Savage Winter
Page 19
“What are you doing in my lodge?” he demanded. “No woman comes to me unless I summon her.”
Red Bird took no offense at his words. Her own father was a chief, and she was accustomed to his thundering orders for others to follow. “Your mother sent me to you. She thought you might need…comfort.”
Windhawk pulled on his buckskin breeches and shirt. “You can stay or go as you like. I will not be here,” he said, grabbing up his heavy buffalo robe and walking outside.
He resented the fact that his mother had sent this woman to him. She should have known that his hurt over Joanna’s death was still too new. He felt no desire for this woman or any other. He knew Red Bird had a lot to do with the trouble between him and Joanna, but at the moment he was in no mood to talk to her about it.
“I will wait until you return, Windhawk,” she called after him.
Windhawk didn’t even hear her; his mind was on other things. He had decided to go in search of Tag and bring him home. He dreaded telling the boy that his sister was dead, but he didn’t want him to hear about Joanna’s death from anyone but him. Knowing how close Tag and Joanna had always been, his heart ached at having to tell him about his sister. Somehow he felt the need to be with Joanna’s brother. Perhaps, in sharing his grief, he could lessen it.
Sun Woman watched her son mount his horse and ride away from the village. She shook her head, knowing she had made a mistake in sending Red Bird to him. She didn’t know where Windhawk was going, but she knew he needed to be alone. Perhaps, it would be good if Red Bird remained in Windhawk’s lodge until he returned, she reasoned. He would need the sympathy only a woman could give him.
Joanna leaned against a tree to rest for a moment and catch her breath. It was so cold that her breath was coming out like cloudy puffs of fog. Her hands and feet were so cold they felt numb.
Glancing over at Morning Song, she saw her digging in the snow beneath a chokecherry bush and realized she was searching for berries.
Joanna dropped down beside her and helped her dig the snow away. Beneath the snow they found a few scattered berries and crammed them into their mouths, eating them hungrily, seeds and all.
“If the snow were not covering the ground, we would find roots and nuts to satisfy our hunger,” Morning Song said, wiping her mouth.
“We are going to need something more substantial than berries if we are going to make it to the village,” Joanna reminded her.
“We will freeze to death if we don’t find some shelter,” Morning Song stated.
“I admit I have no experience in wilderness survival, Morning Song,” Joanna said, knowing that a young Blackfoot girl was trained from birth to live off the land. “I will rely on your good judgment to get us through. Tell me what we should do? It is getting colder, and with night coming on the temperature will drop even more. You realize our biggest problem will be keeping warm?”
“I was once told by my father of a time when he was lost in a snowstorm,” Morning Song said. “He told me that he had covered himself with snow, and it kept him warm. Perhaps we should try to cover ourselves with snow.”
“I am not disputing your father’s words, Morning Song, but it does not sound right to…” her voice trailed off. “Wait! I remember Farley telling me about when he was buried in snow. Perhaps we should try it!”
Morning Song looked around, trying to find a sheltered place that would help protect them from the cold. Spotting a small hill in the distance, she pointed to it. “If we spend the night there, we will be sheltered from the north wind.”
Joanna nodded her agreement, and the two girls made their way slowly to the hill. The wind was biting cold, and Joanna could feel her face stinging from the snow the wind pelted at her with a driving force.
When they reached the hill, Morning Song knelt down and cleared the snow away. Removing the buffalo robe from her shoulders, she placed it on the ground.
“I suppose the best thing to do would be for both of us to roll up in the buffalo robe, Joanna.”
“That seems the correct way to me,” Joanna said, smiling. “You lie down, and I will cover you.”
“No, we will have to lie together. It is snowing very heavily now—in time, we will be covered with snow. One good thing about this is that the wild animals will not be able to pick up our scent.”
The two girls wrapped themselves in the buffalo robe. Joanna felt she would never be warm again. Morning Song huddled close to her while they shivered, listening to the howling of the wind.
Joanna pulled the buffalo robe over their heads, trying to think of anything except how cold she felt. She wanted to find something to talk about with Morning Song, so they could both forget about the hunger that gnawed constantly at their insides.
“Morning Song, what do you think I should call the baby if it is a girl?” Joanna asked. She could hear the young girl’s teeth chattering from the cold. Probably they would both freeze to death during the night, she told herself. It was a helpless feeling knowing there was nowhere they could go to escape the cold.
“I…do not…know,” Morning Song whispered. “It would…be nice if you had a girl.”
“Be thinking about it—remember, she will be the daughter of a chief just as you were and should have a lovely-sounding name, like yours.”
“Can I really help you name this baby if it should turn out to be a girl?”
“Yes, you may. I suppose if it is a boy Windhawk will give him a name.”
“I will love this child whether it is a girl or boy. May I help you with the baby when it is born?”
Joanna rubbed Morning Song’s arms and hands trying to warm them. Right now she felt the responsibility for Morning Song’s safety, and realized what it would be like to be the mother of a daughter.
