the garden foreman should be in charge of the drying racks as well, at least I always thought that was the way it worked.”
Grace scoffed at the idea. “I always believed it was Carol Johnson’s job to do this,” she huffed. “Being the harvest chairwoman and all.”
“Regardless,” Cara replied, trying to redirect the discussion, “we see the issue now and we’ll just have to get it fixed. Hopefully today or first thing tomorrow. We don’t want to get behind and miss this nice stretch of sunny weather, right?”
Playing with a broken strap, Grace tossed it aside. “Perhaps your man and his foreman could skip a day in the woods and take care of this all quick like?”
Cara cringed at the reference to Steven. She still needed to talk to him about mending the fence and making more arrows. “Steven has a couple of other chores that need his attention right now.” Twisting her lips, she tried to come up with a solution. “Perhaps two of his other men can help.”
Grace looked slack-jawed at the camp leader. “Who’s gonna haul wood then? Dave told me they were already short and looking for more help. Perhaps if they wouldn’t have cut so far away from the camp, this wouldn’t be an issue.”
Boiling inside like a steam kettle, Cara tried to keep her frustration locked away. “Grace,” she began. “We need to work together. We all need to work together. We need solutions, not people pointing out all of our problems right now.” Nodding thoughtfully, she smiled at the other woman. “Please go find two young men and take charge. Tell them exactly what you want done and how it is to be accomplished. Stay on them and don’t let them dawdle. Can you do that, please?”
The corners of Grace’s eyes narrowed. “So, I would be the foreman for this fix?”
“Absolutely,” Cara replied.
“And I can choose any two younger lads?”
Cara grinned. “You’re the boss.”
Happy, Grace turned to leave. “I’ll go grab your boy Joshua and his lazy friend Calvin in that case. That pair could stand some good hard work.”
Cara squeezed her fists into little balls, fighting back the need to scream. Of course that rotten woman would do this, she seethed to herself. She was probably planning this all along. “That’s fine,” she called out as happy as she could to Grace. “I’m sure the boys will be good helpers.”
Grace turned and waved back at Cara. “Oh I doubt it, but I’ll get something out of those two.”
Shaking, Cara turned and counted to five…and then 10. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her tiny body convulsed with anger and frustration. She opened her eyes to let out a small scream and was greeted with the staring face of her husband mere inches away. Cara jumped and screamed, but cut it short by slapping her hand over her mouth.
He continued to stare at her intensely, almost smirking. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing that a good and thorough thrashing of you won’t help,” she sputtered, pushing him playfully away. After he leaned back, she reached out for his touch again, a hug perhaps.
“Well,” he started slowly. “I see Grace Dillion walking off one direction all smug, and I see you here about ready to burst,” a final squeeze and he released her. “Well, two and two are always four.”
“Were you aware that some of the straps are bad on the rack?” He shrugged looking at the racks closest to them. “And some of the legs need replacing.”
Kneeling to inspect several legs, he peeked up at her. “I can take care of this crap. I’ll go grab George and we’ll have all this fixed before supper tonight.” Seeing the doubt in his wife’s eyes, he rose to confront her. “Don’t think we can?”
Cara hopped past him to go deal with other issues. “Oh, I don’t doubt you can. It’s just that Grace went off to find Calvin and Joshua to help. So, I’ll let you deal with her when she comes back with them.” Cara chuckled and trotted off to find Dave Dillion. There would be cutting in the gardens again by midday.
Chet’s long boney finger waggled between Steven and George as he tried to hold their waning attention. “Which part don’t you get?” he asked. “The fence or the arrows?” He watched as the pair looked at one another and then at the fence. Steven moved closer to the enclosure and kicked the bottom of several upright posts.
“We got about a dozen logs to replace as far as I can tell,” Steven stated. “Making the front gate tighter won’t be hard. But the arrow part puzzles me.” George nodded at Steven.
“Why’s that?” Chet asked.
George removed his old grubby ball cap and rubbed his hair with his sleeve. “The last guy who made us arrows is dead, if you will recall. That Fartly or Wheatly or whatever his name was,” George answered.
“Cole Dartman,” Steven added. “But the point is, yes, he died two winters ago. I’m not sure we have anyone with the right touch here anymore, Chet.”
“Can’t we fake it?” Chet
asked, his frustration rising.
