by D. I. Telbat
Alone on the plain, I knelt and listened to the SUV reach its cruising speed as it rumbled away from me. I bit my lip nervously as it bounced over the ruts of the new Chinese road. But I'd left the SUV's lights off, so it crossed the road and continued east without drawing attention from the few vehicles I could see to the north and south. Soon, the SUV was too far away for me to see. Standing, I sighed with relief. This wasn't missionary work by any means, but the deaths of those men—I couldn't have controlled that. God had saved me and Zima from death that night. His protection and safe-keeping confirmed yet again that He had more for me to do.
When I arrived back at camp, I dumped all the ration packets from my coat onto the ground in front of the fire. Gan-gaad and Dusbhan were still fast asleep as Zima and I heated up a couple rice and chicken meals. Zima giggled as she tasted the contents.
"This is pretty good!"
"Well, it's not cheese and venison," I said with a chuckle, "so it has to taste all right."
"The soldiers probably complain about this food all the time," she said with a mouthful, "but it's a banquet to us." She suddenly stopped chewing. "What did you do with the vehicle?"
"It'll be halfway across the Gobi before it runs out of fuel." I nodded at the sleeping men. "What should we do about those two?"
"We obviously can't leave them behind, Pond. They haven't fended too well on their own. Look at them. All three camps have room for them, but Gan-gaad hates Kazakhs."
"I think he'll humble himself for the winter, at least. South Camp could use Dusbhan's knowledge of this area. He'll be back to his usual self in a few days. But we'd better take Gan-gaad into our camp, because I don't think anyone else could handle him."
"And you can?"
"As my guest, he'll mind himself and work, or he won't eat."
"That should sound familiar to him," Zima said, laughing.
"So, is that okay with you?" I asked, taking her hand in mine. "He and Sembuuk can have the third ger to themselves."
"Yes." She nodded. "I think Gan-gaad will learn to respect Sembuuk. He likes hunting, too. Just keep him away from me and don't let him take charge. You know he has a way of ruining morale by intimidation. Those are my only two suggestions."
I nodded in understanding.
"Right. Okay. It might just be a matter of finding something he can offer to the camps."
"Oh, he does! Gan-gaad is probably more knowledgeable than Kandal when it comes to the old ways, but he's usually too busy ordering people around to put his skills to work. I think he'll find his place."
"Or he won't eat," I said sternly.
We both laughed, but I thought, how the proud do fall!
#######
"What? Where's my gun?" Gan-gaad cried as soon as he awoke the next morning. He struggled to his feet with Dusbhan next to him. "Pond! Our weapons! They're gone!"
Zima and I tightened the cinches on our saddles. We'd already packed the ger and gear.
"Have you seen the sky?" I looked upward. "There's no blue. It's certain to snow today."
Pouting, Gan-gaad did look toward the sky, but his eyes stopped midway up the nearest tree.
"Pond!" He pointed at their two rifles resting securely thirty feet up where I'd hurled them onto wide branches. "Our guns!" He searched the ground for something to throw and knock them down.
Dusbhan, always more level-headed and thoughtful, stepped toward me.
"We need those weapons, Pond. What if we come upon more Chinese?"
"I would say the chances of that happening are pretty good," I said almost too cheerily, "especially if we stay here."
"Where do you propose we go?"
Behind him, Gan-gaad was cursing at the tree, and throwing sticks. Better at the tree than at me, I thought.
"About a day's ride to the north, we have three camps. You'll both be welcome there. If we leave this place behind, we might make it through the winter."
I handed Dusbhan the reins to my horse.
"And the Chinese?" he asked.
"We'll do our best to avoid them. But, in matters I can't do anything about, I trust God. I'd say—"
"God!" Gan-gaad interrupted. "Who saved you last night? I say we stay here! We need those guns! God? Hah! The saints, the Bible, your God . . ." He spat on the ground. "There's your God!"
Before I could stop her, Zima moved past me and slapped Gan-gaad hard across the mouth, startling more than hurting him. He stepped back, his hand on his face, and tripped over his sitting log. The clansman stared up in shock at Zima, as if to say, the nerve of such a woman!
I rubbed my brow, barely withholding a smile.
