Wilderness Days

“The man who was kicked off of Shoalwater Bay?” I asked.

  Keer-ukso nodded. “For stealing.”

  “I didn’t steal nothing. That’s a lie,” Hairy Bill declared in an indignant voice.

  “You took our molasses,” I pointed out.

  “And salmon,” Keer-ukso added.

  Hairy Bill bit his lip.

  “The molasses, if you please,” I said, putting my hand out.

  He reached into his cape, a little reluctantly, and then pulled out the jar and handed it to me. It was half empty and the entire jar was sticky and covered with bits of fur and fluff.

  “Did you use your fingers?” I demanded, eyeing his filthy hands.

  He shrugged. “Ain’t got no spoon.”

  I shook my head in disgust and handed the jar back. “You can keep it.”

  Hairy Bill snatched it quickly and squirreled it away in his voluminous cape. “Thank you, ma’am. I heard you were a nice lady.”

  “Why are you following us? Don’t you have a home to go to?”

  “My wife kicked me out,” he said in a small, sad voice.

  I was quite certain she had very good reason, considering the poor character of the man. “Where is she?”

  “Richmond, Virginia.”

  I gave him a long look. Really, we needed to get rid of this man or we would starve to death.

  “Mr. Hairy,” I said finally, “I do believe if you took the time to clean yourself up, and apologized, she would quite likely take you back.”

  “You really think she’d take me back?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

  I certainly wouldn’t, but at least it would get him to the other side of the country. “I’m sure she would consider it, especially if you took my advice about the bath.”

  He scratched his head, and then he beamed at me as if he found the notion appealing. “Why, ma’am, that’s a mighty fine idea. I believe I will go home and apologize. In fact, I believe I’ll get moving right after I have some victuals.” He looked at me beseechingly. “A man can’t walk on an empty stomach.”

  Jehu snorted.

  “But you’ve been stealing our food for days,” I said. I was not at all inclined to cook for this man.

  “Jane,” Jehu said, sounding tired. “Just give him something to eat.”

  “Yeah, the least ya can do is feed me!” Hairy Bill whined.

  Keer-ukso snatched the rifle out of my hands and pointed the gun straight at Hairy Bill. “Eat and then you go.”

  Hairy Bill held up his hands. “I promise. You have my word.”

  “Word of thief,” Keer-ukso grumbled.

  By that time, the sun was creeping up over the horizon, so I cooked breakfast for all of us. As our supplies were somewhat lower because of Hairy Bill’s pilfering, I used the Indian meal to make johnny cakes. Hairy Bill inhaled every scrap I placed in front of him.

  “That was mighty tasty, ma’am,” Hairy Bill said, wiping his mouth with what appeared to be a fox’s tail dangling from the cape.

  “That is a rather unusual cape you have there,” I observed.

  “Thankee,” he said, looking pleased. “And it’s real warm, too.”

  “Not to mention it probably keeps the other animals away,” Jehu added dryly.

  Hairy Bill looked affronted. He tugged up his furry cape and said, “I best be going now.”

  Keer-ukso nodded in agreement, fingering the rifle.

  And with that Hairy Bill got up and loped away, looking very much like the bear I had mistaken him for. Something occurred to me.

  “Mr. Hairy,” I shouted.

  He paused, looking back over his furry shoulder.

  “How long ago exactly did your wife kick you out?”

  “I reckon it’s been about, well, fifteen years now, give or take a few.”

  “Fifteen years,” I said. “I see. Well, good luck anyway.”

  Hairy Bill disappeared into the sunrise.

  Jehu shook his head. “He’s gonna need it.”

  There seemed little point in going back to bed, so we packed up and set out in the cool morning light.

  “We should have checked his pockets,” I said, as we walked along.

  There was the distinct sound of a crash behind us.

  “Oh dear,” I said. “He’s still following us, isn’t he?”

  Keer-ukso weighed the rifle in his hands.

  “Not if he’s smart,” Jehu said.

  “Whatever gave you the impression that he was smart?” I asked.

  Jehu chuckled.

  We tromped along until we reached a creek. It was flooded, and water rushed down angrily.

