Ice Princess

by Judith B. Glad

  Has Itswoot's clothing was dirty and torn in several places. His face was bruised about the jaw, and he favored one leg as he walked. "What happened? Who did this?"

  "Hah! It was a great battle. They tried to hit me and I fell down. They tried to kick me and I rolled away. All the time I laughed and sang, as if I had drunk much whiskey. At last they gave up and went away, so I crawled to the wall of the saloon where I could watch the shed, and fell asleep against the south wall."

  He winked. "But I did not sleep. They only thought I did. My ears were awake, and my eyes watched, even though they seemed to be closed. I listened and I watched."

  "What did you see, Tot--uncle?" Hilaire said, grinning widely. "How long did it take them to find the shack empty?"

  "Oh, a very long time. The sun was half-high," he held his arm halfway between level and straight up to demonstrate, "when the one they call Muller went to whip him again. Hah! That is one bad man. He likes to cause pain." He paused dramatically.

  "What happened when he discovered William was gone?" Flower asked, impatiently.

  "He was very angry. He swore and kicked the ground. One man said something to him, and he struck that one. He made them all search, but they found nothing. Nothing." He grinned. "Where have you hidden your man?"

  "He is not hidden," Flower said, deciding not to argue whether William was 'hers' or not. "He is still inside, because he was badly hurt. Therese is caring for his wounds."

  "That is not good. Later a new man, one whose name is Tur-Ner, he say that the elite--the slave--is worth much gold. So they will search again. One said he would come here."

  "Then we go away. Quickly."

  "I will help you," Hilaire said.

  "And I." Tenas Eena slowly rose to his feet and stretched. "I have slept enough for now."

  Has Itswoot shook his head at his son. "Not while it is day. Better we hide him for now, then tonight you can take him away."

  Quickly they carried William to a rocky cavern in the scablands that lay north of the creek. It was really a wide crack in the rock, floored with sand and partly roofed with a loose slab of the same black rock. Getting him into the fissure must have hurt him greatly, because he fainted before he was on the bottom. Flower knelt beside him, wiping his damp face with another scrap of doeskin. He lay prone, head turned to one side, unmoving. She and Beowulf would stay here, since no one but the Wasco knew she was in the area. Hilaire and Tenas Eena would go downriver and find a hidden place where they could sleep again. They must be awake again tonight.

  Little light reached the bottom of the cavern, so Flower could not see whether William was awake or asleep. She sat next to him for a long time, simply listening to his breathing, shallow but regular. Perhaps it was best he sleep now. Tonight could be difficult for him.

  Difficult and painful.

  * * * *

  "Hsst!"

  Flower's head jerked upright. She listened, heard no repeat of the soft hiss. Beside her William stirred, but made no sound. At last she heard it again.

  "Hsst!" Then a scratching on the rock above her.

  After a moment, she heard, "Fleur? Where are you?"

  Standing, she tried to look over the lip of the cavern, but could see nothing. "Here," she called softly. "Down here."

  "It is time to go," Hilaire said, his face appearing at the opening.

  Together they helped William from the cavern. He was moving better than this morning, but his breath still hissed between his teeth more than once as they lifted him to the surface. With Flower at his elbow and the other arm draped over Hilaire's shoulder, he was able to make his slow way across the rough, broken rock to the edge of the village.

  Tenas Eena waited, holding a horse--no, a mule. "My friend Kwahkwah, his father will not need this mule tonight. We will take you to a place where you may hide while your man heals."

  "I can walk," William said, but his tone was labored, his breath short.

  "You will ride," Flower told him. She and Hilaire helped him to mount the mule, which bore a shabby saddle. There was only one stirrup, and the pommel was bare wood with a few scraps of leather still attached. "Must I tie you, or can you hold on?"

  "Tie me," William said. "Ain't no way I's gonna hang on if he goes up a hill."

  They fastened his wrists to the pommel, looped a line between his legs. As they were doing so, Flower noted that his skin felt warm. Was he becoming feverish?