"Zima," I said quietly, "that isn't helping matters."
"You heard what he said!" Pointing at him, she spat onto his legs. "That's what you are, Gan-gaad! Spittle!" She turned back to me. "I'm already tired of him, Pond! Put him where you put the soldiers last night!"
Dusbhan's mouth dropped. He didn't seem to know who to cheer for. Gan-gaad rolled to his feet, fury on his face. When he reached for Zima, I held him back easily. I'd put on a good ten pounds of muscle since he'd seen me last. Though he still outweighed me, he wasn't all muscle, by any means.
"Just a minute!" I shouted. "Zima, please. Gan-gaad, first of all, Zima and I are married now. Luyant is dead. She's my wife. You want to touch her, you have to touch me first. Second of all, unlike you two, we have horses and gear. I'm assuming you ate your own horses long ago. These horses belong to the clan we came from. And in that clan, we have no guns because they'd only attract conflict. The Chinese know us up there as peaceable people. If you want to carry a weapon, you're welcome to stay behind and climb that tree, but you'll get none of my assistance. Thirdly, when I first came into your clan, I did as I was told, and I honored you. Because I worked, I ate, and not once have you seen me as a lazy man. Now, you've come into a new clan, my clan, so to speak, and you need my help. Gladly, I'll assist you if you follow my rules, the rules of my clan—your clan, your rules; my clan, my rules. Period!"
His chest swelled with a deep breath and clenched teeth.
"For five generations," he said, "no one has ever spoken to me as—"
"Quiet!" I said. "I'm through arguing with you. You're not in charge, Gan-gaad. Fall in line or stay behind. It's your choice. But we're leaving. Zima, lead the way on the western side of the forest. I saw a trail there. We'll avoid the plain today. Dusbhan, you follow her by leading my horse, and I'll walk the first leg."
I offered Gan-gaad the reins of the final riding horse. The fourth horse was piled high with the gear that wasn't riddled with bullets. Zima and Dusbhan headed their horses west. Gan-gaad and I were alone.
"Your clan is gone, Gan-gaad," I said gentler. "Many others have died as well. I won't put up with your fury while the rest of us work together to help each other survive. If you accept this horse, you accept it as an equal to me and the others you'll be joining. Luyant whipped you a time or two, I know, and you know I whipped Luyant that first day we met. Now, I shouldn't need to threaten an older man, but I will surely take my belt and whip you like a child if you can't keep your temper in check."
He gritted his teeth and glared at me. Slowly, his demeanor softened and he reached out and took the reins.
"So, Zima is your wife now?"
"That's right."
"And you have your own clan?"
We started on foot after the others. Dusbhan led my horse with the gear heaped so high on it that I couldn't see Zima or Dusbhan.
"It's not only my clan; it's all of ours."
"How big is it?"
"About twenty people between three camps. We keep the camps small so we're more manageable and not so visible."
"And you're killing the horses to eat?"
"South Camp killed one, but we have a good hunter. We shouldn't have to kill any more, but some might think we need to."
"What's your hunter's name?"
"Sembuuk. He's a good man in our camp. You and he will share a ger."
"You have gers?"
"Oh, yes. Every camp has at least three. Dusbhan will probably go to South Camp. They need an extra hand with firewood."
After a short distance, we caught up to Dusbhan and Zima, then Gan-gaad mounted his aduu. Zima and I took turns explaining how the three camps were run, and the morning faded into afternoon. It had been a short honeymoon, but Zima and I were both ready to get back to camp. We'd enjoyed the previous evening in front of the fire, and that would have to be the extent of our private time for now.
#######
"Kazakhs?" Gan-gaad recognized the people as we rode into camp that night.
North Camp had heard us approaching, alerted by Lucky Hunter's low growls, and had run out to greet us. Gan-gaad and Dusbhan saw the style of dels and heard their Turkic accents and knew immediately this was a Kazakh camp. Dusbhan turned around on his horse to see how his uncle would react. Gan-gaad was white-faced and rigid in his saddle.
"You set me up, Pond," Gan-gaad said.
"Yes, I suppose I did," I said, and patted Bolor on the back as he joined us. "But I know you'll be civil. If you want to live."
