Bride of the Wild

by Carré White

  “We’re going to run out of air, aren’t we?” I asked, dreading the answer I might receive.

  “It’s not good.” Micah’s arms were around me. “Once it’s stopped, we’ll have to dig out. I just pray the stuff over us is loose enough to move.”

  “Bryce? Are you well?” I could barely see him, and he sat close by.

  “I’m fine, Saffron,” he said miserably. “I just don’t know what’s worse. An Indian attack or a bloody avalanche.”

  “I’ve no doubt they caused it. We were sitting ducks. There’s a real chance the others perished. We may as well, if we can’t dig out.”

  “Have you ever been in an avalanche before?”

  “In snow, yes. I’ve never been buried under rocks before.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling a sense of helplessness. “Gracious be, this is terrible. I want to tell you I adore you, Micah. If we don’t come out of this alive, at least I’ve said my piece.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I adore you too, Saffron.”

  “All right, you lovebirds, that’s enough. Start digging.” Bryce began to push at the debris over our heads. “Tarnation! It feels like solid rock.”

  “I’ll try over here,” said Micah, kicking at what should have been an opening, but the dirt that had thundered down the mountain covered it. “It’s moving here.”

  Confined to such a degree, we could not work side-by-side, sitting single file between the boulders. If it had not been for the rocks, we would have been crushed to death. “Keep trying, Micah. When you get tired, one of us will take over.”

  Bryce touched the ceiling. “It really is one big rock.”

  “I’m seeing light!”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” I grinned, licking my lips and tasting dirt. A coating of filth covered every square inch of my body. “Keep digging.”

  Micah kicked and pushed his way through a pile of rubble, bringing in a welcoming burst of sunlight, which illuminated particles of dust floating in the air. “I think I got it.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief, inhaling soot. “What about the Indians? Do you think they’re waiting to finish us off?”

  “I’m not certain,” said Bryce. “How were any of us supposed to survive that? They might believe the attack was successful.”

  I thought of Silas and the others. “We have to find survivors. We must do whatever we can to help them.”

  “That goes without saying,” said Micah, kicking at the remaining rocks. “We can squeeze out here. Let’s go.” He slid from the enclosure, reaching for me. “Come on, Saffron.”

  It was a relief to be out in the open, but fear gripped me. I glanced overhead. “Do you see any Indians?”

  “No. They’re gone. They’ve done their job, and now they’re on their way.” He scowled, looking livid. “I know the army is responsible for its fair share of atrocities, but the natives certainly aren’t without fault.”

  Bryce stumbled out, landing on his knees. He ran fingers through his hair, shaking out the dirt. “I lost my hat.”

  “How will we find the others when there’s no trail left?” What had been our path was now buried under rubble.

  “We can’t go that way. It’s too loose. It might slide again.” Bryce spat on the ground. “I sure hope others survived.”

  Micah ran a hand over his mouth. He had dirt in his hair as well and streaks smudged across his face. He dug through his backpack, bringing forth a monocular.

  “What are you doing?” I inched closer, curious.

  “Having a look. I want to be sure there are no hostiles around before we do anything. They might be lurking, watching to see if any of us came out alive.” We waited, while he meticulously scoured the area, pausing here and there to have a better look. “They’ve gone on. I’m not sure how we’re going to approach this. The entire side of the mountain is highly unstable now. If we crawl over the debris field, it could shift and take us down.”

  “But we can’t leave them here!” This distressed me greatly. “There are people buried alive on the mountain. We have to help them.”

  “And we shall, but let me think.” He grasped a tree branch, pulling off a stout-looking limb. “All right.” He looked at Bryce. “What do you think? How will we do this?”

  “We crawl over the rubble. Then we call out and listen for an answer. If you here something, dig.”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “It is, but it’s the only option we have.”

  “And we’ve wasted enough time,” I said. “Let’s find survivors.”

  “I’m leaving my things here.” Micah began to unbuckle his pack. “It’ll be easier to get around this way.”

