Into the Wilderness
Page 155
She felt him watching her, and was not surprised to have him read her thoughts.
"I don't like it much either, Boots, but we have to eat. And we'll be moving fast once we leave here. When he goes it will be quiet, you can be sure of that—he just won't wake up."
"He shouldn't be alone," she said more to herself than to Nathaniel, and he nodded his approval.
By late morning Joe had begun to come out of his sleep; she could tell by the twitching of his face and hands. While she sat next to him mending a rent in her leggings, he started awake, his whole body jerking, and then he reached involuntarily toward his ruined arm and cried out, a terrible sound.
"Shhh." Elizabeth stood, and sat again, and stood, one hand to her mouth, wondering what she could do. "Shhh," she repeated, and then something came to her from a school lesson long ago, learned over her books at Oakmere. She leaned in close to Joe, trying to ignore the smells rising from him, and crooned. "Schlaf Kindlein, schlaf." Sleep, little one, sleep."
When he looked up at her his face was quieter; he seemed to be looking beyond her. "Nobody could mistake me for a child, Miz Elizabeth," he said clearly.
She sat down heavily, wiping her own forehead with a trembling hand.
"You thought I was out of my head."
"I thought you were disoriented."
He grunted. "Same difference. Is there water?"
"Of course," she said, flustered. When he had drunk, she sat with the bowl in her hands, not knowing what to say.
"You got that bijou I gave you?"
She produced it from around her neck; she had strung it there on the long silver chain with the silver and pearl pendant Nathaniel had given her, afraid that otherwise she might lose it.
"What is it?" she asked, curious. In the light the center stone had proved to be an opal, milky white except when the sun touched it, and then blazing in beautiful pearl tones.
"Made of wood from the fever tree," Joe explained, reaching for it. She put it in his hand. "Come all the way from Africa with my mama." He glanced at her, and then shook his head. "She hid it under her tongue all that time, thinking she would need good medicine on this side of the world where the devils roam. Trouble was, she didn't have enough medicine for all of 'em."
Suddenly he began to cough, a great raking cough that came up deep from his belly and convulsed him in pain. When it had passed, he fell back against the cot.
"In my lungs," he said. "Don't expect it'll be much longer now."
"I have some gruel," Elizabeth offered, wishing for the ability to provide some other, some real comfort. "Would you like that?"
He blinked at her slowly. "Thank you kindly," he said, already more than half asleep.
* * *
Nathaniel returned in mid—afternoon with three rabbits, two grouse, and a wild turkey, which he set to cleaning immediately in the hope that there would be time to smoke some of the meat to carry away. He moved fast and worked neatly, and when Elizabeth stopped to talk to him he was as pleasant and easy as ever, but he was worried. She could see it in the way the muscle in his cheek jumped, when he was quiet and thought her attention elsewhere. She worked with him and they talked of unimportant things, grateful for this quiet time while Joe slept. The weather was warm and Elizabeth began to sweat in the direct sun, but she didn't mind this. It seemed a long time since she had been warm through, and she said this to Nathaniel.
"This is the warmest spring I remember since I was a boy," he said. "That's our good fortune, although it don't seem that way to you right now."
"I didn't mean to complain," Elizabeth said quietly.
Nathaniel sighed. "You ain't complaining, and neither am I," he said. "You're mighty jumpy, Boots." He was cleaning a grouse and looked around him for a place to dispose of the entrails. "Too bad there's no dog," he said. "But I expect a fox will be by for this soon as we turn our backs."
"But there is a dog," Elizabeth said. "Joe's dog, I mean. He was out here when I got up this morning to start the fire."
Nathaniel turned to her, his face puzzled. "I never saw him."
She nodded. "A big red dog. Quite ferocious—looking, but he got up when he saw me and wandered off into the bush."
"Did you ask Joe about him? Or did he say anything, ask about the dog?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "I didn't think to. Is it important?"
Nathaniel shrugged, but he looked thoughtful. "Don't know," he said. "Just strange that he wasn't here when I first come up. Maybe he was off hunting for himself."
"Perhaps," Elizabeth agreed. It occurred to her that any dog of Joe's would have tried to come into the shelter at night, to sleep nearby. She asked Nathaniel if this was true, and he nodded. "That's what I was thinking," he agreed.
While they built up a smoky fire and set the strips of meat to slow—cook over it, Elizabeth thought it through.
"Perhaps it was a stray," she said. "Run off from somebody else."
"Could be."
"I did see a dog," she snapped then, and he raised a brow.
"Hold on, there. I never said you didn't."
"But you're thinking it. You think I imagined the whole thing. Or that it was—that I saw something ... unreal."
"To tell you the truth, I hadn't been thinking along those lines. But you are, Boots. So tell me what's on your mind."
