‘‘It weren’t a mama bear with cubs, were it?’’
‘‘Never saw any.’’ Jesselynn adjusted the sling, and they started off. ‘‘Saw the log where it had been eating. Think the blood smell from the fish is what caught its attention.’’
‘‘You ever eat bear?’’
Jesselynn shook her head. ‘‘Not a lot of them left in Kentucky, leastways not around Twin Oaks.’’
‘‘It be right good. Greasy. Good for makin’ soap like you started with the lye. My pap used to grease his boots with it too. Kept out the wet real good.’’
‘‘All I know was it looked like a mountain, standing up sniffing the wind like it did. Then Patch came running and tore off a strip of his hide. That bear near went crazy.’’ Jesselynn stopped walking to shift hands. ‘‘When he walloped Patch like he did, why, that dog flew through the air like a rag doll.’’
Jesselynn shuddered again. ‘‘Thank the good Lord he’s still alive. He was trying to save me.’’ She swiped at her eyes again and sniffed. ‘‘Fool dog.’’
They stopped several times to rest, and unconcerned now, Dulcie snatched mouthfuls of rich grass. The colt danced around them, inspecting flowers and brush, snorting at something on a branch.
Jane Ellen laughed heartily at the colt’s antics. ‘‘We got to name him. He can’t be called Colt forever.’’
‘‘He’ll be registered as Ahab, with the second name beginning with J—since he’s the tenth colt. Ahab’s been throwing mostly fillies.’’
‘‘What about Joker? He is one, you know. Makes us all laugh.’’
Jesselynn stopped to switch hands again. ‘‘Ahab’s Joker of Twin Oaks. I like that. A good handle for such a strong colt.’’
‘‘That the way your daddy kept track of the get?’’
‘‘Umm. Long time tradition at Twin Oaks. Haven’t used Domino for stud yet. Had planned to be racing him this year. He did all right as a three year old but was a late bloomer. Not much chance for him to race now.’’
‘‘What they gonna do about the books for registerin’ the Thoroughbreds?’’
Jesselynn shook her head. ‘‘No idea. Not too many Thoroughbreds left in the South, that’s for sure. Lot of the Northern studs were stripped too, I imagine. Those officers like fine horses to ride on.’’ The thought of all the slaughtered horseflesh made her skin crawl. Men at least had a choice. The poor animals had no option but to go where their rider wanted. She watched Joker leap in the air and take off, his brush tail a flag in the breeze. Thank God, I got you all out of there. We at least have something to start over with when that vile war does finally cease.
‘‘It can’t go on forever, can it?’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘The war. Seems they’re going on until all the men and horses are dead, nothing left to fight with.’’
‘‘Jesse comin’.’’ Thaddeus yelled loud enough to be heard across the meadow.
‘‘He can call you Jesselynn now, can’t he?’’ Jane Ellen stopped to get her breath. ‘‘Never thought this dog could weigh so much. He ain’t that big.’’
‘‘Got a mighty big heart, though.’’
‘‘Easy now.’’ Jesselynn cautioned Thaddeus as he ran up to them. ‘‘Patch is hurt right bad.’’
‘‘What happen?’’ Thaddeus eyed the sling. ‘‘He alive?’’
‘‘Yes, a bear took a swipe at him. You go get Ophelia.’’
Thaddeus took off as fast as his legs would pump. ‘‘ ’Phelia, come help.’’ He stumbled over something, got back up, and kept on running.
By the time they reached the entrance to the cave, Ophelia, waddling behind her big belly, met them, shaking her turbaned head. ‘‘A bear? Thaddeus say a bear.’’
‘‘He’s dead. Let’s lay Patch on a pallet by the fire. Bear broke his ribs, or hitting the ground did.’’
Ophelia reached for Jane Ellen’s side of the sling. ‘‘Go ask Aunt Agatha for strips to wrap him ribs. Bestest way to help.’’
‘‘Thaddeus, where’s Meshach?’’
‘‘Gone.’’
‘‘Where?’’
Thaddeus pointed up toward the hills. ‘‘To woods.’’
‘‘Him went lookin’ for wood for de rake. Need hardwood, him say.’’
‘‘Wonderful.’’ All the men were gone.
Jane Ellen came back with a roll of narrow strips of cloth.
