Eight
It was only a few
days later when, with the aid of the cane that White Thunder had
fashioned for her, Sarah struggled up onto her feet and slowly,
with one foot placed carefully after another, began to walk. Soon,
within a matter of days, she was walking without aid. And though
her muscles still spasmed with pain now and again, neither she nor
White Thunder had dared to repeat the deep massage.
True to his word,
White Thunder had concocted many meals’ worth of bone broth soups.
As he offered the soup to her, along with the other foods he had in
store, gradually the muscle contractions in her legs
lessened.
It was liberating,
she discovered, to be able to amble about again, and she realized a
limited truth: Lack of movement created, to a greater or lesser
degree, a sort of enslavement. Certainly it made one dependent on
the goodwill of another.
Within days, Sarah
could leave the cave on her own and though at first she was
reluctant to venture too far, eventually she conquered her fear and
strolled out farther and farther into the woods. As she became
stronger, she realized that for all practical purposes she would be
able to leave this place soon. Not yet, if only because her legs
wouldn’t always obey her every command. But soon.
Where would she go?
she wondered. What would she do? The worry hung over her like a
dark cloud, since, to date, her past life still remained a mystery
to her.
One factor had
changed recently, however. It had started to rain, which was
causing Sarah to stay close to the cave out of necessity. Along
with the downpours came a coldness that had settled over the land.
Even the autumn leaves, so bright only weeks ago, now hung dismally
under an often-gray and threatening sky.
It happened late one
afternoon, suddenly and without warning. One moment Sarah had been
safe and warm in the cave, the next she had ventured out of it only
to come face to face with a bear: a big, fully grown black
bear.
Sarah
froze.
The bear growled,
stood up onto its hind legs and pawed at the air. Sarah was dwarfed
by it. It howled again, the sound terrorizing. All at once,
adrenaline and fear washed through her.
She remained frozen
to the spot. Though the bear made no forward movement, it was close
enough that the very air around her became scented with the
animal.
Suddenly something
changed and the bear came down on all fours and started toward
her.
Sarah
screamed.
Stunned at the noise,
the bear stopped, and looking right and left, it pawed at the
ground. Finally, bringing its attention back to her, the bear
slowly, carefully, closed the distance between them.
“Put your arms up
over your head and growl!” It was White Thunder. “Do it!
Now!”
She did as White
Thunder ordered. Raising her hands over her head, she opened her
mouth and snarled at the bear.
As before, the bear
stopped, sniffed at the air, gave her a cautious look, but plodded
forward.
“Keep growling!
Louder! Make your voice more savage!” ordered White Thunder, who
was crouched atop a high ground next to the cave. “He’s tired and
looking for a place to sleep. He may decide that you’re too much
for him. Keep growling.”
Adrenaline pumped
through her as, following White Thunder’s orders, she mustered up
her loudest voice, as well as what she hoped was her most
ferocious-looking face.
Again the bear
hesitated, but hearing White Thunder, the bear finally took notice
of him. Sensing that he was the greater danger of the two, it came
up onto his hind legs and growled at White Thunder, as though
warning him away from his find.
When White Thunder
did nothing but stare back at the bear and snarl at it, the bear
came down again to all fours, and ignoring White Thunder for the
moment, turned back to continue its path toward Sarah, as though by
deed to say that she was the least likely to give him
problems.
Step by step, the
bear progressed dangerously close. All at once it rose again to its
hind legs and roared at her, this time extending its sharp paws
outward. Only one thought surfaced: She was dead. She was dinner.
Never had the desire to own and have a gun in her hand been more
prevalent than it was at this moment.
Suddenly White
Thunder shot straight in front of her, placing himself directly
between her and the bear. And if the bear was roaring and kicking
up a fine noise, so, too, was White Thunder. Indeed, so loud was it
that Sarah could hardly tell what was man and what was
beast.
Then White Thunder
did what was either the most courageous act she had ever
witnessed—or the most reckless. He bent forward, sticking his face
into the bear’s, which was only a few feet away, and he snarled and
snapped as though he were the more dangerous creature.
The animal yowled
right back at White Thunder, and so shrill was it, Sarah thought
her eardrums might never mend. Then suddenly, White Thunder was
yelling directions at her.
“Make
noise!”
Without delay, Sarah
screamed and clapped her hands.
“Now we back up,” he
shouted at her, “so as to tell him we give him the cave. We are no
threat. Slowly, we back up, all the while we make as much noise as
possible.”
Though White Thunder
was holding his gun pointed directly at the bear, Sarah knew it
wouldn’t be protection enough against a head-on attack. After all,
the musket had only one shot, the next shot requiring priming and
reloading.
He took a step back.
Sarah followed suit. Another step back, another and
another.