  All night they walked, staying well away from any trails, taking a roundabout route. At last, just as the eastern sky was lightening, Tenas Eena called a halt. They had traveled up a draw, which had grown deeper and narrower with each step, even as it wound its way up the plateau's edge. Flower heard the musical drip of water, smelled green and growing things. The dark shape of shrubs blocked the draw.

  "He'll have to get down. The mule can't go any farther."

  They helped William from the mule's back. Together Tenas Eena and Hilaire walked him through the screen of shrubbery and a short distance beyond. "You should be safe here," Hilaire told Flower. "I do not believe the whites have found this place yet."

  Before full daylight they had set up a snug camp. A tattered canvas created a shelter against one steep hillside. The afternoon sun would shine directly into this place, Flower saw, and the light-colored soil on the slopes would reflect it back and forth. Without the canvas, they would feel as if they were in an oven.

  "We will go now," Hilaire said, once they had William comfortable on a folded blanket. "You have food enough for two days, and water. I will return the day after tomorrow and bring more food."

  "Can you bring our supplies?" Flower asked him. "I have medicines that will help his back heal."

  "Get my clothes, too," William said. Flower had thought him asleep. He told them where he had hidden his buckskins, outside of town, so he could go in looking like an escaped slave.

  Once the young men were gone, Flower inspected William's wounds again. Some of the deep cuts on his back were swollen, the flesh around them red and hot. She bathed them and applied more of the salve Therese had given her. "I wish I had my medicines," she told him. "I do not believe this is as good." But it was all she had, and better than nothing.

  "Feels good, when you rub it on like that," he told her, his eyes closed.

  William slept most of the day, rousing only when she forced him to drink the thick soup she had brought, or to sip cold springwater. She worried, for his body still seemed warmer than it should. That night and the next day, he was awake more, but lay quietly, speaking little. By the second evening, he was moving less stiffly, and sat up to eat his supper.

  "Will you go back now?" she asked him, as they sat in the twilight, not daring to light a fire. The scent of burning sagebrush could drift for miles and she wanted to give no indication that they were still here, so close to The Dalles.

  His head moved, side to side. "No'm, I won't. I reckon you needs me a lot more now than you did. That feller who whupped me-- name of Muller or something like that--he wants the gold. He's got it in his head there's lots more of them coins. He'll be watchin' for 'em."

  "Then I will simply not spend any more."

  His shrug made him wince. "Don't matter. You're still in danger, and I can't let you go without me. Besides, I been thinkin' I'd be better off in that England place than here, anyhow."

  She wished there was more light, for she wanted to see his face, his eyes. "You can't come with me!"

  "Told you, woman, I'd go anywheres in the world with you."

  The truth rang in his voice. A truth she was not ready to hear. Might never be ready to hear. Biting her lip. Flower fought the pain that choked her, that gathered around her heart and would not abate. "How can I let you do that, William? In England you would be seen as a servant, perhaps a slave. There is only one place in the world where you can be free. You must go back to Cherry Vale."

  Once more he shook his head. But he said nothing as he lay painfully down in his hard bed.

&nbs
p; Hilaire did not come the next day. Flower knew that something had gone wrong. As evening approached, she gathered their few belongings and tied them in the ragged blanket Therese had given them.

  "We must travel tonight," she told William. "It is dangerous for us to remain here."

  He tried to take the bundle from her, but she would not let him. "I can carry this, if you will take Beowulf's leash. He must stay close to us."

  They walked all night, stopping often to get their bearing from the stars, or to allow William to rest. He said nothing, but toward morning Flower could see that he remained upright only through a great effort of will. When dawn finally lightened the sky enough for her to see his face, he looked old, with drooping shoulders and deep lines carved beside his mouth.

  They went to ground in a thicket of willow and hardhack along a narrow stream. Only a few slivers of dried meat remained in the parfleche, with three of the tiny onion bulbs she had gathered near their hidden camp. She wondered if she dared seek berries along the creek. She could go hungry, but William needed food to help his body heal.

