Naked in the Winter Wind

by Dani Haviland

  Hours passed; eventually my eyes started tearing and my legs started twitching. I was getting tired and needed my sleep. “That’s it for the reading tonight. Is there anything we need to do before we turn in?”

  Little Bear was still sitting on the ground, his long legs stretched out luxuriously. He gave a full body stretch, yawned, and, almost as an afterthought, covered his mouth. “No, and there’s not much to take care of in the morning. I’ll see if I can catch a few fish for our breakfast, and then we’ll wait for Ian to return. You can catch up on your reading, if you’d like.”

  “Maybe I’ll try some fishing, too,” I mumbled as I rearranged my bedding. “See you in the morning. If I forgot to say it earlier, thanks for dinner and, well, everything.”

  I quickly pulled the elk robe over my head. I didn’t want to talk. I never realized how miserable it was not having something, anything, to look forward to. I didn’t have to fuss for breakfast, wood for the fire was taken care of, and, gee, I was useless!

  My life as I knew it had been taking care of Ian, and then journeying with him to be with his family. I had always been busy and been needed. My chores had been defined by necessity. Now I was getting depressed because I wasn’t needed. Weird; this seemed like a problem I’d had before. Maybe it was from my former life. That was something else I didn’t want to think about. Go to sleep, woman. I began counting backwards: one hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight…

  Ӂ

  Something was wrong: I didn’t hear any birds chirping. Then I heard something else: the garbled tones of Ian and Little Bear. They were standing together on the far side of the fire. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I doubt the volume of their voices made a difference. The singsong rhythm meant they weren’t speaking English. I lay still, waiting to see how long it took them to notice I was awake.

  It didn’t take long. They both stopped talking and turned toward me, looking to see if my eyes were open. “What, did I just stop snoring or something?” I asked defensively.

  “No, darlin’, ye have a beautiful musical tone when ye sleep. The melody stopped and we both noticed. Are ye well?”

  “Oh, I’ll do,” I answered morosely. I huffed, suddenly angry, recalling my suspicions about why he’d left. “Did you get your ‘business’ taken care of?” I snapped.

  I wanted to be cool, indifferent, but my voice betrayed my true feelings. I didn’t like being the second banana for my head ape; I wanted the top banana position. What business did he have that was more important than me, his wife?

  “Now, dinna worry about my business, mind ye. We can be at my uncle’s house before sunset. We’ll have to leave soon, though. That is, if yer up to it.”

  The genuine concern in his voice made me feel guilty about my original snotty attitude. “I’m sorry for being so short. How was your trip?”

  I got up slowly and awkwardly, accepting his helping hand. I remembered how uncomfortable he was when he gave me a kiss good-bye the day before, so leaned into him, my face to his shoulder, and gave him a big hug, saving my ‘welcome home’ kiss for later. I did sneak a quick little pat on his bottom as I finished the hug, though; making sure Little Bear was on the blind side of my personal gesture. Still in our embrace, I looked up and saw Ian give me a big grin. Whatever had happened in the last twenty hours or so, he seemed to feel better about himself now than he had before he left.

  Ӂ

  It only took a few grabs and stashes to get all our gear packed, and then we were on our way. We were all in good spirits. The men were walking at their normal rate, but their legs were longer than mine, and I had to kick it up a notch to keep up. I was fine with the brisk pace because I had excess energy to burn. I was hyper—wound up like a ten-inch rubber band—about meeting Ian’s family.

  We walked for hours without taking a real break. I scooted off for my personal comfort moments, i.e. potty breaks, but I was quick, and we never had to come to a complete halt. Ian had offered to stop for lunch so I could get off my feet, but I declined. I was excited and wanted to keep going. It was almost as if I could smell new people, new experiences, on the horizon. But the aroma of civilization was just an illusion, fabricated out of my own hopes. Still, it was enticing, pulling me along into the fantasy. I was like a kitten tracking down the scent of a catnip-filled toy that had been dragged through the yard, intrigued and determined to get to the treasure, even though it wasn’t visible. I wanted to see other people, people who wore clothes that didn’t reek of dead animal skins, and hopefully, at least one other female person. Oh, to be in the presence of estrogen and hair brushes!

