Back To Our Beginning

by C. L. Scholey

  Tansy was near the mine door at the larger stove basting her roast when she heard it; a small sound growing in tempo. She had an odd thought a train was approaching and she sat stunned. Tansy’s heart began to pound in her chest as the rain suddenly came down in a deluge of thunder and lightning. She heard the unmistakable sounds of hail bouncing off the rocks at the front, outside the mine opening they kept partially open for air circulation.

  As her breath took flight so too did she. She raced to Ethan who was close by and grasped up his hands, unable to speak; she looked into his eyes, her body was shaking. His questioning look turned to shock and fear when the sounds increased and understanding dawned.

  “Tornado!” Ethan boomed, his grip tightened on Tansy’s hand and he began running.

  Chapter 14

  Not releasing Tansy’s hand, Ethan yelled for everyone to take cover in the back of the tunnel, centered in the middle of the mine where their provisions were stored for the winter months. Ominous swirls of dust were picking up in the bottom and side of the mine closest to the other exits, which had been partially sealed.

  Michaela screamed and Tansy cried out, “My girls!”

  She tried to yank her hand from Ethan’s, but he held onto her and continued to race forward. They’d been the closest to the entrance of the mine, their escape more of a quandary while taking flight. Aidan grabbed a strong hold on Emmy’s arm, his other wrapped around her tiny waist, and was ushering her into the eighteen-foot tunnel. Shanie picked up Michaela, cradling the child to her chest; both were swept off their feet in mid-flight into Clint’s embrace as he continued to race for cover.

  Seeing the girls ahead of Tansy and himself well on their way to safety, Ethan felt a wave of gratitude as Cord scooped up Ricky under an arm and both disappeared into the dark tunnel with Lucky close on their heels. Forcefully thrusting Tansy ahead of him, Ethan practically flew in behind her. They crouched at the back of the tunnel huddled together in fear for their safety. Tansy grabbed up a comforter from one of the shelves and had help as they pulled it over them.

  They stayed huddled with their bodies pressed together in the dark, listening horrified to the sounds of trees and rocks being bashed mercilessly against the sides of their mine. Hail beating out a fearsome staccato, a death dance to hapless animals and unshielded foliage. They wrapped themselves within one another’s embrace, taking comfort in the warm body next to them even after the noise of the tornado could no longer be heard and the rain and hail had stopped pounding.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Michaela announced.

  “Me, too,” Ricky said.

  “Me three,” Clint offered.

  “I think it’s safe now,” Ethan said.

  All ventured back into the main area of the mine. Tansy was elated. Nothing had changed or moved. Perhaps the tornado only sounded close. Tansy was convinced the mines were in fact the safest home; she’d done it, she had protected her children. Shane would be proud of her; the promise had been upheld. Then to her great surprise, she began to cry. Then to sob hysterically. Weary hands came up to cover over her face as she gave into her anguish; her knees buckling from the emotional release of pent-up sorrow.

  Michaela began crying. Ricky soon joined in followed by Emmy and Shanie. The four men stood helplessly while the women and children finally found solace in their grief. It had been a long, hard seven months.

  Not being able to stand their tears, Clint grabbed up Tansy and Michaela and took them to one of the bear rugs while he did his best to console them. Ethan took charge of his son and a whimpering Lucky, while Aidan and Cord stumbled over each other trying to ease Emmy’s and Shanie’s sorrow. Clint looked in desperation to the other men.

  “Jist how long do you think tornado season is?” Clint asked.

  “All summer I would imagine now,” Ethan told him. Ricky’s head was buried in his chest while Lucky added his own pitiful howls, nosing his way under an arm.

  “Well damn.” Clint rubbed Tansy’s back and patted Michaela’s head. “It’s gonna be a long summer.” There were nods of agreement all around.

  * * * *

  Squish. Michaela laughed. Squish. Ricky laughed. They were both barefoot in the swampy section of a lake. Ricky wore only a breechclout, as did Michaela. Shanie, dressed scantily in the terrible heat that snuck up on them within days of spring, had made herself her own clothing; a piece of leather looped through a leather belt secured snugly around her hips, pulled through covering her front and back, then a rabbit hide halter top. She was searching for bullfrogs. The children were supposed to be helping her find smaller frogs or pollywogs to use as bait, but the new squishy game captured their attention.

