With the woodshed roof finished--amazing how quickly and efficient a thing can get done when two people are working furiously at it and with tireless focus in a whole-hearted attempt to avoid having to bash in one another’s heads--and no sign of the womenfolk making their return, Bud and Einar stood staring at each other for a moment, Einar fighting to catch his breath and Kilgore, thirsty, wishing very much to go into the cabin and avail himself of the water barrel, but not being entirely sure where he stood with the wild man and thus reluctant to pass him and enter his house. Finally, thirst getting the better of him, he nodded to Einar, stepping into the cool shadows of the cabin. Einar followed, watched him drink before filling his own water carrier from the barrel. Had somehow managed to become badly dehydrated over the past several days of hiking and climbing, and still had a distance to go before he’d be caught up. Could feel it. Kilgore had crouched against the pile of stones that were destined one day to take form as cook stove and heat source for the cabin, was inspecting one of the larger, flatter pieces, turning it over and over in his hands, and Einar, not especially wanting him to begin asking questions again, held out a packet containing the remains of Liz’s last batch of traveling “pudding.”
“Hungry?”
“Getting there. First though, what do you say we slap this stove together real quick? Looks like you’ve got more than enough stones all gathered up here, and it sure would be good to have a finished stove to go with your woodshed.”
“Been meaning to get to it, but one thing or another keeps coming up to interfere, seems like. Guess this time’s as good as any. You ever done dry stone masonry before?”
“Can’t say as I have, but I’m sure you’ll tell me where to put things. Let’s have at it.”
Working with the slow deliberation characteristic of his way when at such tasks and taking solace in the details of the thing, the precision it demanded of him, Einar laid the first row of stove-stones, Kilgore, after a few minutes of observation, beginning to get a feel for what he had in mind and helping out by handing him prospective next stones, replacing them when Einar, more often than not, rejected them for not being precisely the correct fit. Stove had to be as nearly airtight as could be achieved in order to maximize its efficiency--a big deal when heating and cooking up near treeline in the dead of winter--and he knew from his previous work in the bear cave that they could come very close, given the proper attention to detail. An hour passed as they worked, another, and still Susan and Liz had not returned, the work continuing until the stove stood very nearly finished, lacking only its chimney and the large, flat stone that would comprise its top. The one Einar had previously set aside did not, when all was said and done, perform as he had hoped it would, being too thick and not quite wide enough, and he knew he could do better, given a thorough search of the scree pile up behind the cabin. Kilgore, having wanted very much to see the project brought to completion, was a bit disappointed, but did not let on. Knew he’d done a good thing in simply helping bring the stove into being, keeping Einar on task and easing his work a bit by handing him things. A good day.
Their work finished for the time, Einar--himself feeling famished despite having eaten earlier, along with everyone else--once again held the travel pudding out to Kilgore. Bud took the packet, pulled off a small lump of the sweet, soft stuff and chewed thoughtfully. “She surely does do some good cooking, don’t she? You, on the other hand…well, I tasted some of your bear-tummy kimchi, and let me tell ya, you’re probably not gonna be winning any prizes at the county fair with that one. Whew! Doubt they’d even let you in the door, actually, one they got a whiff of the stuff. But I kinda liked it, myself. Had seconds.”
“Want some now? Guess we could spare just a little bit… Liz doesn’t seem to find the stuff very much to her taste…”
“Sure! First experience didn’t kill me, so why not? To tell the truth, I find the stuff kinda pleasant, in an odd, highly fermented sort of way. The bite of it brings up some good memories, the tang...”
“Good ones, huh?”
“Well sure, mostly. Anytime you’d get a chance to sit down and eat, get time to do it…well, that’d be a good time, right?”
“Right.”
“Plus this stuff don’t have so much of that fishy smell, that salty, smoky stinkin’ stench of fish and garlic and rancid, un-evaporated human sweat and human dung, the taste of adrenalin like cold steel in the back of your throat because you know they’re coming, again, know what that means and if you could get out of there you would, wouldn’t you? But you can’t, not the way they’ve got you tied, can’t hardly even breathe, between the position you’re in, the heat and the stifling stench that’s coming up at you, up through the floor…you know which one I mean, don’t you Asmundson? Can probably smell it right now without even trying, can’t you?”
Blowing a great breath of air out through his nose, Einar made a conscious effort to slow his breathing, get ahold of himself and find something in the cabin he might grab onto as he could feel the world going all soft and strange and terrifyingly uncertain around him, something that might remind him of Liz, keep him connected in some way to the reality that he knew was out there, the high, clean air and spruces of his basin, but it wasn’t working. None of it was working. He needed more air, needed it real bad, but forced himself to remain still, voice rough and somewhat unsteady. “I know what you’re trying to do here. It’s not gonna work.”
“Isn’t it? Look at you, sweating, shaking, white as a sheet. Don’t tell me you don’t still think about it from time to time. Maybe lots more times than you’d like, at night sometimes when things get still and quiet and you’re all alone with your thoughts…look, man. You need to look at it. Look it in the eye. Don’t want to but you need to, need to deal with it so you can be here with her more of the time, most of the time, with them when the kid comes, rather than over there. Time to come home, man. Kinda owe them that much, don’t you think? Your family…”
Einar was on his feet, had to get out of the cabin pretty urgently and wanted Bud out, too, indicated as much by shaking his spear in the tracker’s direction and Kilgore got the message, complied. If he’d meant to start Einar reminiscing, talking about things, prod him into getting them out in the open, he had, at least for the moment, apparently failed.
24 March, 2011
23 March, 2011
23 March 2011
Their conversation finished for the time--Kilgore knew when to stop pushing, considered himself fortunate for having been able to go as far as he did without major consequence; he had taken a chance, for sure--the two men left their meeting-seats and wandered around for a bit, Einar hoping he might be able to slip away from Kilgore and spend some time sitting up in the rocks above the cabin, pondering, quiet, but seeing that there was little chance of any such coming to pass. Kilgore was right there with him, seemed disinclined to leave him in peace and was, in fact, suggesting that the two of them work on completing the woodshed. A necessary task; the structure’s half-done state had been troubling Einar for some time, but he did not especially wish to take on such a project just then, not in Kilgore’s presence, for he was, after his brief nap, feeling terribly stiff from the effects of his fall and of the past days’ travels, foot paining him a great deal and his balance not feeling like a thing that ought to be trusted too far. Parts of which he expected would, despite his best efforts be noticeable to the tracker should the two of them end up working together, and he did not want the man to know the extent of his difficulties. Might very well try and take advantage of them in some way, exploit his weaknesses in a further attempt to talk him down off the mountain, and Einar simply didn’t want to contend with such, just then. Didn’t want to hear it. Kilgore was being most persistent, though, had begun dragging timbers over, himself, and leaning them against the woodshed skeleton, so, figuring he had little choice, Einar joined him. Just have to work hard at not letting it show. Not letting anything show. Just focus on the work, and you’ll be fine.
Together they hauled the timbers that Bud and Susan had earlier retrieved, leaning each up against the woodshed frame with Einar stopping frequently to rearrange and adjust the structure as it took form, tightening it up against future leaks and making sure it remained sound. While the leaning timbers would go a long way towards keeping out the weather, Einar still hoped to find and apply a good many aspen bark slabs to the angled walls, knowing that it would be far more successful at shedding rain and later, melting snow. Though Einar worked silently and without giving much notice to his companion--the mere task of remaining on his feet and on the job was demanding all the focus he could muster--Kilgore soon realized his intention in hauling back the occasional slab of bark from one fallen aspen or another, and joined in the effort. By the time they finished leaning poles for the main structure of the roof-walls, the two of them had amassed a good pile of bark, also, and with Kilgore’s help Einar began placing the slabs, starting at the bottom and working his way up so as to keep them shedding water. Large and heavy as the slabs were, Einar doubted they would even need to be secured in place, but Kilgore wasn’t taking any chances, using the tip of his knife to drill pairs of small holes near the tops of some of the shingles and binding them to the frame with bits of cordage. A good plan, Einar had to admit, and one that would likely lead to a longer-lasting roof, especially once the snow began weighing it down.
