“I’m sorry,” I said again, shaking my own head. He let go of my arms and I swallowed, steeling myself one more time for what I had to do. The bear had moved a few feet more to my left, and I pivoted to follow her. “You can look away if you want to, Ah-Kee,” I said, bringing the pistol up.
The mama bear stood up, both paws on the boulder. Those black claws, longer than my fingers, scraped at the rock. Her eye looked up wetly at me, and I put it right in the sights of my papa’s pistol and got my heart ready to send a bullet into her brain.
But then, just before I pulled the trigger, I realized something was missing.
There weren’t no one screaming Chinese in my ear. I didn’t feel a scared body pressed up against mine, or hands holding on to my shoulders, or breathing in my ear.
I looked over my shoulder just in time to see Ah-Kee lower himself from the boulder top, and hop down onto the ground.
My heart dropped down to my feet.
“Ah-Kee what in the ever-loving world do you think you’re—” I hissed, but stopped, not wanting to alert the grizzly that Ah-Kee was on the ground with her, just on the other side of the boulder.
But there weren’t no need for my caution.
Ah-Kee didn’t scurry off, or try and hide, or any such thing.
Ah-Kee, arms at his sides and just as calm as you please, walked right around the boulder toward where that mama grizzly stood with her bloody claws and ready teeth and unshot eye, waiting to eat me.
And as he walked, he was talking. Nice and easy, low and calm, Ah-Kee was talking to that bear in Chinese.
When he rounded the corner, the bear’s head snapped over to look at him. I think she was as surprised as I was.
She dropped to all fours and took a fast angry step toward him, a growl hard and hungry in her throat, where I guessed a sizable chunk of Ah-Kee would soon be.
But Ah-Kee just stopped where he was and kept on talking, his voice mellow like a cracklin’ campfire. Like a river telling stories.
And that grizzly stopped, too. A few feet away from him, almost eye to eye with him, close enough no doubt to strike with those claws and bring his blood out.
I stood on top of that boulder, looking down on a mama grizzly and a Chinese orphan, a cocked pistol frozen in my hand.
The bear roared, a full and meaty roar with plenty of fierceness and fury in it—but the roar seemed to end in a kind of question mark. And she stood where she was. And Ah-Kee kept talking.
Then, as he talked, Ah-Kee reached with one hand into his shirt and pulled something out. I squinted to see. It was the carving, that little black bird. He held that stone bird out to the grizzly and told her all about it. And she stood there listening, sniffing at the wind and looking at the plum crazy boy in front of her.
I don’t know if I breathed or swallowed for two whole minutes or for however long it took for Ah-Kee to tell his story to that angry mama grizzly.
But then he was done. He bowed to her, stiff and quick, and then walked across the road a bit, away from her babies. He climbed a few steps up the bank on the side of the road and sat down, then put his hands on his knees and looked at the bear.
I doubt whether anyone had ever stood before that big old grizzly and talked to her. But I sure reckon no one ever stood in front of her and talked to her in Chinese. I don’t know what that bear was thinking, or what she was feeling. But she stood there looking at Ah-Kee for a minute, then she looked back up at me on the boulder, standing there stupidly and still pointing a gun at her. Then she grunted, and growled kinda to herself, and she walked down the road and back to her waiting cubs. They scampered forward to meet her, and together the three of them walked off into the trees.
I stood there for a second, catching my breath and collecting my wits, then I finally lowered the gun and uncocked the hammer.
I looked over at Ah-Kee. He looked up at me, his face expressionless.
“That was the dumbest thing I ever seen somebody do,” I said in wonder. “And it was the bravest, too.” A Chinese boy, thousands of miles from home, talking face-to-face with a mama grizzly to keep her cubs from becoming orphans. “I think my mama woulda liked you, Ah-Kee,” I said.
He said a few words back to me in Chinese. I cocked my head at him. He smiled, the biggest smile I’d seen crack his face, and pointed up at me, but a bit lower than my face. I looked down.
