I plucked a small shoot and rubbed it gently on my arm. It immediately felt better.
I hoisted my pack and raced after them with a handful of stems.
“Wait!” I shouted. “I found a cure!”
They paused and regarded me dubiously.
With a flourish, I presented them each with a portion of the leaves. “Just rub them on your skin,” I said.
They looked at me warily but did as I instructed.
Jehu looked a little disgusted at the thought, but Keer-ukso put them right on his cheek. He sighed happily. Then Jehu placed his leaves eagerly on his face. For a moment it seemed that they wouldn’t work and then his eyes fluttered shut. He gave a moan of relief.
“Now, that’s what I call a mighty fine tonic.”
I smiled triumphantly. “Remind me to apply for a patent when we’re back in civilization. I can call it Miss Jane Peck’s Amazing Tonic.”
“Cures all ills!” he quipped.
CHAPTER TWELVE
or,
A Powerful Smell
After soothing our skin, we were filled with renewed vigor and seemed to cover a great deal of ground.
“You sure do have your moments, Jane,” Jehu said, handing me a sturdy stick. His face still looked terrible, but he was clearly feeling better.
“Mr. Swan mentioned something once.”
“It’s a good trick. He’s a clever man.”
“Oh, he’s clever all right,” I said disdainfully. “He’s so clever he gambled away all our money.”
Jehu just stared straight ahead.
“Do you know that he never even apologized?” I said, stopping and putting my hands on my waist. “All he can talk about is how wonderful Mrs. Frink is!”
He rubbed the top of his own walking stick. “Maybe he feels ashamed.”
“He should feel ashamed,” I retorted. “If I never sew a shirt again, it will be too soon.”
Jehu looked as if he wanted to say something, but he simply sighed and said, “Come on. It’ll be getting dark.”
When we finally stopped for the night, I pulled my boots off and massaged my poor feet. They were swollen and throbbed, and there was an angry-looking blister on one of my heels. Clearly my boots had not been designed for any length of walking.
“I wonder what Mrs. Frink would do in a situation like this,” I said, eyeing my poor feet sadly.
“She’d probably get out her rifle and shoot us some supper,” Jehu said. “And help gather firewood.”
I ignored his subtle hint. “Why does everybody like Mrs. Frink so much?” I asked.
Jehu rubbed his scar thoughtfully. “Well, I reckon it’s because she’s got the charm.”
“But I’m charming,” I huffed.
Keer-ukso raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Actually, Jane,” Jehu said carefully, “you’re kind of, well, prickly.”
“What means prickly?” Keer-ukso asked curiously.
Jehu touched the tip of his knife. “Sharp.”
“Well, if I am prickly, it’s because I’ve got reason to be!” I burst out. “My betrothed married someone else, my papa died, and now I’m chasing after a filthy man who likes to spit at me!”
“Prickly,” Keer-ukso murmured, nodding his head at Jehu in agreement.
We had some more camas for supper and set out our bedrolls around the fire.
“Who is going to stay up and watch tonight?” I asked.
Jehu groaned. “You’re not starting with that again, are you?”
“We’re in the wilderness,” I said. “It’s dangerous. What if a bear attacks us?”
Jehu closed his eyes and tugged up his blanket, murmuring, “As long as it doesn’t wake me up, I don’t care.” And with that he flipped over.
“Keer-ukso?” I asked.
He yawned widely.
“Please!” I begged. “It’s dangerous.”
He nodded reluctantly. “You sleep, Boston Jane.”
It seemed I had just fallen asleep when I awoke to a rustle in the woods. Keer-ukso was sound asleep, and the fire was mere embers. I could see nothing in the thick blackness. I waited to hear another noise, but when after a moment all was still silent, I fell back into an uneasy sleep. The next morning when I went to organize breakfast, I noticed that one of the packs containing food had been untied.
“Someone’s been in the pack,” I said.
Jehu wandered over, blinking sleepily. “As long as they didn’t take the coffee.”
“The dried salmon is gone.”