Guess it’s not all bad having this fella here. Still wish he’d never shown up though. What good is it to have a great woodshed, after all, if you end up having to flee because your guests got themselves followed? Or have to make a planned and deliberate move because your location has been compromised… He shook his head, went at the work of shingling the woodshed roof with a fierce new energy. Had been running over and over the possibilities in his mind, the risks of staying and of going, the compromised security of the place, the lateness of the season, the coming birth, all of it, and nothing was looking too promising, really. Made him mad. Ought to be a better solution, better than either of those two, but if it was out there, he hadn’t yet found it. Which was clearly his fault, likely a function of his lack of sleep as much as anything, an explanation and not an excuse, for he ought to have been able to work through such difficulties, and do what needed to be done. Had always been able to, had often drawn both inspiration and a solid determination from the difficulty of the situation, and the fact that he seemed suddenly unable to summon up the strength and focus to do it yet again disturbed him greatly. Kilgore recognized his struggle, did not know the extent of it but could see that the fugitive was, if nothing else, having quite a time of it just staying on his feet and conscious, and he did his best to be helpful without getting too much in the way. Which helpfulness, Bud seeing Einar reeling and appearing about to fall, took the form just then of a question designed to get his attention, keep him engaged and in the present.
“This woodshed--you plan to fill it, and then what? You’re not thinking that’s gonna be enough, are you?”
“Enough?”
“For the winter.”
“We’re surrounded by wood here, lots of leaning and fallen stuff that’s going to be made inaccessible by the snow, but plenty of standing dead, too. I can be cutting and hauling all winter if I have to, skidding trees over here on the snow for chopping and burning, but yeah, I hope to fill the woodshed ahead of time, give us a little reserve for hard times, for when the little one comes. That, and I’ve already got a bunch of stuff leaning up under the spruces and firs around the cabin here, mostly small dead aspen that I’ve found and hauled in, and I figure to leave it right where it is, most of it. May get a bit challenging to retrieve once the snow gets real deep and I have to be crawling down in all those tree wells and shoving it out and up onto the surface of the snow, but at least I’ll know where it is, and how to get at it. Not too worried about the wood situation.”
“Maybe you’d best get worried. Considering all the things you’ll have to keep up with this winter, you just may not have as much time as you think for felling and skidding trees whenever the firewood supply starts getting a little low. And that’s even if things go as smoothly as possible. Which it seems they don’t always, because wasn’t it just this last winter when you ended up losing a couple toes, then a couple more, over the course of more than two months? That couldn’t have been part of the plan, but I sure bet it changed the plan, lots of plans, slowed things down and looks like it’s still slowing them down, from the looks of you, the way you’re favoring that foot today. Think about it. Better fill this shed, stack more wood up under all the trees around here and then come up with a backup location somewhere real nearby to stack that much, again. If you want the two of you to have a good chance of making it, that is. The three of you… And then fill another shed--be better if it was a raised one, cache-style, to keep out the varmints--with dried meat, fat, berries, all sorts of stuff to help see you through the winter.”
Einar paused in his work, casting a slightly annoyed glance in Kilgore’s direction. “Yep, I know what a winter’s like out here. Done a few, myself.”
“Yeah, you look like it. Want the girl to end up all gaunt and hollow and starved like you are? And the kid? You somehow got her through the first one without too many ill effects it seems, and a healthy young woman like her might survive another winter like that, but the chances don’t seem real good for the kid, not good at all. And if you finish starving yourself trying to make sure they have plenty, well, honorable gesture I guess, but where does that leave them? Abandoned up here in the middle of winter to die, that’s where.”
“I thought we were through talking about this.” It was a statement, not a question, and again Kilgore let the matter drop for the time, returning to work and steering clear of Einar, who was slamming bark chips and slabs into place with a cold fury that told Bud his words had definitely not been wasted on the man, even if he wasn’t yet ready to come out and admit it.
Together they hauled the timbers that Bud and Susan had earlier retrieved, leaning each up against the woodshed frame with Einar stopping frequently to rearrange and adjust the structure as it took form, tightening it up against future leaks and making sure it remained sound. While the leaning timbers would go a long way towards keeping out the weather, Einar still hoped to find and apply a good many aspen bark slabs to the angled walls, knowing that it would be far more successful at shedding rain and later, melting snow. Though Einar worked silently and without giving much notice to his companion--the mere task of remaining on his feet and on the job was demanding all the focus he could muster--Kilgore soon realized his intention in hauling back the occasional slab of bark from one fallen aspen or another, and joined in the effort. By the time they finished leaning poles for the main structure of the roof-walls, the two of them had amassed a good pile of bark, also, and with Kilgore’s help Einar began placing the slabs, starting at the bottom and working his way up so as to keep them shedding water. Large and heavy as the slabs were, Einar doubted they would even need to be secured in place, but Kilgore wasn’t taking any chances, using the tip of his knife to drill pairs of small holes near the tops of some of the shingles and binding them to the frame with bits of cordage. A good plan, Einar had to admit, and one that would likely lead to a longer-lasting roof, especially once the snow began weighing it down.
Guess it’s not all bad having this fella here. Still wish he’d never shown up though. What good is it to have a great woodshed, after all, if you end up having to flee because your guests got themselves followed? Or have to make a planned and deliberate move because your location has been compromised… He shook his head, went at the work of shingling the woodshed roof with a fierce new energy. Had been running over and over the possibilities in his mind, the risks of staying and of going, the compromised security of the place, the lateness of the season, the coming birth, all of it, and nothing was looking too promising, really. Made him mad. Ought to be a better solution, better than either of those two, but if it was out there, he hadn’t yet found it. Which was clearly his fault, likely a function of his lack of sleep as much as anything, an explanation and not an excuse, for he ought to have been able to work through such difficulties, and do what needed to be done. Had always been able to, had often drawn both inspiration and a solid determination from the difficulty of the situation, and the fact that he seemed suddenly unable to summon up the strength and focus to do it yet again disturbed him greatly. Kilgore recognized his struggle, did not know the extent of it but could see that the fugitive was, if nothing else, having quite a time of it just staying on his feet and conscious, and he did his best to be helpful without getting too much in the way. Which helpfulness, Bud seeing Einar reeling and appearing about to fall, took the form just then of a question designed to get his attention, keep him engaged and in the present.
“This woodshed--you plan to fill it, and then what? You’re not thinking that’s gonna be enough, are you?”
“Enough?”
“For the winter.”
“We’re surrounded by wood here, lots of leaning and fallen stuff that’s going to be made inaccessible by the snow, but plenty of standing dead, too. I can be cutting and hauling all winter if I have to, skidding trees over here on the snow for chopping and burning, but yeah, I hope to fill the woodshed ahead of time, give us a little reserve for hard times, for when the little one comes. That, and I’ve already got a bunch of stuff leaning up under the spruces and firs around the cabin here, mostly small dead aspen that I’ve found and hauled in, and I figure to leave it right where it is, most of it. May get a bit challenging to retrieve once the snow gets real deep and I have to be crawling down in all those tree wells and shoving it out and up onto the surface of the snow, but at least I’ll know where it is, and how to get at it. Not too worried about the wood situation.”
“Maybe you’d best get worried. Considering all the things you’ll have to keep up with this winter, you just may not have as much time as you think for felling and skidding trees whenever the firewood supply starts getting a little low. And that’s even if things go as smoothly as possible. Which it seems they don’t always, because wasn’t it just this last winter when you ended up losing a couple toes, then a couple more, over the course of more than two months? That couldn’t have been part of the plan, but I sure bet it changed the plan, lots of plans, slowed things down and looks like it’s still slowing them down, from the looks of you, the way you’re favoring that foot today. Think about it. Better fill this shed, stack more wood up under all the trees around here and then come up with a backup location somewhere real nearby to stack that much, again. If you want the two of you to have a good chance of making it, that is. The three of you… And then fill another shed--be better if it was a raised one, cache-style, to keep out the varmints--with dried meat, fat, berries, all sorts of stuff to help see you through the winter.”