  Now, only one obstacle lay in our path: the river. It was angry, swift, and swollen, and seemed to be in a hurry to reach the ocean—or wherever its destination might be. There was no shoreline. Bushes and trees from the forest, once free standing, disappeared into its flow, the newly immersed botanicals struggling to keep their earthen hold. There wasn’t any scouring on the banks either—the water had reached a new high point and was twisting and torquing tree limbs and branches, creating a series of giant sparrow’s nests along its route.

  Nope, I didn’t want to cross it, but I knew it was the shortest—and possibly the only—route. The men wouldn’t lead us—lead me—across a river that wasn’t conquerable, would they? My first thought was, no, they would keep me out of harm’s way because I was a female—frail, delicate, and all that nonsense. Then again, there was twice the amount of testosterone at work here. I hoped they weren’t underestimating the severity of the situation because they didn’t want to appear apprehensive in front of me—or each other.

  “I shall lead the way,” Ian announced formally.

  Little Bear’s eyes opened wide at the proclamation, but his mouth stayed closed.

  Ian turned to look at me with doe eyes. “If there‘s a problem, I’ll be the one in peril. Once across, ye can follow safely since I’ll have found the shallow spots and will be able to lend ye a hand. Little Bear and the mule can bring up the rear.”

  Ian looked so proud of his decision that I hated to make a comment. However, our lives and safety were at stake. “Can I make a suggestion?” I asked cautiously.

  “Aye, of course.” Ian appeared shocked and chagrined that I would even think to add to or amend his command, but he was wearing his courtesy coat, allowing me to offer an opinion.

  I saw a giggle in Little Bear’s eyes, but he was doing a good job of hiding the smirk that had crossed his face when I spoke up, quickly getting it under control, making sure Ian never saw it.

  Very cautiously, and with spousal respect, I offered my proposal. “I have that fancy blue Italian rope in my backpack. We can tie it around your waist. If you slip or get carried away, we can pull you back. Once you get to the other side, you can tie it off to a tree. I’ll have something to hang onto the whole way across; I can grab it if I start to fall. I don’t think it’ll work for the mule, but at least Little Bear and I will be safer when we cross.”

  I could tell I had put Ian on the spot with my idea. It was a wise plan and he knew it.

  “Of course we would be using the rope. I thought ye understood that,” he countered…or…rather, covered up.

  My big smile was half smirk, “Oh, yes dear, I guess you did mean that. I must be getting a bit fuddle-headed with fatigue.”

  I glanced over at Little Bear. He had his forefinger curved over to his upper lip, obviously using his hand to hide a grin, and possibly stifling a chuckle to boot.

  It was never wise to insult or belittle a spouse or friend, especially in front of others. I wasn’t going to do it now or ever. I just wished that Ian hadn’t tried to make me look small by claiming my idea as his own. Insecurity was possibly impairing his judgment. If it was because he was jealous of another man—that bright, intelligent, good-looking man with material goods in the way of furs who had joined our little company—well, I hope it left when Little Bear did, and never came back again.

  The trip across the river was anxi
ous, but successful. Unfortunately, I started developing a headache as soon we made it to the other side. Its onslaught was sudden and excruciating. I didn’t say anything because—besides the fact that the men couldn’t do anything about it—I didn’t want to delay our arrival.

  We stopped for a short break as soon as we reached solid ground so Little Bear could readjust the mule’s load. I rested with my feet up while they did the work. I also ate a little of the pemmican and drank lots of water. The headache was probably the result of dehydration from the extra effort of the long, arduous trek. Hopefully, the food and water would take care of it. I didn’t want to meet new family with a migraine!

  We had only traveled about twenty minutes more when Little Bear signaled us to a stop. “My friends, this is where we part company. I have enjoyed your companionship and camaraderie. I will always treasure the memory of our time together.”