  Shanie’s gaze centered on another bullfrog, they both leaped at the same time but Shanie was faster. She grabbed the frog in a firm grip and bashed it against a log, killing it instantly. She added it to the others in the back of her pack. Once the legs were skinned and boiled they were fried in fat with seasonings added and were a favorite of Shanie’s who had been astounded at that fact. Shanie had to admit a lot of things were surprising. She came to realize her mother was more ‘together’ than she’d thought, or would have liked to admit. Emmy was tougher than she’d given her credit for, and she wasn’t really as jealous of Michaela as she once thought she was.

  Almost losing her sisters and mother so many times, Shanie’s anger had been redirected to survival. Not only hers, but that of her family’s. Now that family included a little brother, who was at that moment squishing muck happily between his toes, the ever-present faces of the four large men who considered it their duty to protect her and everyone else, including each other.

  Shanie heard more laughter and rolled her eyes while shaking her head. There stood Clint, in mid-length buckskin pants, also squishing muck between his toes. He looked just as happy as the kids.

  Spotting another bullfrog resting between a log and a rock, Shanie approached. She could have used her slingshot but needed the practice of sneaking up on her quarry. She made a hunting game of her own by stealthily following Ethan or Clint and surprising them in various areas. They were good natured and praised her when she actually caught them off-guard. But the one time she stalked Aidan she found herself flat on her back, a knife at her throat. Shanie had been terrified.

  Aidan had been overly apologetic. Shanie left him alone after that, giving him such a wide berth when they came into contact Aidan felt like a pariah. He made amends by giving her a flute and called for a truce. Shanie accepted and played the homemade high pitched sometimes shrill instrument a great deal, much to the annoyance of everyone else.

  “Gotcha,” Shanie said triumphantly, holding the frog around the waist. It opened its mouth and gave a small cry. “Don’t do that,” Shanie commanded. “Be a man...or a frog.” The frog cried again.

  The sound, so pitiful and helpless to Shanie’s ears, she relented and lowered it to the water, releasing it. She decided she had enough anyway. Shanie took a step toward shore then tried to cry out as a hand went over her mouth, a strong arm pinned her arms to her waist.

  Shanie struggled, but it was useless; he picked her up out of the water and held her easily, though not un-gently, in powerful arms and she tired.

  “Mercy is for the weak.” A deep voice whispered in her ear, his warm breath ruffling her hair and tickling the side of her neck.

  “Let go, Cord, before Tansy sees you and you get an arrow through your thick head,” Clint said in warning.

  Laughing, Cord set Shanie back on her feet, releasing her. She spun and took a wild swing at him, which he dodged with ease. “You’re a jerk,” Shanie snapped.

  “Now there’s an understatement,” Emmy voiced, having witnessed the exchange, a deep scowl set about her annoyed face.

  “Aw now, I was just playing,” Cord called after Shanie as she stomped out of the water making sure she splashed him. He stood looking contrite, or as contrite as he could muster, while dripping and grinning.

  “Co
me on, Shanie, I didn’t hurt you.”

  “Forget another flute, you’re gonna need a banjo,” Clint told him. Emmy took Ricky and Mike by the hand, followed by a furious Shanie up the incline barefoot.

  “How come when you do stuff like that they laugh, but when I do it I’m the big bad wolf?” Cord asked.

  “’Cause you are. Hell, they’ve seen your fangs.”

  “I saved Emmy’s life,” Cord argued, at once on the defensive.

  “Yeah...yeah, but they seen you take one, too.”

  “So, what the hell do I do?”

  Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t care, but Cord realized he would doubtless be with his new family for a long time. Cord was beginning to ponder the benefits of acceptance while living in such close quarters to one another. On a certain level he was beginning to become dismayed at the antagonistic looks Shanie tossed in his direction. Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life hated or even feared.

  Feeling a bit sorry for him, Clint sat down to think. “Flowers are bloomin’.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they’d like them saved for my grave.”

  “Maybe you could do somethin’ nice for someone.”

  “Like what?” Cord asked.

  “I dunno, maybe somethin’ will come to you,” Clint answered; he rose and began following the girls through the woods with Cord trailing.