The bear came down
onto all fours again. It roared so loudly, Sarah wanted to run for
cover. But it was impossible.
“If he starts toward
us,” yelled White Thunder, “and paws at me, you are to turn and
run—do you understand? Run downhill. A bear cannot easily follow if
you go downhill. You are to run as fast as you can and don’t look
back!”
“I won’t leave
you!”
“You have no choice!
I give you no choice! If I say run, you are to run! If I am to
fight him, I cannot worry about you!”
Another step back,
another and another.
Suddenly, the bear
chose to take a leap toward them.
“Run!”
Sarah turned to do
exactly as told, but her legs suddenly refused to move. What was
she to do? Even taking painfully slow steps was impossible. It was
as if she were suddenly crippled.
That’s when she
spotted it. There inside the cave. Fire! Weren’t all animals afraid
of fire?
The bear was already
attacking White Thunder. She could hear their struggle, though
because of the fear gripping her, she didn’t dare to look back. But
her legs suddenly responded, and rushing back into the cave, she
was able to pick up several of the sticks that were burning red-hot
at their tips.
Without thinking of
what she was about to do, she rushed out of the cave. Later in
life, she would wonder where her courage and strength had come from
on this day. Until this moment, she’d never been aware of being
particularly brave. She could only thank the good Lord that when
valor was necessary, it was lying dormant within her.
White Thunder was on
the ground, the bear over him. She rushed at the bear with the
fire.
“Shoo! Get out of
here!” Her voice was piercing and loud. She waved the weapon at the
bear and tried to get close enough to light its fur on
fire.
But her attempts did
almost nothing to the beast; its fur was too matted. Startled, the
bear jumped back, allowing White Thunder a moment to bring up his
musket and take careful aim.
BOOM!
White Thunder shot
off a ball aimed straight into the eyeball of the
bear.
It hit.
Still animated, the
bear struggled forward. Had the shot served no purpose? White
Thunder was reloading as fast as was humanly possible, and as she
watched him struggle against time to prime his weapon and reload
it, she wondered, was this it? Was life suddenly over? This
easily?
Memories of her past
instantaneously rushed through her mind. They came with no fanfare,
no bells. Rather, they swamped her. Moments from her past flickered
before her so quickly, she could barely take hold of
them.
Indeed, so
overwhelming was it, she rocked back on her feet.
Meanwhile, the battle
with the bear was coming to a close. The animal took one final step
forward, and fell over, dead.
Sarah watched it in
horror, almost afraid to turn away from it, fearful that it might
only be catching its breath. Even as she looked at it, she
wondered: What damage had it done to White Thunder?
No sooner had the
thought formed within her mind than she was struck with another
truth. She cared for White Thunder. She honestly cared for this
man.
She was breathing
hard and fast, and she could hear White Thunder behind her, doing
the same. At least, she thought, he was still alive.
Though out of breath,
he called out to her, and said, “I told you to leave!”
“I could not do it,
sir!” she cried. “You forget that my legs do not always obey
me.”
At last she turned
toward him. He was on the ground, his shirt torn with claw marks.
There were several gashes on his chest and arms where the bear’s
claws had found their mark. As Sarah caught her breath, she could
only thank the good Lord that, because of the cool weather, White
Thunder had worn a shirt this day.
But his clothing was
blood-soaked, and was becoming more so by the minute.
“Look at what he’s
done to you,” she said as she took several steps toward White
Thunder, and came down on the ground beside him.
“They are scratches,”
he said.
Then White Thunder
did the unthinkable. He opened his arms to her and she went into
them willingly, both of them uncaring that he was bleeding all over
her.
“You saved my life,”
she whispered.
“As you did
mine.”
“You came to my
defense. You jumped in front of me and confronted the beast
head-on.”
“Of course I did. Did
you expect me to leave you to fight a bear on your
own?”
“I didn’t expect
anything, sir. I … I thank you.” She paused significantly. Then a
little shyly, she added, “I think also that my mistress will thank
you as soon as I manage to find her again.”
He pushed her back
from him and stared at her.
Tears were streaming
down Sarah’s cheeks as she said, “It’s true. I have remembered my
past life and who I am. It happened suddenly. I remembered
everything.”
“This is good.” He
was smiling.
“Yes, it is very
good. I will tell you more about it later. But come, you are hurt
and first I must do something about that.”
“I think I will need
little attention. They are only scrapes,” he
reiterated.
Sarah drew back to
look at him. “I will be the judge of that. Come.”
Placing her arms
about him, she helped him to his feet, taking a great deal of his
weight upon her. Together they limped into the cave.
