The Northland Chronicles: A Stranger North

by Henry J. Olsen

  “How’s our mystery man holding up?” she said, walking over to the bed.

  “No change,” Nathan said. “Still sleeping like a baby.”

  Cynthia leaned over and felt the man’s forehead.

  “No temperature to speak of,” she noted.

  “Any idea what’s wrong with him?” he asked.

  “Not the slightest,” she replied. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Nathan watched as Cynthia pulled the sheet down, revealing the man’s upper body and his dark plaid shirt that was unraveling at the seams. She felt the man’s wrist, checking his vitals. Cynthia really knows her stuff, Nathan thought. Technically she was only a nurse, but Frontier View considered her the village doctor. She could dress wounds, set bones, relieve flu symptoms — all the important things.

  No, she couldn’t work miracles; not that anyone could anymore. Even the best doctors in Duluth had trouble with advanced ailments — a fact Nathan had painstakingly learned. If he could go back in time, to his father’s final days, he would have let his dad spend that time at home with friends and family, rather than within the whitewashed confines of the Duluth General Hospital …

  “Earth to Nathan!” Cynthia said, snapping her fingers to get his attention.

  “Yeah?” Nathan said as he came out of his daydream, yanking his head back upward.

  “I can take it from here,” she said with a smile. “And I bet you still have to give Emiko a piece of your mind.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Nathan groaned. Why couldn’t his sister just grow up? He stood up and headed for the door.

  “Thanks for your help, Nathan,” Cynthia said.

  “Anytime,” he replied, nodding at her as he left the room and made his way out of the cabin.

  Was it already late afternoon? The sun had sunk low into the western sky, yet the stifling midsummer heat remained. Nathan looked across the way at the row of cabins. Sometimes it still amazed him that he had gone from growing up in Minneapolis to living a quaint hamlet in the middle of the woods. He had long since realized that life in Frontier View wasn’t better or worse than the hustle and bustle of Minneapolis — just different, though he did occasionally miss the conveniences of the city. He didn’t imagine Frontier View would be implementing a light rail system anytime soon.

  He trudged to his cabin, where a confrontation with Emiko awaited. The initial rush of anger had subsided, but it was still his responsibility to try to talk a bit of sense into her. Every time Emiko disappeared, it felt like The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Nathan never knew if she had stumbled into trouble or she was just rebelliously gallivanting around the woods.

  The cabin door creaked open. On Nathan’s left was the entrance to the bedroom. Behind it in the far corner was a kitchen area. The kitchen extended into the dining and living areas that comprised the right half of the homely cabin. Old family photos and a few pieces of childhood artwork adorned the walls, reminders of the days when Nathan was still an elementary school student in the city.

  Emiko sat in the same rocking chair where he’d kept his vigil. She was reading a book from the bookshelf behind it, trying to pretend nothing had happened.

  “Hey, sis,” Nathan greeted.

  “Hey, how is Beard?” Emiko replied without looking up from her book.

  “Beard?” Nathan asked. “That’s what you call him?” His sister was definitely trying to avoid a serious discussion, but he didn’t feel like pushing the issue.

  “Well, we don’t know his name,” she said, setting the book on her lap, “so I figured I’d give him a nickname.”

  Nathan rolled his eyes. Though the name was oddly endearing …

  “You know, ‘Beard’ might blow your head off if he hears you call him that.” He stepped closer to the rocking chair and looked down at Emiko sternly. “It’d save me the trouble.”

  Emiko stood up and walked past Nathan.

  “What would Mom and Dad think if they saw us now?” she asked, looking at a drawing above the bookcase — a family portrait drawn in crayon, drawn by Emiko many years ago.

  “They’d be proud, I’m sure. Happy to see we’re getting by,” Nathan answered. “What do you think?”

  “Huh? Since when do you care what I think?” Emiko replied.

  “Since … well, since always,” Nathan said. “We’re in this together, right?”

  His sister paused to think.

  “I think they’d be proud of us, too,” she said.