  Ian walked up to him and said something in that native language. The two of them unlashed our meager portion of the mule’s load: my backpack and his bundle with our foodstuffs and robe. They exchanged a few more hand gestures that reminded me of a salute, and then they were done.

  Little Bear turned to me and bowed deeply. “Madam, it has definitely been a pleasure. I wish you well in all of your endeavors and with your new family.” He winked at the word ‘family,’ then brought my hand to his lips and gave the lightest of kisses.

  I hated to admit it, but his gesture gave me shivers up my spine—and not of disgust either. He was well mannered, good looking, kind, and generous. I smiled at him, said, “Thank you,” then looked up at Ian.

  Oops. If looks could hit, Little Bear would have just been roundhouse punched. Thankfully, Little Bear was oblivious to the glare and was already heading off to his destination in the opposite direction.

  I walked over to Ian, took his hands in mine, brought him close, and stood on my tiptoes, face to face with his stony countenance. “Remember who I’ll be sleeping with tonight,” I admonished. “Jealousy is only for the insecure. I have given you no reason to be jealous, and Little Bear has shown us nothing but kindness. There’s no harm in a little kiss on the paw. You’d probably enjoy one, too, if you hadn’t seen a woman in six months. If you did the same to another female, I wouldn’t be jealous. You’d still come home to me, wouldn’t you?”

  Ian’s face relaxed. “Aye, I would. I guess I’m anxious to be gettin’—oh, I wish I could say ‘home.’ Come on, we’d best be goin’. We still have a couple of hours of daylight. Hopefully we’ll get there before it’s completely dark.” Ian bent down, stared deep into my eyes, and then gave me a long, wet, full-mouthed kiss that took my breath away, literally.

  “Wow,” I exclaimed, grinning broadly, “I feel better. We’d better go before I decide to set up camp right now and put off our arrival until tomorrow, so we can spend some quality time together.”

  “I’m not quite sure what ye mean by ‘quality,’ but yer givin’ me quite the appetite, and it’s nae fer food. Aye, but I do think its best we leave right now. I dinna trust the weather to keep fine fer another day. I dinna want to make the last few miles in a late winter storm.”

  We shared a tight hug and a gentle, less passionate kiss, then were back on our way, the jealousy episode forgotten—I hoped. Ian was such a guarded person, I didn’t know if it still bothered him or not. For all I knew, he was planning his revenge.

  Revenge: that was probably why Ian had disappeared for two days. He never got over the attack I had rescued him from. I was pretty sure that in his mind, the only recompense for his pain and humiliation was the elimination of his tormentors. He wouldn’t talk about it, and I knew now not to bring it up. I had once mentioned that I believed God would punish those men for what they did. Ian puckered up all over when I said that. “Let’s not speak of God and those heathens in the same breath,” he had said. And so I never spoke of it again.

  The rest of the trip was easy going for our feet and legs. Most of the snow was gone, so we could see where the stumble-sized rocks, holes, and fallen branches were. The lack of leaves on the bushes and trees made the straighter, shorter routes easier to see. If it had been any other season, the foliage would have hidden the ground and everything else except the sky, and maybe even that.

  Yes, my feet and legs were fine, but my headache was increasing by the furlong. The sun was getting low, and we were losing our light. Ian had told me an hour earlier that we were only about two miles away. I knew a usual walking pace was about three miles per hour, but we were traveling slower because of the uneven terrain, and even more so because of me.

  I didn’t say anything, but Ian, of course, saw something was wrong. My head hurt so much I could hardly walk. I was lagging behind, even at our slow pace.

  He took the few steps back to where I was, and placed one hand on my shoulder, lifting my chin with the other. “Is there something wrong, darlin’? Is it that yer afraid of meetin’ my family?”

  I winced as I looked up at him. I started to shake my head ‘no,’ then thought better of it. “It’s my head; it feels like my skull has shrunk and my brains are being squeezed out my eye sockets. I, I...”

  I quickly turned away from Ian and threw up, managing to miss my boots. Ian offered me his—rather my—handkerchief and patiently, quietly waited while I cleaned up.

