by Gini Rifkin
“I can’t tell. He’s too deep to reach from up top. He’s under a layer of dirt and rubble. We better get down there fast. You willin’ to help?”
“Yes, of course.” Again disobeying his words, she crept forward on hands and knees and knelt at his side.
Apparently distracted by his worry over Kade, Tucker did not challenge her defiance in disobeying him. “I knew you’d come through for us, little gal. I might could jump right on down there. But even with the mule a helpin’ it be tricky doin’s for you to haul Kade or me back up. So, it looks like you’re gonna be the one goin’ over the side.”
As he spoke Tucket eased backward and into an upright position. She scrambled to do the same. Without another word, he set off to get what they might need for the rescue attempt.
Her chest tightened at the thought of going into the dark cleft, but she didn’t have time to dwell on the horror as Tucket quickly returned with a few lengths of rope and Hattie, his favorite mule.
“Young Kade will be all right. He’s a tough one.” Holding her by one arm, he guided Blind Deer to the opposite side of the caved in hole.
“If we go over the edge t’other side by Kade, we could send more of the wall down atop him. We’ll go down here offin’ this rocky ridge part. It appears more stable and I don’t think they dug back this far.
“Who are they?” She waited for an answer as Tucket expertly bound the pieces of rope together.
“They be the lazy bastards who made that hole without properly shoring it up. I think Kade’s in a cache, a place to store hides and supplies underground. By the smell of it, somebody tunneled in from the inside of an old painter’s den. Unmarked and poorly made, them caches become snares just awaitin’ for an unlucky man or animal to happen by.”
A cougar den… She glanced around. Did the big cat watch them from afar? Hopefully, it wouldn’t approach with coyote/dog around.
“Well, gal, the rope’s ready. Are you?” Tucket touched her shoulder as he spoke.
With visions of a hungry panther fresh in her mind she jumped, and then stared into the small black pit. The crater seemed to laugh at her like a greedy mouth waiting to gobble her up. She didn’t know if she could do this. Then she decided it couldn’t be worse than her time spent in the root cellar at the missionary school. After a while, she’d made friends with the dark, or at least they had called a respectful truce. And what about McCauley? He could be dying as she stood by trying to dredge up enough courage to help him. He was the one trapped, not her—at least not anymore.
Taking one end of the rope from Tucket’s hand, she slipped it around her waist allowing him to tie the complex knots he was so good at. He secured the other end of the hemp to the saddle of his mule.
“The rope is strong?” Falling into the hole sounded even worse than being lowered down slowly.
“It’s from my seafaring days and has served me well.”
“And the knot is tight.”
“Tighter than the bark on a tree. It’ll hold, Blind Deer. I ain’t gonna let anything happen to you.”
Believing a white man’s word did not come easily. But Sir Reginald hadn’t played her false, and for some reason she trusted Tucket too. Gingerly sitting, she dangled her feet over the edge and gripped the rope with white-knuckled hands. Eyes closed, she nodded she was ready.
Tucket eased her forward, the ledge disappeared from beneath Blind Deer, and she dangled alongside the wall.
“I know it’s frightful, but you’re doin’ fine.” Although positioned right above her head, Tucket’s encouraging words sounded far away. “It would be a might helpful, however, if you were to open your eyes. Then you could see to brace yourself along the wall with your feet. Less chance then of scrapin’ up against rocks and tree roots.” As he spoke, Tucket maneuvered the mule closer. The rope jerked hard and quick, dropping her about a foot.
Eyes wide, she shifted to avoid a sharp stone. She needed to get this over with. “Hurry, Tucket. He has already been down here much too long.” As if waiting for her reassurance he lowered away. Carefully directing her feet, she landed on a small patch of solid ground off to one side. One of Kade’s moccasins showed through the dirt, giving her hope he was not buried too deeply.
“Kade, Kade. Can you hear me?” She had never spoken his given name out loud, always just in her heart. She should have, because now only cold silence was the reply.
