by LeRoy Clary
The victory was nearly bloodless. King Emory only ruled a few more months before the accident that took his life. A prince from Breslau instantly claimed the throne and the war on the Dragon Clan turned to slaughter.
Rake wanted to go with her on the venture. Not because of her looks or personality, but because he’d recently searched for any excuse to leave the little cabin and go out into the world to find out what was there, but this did not seem the right time, and he was not presented with a choice. He hated being forced to do anything. “My family,” he began.
“A runner will arrive to tell your family of the need for your services by this evening. As a chieftain, my father knows the location of several Dragon Clan families, and the close proximities of many more. Your family will understand your duty. The runner will stay there and do your chores in your place, and I feel certain your oldest sister will be very happy at that. She has been seeking marriage for over a year, you know.”
The information about Grace was nothing new. At Twenty-three, she was years older than most marriageable women, but her iron-temperament put off most eligible men. Still, it seemed as if Cinder’s father knew all that and may have selected a good match for her—probably with Cinder’s help. “I only have what I am wearing. I can’t go like this.”
Her smile grew wider, friendlier. “You are smart, Rake. I didn’t expect that from a man who relies on his good looks to get by. Your first instinct was to consider logistics, and that shows intelligence and the ability to plan. Of course, we cannot go without supplies, that is why we are going to the trading post, first. We need to hurry up or we’ll be spending the night in the village—probably in an old barn with stinky animals. I prefer to sleep outside.”
“I have only a little credit at the post and that is reserved for things my family needs.”
She patted her hip. “My father provided for all we will need. We have more than enough, and we will forage along the way.” She turned and called over her shoulder, “Please try not to slow me down.”
CHAPTER THREE
They arrived at the trading post, well before midday. Inside, behind a counter sat the old proprietor in a well-worn rocking chair, hands folded over his ample stomach, fingers interlaced. His big feet were planted firmly on the counter, legs crossed at the ankles, eyes closed. It was a familiar sight.
His attractive daughter was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. She did the majority of the work and handled the needs of the few customers. Rake knew she would be nearby.
The situation presented two problems. The first was her reaction at seeing him with Cinder. She had a temper and had displayed it when he’d asked her for Cinder’s name. Rake also knew the legendary temper the old man had. Wake him, and he might close the trading post and refuse to sell them anything today. Rake placed an arm barring Cinder from advancing as he held his finger to his lips for quiet while he considered the best way to continue. If Beth returned, she could handle her father.
Cinder nimbly slipped around his arm and moved quickly to the rocking chair. Rake tried to attract her attention to prevent her from waking the man and quietly failed. She strode to the end of the counter and moved up behind the old man. She placed her hands gently on his shoulders and kneaded the muscles.
He moaned softly, “Those must be the hands of Cinder, the softest and gentlest woman on this side of the mountains. One day I’ll marry her and treat her like a princess if she will massage my neck and shoulders like this every day. I’d know those hands anywhere.”
“Oh, come on, you old faker. You peeked when we entered and knew who it was,” she said but continued working on his shoulders and neck, rubbing and caressing.
The old man’s face relaxed and his eyes remained closed. He said, “When you’re done, just quietly take whatever you need from the store and leave.”
The rear door opened and his daughter, Beth, a young woman Rake’s age entered. She cast a quick glance at Cinder with her father and asked, “Are you two at it again?”
Rake wanted to greet the girl in the manner Cinder had—especially the part of placing his hands on her shoulders. Just the two of them. Instead, he glanced around at the only room in the store, which was filled to overflowing with stacks of blankets, farm tools, a saddle, boots, shirts, knitting needles, yarn, two spinning wheels, and a thousand other items, all stored with no rhyme or reason. If there was a vacant space, the arriving stock went there.
The old man and his daughter, Beth, knew where every item was, even those that had been unsold for so long they were hidden at the bottom of a stack of dissimilar things. The store had an unmistakable odor, not unpleasant, but strong and different. Leather combined with wood, wool material, freshly forged iron, and a hundred other scents.
Rake realized what was abnormal was that it lacked the familiar human smells of his home. The smells came from the items and not the occupants, who lived in a tiny space at the rear.
Cinder said, “Rake and I have to leave for a while on a mission important to our families, and we didn’t have time to pack, even if we had all we need. We want a pair of large rucksacks with thick shoulder straps . . . and then we need to fill them. Two blankets for each us of rolled and tied on top, he needs a good knife, flint, and steel, dried food—all light stuff because we have a long way to go.”
At the mention of the trip together, Beth had reacted angrily, then eased her stance as Cinder talked, ignoring the trip together in favor of looking at Rake. Somehow Cinder had defused the situation by ignoring it. She still had her hands on the old man, as if pinning him to his chair.
The thin girl, the one with the friendly smile for him she had recently acquired, took a step closer and while gazing up into his eyes, said, “Will you help me choose what you want? Just to be sure you get the things you like?”