He didn't respond as Sembuuk and Kandal came alongside and escorted us into camp, helping us with our burdens and shoving wooden containers into our hands to drink.
Dusbhan and Gan-gaad were welcomed with more familiarity than they were used to. Gan-gaad smiled and shook hands uneasily. It was obvious he was Mongolian and these were Kazakhs. The two didn't normally mix, but here they were. What else could he do? He seemed to relax after a few minutes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the ex-clan leader shrug and pat Lucky Hunter on the head. Zima smiled at me from across camp and I nodded and smiled back at her. I scooped Manai into my arms as he rattled off a dozen questions about our adventure.
That night, after a feast among friends, I stretched and said I was going to go water the horses. I caught Kandal's eye, the signal was passed to Sembuuk, and the three of us excused ourselves. As I was leaving camp, I glanced back to see Beveg and Manai paging through Pilgrim's Progress with Dusbhan. But the part that amazed me was that Gan-gaad stood over them all, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked over their shoulders at the exciting, colorful pages.
"In Your time, Lord," I said, praying for patience.
Gan-gaad was a relatively captive audience for the much more open-minded Kazakhs. But even his stubbornness wasn't impervious to their sense of togetherness.
At the pool, I broke a thin layer of ice with my boot and moved aside so the horses could drink. Kandal and Sembuuk joined me and I relayed the specifics of our trip south and the details of our confrontation with the Chinese.
"I agree," Kandal said thoughtfully. "They're scouring the forest, looking for potential rebels, killing everyone they find in the woods."
"Any chance these two new guys are the ones with the radio the Chinese are looking for?" Sembuuk asked.
"No, not these two. Gan-gaad despises all outsiders equally," I said. "He wouldn't help anyone else gain an advantage over the Chinese. Besides, neither of them have the knowledge to operate a transmitter. And the state in which they came to us—they're still half-starved." I nodded at Kandal. "Now, I think it's time you tell us what you know before the Chinese kill us all."
"Maybe," Kandal said slowly, "I know who has the radio, but only maybe. Would it matter if I knew? Will the Chinese still seek to purge the forest of rebels?"
"And what about those soldiers you buried?" Sembuuk asked. "Maybe we should all be fighting the Chinese."
Turning away from the men for a moment, I groaned under by breath. Lord, what am I missing? I need Your help here, Your wisdom. I faced the men again.
"There was a time when I would've been the first to lead us against the invaders. If you want to fight them, I can't stop you. Zima and I see greater issues to face. As followers of Jesus Christ, we don't war against flesh and blood; we war against spiritual wickedness and the darkness of the heart. These are my priorities." Suddenly, the answer came to me. "What about Duulgii?"
Sembuuk and I studied Kandal's worried face.
"We mustn't jump to conclusions," Kandal said.
"The day of the massacre," I said, "Duulgii and one other rider escaped with us here. At the time, I thought it was strange neither man had bothered to rescue anyone else but themselves as we all ran from the camp. But they'd taken time to collect their packs."
"What kind of packs?" Sembuuk asked. "I barely had time to get a horse and the girl that's now at Middle Camp."
"Duulgii's was square-shaped." I showed the dimensions with my hands. "What could that be?"
"Too small to be a stove," Kembuuk said. "Blankets or bags of supplies wouldn't be shaped like that. But I've never seen Duulgii with a radio. He's half-Russian, though. He would have a motive to help the Russians against the Chinese."
"Kandal? What do you think?"
The old man sighed.
"I've seen the radio. Duulgii and the man you saw riding with him were both paramilitary in Kazakhstan. The other man joined us just a week before you did, Pond."
"Do you know where they are?" Sembuuk asked, impatiently. "I can't believe you would withhold this from us! This isn't something to keep secret! It endangers us all!"
"Well, I had my reasons!" Kandal shouted back. "I couldn't implicate Lugsalkhaan's brother-in-law. It wouldn't have been good for the clan. Lugsalkhaan could still be alive. He may have been among those who fled east, maybe meeting up with another clan."
"Lugsalkhaan is dead," Sembuuk mumbled. "He died that first day. Andy buried him in secret to keep his name alive."
Kandal glared at both of us in turn.