In all the excitement, I’d lost track of my britches. They’d fallen down again around my ankles. My drawers, too. I was standing there on top of a rock for all the world to see, with a pistol in my hand, naked as the day I was born from the waist down. A cool draft blew through my legs.
I heard Ah-Kee laugh for the first time as my face turned redder than a turkey’s wattle and I rushed to yank up my pants.
* * *
We camped that night just over the top of Colockum Pass. It was a fine feeling when we got to the top of our last uphill climb and saw the road heading down in front of us, rolling around bends into the great, spread-out valley below us. There were a lot more trees on this side of the mountains, and I could only see the road here and there through the timber until it disappeared.
Somewhere down there was the town of Ellensburg, where I hoped Ezra Bishop was gonna hold for a while so I could catch him. I scanned the forested hills below hungrily, hoping just maybe to see in the distance a man on a horse, leading a string of ponies that included a beautiful red-and-white paint with a notched ear. Everything was still, though, and quiet, and the whole landscape was falling into shadow as the sun got ready to set. My Sarah was nowhere to be seen. Part of me wanted to call, to holler her name with all the air in my lungs and let it echo down to wherever she was. I just knew that if she heard me call, she’d break any rope and brave any whip to get to me. But I knew it was no use. I sighed. At least I didn’t see any grizzlies.
I turned to Ah-Kee as he stepped up to where I was. “That’s it,” I said, sweeping my arm at the view before us. “No more up.” He leaned down with his hands on his knees to catch his breath, and nodded. I think he understood. A wind was starting to blow and it was sure enough cold, pushing right through the threads of my clothes and bringing gooseflesh out all over my body.
We found a spot between two big boulders for camp. There weren’t much talking this time, but right from the start we sat up against each other, both happy for the warmth of the other. The grizzly had left four deep, raw cuts in my leg that throbbed with a constant pain. I washed my leg off as best I could with water from our canteen, but I didn’t have no bandages or even cloth to wrap it with. I had to just hope I wouldn’t get no infection.
In the morning Ah-Kee shook me awake. I’d been lost in an uneasy dream that was half memory, with the biting sound of a shovel and the smell of fresh dirt and Papa standing with his arm around me, his body shaking with quiet sobs. It took me a confused moment to realize it was Ah-Kee shaking me and not Papa, but I was glad to let the sad cloud of that dream get blown out of my mind by the morning chill.
His voice was half whisper, half shout and sounded more excited than scared. I blinked my eyes and looked around to see what he was all agitated about.
Snow. All around us, covering the rocks and the trees and the brush. Not a lot, but enough to know it was snow and not just a heavy frost. It was even on our shoulders and knees. I brushed it off and couldn’t help but let a smile onto my face. I was shivering something fierce, but I’d always loved snow. It was still falling, but barely, just little flakes here and there dancing lightly down to the ground.
“Angel feathers,” I said quietly, watching it fall. Ah-Kee looked at me. “That’s what my sister called it. Katie.” Saying her name out loud like that, after so long, made me want to smile and cry at the same time. It made me feel a whole different kind of alone. “When there was snow like this in the morning, I used to say it looked like sugar, like the whole world had gotten candied overnight. But she insisted it was feathers from the wings of angels, flying around at night watc
hing over people.” Ah-Kee sat there and listened with his solemn eyes. I blew my breath out in a foggy cloud. “Let’s stoke the fire and eat some grub and hit the road.”
Going down a mountain was sure enough easier than battling up one and we made good time all morning, barely slowing down to eat our lunch when the sun was straight overhead and our bellies were growling. It was the last food from my satchel, giving me one more reason to want to get to Ellensburg as fast as we could.
We were rounding a bend through an especially thick part of the forest when I stopped short and held out an arm to stop Ah-Kee. I’d heard something, something out in the trees away from the road, but I wasn’t sure what. I prayed that it weren’t another grizzly, looking for one last meal before bedding down for the winter. At least I had my pants on this time.
I heard it again, and Ah-Kee did, too. We both tilted our heads in the same direction. The trees were so thick and close together that the road was almost dark.