Steven’s hand moved from his mouth as he flipped his fingers at George. “Trouble is,” he replied, pondering the idea, “those things explode if they’re not strong enough. The wood has to be cut and treated just right, otherwise it could hurt the shooter.”
George added his agreement. “You see Chet, it takes a special hardwood to make those arrows. I know there’s some out there. I just don’t know exactly which it is.” He paused, studying Chet’s concerned face. “And from the sounds of things, we need them pretty quick here.”
Chet leaned into the pair like he was about to tell an important secret. “Well, we might not be shooting them at all, fellows. Might just want them for show.” Going between the pair, Chet saw the questioning in their eyes. Finally, he gave Steven’s shoulder a hardy pat. “Go talk to Cara about it. Maybe she has an idea.”
Chet watched as Steven looked away and then back at the fence. “We ain’t gonna fight them. Tarlisch will send enough armed men to make that clear,” Steven said. “Regardless of what Cara thinks, we need to get our stories straight on where Talbot Bond went off to. That’s our best defense against Tarlisch.” Staring at George and finally at Chet, Steven lowered his voice. “Probably our only defense.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Steven watched as Cara paced around their small cabin. Every so often, she stopped and faced him, as if she were about to say something. Then, just as quickly, she shook her head and resumed pacing. When the door burst open, Cara jumped. Seeing Rose wander in carrying flowers, she smiled and knelt to greet the child.
“Did you pick these for me?” Cara asked the beaming child.
“I did,” she proudly replied.
Cara gave her a quick kiss and took the fall foliage. “I’ll put them in some water later, so they’ll make our home pretty all fall. Isn’t that a good idea, Daddy?” Cara asked Steven.
“Oh, wonderful,” he replied. He wanted to continue this discussion with Cara, not compliment his daughter on what a sweet child she was. “Why don’t you run along sweetie, and go pick some flowers for Grandma Swanson? She hasn’t been feeling real good lately. And some flowers from a pretty little girl would make her feel much better I think.”
Standing on her tiptoes, Rose first gave her mother a kiss and then her father. Cara turned her for the door and shooed her away with a kind smile. Turning back to her husband, he watched the smile disappear.
“Why no on the arrows?” she demanded. “We need something so they think we can defend ourselves.”
Steven kept his face neutral. Given her current mood, a smile on his part just might be answered with a slap. If he showed too much displeasure in his response and came across as condescending, the result could be the same. Watching her resume pacing, he eased into his approach. “Let’s be honest for a minute. Tarlisch has every gun in Salt Lake now. He’s pretty sure no one else has much for weaponry. After 12 years of no new ammo being made, he’s right, I would imagine.”
“But if he felt we were even a small threat…” Cara stopped, realizing how desperate she sounded. “What are we going to do?”
“What happened to Talbot Bond?” he asked.
Seeing her green eyes flick back and forth, he noticed Cara’s fear.
“Wyoming? No wait, Colorado?”
“Yes, he took off for Colorado,” Steven reiterated.
“What about the truth?” she asked under her breath.
Steven hardened his face. “The truth will get us all killed. Tarlisch wants revenge. As long as he’s on Talbot Bond’s trail, he’ll save his revenge for him. If he doesn’t get his justice with Bond,” he paused, setting his jaw, “well, may God have mercy on the next people he meets.”
After walking more than long enough, Betsi stopped and turned to Jeremy. “A mile? Is that what he said? We’ve been walking for too long. We should have been there by now.”
Jeremy passed his aluminum water bottle ahead and surveyed the scene. “I don’t think we made it to the bottom of the lake yet, babe.”
“Longest damn lake in all of Utah, in that case,” Betsi spouted. “And it feels like we’ve been walking uphill the whole time. Maybe that danged scout could have mentioned that.”
Seeing her husband reach for her hand, she turned away. She wanted to make it look like she hadn’t noticed his sincere gesture. She wanted to be mad for a few minutes; she deserved as much. And he wasn’t about to talk her back into a good mood, not this time.
“Give it another half hour, Bets. We’ll get there,” he encouraged. She watched as he trudged forward alone. Shaking her head, she joined him.
Kneeling in the brush, the pair checked out the flurry of activity to their east. A group of men, seven in total, worked on a woodpile. What exactly they were doing was up for debate. Betsi thought they were making smaller piles from the large pile. Jeremy, as usual, had no idea what might be going on.
