Knight in a Black Hat

by Judith B. Glad

  Once he had his boots on, he went to check the livestock. They were snug under their tree, their wet coats steaming from internal heat. He gave them each a small handful of grain. We're going to run short on the way back, if this kind of weather holds..

  "Oh, my!"

  He turned. Nellie was kneeling in the doorway of the tent, smiling widely. "Isn't this lovely!"

  Malachi looked around, and tried to see it through her eyes. "Only if you don't have to go anywhere," he said.

  "Do we?" She crawled out, shook clinging snow from her skirt as she stood. "I should think we'd wait until it melts."

  "Not unless you want to wait 'til Spring," he told her, gesturing at the clouds, lower and heavier than yesterday's. "I want to make sure we can get out." He lifted the protective tarpaulin from the tack. "Can you put some breakfast together while I saddle up? I want to get moving."

  Her expression sobered. "Of course. I'll pack up, too." She crawled back inside the tent.

  Malachi had to smile. She might have a contentious streak a mile wide, but when push came to shove, Nellie Sanders had plenty of gumption, too.

  They were on the trail in less than an hour, a little after the snow began falling again. He walked ahead, leading Rogue, not trusting the safety of the snow-covered trail. Nellie, too, walked, although she could have ridden. Sheba was as sure-footed as a mountain goat.

  The snow turned to rain as they descended into the area Nellie had named "Mosquito Marsh." It made the going easier, although the trail was slick and treacherous. Soon they were in the marsh, splashing through the water that was a good half-foot deeper than when they had crossed only three days earlier. "At least," she said, not sure if he could hear her, "it's too cold for mosquitoes."

  Nellie was chilled to the bone and miserable, far more so than she could remember being on the journey from Boise City. "I was dressed for it then," she muttered. She shivered as an errant water droplet found its way between her breasts. Ahead of her, Malachi walked with his head bent, his broad-brimmed black hat pulled low. He had to be even more uncomfortable, for he was breaking trail, catching all the drips from branches as he pushed through them.

  Dusk caught them before they could pass through the narrow gap where the stream they'd been following all day emerged into the lower valley. "We'll have to make camp," Malachi said. "I don't want to travel when we can't see what we're getting into."

  Although she wanted nothing more than to get out of her wet clothing, Nellie had to agree. She followed him up a slope and into the woods. Not paying attention to anything but keeping her feet under her on the wet trail, she almost collided with Sheba when the donkey stopped abruptly.

  "What do you want?" she heard Malachi say.

  "I come to lead you home."

  Gertie!

  Nellie crowded past the horses in time to hear Gertie say, "It ain't no fit night to sleep out, not when you got that big tent to keep dry in."

  The old woman reached out a hand and Nellie took it. "You're lookin' like a drowned rat, My Girl. It'll be a wonder if you don't catch your death." She glared up at Malachi. "Thought you was out here to take care of her. Don't look to me like you done it."

  To Nellie's amazement, Malachi merely said, "No, ma'am, I haven't."

  "What are we waitin' for then?" Gertie kept hold of Nellie's hand as she turned to walk along the hillside. "Hey, you, Buttercup, you keep your eyes open!" she called.

  Although the light was almost gone, Nellie thought she saw the cat's sinuous shape ahead of them. At least we're not likely to run into a bear with him guiding us.

  As she walked along beside Gertie, she wondered if she would ever be able to tell anyone of her adventures this summer.

  Man-eating bears, moose the size of locomotives, and a panther that acts like a house cat! No, I'd never be believed! This is certainly a long way from Ohio.

  She glanced at Gertie, dimly visible at her side. Will I be doing the right thing, to take her back to civilization?

  She had no answer, and wondered if she ever would.

  * * * * *

  The rain continued to fall for five more days, although it turned to showers on the second day. To Nellie's surprise, the nights were warmer. "Clouds hold the warm in," Mr. Willard told her when she commented on it. "Just you wait. Pretty soon we'll be wakin' up to ice in the bucket."