Einar paused in his work, casting a slightly annoyed glance in Kilgore’s direction. “Yep, I know what a winter’s like out here. Done a few, myself.”
“Yeah, you look like it. Want the girl to end up all gaunt and hollow and starved like you are? And the kid? You somehow got her through the first one without too many ill effects it seems, and a healthy young woman like her might survive another winter like that, but the chances don’t seem real good for the kid, not good at all. And if you finish starving yourself trying to make sure they have plenty, well, honorable gesture I guess, but where does that leave them? Abandoned up here in the middle of winter to die, that’s where.”
“I thought we were through talking about this.” It was a statement, not a question, and again Kilgore let the matter drop for the time, returning to work and steering clear of Einar, who was slamming bark chips and slabs into place with a cold fury that told Bud his words had definitely not been wasted on the man, even if he wasn’t yet ready to come out and admit it.
22 March, 2011
22 March 2011
Einar didn’t want to hear it, any of it, did not want to be compelled to spend his reserve of energy--which he sensed was dangerously low at the moment--defending his position to Kilgore, especially seeing as the man had sought him out, had shown up without invitation on his doorstep. Ought to be defending his decision, if anything, explaining the audacity that led him to make that hike and intrude on this place--my place--in the first place. Ha! Einar chuckled silently, eyes remaining deadly still, unreadable. He’s got no need to explain about the audacity. Guess that’s the way he’s always been, just part of what makes him able to do the things he does. Sure don’t like when it’s directed at me and mine, though. Be better if he kept that daring and bluster and such aimed squarely at the enemy, yep, a lot better. But here he is, and seems determined to talk, so guess your only real choices are to take that spear and run him through--or run him off--or sit here and listen. Einar, fortunately for Bud Kilgore, chose the second option. It was a near thing.
Kilgore shifted position on the log that was serving as his seat, not altogether oblivious to the danger he’d been in, but not terribly perturbed by it, either. Such is life. “So, you given this thing any thought, Asmundson?”
“What thing?”
“Our proposals. Any of ’em. All of ’em.”
“Been giving things like that thought for the last couple years, off and on. Always come to the same conclusion.”
“Which is?”
“Can’t risk it. That’s how these things end, Kilgore, and you know it. One little slip-up like that, one contact too many with the outside world, and it’s over. You’ve hunted enough human critters in your time to know that it’s so. Our only safety, our only chance out here, long term…is in total isolation. And you’re spoiling it. You and the lady.”
“Aw hey now, don’t go lumping me in with ‘the outside world.’ I ain’t part of the outside world, I’m just me, and I’m telling ya, we came up here only with incredible care and caution. Nobody followed us.”
“I believe you. But just as a matter of statistical probability, the more frequently we have these contacts, the sooner one of them’s going to get us caught. I’d rather keep those chances down to a manageable level, which means that when I say I don’t want to see you up here again, I sure as heck mean it. Don’t do this again. I’ve got a family to protect now, and you know I’m gonna use whatever means are necessary to do that. Even if they involve you not making the return trip to the valley, one of these times. Be kind of a shame for it to come to that.”
“Well now, yes it would. I’ve come to be fairly fond of this going-on-living business, as it turns out. Wasn’t always that way, but I seem to have got round to a spot where it’s a bit of a priority for me. Ever been there, Asmundson? In that spot? You can be, you know. But that’s for a different conversation. Maybe one we can have before I head out. We were talking about your family for now though, and how you plan to do whatever it takes to defend them. Which I know you mean as sincerely as a thing can be meant, and know you’re qualified to understand just what it may entail, too…but you ever thought of this?”
“Of what?”
“Of the fact that maybe you got to think outside the box a little when it comes to defending them. Got to realize that maybe the best way to do it might involve doing something that’s way outside your comfort zone, just because it makes the most sense--for them. You got to come down off this mountain, man. Got to at least consider it. Your bride’s about to give birth to her first kid here in a couple months, and looking around I don’t even have to tell you that you’re woefully under-equipped for such an occurrence. You got a house without a stove, woodshed without wood and though you do have a start in the area of food and fat, it’s not a real solid one, considering how late in the season it’s getting to be. As for clothes, it don’t appear you even got enough to keep your scrawny self from having to shiver all day long once the weather cools off some more--look at you, even now--unless you’re gonna stay in bed all the time wrapped up in that one bear hide. Got to have more than that, an awful lot more, if you want to make it up here. If you want your family to make it. I know you got antifreeze in your blood and can sit for a week in the snow without eating or drinking or freezing to death if you have to--pretty close, anyway--but bet neither the missus nor the little one have got that skill. At least not yet. Give you time, and you’ll teach ’em, I have no doubt. But if you want time, you got to get the both of them through this winter that’s comin’ up. This thing you’re trying to do here, this winter up near treeline…not even the Utes did this, man! Went down lower, all of ’em, down to sagebrush country where they only had to contend with maybe six, eight feet of snow instead of thirty, where the mountains gave some sort of shelter against the wind, you know that, right? Transitory folks, migratory. And it worked for them. That’s all I’m asking you think about doing--migrating! Nothing to say you can’t come back up here whenever you want, sometime after the little one comes, grows a little, maybe when the snow starts melting out…this place’ll still be here.”
“And look, you may not know it, but I’ve got the feds in my pocket, down there. They came to me, all but begged me to sign up for the search and are looking pretty desperately for ideas on where to turn, how to see some progress in this thing. For the moment at least, they’re tending to go where my reports direct them. I go fly around with Roger, get a feel for the land, look for tracks and sign that appears out of place--that’s what they think I’m doing, anyway--and away they go. Don’t you see the potential in that? Not only can we kinda steer them around your current location, but we could use those routine flights as a cover for a supply drop, drops, however we decide to run it, or could even pick the two of you up on one of the passes over this area. Get you out of here altogether, let them carry on with their wild goose chase until they run out of funding and have to cut down to a skeleton crew there in the valley, just to keep up the appearance of an active search. We could do that. Can do it. You just give the word.”
“You’re an awful persuasive man, Kilgore. Should’ve been a doggone politician. You would have gone far.”
“Nah, I rub most folks the wrong way. Or so I’ve been told. Wouldn’t get many votes.”
“Nope, don’t guess so. Like to be able to give you mine, but in this case, just can’t do it. What I said before still stands. Ask me again someday when you’re running for Senate, and I may be able to reconsider my vote.
“Have it your way then, ya mangy old coyote. Never did lack for stubbornness, did you? But I had to try.” Gonna have to keep on trying just as long as I’m up here…
Kilgore shifted position on the log that was serving as his seat, not altogether oblivious to the danger he’d been in, but not terribly perturbed by it, either. Such is life. “So, you given this thing any thought, Asmundson?”
“What thing?”
“Our proposals. Any of ’em. All of ’em.”
“Been giving things like that thought for the last couple years, off and on. Always come to the same conclusion.”
“Which is?”
“Can’t risk it. That’s how these things end, Kilgore, and you know it. One little slip-up like that, one contact too many with the outside world, and it’s over. You’ve hunted enough human critters in your time to know that it’s so. Our only safety, our only chance out here, long term…is in total isolation. And you’re spoiling it. You and the lady.”
“Aw hey now, don’t go lumping me in with ‘the outside world.’ I ain’t part of the outside world, I’m just me, and I’m telling ya, we came up here only with incredible care and caution. Nobody followed us.”
“I believe you. But just as a matter of statistical probability, the more frequently we have these contacts, the sooner one of them’s going to get us caught. I’d rather keep those chances down to a manageable level, which means that when I say I don’t want to see you up here again, I sure as heck mean it. Don’t do this again. I’ve got a family to protect now, and you know I’m gonna use whatever means are necessary to do that. Even if they involve you not making the return trip to the valley, one of these times. Be kind of a shame for it to come to that.”