  “Proud of me, at least,” he said with a grin. “I don’t know about you. I mean, look at that drawing — you couldn’t even spell my name correctly.” Wasn’t he supposed to be scolding her? And yet here he was, smiling and joking around. At this rate, he’d never rein in her irresponsible teenage escapades.

  “That’s no fair!” Emiko said, glaring at her brother. “By the way, what’s for dinner?”

  Does she really think I don’t know what she’s doing? Nathan wondered. He’d let her get away with changing the subject — for now.

  “How about squirrel and potato stew?” he suggested.

  Emiko grimaced, then gave a reluctant nod.

  “Don’t look at me like that. I’m just the cook — you’re the great huntress of Frontier View.” Nathan chuckled.

  “I hate it when you call me that!” Emiko snarled.

  “Then shoot some bigger game,” Nathan said. Admittedly, eating small game at every meal was growing tiresome.

  “Maybe I would, if you’d give me a rifle more powerful than a .22,” Emiko suggested.

  Nathan shrugged. “Dad would tell you not to make excuses,” he said, smirking as he wandered toward the kitchen.

  Chapter 4

  “This is the General.”

  “Private Brushnell reporting, sir.”

  “The trail still warm?”

  “More than warm — the situation is heating up, sir.”

  There was a moment of silence.

  “Well, out with it son.”

  “Er, right — Osborne collapsed in the road this morning. As I approached, a young girl wandered out from the woods and discovered him. After the girl left, a group came to the location and carried Osborne to a nearby village.”

  “And why didn’t you report this to me immediately?”

  “I felt it could wait, sir.”

  “Fair enough. Level-headedness in the field — a good trait to have. What’s the name of the village?”

  “Frontier View, sir.”

  “We have an outpost just north of there, on Sawbill Lake.”

  “Correct, sir.”

  The general paused before continuing.

  “Private, I need your opinion. Tell me, does Osborne appear to have a destination?”

  “No, sir. As near as I can tell he’s wandering aimlessly, in no hurry to arrive anywhere.”

  “Alright. In that case, go join the men at Sawbill Lake for the time being.”

  “What about Osborne?”

  “He’ll be held up for a bit, I suspect. Just keep tabs on him from afar. I’ll give you further instructions tomorrow.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  “The General, over and out.”

  The private gazed at the floor of his pup tent, troubled. This mission was bringing him a bit too close to home. Well, former home. A year ago he’d left Frontier View, vowing never to return. He had no intention of breaking that promise now.

  He crawled into this sleeping bag and closed his eyes, content to put off the problem until it came to a head.

  Chapter 5

  The morning dew still glistened on the leaves as Emiko scampered through the forest. Stray droplets of water collected on her long black hair, giving it a moist sheen. She’d set out early, while Nathan was still catching up on his sleep, in order to avoid her brother’s dire warnings about the dangers of the forest. What did he know anyway? She spent far more time dashing through the brush and trees than he ever had. Through her childhood and during her father’s illness, the woods had remained her
only steadfast companion. With the Ruger 10/22 strapped to her back, she had nothing to fear.

  Every morning she made rounds, checking her traps to see if they had snared any critters overnight. She leapt over a small log, then fell to her knees to check a box trap, tucked discreetly underneath a raspberry bush.

  She swept away the lush green leaves of the bush and looked in the trap. There was nothing inside, not even the bait she’d carefully placed yesterday. She frowned, picking it up to take a closer look.

  Her father had bought this trap in Duluth. It was a steel cage with a spring-loaded door that slammed shut when a creature put weight on the center plate that held the bait. Emiko reached her hand inside and wiggled the plate. With a little effort, the door swung shut on her arm. She pried it open and took a closer look. The spring mechanism needed a fresh rub of grease; unfortunately, she didn’t have any right now. She put a few breadcrumbs on the plate, seeing as there was still a chance the trap would snap shut on a rodent, then made a mental note to get a little oil from the Frontier View Co-op later.