Using a piece of her
torn-off petticoat that had been soaked in water, Sarah washed the
blood from White Thunder’s arms and chest wounds. There was
something very intimate about sitting with White Thunder as he
reclined on his own bedding. But she ignored the feeling. She asked
him, “Why did the bear not back down? Did he not understand that we
were retreating?”
“He was threatened by
me, and a bear’s temper is bad even in the best of circumstances.
He must have been hungry, too, for he dared much to come after you.
So even though we were retreating, he could not pass up the
opportunity to place his brand upon me and at the same time have a
tasty dinner.”
“Place his brand on
you? ” She paused to look up at him in open astonishment. “He was
trying to kill you.”
“And he might have
done so had you not rushed in upon him and startled him into
backing away.”
“He did not back
away, sir.”
“No, but he was
frightened enough to pause, giving me time to aim a
shot.”
“Yes,” Sarah said as
she resumed her work over him. “Thank the Lord you are a good
shot.”
“Do not thank the
Lord. Thank my uncles and my father, who taught me to
shoot.”
“Aye, I shall do so.
I will send them my praises, and the Lord, too, thank you very
much.”
He grinned at her,
then winced as she dabbed at a deeper cut on his arm.
She frowned. “You
will need stitches there, sir, at least on this one cut that is
deeper than the rest.”
He gazed down at the
open wound on his arm. “Do you know how to do it?”
She shrugged. “I saw
a doctor do it once. I think I might be able to sew it together, if
I can find the right material to use as thread.”
“Sinew from the deer
can be used once my wound is cleaned, and a piece of bone might be
made into a point so as to poke holes in the skin to pull the
thread through. Did you spit on it?”
“I beg your pardon?
”
“Did you spit on the
wounds? ”
“Of course not, I
know better than to—”
Bending over double,
he spit onto the wounds himself, leaving Sarah to watch, gaping.
She said, “There are germs in your mouth, sir.”
He grinned at her.
“Nyoh, and there are other good things
there, too.”
Sarah shook her head,
but held her tongue.
He was frowning. “I
doubt that we have the right roots and herbs to put on the wound to
prevent infection,” he went on to say, “but there is water near
here and it can be boiled and placed on the wound to speed its
healing. The water is perhaps a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet
from us here in the cave, but it is downhill from this place, and
it is in the complete dark.” He looked at her sheepishly. “I fear I
may not possess the strength to take the path to the
water.”
“I can do
it.”
“Good, but bring a
good fire stick with you when you go there. You will need light to
find the stream.”
“And what shall I
collect the water in? ”
“I have several bags,
there by the fire.” He nodded in the direction indicated. “They
should do. There is also a large, hollowed-out rock that can be
used to gather water, if you need it. Take more than one of the
fire sticks with you when you go there, not simply one. Do not let
the fire go out. If it looks as if the fire is dying, return here
while there is still light by it. Once blackness falls, it is
complete and there is no way to tell where you are. You could get
lost. Do you understand? ”
“Aye, I
do.”
He breathed in deeply
and settled back on his own bedding of pine boughs and blanket. “I
will reload the gun while you are gone.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Please do.”
He smiled at her.
“Are you a good cook?”
“Yes, sir, I am—in
the right circumstances.”
“That is good,” he
said, “for I believe your skills will be needed while I
recover.”
“I’ll do my best,
sir.”
He stared at her a
moment. “If you have any trouble at the stream, signal me by a cry,
high-pitched and loud. I will rouse myself and come and help
you.”
“Very well, but I
think I can manage.”
“Yes. We will talk
when you return. After all, I would like to hear what it is that
you have remembered.”
“Aye,” she said as
she stood to her feet. “It is important, I think, although it seems
to me that there are still pieces of the puzzle that I haven’t
recalled yet.”
“Then we should
discuss it. When you return here from the underground stream, I
will listen while you talk.”
She nodded, and
rising up, she made her way to the underground stream. It was not
an easy task, considering that she was carrying three bags, one
heavy hollowed-out stone and three different fire
sticks.
Even collecting the
water proved to be almost impossible, since she dare not let the
fire on the sticks go out. In the end she made several trips from
their camp to the stream and back. But her problems were only
beginning.
What in the good
Lord’s name was she going to use to boil this water? In the end,
she did finally discover the smoked and toughened rawhide bags that
White Thunder used to make soup. They were ingenious, actually.
When she heated stones and threw them into the liquid, it was as
good as boiling the water over a fire.
It was not the
easiest way to go about things, but at least they would be able to
eat. It could be worse, she decided. They were alive. Indeed, she
thought as a shiver ran down her spine, their situation could be
very much worse.
Straightening her
shoulders, she set about locating the sinew that White Thunder had
mentioned. With both it and a knife—well prepared, she would be
able to perform the necessary surgery to his arm.
Hopefully her hand
would be steady.