“Blind Deer.” Tucket and the dog peered down at her. Their image didn’t test the boundaries of her good vision, but the spot of blue behind them seemed a world away. “Shovel coming down.” He dropped the tool. It stuck in the ground handle-up.
She reached for it then hesitated. What if utilizing the sharp-edged tool she accidently added to his injuries. Covered with dirt, it was impossible to know in what position his body lay. Abandoning the idea, she knelt and dug with her bare hands.
As she tore at the earth, millet bugs and worms squirmed between her fingers. When she reached one of Kade’s shoulders, renewed hope had her working faster to free his face. His body felt so cold. Was it the chill of the surrounding earth, or were the hands of death already upon him?
Keep going. Dig faster—dig harder.
His body was mostly uncovered. Why didn’t he move? Pushing aside the hood of the capote, she felt for a breath of air—nothing. She tugged at his shoulder, partially turning him from his stomach to his side. She pressed her mouth to his, willing her life into him. No response. She pushed at him several times as if to wake him up. She kissed him again, harder, longer, mentally calling him back from the blackness. This time he gasped and a weak current of air escape his mouth.
“Tucket, he lives—but barely.”
Smoothing Kade’s hair back from his face, she felt a large swelling on the side of his head. That would explain his lack of response—he wandered in the nether-lands. They must get him topside and return to the cabin. She clawed and ripped at the remaining rocks, roots, and dirt, refusing to surrender this man to the last of the earth holding him prisoner.
As she dug deeper, dirt turned to mud. Her hands, covered in cuts and scrapes, soon ached and stung. Did the moisture coating them come from the water or her blood?
When she touched Kade’s right leg, he cried out, but the shock of the pain did not drag him back to the conscious world. Perhaps all for the best.
“Kade, my brave warrior, can you hear me? I am sorry to hurt you, but I must secure this rope around you.”
But how? She tried lifting just his shoulders and upper torso. His scream rent the air, and a spasm tore through his body.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His injury must be worse than she’d suspected.
She sat back on her heels. He was too heavy for her to lift, and no amount of weeping or wishing would change that truth. “You do not need good eyes to see with your brain. Consider all possibilities.” The words of Standing Wolf, her grandfather, called to her. He had taught her strength did not always win the battle. But courage, stealth, and cleverness could overcome great adversity, even her bad vision. Thoughts of his wisdom were cut short as the wall released a torrent of dirt and stones.
Instinctively she leaned over Kade, shielding his head and face, the debris pouring down upon her back. When the small landslide finished, she shook off the dirt and grabbing her braid, Blind Deer used the end to carefully brush the dirt from his closed eyes and mouth.
She must get Kade out of here in all haste. Picking at the knots, she untied the safety rope from around her waist. “Tucket? I need one stout stick, and two of the fattest beaver hides you have. Do you hear me?”
“I hear ya, gal. How long a stick are ya needin’?”
“One almost as long as your leg. And hurry, Tucket, he is very weak and cold.”
While she waited, Blind Deer dug a tunnel beneath Kade at waist level. Then she threaded the lifeline of hemp through from side to side. Just as she finished, the hides tumbled down from above.
“Stay put now,” Tucket ins
tructed. “The stick be a comin’ next, and I don’t want to go skewerin’ ya or Kade in the process of gettin’ it down there.”
Close to where she crouched, a straight branch, about the size of her wrist and the proper length, speared the earth like a perfectly thrown war lance.
After checking again to make sure Kade was still breathing, she folded the hides and laid them along his ribs, one on each side of his body. Hopefully they would cushion him when Tucket hauled him up. Grabbing the tail of rope, she pulled through an extra length, and using the knife from her tack belt, she cut off the hemp, dividing the piece into two equal lengths. The remainder of the rope could now be tied off around the hides at his middle.
She straightened the injured limb, relieved when no sound of bone crunching or grating met her ears. Then with the extra rope, she secured the branch along Kade’s leg, careful to avoid the cut on his thigh. As she worked, he remained still as death. Had he slipped farther into the realm beyond her reach?