  “No!” Keer-ukso said with an audible groan.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Big tree for crossing, it is gone,” Keer-ukso said, pointing. A long, thick tree lay in the creek, partially submerged in the deep water.

  “That was the only way across?” Jehu asked, scratching his head.

  “Fastest way,” Keer-ukso said.

  I surveyed the creek. Another tree, a slender one, had fallen across, forming a natural bridge. “What about that tree?” I suggested.

  Jehu said doubtfully, “I don’t think it will hold us. If we could just get across somehow and rig a rope …” His voice trailed off.

  Keer-ukso was shaking his head. “Mr. Russell,” he said hollowly.

  Something about the expression on Keer-ukso’s face shook me, and I suddenly knew what I had to do. I went over to Jehu’s pack and took out the bundle of rope. Using the sailor’s knot Jehu had taught me, I tied one end around my waist, and the other end around the trunk of a thick, sturdy tree. Then I walked to the edge of the creek where the slender tree bridge awaited me.

  “Jane, what are you doing?” Jehu asked.

  “I’m going across. I’m light enough. When I get to the other side, I’ll tie the rope on that tree over there and then you can come across using that. After all, you showed me how to tie that knot,” I said, trying to put on a brave face.

  “You can’t be serious. What if you fall?”

  I patted the rope around my waist, and swallowed hard. “Then you drag me up.”

  And with that I took a tentative step onto the bridge.

  “Jane—no!” Jehu shouted, moving quickly toward me. “You’re scared of heights, and—”

  But his voice was fading, and I just looked forward, walking slowly, foot after foot. The next thing I knew I was standing in the middle of the bridge. For a moment I wavered. The wind seemed to whip up, I felt the wood bow beneath my weight, and fear crackled through me like lightning.

  “Jane!” Jehu called in a strangled voice.

  I stood there, paralyzed. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was standing on a rooftop in Philadelphia, and Jebediah Parker was right there beside me.

  “Come on, Jane! It’s easy,” he called gaily.

  He scampered ahead of me along the high rooftop, his feet sure, his arms wide. I blinked again and he was gone, and I was standing over the raging water. But it didn’t matter, because I knew I could do it. After all, I had been beset by tragedy after tragedy—William Baldt had abandoned me and my father had died—but I was still here, and I was strong.

  Most of all, I remembered that I, Jane Peck, was the best spitter in all of Philadelphia.

  I looked down into all that rushing water.

  And spit.

  When I looked back at Jehu, his face had gone white. But I just winked … and walked to the other side.

  Jehu’s eyes were shining when he finally made it over. “I knew you had it in you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He gripped my shoulders hard as if he were afraid I would disappear.

  My heart was full to bursting. “See, I really was the best spitter in all of Philadelphia!”

  “Among other things,” he said, his body moving closer to mine.

  “Like what?” I asked, transfixed by the way one thick dark curl hung over his forehead.

  He traced his f
inger along my nose. “I’ll bet you were the prettiest girl in all of Philadelphia.”

  “Maybe.” I gulped.

  “And I’m sure you had the best manners.”

  “Possibly.”

  His finger touched my chin gently, tilting it up, and I stared straight into his blue eyes, waiting.

  “Oh, Jane,” he whispered, and then he pulled me into his chest and hugged me hard, his hand smoothing my hair.

  I closed my eyes, listening to the steady thumping of his heart, and smiled.

  The day grew colder, frosty even, but Jehu’s warm smile and firm hand clasping mine kept me toasty straight through.

  Soon, though, even Jehu’s attentions could not stop my feet from becoming numb with cold. By the time the sun was falling, I was frozen straight through, and tripping from the sheer lack of feeling in my feet. Even Jehu and Keer-ukso were feeling the effects of the cold weather. Jehu’s lips were tinged with blue.

  Jehu dumped the packs and pushed me gently down in the pile. “Wait here,” he said, and he and Keer-ukso disappeared.

  I reached into a pack and pulled a blanket around me, a dizzy exhaustion stealing over my body. My eyes fluttered shut. All I wanted was to be back home in Philadelphia, sitting in our warm parlor on Walnut Street. I believe I would have given anything for a bath and a proper bed and a slice of Mrs. Parker’s cherry pie.