Rake was willing. Even more so when she took his elbow and pulled it close to her chest as she steered him to where a variety of canvas rucksacks were stored. She asked, “Waterproof? They cost more but keep your things dry.”
“And they stink because the air can’t get in to dry them when they do get wet,” Cinder called. “Better to keep individual things inside wrapped against water in plain canvas ones.”
Beth scowled in her direction and said, “That’s what I was about to say.”
To Rake, it hadn’t sounded like it, but he called to Cinder, “I have no idea how much we should spend.”
She called back, “The best of everything, my father said. I’ll select the food because I’m up here near the grocery shelves. And don’t you forget to replace those leather scraps you call shoes with quality boots or you’ll never make it on the rough road.”
Beth held up another rucksack for his assessment. He inspected it carefully. The canvas was heavy, the outside had several pockets and pouches. Attached to the top flap were four straps for tying the rolled blankets, a feature he liked because he was always losing pegging strings at home. At his nod, she took another from the stack and began tossing items inside them as she called off their uses. Rake wandered up and down the rows with her, watching her work. She knew what was needed for a long trip and where it was stored.
She selected a green shirt after holding it up to estimate the fit, and a pair of used, but servable pants. She apologized for not having new, but since Rake only owned one pair, a second in his pack was a luxury. She added thin metal bowls, a small pot with a lid, and a roll of fishing line, along with a selection of hooks.
He took the nearly full rucksacks and carried them as receptacles as she quickly moved up and down the four rows of goods. She said from the corner of her mouth, “How long is this trip you’re taking with her?”
“A month, maybe more,” he answered without really knowing the truth. He hadn’t missed the emphasis on Beth’s last word. Her. Nor the negative implications dripping in her tone.
“So, I won’t see you for that long?” A sweet smile followed, one he had often longed for. Today he tried to ignore it and failed. She
added, “I’ll be waiting for your return.”
He stuttered, “M-maybe when I get back, we can talk?”
“Count on it,” she said as she upended the rucksack on the counter in front of her father and Cinder, who were comparing the virtues of different hats. Cinder glanced at the pile and started picking through it, making one large pile and a small one for the rejected items.
Cinder looked at his feet and said, “Where are the boots I told you to get? This is silly. You’ll need them.”
“This way,” Beth said, leading the way, and only glancing back once to make sure Rake followed and that as he did, he watched the sway of her behind.
While trying on boots, it occurred to him that the young woman named Cinder had somehow usurped all the power in their relationship, and he now obeyed as if she was his mother and held a willow switch to threaten him with. However, the boots, the first he’d ever worn, felt so good he let the thoughts slide aside for the moment.
Beth made him remove the boots and put on a pair of socks, also a first for him. She handed him three more pairs and said, “They’ll keep blisters from forming. You’ll walk faster and get back to your girlfriend sooner.”
He ignored the mention of a girlfriend, which he assumed meant her. “I can’t afford them. Cinder is paying for too much already. I think this stuff comes to more than we spend here in a year.”
“The socks are a gift from me to hurry you along.”
At the counter again, Cinder had added food to the pile. Peppered dried meat, nuts, dried fruit of several kinds, and fresh apples. Always apples. The Dragon Clan made a point of spread the seeds near and far until apple trees grew everywhere, especially if you knew where to look. A few steps off any road, where they were in sight if a traveler looked for them. The endless varieties insured there were at least a few apples hanging on branches year-around.
He’d learned, as did all of his family, to never throw away apple seeds. They considered it almost a sin to do so. Many of them also saved cherry and pear seeds, but apples held a special relationship with the Dragon Clan in the old stories. With each apple eaten, seeds were placed in the same purse as coins or personal belongings and charms. Later, they would be planted where likely flourish. He always kept an eye out for sunny locations and good soil.
Beth had him pick out a straw hat. He selected the one with a wide brim and bright blue band that would make the ladies look his way in appreciation. Cinder turned and laughed at him as if he’d made a joke putting it on, and replaced it with one smaller, made of a tighter weave, and a sloped brim to shed water. Rake liked the appearance of the first but tried to look happy with the second. She had again taken charge and told him what was best for him. She would make a good mother to a flock of children. Not his.
Another lesson from the old stories crept into his mind. The moral of one was that he who controls the gold makes the rules. Today it seemed as true as when the story had first been uttered.
Beth had also liked the first hat. He’d seen her smile of approval and the slight scowl when he placed the second one on his head. Cinder began loading each item in the rucksacks, dividing the loads as equally as if she used a balancing scale.
He spoke more harshly than he intended, “Put the heavier stuff in mine.”
She turned, hands on her hips, fists balled. “Do you think I’m weak?”
“No. It’s not an argument, just a fact. I’m bigger and stronger, so should carry more.”
Cinder’s eyes told him to shut up as she fastened the top of the rucksacks with sharp actions. Rake caught the warning in the proprietor’s eyes. He backed up a step and allowed her to continue without comment. There would be time later to make changes.