“Tucket?” She tugged on the rope to signal him. “All is ready but pray go gently. He is battered as a sapling after a great storm.”
“Stand by.” Tucket’s image disappeared. “Come on, old girl,” he crooned to his mule. “Nice and slow. Step on back now.”
The rope went taut, dragging Kade’s limp body from the earth. It tore at her heart as he bumped and scraped along. Clambering to her feet, she tried to help guide him up the wall until he was out of reach. After he disappeared over the edge to safety, she breathed a sigh of relief.
No longer moving, her feet went numb inside the stiff wet moccasins, and her hands did not fare much better. She too needed to return to the light. Hurry Tucket, hurry. What was taking so long?
Painful memories escaped the corner of her mind relegated to nightmares, and cold as a winter’s wind, they swooped down upon her. Old Lady Dalrymple’s face flashed before her, and memories of dread and helplessness swirled around Blind Deer like water—water that felt on the rise. The woman’s cruel laugh seemed to echo off the mud walls as the Reverend humiliated and chastised her, promising eternal damnation.
“Do you hear me?”
Did God now summon her from His Kingdom in heaven? In the dark and the damp, lost to her imaginings, it seemed all too real.
“Blind Deer? Ahoy I say, do ya hear me? Grab hold, and I’ll hoist ya up.”
Coming to her senses, she glanced around, and with hands marked with blood, she freed Kade’s rifle from the dirt, and retrieved the rope hanging within arm’s reach. Bless Tucket—he’d already looped and knotted it for her. She slipped the ring of hemp over her head and up under her arms. At her signal, he hauled away.
Rising up from the tomb-like realm, she wondered how many times a person could be reborn? At the top, she flopped over like a river otter, gulping in the clean air, basking in the sun.
Tucket dragged her off to one side. The edge of dirt upon which she’d lain collapsed with a rumble, and a large portion of earth and rock spewed into the opening, blotting out the space she had previously occupied. They had both gotten out just in time. She shuddered at what could have happened and crawled over to Kade.
Chapter Eight
It seemed weeks, not days, since they’d cobbled together a travois and hauled Kade back to the cabin.
Blind Deer tried all the medicine she knew to comfort and heal him, and although his fever burned less hot, he wandered back and forth between this world and the next. His recovery would take time—time they did not have to spare. Someone had to get the trade goods to rendezvous.
Last night Tucket and she had discussed the situation. She thought the matter resolved, but as she stood near the corral in the chill morning air, Tucket’s expression indicated otherwise.
“We will be fine.” Did she sound convincing? Her promise was built more on bravado than conviction. Tucket remained silent.
Since their recent ordeal, the three of them were bound together in such a special way, it seemed unnatural for any one of them to be separated from the other two. But she could not take the furs to trade. Tucket had to go.
“Well, at least there be plenty of firewood.” Tucket chuckled and glanced around. “I remember the mornin’ young Kade chopped that wood.”
“Me too.” Blind Deer’s neck and cheeks burned hot at the memory of not only the day, but the kisses they had shared.
“I will take good care of him, Tucket.”
“On that there ain’t no doubt in my mind, Blind Deer. You risked your life for him goin’ down into that hole. I expect you’ll do right by him again should the need arise.”
Still the man hesitated.
“The elk hanging in the meat house will feed us well, and no one will bother us out here. They will all be racing you to rendezvous. Now go before it is too late to start today. And may the God of your choice go with you.”
Mounted on Hattie, Tucket sat staring at the cabin. Kade had rallied yesterday, and Tucket had said his goodbyes, although it had been hard to tell if Kade understood the full meaning of things.
The older man reached down and chucked her under the chin. “You be one of the family now, gal. That means I’m leavin’ behind the two people in this world most important to me. I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to either one of you.”
“And Kade will never forgive either of us if you don’t get the best price for those hides. Please go.”
She handed Tucket the lead to the string of mules and HBC horses going with him. Before he could see the tears in her eyes, Blind Deer swatted the rump of his mule, sending the animal and Tucket on their way. Having any tears left came as a surprise. Just to look at Kade made her weep.