“Well now, yes it would. I’ve come to be fairly fond of this going-on-living business, as it turns out. Wasn’t always that way, but I seem to have got round to a spot where it’s a bit of a priority for me. Ever been there, Asmundson? In that spot? You can be, you know. But that’s for a different conversation. Maybe one we can have before I head out. We were talking about your family for now though, and how you plan to do whatever it takes to defend them. Which I know you mean as sincerely as a thing can be meant, and know you’re qualified to understand just what it may entail, too…but you ever thought of this?”
“Of what?”
“Of the fact that maybe you got to think outside the box a little when it comes to defending them. Got to realize that maybe the best way to do it might involve doing something that’s way outside your comfort zone, just because it makes the most sense--for them. You got to come down off this mountain, man. Got to at least consider it. Your bride’s about to give birth to her first kid here in a couple months, and looking around I don’t even have to tell you that you’re woefully under-equipped for such an occurrence. You got a house without a stove, woodshed without wood and though you do have a start in the area of food and fat, it’s not a real solid one, considering how late in the season it’s getting to be. As for clothes, it don’t appear you even got enough to keep your scrawny self from having to shiver all day long once the weather cools off some more--look at you, even now--unless you’re gonna stay in bed all the time wrapped up in that one bear hide. Got to have more than that, an awful lot more, if you want to make it up here. If you want your family to make it. I know you got antifreeze in your blood and can sit for a week in the snow without eating or drinking or freezing to death if you have to--pretty close, anyway--but bet neither the missus nor the little one have got that skill. At least not yet. Give you time, and you’ll teach ’em, I have no doubt. But if you want time, you got to get the both of them through this winter that’s comin’ up. This thing you’re trying to do here, this winter up near treeline…not even the Utes did this, man! Went down lower, all of ’em, down to sagebrush country where they only had to contend with maybe six, eight feet of snow instead of thirty, where the mountains gave some sort of shelter against the wind, you know that, right? Transitory folks, migratory. And it worked for them. That’s all I’m asking you think about doing--migrating! Nothing to say you can’t come back up here whenever you want, sometime after the little one comes, grows a little, maybe when the snow starts melting out…this place’ll still be here.”
“And look, you may not know it, but I’ve got the feds in my pocket, down there. They came to me, all but begged me to sign up for the search and are looking pretty desperately for ideas on where to turn, how to see some progress in this thing. For the moment at least, they’re tending to go where my reports direct them. I go fly around with Roger, get a feel for the land, look for tracks and sign that appears out of place--that’s what they think I’m doing, anyway--and away they go. Don’t you see the potential in that? Not only can we kinda steer them around your current location, but we could use those routine flights as a cover for a supply drop, drops, however we decide to run it, or could even pick the two of you up on one of the passes over this area. Get you out of here altogether, let them carry on with their wild goose chase until they run out of funding and have to cut down to a skeleton crew there in the valley, just to keep up the appearance of an active search. We could do that. Can do it. You just give the word.”
“You’re an awful persuasive man, Kilgore. Should’ve been a doggone politician. You would have gone far.”
“Nah, I rub most folks the wrong way. Or so I’ve been told. Wouldn’t get many votes.”
“Nope, don’t guess so. Like to be able to give you mine, but in this case, just can’t do it. What I said before still stands. Ask me again someday when you’re running for Senate, and I may be able to reconsider my vote.
“Have it your way then, ya mangy old coyote. Never did lack for stubbornness, did you? But I had to try.” Gonna have to keep on trying just as long as I’m up here…
21 March, 2011
21 March 2011
Bud could hear the irritation in Einar’s voice, the barely-concealed rage behind his calm assertion that they would keep on as they had been, and he sensed that it was time to back off, to give the man a little room to think about things, stop pushing so hard for a time--his rest in the cabin had done him a lot of good, but could not, after all, really have begun to erase the effects of the past week of sleeplessness and strain, and Bud knew it--but Susan hadn’t got the message, apparently, and wasn’t giving up.
“This thing you’re talking about doing--bringing a little one into the world up here in the middle of winter--it has been done before, I’m sure, and you can do it…if anyone can do it, it’s you two, but think about it…you know what this place is going to be like in the winter, the feet upon feet of snow that will cover it, the wind and the cold, and if anything goes wrong and you have to move… Einar, I know you don’t want to come out, and there’s really nothing I can say to you to try and change your mind on that I haven’t. already said. I understand that you need to be here. But I want you to know that if it needs to be…Liz, if it needs to be just you and the baby, just come down and stay with me--or in another location, we can find someplace very safe, someplace they’d never dream of looking--until the little one’s born and old enough to hold her own a little better up here, we could do that, and then fly you back up to the basin, the two of you…”
Bud could feel Einar bristle at the suggestion, could feel it from four feet away, though the fugitive was doing an admirable job of maintaining the outward illusion of calm and quiet, and he sincerely hoped Susan would not attempt to expound too much further on the proposal--Einar, he had little doubt, would have responded physically by that point if it had been his suggestion rather than Susan’s; the only thing saving her, far as he could see, was the fact that she was a woman, and was Liz’s friend--and he scrambled to try and think of something he might say to turn the conversation in a different direction before things deteriorated any further, but Liz saved him the trouble.
“No. Oh, no. I’m staying with my husband, and if that means staying up here, then so be it. We’ve lost and found each other way too many times for me to want to volunteer for another one! Either we both stay, or we both go.” She moved closer to Einar on the log, tried to put an arm around his waist but felt that he was incredibly tense, coiled like a spring and not wanting to be touched, so she gave him his space. Figured his foot must be hurting him a great deal that afternoon, in addition to all the other things that were demanding his attention, and she half wished their meeting with Bud and Susan might be at an end so she could talk him back into the cabin for more sleep, but knew they had as of yet resolved little, weren’t finished. Not to mention that sleep appeared to be the furthest thing from Einar’s mind at the moment, eyes wide and staring as he studied the woods behind Bud and Susan, looking like he fully expected someone to appear out there amongst the trees and being--she had no doubt--fully prepared to deal with such an incursion, should it happen. Didn’t happen, though, and after a brief bur rather expectant-seeming pause Susan nodded, rose.
“That’s up to the two of you, or course. We’re just trying to make sure you see all the options, give them some thought--please give them some thought--and see if one of them might be made to work for you. Now. Wasn’t I supposed to be carrying jerky baskets over to the cabin? Better get back to work.” Liz, trying to catch Einar’s eye but seeing him deep in thought, went with her.
For some time Liz and Susan worked together in silence, ferrying baskets from their resting spot beneath the hanging trees to the cabin, where Liz worked with a careful deliberation to hang them from the rafters, placing each one exactly as she had arranged it before their recent departure for the valley and wishing desperately that the silence from outside, where Einar and Bud still sat facing each other, had not been so resounding. Somebody ought to say something, ought break that silence but it went on, Kilgore knowing better than to interrupt the thoughts that no doubt roiled and simmered in there just behind Einar’s very deliberately blank eyes. The man would come out of it when he was ready, would talk, and until then Bud was perfectly content to sit, and to wait. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d done such for one man or another who he considered to be a friend. Passing not far from them on each jerky-ferrying trip, Liz and Susan did their best to ignore the two men, soon finishing with their task. While in transit between the hanging trees and cabin, Liz had pointed out to Susan several of the plants that they had come to rely on up there to supplement their diet of rabbit, bear and sheep, and Susan listened with pleasure to Liz’s descriptions of the many benefits of the nettles, violets, shepherd’s purse and others that made their homes in the dappled sunlight beneath the scrawny aspens just outside the clearing. Several of those same plants Susan had introduced to Liz during her time up at the house, though the knowledge she had passed along represented only a tiny fraction of what Liz had since acquired through using the plants in her everyday life, and from Einar. Raspberries were one thing that Susan did not see sign of up there, though the terrain certainly seemed conducive to their growth.