"I don't like it much either, Boots, but we have to eat. And we'll be moving fast once we leave here. When he goes it will be quiet, you can be sure of that—he just won't wake up."
"He shouldn't be alone," she said more to herself than to Nathaniel, and he nodded his approval.
By late morning Joe had begun to come out of his sleep; she could tell by the twitching of his face and hands. While she sat next to him mending a rent in her leggings, he started awake, his whole body jerking, and then he reached involuntarily toward his ruined arm and cried out, a terrible sound.
"Shhh." Elizabeth stood, and sat again, and stood, one hand to her mouth, wondering what she could do. "Shhh," she repeated, and then something came to her from a school lesson long ago, learned over her books at Oakmere. She leaned in close to Joe, trying to ignore the smells rising from him, and crooned. "Schlaf Kindlein, schlaf." Sleep, little one, sleep."
When he looked up at her his face was quieter; he seemed to be looking beyond her. "Nobody could mistake me for a child, Miz Elizabeth," he said clearly.
She sat down heavily, wiping her own forehead with a trembling hand.
"You thought I was out of my head."
"I thought you were disoriented."
He grunted. "Same difference. Is there water?"
"Of course," she said, flustered. When he had drunk, she sat with the bowl in her hands, not knowing what to say.
"You got that bijou I gave you?"
She produced it from around her neck; she had strung it there on the long silver chain with the silver and pearl pendant Nathaniel had given her, afraid that otherwise she might lose it.
"What is it?" she asked, curious. In the light the center stone had proved to be an opal, milky white except when the sun touched it, and then blazing in beautiful pearl tones.
"Made of wood from the fever tree," Joe explained, reaching for it. She put it in his hand. "Come all the way from Africa with my mama." He glanced at her, and then shook his head. "She hid it under her tongue all that time, thinking she would need good medicine on this side of the world where the devils roam. Trouble was, she didn't have enough medicine for all of 'em."
Suddenly he began to cough, a great raking cough that came up deep from his belly and convulsed him in pain. When it had passed, he fell back against the cot.
"In my lungs," he said. "Don't expect it'll be much longer now."
"I have some gruel," Elizabeth offered, wishing for the ability to provide some other, some real comfort. "Would you like that?"
He blinked at her slowly. "Thank you kindly," he said, already more than half asleep.
* * *
Nathaniel returned in mid—afternoon with three rabbits, two grouse, and a wild turkey, which he set to cleaning immediately in the hope that there would be time to smoke some of the meat to carry away. He moved fast and worked neatly, and when Elizabeth stopped to talk to him he was as pleasant and easy as ever, but he was worried. She could see it in the way the muscle in his cheek jumped, when he was quiet and thought her attention elsewhere. She worked with him and they talked of unimportant things, grateful for this quiet time while Joe slept. The weather was warm and Elizabeth began to sweat in the direct sun, but she didn't mind this. It seemed a long time since she had been warm through, and she said this to Nathaniel.
"This is the warmest spring I remember since I was a boy," he said. "That's our good fortune, although it don't seem that way to you right now."
"I didn't mean to complain," Elizabeth said quietly.
Nathaniel sighed. "You ain't complaining, and neither am I," he said. "You're mighty jumpy, Boots." He was cleaning a grouse and looked around him for a place to dispose of the entrails. "Too bad there's no dog," he said. "But I expect a fox will be by for this soon as we turn our backs."
"But there is a dog," Elizabeth said. "Joe's dog, I mean. He was out here when I got up this morning to start the fire."
Nathaniel turned to her, his face puzzled. "I never saw him."
She nodded. "A big red dog. Quite ferocious—looking, but he got up when he saw me and wandered off into the bush."
"Did you ask Joe about him? Or did he say anything, ask about the dog?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "I didn't think to. Is it important?"
Nathaniel shrugged, but he looked thoughtful. "Don't know," he said. "Just strange that he wasn't here when I first come up. Maybe he was off hunting for himself."
"Perhaps," Elizabeth agreed. It occurred to her that any dog of Joe's would have tried to come into the shelter at night, to sleep nearby. She asked Nathaniel if this was true, and he nodded. "That's what I was thinking," he agreed.
While they built up a smoky fire and set the strips of meat to slow—cook over it, Elizabeth thought it through.
"Perhaps it was a stray," she said. "Run off from somebody else."
"Could be."
"I did see a dog," she snapped then, and he raised a brow.
"Hold on, there. I never said you didn't."
"But you're thinking it. You think I imagined the whole thing. Or that it was—that I saw something ... unreal."
"To tell you the truth, I hadn't been thinking along those lines. But you are, Boots. So tell me what's on your mind."