  “Good idea.” Bryce released his bag, leaving it near Micah’s.

  I did the same. “Let’s hurry. I'm sure they’re desperate for rescue by now.”

  We scrambled over rocks and fallen trees, the earth feeling unstable beneath our hands and feet. Micah worried it would all fall away, which was my concern as well. We worked our way towards where we thought others had been further down the path, and began to call out.

  “Sheriff! Silas! Is anyone there?”

  “Butch!”

  “Silas!”

  Not long after, we perceived a voice, having originated somewhere beneath us. I stood to get a better look, peering down into the canyon, where a river swiftly flowed. Seeing something there, I gasped. “Oh, heavens.”

  “What is it?”

  I pointed. “Someone’s down there.”

  “Who?”

  I glanced at Micah. “He’s dead. He fell in the avalanche.”

  “I don’t have my monocular. I left it in my pack. I can’t tell who it is.”

  “I don’t know either.” Having a death confirmed, left me low, my spirits waning. Although we had heard someone beneath us, would we even be able to dig him out? Did I have the strength to dig all day?

  “Saffron?”

  I glanced at Micah, as tears filled my eyes. “Yes?”

  “It’s going to be fine. We’ll work on this pile, and then, when these people are free, they can help us find more survivors. One task at a time.”

  That sounded entirely sensible. “All right.”

  “You’ve been very strong, my love. You can do this.”

  His firm, yet assuring, words gave me the strength to set aside my grief and grasp at the rocks beneath my fingers, flinging them away. “Let’s dig. The sooner they’re free, the sooner more can be found.”

  Micah grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

  The first group of survivors consisted of Sheriff Palmer, Deputy Thomas, and Butch Cashman. They had flung themselves beneath a fallen tree, which offered just enough protection. We helped them out, one at a time, the men looking worse for wear but heartily grateful for the rescue.

  “Who’s down in the gully?” asked the sheriff. “I see a body.”

  “We don’t know,” I said. Exhausted from having to move a heavy pile of rocks, I sat on one, hunching my shoulders.

  Micah and Bryce had gone ahead, Micah thrusting his stick into a pile of rubble. “Anyone there? Silas? Wesley?”

  Deputy Thomas joined them, while Butch held his head in his hands. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I got knocked pretty hard.”

  I went to him, feeling his scalp and discovering a large goose egg. “Oh, my. Does that hurt?”

  “Yes, it hurts, Saffron,” he griped. “Blasted heck! I’m about to kill something. Those good for nothin’ Indians!”

  “They meant to harm us.”

  “Yes, they sure did.”

  “You have to watch for signs of illness. If you feel sick, please tell someone. I don’t know much about head injuries, but they can be dangerous. Just sit here. Don’t move.” I hurried to join the others, who continued to call out for survivors, thrusting sticks into loose rubble. When I reached Micah, I said, “Butch has a rather nasty bump on his head.”

  “Is he sittin
g down?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. He should stay that way. We’ll have to watch him.”

  “Any luck?” He had been poking through a pile of dirt.

  “No. I’m thinking either Wesley or Silas is below.” His look held meaning. “Those are the only two missing.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Gracious be.”

  “It’s a wonder the others are alive. It’s a miracle anyone made it through.”

  “I hope we find Silas. I might’ve said some harsh things to him earlier, but I’d never wish him or anyone else ill.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know, but I still feel dreadful. I feel guilty for having survived.”

  “Don’t. I’m sure, with any luck, we’ll find him.”

  The others searched, thrusting sticks through the debris, and shouting Silas and Wesley’s name. I continued to help, scrambling over the rubble and calling for survivors. “Wasn’t Silas further ahead?” I glanced at Sheriff Palmer. “Who did he walk with?”

  “He’d been speaking to Wesley before the avalanche, but then Wesley came back to us. If we’re going to find him, it might be up the path.”

  Had Silas been out of range? “I hope so.”