Tucket turned around once. “Keep your powder dry,” he called, giving her a wave goodbye. Then his steadfast form blurred and disappeared.
She stood alone beneath a tall pine, the quiet seeping in all around her until it blanketed everything, but not with warmth. The hair at the back of her neck prickled, and she ran for the cabin.
Stoking the fire, she set a kettle of water to boil to use for tending the wound on Kade’s thigh—and for a cup of tea to bolster her strength.
Drinking tea was one of the few white man’s customs she enjoyed. And drinking tea in the wilderness especially made her smile. She liked to sip it from a dented tin cup, often-times sitting on the front porch, feet up, her clay pipe in the other hand. What would those prim, white gloved, fancy teacup-toting ladies of St. Louis think of that? The very idea brightened her mood, until she returned to Kade’s bedside.
His skin felt too warm again. She washed his face and neck with cool water, and then made a willow bark infusion for him. She worried over him like a mother with a sick child. He was becoming too important in her life. In the end caring for someone brought heartache.
Having been torn away from everyone she’d ever loved, the pain ran deep, almost too deep to rise above. Would Kade also be snatched from her side? Would she lose him too? Could she survive another loss?
One fist raised in the air, she stood in the center of the cabin and defied the fates. “I will not give him up.” She all but screamed out the words. When no signs of retribution struck her down, her shoulders relaxed, and cup in hand she returned to Kade’s side.
Like a sculpted statue, he lay unmoving. Thank goodness he took what liquid she forced between his lips, but these miniscule feedings could not sustain him for long.
“McCauley, open your eyes and come back to me.” She spoke encouragingly as she set the empty cup aside, and gathered items to see to his injuries, “I am running out of amusing things to talk about. I may have to sing to you—and I have been told my singing is comparable to the sounds of a marauding crow. Not very poetic, but a most enlightening picture.”
With supplies she would need arranged nearby, she drew the covers down to his waist and gently massaged the bruised flesh on his shoulder. After she twisted it back into place, the swelling had gone down considerably. She had seen the elders d
o the same for one of her brothers following his fall from a horse. At least Kade’s shoulder should heal properly.
Her hand drifted across his body, her fingers tracing his muscled chest. “I once saw a white man with so much hair he resembled a beast. You could have woven a blanket just from the hair on his back. Never have I seen that among the people of my tribe. This leads me to believe the Salishan have progressed further beyond the animals. But do not worry—you have just the right amount of fur.”
Her gaze slid lower. What would it be like to caress him in other places? She might be uncertain as to how her heart felt about Kade, but she knew exactly how her body felt about the man. For those few moments when he’d held her close and kissed her, desire had overruled common sense. This feeling held great power. It was new—it was dangerous.
Keeping him modestly covered, she tended the wound on his right thigh, already showing signs of healing. But the leg remained worrisome. Although not broken, at least not that she could tell, it had been unnaturally twisted. Tucket and she had straightened it before applying a new splint. Now she loosened the straps holding the sticks. There was much bruising, and while his forehead often felt too hot, his leg felt too cold. She rubbed the muscles with a sage and mullein infused oil, massaging deeply, sometimes none too gently, trying to bring a more healthy color to the skin.
“Ow. That hurts.”
She jumped back, one hand pressed to her chest to calm her fiercely beating heart.
“By the saints they made me pray to, you scared me half to death. How do you feel?”
“My leg hurts, but somehow feels dead, and I can’t move it. What in blue blazes happened?”
“Tucket says a cache connected to the den of a mountain cat collapsed, taking you deep into the ground. You hit your head, cut your thigh, dislocated your shoulder, and twisted your leg.”
“Is that all? The way I feel I thought maybe I was also dragged behind a mule for a mile or two.”
“You were. That is how we got you back to the cabin.” She re-tied the splint, leaving his thigh uncovered. “Do not worry. Except for many bruises the rest of you appears very fit.”