There it was again, and now I was sure it was a voice. It sounded about fifty feet off the trail, out of sight through the underbrush. There were a few more low words and I realized it was a boy’s voice, and he sounded like he was in distress. I noticed something else, too; I was pretty sure he weren’t speaking English, and that he weren’t speaking Chinese, either.
I walked off the road a few feet, keeping my ears sharp and my feet quiet. I could feel Ah-Kee following behind.
A calm in the breeze brought the tree rustling to a quiet, and I heard a whole sentence clear as day. It was definitely a boy’s voice, and he sounded hurt. I hesitated. Walking into what could be danger ain’t never the smartest idea, and I had a horse to catch. But I knew Mama and Papa would never abide walking by when another soul needed help.
Then I heard another voice. It was a girl’s, and younger. She sounded little, and she sounded afraid. I didn’t wait, but charged straight off through the woods toward the voices.
I pushed through brush and ducked under branches and then came out into a little clear spot. As I broke through the last branches the voices stopped.
I stumbled to a halt. As Ah-Kee crashed up behind me, my eyes took in the scene before me.
It was Indians.
Two of ’em. A boy, older and taller than me, his bare arms taut with muscles. And a girl, five or six years old, with her arms around him and a terrified look on her face.
The boy’s eyes narrowed. He bared his teeth like a wolf and snarled a word low and mean in his native tongue. A shaft of sunlight through the treetops gleamed on the long knife blade held in his hand as he ducked into a crouch and lunged toward me.
I jumped back from the boy with the knife, bumping into Ah-Kee. Our legs got tangled and we both tumbled to the ground. I started crab-crawling away, Ah-Kee scrambling right beside me, our feet skittering and sliding in the pine needles on the forest floor until I backed right into a big ol’ tree trunk and came to a sudden and painful stop.
My hand darted to my satchel for the pistol but stopped when I saw that the Indian wasn’t getting any closer. In fact, he was lying on the ground, right where I’d last seen him. The girl was standing over him, looking at me and Ah-Kee with big scared eyes.
I took a few deep breaths to calm my heart and then rose slow and careful up to my feet. Ah-Kee stood by my side. The Indian was holding his leg with both hands and wincing, his face screwed up in pain.
“You’re hurt,” I said, taking a step forward. He growled a sharp string of words at me and rose to one knee, swiping the knife in the air. His eyes flashed with a red-hot angry fire that stopped me cold, but then his face went pale, and he clutched at his leg and almost toppled over again. It was clear as anything that he was in a heckuva lot of pain.
“It’s all right,” I said, keeping my voice calm and quiet. “We don’t mean you no harm.” I slid the satchel off my shoulder and set it down, then took a small step toward him with my hands open and held out so he could see they were empty.
His body tensed, but there was no more cursing or slashing with the knife.
“What you got going on here?” I asked, taking two more steps closer and squinting at his leg. I gasped when I saw it.
“Good Lord Almighty,” I breathed. “You done broke your ankle.” I could see it easy, even from a few feet away. His ankle was swollen up like a watermelon, and the skin all around it was stained with dark purple bruises. His foot dangled, twisted at an unnatural angle. I couldn’t imagine the pain he was in.
His eyes were still on me, but they held a little less raw fury than they had a moment before. I held his gaze and nodded, then pointed at his mangled ankle. “That’s bad,” I said. “Real bad.” He blinked but said nothing.
I took another step toward him and he said something quick to the girl crouched at his side. She sprang to her feet and started backing away across the clearing toward the trees and underbrush at the other side.
“No,” I said, taking a step back. “Don’t run. We’ll leave you be.”
I took another backward step and the girl rushed back to his side, wrapping her arms tight around his waist and looking at me with fearful eyes. They were big and round and shiny wet. Just like my sister Katie’s had been when she’d been scared.
I hesitated.
That boy was not getting anywhere with the shape his ankle was in.
I blew all my breath out. I knew I couldn’t just walk away and leave them like that. Mama and Papa would have never allowed it.
But that Indian’s knife wasn’t looking any friendlier.
