Praise for A Father’s Love
A lovely Story...Two children are caught up in a tree in the forest, trapped by a mother bear that seems to feel threatened by the children. The raging animal won't leave and forces them to stay put for hours in the cold and snow.... wondering if they'll ever get down or back home to their family.
Mimi Barbour, Author
This short story is sure to delight young readers who will be captivated by what happens to David and Rose.
~ The Book BagLady Reviews
“This delightful short story is sure to captivate the young reader's imagination. A terrific first book for starting a reluctant reader onto a path of reading and enjoying books. Don't pass up this opportunity.”
Tom Dye
“Father's Love" is reminiscent of Laura Ingalls Wilder's 'Little House' book series. An enjoyable story about family love, and the lengths all creatures will go to in order to protect it.”
Readers Favorite ~ Reviewer ~ Anastasia
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The Gift – December 24, 1926
“Make sure you and Rose are back before sundown.”
Fourteen-year-old David Lattimer couldn’t contain his excitement, no more than he could hold back a big toothy grin as he waved to his father outside their four-room log cabin. Smoke drifted neatly from the stovepipe into the chilly island air.
David trudged through the damp underbrush wearing three pairs of thick wool socks in his father’s old, loose leather boots. Rose, his ten-year-old sister, dogged his heels as she did every day. Her pigtails stuck out from under the ridiculous wool green hat he’d swear had been a cast off from the poor box. Rose was a tiny sprite of a girl, with freckles and brown eyes, wearing his old brown coat over his too small overalls. She had to roll up the pant legs and stuff the edges into her black boots, which did come from the poor box, to be able to wear them.
Rose skipped ahead of David, swinging her arms.
“Rose, stay behind me. The path’s too narrow up here, and you’re going to be soaked before I find the goose.” He expected her to whine, complain and to argue. However, she surprised the heck out of him when she obediently pulled in behind him on the narrow path in the thick forest, filled with old fir and cedar, on the forty acre parcel owned by his family near Cameron Lake, on Vancouver Island.
David’s longish hair drooped in front of his eyes. He yanked off one of his red wool mitten with his teeth and tucked his thick brown hair under his dark wool cap. He knew it was time for a haircut when his mother teased he was beginning to look like a girl.
Over his left shoulder, David cradled the Winchester ten-gauge single load shotgun. The one bequeathed from Grandfather George. He took his role as big brother seriously, making sure the gun wasn’t pointed at Rose.
David grinned; he still couldn’t believe his father’s surprise this morning. This year, David got to hunt the Christmas Goose. A tradition passed down by his grandfather to his father. He patted his right pocket, double checking the ten spare shell casings were still where he’d put them.
“How far do we have to walk? And where are we going to find the goose?” Rose had such a high-pitched voice, at times chattering non-stop, his poor ears ached from listening to her rattle on. If he didn’t answer her, she’d keep asking.
“We’ll head down towards Cameron Lake. That’s where Dad and I saw a flock of winter geese the other day.”
“But that’s an hour away.” Rose trailed behind, her voice squeaked like a wagon wheel that needed greasing. David was tempted to tell her to go home. But he wanted a goose and knew his father would be angry if Rose went home alone.
“Would you stop complaining? You didn’t have to come.” David walked faster because he knew that’d really piss her off.
A tightly packed snowball slammed into the back of his head, causing David to stumble. He spun around and glared at his stubborn little sister. What stung more, his head or pride, David wasn’t sure. Short, tough and determined, described Rose to a tee. Her lips scrunched up and she looked like a mad little bee. David knew, first hand, her fiery temper would lead her, head on, into a scrap. Why, just last week she sucker punched him with a solid jab to the bridge of his nose and he’d swear he’d bled like a stuck pig. But then, she’d caught him off guard, entirely by surprise, which was a low blow. Even his parents had been furious, but then they didn’t know he’d goaded her by laughing at the silly nickname. The boys at school had cat-called Rose “Sweepy” over and over. And that was all because Mama waved goodbye to Rose, calling her “Sweet Pea” in front of the town kids.
Nevertheless, his daddy drilled into him some hard honourable lessons; no matter what, you don’t hit a girl, ever. Right now he wanted to shoot a goose, not scrap with Rose. So, David swallowed his pride and nearly choked on the hard lump burning his throat. What he did do, was walk faster still. Let her run.
“David, slow down, you’re going too fast. David, aren’t you going to answer me?”
David whipped around so fast Rose bumped into him. “No Rose! Stop it. I’m not going to fight with you. All I want is to find the geese, shoot one and go home. That’s it, and if you’re going to keep talking, you’re gonna scare them away, so be quiet.” He didn’t wait for a response. David hurried through the brush staying on the same familiar trail winding its way down to the lake. To Rose’s credit, she didn’t argue. She let out a huff, closed her mouth and dogged David’s heels again.
