‘Called me “Rousse”, the Frenchies, on account of the red beard,’ he went on. ‘Only found out what it meant when the Injuns started calling me “Flame Beard”. Frenchies laughed at that for months. Different you see, old girl, but then the same.’
In the middle of the afternoon, Trapper Watkiss stopped at the place where Jake had made camp the night before. It wasn’t difficult to find the fire or the ham bone that had been dragged about and dumped by the last rodent to get a bite of meat off it. Trapper tethered Sarah and walked around the site, tutting. Eliza waited three or four yards away, relying on a tree for cover.
After he’d kicked over the fire, Trapper rummaged about in one of Sarah’s leather panniers.
‘The boy lit a fire and ate too. Now, let’s see how he got that fire going without a tinderbox.’ Trapper began to dig in the scorched earth. ‘Cleared a patch. Stones might’ve been better.’
The old man thrust his hand into the mulch of dead leaves and then looked into the canopy above. The setting sun was casting light through it at an angle.
‘Without a tinderbox, where’d he find good kindling? Clever.’
Eliza watched.
‘Well, would you credit it?’ Trapper asked Sarah. He held something between his thumb and forefinger, and waggled it at the mule. Then Trapper brought his hand up to his face, as if he was struggling to focus on the thing he held there.
‘Ha! Cotton rags!’ he said. ‘The boy tore the shirt off his back for a bit of tinder. The fire’d keep him warmer than a rag shirt. Ain’t that right, old girl?’
Eliza couldn’t imagine Jake tearing up a borrowed shirt, and then she thought about how carefully her mother had bandaged his left hand to keep his wound clean and free of infection. A cold chill ran down Eliza’s back, and she had visions of Jake suffering from the terrible fever. If he came down with it, in the woods, he’d surely die.
Trapper used a little spade to bury the ham bone, so he wouldn’t be plagued by rodents. Then he made another circuit of the campsite, sniffing around the trees. He stopped when he found what he was looking for.
‘That’s him making water again,’ he said, ‘as sure as I’m standing here.’
Trapper took some more things out of Sarah’s panniers and carried them over to the fallen tree, where he sat down.
‘Even found a place he could sit without getting the damp and cold in his trousers,’ he said. ‘It’s good enough for me, old girl.’ He set down his things and put his tinderbox in his pocket while he collected wood for a fire.
Eliza had thought that Trapper Watkiss would keep tracking until dusk, but he clearly had other ideas. He lit a fire, unpacked some food from his panniers and settled down to supper. She couldn’t quite believe the number of things that he could pack into a pannier. There was cooking equipment, various knives, an axe, spare clothes and his bedroll. She saw a towel too and hoped there might be soap, but, if there was, she never saw it. Eliza wished she was half so well-equipped, and she began to think that the night would stretch on forever without enough to eat, and with nothing at all to do. Besides, she’d been watching and listening to Trapper for long enough to know that he was very good at what he did. She only hoped that she could stay hidden until after he’d found Jake.
Jake kept walking for as long as the sun was up. He’d thought he’d get to the Native settlement sooner, but the long view in front of him never seemed to change, and he wasn’t sure exactly where on the escarpment he was heading for.
By dusk, Jake was tired and his arm was throbbing constantly. He had become used to the sensation as the day wore on. It was almost reassuring, but it was also wearying, and he needed to rest. He hadn’t eaten since the bacon at breakfast. He’d been very hungry and had taken as much as he thought was polite, but that was eight or ten hours ago, and he’d been on his feet all day. He needed to rest, and he needed food.
Jake found a small deadfall of trees, covered in ferns, and planned to make camp. The ground was harder at the higher altitudes, and the mulch of leaves was drier than the muddy undergrowth lower down. Some of the plants and trees also looked familiar. He began to recognize some of the leafy plants that the Natives ate in the settlement. Then he spotted berries on a shrub and recognized them too. He began to gather food, including tubers from below the ground to bake in the bottom of his fire, and he took water from a wellspring. Then he lit a fire, using the knife and a stone and the dry leaves as tinder. He was soon comfortable.