  After the storm cleared, Nellie could almost see summer ending. The next time they went into the high country, she saw bright color on leaves that had been green only days before. Fewer plants were flowering up here, most having gone to seed.

  On the way up they stopped at the small glade where Gertie had shown her the in-between balloon plants. They were well past flowering, but two bore unopened seed capsules. Nellie gathered them carefully and sealed them inside a fold of paper. Perhaps she could germinate them once she was back in Ohio.

  Each night seemed colder, especially at this high elevation. Nellie wore her woolen petticoats now, and Malachi his union suit. "Summer's almost over," he said one morning as he broke ice in the creek they were camped beside.

  Nellie wanted to weep. Instead she smiled. "Yes, but it's been a worthwhile season. I have enough work to keep me busy all next winter."

  He didn't look at her. "So you're still planning to go back to Ohio?"

  "I must," she told him. "There are all the specimens to be mounted and labeled, our notes to be organized. I'm sure that whoever publishes the results of this summer's work will want me to help him. At first at least." The very thought of giving someone else the fruit of her summer's labors sickened Nellie. It would be published as Uncle's research and she would get no credit whatsoever. Well, perhaps a footnote, if she were lucky.

  "Whoever publishes? Aren't you going to do it?"

  "Me? How can I? I have no credentials, no degree. I doubt that any reputable journal would accept anything I sent them."

  He sat back on his heels and finally looked straight at her. "What would happen if you printed it yourself? Could you do that?"

  "No, I--" Nellie stared. "Uncle did publish the first version of his Flora, but..." What an outrageous thought!

  What an irresistible temptation. "No, I couldn't."

  "Why not?"

  "Well, first I would need facilities to work in. A herbarium so I could check my...our specimens against known species. And I would need access to publications, to see if other botanists have reported..." She stared up at the towering peaks above her, wishing she could read the answer on their rocky slopes. If only...

  "What if that college you came from would let you use their facilities? Could you do all that?"

  She looked at him in astonishment. "Well, I suppose I could." She chewed her lip as she thought. "I'd need a place to live, until the lease expires on Aunt Temperance's farm--that's in February. A place big enough for Gertie and me. And money for food and supplies. I'd need mounting sheets and glue and labels and..." Once more she paused, thinking furiously. Could I?

  "No," she said at last. "It's impossible. There wouldn't be enough for me to live on while I did it all. Why it would take a year or more."

  Malachi came to her and gathered her into his arms. "Nellie, who supports all these posy pickers and bird watchers and critter counters? They don't pay for everything themselves, do they? Do the colleges pay them to go out and collect?"

  "No, not usually. They have patrons, usually. Wealthy people who contribute toward the advancement of knowledge."

  "Well, then, the money's no problem. I'll be your patron."

  She pushed back against his embrace. "You?"

  "Me." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I've got some money saved. It's not doing me much good in the bank, and it could do you a lot of good. So I'll stake you for a year. How does that sound?"

  "You're joking!"

  "Never more serious. I've watched you this summer, watched you put heart and soul into your work, even when you thought you'd get no credit for it. Your uncle was a blowhard, full of boasts an
d lies, but you're honest and good."

  "Uncle was not a liar!"

  "Are you sure? Some of his stories sounded pretty far-fetched to me."

  They had to her, too. But she wasn't ready to believe Uncle dishonest. "Well, I admit that he sometimes seemed prone to exaggeration. But he was a great botanist, nevertheless."

  "Maybe so. I can't judge. But I do know some of the things he said couldn't have happened, and some of the places he claimed to have been aren't there."

  Nellie herself had come to realize that Uncle had often exaggerated his adventures. He had certainly relied on her to do his collecting more often than not the last year or two. And his methods had grown sloppy, as evidenced by the material she and Mr. Beckett had discarded. Still, she owed him much for the opportunity he'd given her, and she would not blacken his name.

  She turned her mind to what Malachi had said. "I can't take your money, Malachi, although I do thank you very much for offering. It just wouldn't be right."

  "Would you turn me down if I was a rich railroad man? Stanford or Vanderbilt, maybe?"