“Probably just some animal,” Jehu said, grabbing the coffeepot and heading to the stream, as if someone stealing from the pack was a trifle not be concerned about.
“What kind of animal unties a pack?”
His words echoed to me. “A hungry one.”
Jehu was perfectly frustrating, and so when he offered to take up the lead, staking out a trail, I was happy to remain behind and walk with Keer-ukso. The climb was getting steeper now, and I was having a hard time keeping up; my skirt and thick petticoats kept tripping me. I longed again for my Chinook bark skirt. It was so much easier to walk in.
My shoulders ached. My pack was like a leaden weight. “My pack’s too heavy,” I complained.
Keer-ukso stopped.
“Truly it is,” I said in what I hoped was a persuasive voice.
He shrugged. “I carry.”
“Really?”
He gave a small smile.
“Thank you so much,” I said effusively.
We stopped and loaded my pack into his. Keer-ukso tested the weight. Then he slung it on his back. “Come.”
“Really, Keer-ukso, you are a true gentleman.”
He rolled his eyes at me and we walked along in amiable silence.
I was looking straight ahead when my foot hit a thick root I never saw, and I felt myself falling forward.
“Kloshe nanitch,” Keer-ukso said, grabbing me by the elbow.
“What?”
“I say to be careful,” Keer-ukso said, shaking his head. “Boston Jane, you must learn Jargon.”
I thought for a moment. “What did you and Jehu say that night in the cabin with William Baldt?”
Keer-ukso grinned. “Jehu, he said, ‘Yaka kahkwa pelton.’”
“What does that mean?”
“‘This man, he is a fool.’”
“And what did you say?” I asked.
“I said, ‘Certainly,’” he explained, his face mock serious. “‘And he resembles a mouse.’”
I laughed. “Maybe I should learn the Jargon after all. Although I’m not very clever when it comes to languages.”
“Champ learned Chinook. You say you not smart like Champ?”
Champ was a filthy, drunken, flea-ridden, no account man who had infected the entire village with smallpox.
“Mrs. Frink ask me to teach her Jargon,” Keer-ukso said with a twinkle in his eye.
“She did?” Mrs. Frink was learning the Jargon before me?
“But I tell her no, she learn Jargon from Mr. Swan,” he said with a knowing smile.
“Teach me some Jargon,” I ordered urgently.
Keer-ukso looked pleased. A shiny black crow was perched on a tree, eyeing us carefully as if we were a possible meal. “That is kawkaw,” he said.
“You mean the sound it makes?”
“Kawkaw means that bird.”
“Are there are a lot of words like kawkaw in the Jargon? Words that are named after what they sound like?” This seemed to me a very practical idea. Much easier than conversational French.
“Yes.” He paused and put his hand over my chest. My heart thudded rapidly under his warm touch. “Tumtum,” he whispered, his voice tickling my ear.
“Heart?”
He nodded and then burst into laughter. “Heehee!” he said.
“Heehee is funny?”
He shook his head. I tried again. “Laughter?”
“Good, Boston Jane. Hyak cooley!”
??
?What’s that?”
He started running up the path and disappeared into the dark woods. “Hyak cooley!” he called playfully.
I took off after him. I knew what that meant.
Run fast.
It was dusk when we finally caught up with Jehu. He had already set up camp and kindled a fire.
“Took you long enough,” Jehu said, stoking the fire. There was a pot of coffee warming.
“Keer-ukso, why don’t you sit down and rest, and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee. I’m very good at pouring coffee,” I said with my most winning smile. In truth, Pouring Tea and Coffee had been part of the curriculum at the Young Ladies Academy.
Keer-ukso grinned and dropped his pack, stretching his muscles.
“Here you go,” I said, handing Keer-ukso the cup. “Now let me see, what is there for supper?”
“Well, unless you baked a pie, it looks like we’ve got more venison and camas,” Jehu said.
I gave him a level gaze. “I’m sure Cocumb packed more than camas. Let me look in the sack, if you please.”
“Be my guest,” Jehu said, tossing me his pack.