“In all your wanderings up here, have you happened upon a little patch or two of wild raspberries?”
“Oh, yes! There’s an entire gully full of then down in the basin. Earlier in the summer I dried what I thought was a huge quantity of the leaves--Einar even helped me harvest them and spread them out for drying--but I’ve been surprised at how quickly they’ve got used up. Getting a little low. I really ought to put up another bundle or two of them before the leaves start turning and falling off…”
“I’m glad you’ve been using the leaves up quickly. You ought to be drinking a good quart or so of that stuff every day when you can. It’ll help when the time comes.”
“Oh, I have been. Been making a whole cook pot full of it most mornings, and Einar occasionally has a little, but I’m drinking most of it. Only now I’m almost out of the dried leaves, so had better be thinking about…”
“Well, no time’s better than the present. I think these guys could use some space, anyway. Let’s go get it done!”
While Liz went into the cabin for a pair of leaf-harvesting baskets (jerky baskets, berry picking baskets, everything had many and multiple uses, around there) Susan stopped briefly by to tell Bud and Einar where they were headed. Neither responded with more than a grunt or a nod, but Susan knew they had heard, and would have spoken up had there been any reason for objection. Leaving together for the basin--Liz was, despite the tension in camp r maybe even partially because if it, actually somewhat looking forward to showing Susan a few of the sights there in the area, the tarn with its impossibly still, sky-reflecting waters, the little patches of stunted shepherd’s purse where she had been gathering and drying leaves for use after the birth…must remember to ask her more about how and when they’re to be used, I know she has the details…and the rock-strewn little gully whose partially shaded steeps had proven such a fruitful refuge for raspberry thickets--they looked back just before entering the timber, saw the two men still sitting across from one another on the meeting-logs, involved in what appeared to be a rather intense and possibly even angry conversation.
“This thing you’re talking about doing--bringing a little one into the world up here in the middle of winter--it has been done before, I’m sure, and you can do it…if anyone can do it, it’s you two, but think about it…you know what this place is going to be like in the winter, the feet upon feet of snow that will cover it, the wind and the cold, and if anything goes wrong and you have to move… Einar, I know you don’t want to come out, and there’s really nothing I can say to you to try and change your mind on that I haven’t. already said. I understand that you need to be here. But I want you to know that if it needs to be…Liz, if it needs to be just you and the baby, just come down and stay with me--or in another location, we can find someplace very safe, someplace they’d never dream of looking--until the little one’s born and old enough to hold her own a little better up here, we could do that, and then fly you back up to the basin, the two of you…”
Bud could feel Einar bristle at the suggestion, could feel it from four feet away, though the fugitive was doing an admirable job of maintaining the outward illusion of calm and quiet, and he sincerely hoped Susan would not attempt to expound too much further on the proposal--Einar, he had little doubt, would have responded physically by that point if it had been his suggestion rather than Susan’s; the only thing saving her, far as he could see, was the fact that she was a woman, and was Liz’s friend--and he scrambled to try and think of something he might say to turn the conversation in a different direction before things deteriorated any further, but Liz saved him the trouble.
“No. Oh, no. I’m staying with my husband, and if that means staying up here, then so be it. We’ve lost and found each other way too many times for me to want to volunteer for another one! Either we both stay, or we both go.” She moved closer to Einar on the log, tried to put an arm around his waist but felt that he was incredibly tense, coiled like a spring and not wanting to be touched, so she gave him his space. Figured his foot must be hurting him a great deal that afternoon, in addition to all the other things that were demanding his attention, and she half wished their meeting with Bud and Susan might be at an end so she could talk him back into the cabin for more sleep, but knew they had as of yet resolved little, weren’t finished. Not to mention that sleep appeared to be the furthest thing from Einar’s mind at the moment, eyes wide and staring as he studied the woods behind Bud and Susan, looking like he fully expected someone to appear out there amongst the trees and being--she had no doubt--fully prepared to deal with such an incursion, should it happen. Didn’t happen, though, and after a brief bur rather expectant-seeming pause Susan nodded, rose.
“That’s up to the two of you, or course. We’re just trying to make sure you see all the options, give them some thought--please give them some thought--and see if one of them might be made to work for you. Now. Wasn’t I supposed to be carrying jerky baskets over to the cabin? Better get back to work.” Liz, trying to catch Einar’s eye but seeing him deep in thought, went with her.
For some time Liz and Susan worked together in silence, ferrying baskets from their resting spot beneath the hanging trees to the cabin, where Liz worked with a careful deliberation to hang them from the rafters, placing each one exactly as she had arranged it before their recent departure for the valley and wishing desperately that the silence from outside, where Einar and Bud still sat facing each other, had not been so resounding. Somebody ought to say something, ought break that silence but it went on, Kilgore knowing better than to interrupt the thoughts that no doubt roiled and simmered in there just behind Einar’s very deliberately blank eyes. The man would come out of it when he was ready, would talk, and until then Bud was perfectly content to sit, and to wait. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d done such for one man or another who he considered to be a friend. Passing not far from them on each jerky-ferrying trip, Liz and Susan did their best to ignore the two men, soon finishing with their task. While in transit between the hanging trees and cabin, Liz had pointed out to Susan several of the plants that they had come to rely on up there to supplement their diet of rabbit, bear and sheep, and Susan listened with pleasure to Liz’s descriptions of the many benefits of the nettles, violets, shepherd’s purse and others that made their homes in the dappled sunlight beneath the scrawny aspens just outside the clearing. Several of those same plants Susan had introduced to Liz during her time up at the house, though the knowledge she had passed along represented only a tiny fraction of what Liz had since acquired through using the plants in her everyday life, and from Einar. Raspberries were one thing that Susan did not see sign of up there, though the terrain certainly seemed conducive to their growth.
“In all your wanderings up here, have you happened upon a little patch or two of wild raspberries?”
“Oh, yes! There’s an entire gully full of then down in the basin. Earlier in the summer I dried what I thought was a huge quantity of the leaves--Einar even helped me harvest them and spread them out for drying--but I’ve been surprised at how quickly they’ve got used up. Getting a little low. I really ought to put up another bundle or two of them before the leaves start turning and falling off…”
“I’m glad you’ve been using the leaves up quickly. You ought to be drinking a good quart or so of that stuff every day when you can. It’ll help when the time comes.”
“Oh, I have been. Been making a whole cook pot full of it most mornings, and Einar occasionally has a little, but I’m drinking most of it. Only now I’m almost out of the dried leaves, so had better be thinking about…”
“Well, no time’s better than the present. I think these guys could use some space, anyway. Let’s go get it done!”
While Liz went into the cabin for a pair of leaf-harvesting baskets (jerky baskets, berry picking baskets, everything had many and multiple uses, around there) Susan stopped briefly by to tell Bud and Einar where they were headed. Neither responded with more than a grunt or a nod, but Susan knew they had heard, and would have spoken up had there been any reason for objection. Leaving together for the basin--Liz was, despite the tension in camp r maybe even partially because if it, actually somewhat looking forward to showing Susan a few of the sights there in the area, the tarn with its impossibly still, sky-reflecting waters, the little patches of stunted shepherd’s purse where she had been gathering and drying leaves for use after the birth…must remember to ask her more about how and when they’re to be used, I know she has the details…and the rock-strewn little gully whose partially shaded steeps had proven such a fruitful refuge for raspberry thickets--they looked back just before entering the timber, saw the two men still sitting across from one another on the meeting-logs, involved in what appeared to be a rather intense and possibly even angry conversation.
20 March, 2011
20 March 2011
No chapter today, but I'll be back with another tomorrow.
Glad you all have found the story here--thanks so much for reading!
Glad you all have found the story here--thanks so much for reading!