After telling them all what happened, Jesselynn and Ophelia knelt on the sandy cave floor, and with gentle fingers, wrapped the strips around the dog’s rib cage, tight enough to hold broken ribs in place but not so tight he couldn’t breathe.
‘‘Thaddeus, get Patch a bowl of warm water.’’
Someone dipped for him, and Thaddeus carried the bowl back, both hands cupped firmly on the side, his tongue firmly clamped between his teeth. The water sloshed as he set it down by the dog’s muzzle.
‘‘Drink, Patch.’’ He stroked the white ear. ‘‘Please, Patch, drink.’’
‘‘Here, like this.’’ Jesselynn dripped some of the water on the side of Patch’s muzzle. He licked it away. Thaddeus repeated her action.
‘‘Look, he likes it.’’ He drizzled more and giggled when Patch quickly licked his fingers.
‘‘Good. Let off awhile and let him sleep, then do the same again until he can drink from the bowl.’’ Jesselynn stood and stretched. ‘‘We’ve got to get that bear back here before some varmint comes in and takes it.’’ But how to get the carcass up on a wagon?
‘‘We could use one of the canvases to drag it on.’’ Jane Ellen followed Jesselynn toward the mouth of the cave.
‘‘Good idea. Let’s yoke up a span of oxen. They won’t be so flighty with the smell. You go get them, and I’ll get the canvas. We’ll set the yoke together.’’
‘‘You need some more help?’’ Mrs. McPhereson met them in front of the cave. ‘‘I can get Mrs. Jones too.’’
Jesselynn noticed the omission of Aunt Agatha. Far as she knew or seemed to care, the bear might have gotten her. ‘‘Thanks, I’d appreciate that.’’ When the others left to do their part, Jesselynn stood shaking her head. What will it take, Lord? We can’t go on like this forever. You say to forgive as we have been forgiven. How do I forgive someone who won’t even look me in the eye, let alone talk with me? This is beyond me. You’re going to have to fix it. And I’d appreciate it done soon. Life’s too short to carry noxious things like this. At the remembered sight of the bear standing upright, its heavy head swinging from side to side testing the air for scents, her mouth dried again. If that didn’t bring on nightmares, not much else would anymore.
Within minutes they were striding out across the meadow to the creek and around the rock face to the pond.
Jesselynn had to tell her story one more time, since Darcy Jones hadn’t heard it. Ophelia pronounced, ‘‘De Lawd done take good care of her.’’
‘‘Wait until the men hear about this. They’ll never let us go beyond the creek.’’ Mrs. Jones hefted the saw over her shoulder.
‘‘Just make sure you don’t go without a gun. And don’t let it get out of arm’s reach. That’s where I made a big mistake. I leaned it up against the tree behind me. Never again, no matter how cumbersome.’’
Three turkey vultures, their red heads naked of feathers, lifted off from where the carcass lay in the grass and low brush. Ravens scattered, their hoarse voices scolding at the intrusion.
‘‘Good thing we didn’t wait. They’ve announced the kill to the entire forest.’’ Jesselynn stopped the oxen a ways away. ‘‘Let them graze while we dress the bear out.’’
Knives and saw in hand, the women approached the bear.
‘‘He’s so big.’’ Jane Ellen stopped, her eyes as big as her voice sounded small.
‘‘You should have seen him standing.’’ Jesselynn stood over the carcass. ‘‘Let’s roll him over. Can’t be much different than dressing an elk.’’
‘‘Look at his claws.’’ Mr
s. Mac hefted a forepaw.
‘‘And teeth.’’ Jane Ellen stepped backwards. ‘‘I never seen anythin’ so fierce.’’
‘‘Can we eat him?’’ Mrs. Jones wrinkled her nose. ‘‘He smells rank.’’
‘‘Bear meat is good. My pa brought some home.’’ Jane Ellen ran her hand over the fur. ‘‘Be a good hide.’’
Jesselynn sharpened her skinning knife on the whetstone she’d brought along, yet still, sawing through the hide took time, even on the tender underbelly. As soon as she’d slit the belly, the others dug in to help her. By the time they’d gutted the beast, they were all dripping wet, though the rain had stopped and a breeze now swept across the pond.
‘‘The wind is keeping the mosquitoes down at least.’’ Mrs.
Mac sat back on her heels and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a streak of blood across it. Her bleached calico sunbonnet hung down her back out of the way.