They strode lower into the valley. The air was damper, heavier with mist. He knew they were close to the lake. A thick mix of fir, cedar and alder trees surrounded them, forming an umbrella overhead. The overgrown path, which had most likely been created by antelope and deer, led down to their water source. David patted the twin fir. This was the lower part of the trail right before the open grove, not far from the lake.
A glimmer of black flashed from the corner of his eye. He sucked a breath, and then another, before it registered in his head what it was. But by then, his heart had already slammed his throat shut, choking off any reasonable sound while his back broke out in a cold prickly sweat. “Get up a tree!” David somehow managed to croak out the panicked words in a low scratchy voice, sounding nothing like his, even to his own ears.
David swiveled his head between a bundled up Rose, standing frozen as a mouse, and the curious bear cub. Her mouth gaped, her big eyes filling with fear, a poison which raised the hair on the back of David’s neck.
“Back away move slowly toward the tree, hurry, Rose.” She didn’t move. David backed away from the cub and stepped on Rose’s foot. Her breath wheezed, maybe that’s what knocked some sense into her. She grabbed his arm with a shaky hand and moved.
A second cub wandered from behind an old cedar. Rose stumbled. “Get up, Rose.” And she did, just as David somehow boosted her up, so she could grab the first branch. She’d just scampered onto the branch when a low growl split the icy air and crashed through the underbrush. David didn’t know how he did it, but somehow he leaped six feet up onto the first thick branch. Planting his hand on Rose’s butt, he shoved hard. “Faster, go, Rose go! She’s right behind us!”
Reach, pull, step. One foot after the other, he climbed each thick branch of this Douglas Fir. Rose was quick and appeared to fly up the tree as she grabbed a branch, pushed off, grabbed the next, higher and higher, until they climbed more than halfway up that old growth tree. And when David glanced down his blood turned to ice as he stared at the steel shotgun in the dirt, right where Mama Bear circled in fur
y. She growled and pawed at the base of the tree, while her cubs wandered behind her.
“David, is it a black bear?”
“Yes, dang it. And she’s not happy.”
Rose dangled on the branch above him. She was breathing heavily, like she’d raced up a mountain. David held onto the branch above him and glanced up. Her large, innocent eyes pleaded for him to do something. They had to be about a hundred feet up, high enough to be safe unless mama decided to come after them.
“What are a black bear and her cubs doing out this time of year? Aren’t they supposed to be hibernating?”
The bear continued to charge, crazed, her wispy snarl short and rough, as she dug and clawed at the ground, circling the tree.
“David, is she going to climb up here? What are we going to do?” Rose perched on the branch above him.
“I don’t know.” David was abrupt.
Rose began to whimper. David couldn’t console her; he had enough to do holding himself together. Tears burned his eyes, and his throat throbbed with something thick and gooey. How long would it be before their father would come looking for them? He hoped it’d be soon; except his stomach sank with the realization that Dad wouldn’t start looking until sundown. Then how far would he get in the dark? It was cold. Neither was prepared for this. How would they survive a night in this old fir tree?
The Tree
All David could focus on was the twisting agony shooting like nails up his back, shoulders and legs, from sitting balanced for hours on the solid branch. The waiting was endless. Twice David had dropped down a branch and each time Mama Bear charged below. Her wrath escalated—faster, angrier, a little more out of control. Was she truly lying in wait for them? It appeared to be so. This bear was smart, and God help them, they inadvertently had come between her and her cubs.
Heavy, thick snowflakes landed on the tip of David’s nose. He looked up into a palate of solid white. Heavy clouds had settled in and opened, dumping snowflakes—lots of them. The dim light appeared to give way to twilight. It wouldn’t be long before complete darkness surrounded them. David shivered. He knew if they stayed up here any longer they’d freeze and any hope of finding their way home tonight would be lost. David swallowed. His cracked, dry lips stung from the light wind brushing through the trees. Then, one by one, he lowered himself down a branch. A sharp sting seared his bare hands, even his feet, making each step excruciating.
“Where are you going?” Rose’s voice shook. Was it from fear or the cold? He didn’t know. When he looked up in the dim light, he could see her vague outline gripping the branch above her.
“It’s been quite a while since she last charged. I think she might be gone.”
“Drop another branch first. Please, David. Wait for Daddy. He’ll come looking for us, won’t he?”
Instead of answering, David broke off another branch and dropped it. He prayed for help and held his breath as he watched the branch fall. Nothing happened—no aftershock or fiery Mama Bear attack. Only a light whistle of wind rustled the brush surrounding the tree. David glanced up; he was sure he saw Rose’s hopeful expression. “Dad should start looking for us now. I’m climbing down to get my gun; you stay here until I call you.”