  "Well, no, but they wouldn't--"

  "But I will. Now stop arguing and say you'll do it." He kissed her again, and Nellie lost the thread of her argument in mindless delight.

  Later she decided that he had forgotten his offer, for he said nothing more. She resolved to put the conversation out of her mind. She dreamed, however, and played make-believe with the idea, until she had her winter's work planned and her paper half composed.

  * * * * *

  "Can you beat that, Buttercup? She's still talkin' about me goin' back there to Ohio with her." Having just walked Her Girl home, she rejoined the cat on his sunlit rock overlooking the camp. "Says she's got herself a little farm where we can live, snug as bugs." She leaned against the cat's flank, feeling its warmth and sinewy strength. "I ain't goin', though, so don't you fret. There ain't nothin' back there for me, I reckon, even if I could recall exactly where it was I come from. It's been too long. My Girl says I been hereabouts for near twenty years."

  She nudged the cat. He sat up, yawned, and looked back over his shoulder at her.

  "Hungry? Yeah. Me, too. Let's go see what we can scare up."

  Buttercup leapt down from the rock and she slid after him. She sure was gonna miss Her Girl when she went.

  * * * * *

  Their departure date was set for the twenty-eighth of September. In the next two weeks Nellie had to sort and organize and pack all the specimens, make sure her notes were complete and any gaps in Uncle's were filled, and return to each of her balloon plant locations for one last look. She wanted to sketch their surroundings, so that her written description would be accurate. If only they had brought a camera, but Uncle had turned thumbs down on carrying such a complicated contraption into the wilderness.

  She finished copying the previous week's collecting notes and set them on the corner of the table, with a rock for a paperweight. Malachi was sitting on a section of log by the firepit, doing something to a saddle, when she emerged into the late afternoon sunshine. "I want to see if Gertie's about," she said. "Is there someone who can come with me?"

  She had done her best to cooperate with his rule that no one left camp alone, but sometimes it chafed. How nice it would be to be able to simply walk into the woods when she wished, and not have to wait on the convenience of one of the men.

  "Tom's got nothing else to do," he said.

  Nellie wasn't surprised when he didn't offer to accompany her. He didn't approve of her friendship with Gertie and was still against her taking Gertie with them when they went out. She went in search of Tom, whom she found dozing in front of his tent.

  The young man fell behind as they approached the rocky outcrop where Nellie often met Gertie. It was empty this afternoon. She sat there anyway, enjoying the warmth and wishing she could bare her face to the sun's rays. She was almost asleep when Buttercup jumped up beside her. She shrieked.

  "Skairt you, did he?"

  She drew up her legs, wishing he didn't think himself a lap cat. "No, he startled me, that's all." She scooted to one side so Gertie could sit beside her. "Move over, Buttercup," she said, shoving.

  He was about as movable as the rock they sat on.

  They sat in the sun, not speaking, while Nellie gathered her arguments. Gertie had the habit of silence, so often they sat together for long spells without either saying a word.

  "Mr. Willard says one of the mules will carry you," she said, finally. "And he's certain he can spare another to carry whatever you want to take along." Thinking of the packrat's hoard in the cave, Nellie wondered how much Gertie would choose to take.

  "You jest never give up, do you, My Girl? Didn't I tell you before that I ain't goin' nowhere?"

  "But you must, Gertie. I can't leave you here. I'd worry myself sick about you."

  "I can take care of myself." Her stuck-out lip told Nellie her feelings were hurt.

  "Of course you can. But you're not getting any younger, and one of these days you'll find it much harder to keep your larder stocked and your roof mended."

  "Buttercup won't let me go hungry."

  "But he can't doctor you if you get sick, or carry you to safety if you get caught in a landslide." She and Malachi had seen a rocky overhang give way in one of the high cirques just last week. Nellie had been in the path of the falling rock less than an hour earlier. She still felt residual terror.

  "Ain't nothin' like that gonna happen to me," Gertie said. "'Sides, I can't leave Buttercup."

  "Gertie, he's a wild cat. He's do just fine without you."