“If they eventually pick those piles up and head south, we need to tail them,” she whispered. “I just don’t understand why they’re making the small piles.”
With his mouth gaping, Jeremy rose slightly and studied the process. After carefully eyeing the operation, he knelt beside his wife. “I think they’re loading up, well, it almost looks like little sleds.” Puzzled, he gawked at the workers again. “I wonder how far they are from camp? And why would they cut wood so far away they had to rig up something to haul it with? And...?”
A stern look cut him off. “Whatever, Daniel Boone. We just need to follow them to camp, hopefully Camp Nine. Right?”
“Sure,” he responded, still watching the wood being stacked some 50 yards in front of them.
When the seven woodsmen assembled around their small piles, Betsi nudged Jeremy. He seemed amazed as three groups of two began pulling small sleds heaped with cut wood.
Shaking her head at him, she slowly rose. “Come on,” she called in a low tone. “Quit being such a little boy and admiring their work; we need to keep them in sight until we get near the camp.” Watching him stand, she continued. “We’ll let them get inside and then give it a few minutes before we make our approach.”
“What will our reception be there you suppose?”
Betsi turned and grinned. If only he knew…anything. If only he paid attention…ever. “They mentioned the name of the leader back at Camp Eight. Cara Wake, I’m pretty sure they said.” She grinned again to give the impression she had a clever plan. In reality, she had a superb scheme ready to play.
“So when we get to the gate, let me go ahead. I’ll ask for her by name,” Betsi said, noticing his agreement. “If they ask, I’ll just tell them I know her from a while back. Who knows, maybe it’ll be someone I even recognize. You never know, right?”
Jeremy lightly tapped her back, showing his ascent with the plan. “That’s good, Betsi. That’s really good. And if she doesn’t recognize you, maybe you could just say you were mistaken.”
Betsi’s grin grew. “Yeah, that helps. Thanks, honey.” But, of course, she had already planned on that angle.
Walking was slow, far too slow for Betsi. The men would pull for a while, then pause for a long break. When they started pulling their full sleds again, they moved at a slower pace. Several times, she wanted to rush from the brush and scream at them to hurry up. Even she and Jeremy could have moved faster with the loads.
Staying in the heavy undergrowth made the pair undetectable. Even when Jeremy tripped on a windfall that Betsi had easily stepped over, the crew of seven went about their task, oblivious to the pair. Cresting the third of three small hills, Betsi spied the camp to the east. Finally, after three days of walking through the woods, her desired goal was in plain sight. Though she would have preferred to run ahead and beat the woodsmen back to the camp, she decided to stick with her plan and wait until they had cleared the gates.
This camp was different than the others they had seen. The first thing she noticed was the logs sticking out of the ground. All others had their
posts lying one on top of another. She wondered if this took less lumber, but shook the thought away. This method most likely allowed for easier replacement of bad posts. She knew this because she watched four men working in two spots, both setting new posts into the ground. Either method was probably fine, she thought. Though this method didn’t look as nice as placing logs horizontal, it was more efficient in other ways.
From her position in the brush, Betsi could see two openings for the camp. The first, and closest, was what she believed to be the main gate. Perhaps eight feet wide, it could accommodate a wagon passing through easily. Stacked next to the gate was more roughly cut lumber. She couldn’t tell its purpose, but she could see how the ends of the logs, pines she thought, were as white as afternoon clouds. This told her they had just been cut. She could swear there was still sap running down the face of the cut. But she was too far away to be sure.
The second opening puzzled her. No more than three feet wide, the opening seemed to overlap so as not to let anyone walk straight into the camp. While it must serve some purpose, Betsi couldn’t think of one offhand.
Watching as the woodsmen arrived at the gate, they stopped again, this time to converse with several people standing in the main opening. Perhaps they had been awaiting the group’s arrival, maybe not though. One of the seven waved his arms in an exaggerated way while speaking to a smaller woman. Still too far away to make out any facials features, she wondered if a brother and younger sister, or perhaps a young pair of lovers, were hashing things out.
After a few moments, the group continued inside and the small woman began circling around the outside of the fence. With determined steps, she made her way to one of the men on the north wall, standing outside the fence. With hands on hips, Betsi could hear some type of discussion. Whoever this young lady was, she was spirited in the very least.