  Reluctantly she agreed that Beowulf should hunt, for they had no food for him. "If anyone sees him, perhaps they will think he is a coyote," she said, hopefully.

  William did not respond. As soon as she had spread his blanket, he had laid himself down without argument. Now he seemed to be sleeping, but his breathing was uneven and labored.

  She touched him. He was warm, but not alarmingly so. Flower told herself not to worry. Some people simply were warmer to the touch than others.

  Beowulf returned sometime before noon, blood on his muzzle. Flower found herself wishing he was trained to bring food back. She had set snares, but expected them to yield nothing since they were all nearby--she had not wanted to leave William alone. The mere presence of humans would limit their success.

  The day grew warm and the air still. Inside the thicket Flower woke, feeling as if she could not find air to breathe. Once more she touched William. His skin was dry and hot. She lifted the scrap of linen she had laid over his back, inspected the wounds.

  Those that had worried her were still inflamed, still swollen, but looked no worse. "It is merely the hot day," she told herself, wiping the sweat from her own brow.

  He roused when the sun was low in the sky. "Thirsty," he said, his voice husky.

  Flower gave him water, offered him the few red currants she had found nearby. He took them, hesitated. "You eat yet?"

  "Of course," she lied. "While you were sleeping."

  He put the currants into his mouth, chewed.

  Flower's own mouth watered. She dipped from the stream and drank. A belly full of water did not leave her feeling well-fed.

  Before they broke camp she checked her snares. As expected, they were empty.

  That night they made poor time. Flower knew approximately where they were. Has Itswoot had drawn her a map, showing the drainages they must cross before reaching the valley south of The Dalles where the road around Mt. Hood began. She had done her best to keep track of them as they made their way uphill and down last night. She had calculated that they should reach the valley tonight, but after an hour's travel, knew they would not.

  William was weak. He often stumbled and twice fell to his knees as they climbed steep slopes. When they stumbled upon a rutted trail, unmistakably cut deep by many wagon wheels, she decided to risk using it. For the rest of the night, they followed the ruts, and only when dawn lightened the eastern sky, did she lead William down into a ravine where once more they found a concealing thicket to rest within.

  He fell into a deep sleep as soon as he lay down, not even stirring when she used the last of the salve on his back. His skin felt warmer than before, but she could not be sure.

  Flower knew they must have food. William was sleeping so soundly that she felt she could risk leaving him alone while she hunted. With Beowulf at her side and her knife in hand, she crept from the thicket and moved downhill.

  * * * *

  William heard the distant voices and froze. They was still hunting him, even though he was a long ways from the plantation. Last night he'd heard dogs, yipping and howling, and had known they had found his trail.

  He waited a long time after the voices had died away, then he crept from the thicket he'd hid inside. He didn't remember getting here, didn't remember much of the last few days. His back hurt to beat the band, just like the last time he'd been whupped. He musta' got into some briars, scratched it up bad. Soon as he could, he'd find hisself some mud to soothe it.

  He crept uphill, saw the wagon road. "What you thinkin' of, boy," he muttered, "takin' your rest so close? They coulda' cotched you in your sleep and you'da' never knowed the difference." It ran along the top of a ridge. Off the other side the land dropped in long waves into a dark gash, like a narrow river valley.

  He looked back, down in to the ravine where he'd come from. Movement. Holding real still, he watched. Soon he saw somebody move between two big bushes, followed by a dog. They was on his trail, sure enough. Looking around quickly and seeing no one else in sight, he scooted across the wagon road and down the other side of the hill. He was headin' in the wrong direction, but that didn't matter none. He wasn't gonna let 'em cotch him.

  * * * *

  Tenas Eena and Hilaire returned to Has Itswoot's lodge to discover that the search for the escaped slave had not died down. There was word in the white settlement that the black man knew the location of a horde of gold, enough to make its finder rich beyond imagining. Even some of the Wasco were talking of joining the search, having learned from the whites of the value of gold.

  "We cannot go back," Tenas Eena said. "It would be dangerous for them."