  Michaela skipped ahead, anxious to return to play with Lucky. The pup had been forbidden to come because of what happened the last time. Lucky had bounded through the water frightening every frog, fish and turtle insight.

  Ricky trailed behind, poking his head into a few nooks and crannies along the way. At a particularly interesting opening of a group of rocks, Ricky stopped and peered inside. It was dark and dank and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. As Ricky moved away he felt a terrible sudden pain as his foot was grabbed and held by sharp teeth, he screamed in agony as his ankle felt as though it were being crushed. Ricky grabbed at the rocks, at roots, anything to stop his descent as he was being dragged down into the dark frightening cave.

  “Daddy, help me!” Ricky screamed as his small arms flailed.

  Emmy was the first to reach him. She ordered Shanie to get Michaela and keep her away from whatever it was that was attacking. She saw Ricky being dragged down into a hole and reached out to grab his hand, he screamed as a power struggle of tug of war ensued. Emmy added her own screams of terror to Ricky’s as she looked into two dark soulless eyes. Her brain registered it was a snake but her mind screamed out a denial. No snake was this big.

  Hearing Ricky’s screams Clint bolted up the path followed by an equally quick Cord. They raced heart in mouth as Emmy added her own screams to the boy’s. Arriving in a panic, Clint, seeing the danger, grabbed Emmy and tossed her away from the snake. She howled in protest, recovering herself, and made ready to once again rush to the child’s aid, but Clint ordered her back.

  “Oh shit, Cord, what the hell is it?” Clint gasped, pulling on Ricky’s underarms.

  Cord grabbed at the knife strapped to his pant leg, preparing to stab it. “It’s an anaconda,” Cord ground out before stabbing repeatedly into its neck.

  Cord was too afraid to aim for its head, fearful he would stab into the boy’s foot. His long hunting knife plunged again and again until the snake released Ricky and lunged at Cord. Clint fell backwards once the pressure was released taking an unconscious Ricky with him. Cord scrambled backwards and thrust his knife at the same time. The anaconda closed its huge mouth over Cord’s hand, the force drove the knife up through its nostrils, it continued to bite down.

  Cord yelled in pain as the teeth closed in around his wrist. The agony of feeling as though his wrist were being crushed was almost unbearable. Reflex demanded he push at the snake’s mouth with his free hand, he resisted and instead moved in closer to counteract the attack, putting him into a closer proximity with the monstrosity, the snake almost pulled onto his lap.

  “No. Emmy, stay back,” Cord screamed, but his concerned cries fell on deaf ears as he saw her approach from the corner of his eye.

  Emmy leaped then viciously plunged her small knife into the snakes eye. She withdrew it and plunged it into the other. After Emmy sunk her knife into the huge reptile Cord felt its grip releasing. Fearing it would turn its attack on her he turned his knife sideways, embedding the weapon angularly, not allowing it to open its mouth.

  Lying prone on the anaconda, Emmy stabbed into it while screaming. The snake flailed, half of it trapped inside the cave tossing its head and body as Cord tried to offer assistance by gripping it with his other arm. Hanging on for all she was worth, her legs and arm wrapped around the hideous beast, Emmy continued her attack, stabbing and slicing as viciously as she could, her rage adding to her strength. Finally defeated, the giant snake slowed, shuddered and slumped to the ground. One last jagged slice to its throat, the snake lay dead in a pool of blood, human and its own.

  “Whoa. Emmy two, big bad animals zero,” Shanie whispered.

  Clint grabbed Emmy’s knife from her, peeling it from her grasp, and cut Cord’s hand out of the snake’s mouth. Cord sat shakily, cupping his slimy hand to his chest, he looked at Emmy.

  “Guess we’re even now,” he told her.

  Emmy returned his steady gaze with her own, her face blotchy, as though undecided whether she should be red from exertion or pale from fear. “Not even Cord...equal.” He nodded and with her help rose to his feet.

  Clint picked up Ricky who lay unconscious then looked down at the dead snake. Only half of its body had emerged during the struggle and he guessed it to be close to twenty feet long and estimated it at close to four hundred pounds.

  “You think there’s more?” he asked anxiously.

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to stick around and find out,” Cord remarked, a firm grip on his injured wrist. Neither did the others, they moved off back to the safety of the mine.

  * * * *

  “Oh my God,” Ethan cried, while hovering over Ricky’s prone body.