"Look who speaks of keeping things secret! How dare you speak to me as a pup, Sembuuk! I would die for this clan, and for Lugsalkhaan!" He lowered his voice. "We were like father and son. Where is he buried?"
I told him, and we were silent for a moment.
"Duulgii must be hiding nearby," I said. "You may care for what's left of this clan, Kandal, but Duulgii doesn't. It's not his clan. He married into it. And now he's using the clan for cover to mask his mischief. If there was any honor in him, any loyalty, he wouldn't be endangering us."
"And you propose we turn him over to the Chinese?" Kandal asked. "This isn't your clan, either, Pond. What do you care?"
"If tears and sweat and blood and sleepless nights could make a man a clan member, then this is my clan as much as anyone's," I said. "As for what to do with Duulgii, we can only reason with him. Maybe he'll go north or south and not draw us into his conflict any longer."
The rumble of military jets could be heard high overhead. The war continued in the north.
"I've seen no sign on the ground of Duulgii or anyone else nearby," Sembuuk said. "Every time I hunt, I watch for sign."
"He must be in the mountains, then," I said, "somewhere to the west."
"That's difficult terrain," Kandal said. "We're people of the steppes."
"The mountains aren't strange to the Mongolians, though," I said. "Every autumn, they hunt this area as they migrate south. I know they were going into the higher elevations because they were preparing snowshoes."
"The new man?" Kandal asked. "Gan-gaad?"
"Yes," I said, nodding, "and his nephew, Dusbhan."
"But they nearly died on their own, you said," Sembuuk said.
"They were fighting the cold, looking for food and shelter, and hunting the Chinese all at once," I said. "Anyone would work himself to death at that rate. Let me go with them into the mountains tomorrow and find Duulgii's camp. I've met him, but I know him only well enough to ask him to meet with you and some of the others. If he will, maybe you can convince him to go elsewhere. It may be time to bring this up at the Three Rocks meeting in the morning to see what the others think of it all."
"I'll go to Three Rocks tomorrow," Kandal said, "but you find Duulgii, anyway. The others will see it our way."
"And be careful," Sembuuk said. "I'm sure
Duulgii will be armed."
*~*
Chapter 24
The next morning, there was a slight change in plans. South Camp felt they were behind in their winter fortifications, so Dusbhan went to them without delay, and I knew he wouldn't disappoint them. Dusbhan was a hard worker and stronger than most men his size. Though he'd killed the Chinese soldiers recently, I was anxious to discuss the Bible with him again as we had in the past. Looking forward to that time, I gave him another Bible to take with him to South Camp that morning, and invited him to the service that North Camp was to host on Sunday morning. Earlier, I'd spoken with the others about a meeting, and regardless of the cold, they saw it as an opportunity to congregate—and didn't seem opposed to the stories I might share during the time. But I'd planned to share with them the most important story of all—the story of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection.
So with Dusbhan off to South Camp, Bolor widening the corral, and Sembuuk hunting with Manai, Gan-gaad and I mounted up and rode west.
"I needed this escape, Pond," Gan-gaad said. "Zima has had me doing women's chores all morning. Can you imagine? Zima giving me orders!"
"She knows what needs to be done," I said. "I hope you helped."
"Yes, I did, because her arm is still in that cursed cast. I hate milking mares, Pond. Hate it! But I knew if I didn't, since she's your wife now, she would tell you."
"You'll do well here, Gan-gaad," I said. "The beautiful thing about these people is that whatever work must be done, they do it for everyone without complaining."
"But I'm a complainer, Pond. You know that and you flatter me to say I'll do well here. Their airag isn't strong enough. The tea is too strong. And Sembuuk snores too loudly. I think you put me in his ger because no one else can sleep near him!"
"We can still hear him in the next ger, too, Gan-gaad," I said, laughing.
Two hours later, we dismounted our horses and crawled to the edge of the highest ridge of the mountain behind our camp. The mountains stretched out to the west—jagged peaks among rugged gorges and treacherous walls of rock. The view wasn't without its color of green, though. Large patches of forest clung to the mountainsides, obscuring hidden valleys and canyons. It took Gan-gaad a few minutes to familiarize himself with our coordinates, then he pointed out landmarks.