My mind raced, looking for what to do next, and words from my mama came back to me: “There ain’t no problem between people so big that it can’t be solved by folks sitting down and talking about it.” Mama was generally right about anything that really mattered, but I wasn’t sure if that particular piece of wisdom would work if the folks sitting down didn’t speak the same language.
But then I remembered Ah-Kee and the bear. And I figured if a grizzly can be calmed by listening to a bunch of Chinese, there must be something to it.
So I sat down. Right there in the dirt. Quick, before the girl could disappear. And I started talking.
“We’re just traveling down the road,” I began, “and we heard you talking over here. My name is Joseph, and this here is Ah-Kee. We’re heading to Ellensburg, coming from Wenatchee.”
The Indian boy blinked, listening. I made my voice real casual, like we was just talking over bread and butter at a church picnic. The girl was watching me, too, real careful.
“I’m after a man who bought my horse from another man who had no right to sell her. Her name is Sarah and she’s as fine a horse as any you’ll ever come across. She means—” I stopped, surprised at how quick my emotion had come up. I swallowed it down and kept on going in my easy, friendly voice. “She means the whole world to me. And there ain’t nothing I won’t do or nowhere I won’t go to get her back.”
The boy looked wary but a whole lot calmer.
“I can see you broke your ankle there,” I said, gesturing at it. “We don’t have any food to offer, and as far as I know neither one of us is a doctor, but I reckon between us we can help you get wherever it is you need to get to, so long as it’s not too far.”
I knew that Indian probably didn’t understand a plum word of what I said. But I reckon my mama was right after all; he could sure enough tell that Ah-Kee and me didn’t mean no harm.
He sat there thinking for a second, then he slid his knife into a leather holster on his belt and nodded. He said a few words at me and I don’t know what they meant exactly, but they were clear enough, so I stood up and grabbed my satchel and walked over to where he was crouching. I helped him up to his feet.
Ah-Kee was hunkered down where we’d fallen at the edge of the clearing, watching us carefully. I put the Indian’s arm over my shoulder so he could lean on me. The girl stood off a ways, watching us just as closely as Ah-Kee was.
“Come on, Ah-Kee,” I said, beckoning him
over with a hand. I could tell he wasn’t so sure, but he walked on over and took the Indian’s other side. “All right,” I said, looking into the Indian’s eyes, “where we going?”
He just looked at me, trying to understand. I swept a hand out, gesturing at the forest around us. “Which way?”
There was a flicker of understanding in his face and he spoke a few words to the girl, who gave him one more unsure look and then headed off through the woods, back toward the road. Ah-Kee and I followed her, the Indian limping between us.
Despite my calm voice, my heart was hammering in my chest. I was in the grip of an actual, real-life Indian. I could feel the power in his muscles, even hurt as he was. I knew that knife was still right there at his waist. In my mind I heard all the terrible stories that settlers told about the vicious Indians. If this Indian suddenly changed his mind and decided he wanted my scalp, he’d have it long before I got my papa’s pistol out.
We stumbled our way down the road a fair piece, then the girl led us off on a well-worn trail that ran south. The Indian’s weight was taking its toll on my back and shoulders, and Ah-Kee and I had to stop from time to time to rest and trade sides. We were heading up a steep little hill through a mix of sage and pine when I heard the first sounds: whooping and hollering and thundering hooves, coming from over the rise we were climbing. There was a wild sound to it. My heart wanted to slow down but the Indian caught a spark of new life when he heard it and picked up his pace considerable. The girl ran eagerly ahead and disappeared over the top, her black braids bouncing as she ran.
Ah-Kee leaned forward to look at me around the Indian we were carrying. He said a good long sentence to me, his voice tense and nervous.
“We’ll be all right, Ah-Kee,” I said, wishing I felt as confident about that as I sounded.
We topped the rise and stopped to catch our breath and take in the view.
Below us, on a flat piece of land surrounded by hills and drops in every direction, was a crazy buzzing circus of life. There was a scattered crowd of Indians, more than a hundred, easy. There were teepees and smoking fires and horses everywhere, with the Indians in clusters all around and in between. Kids ran to and fro, chasing each other and shouting and playing.
Some Kind of Courage Page 4