  Sometimes she wondered if Nathan appreciated all the work she did. After all, he only saw the spoils; he didn’t see the effort that went into bringing home meat. Checking the traps, sniping small game, making sure her rifle was always in tip-top shape — those were all her responsibilities. Yet if she lapsed in even one of those things, she and Nathan would have to resort to begging neighbors for food.

  Oh sure, Nathan toiled too — mostly in the fields around Frontier View, tending to tubers, collard greens, cabbage … pretty much whatever would grow. And he took care of gathering firewood, as well as most of the household chores. His role was as important as hers, if not more so. She accepted that. What irked her was that Nathan often said they were “partners” … but did he treat her like a partner? Emiko surely didn’t think so. He still treated her like a kid. Their dad could get away with that, but Nathan? No way.

  Stepping lightly, she approached a fallen white pine. It was a massive length of timber with gnarled roots at the base. It had been down for nearly three years now. Before it fell, it would have lorded above the other trees. Now, however, it served as one of her favorite hunting blinds. The elements had gradually eaten away its branches, allowing her to easily rest against it. The location was perfect as well. A bubbling brook weaved through the trees, about a hundred feet north of the log. She could hide behind its wide trunk and watch as game approached to drink at the narrow stream. Occasionally she would sit there all day, observing the wildlife. As a steward of the forest, she prided herself on taking only what she needed.

  Emiko yawned. How long had it been since she’d had a decent night’s sleep? A little nap couldn’t hurt. She took the gun off her back and set it on the decomposing bark of the massive log. Then she leaned against the log and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to take her and thankful that Nathan couldn’t pester her here.

  ***

  “Disappearing chickens?” Nathan asked, surprised.

  “That’s right,” Pierre answered. “I go out in the morning expecting a couple fresh eggs, only to find that half my chickens are gone!”

  Just my luck, Nathan thought. He’d come to Pierre’s place hoping to get an egg or two in exchange for a scoop of lard.

  “I haven’t the slightest idea where they’re disappearing to. Could be wolves, I suppose? Maybe I’ll organize a night watch.” Pierre shook his head and let out a sigh. “In any case, I still have a few eggs lying around and the stove’s already hot, so how about we share some breakfast?”

  “That’d be great.” Nathan nodded approvingly. Pierre, a former history professor, was always willing to lend a hand. He was the oldest man in town, with white hair and jowls that resembled a German Boxer’s. He stood about as tall as Nathan and sported a slight paunch, yet he was quite spry for his age. Nathan imagined if Frontier View needed a mayor, Pierre would be on the short list.

  Pierre took a moment to wipe the thick lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses on his shirt, then began to work on breakfast.

  “Let’s see … we have lard and eggs,” he said, thinking out loud. “I believe I have an onion or two around here as well …” he trailed off, as he sifted through a cabinet near his stove.

  Pierre’s house was even smaller than Nathan’s — a single-room cabin. A narrow bed sat to the left of the entrance. On the other side of the door there was a rocking chair, resting near towering stacks of unshelved books, precariously balanced against the wall. The other side of the cabin consisted of cooking and dining space, complete with a wood stove, which also kept the cabin warm in the winter.

  “Aha, an onion!” Pierre exclaimed. He brought it to the counter and began to dice it. “So, any updates on our bearded friend?”

  “I haven’t heard anything from Cynthia,” Nathan said, as he put a pan on the stovetop and added a spoonful of lard.

  “It must have been quite a shock for Emiko, stumbling across a mysterious stranger like that,” said Pierre.

  “No, she took it in stride,” Nathan said. “Actually, I think she saw it as a chance to escape a scolding. She found him after staying out all night in the woods.”

  “Is that right?” Pierre said. “Sounds like she’s growing up.” He walked over to Nathan and tossed the diced onion into the melted lard, now sizzling in the pan that Nathan was tending to.

  “If she’s growing up, why is she getting harder to deal with?” Nathan asked.

  Pierre shrugged his shoulders. “You’d know better than me — I haven’t been her age in over 60 years!” he said as he cracked the eggs and let their contents fall into a small porcelain bowl.