  The child hadn’t regained consciousness. Tansy felt his pulse, it was weak, rapid, he was deathly white. There was no fever, he was cold and perspiring. His ankle was bloodied from tooth marks. The group related their story. Cord told Tansy not to fuss with his wrist until she had tended Ricky.

  Tansy crushed up burdock root and made a decoction of it then applied it directly to both of their wounds after washing them thoroughly, wishing she had more salt that would aid with the cleansing. She made an infusion of yarrow leaves and flowers she would try later. The burdock root would help with the pain as well as cleansing the wounds. She sent Clint in search of chamomile that would help break a fever if she infused the leaves and flowers. Tansy knew where there was a patch of garlic and sent Aidan off to retrieve some, the expressed juice would aid as an antiseptic and they would need it.

  They had willow bark tea for pain. Ricky’s ankle was definitely broken. Tansy was grateful Cord’s wrist was not. The handle of the knife blade lodged inside the snake’s mouth had spared him the same fate.

  Tansy sent Ethan out for great mullein. At first unwilling to leave his son and go search through grass, Tansy told him she could make a tea from the flowers to use as a sedative and pain reliever; he was the only one who, besides Tansy, could identify the plant. They couldn’t waste precious time sending someone else who was unsure of what they were looking for. Tansy told Ethan Ricky would need it. Looking at Cord’s tight face, she decided he would benefit from it.

  Once Tansy was able to administer oral medications to Cord, he slept with a hot poultice on his swollen wrist. Tansy hoped neither Cord’s nor Ricky’s wounds would fester. Ricky had become like the son she and Shane never had, sweet, fun loving, a precocious boy, she was more than just fond of him. It wasn’t going to do anyone any good if she panicked.

  Throughout the night, Ricky woke and thrashed in pain. Tansy gave him sips of tea until the sedative
took effect and he slept fitfully. Ethan refused to eat or sleep and Tansy worried about his health. Finally, she was able to encourage him to drink and slipped him some of Ricky’s sedative tea. When Ethan slept, Tansy breathed easier; she already had two patients, she didn’t need another.

  Morning came and Ricky’s fever raged. Tansy was fearful they would lose him. Looking at Ethan, she knew he would follow if his son died; he didn’t have Clint’s inner strength and was losing his will to continue. Tansy grabbed Ethan by his arms and forced him into a confrontation.

  “Damn you, he’s not dead. If you lose hope, he will. He’s not Sarah; he’s strong and young and has you to come back to.”

  Tansy’s agonized expression belied her harshly spoken words. Ethan could see her agony was for him as well as his son. Looking around at the other solemn expressions, Ethan realized he wasn’t alone. He was surrounded by others who cared.

  Ethan took his son’s limp hand and began telling him of the day he’d been born. How desperately he was wanted. The pride and joy Ethan experienced the first time he’d held him, the numerous happy promises he made. He begged him not to leave him alone, he retrieved the doll Ricky had taken from Sarah and placed it near his head. With his eyes dripping tears, Ethan kissed his son’s hands and recalled story after story about Ricky’s life and the adventures they’d shared and the ones they would share if he would come back to him.

  Ethan forced the agony of losing his wife into the bowels of his belly and talked until he grew hoarse. All who watched were moved to tears, especially Aidan. Aidan couldn’t stand the thought of losing Ricky, and the idea of losing his first real best friend was incomprehensible. He found himself wandering just as dazed as Ethan. Aidan was grateful for Emmy’s thoughtful kind words and her gentle touch. She seemed to soothe his fears with her understanding looks and a soft embrace. He took note she was not only brave and beautiful but compassionate and caring.

  They all took turns washing Ricky’s face and torso with cool water. Tansy gave him sips of fever reducing tea, cleaned his wounds and wrapped them within a poultice again. Another night passed. Morning came, Tansy checked Cord’s wrist. It had bruised badly but thankfully there was no sign of infection. Exhausted, Tansy began changing Ricky’s poultice. She worked steadily, cleaning the wound. It was swollen and bruised but Tansy dared not attempt to place a birch bark cast on it until the swelling calmed and the wound began to heal. Instead his foot was held immobile, supported by furs and skins. Tansy cleaned a particularly infected area and jumped at Ricky’s cry of protest.