The next morning Wolf and I pack up our camp and hit the spirit animal trail.
“Look,” says Wolf.
I move my eyes out to where Wolf is looking.
“Bitch,” I say. Our spirit dog has joined us.
“Good omen,” says Wolf.
“Hey, girl,” I say happily.
Wolf and I dismount. I reach down to pet her as she sidles up to me, wagging her tail. Then she lays down, offers her belly and Wolf pets it.
“Good dog,” he says.
After the reunion Wolf and I mount up. Bitch trots along behind.
“There,” Wolf says. He points with his chin toward a big cottonwood tree.
I stop my horse while I look over and scan the branches with my eyes. Bitch is next to us looking at the tree also.
“Yeah, I see something moving,” I say. “But wait, those are bears.”
“Two cubs, one girl,” says Wolf.
“Oh shit, yeah, I see her. Wow, she’s agile. Look at them climb.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Maybe she really was raised by bears,” I say.
“Who know? She not talk,” says Wolf. “So, we make up story. Not act like raised by human, but could be raised by wolves instead.”
“Hey, is she white enough to be a spirit human?”
Wolf laughs and says, “Maybe, after bath.”
“Shall we rope her and clean her up?” I say, joking.
“Crazy Annie. Mose not like us roping his partner,” says Wolf.
After a minute, he adds wryly, “To be spirit human she need white skin, white hair. Eyes not matter. Just like animals.”
“Maybe Mose would thank us. She must be rank.”
“Trapper like rank, they catch skunk,” says Wolf. “Next time we see Mose, we ask. Wolf never hear of spirit human before.”
“High time then.”
“Mm,” Wolf says, nodding his head pensively. “Human, but wild, untamed.”
“Unspoiled by all the crap that we know of in the universe.”
“Yes, essence of humankind,” he adds.
A few miles have passed under our horses’ hooves when Wolf says quietly, “Not look back.”
“Why?”
“Our spirit woman follows.”
“So, she is a spirit woman?”
“We see. Bitch not worried, good sign.”
I sneak a peek back. “Holy cow, Bitch is walking with her. Her tail is wagging. She passed our spirit dog’s test.”
“Uh huh.” Wolf is holding his medicine bag.
I am fairly sure that he is consulting his own spirits. I hold my tongue so he can.
Our journey takes us across hill and dale. We also go over a river and through some woods. When we get to the far edge of the woods there is a nice little babbling brook. It is close enough to the trees that we will have plenty of firewood.
I am trailing along behind the packhorses and Wolf is leading them.
I yell, “Hey, Wolf.”
He looks back inquiringly.
“Gettin’ near sunset. What say we make camp?”
He nods, looks about, walks his horse over to a likely tree and starts catching up the pack animals. I grab one, too, and ride over to join him.
As we are unsaddling, I ask, “Ain’t seen the Shaz lately. You?”
“She and Bitch upstream a bit, fishin’.”
How she do that? I didn’t see a pack.”
“Shaz survivor. Likely have line and hook in pocket.”
“Be somethin’ if we could get her talkin’. Hear the whole story. Damn.”
Wolf looks over his shoulder as he pulls a latigo through the dee rings and says, “First, get her to come to fire.”
“How we do thet?”
“Like Bitch. Take time. Also like this white horse here was wild Rock horse, Wolf not catch, Wolf wait, practice patience. With time him come to Wolf.”
“Okay, we kin wait,” I say, agreeably.
By the time we get the lean-to built and a nice bed of coals for cooking, there is a pretty good nip in the air.
“This wind blowin’ up a storm you think?”
“Mm, winter sneak up on us,” says Wolf as he wraps a blanket around his shoulders.
I pull my hat down lower so it doesn’t blow off and continue searching my saddlebags for my gloves and scarf.
“Real contrast to our nice sunny day,” I say as I pull the gloves on. My hands are grateful.
There are six nice trout laying on a rock by the fire. Already cleaned. We thread them on sticks and poke the sticks in the ground so that the fish hang out over the coals to roast. We pour up coffee and add a bit of frostbite medicine. Bitch has come over to the other side of the fire. Not too close, as she has a mighty thick fur coat built in.
Wolf throws her four fish fillets, which she picks up and carries under a nearby tree.
“See?” says Wolf.
I look over at Bitch.
“I’ll be damned. Never saw no dog share a meal.”
Bitch holds the fish fillets up. We can see hands come out from behind the tree trunk. Shaz takes them, goes over to the crick and washes the dirt off. They go back and sit under the tree to eat together.
The next morning after a three-log night, I open my eyes to see what my nose has detected. There is a deer haunch cooking over the coals. Shaz is not in evidence.
I look over at Wolf. He is still wrapped in his soogans, smiling at me.
“Did I sleep through yore whole deer hunt, and the butcherin’ and also the cookin’? And then you went back to bed?”
“Wolf not hunt. Wolf sleep.”
“Shaz hunted it?” I ask.
Wolf nods.
“I like that girl.”
We get up and kick our way through the light fall of snow to perform our morning ablutions at the crick. By then, the coffee is boiling. We drink and eat. Soon our bellies are full of venison.
“Plenty meat. Wolf planned to put girl on horse today. No room now. Deer meat ride horse.”
“We can take turns walkin’. If’n she’ll ride a horse.”
Wolf nods.
Suddenly Shaz comes running up to the fire. She is buck naked and dripping wet.
Wolf stands up and holds a blanket out to her. She shies back.
“Whoa now girl,” he says. “Blanket make you warm.”
He takes a couple of steps and sets the blanket on a rock, then turns back to resume his seat by me.
We turn toward each other and talk quietly, careful to avoid looking at Shaz.
“Might be time to turn back. If’n this weather sets up bad, we could get snowed in out here,” I say.
“We saddle up, see how sky look,” says Wolf.
We decide to have more coffee while we wait for Shaz to dry off. I get up to pour it and once again, Shaz looks ready to head for the trees. I shrug and pour a cup for her, too.
Wolf sets the cup on the blanket rock for her. Then, he sits back down. Smaller people are less scary. She walks warily over and picks up the cup. When she gets directly across the fire, opposite us, she relaxes some and sips the hot liquid.
Wolf says, “Mose feed you.”
She looks up, apparently at the sound of Mose’ name.
Wolf starts again, “Mose feed you coffee at camp?”
Her eyes are huge.
“Mose good man, partner to you. Wolf not speak like Mose, different sounds but same words. In time, Shaz understand.”
Shaz blinks at the sound of her name. Then she nods.
“Progress,” I whisper.
After several more one-sided speeches on Wolf’s part, Shaz is lookin’ dry. She wanders over under her tree and suits up in her bear woman clothes. No doubt they are hand tailored by her and Mose.
In the meantime, I have caught up the horses and saddled most of them. Wolf comes over to help me finish. After one last check of the hitches and cinches, we mount up.
Wolf looks at me and says, “You head back the way we came.”
So I do.
Soon, he hoots. I Iook back and can see Shaz out in the opening beyond Wolf. Shaz is headed the other way .
So I turn back, too. As I jog up beside Wolf, he says, “We follow girl. She lead us to spirit buffalo.”
“Maybe she is just headed out on walkabout.”
“Mnh,” says Wolf. “Walkabout just what Wolf and Annie need. Plus odds in Wolf favor.”
“Odds?” I ask
“Two girl, one Wolf,” he says and grins.
16 Bear
Cowgirl Thrillers Page 68