“I will depend on your help when the baby comes, Morning Song. I know very little about babies. I have seldom been around small children.”
“I know a great deal about babies. Gray Fox’s wives often allow me to help them with their babies.”
Joanna snuggled close to Morning Song, thinking she was too young to die. Morning Song hadn’t even begun to live yet. Joanna felt herself getting drowsy and began to nod off. She remembered reading somewhere that if one is freezing the one thing he must not do is fall asleep. She tried to pull herself out of her sleep-drugged state, but found she was just too exhausted to fight against the sleep she needed so badly. She was not surprised when her last thoughts turned to Windhawk.
“Morning Song, if you make it back home, and I do not, tell Windhawk that I love him,” she whispered, before drifting off to a deep sleep.
Morning Song didn’t answer because she had already fallen asleep.
The snow continued to fall heavily during the night, and soon a thick, white blanket covered the two girls.
Windhawk had easily found Tag, since he himself had made the same journey when he had been a boy.
He watched sadly as Tag digested what he had told him about his sister’s death.
“You are sure my sister is dead?” the boy said, with unashamed tears running down his face.
“There can be no doubt, Tag. I saw her…body.” Windhawk thought Tag would suffer enough over Joanna’s death; he found no reason to tell him that the body had been burned beyond all recognition.
Tag wiped the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. “I do not know why you allowed Joanna and Morning Song to remain behind when the others left with only Farley to protect them, Windhawk,” Tag said, trying to make sense out of what Windhawk had told him.
Windhawk looked into Tag’s face, thinking the young boy had learned much from his journey into the wilderness. He was taller, and his shoulders were broader. His hair was now completely golden in color and had lost its red cast, no longer reminding Windhawk of Joanna’s hair. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Tag about the trouble between himself and Joanna. Perhaps someday, when the pain wasn’t so acute, he would talk to the boy about his sister…but not now.
Tag walked out of the tipi. Windhawk followed him, watching as he raised his face to the sky. “No, I know you loved them both. I blame you for nothing.”
Windhawk sighed inwardly. “I think, perhaps, I feel responsible for the tragedy, Tag.”
“As you said, Windhawk, looking back with regret does not return the dead to us,” Tag said, reminding Windhawk of his own words earlier.
“Yes, that is so, Tag.”
“I am no longer called Tag. I have earned my name.”
“What is your name, Tag?”
“I am called Mountain Wolf.”
“How did you earn your name?”
“I slew a wolf with only a knife. The animal had me and Crooked Nose trapped on a mountain ledge. I had to decide whether to kill the wolf or leap to my death in the canyon below. As you see, I decided to slay the wolf.”
The change in Tag was becoming more apparent as Windhawk listened to him talk. He had indeed become a man. He felt pride in Tag’s accomplishment.
“Come, Mountain Wolf,” he said, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “it is time for you and me to go home.”
Joanna didn’t know how much time had passed, but she awoke feeling as though a heavy weight was bearing down on her. She felt very warm and wanted to throw off whatever was on top of her. When she became fully awake, she remembered their desperate situation.
“Joanna, are you awake?”
“Yes, apparently we made it through the night.”
“My father and Farley were right, were they not? The snow did keep us warm.”
“It would seem so, for, in truth, I am too warm. It must have snowed a great deal, because I can feel something weighing down on us.”
Morning Song giggled, pushing upward on the buffalo robe, only to be rewarded by a mound of snow which came tumbling down into their faces.
Joanna stood up and stared about her in amazement. The countryside was so beautiful…a winter paradise! She would have enjoyed it more if it hadn’t been for her hunger. She picked up the buffalo robe, shook the snow from it, and placed it about Morning Song’s shoulders.
“No,” Morning Song said, removing the warm robe and holding it out to Joanna. “I will not wear the robe, since you have nothing to keep you warm. You must wear this,” she insisted adamantly.
Joanna caught her hand. “We must be sensible if we are to stay alive, Morning Song. The only reasonable thing to do would be to take turns wearing the robe. Does that not make sense to you?”
“Can we not put it about both of us?”
“If need be, but at the moment, I do not want it,” Joanna answered, picking up the long stick she had kept with her, thinking she might need it for protection.
They trudged on and on in the snow. Sometimes they would step into a snowdrift and be buried up to their knees, and at other times they would slip and fall on the icy surface. Nothing deterred them in their need to reach the Blackfoot village.
By midmorning, they were both exhausted and had to stop to rest. Joanna knew they couldn’t keep up this grueling pace without food to sustain them.
“Do you see those big mountains in the distance?” Morning Song pointed out. “We must cross them—about six moons on the other side, we will find our village.”
Joanna stared at the unyielding face of the mountain. “They do not look passable to me.”
“They are our sacred mountains. It is said they have much of the yellow gold that the white man craves. I know the way through them.”
“How many moons will it take us to cross the mountains?” Joanna wanted to know.
“On horseback, many moons. Walking, three times as long, I think.”
Joanna and Morning Song struggled on through the snow. The way was hard, and many times they fell to their knees, but each time, they rose and pushed onward, setting their sights on the distant mountains as their goal.