  And then suddenly I could feel the heat of a crackling fire. I opened my eyes, hardly believing, and there was Papa sitting in his chair, smoking his pipe, his cheeks flush with good health. The smoke seemed to linger in the air, hovering on the edge of my senses.

  Papa shook my shoulders gently, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay, Janey?”

  He was shaking me hard, but when I blinked, there was Jehu.

  “Are you okay, Jane?” he asked urgently.

  I swallowed hard, looking around for Papa in confusion. It was now dark, and I was sitting on the cold ground, a blanket and some packs around me. I looked up at him and nodded mutely.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said, helping me up. “We found a good place to camp for the night.”

  The “good place” they found was a dank, dirty cave. It smelled awful, as if some animal had lived in it, which was probably the truth. The ceiling was so low I couldn’t stand properly, and roots dangled and poked into my hair. It was perfectly dreadful.

  “This is actually worse than Mr. Russell’s cabin,” I said despondently, crouching down on the ground. “I never thought I’d see the day that I’d long for that place.”

  “Keer-ukso thinks there’s a storm brewing, and so do I, and we don’t want to get caught without shelter,” Jehu said firmly.

  “What if this is a grizzly bear’s cave?” I asked. “What if the bear is out hunting, and comes back and finds us here?”

  Keer-ukso shook his head firmly. “Not bear cave. Too small.”

  “Oh good, that’s a relief,” I said, slumping against the cold wall.

  “Wolf cave,” he clarified, holding up what appeared to be the bones of a small animal, no doubt the wolf’s most recent supper.

  I threw my hands up. “Oh lovely. Wolf,” I said sarcastically.

  “Let us handle things,” Jehu said soothingly.

  And handle things they did. Jehu kindled a fire, which promptly went out when the wind whipped through the cave. He kindled it again and the wind snuffed it again. After the fire went out a third time, I suggested that they hang one of the blankets across the entrance, leaving a small hole for the smoke to escape. Finally, the fire caught for good, and the cave began to warm up a bit.

  We had an uninspired supper—dried venison and more camas—and after that the men promptly fell asleep.

  Useless men. How could they sleep when there was a wolf lurking outside the cave? I sidled over to Jehu.

  “Wake up,” I whispered, nudging him.

  “What?” he growled, one eye open in a squint.

  “What if the wolf comes back? What if it comes back and eats us?”

  Jehu flipped on his side and cuddled up to his pack, flinging his arm over it. “Don’t worry, Jane. You smell too bad for any wolf to want to eat you.”

  I couldn’t believe him. They were quite happy to sleep while some wolf was out there waiting to get back into its den? Well, I for one had no intention of being eaten by a wolf. I hauled M’Carty’s rifle to my side and propped it against a wall, determined to stay awake. I stared doggedly at the entrance of the cave. The sound of the wind seemed to sing outside, lulling me, dragging me down to where it was so peaceful and warm and—

  I woke abruptly, shaking my head. I had just nodded off for a moment, hadn’t I? The air hummed with the soft snores of Jehu and Keer-ukso. A thin shaft of gray light streamed in through the corner of the blanket at the mouth of the cave, and I struggled to my feet, rifle in hand. I opened the blanket … and blinked.

  Clean white snow stretched out in all directions. And it was still falling.

  We were snowed in.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  or,

  Memelose Stories

  The snow fell thick and fast, the wind whipping it now and then, catching it, sending it swirling through the air. We were all freezing. My calico dress and cape were no match for this weather.

  Jehu’s face looked grim.

  “We can’t just stay here,” I said desperately.

  “We’ll die out in that snow. That’s a blizzard,” said Jehu. “We have enough food to last a week. If we can just hold out that long, we’ll be fine. Early snow like this, I reckon it’ll melt fast.”

  Keer-ukso nodded in agreement.

  “What if it doesn’t?” I whispered, terrified at the thought of being stuck in a cave in the mountains. “What if we never get out of here?”

  “Then we’ll die with the smell of skunk in our noses,” Jehu half joked.

  “This is serious, Jehu.” I caught sight of pawlike indentations in the snow in front of the cave. “And what are those?” I demanded.