19 March, 2011
19 March 2011
Though Einar was reasonably certain he did not want to hear what Susan had to say, didn’t especially want Liz hearing it either, lest she find the proposal--whatever it was--greatly tempting and herself disappointed if they weren’t able to take advantage of it, he supposed they might as well listen. Appreciated the fact that Susan had, it seemed, waited to talk to the two of them together about it, rather than plying her influence on Liz in his absence and attempting to convince her one way or another on the matter, knew he could be misinterpreting that aspect of things--was pretty adept at misinterpreting most people’s intentions, really, and had been all his life; puzzling critters, those humans--but believed from Susan’s words that she had indeed waited until that moment to bring the matter up for discussion. Taking his leave of Susan, he returned to the cabin.
“Looks like you better come on out here, when you’re done with the water. Susan’s got something in mind she wants to talk with us about, both of us, and it looks like she’s kinda anxious to get started.”
Liz gave him a strange look--wasn’t like him to be so cooperative, especially in arranging a meeting whose purpose she could only guess he would not find to his approval--smiled and rose from the spot where she had been sopping up a bit of spilled water from the barrel-filling. Guessed perhaps he might still be a bit strange and sleepy after his brief time of sleep--a good possibility, as far behind as he had by his own admission been--and though such circumstances would normally have left him more reticent, reserved and bull-headed, she could only be thankful if this particular time they had somehow allowed for the opposite. By the time they got back outside Kilgore was there also, he and Susan having taken seats on logs that were destined to become part of the woodshed, having left spots opposite them for Einar and Liz to sit. Way too formal-looking as far as Einar was concerned, and he wanted to bolt, get out of there and take Liz with him, but he’d agreed to listen, and listen he would.
Hobbling over to one of the remaining logs and taking a seat, he stared blankly at a spot somewhere between their two guests--that gap contained the trunk and near branches of an almost perfectly-framed little fir tree, as things happened, and the image was quite pleasing to him, seemed better than wondering which of the two of them he was supposed to look at, and for how long, as he knew he tended either to not look at people, which they seemed to interpret as either disinterest or dishonesty, while it was certainly neither, or to stare at them so intently that they mistakenly read a threat in his eyes, and looked away, themselves, so he kept his focus on the tree--waiting for someone to speak. Susan, it seemed, was to be the designated spokeswoman. Made sense. Einar had a strong suspicion that the thing they were about to propose, or one much like it, had already been offered them by Kilgore on a previous visit, and refused, and he shuddered almost imperceptibly at the memory-shadow of that visit. Had been terribly sick with the infection in his foot, then, had feared his ability to refuse unwise offers of help might thus be somewhat compromised, and, the night after Kilgore had set forth his proposal to meet the two of them down at the highway with a van and transport them out of the area, he’d endured a terrifying and amazingly realistic dream about just how very wrong such an endeavor could go, and he shook his head to clear it of those images, didn’t particularly want them coloring his understanding of what he was about to hear. Yet, they inevitably would. Susan seemed to be waiting until she was sure she had his attention, so he looked up, briefly met her eye.
“I’m absolutely amazed at what the two of you have accomplished up here. You’ve really turned this basin into home, taken the things available and made a life up here in a way that very few would be able to do. I just can’t get over it, and I’m so proud of you, Liz, seeing how you’ve adapted to this life and learned the skills you need to get along out here, and Einar, you’re clearly a very good teacher. It shows. With the baby coming, though, and winter coming even sooner…well, have you--both of you--thought through all the additional challenges that are coming your way? I know you can meet them if anyone can, but Mr. Kilgore and I have been talking, and we’d like to make you an offer.”
“Right,” Kilgore took over, looking square at Einar though meaning his words for both of them. “You know my friend Roger Kiesl, the one who was flying over here in the little green and white plane a week or so ago? Well, he’s got a good bit of experience flying tough missions in out of the way places, busting embargoes and running blockades--ha! Those were the days! Though he was flying a bigger plane in those days, too…only so much hardware you can fit into one of them little DeHavillands, after all--and sneaking in under the radar with loads of weapons and all that, flying back out with loads of sugar and corned beef and such for export…what I’m trying to say is that Roger’s good. Real good at what he does. If he can get weapons shipments past the Russians and the Portuguese and the doggone United Nations, well, I do believe he can get some stuff in here to you kids undetected.”
“What Mr. Kilgore is saying is that we want to get a list from you of what you most need, so it can be delivered to the basin now, and throughout the winter, if the two of you find the idea agreeable. What do you say?”
No! That’s what Einar had to say, no, we do not find the idea agreeable, not at all, this being a totally different situation from the ones you described, in that we are the sole targets of the enemy’s entire operation, and they’ve got an awful lot of resources to devote to finding us and us alone, no way, terrible idea, if a bold one, and something I’d sure be signing up to participate in, was I in Bud or Roger’s position, and not my own… But he kept quiet for a minute, contemplating the best way to say it.
“Sounds like you folks have put a good deal of thought into this, and I thank you, but any plan that involves repeated outside contacts with us or our location seems like a sure way for us--he folks aiding us--to end up getting caught, and it simply isn’t worth it, worth the risk, we’ve been managing like this and will go on doing it. I just can’t trade my family’s security--and freedom, and lives most likely, if you carry things through to their likely conclusion--for the promise of food and supplies. Just can’t do that. Appreciate the offer, but gonna have to say no.”
“Aw now Asmundson, you know many a small foreign country has been supplied this way when the entire world said it could not, must not be done, and…”
“We’re not a small foreign country, Kilgore.”
“If I had my way, you would be. Asmundsonland. Huh. Nope, don’t have much of a ring to it, have to come up with a different name, but you get the idea. Small sovereign mountain kingdom. Can I come live here, if it ever comes to pass?”
“You can live here now, so long as you don’t get anywhere within a thirty mile radius of us. Or fly any more planes over our heads. Ever. Our country, our airspace.”
Kilgore nodded. Alright. Yep, we figured you’d say that, and you’re right, no matter how good a fella is, there’s some risk in the repeated contacts that kind of a system would entail. So we got another proposal for ya. No--hey!--don’t be giving me that look, just sit right back down there and hear me out. Not gonna hurt you to listen. There you go. Good. Now here it is. Kiesl’s landed that little plane in a lot of tight spots, and this basin you’ve got down there would be far from the tightest landing he’s ever made. Plenty of open grassy area for him to use. So my thought is, how about we give you folks some time, week or two if you need it, and then Roger and I’ll fly up here and you can hitch a ride. Right from the basin. We can take you…heck, there’s pretty much no place we can’t take you, given a little time and ingenuity. With my connections, I could arrange transport and get you pretty nearly anyplace in the world, or if you want to keep it a little simpler, and more local, Roger can just fly you to the next county. Or Idaho. Or maybe Canada, Alaska, anywhere you’d like, let you get a fresh start at things”
Jumping in before Einar could refuse, Susan continued the argument. “Wouldn’t you like to be able to relax a little, to slow down and enjoy this change in your life--the baby--without having to worry so much where the next meal is going to come from, whether you’ll have enough warm clothes to make it through the winter, watching every plane that passes over and wondering if it’s the one that’s going to see some sign of you and get the search back on your trail again…wouldn’t you like to have a little break from all that? Just focus on each other and your new family member?”
“Yeah, think about it. You been out in the field for a long time, Asmundson. Everybody needs some down time, a few days of R&R once every…let’s see, what has it been now? Three years? Four? Even if you don’t want it, I bet your lady wants it for you, for both of you, especially with the little one coming--don’t you want to be able to give that to her?”
Einar shrugged. “Sure. But that’s not life. Not our life, not out here. Life we’re living comes with its costs alright, but if you don’t pay them…well, you just don’t last long. We’re getting by. Will keep at it.”
“Looks like you better come on out here, when you’re done with the water. Susan’s got something in mind she wants to talk with us about, both of us, and it looks like she’s kinda anxious to get started.”