“Be careful, she might be waiting.”
David struggled to hold onto each branch and slide down, each step slow and painful. Beads of sticky sweat dripped from his underarms. Every hair on his head sizzled against his tender scalp as he stared at the darkened bushes below, searching for any sudden movement. This aggressive mother bear was devious and smart, making her dangerous. They’d encroached on her territory, they were trespassers, which she perceived as a threat—a threat, without a doubt, she’d eliminate.
Hanging from the last branch, David searched the dim light for any movement. He listened hard over the echo of his heart, pounding like drumbeats in his ear, but could hear nothing except the whistle of the northern night wind.
He wanted to cry; he was scared, but David needed to hold it together for Rose. Where’s Dad? In the light, Dad would find them but with the snow—in the darkness? It’d be darn near impossible.
The unusually large snowflakes accumulated on the ground, covering the bushes in a blanket of white. David’s breath fogged in front of him. It was getting colder and he knew it would get a lot colder yet.
David’s hands slipped and he landed hard on both feet, shooting razor sharp pistons up both his legs. He didn’t think; he used the pain to roll on his side and swept the snow away as he searched for the now hidden shotgun. He didn’t know if it was panic or relief when his finger touched the metal. He snatched up that shotgun and pulled the hammer back. He jumped to his feet, taking aim, turning in a wide circle. He held his breath as he listened, no rustling, no warning growl. David released a shaky breath. His eyes blurred just as his knees weakened. With a shaky hand, he wiped his eyes. Suck it up. Now’s not the time to lose it.
“Rose, climb down. We need to get out of here.”
David listened as the branches rustled above him. He could hear Rose sniff and grunt as she slowly made her way down. And he kept watch, shuffling in a wide circle, around and around.
“Is the bear gone?”
David’s teeth chattered and it hurt to speak. “I don’t know. She may not be far.”
Rose landed with a thud and rolled in the snow. “I’m so cold. What are we going to do?”
David squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to be in charge. Where was Dad?
“David, it’s dark. What should we do?”
“I don’t know! We can’t just start walking. It’s dark. I can’t see the way. And the snow’s getting heavier.”
He couldn’t think; the panic was shaking his insides. It was Rose’s soft, muffled cry behind him that helped him pull it together. She was depending on him and he needed to look out for her. A tear slipped out and trailed down his cheek. “I’ll start a fire. Clear a spot, under that old Cedar. Gather some branches—anything dry. Don’t worry Rose, Dad will find us. He’ll be looking now.” He wouldn’t look at her.
David cradled the shotgun in the crook of his arm while Rose cleared a spot under the large cedar. The draped branches created a shelter from the wind and falling snow.
He said nothing else to her. She must have known they were going to have trouble starting a fire. He had no matches. With a jackknife and string in his pocket, he could string a bow and rub a branch to create friction. If the wood were dry it’d be easy, but it was wet from the month-long rain.
A branch snapped and something rustled in the bush to David’s left. David’s stomach pitched, sending every nerve into a tailspin. His reaction was instinctive; take aim, pull the hammer back, and he poised a shaky finger on the trigger. He blinked hard for a split second, to clear his foggy vision. He was confused in the dark. Where’d it come from again? He guessed, firming his stance slow and steady, and started to squeeze the trigger. A beam of light flickered through the trees—brighter, closer, coming right toward them.
“David! Rose!” Their names were shouted. The shotgun slid from his shaky hold toward the ground. Tears spilled down David’s icy cheeks. He shouted, “Dad! Dad, over here!”
A bright light again flickered from the bush. It was Dad holding a lantern. He was with Uncle Patrick, and they were riding Sparky and Blue, their two draft horses. Rose bolted straight to their father as he climbed off Blue. David’s knees gave way and he sank to the ground. He bowed his head. He couldn’t stop the flow of stinging tears and wondered how angry his father would be. A man didn’t cry.
But it was a strong, supportive hand that touched his shoulder and strong, loving arms that pulled him up. “It’s okay, David, you’re safe. Rose said there was a bear.”
David looked up at his father and buried his head against his chest. “She kept us pinned all day, with her cubs.” His father didn’t admonish him. He didn’t get mad at him. He took David’s gun, helped him onto the saddle and mounted behind him.
; “You spent the day up a tree?”
“Yes. Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t get the goose.” His dad surrounded him with his arms and held the reigns, before chirping and turning Blue, a gleaming white horse, around.
“It’s okay, David. What’s important is you and Rose are safe. You can tell me all about it at home. I know you’re scared. But you did good.”
The End
Afterword
Thank you so much for reading A Father’s Love.
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A Father's Love Page 1