  Keer-ukso crouched down. “Leloo.”

  Leloo? I considered for a moment. Le loup meant “wolf” in French. I snapped my fingers triumphantly. “Wolf!” I announced. And then went pale. “Wolf,” I whispered.

  “Smoke scare wolf,” Keer-ukso said.

  The wind shifted, blowing past me to Keer-ukso.

  “Or maybe Boston Jane scare wolf,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

  I didn’t even dignify his comment with an answer.

  The morning passed slowly, marked only by the accumulation of snow. I tried to pretend that the cave was merely our parlor at home. Except, of course, it was cold and dark, reeked of skunk, and was teeming with insects.

  “I can hardly believe I attended Miss Hepplewhite’s Young Ladies Academy all those years to end up in a filthy cave,” I muttered irritably, drawing in the dirt with a stick. I stretched and banged my head on the cave roof. “Ow.”

  Jehu raised an eyebrow.

  “To think I had the fare for a voyage home. Which I still say I should have taken. M’Carty didn’t know what he was talking about. Mr. Black was a true gentleman.”

  “Mr. Black, maybe he is memelose gentleman,” Keer-ukso joked.

  “Whether Black’s a memelose or not, I don’t know,” said Jehu. “But we’re stuck here now, that’s certain.” He leaned back, stretching. “And Miss Hepplewhite can be washed out with the bilge for all I care.”

  I ignored him.

  “I do know a thing or two about memeloses, you know,” Jehu added mysteriously.

  Keer-ukso and I both stared at Jehu, curious.

  “And I can tell you the story of Fanny Neale, if you care to hear it.”

  Keer-ukso nodded and leaned forward. “Tell story.”

  “It’s a true story.” Jehu crossed his legs and stared into the fire. “Fanny Neale,” he sighed, “was the prettiest girl on Cape Cod.”

  Unaccountably, I felt a twinge of irritation at the way he said her name. “Did you
know her?”

  “You’ll have to listen and find out,” he said, his eyes taunting me. “See, Fanny had this long beautiful hair, like spun silk. It was the color of gold, and it was said that if you carried one of Fanny’s locks in your pocket you’d have a good sea voyage.” He patted his pocket as if he carried a strand there himself.

  I pictured Fanny Neale in the cave, her hair falling around her shoulders like a cape, her eyes only for Jehu.

  Jehu’s voice seemed to grow softer, mixing with the wind humming outside the cave. “Fanny Neale fell in love with a sailor, and they pledged their troth to each other.”

  I felt a peculiar clenching sensation in my chest.

  “The sailor was set to ship out on a voyage, and so they agreed that they would marry upon his return. Each day Fanny walked along the beach, looking for her beloved’s ship to return.

  “There was a terrible storm, and the rain battered the seas. Ship after ship was reported sunk, but Fanny Neale never lost hope. Still she walked the beach, waiting for her sailor.” His voice lowered an octave, and the fire flickered. “And then one day word came that her lover’s ship had sunk, and all hands were lost.”

  I looked into Jehu’s eyes, remembering the terrible storm we had survived to arrive at Shoalwater Bay, and knew all too well how cruel fate could be. My maid, Mary, and the cabin boy, Samuel, had died during that storm.

  “What happened?” Keer-ukso asked.

  Jehu shook himself. “Fanny was heartbroken. She couldn’t bear to live without her sailor. So she threw herself into the sea and drowned.”

  I gasped.

  “But then, two weeks later, her sailor returned. He had managed to survive by clinging to a piece of wood. That, and the sure knowledge that his Fanny was waiting for him, kept him alive. When he found out that she had killed herself, he went down to the place where she had drowned and wept and wept. And there, on the sand, was a long thick lock of her hair, except it had turned green, become part of the sea itself.”

  “Seaweed,” Keer-ukso whispered.

  Jehu nodded. “And it’s said that you can always find Fanny Neale’s hair after a storm, for she’s mourning and tearing her hair out for the sailor that she lost so long ago.”

  The cave was quiet for a moment, and then there was a soft wailing sound on the wind, like weeping. Jehu’s eyes met mine, and held. What if he were lost at sea? What would I do?