Liz gave him a strange look--wasn’t like him to be so cooperative, especially in arranging a meeting whose purpose she could only guess he would not find to his approval--smiled and rose from the spot where she had been sopping up a bit of spilled water from the barrel-filling. Guessed perhaps he might still be a bit strange and sleepy after his brief time of sleep--a good possibility, as far behind as he had by his own admission been--and though such circumstances would normally have left him more reticent, reserved and bull-headed, she could only be thankful if this particular time they had somehow allowed for the opposite. By the time they got back outside Kilgore was there also, he and Susan having taken seats on logs that were destined to become part of the woodshed, having left spots opposite them for Einar and Liz to sit. Way too formal-looking as far as Einar was concerned, and he wanted to bolt, get out of there and take Liz with him, but he’d agreed to listen, and listen he would.
Hobbling over to one of the remaining logs and taking a seat, he stared blankly at a spot somewhere between their two guests--that gap contained the trunk and near branches of an almost perfectly-framed little fir tree, as things happened, and the image was quite pleasing to him, seemed better than wondering which of the two of them he was supposed to look at, and for how long, as he knew he tended either to not look at people, which they seemed to interpret as either disinterest or dishonesty, while it was certainly neither, or to stare at them so intently that they mistakenly read a threat in his eyes, and looked away, themselves, so he kept his focus on the tree--waiting for someone to speak. Susan, it seemed, was to be the designated spokeswoman. Made sense. Einar had a strong suspicion that the thing they were about to propose, or one much like it, had already been offered them by Kilgore on a previous visit, and refused, and he shuddered almost imperceptibly at the memory-shadow of that visit. Had been terribly sick with the infection in his foot, then, had feared his ability to refuse unwise offers of help might thus be somewhat compromised, and, the night after Kilgore had set forth his proposal to meet the two of them down at the highway with a van and transport them out of the area, he’d endured a terrifying and amazingly realistic dream about just how very wrong such an endeavor could go, and he shook his head to clear it of those images, didn’t particularly want them coloring his understanding of what he was about to hear. Yet, they inevitably would. Susan seemed to be waiting until she was sure she had his attention, so he looked up, briefly met her eye.
“I’m absolutely amazed at what the two of you have accomplished up here. You’ve really turned this basin into home, taken the things available and made a life up here in a way that very few would be able to do. I just can’t get over it, and I’m so proud of you, Liz, seeing how you’ve adapted to this life and learned the skills you need to get along out here, and Einar, you’re clearly a very good teacher. It shows. With the baby coming, though, and winter coming even sooner…well, have you--both of you--thought through all the additional challenges that are coming your way? I know you can meet them if anyone can, but Mr. Kilgore and I have been talking, and we’d like to make you an offer.”
“Right,” Kilgore took over, looking square at Einar though meaning his words for both of them. “You know my friend Roger Kiesl, the one who was flying over here in the little green and white plane a week or so ago? Well, he’s got a good bit of experience flying tough missions in out of the way places, busting embargoes and running blockades--ha! Those were the days! Though he was flying a bigger plane in those days, too…only so much hardware you can fit into one of them little DeHavillands, after all--and sneaking in under the radar with loads of weapons and all that, flying back out with loads of sugar and corned beef and such for export…what I’m trying to say is that Roger’s good. Real good at what he does. If he can get weapons shipments past the Russians and the Portuguese and the doggone United Nations, well, I do believe he can get some stuff in here to you kids undetected.”
“What Mr. Kilgore is saying is that we want to get a list from you of what you most need, so it can be delivered to the basin now, and throughout the winter, if the two of you find the idea agreeable. What do you say?”
No! That’s what Einar had to say, no, we do not find the idea agreeable, not at all, this being a totally different situation from the ones you described, in that we are the sole targets of the enemy’s entire operation, and they’ve got an awful lot of resources to devote to finding us and us alone, no way, terrible idea, if a bold one, and something I’d sure be signing up to participate in, was I in Bud or Roger’s position, and not my own… But he kept quiet for a minute, contemplating the best way to say it.
“Sounds like you folks have put a good deal of thought into this, and I thank you, but any plan that involves repeated outside contacts with us or our location seems like a sure way for us--he folks aiding us--to end up getting caught, and it simply isn’t worth it, worth the risk, we’ve been managing like this and will go on doing it. I just can’t trade my family’s security--and freedom, and lives most likely, if you carry things through to their likely conclusion--for the promise of food and supplies. Just can’t do that. Appreciate the offer, but gonna have to say no.”
“Aw now Asmundson, you know many a small foreign country has been supplied this way when the entire world said it could not, must not be done, and…”
“We’re not a small foreign country, Kilgore.”
“If I had my way, you would be. Asmundsonland. Huh. Nope, don’t have much of a ring to it, have to come up with a different name, but you get the idea. Small sovereign mountain kingdom. Can I come live here, if it ever comes to pass?”
“You can live here now, so long as you don’t get anywhere within a thirty mile radius of us. Or fly any more planes over our heads. Ever. Our country, our airspace.”
Kilgore nodded. Alright. Yep, we figured you’d say that, and you’re right, no matter how good a fella is, there’s some risk in the repeated contacts that kind of a system would entail. So we got another proposal for ya. No--hey!--don’t be giving me that look, just sit right back down there and hear me out. Not gonna hurt you to listen. There you go. Good. Now here it is. Kiesl’s landed that little plane in a lot of tight spots, and this basin you’ve got down there would be far from the tightest landing he’s ever made. Plenty of open grassy area for him to use. So my thought is, how about we give you folks some time, week or two if you need it, and then Roger and I’ll fly up here and you can hitch a ride. Right from the basin. We can take you…heck, there’s pretty much no place we can’t take you, given a little time and ingenuity. With my connections, I could arrange transport and get you pretty nearly anyplace in the world, or if you want to keep it a little simpler, and more local, Roger can just fly you to the next county. Or Idaho. Or maybe Canada, Alaska, anywhere you’d like, let you get a fresh start at things”
Jumping in before Einar could refuse, Susan continued the argument. “Wouldn’t you like to be able to relax a little, to slow down and enjoy this change in your life--the baby--without having to worry so much where the next meal is going to come from, whether you’ll have enough warm clothes to make it through the winter, watching every plane that passes over and wondering if it’s the one that’s going to see some sign of you and get the search back on your trail again…wouldn’t you like to have a little break from all that? Just focus on each other and your new family member?”
“Yeah, think about it. You been out in the field for a long time, Asmundson. Everybody needs some down time, a few days of R&R once every…let’s see, what has it been now? Three years? Four? Even if you don’t want it, I bet your lady wants it for you, for both of you, especially with the little one coming--don’t you want to be able to give that to her?”
Einar shrugged. “Sure. But that’s not life. Not our life, not out here. Life we’re living comes with its costs alright, but if you don’t pay them…well, you just don’t last long. We’re getting by. Will keep at it.”
18 March, 2011
18 March 2011
The two hours of sleep that he managed--quiet, exhausted, troubled at times by dream but not interrupted--did wonders for Einar, left him far more steady, mind clearer than it had been in a day or two, and when he woke to the sound of Liz pouring water into the barrel, he was on his feet in an instant, scrambling out from beneath the bear hide. Regretted it in the same instant as his injured foot took some of his weight and sent shock waves through him, but he remained standing, hobbled over to Liz.
“What…how long was I asleep. Sure didn’t mean to sleep this long.”
“It’s alright. It’s good. I’m glad you were able to do it.”
“Kilgore?”
“He’s still here. He and Susan went up to the spring and brought us this water. I thought it would be a good project for them, keep them away from here while you slept.”
“You told them how to find the spring?”
“Yes…should I not have done that?”
Einar started to respond, stopped himself and shook his head. They’re not gonna poison your water source, just like they didn’t poison the Nutella you all shared after the meal, and you’d better not let her know that’s what you were thinking just now, either. Or she’s liable to come at you with that rabbit stick, and you’ve still not quite got your head on straight again from the last whack you gave it in that fall… “Nope, it’s fine. Good for everyone to know where their water’s coming from, so as long as they’re here, guess they might as well be aware of the spring. Where are they now?”
“They’re hauling in timbers for the woodshed. I told them they didn’t need to do anything like that, but Susan kept insisting the might as well help out as long as they’re here, so that seemed like a good thing for them to do. Since it has to be done at some point.”