  Nathan thought back through the last few years. He couldn’t recall ever going through a rebellious phase like the one his sister was in now. Between chores and keeping food on the table, he had never had time to disobey his father.

  “It’s because I’m not doing a good job of looking out for her, isn’t it?” Nathan asked, frowning as he watched the onions slowly soften and turn brown.

  “Hey now,” Pierre said, setting down the eggs he was whisking. “That couldn’t be further from the truth. Look, I’m sure Emiko would have given your father just as much trouble as she’s giving you.”

  “You think so?” Nathan wondered aloud.

  “Think so? I know so. Let me tell you, when your father complained about one of his children, nine times out of ten it was Emiko. And boy, did she give him fits.”

  “Really?” Nathan looked at Pierre doubtfully. He couldn’t picture his father complaining about either of them. In his mind’s eye, their father was always unwaveringly firm — equal parts caring and stern.

  “Sure. He was amazed at how different you two are,” Pierre said. “There was Nathan, the obedient son, and Emiko, the wild child. Er, don’t tell her I said that.”

  Nathan smiled. “Don’t worry — your secret’s safe with me,” he said. “But that doesn’t help me. I need to know how my dad would’ve handled Emiko.”

  “He’d probably do the same thing you’re doing. Do you think he could have stopped Emiko from staying out in the woods through the night?”

  Nathan thought for a moment, then shook his head.

  “No, I guess not. He’d probably stay up all night and scold her when she finally got home.” Just like I do, Nathan thought.

  “Well, there you have it.” Pierre smiled as he poured the whisked eggs over the onion. The raw eggs hissed as they spread across the hot pan. “Unfortunately, that burden falls on you now. Remember though, you’re not alone. I can help — as can the other members of our fine community.”

  “Thanks, Pierre.” Nathan nodded weakly. Talking with Pierre was reassuring, yet he still felt uncomfortable. Maybe I just need to let Emiko have a bit more space, he thought. However, as much as his sister would like to think otherwise, the woods were dangerous, and Nathan wasn’t confident that he was doing enough to keep her out of harm’s way.

  ***

  Emiko heard somet
hing rustle nearby and awoke with a start. Her heart throbbed — each beat pulsating through her ears. Instinctively, she felt behind her head. Her rifle was still there, undisturbed. She swung it around her body and rested it in her lap. The rustling had stopped … probably just a rodent or a bird hopping through the underbrush.

  How long had she been asleep? Judging from the sun, it was still well before noon. She turned and peeked out above the log. The brook was still there, of course, but a fully matured bull moose, complete with a wide rack of curving antlers, now stood beside it. Spotting a moose wasn’t unusual — the burly creatures roamed freely through the woodlands near Frontier View. In fact, sometimes they even passed right through town early in the morning.

  Unfortunately, despite Nathan’s squawking about how she should bring home more meat, she couldn’t justify shooting at the big animal. The bulky carcass would give her trouble — a moose could outweigh her by over 1,000 pounds. More importantly, a .22 rifle wasn’t suited for big game hunting — it lacked stopping power. Now, if Nathan would give her a real gun …

  A small object, hanging from a birch tree near the moose caught her eye — a wasp nest. Emiko smirked. If the forest was going to tease her with big game, she’d have to taunt right back. She lifted her gun, resting the barrel on the log. Taking her time, Emiko leveled her sights on the nest, aiming at the top where it connected to the tree.

  The moose bent its neck downward to enjoy a drink of fresh stream water. Emiko felt a twinge of guilt at disturbing it, but not enough to stand down. She pulled the trigger and the bullet rang out. The wasp nest broke from the tree and it fell straight down, hitting the ground by the moose’s feet.

  Unnerved by the gunfire, the moose pulled its mouth from the water, looking out to see where the sound had come from. Then it noticed the angry wasps swarming at its feet. Immediately, it took off, away from the stream and back into the thick of the trees. Emiko snickered, watching as the swarm of wasps grew and chased after the moose. She was lucky the little insects didn’t know who’d really knocked down their nest and she intended to keep it that way. Once again, she ducked behind the cover of the log.