‘‘Do we want to wash these intestines like we do a pig for sausage?’’
‘‘I don’t know. Might be different for meat eaters. We used them from the buffalo and the elk.’’ Jesselynn turned her head away to get a breath of fresh air. ‘‘And to think that all I wanted was fresh fish for supper.’’
‘‘You got a nice perch over there.’’ Jane Ellen nodded toward the bank where Jesselynn had been fishing. ‘‘You want I should try for some more?’’
‘‘Why not.’’ Jesselynn untied the pouch with worms from her belt and handed it to her. ‘‘No sense letting the worms go to waste. The pole I cut is right there too.’’
The three women finished cleaning up the carcass and, leaving the hide on to protect the meat, rolled the bear onto the canvas. They lashed the two sides together and across the end to form a pouch, tied the open end to the single tree, and started the oxen back to camp.
‘‘Come on, Jane Ellen, no one is staying out here alone again.’’
‘‘Just one more? They’re biting like . . . like . . .’’
‘‘Come on.’’ Jesselynn turned to Mrs. Mac. ‘‘You start on back, and I reckon we’ll catch up before you get to the caves.’’
Taking the rifle with her, Jesselynn strolled on over to lean against the tree. Jane Ellen jerked the pole, and a fish flew back. Jesselynn ducked.
‘‘You nearly got me.’’
‘‘Sorry. I never had so much fun fishin’ in my entire life.’’ Jane Ellen dug in the pouch, turned it inside out, and shook her head. ‘‘Out of worms.’’ She sighed and crossed her arms on her knees. ‘‘Right purty place, isn’t it?’’
‘‘Sure enough is. No wonder Wolf remembered it.’’
‘‘He and his daddy stayed here one winter, right?’’ Jane Ellen wrapped the string around the pole, then leaned forward and pulled her forked branch lined with fish out of the water. She held it up for Jesselynn to see. ‘‘You want to help carry ’em?’’
Meshach was the only man in camp when they returned; he’d just come back with several cottonwood trunks and branches, which were now leaning against the cave wall. He helped unwrap the bear and whistled his surprise. Looking up at Jesselynn, he shook his head slowly, as if he couldn’t believe what he saw.
‘‘I be thinkin’ you got some story to tell. Wait till Wolf see dis.’’
For a second Jesselynn froze. Would Wolf be angry? After all, it wasn’t like she’d gone hunting; she’d just done what he’d always told her. Be prepared to shoot, and when you shoot, shoot to kill.
‘‘We better hang dis in back of de cave where it’s cooler.’’
‘‘How?’’
‘‘Put up a bar, I be thinkin’.’’
‘‘Have we anything strong enough to hold ’im?’’ While she talked, Jesselynn disengaged the oxen and loosed them to rejoin the herd.
‘‘Mebbe one trunk I bring in.’’ He ducked into the cave and brought out a stout trunk. ‘‘I get de brace up.’’
‘‘Good, and we’ll skin him and cut off the head and paws.’’
They all set to their jobs, and by the time the hunters returned, the bear was hanging in the back of the cave. Aunt Agatha was frying fish for supper, and Mrs. Mac was making corn pones from cornmeal, flour, bacon fat, and water. She patted them together and laid them in the frying pan to sizzle in more bacon grease.
Wolf had a deer thrown across the back of his horse, as did Benjamin.
‘‘More skinnin’.’’ Jane Ellen and Mrs. Jones looked at each other and shook their heads.
‘‘More skinnin’?’’ Wolf turned from untying the deer.
Jesselynn kept from smiling. ‘‘Nice deer.’’ She touched the four prongs on the antlers. ‘‘These will come in handy.’’
Benjamin looked at Wolf, then around the circle of women and back to Wolf. Meshach turned away.
‘‘Need more bars.’’
Wolf narrowed his eyes and, after lowering the deer to the ground, looked full at his wife. ‘‘What is goin’ on?’’
Jesselynn shrugged. ‘‘Nothing now.’’
‘‘Now?’’
She shrugged. ‘‘Well, we got him all skinned and hung. And just in time, looks like, since you brought in more. I reckon we’re going to be doing a lot of smoking, that’s for certain sure.’’
‘‘Keep those little boys breakin’ kindlin’.’’ Jane Ellen kept a straight face too. Mrs. Mac turned away, a cough covering her laughter.