Jake wondered where he’d learned the skills to forage for food and how he knew to smell the plants to make sure they were edible before he cooked them. He banked up his fire so that it would be safe to burn overnight and wrapped himself in layers of clothes and the blanket. Then he settled down to get a good night’s sleep.
Jake awoke with a start in the night. He was up and had the knife in his hand before he even realized that he was awake, his heart pounding in his chest. He heard a snuffling sound and cast his eyes around. The fire was low and the darkness was all-consuming. He could see almost nothing. Something flashed between the trees, three or four yards away. Then there were two more flashes. Whatever was out there had eyes. There was another grunt and a snuffle and then the flashing again. Then reflected firelight glinted off large white teeth.
Jake’s fear subsided as he watched the bear lumbering past his campsite. If the fire had gone out, he might not have been so lucky. When he could no longer hear the snuffling growl and the shuffling gait, Jake built his fire up so that it would burn until dawn and settled back down in his blanket.
Eliza was not nearly as comfortable as Trapper Watkiss. She decided discomfort was a fair punishment for being so mean about Jake.
She ate an apple and the cornbread that nobody had finished the day before, and she began to wonder why she didn’t like Jake, except for the fact that everybody else did. She decided that she owed it to herself to give him another chance.
Eliza had chosen a spot behind a tree, hidden from Trapper Watkiss’s view, but, at the same time, she could take a peek at him whenever she needed reassurance. She also liked watching him and listening to him talking to Sarah.
It crossed Eliza’s mind that she hadn’t heard the old man talking for some time, and she wondered if he was asleep. She listened for a moment, and, hearing nothing, she looked around the tree trunk. Trapper Watkiss wasn’t sitting by the fire. Eliza cast her eyes around the campsite. He wasn’t looking after Sarah, who was munching at the lower branches of one of the trees, and he wasn’t sorting his pile of luggage.
Eliza was suddenly worried. She stood up and, with most of her body still behind the tree, took another good look. She was a couple of feet taller standing, so she had a better view of the campsite.
Trapper Watkiss wasn’t there.
Eliza thought about walking into the camp, but didn’t dare. Then she thought about making an animal noise to see if he would appear, but she wasn’t sure how good her impersonations of animals were.
After two or three minutes of looking into the camp, which was getting darker all the time, Eliza decided on a course of action. She bent down to look for something she could throw. Maybe, if she made Sarah bray, she could catch Watkiss’s attention, wherever he was. The stone had to be big enough to make the mule cry out, but small enough not to hurt her.
Eliza felt around until she found the perfect stone, and then she stood up. She gasped and almost fell straight back down again.
There was the smell to begin with, the sudden sharp tang of dirt and stale food grease, and the sour smell of old sweat. Then there was the grubby red beard and that breath. Eliza took a step backwards, almost tripping over, and she very nearly screamed.
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‘What d’you think you’re doing, boy?’ growled Trapper Watkiss.
Eliza looked down and saw that Trapper had a knife in his hand, which made her gasp again. The old man had been amusing from a distance, but she’d always been afraid of him, and now she was as terrified as she’d ever been.
‘You gonna tell me why you been following me all day, boy?’ asked Trapper, bringing his knife hand up to Eliza’s chest.
‘I … I …’ she began, in a voice that sounded ridiculously high, even for a girl. She swallowed. Her clothes weren’t meant as a disguise, but if Trapper Watkiss thought she was a boy maybe it would be simpler if she went along with it.
Trapper looked right into her eyes and must have been able to see her fear. Surely the old man wouldn’t actually kill her?
‘You fixing to rob me?’ he asked.
‘I’m … I’m a f-friend of J-Jacob Polson,’ Eliza finally managed to stammer out. ‘I only wanted to h-help.’