  I turned into him, laid my cheek against his chest, and gave a long, slow sigh. “I feel better now,” I said. “I do want to meet your family, I want it very much. I don’t feel very well, and would love a nap, but, then again, I don’t want to stop while we’re so close. So, if I get so sick that I can’t walk, you have my permission to sling me over your shoulder and haul my whiney butt there.”

  Ian looked down at my upturned face, leaned forward, and kissed me on the forehead, discretely avoiding my mouth. “It will be jest fine when we get there, I promise.” He put his hands on my shoulders, held me at arm’s length, and asked, “Now, are ye ready fer this, or shall I toss ye over my shoulder like a lamb right now?”

  I brought up my arm and sniggered a laugh into the back of my hand. “Oh, I think I have a few good steps left in me. But if I start to fall, please, catch me before I hit the ground.”

  We took off with Ian at point and me trying to keep up. I did fine for the first ten minutes or so. Then the sun got so low that the shadows cast on the ground were confusing me. I couldn’t differentiate between depths and heights of holes, roots, and stones—the ground configuration in general. I felt stupid stepping over fallen branches that weren’t there, and tripping over what I thought was a dip in the ground.

  Ian looked behind and saw my confusion. “Here, jest hold my arm; I’ll escort ye. I’ll tell ye if there’s a hole, or somethin’ ye need to step over.”

  I glanced up and saw that Ian was putting on a show for me. I caught the end of his broad gesture of bowing before me, showing me the way. I managed a slight smile. At least, I hoped he saw it as a smile. It felt like a sneer coming from my lips—the right side of my face wasn’t turning up where it should.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but the headache got worse. I was seeing bright explosions of light—popping like white fireworks—inside my eyeballs. My field of vision was closing in on itself, swirling tighter and tighter. What had started out as narrowed vision was now reduced to a dangerously limited field, like looking through a long length of garden hose. Even the little bit of light and shadow I was able to see hurt my eyes, my face, my whole head.

  It took all of my concentration to maintain the minimal requirements of composure. Walking, breathing, not barfing, all at the same time—it was a complex, difficult juggle for me. There was no way I could add talking to my performance, so we walked in silence.

  Ian seemed to have a lot on his mind, too, but I doubted it was trying to keep intense pain in check. I didn’t even try to think about him or meeting his family. Step, breathe, step, step, gasp, hold breath, step, step, try not to fall down, step, push fingertips of right hand
over spot in middle of forehead and press, hoping for relief, wince, then continue plodding along.

  Something happened; I must have fallen down, or at least tripped. Ian reached out and grabbed me, containing my collapse, and then the pain and awareness were gone.

  *22 Jody’s encounters

  Little Bear continued on his trek, enjoying his grin of contentment. It was all he had left from his brief visit with young Evie, but that day-and-a-half encounter with her gave him more warmth than he had felt in years—probably since he had lived in his grandmother’s comfortable manse. It wasn’t lust he felt, but pure happiness to be able to spend time with such a wonderful and intelligent young woman. He frowned briefly. She wasn’t his—that would have been nice—but surely Ian wouldn’t let her or the baby come to any harm, no matter what he had planned.

  He stopped when he heard the rustle, but shrugged it off as squirrels or some other small animal life, and used the break to adjust the load on the back of his mule.

  One of these days, maybe he’d find a wife…

  Ӂ

  Jody was on his way home from a scouting mission when he spotted the golden-haired man wearing Indian buckskin. The two of them had seen each other previously at the trader’s in Gibsonville, but didn’t know each other except by sight. It seemed like a good time to stop for a break and an introduction.

  “Hallo!”

  The loud voice boomed out and startled Little Bear. He turned around and couldn’t see anyone. Suddenly the traveler, a big white man with red hair, appeared fifteen feet in front of him. By his size, he should have made more noise in his approach, but the gregarious man apparently knew his way around these woods and had been able to sneak up on him.

  The two exchanged names and greetings, and then transitioned into brief hunting and weather reports, avoiding any controversial issues. Little Bear no longer cared about what was going on with the war, as long as the Colonists and the Loyalists didn’t get in the way of his trapping.