Einar nodded, took a step towards the door, trying not altogether successfully to spare the injured foot. “I better get busy too. That was a long time to be away, and the year’s not getting any younger, is it? Thought I saw a bit of yellow in the aspens I was passing through yesterday, just a few little clusters of leaves here and there, but before we know it, fall will be here. Better check to make sure everything’s like we left it, then get working on a plan to raid that bee tree. Be good to have the honey set aside before the cold weather really gets serious about putting in an appearance. Good quick source of energy.”
“Yes, it sure is. I’ll come with you.” She followed him, not daring to let on how very, tremendously glad she was that he seemed so much more himself after the short nap, that he--despite being himself, and it being something he would definitely be expected to do--had not yet again mentioned his pervious determination to leave the place with all haste, instead seeming to plan for their winter preparations as if nothing had ever happened. She could only pray that he might remain on that course, not become convinced once again that they must abandon all that they had worked so hard for, and at such a late hour. Please, if there’s any way at all, may it stay like this…
Einar, virtually bounding out the door as he rejoiced at his newfound energy, came very close to running headlong into Susan, who was at that moment busy propping yet another small dead aspen against the woodshed frame, working to complete the leaning wall that Einar had previously begun. Rather than the incident turning ugly as it likely would have earlier in the day Einar simply laughed, apologized for his clumsiness and went to work on another of the timbers in the pile Bud and Susan had hauled in.
“You folks sure didn’t have to go to all this trouble. Got to leave yourselves some time to enjoy the scenery while you’re up here…”
“Oh, we enjoyed it thoroughly on the way up,” Susan jumped into the conversation, carefully leaning her own aspen against the largely-completed wall, filling a gap. “We’re here to work! Or at least, we might as well work, since we are here! Can’t stay much longer. I’ve got to get back to the greenhouses. So. What else would you like us to do? What would be most helpful to you?”
Einar just grinned at her, shrugged and glanced around for Liz. Felt strange being talked to by another person after all that time, and he didn’t exactly know what to say. Liz was nowhere to be seen, though, having taken the second water container from the creek and gone inside to add it to the amount in the water barrel, so he contemplated the matter for a minute, finally came up with an idea that he hoped would suit everyone. “Not asking you to do any work here, but if you’re set on it, how about bringing some of those jerky baskets over here, so Liz can stash them inside? That be alright?”
“Yes, of course! We helped her bring them all down out of the trees earlier, but I’m pretty sure they’re still over there where we set them. That’s a lot of jerky. Must have been a big bear you two trapped! We saw the place where you camped while you took care of the meat, up by the spring.”
“Liz told you about that, huh? Yep, was a pretty big one. That’s his hide in there on the bed. Was a pretty big job getting him all sliced up and dried and that hide processed, but the results were real good. Need more though. Winter’s coming. I got to get out there and find us a few elk, a sheep, another bear, if possible. Real soon.”
“I hope you won’t think me out of place for bringing it up, but I have been wanting to talk to the two of you about that, to offer…”
“Oh, no. No you don’t. Don’t be making us any offers that you know we’re just gonna have to refuse. We can’t just…”
“I know. Know there’s a lot you can’t do, but Mr. Kilgore--Bud--and I…we’ve been talking, and there area couple of different ideas we had for the two of you. Will you at least listen? Please?”
Einar shook his head, looked away from her and worked hard to restrain himself from making a hasty and angry response. “Yeah, I’ll listen. Better go get Lizzie., so we only have to hear this once.”
“What…how long was I asleep. Sure didn’t mean to sleep this long.”
“It’s alright. It’s good. I’m glad you were able to do it.”
“Kilgore?”
“He’s still here. He and Susan went up to the spring and brought us this water. I thought it would be a good project for them, keep them away from here while you slept.”
“You told them how to find the spring?”
“Yes…should I not have done that?”
Einar started to respond, stopped himself and shook his head. They’re not gonna poison your water source, just like they didn’t poison the Nutella you all shared after the meal, and you’d better not let her know that’s what you were thinking just now, either. Or she’s liable to come at you with that rabbit stick, and you’ve still not quite got your head on straight again from the last whack you gave it in that fall… “Nope, it’s fine. Good for everyone to know where their water’s coming from, so as long as they’re here, guess they might as well be aware of the spring. Where are they now?”
“They’re hauling in timbers for the woodshed. I told them they didn’t need to do anything like that, but Susan kept insisting the might as well help out as long as they’re here, so that seemed like a good thing for them to do. Since it has to be done at some point.”
Einar nodded, took a step towards the door, trying not altogether successfully to spare the injured foot. “I better get busy too. That was a long time to be away, and the year’s not getting any younger, is it? Thought I saw a bit of yellow in the aspens I was passing through yesterday, just a few little clusters of leaves here and there, but before we know it, fall will be here. Better check to make sure everything’s like we left it, then get working on a plan to raid that bee tree. Be good to have the honey set aside before the cold weather really gets serious about putting in an appearance. Good quick source of energy.”
“Yes, it sure is. I’ll come with you.” She followed him, not daring to let on how very, tremendously glad she was that he seemed so much more himself after the short nap, that he--despite being himself, and it being something he would definitely be expected to do--had not yet again mentioned his pervious determination to leave the place with all haste, instead seeming to plan for their winter preparations as if nothing had ever happened. She could only pray that he might remain on that course, not become convinced once again that they must abandon all that they had worked so hard for, and at such a late hour. Please, if there’s any way at all, may it stay like this…
Einar, virtually bounding out the door as he rejoiced at his newfound energy, came very close to running headlong into Susan, who was at that moment busy propping yet another small dead aspen against the woodshed frame, working to complete the leaning wall that Einar had previously begun. Rather than the incident turning ugly as it likely would have earlier in the day Einar simply laughed, apologized for his clumsiness and went to work on another of the timbers in the pile Bud and Susan had hauled in.
“You folks sure didn’t have to go to all this trouble. Got to leave yourselves some time to enjoy the scenery while you’re up here…”
“Oh, we enjoyed it thoroughly on the way up,” Susan jumped into the conversation, carefully leaning her own aspen against the largely-completed wall, filling a gap. “We’re here to work! Or at least, we might as well work, since we are here! Can’t stay much longer. I’ve got to get back to the greenhouses. So. What else would you like us to do? What would be most helpful to you?”
Einar just grinned at her, shrugged and glanced around for Liz. Felt strange being talked to by another person after all that time, and he didn’t exactly know what to say. Liz was nowhere to be seen, though, having taken the second water container from the creek and gone inside to add it to the amount in the water barrel, so he contemplated the matter for a minute, finally came up with an idea that he hoped would suit everyone. “Not asking you to do any work here, but if you’re set on it, how about bringing some of those jerky baskets over here, so Liz can stash them inside? That be alright?”
“Yes, of course! We helped her bring them all down out of the trees earlier, but I’m pretty sure they’re still over there where we set them. That’s a lot of jerky. Must have been a big bear you two trapped! We saw the place where you camped while you took care of the meat, up by the spring.”
“Liz told you about that, huh? Yep, was a pretty big one. That’s his hide in there on the bed. Was a pretty big job getting him all sliced up and dried and that hide processed, but the results were real good. Need more though. Winter’s coming. I got to get out there and find us a few elk, a sheep, another bear, if possible. Real soon.”
“I hope you won’t think me out of place for bringing it up, but I have been wanting to talk to the two of you about that, to offer…”
“Oh, no. No you don’t. Don’t be making us any offers that you know we’re just gonna have to refuse. We can’t just…”
“I know. Know there’s a lot you can’t do, but Mr. Kilgore--Bud--and I…we’ve been talking, and there area couple of different ideas we had for the two of you. Will you at least listen? Please?”
Einar shook his head, looked away from her and worked hard to restrain himself from making a hasty and angry response. “Yeah, I’ll listen. Better go get Lizzie., so we only have to hear this once.”
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