There were some Indian meal, salt pork, and a small jar of molasses. “Excellent. I’ll make fisherman’s pudding. After all, Keer-ukso cannot be expected to carry my pack all day on stringy venison and camas.”
“You carried her pack?” Jehu asked, astonished.
Keer-ukso sipped his coffee.
Fisherman’s pudding involved frying up salt pork, then adding Indian meal, some water, and molasses. It was very hearty, and a favorite dish of all on Shoalwater Bay. I had it ready in no time. And I could tell by the way Jehu and Keer-ukso perked up that their mouths were watering.
I served Keer-ukso a large portion first. “Here you are,” I said, handing him a heaping tin bowl. He smiled at Jehu and dug in with gusto.
Next I handed Jehu a bowl. He poked around in it with his spoon.
“Hey, there’s no pork in mine,” he exclaimed indignantly.
“Keer-ukso worked very hard today,” I said in a firm voice.
Keer-ukso chewed enthusiastically, smacking his lips.
I served myself a dish and sat down. “What shall we talk about?”
“How about how I didn’t get any pork,” Jehu said, and got up and went over to the fire. He picked up the pot and began fishing pieces of pork out of it, popping them directly into his mouth.
“Perhaps we can discuss the benefits of proper table manners,” I suggested.
“Perhaps we can talk about what we’re going to do when we catch up with this murderer,” Jehu retorted.
“That is hardly appropriate supper conversation. Keer-ukso, what do you think we should talk about?” I put my hand on Keer-ukso’s arm, appealing to him with my eyes.
Keer-ukso looked down at my hand for a long moment and then over at Jehu. “Boston Jane is good Boston woman. Boston Jane make supper and speak Jargon. Make best wife.”
Jehu belched loudly.
I beamed at Jehu. “Obviously, some of the gentlemen around here appreciate me.”
Keer-ukso added slowly, “Maybe I marry her and get land.”
I looked at Keer-ukso in shock. He grinned at me mischievously.
Jehu, who had just taken a bite, began choking with laughter, his eyes watering.
“Keer-ukso!” I huffed, and got up and stormed off into the woods. Really, I couldn’t believe Keer-ukso. No doubt Jehu’s bad behavior was influencing him.
As I departed, I heard their laughter echoing after me.
“Just for that, you can do the dishes!” I shouted.
I awoke to freezing darkness and a rustling sound.
The useless men had fallen asleep, naturally, and allowed the fire to go out. A grizzly bear could attack us in the middle of the night, and neither one of them would even raise an eyelid.
“Who’s there?” I called nervously.
Another rustle.
I thought of Mr. Black wandering around in the woods. What if that was him? What if he was tracking us?
“Jehu!” I hissed, but he just grumbled and flipped over, mumbling into his pack.
I shook my head. I carefully took hold of M’Carty’s rifle. If Mrs. Frink could shoot a coyote, I could shoot at a man. Or a ghost, I thought shakily.
The rustling grew louder as I approached a thick shrub. My arms were quaking and the rifle was bobbing up and down. As I leaped around the bush, there was a flash of black and white fur, and then a terrible scent exploded over me.
I fell back, and the rifle shot into the sky.
“Boston Jane!” Keer-ukso shouted, crashing through the bushes. He froze when he smelled me. Jehu was right behind him.
“Oh, Jane,” Jehu gasped, turning his head away from me. “That is one powerful smell.”
“What happened?” I wailed.
“Looks like that skunk got you,” Jehu said, watching as a bushy tail disappeared into the brush.
“But I thought it was Mr. Black!” I moaned, overcome by the wretched smell, which seemed to have sunk into my very skin.
Keer-ukso giggled. Giggled!
“This isn’t amusing!” I shouted. “This is the only dress I have with me. What am I to do?” It was unbearable. I could barely stand the smell of myself.
“Perhaps,” Jehu suggested, wrinkling his nose, “you might consider spending the rest of the night over there.” He eyed a secluded rock group far away from the fire.
I had hoped it had all been a bad dream, but when I woke in the morning I still smelled very disagreeable. Both men made a point of walking well ahead of me. Now in addition to having sore feet, I smelled. I was very cross indeed.