In Joanna’s heart there burned a flame. She must not die before she saw Windhawk again. How could she die with so many bad feelings still between them?
Later that afternoon, Morning Song cut the bark from a tree, and she and Joanna ate the tender underside. It didn’t do much to eliminate their hunger, however, and gave them no added strength.
Joanna knew they were both growing weaker with the passing of time. She realized if they didn’t find something to eat soon, they would both perish. All the elements were against them, and yet they both refused to give up!
Eating only berries they found buried beneath the snow, it took them over two weeks to reach the foothills of the tall mountains. Joanna stood at the base of the mountain, thinking it would be an impossible climb up its stone face.
When they started the climb, it was sometimes so steep that they slid back down the icy slopes. Joanna found herself so weary she wanted to give up, but she knew if she did, they would never make it out of the mountains alive.
The first night in the mountains was the worst. It had turned so bitterly cold that the buffalo robe did little to keep them warm. The wind was blowing so strongly it whipped at the robe and several times blew it away, forcing them to chase after it. Joanna and Morning Song huddled beneath the robe with their teeth chattering.
After they had been in the mountains for two days, Joanna began to think they would never find their way out. Each time they reached a steep incline it became a trial to make it to the top—and when they finally did there would always be another hill to climb. It seemed the whole world was made up of one hill after another, and Joanna found she was talking to herself. “Put one foot in front of the other…one foot in front of the other,” she repeated over and over.
On the fourth morning in the mountains, Morning Song fell to her knees, too weary to rise. “I cannot go on, Joanna, you must try to make it without me.”
Joanna sat down beside her. “If you give up, I will also. It will be a pity that my baby will die without ever having known life.”
Joanna’s words caused Morning Song to struggle to her feet, and they pushed onward.
“I know of a cave where we can stay tomorrow night. My father took me and Windhawk there when I was very young. I believe I will be able to find it,” Morning Song said weakly. She fell to her knees, and Joanna knew they could not go much farther that day.
Seeing two huge boulders in the distance that came together in a vee, she helped Morning Song to her feet, thinking they might spend the night there, protected from the cold.
It was early the next day when they reached the cave. Morning Song collapsed just inside the entrance. Joanna knelt down beside her and felt her forehead. Her skin was cold to the touch, and she was grateful to find Morning Song had no fever. With considerable effort, she managed to half drag, half carry Windhawk’s young sister to the back of the cave and lay her down upon the buffalo robe.
“Forget about me, Joanna,” Morning Song said weakly. “I have not the strength to go on.”
“You must lie still. I am going to try to build a fire and find us some food. You will grow stronger with the proper nourishment.”
Morning Song turned her head to the wall of the cave. She knew that neither of them was going to make it out of the mountains alive. She closed her eyes, no longer caring. If only it wasn’t winter, they might have made it, she thought sadly. She fell asleep, thinking she would never feel warm again.
Joanna knew the first and most important thing she must do was to build a fire. Many times she had seen Windhawk build one, and she knew what she needed was some flint rocks. She wasn’t sure if she would know what flint looked like even if she did find it.
Joanna walked along the wall of the cave until she came to a smooth rock formation that reminded her of the flint Windhawk had used for the tips of his arrows and lances. She knew that Morning Song could instruct her on how to build a fire, if only she were awake. She would have to d
o the best she could on her own, because Morning Song was so weak she was beyond caring about anything.
Picking up a large stone she found on the floor of the cave, she hit it against the wall until several good-sized pieces of stone chipped away. Next, she found some dried pine needles that the wind had blown into the cave. Gathering them into a pile, she began rubbing the flint together. Joanna tried to remember how Windhawk had used the flint to start a fire. She wished she had paid more attention at the time.
Joanna rubbed and rubbed the stones together, but got no more than a spark. After about half an hour at her task, she was almost crying in frustration. Glancing over at Morning Song, she noticed she hadn’t moved and began to worry about her.
Finally, in desperation, Joanna tried again. This time she applied more pressure to the flint, and her reward was seeing the dry pine needles catch a spark. Joanna gathered up pine cones and dried branches, placed them on the fire, and blew on the smoldering sparks. She was crying tears of happiness by the time the fire licked at the wood and burst into a bright flame.
She knew she would have to gather more wood so she could feed the flames. Not only did they need the fire for warmth, but she hoped it would also serve to keep the wild animals at bay.
Joanna walked out of the cave, hugging her arms about her to keep warm. It was a long, tedious process trying to find firewood under the deep snowdrifts. Every move she made was an effort, but she couldn’t give up. She quickly learned that the best place to search for firewood was underneath the pine trees.
She made several trips to the cave loaded down with wood. Stacking it against the cave wall, she ventured forth again to find still more firewood.
Once more, Joanna noticed that Morning Song hadn’t moved, and she realized she was weaker than she had thought. When, at last, she felt she had enough wood to burn until the next day, she knew the next thing to do would be to try to find food. How, or where, she didn’t know.