  "No he won't. He needs me." Gertie stood up and turned her back. "And I need him," she said in a low voice.

  "But Gertie--"

  "Don't you go worryin' me, My Girl. I made up my mind to stay and I'm a'gonna stay. If you're as fond of me as you say, you'll come back and visit me now and again. I'll be here a long time yet."

  Nellie wondered if she'd forgotten how far it was to Ohio, so far that a short visit would involve half a year's expedition.

  "I wish you'd change your mind," she said. She, too , rose to her feet. Immune by now to the old woman's strong aroma, she hugged Gertie. "I'll miss you, Ma," she said, the word coming easier with each iteration.

  "Well, you ain't gone yet. I'll be around." Jumping down from the rock, she walked rapidly toward the nearby trees. "C'mon you lazy cat. Let's go huntin'."

  Tom came down the hill from his vantage point. "That old woman is plumb crazy," he said to Nellie. "I don't know why you bother with her."

  "She's not crazy," Nellie told him. "She's just not used to people, because she's been alone so long."

  "Well, I'd sure like me a shot at that cat of hers. He'd make me a fine skin."

  "Don't even think about it, Tom Ernst. If anything happens to Buttercup--" She left the threat unspoken.

  * * * * *

  One last trip to the heights. They spent a day checking several of the balloon plant sites, finding only dried stems and empty seed capsules. On the way back Nellie did her best to imprint each foot of the trail into her memory, for she would never again see these high cirques and peaks and tarns she so loved. In less than a week they would be departing forever.

  "I can't believe summer ended so quickly." The hills were bright with patches of golden aspen and brilliant scarlet vine maple shining among the dark conifers. The sky was a paler, colder blue, and even the lakes seemed to have taken on a wintry shade.

  Her heart, too, was cold. Malachi's loving had seemed more tender and poignant the last few days, as if he was saying goodbye. And perhaps he was. On the outward journey, he would be the leader again, with responsibility toward all of them.

  As they descended the last steep segment of the trail, and started into Mosquito Marsh, one of the mules stumbled. Immediately Malachi called a halt. Nellie dismounted and tied Sheba's reins to a shrub. "I'm going to find a bush to hide behind," she said as he began checking the mule's shoes.

&
nbsp; "Don't go far."

  "I won't." She saw an opening into a dense willow thicket and headed toward it. Once she had stepped out of sight of the trail, she saw that the thicket opened onto a more open marsh, with small ponds strewn across an expanse of sedge meadow. She had not even suspected its existence.

  Without thinking, Nellie picked her way among the tall sedges. Her wool skirt caught on their sawtoothed blades, but she merely tugged it loose. Ahead was the largest of the ponds, its surface half-covered with lilypads. One lone flower remained, bright yellow against the dark-stained water.

  Someone whistled. She half turned to look toward the sound but saw nothing. Then out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. Over where she had entered the meadow, an enormous moose stood.

  Nellie did not move, hardly breathed. She knew moose were dangerous, but surely this was a male, not the cow with calf she had been warned against.

  The whistle came again, from off to her right. She turned her head, an inch at a time.

  "My Girl! Stand still!"

  At last Gertie came into view, perhaps ten yards distant. She was across the marsh, just at the edge of the far woods.

  The moose made a sound, a harsh grunt and lowered its head.

  Oh, good, it's going to ignore me and eat.

  "Come toward me now, one step at a time. Real slow and real quiet."

  Nellie edged one foot forward, then another. Her skirt continued to catch on the sedges. She hiked it higher and gradually advanced toward Gertie. One yard, then two.

  "Keep comin'," Gertie said. "He's not payin' you no mind."

  Between Nellie and Gertie was another pond, perhaps six feet across and so deep that its dark brown water seemed opaque. Nellie looked to either side, wondering which way to go. To her left an ancient, rotting log blocked her path. She would have to scramble over it, motion which might alarm, the moose. Cross-grained critters, moose, Mr. Willard had told her once day. A body never knows what they're a'gonna do. He had scratched his head, considering. The best thing you can do is get out of their way quick as you can.