When we stopped for lunch, I dug around in the pack for the jar of molasses, but it was gone.
“Someone stole the molasses!”
“The skunk probably got it,” Jehu said, unconcerned. “Deserved it for the fright you gave him.”
I glared at him.
“Maybe you leave at camp,” Keer-ukso said soothingly.
“I packed it. I know I did.”
I thought about it the whole time we hiked, and when we set up camp that evening I asked Keer-ukso what we should do to keep the provisions safe from animals. “We’re going to starve at this rate.”
“Hang packs in tree,” he said.
I clapped. “What a splendid idea.”
After supper I piled all the remaining food in one of the packs, grabbed a hank of rope, and went over to a tall tree not far from where we had set up camp. I stood there for a long moment, wondering how to rig the pack.
“You really want to hang that pack, eh?” Jehu said.
“I don’t want the animals to eat any more of our provisions,” I said firmly.
“Let me have that rope,” he said, and I gave him the length of rope. He flung one end over a tall branch and then secured it to the pack. He hoisted the pack up and proceeded to tie the other end to the tree trunk.
“You want to learn something useful?” he asked, gesturing for me to come over to the trunk.
“I suppose so.”
“I’m gonna teach you how to tie a good knot,” Jehu said.
“A knot?”
“A knot can save your life. Every sailor knows that. Here. Take one end of the rope. Now, this is the rabbit.”
“The rabbit?” I asked quizzically.
He grinned. “That’s right. Now, all you need to do is make the rabbit,” he said, looping the middle of the rope, “run out of the hole, hop around the tree, and back down the hole again.” He fed the rope through the loop and pulled tight. The knot held strongly.
“You try,” he said.
I took the rope and followed his instructions, but I must have done something wrong, for it fell apart. “This rabbit is not interested in going into its hole,” I said.
He laughed. “Try again, Jane.”
I did, and to my utter astonishment, the knot held.
“Well done,” he said in approval. “Now l
et’s get some sleep.”
The men fell asleep, but I stayed awake, listening. After a bit I drifted off, then was abruptly awakened by a noise. I blinked my eyes open. It was still dark, but I heard birds and knew that it was nearly morning.
And then I saw the bear in our tree.
I seized the rifle and crept to the bottom of the tree, staring into the blackness, trying to make out how big it was. It was so bulky and shaggy-looking that it quite possibly was a grizzly. There was a rustle as the bear inched forward onto the branch from which our packs were hanging. From the ground I could smell his tremendous gamy scent. Could he likewise detect the pungent aroma of skunk that emanated from me?
As if to answer my thought, the bear said, “Phew!”
I looked up, cocking the rifle.
“Don’t shoot!” the bear shouted.
I was so startled that I screamed.
A grizzled full-bearded man was dangling from the tree, my pack on his arm.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
or,
Introducing Mr. Hairy
“I knew it!” I shouted triumphantly. “I knew someone was stealing our food.”
Keer-ukso and Jehu were staring up at the tree with stunned expressions. They had come running when I screamed, their hair mussed from sleep, and Jehu was carrying a partially burning log from the campfire.
“And it looks like that someone is up in the tree,” Jehu observed dryly.
“Should I shoot him?”
“Don’t shoot!” the voice in the tree begged huskily.
Jehu stepped forward and sighed. “Come on down, or I can’t be responsible for her shooting you.”
My pack fell to the ground, and a moment later the man followed it with a crash.
“Oooof!” he groaned as he struck the ground.
The man stood up, and the light from Jehu’s torch illuminated the strange bulky figure. He was wearing some sort of capelike covering made up of various animal skins, and a wretched smell emanated from it.
“And you thought I smelled bad?” I asked, taking a step back.
“Skunk got ya, eh, gal?” the man cackled.
Keer-ukso’s eyes narrowed in recognition. “Hairy Bill,” he said in a flat voice.
“Pleased to meet ya, ma’am,” Hairy Bill said, bowing low.