  "They have no food," Hilaire reminded his cousin, "and William needs his clothing."

  Therese set aside the basket she was weaving. "The clothing is here. I fetched it this morning. No one pays attention to an Indian woman who searches for kamass. But you must go back" she said. "There is much else they need."

  Has Itswoot shook his head. "Not now. There is talk that one of us helped the black man to escape. We are being watched."

  "Then we will steal away at night. No one will see us."

  "No, you will not. Better you go openly, in a boat. Then all will see that you carry no black man with you." Has Itswoot considered." I will go with you, to Celilo. From there you can go overland to their camp and get their supplies. Then you will take them to the Tygh village. She will certainly go there for food before she starts over the mountain."

  As soon as they had eaten they departed, rowing past the boat landing at the white settlement, whence they were watched closely.

  * * * *

  Flower killed one unwary cottontail with a rock, found two eggs in a hidden nest, and discovered a cluster of pale mushrooms in the rotting remnant of a smashed wagon that must have rolled off the road and down the hill. Beowulf had startled an unwary quail that she had been able to talk him into sharing. They would eat well today.

  She returned to their camp by a circuitous route, not wanting to leave a clear trail, even though she doubted her footprints would be found. She had walked carefully, staying clear of soft, easily-marked ground. Even so, she was concerned. At one time she had thought she heard voices, but when she'd listened, there had been only the soft soughing of the wind among the cedars.

  Not a sound came from the camp. She called softly as she approached, not wanting to startle William.

  There was no answer.

  "William?" she called, a little louder.

  A distant meadowlark sent its liquid trill to the sky, but William gave no response. Worried now, she pushed through the interlaced shrubs.

  The tiny clearing was empty.

  William's blankets lay on the ground, still bearing the faint imprint of his body. Nothing was disturbed, none of their few belongings was missing.

  Only William.

  Panic rose to clutch at her chest. She dropped her burdens, turned and pus
hed back through the shrubs. "William? William, where are you?" She did not dare call loudly, not knowing if anyone was on the wagon road to hear her.

  She looked at the damp ground along the narrow stream. There! Kneeling, she examined the partial footprint. Surely it was his. There had been no one else nearby, of that she was certain. She followed the stream some distance, but found no more. When she turned back, she saw Beowulf halfway up the hillside, his nose to the ground. Of course! Why did I not think...

  She whistled and the dog came, but not without backward looks up the hillside. Quickly she broke camp, wrapping the gutted rabbit and quail with the mushrooms in the linen cloth she had used to cover William's back. Beowulf shook his head when she looped rope around his neck, but did not fight it.

  She lay her hand on the dog's ruff, looked into his golden eyes. "Now find him! Find William!"

  Beowulf lowered his nose to the ground. In a moment he was sniffing at the footprint, then he pulled her toward the hillside.

  * * * *

  Hilaire and Tenas Eena had no trouble finding the camp. It was exactly where Flower had said. Quickly they packed everything into the leather bags and the pack. Hilaire found the small pouch where Fleur had buried it, and slipped it inside his shirt.

  They were deciding what to load on each animal when Tenas Eena said, "Let me take the mule. They do not need it, and they owe us for our help."

  Hilaire stopped what he was doing. "Fleur gave your father one of her gold pieces," he said, "and she said I was to give you another. But you should not spend them for a long time, else they will look to you for the secret of their source."

  "Bah! Gold that I cannot spend is nothing. I want the mule."

  Quickly Hilaire considered. His cousin was right. Gold in the pocket was merely pretty metal. A mule was a useful possession. And Fleur had told him that William did not ride. "It is yours," he said. "But I cannot give you the gold, too. They may need it to buy another mule."

  His cousin's grin told Hilaire how little he cared for gold, when he could have a mule.

  They tied the pack across the horse's back and led both animals from the concealed campsite. "I will not return to your father's lodge," Hilaire told Tenas Eena. "I will leave her pack at the Tygh village, then I will take Fleur's mare to my father. The Tygh might forget that she is not theirs."