‘Don’t know you, do I?’ asked Trapper, peering at Eliza.
‘No,’ said Eliza. ‘I’m new. I’m E-Elijah.’ She was beginning to calm down, and Trapper didn’t look like he wanted to kill anyone, not unless he had to.
‘Should give you a good hiding, boy, and run you back home.’
Eliza looked crestfallen.
‘Ain’t got the time. Got that clever boy to find, so you’ll be travelling alongside me. Slow me down, just once, and I’ll leave you out here to fend for yourself.’
‘And when we find him?’ asked Eliza.
‘When we find him, you’d better make him do as I say,’ said Trapper Watkiss. ‘Or I’ll do for you.’
Eliza didn’t have to think twice about Trapper Watkiss’s threat.
The knife still in his hand, he gestured towards the campfire, indicating that Eliza should join him. She shrugged, picked up her things and stepped into the clearing. She figured she had no choice in the matter.
The Garrets didn’t find out that Eliza had left McKenzie’s Prospect until David and Michael arrived home from school that afternoon.
Pius Garret was in the forge. He hadn’t planned to work until Jake was found, but, when it was clear that Trapper Watkiss was going to search for Jake on his own, he had gone back to his anvil. He’d been toiling like ten men all afternoon. He felt totally powerless to help, so he threw all his energy into his work.
Elizabeth Garret had spent most of the day tending the garden, collecting fruit and vegetables and preparing them for storage in the root cellar. Like her husband, all she could do was keep busy while she waited for Jake’s return.
David and Michael walked into the kitchen where their mother poured them tall beakers of milk and put a plate of cookies on the kitchen table.
‘Where’s Eliza?’ she asked.
‘Here,’ said David, spitting crumbs. Michael laughed, causing him to spit crumbs too.
‘Here, where?’ asked their mother, cutting through their mirth.
‘Here, at home, here,’ said Michael.
‘She didn’t come in with you,’ said Mrs Garret.
‘Because she was already here,’ said David.
‘Boys,’ said Mrs Garret in her serious voice, ‘would you please tell me where Eliza is?’
‘Why should we know where Eliza is?’ asked Michael.
The colour started to drain from Mrs Garret’s face.
‘Eliza was supposed to be at school with you today,’ she said. ‘She was supposed to walk you home afterwards.’
‘She wasn’t,’ said Michael.
‘She didn’t,’ added David.
‘Pius!’ called Mrs Garret, her face as white as a sheet. She began to clear the kitchen table, and the boys wondered why she was taking away their half-finished milk and, worse still, the plate of cookies.
‘Pius!’ called Mrs Garret again, scurrying into the forge.
Pius Garret had heard his wife the first time. He’d dropped the horseshoe into the quenching bucket and was taking off his leather apron when she surged into the forge like a whirlwind.
‘Slow down, Elizabeth,’ said Pius, ‘and tell me all about it.’
‘Eliza’s gone!’ said Mrs Garret.
Pius took his wife in his arms and made her tell him everything she knew, which wasn’t much.
‘Go see if she took anything with her,’ said Garret as soon as Elizabeth was a little calmer.
Mrs Garret only needed a minute or two in the loft to know what had happened to Eliza. First, she checked the blanket box, and then she saw the note on her daughter’s pillow.
She read it quickly and took it downstairs for Pius to see.
Dear Mama, Papa and boys,
Please don’t hate me. It’s my fault that Jake left. I told stories about him and the dragons, and set Horace after him. I wish I hadn’t done it. I want to make things right, so I’ve gone to help Trapper Watkiss find him. I’ll bring Jake back, I promise.
Love from,
Eliza
‘Oh no!’ said Pius. ‘I don’t think I could bear to lose another child.’
‘You must get a search party together,’ said Mrs Garret. ‘There’s a couple of hours before it gets dark. McKenzie will help you … He must help you.’