‘‘Think I’ll go help Ophelia.’’ Mrs. Jones scurried into the cave like something was after her.
‘‘Jesselynn, I got me a feeling . . .’’Wolf took one step toward her.
‘‘Well, Mr. Wolf, he’s only a little bear.’’ Jesselynn rolled her lips together.
‘‘A bear. Meshach shot a bear?’’
‘‘No, sir.’’ She stuck her hands in her pockets and studied the design her boot toe sketched in the dirt.
‘‘Who shot the bear?’’ His voice deepened.
‘‘Me.’’ She shrugged and looked up at him from under her lashes.
His face wore that cut-granite look she knew meant trouble.
‘‘I had the rifle along, and the bear smelt the fish, I think, and Patch came charging to the rescue, and I shot the bear before he could finish off Patch, and so we’’—she indicated the women with a sweep of her hand—‘‘gutted him and Meshach hung him, and . . .’’ She felt impaled to the cave wall by his stare.
‘‘Supper ready,’’ Thaddeus called from the mouth of the cooking cave. ‘‘Wolf, you back.’’
‘‘The rest of you go on and eat. We’ll be there in a moment.’’
‘‘Should we wait grace?’’ Meshach shoved the stick he’d been carving through the tendons on the rear legs of one of the deer and threw it over his shoulder with a grunt. ‘‘I hang dis.’’
‘‘No, yes . . .’’ Wolf shook his head. ‘‘Show me the bear, Mrs. Torstead. Perhaps we should name you She Who Kills Bear.’’ He slung his arm over her shoulder, and they entered the cave. ‘‘Thank God, you are safe. Shooting a bear. And here I thought I left you safe in camp.’’
‘‘All I did was go fishing.’’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Richmond, Virginia
Dear Jesselynn, Thaddeus, and all the others,
I am writing a quick letter so you can be aware of what is going on here. I’m sure Carrie Mae has written to tell of her beautiful little daughter. They named her after our mother and Jefferson’s, Miriam Amelia. Carrie Mae had a fairly easy birthing, even though to hear her you’d think she was in labor for all of August instead of only hours. But little Miriam is precious, and I go to see her as often as I can. Would that it were more so, but we had a major crisis here. Aunt Sylvania suffered a minor apoplexy that scared us all, especially her. But she is recovering well, and we are all grateful. Our new kitten, named Bones by one of our guests, is her delight.
I must tell you that I am concerned about Zachary. Please pray that he not turn his back on his Christian upbringing. I know Mama a
nd Daddy are beseeching our Father before the throne, but I covet all earthly prayers too. He has become so cynical, I hardly recognize him any longer. Yet, every so often he’s as nice as can be.
I just don’t know what to do about him.
Our boys here at the house are sewing and knitting for those still on the march.
I must tell you that Zachary and I are making another trip. Each one stretches my faith as I pray for our Father’s protection, both for us and for those at home.
Oh, sister, I want this despicable war over and done with, so we may get on with our lives. I want to go home, no matter how damaged Twin Oaks is. We received a letter from Lucinda saying the taxes are due. How can they levy taxes on those who have given so much for the cause of the South? I struggle with this like the straw that broke this woman’s back. Zachary has said he will take care of it, but since he has said nothing further, I have my doubts there too. The thought of losing Twin Oaks is intolerable. My heart bleeds again and again, until I fear I shall have nothing left to give. How much can our Lord expect of us? I know the answer—He has said we will never be tried beyond our strength. But, enough of my whining.
How are all of you? Where are you? I am so anxious for a letter from you. How big is Thaddeus now? I pray you tell him about us and our lives at Twin Oaks, so he knows whereof he came.
We all send our love and our prayers, as I know you pray for us. Someday we will all live together again at Twin Oaks in dear Kentucky. Lord bless and keep you, my dear sister and brother.
I know I am including love from all the others here.
A tear just missed blotting the page as she signed her name and let the ink dry while she addressed the envelope.
With the letter ready to send, she blew out the lamp and climbed into bed. Any day now and she and Zachary would be on the road.
‘‘We’ll do a grieving mother and father this time, using a coffin again and that false-bottomed buggy. I’ve had a foot carved to fit in a boot so it won’t be so obvious I’ve lost mine.’’ Zachary had made plans for another trip to the North.
The Long Way Home Page 17