  “I’ll see if I can find him.” Bryce crawled towards me, his tired, yet hopeful eyes alight. “He might be in that pile.” He pointed towards a grouping of rocks amassed loosely.

  “That’s about the edge of the rocks,” said Sheriff Palmer. “I can see the trail over there.”

  I hadn’t known we were that close to the end of the debris field. “Oh.”

  Micah scrambled over, thrusting the stick into the rubble. “Anyone in there?”

  Scooting over rocks and dirt, I worked my way towards the ground. The others remained on the pile above me, while I strode down the path, wondering what I might find around the corner. I hadn’t gone far when I came upon a man’s boot. This was attached to torn trousers, and then a body.

  “Silas!” I shouted. “I found him over here!” He had suffered an arrow wound, which had gone through his belly. “Oh, my Lord!” I fell to my knees, reaching for his face. “Silas, can you hear me?” He looked ashen, his breathing shallow. “Can you hear me?”

  A shadow fell behind me, as Micah and the sheriff appeared. “I’ll be darned. Stand aside, my dear. Let me have a look at him.”

  I met Micah’s gaze. “He survived the rocks but not the arrows.”

  “It seems so,” he said, his expression sober.

  “Can we pull it from him?”

  “No,” said Micah. “The shafts are designed to leave the arrowhead behind. This’ll cause a terrible infection. The arrowhead must be removed, but pulling on the shaft won’t do it.”

  Butch and Bryce came to stand nearby, Butch saying, “That’s right. From the looks of the feathers, the arrowhead isn’t especially large. The bigger the feathers on the end, the larger the arrowhead. But it’ll still be difficult to get out.”

  “How do we do it then?” I had watched the settlers on our wagon train remove arrows, but they had done it incorrectly and everyone wounded in this manner eventually died.

  “I know how,” said Micah. “I’ve done it before, but I can’t guarantee he won’t die from infection. I don’t know if any vital organs were punctured or not. If it’s lodged in bone,” he shrugged, “it might not come out at all.”

  “Maybe we outta just leave it in him, until we get home.” The sheriff got to his feet. “We could make a gurney from some branches and a blanket and carry him out.”

  “That’s an option, but he might not survive it.” Bryce glanced at Micah. “I say we try to get the arrow out.”

  “If you agree, I can do it.”

  Deputy Thomas and the sheriff exchanged a glance. “All right then, said Sheriff Palmer. You’re gonna need some whiskey. I have to check my pack, but I believe I’ve a bit left.”

  Micah withdrew a sharp-looking hunting knife. “I’ll need this as well.”

  “I’m glad it’s not me,” said Butch. “This ain’t gonna be fun for anybody.”

  “Then it’s Wesley down the side of the mountain,” I said. “He’s going to have to be either buried or taken home. We can’t leave him like that.”

  “No, we can’t.” Micah stared into the distance, deep in thought.

  “What is it?”

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” he murmured, for my ears only.

  “Don’t say that.” He had helped me when I had been low, and now it was time I returned the favor. “We can manage this. You can save Silas. We’ll send someone down to get Wesley. It’ll probably take another day to get home, but we can do it.”

  He smiled tiredly. “I know. That’s not what worries me.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I’ve an instinct for trouble.”

  “We’ve had enough trouble.”

  “Yes, but I don’t think it’s over yet.”

  “We’ll manage one disaster at a time.”

  His look was rueful. “Now you’re repeating everything I told you earlier.”

  “I am.”

  “I’ve got whiskey!” The sheriff scrambled over the rocks towards us, bringing his pack.

  “Thank you, sir.” Micah took the bottle from him.

  “You help him, Saffron. Bryce and Leonard and Butch and I are going down to retrieve Wesley.” He waved towards the men, who had been standing nearby. “Let’s go. We can’t leave him there to be picked apart by the vultures. His folks will want his body for a proper burial.”

  Watching them walk away left me with an odd and disturbing feeling that left the hairs on the nape of my neck standing at attention. Why do I think I might never see them again?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Micah dug through the Sheriff’s belongings. “What are you looking for?” I stood over him, watching.