‘Promise you’ll stay with the boys,’ said Pius, jumping up and pulling on his jacket. He got his hat and took the gun off its hook by the door.
‘Can’t we help?’ asked David and Michael.
‘Yes,’ said their mother. ‘You can help by staying home safe with me and doing your chores and your homework and eating all your supper.’
‘That’s not helping,’ said Michael.
‘That’s all the helping you get to do,’ said their father.
With that, Pius Garret went in search of his daughter and of the boy who had begun to plug the hole in his heart caused by the death of his eldest son.
On his way to Main Street, Pius Garret knocked on the doors of his neighbours’ and friends’ homes and soon had a dozen volunteers for a search party.
Lem Sykes was locking up the mercantile as Garret entered.
‘Where’s Mr McKenzie, Lem?’ asked Garret.
Lem noticed the pack on Garret’s shoulders and the gun in his hand.
‘I’m to meet him in the saloon,’ said Lem. ‘Can I help you with something, Mr Garret?’
‘I’m getting up a search party to help Trapper Watkiss find Jake and Eliza,’ said Garret. ‘Don’t you worry, Lem, I’ll find your uncle.’
‘You wouldn’t know where he is, would you?’ someone asked from behind Garret.
‘Mr Haskell,’ said Lem. ‘Uncle Nathan’s headed over to the saloon.’
‘Not to worry,’ said Mr Haskell. ‘Your business seems more urgent than mine, although “sooner is better” as my mother, Mrs Haskell, would say to me. “Sooner is better.”’
‘Why don’t we all walk over?’ asked Garret.
‘You might want to bring all those wonderfully equipped men with you,’ said Mr Haskell. ‘I’m sure Mr McKenzie will send out a search party when he hears what I have to say.’
On the walk over to the saloon, Haskell told Garret all about his encounter with Jake.
‘I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to town,’ said Masefield Haskell. ‘I stopped when I saw that goshawk the second time. It took a quarter of an hour to make a sketch. Sadly, it took me a further two hours to find Jenny at her biscuit-root.’
‘Was Jake hurt?’ asked Garret.
‘It was hard to tell until he washed in my shaving water. I noticed his left hand was wrapped up, but he hightailed it away
from me without any trouble.’
‘Good. Thank you,’ said Garret.
‘Are you thanking me for letting him wash or for noticing his condition?’ asked Haskell. ‘I should think you might thank me for both, given the circumstances.’
Garret thanked him again.
Nathan McKenzie was none too pleased to see Garret walk into the saloon with Haskell. He paid the surveyor to dig for gem-mining sites, not to mix with the townsfolk. Nathan McKenzie’s only ambition was to be the rich founder of a prosperous town and to control the interests in it. To that end, he wanted to buy his way out of the Hudson’s Bay Company, and that took money.
For years, Trapper Watkiss had made claims about gold and gems in the mountains and how the ‘Injuns’ kept the good stuff for themselves. Nathan McKenzie had always thought that Trapper Watkiss was partly right, even if he was mostly crazy. That’s where Haskell came in, with his fancy geology degree from a fancy English university. Nathan McKenzie believed that Trapper Watkiss and Professor Haskell would make him rich.
Then Horace had told his father Jake’s dragon stories, and he’d got a swift clip around the ear for his efforts. Nathan couldn’t let a story like that ruin his chances by driving away the prospectors that would bring new wealth and prosperity to his town. There were riches to be had in the forests and mountains where the Natives lived, and Jake might be able to lead Trapper right to them.
When he’d sat down on his stool in the saloon that afternoon, the last thing Nathan McKenzie had wanted or expected to see was Haskell and Garret standing together with a search party right behind them.
‘That’s all very well,’ Nathan McKenzie said when Garret and Haskell had finished talking, ‘but soon there’ll be no light to see by.’
‘There are enough of us to shed a good amount of torchlight,’ said Garret, ‘and with Eliza gone too, I need to do something useful.’