Finally, she rolled two blankets together and tied them on top of one bag as he did the same with the other. Beth needlessly helped him adjust the straps as Cinder paid.
His eyes lingered on Beth as they left the post exchange. Should he say something? If so, what? He gave her a jaunty wave and caught the brief change of expression. She wanted more. Confused, he turned away as if he hadn’t seen it.
Once out of sight, Cinder said, “Maybe now we can talk about a few things without your mind turning to mush over that girl. Besides, she’s too young for you.”
As if listening to their conversation and waiting for a chance to draw his attention, the woodchopper’s daughter called from the porch of her cabin, “Rake, when are you going to teach me to hunt as you promised? I’m available.”
Cinder called back with a laugh, “As soon as he learns to read tracks.” Then, under her breath, she said, “Available. I’ll bet she is.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Rake said, remembering their earlier encounters when the girl on the porch had always treated him special. He’d promised to teach her to hunt and always kept his word. Well, mostly.
“Yes, I did need to say something. We need to put some distance behind us and all you want to do is linger and talk to the pretty girls along the way. Are you going to hold us up like that for the whole time?”
“Are there likely to be pretty girls along the way?” he asked, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist answering with a snarky comment. His sisters would.
“A few,” she muttered under her breath.
The young woman at his side was beautiful and Rake doubted there would be any to compare. He shifted the straps of the rucksack and decided to chance one more barb. “Hey, I can’t help it if a few girls here and there want to be friendly and nice, unlike others. It would be rude to ignore them. Besides, I can talk to them while we walk.”
“If you can manage to keep up with me, that’ll work.” She spat the words as if they had a foul taste and she increased the pace.
They rounded the bend in the two-rut road as it followed the small river and they could no longer see the few buildings of the trading post village when he glanced back. Their overall direction was away from his home, the only one he’d ever known, and after topping the next ridge, he would be as far away from it as he’d ever traveled.
The thought was disconcerting. It was exciting and fearful at the same time. Who knows what might lay over the next hill or valley? What they would find there? And to make it worse, Cinder was bossy, cranky, and smarter than him—and she didn’t mind telling him so. Holding his flash-temper would be a problem. It had been his entire life.
He hadn’t asked to accompany her on this trip. She had as much as taken him prisoner. Rake stewed about his lack of options. If he left her, would he have to give back the boots and rucksack? Well, at least he’d keep the socks. They were a gift from Beth.
Cinder seemed determined to walk faster than him. He increased his pace to keep up, his long legs taking two strides for her three. Even with the rucksack equal in weight to his, she moved with resolve and without pause. He could have outpaced her, but if he did, she’d probably speed up again and the end result would be to make it harder for him. It would turn into a race.
Rake said, “Were you born back there? In the head of the valley, I mean.”
“Yes. Just over the next mountain from you. A bird could fly it in about the time it takes to tell you about it, but a person has to go around the base of the mountain, not over the peak. But if you had ever followed that little river beside your cabin for half a day and turned east, you’d have found us.”
He walked on, remembering a clear, spring day a few years earlier. He had gone down the river to look for likely pools where trout gathered. He’d caught a whiff of smoke—or thought he had. Nobody had ever suggested there were others living near there, especially other Dragon Clan, but the scent of smoke had lingered. He’d searched for a fire, perhaps started by lightning.
The smell had eventually disappeared, and he rarely went in that direction again because the ground was rocky and there was little game. The river down there was wide and shallow, without the good holes for fish to lay in like at higher elevations. He had never smelled the smoke again. From what Cinder
said, her family lived near that place he’d been and when the wind blew the right direction, the smoke would travel up the narrow valley to where he’d stood. It explained a small mystery that had lingered in the back of his mind.
It was a good lesson for two reasons. First, it told him to follow-up on things better, and also how far the smell of smoke can travel on the wind. He’d be more careful with fires in the future.
She said, “Let me know if I’m walking too fast for you.”
He withheld a grin. From the trading post to where they were a few minutes ago she hadn’t faltered, and he was beginning to wonder if she could carry the rucksack and outwalk him. But in the last few minutes, she had slipped twice and tripped over a loose rock once.
The reason he wanted to smile was because the straps on his rucksack were rubbing his shoulders raw, so they had to be doing the same to her. Probably worse. The unwieldy weight tended to make him over-compensate for dips or hollows, and despite his greater size and strength, she had seemed unaffected until recently. Or at least, she had pretended it didn’t bother her. Until now.
He could keep up the frenetic pace and prove to her he was bigger and stronger, which would accomplish nothing. He could complain his rucksack was too heavy and ask if she would carry part of it, but that seemed unwise. Close to stupid.
She wouldn’t give up and slow down or admit her shoulders were raw, and the end result might be they would rest for days to recover. Why? To prove something that didn’t need proving except to salve an ego, his or hers.
Instead of opposing her, he said, “I could use a short break. The straps of my backpack need adjusting too. That is if you don’t mind pausing long enough for me to do it.”