  He pulled out a metal canteen. “This. I need to wash my hands.”

  “Are you sure you can’t just yank the arrow out?”

  “No, I can’t. The tip is made to be loose, and it’ll embed and cause infection. Everything needs to come out.”

  My attention fell to Silas’s face, which appeared dreadfully pale. He had his eyes closed, but I knew he could hear us. “Silas?”

  “Hum?”

  “Does it hurt badly?”

  “It feels like it’s burning. It aches, but I’ll live.” He opened his eyes, staring at Micah. “You’re a good chap. I know you don’t care for me, yet you insist on helping.” He made a move, trying to lift himself off the ground to look at the wound. Blood gushed from the gash, soaking his shirt.

  “Stay still!” Micah placed a hand on his chest. “Don’t move.” He uncorked the top of the whiskey bottle. “Have a sip.”

  Silas grunted, grimacing. “Good idea.”

  “If the arrow had gone through the other side, we could’ve pulled it out, but it’s only in there a few inches. I hope not further.” Micah gave me the canteen. “Pour this over my hands. I have to be as clean as possible.”

  I did as he asked, while he rubbed his fingers together. A layer of dirt coated us from head to foot from being in the rubble of the avalanche. “That’s all the water. There wasn’t much.”

  Micah produced one of Sheriff Palmer’s shirts, wiping his hands. “It’ll do. I’ll rinse with whiskey too.” When he had finished, he reached for Silas’s shirt, pulling it free of the trousers. He then yanked the pants over his hips, exposing a pale belly speckled with blonde hair. The arrow jutted from the left edge, just beneath the ribcage. Unsheathing a knife, he doused the blade with whiskey.

  Alarmed, I asked, “What are you doing with that?”

  “I have to enlarge the opening so I can get my fingers in there. I have to find the arrowhead.”

  “Oh, my Lord, how awful.” I began to pace back and forth, feeling slightly ill at the thought that Silas would be in even more pain. I went to stand by the edge of the path, near a gr
ouping of trees. Below me, I spied the members of our party, slowing making their way down towards Wesley’s body.

  “Ahhh … blazes man!” muttered Silas. “That hurts like hell.”

  “I’m sorry. It has to be done, otherwise you’ll die from infection.”

  “I’ll probably die anyway.”

  Returning to them, I dreaded having to look at the wound, which bled profusely now, because Micah had cut it open wider. “Stay strong, Silas. Once it’s out, we can be on our way home, and Doctor Walker can see to you.”

  “Just do it,” he moaned miserably. “You’re right about everything, you damnable mountain man. I know the blasted arrowhead has to come out. I'm not stupid.” He reached for the bottle of whiskey, bringing it to his lips. “I just don’t plan on being sober for this.”

  Micah slid his finger into the wound, producing a gush of blood. While Silas groaned wretchedly, he searched for the tip, digging as gently as he could. A moment later, he slowly began to withdraw his hand, bringing the arrow out bit-by-bit.

  “Mother of God!” shouted Silas, flinging his head back against the ground. “Ahhh … tarnation!”

  “You have it, don’t you?” Relief washed over me.

  “Almost there.” The arrowhead appeared a moment later, having been crafted from sharpened bone, the edges jagged. “A souvenir of your journeys.” He held the bloodied ivory up for inspection. “Fine work.” He glanced at me. “See if you can find a needle and thread. I hope Sheriff Palmer has a kit in there; otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to give us the bag. You sew rather well, from what I remember.”

  I swallowed uncomfortably. “I’m better at pillows and samplers,” I said weakly, dreading what might come.

  “Excellent. Then flesh shouldn’t be a challenge for you.” He grasped the bottle from Silas’s hands, dousing the wound with the fluid.

  “That stings like hell,” muttered Silas.

  “The arrow’s out.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  I found a small leather bundle in the sheriff’s pack, which contained a pair of scissors, thread, and a needle. “I guess this is what you were expecting to find.”