Chapter Nineteen

 

HOUR BY HOUR the cloud deck grew lower, thicker, and darker. Mayme had already put an extra layer on an hour ago. She reined Duster to a stop, got down and pulled her coat out of the pack Red carried. She tugged it up her arms, pulled it over her shoulders, and tightened the collar around her neck.

Before the approaching storm there’d been clear sky, sun falling upon new-fallen snow. A soft breeze had blown from the west. It was moist not cold. The trees had been stripped of their white covering of frost by the recent wind. There was a mutter of thunder rumbling in the distance.

She’d been delivering mail on both routes for close to a month and a half. With each passing day, more evidence of the approaching winter made itself known. The days were getting shorter and because of that she’d had to make camp earlier. She’d taken to erecting a small canvas lean-to at night to capture the heat and protect her from the rain. But this morning she had woken to a two-inch covering of snow. Breakfast had been a couple of cold strips of jerky on the trail because the snow had completely extinguished the fire. The small pile of firewood was wet and useless. It was futile to start a fire from scratch only to have to put it out again shortly thereafter.

After wiping the snow off the backs of the horses with a piece of burlap, she’d tacked them up and headed out. The new snow had made the ground slippery in some downhill spots. Duster handled it well. Red was another story. Ever since his rescue, he’d bonded tightly with Duster to the point of having to be literally touching her whenever he became a little unsure of himself. Mayme tried to correct him by shouting “whoa” whenever he tried to push past, and even sometimes had to kick him in the chest with her heel to help him regain his senses. She’d told Duster several times to kick him, but to no avail.

On one hand, Red’s insecurity made her furious because it made him extremely pushy. But when he wasn’t being ponied, he was quite affectionate to the point of nickering every time she walked away from the horses. The guilt she developed made her quickly forgive him for his daily offenses. He’d been through a lot. And honestly, who knew what he’d seen when Billy was killed? More often than not, she’d turn around and give him some extra scratches under his chin. Even though he was a pain sometimes, Mayme found she was growing as attached to Red as she was to Duster.

Fortunately, the route here on out to Orofino Creek was relatively easy. There were no narrow trails along steep drop-offs, only mostly uninterrupted forest with a gentle incline. Mayme was looking forward to ending the day with less irritation of Red.

Whenever she could find a gap in the tree canopy Mayme looked skyward and checked the encroaching storm. After a few short hours, it was nearly upon her. And it wasn’t pretty. She looked around for a place to hunker down and keep warm and dry. But unlike in the higher altitudes, there were no rock outcroppings.

A group of close growing pines caught her eye. They were barely taller than the horses and small in diameter, but if she worked fast, she could somehow drape the canvas over them so that the horses could have some protection as well.

Suddenly the clouds darkened the sun and sky. The north wind struck with a frigidness she’d never felt before. The air was thick with furious snow. She dug her heels into Duster’s side and pointed her toward the trees. There was a hard tug on the saddle horn as the slack was tugged out from Red’s rope. He caught up quickly.

“Come on!” Mayme clucked to both horses. Whether they could hear her or not was anybody’s guess, but something got them moving. Maybe it was the desperation in her voice, or maybe they were as troubled as she was.

The horses rushed into the trees and disturbed the snow that’d already collected on the branches. It slid onto the saddle and into her lap. She brushed it off and instantly regretted it. The snow clung to her exposed hands. They ached with the cold. She wiped them under her armpits as best she could, but it did nothing to warm them up.

The cold had crept into her boots while she was riding. She’d managed to keep it mostly at bay by alternately standing up in the stirrups and sitting down. Although she could still feel her toes, they were getting increasingly stiff to move.

Mayme swung her leg over the saddle and slid down Duster’s side. She tried to ignore the stabbing pain as her feet hit the ground, but in a way felt grateful she could still feel something. She clenched her chattering teeth to keep them from breaking. She blew into her hands and rubbed them together. Her deerskin gloves were buried somewhere at the bottom of the pack and not easily accessible. She damned herself for not getting them out this morning before she left camp.

The horses exhaled thick white plumes that were at once swept away by the wind. Frosty icicles hung from their whiskers. Both shook their heads to rid themselves of the snow caking on their faces.

The wind blew relentlessly through the trees. Its howl was the only thing Mayme heard. It would be futile to try and put the canvas over the horses. It would only blow away. She pulled Red up alongside Duster and then stood in the middle of them to block the wind. Her face stung from the cold and the force of the snow hitting her. The flakes weren’t soft and moist like last night, but crystals of ice mixed with dry snow.

Mayme crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her chin to keep any heat from escaping the neck of her coat. I’ve got to stay warm. She alternated her weight from one leg to another to try and force warm blood into her feet. Her jaw hurt from trying to keep her teeth together. She’d never been so cold in her life.

The tempest continued for hours, piling up snow in drifts and blinding what was left of the day with ice-white dust. As Mayme got colder, she bent over against the cold and protected her eyes with her arms. Trees loomed into her vision and then vanished, swallowed in white.

At one point Mayme tried shoving her frozen hands between the saddle blanket and Duster’s back. Blood circulation and feeling slowly crept back into her digits. She nearly cried with the pain.

Standing between the horses was no longer helping to keep warm. When she could finally move her fingers she pounded the ice-crusted buckle of the horse-pack with her fist. It finally relented and she pushed the stiff leather through the buckle. It took her four tries before she could make her fingers work again to grasp and pull out the bedroll and canvas.

If I don’t get warm, I’m going to die. She’d have to leave the horses to fend for themselves against the storm. They showed no sign of wanting to leave the minimal shelter they’d been standing in for hours. She only hoped Duster’s loyalty would keep her close. She knew Red wouldn’t stray far from Duster.

The impenetrable thicket of trees behind her was her only hope of survival. She dropped to her knees and crawled in as far as could. Every movement was an effort. Through a series of moving back and forth she managed to roll herself up in the blanket with the canvas draped lopsidedly over her.

Mayme knew shivering was her body’s attempt to get warm. Being out of the wind helped slightly. But she was still cold. Very cold. She started to get sleepy and knew right then that she was in trouble. Despite fighting it as best she could, her heavy eyelids drooped and closed. The only relief she got was that the shivering had stopped and her muscles relaxed. She sighed deeply and drifted off.

 

MAYME SLOWLY REGAINED consciousness. She opened her eyes, but all she could see was blackness. Her arms and legs seemed tightly bound, but she recalled rolling herself up into the blanket and canvas. That’s probably why I can’t move. Too tired.

A horse snorted from nearby and she registered a flicker of relief. Duster, and therefore Red, were close by. The wind had quieted. Instead of the raging noise, a muffled breeze sang through the canopy.

As she became more aware, she realized her head was on an incline from her feet. And she felt movement. And muffled voices. Someone had come along and saved her. Tears welled up behind her eyelids. She never thought she’d wake up again when she had closed her eyes.

“Hello!” She tried in vain to wiggle enough to catch her savior’s attention. “Thank God you found me. Would you please tell me who you are?”

The movement stopped and she heard another voice. Two? Were there two people out there? She wished she could understand what they were saying.

“Would you help me out of this?” Mayme wiggled as hard as she could, but to no avail. A sudden jerk backward and the movement began again. She struggled against the tight binding but still couldn’t loosen it. After a while, she was just too tuckered out to try anymore. Her weariness and the warmth eventually lulled her to sleep.

Mayme had no idea how long she’d slept. It could’ve been minutes or hours. She just couldn’t be sure. Although any movement was severely limited, she remained warm and comfortable. There was no point in staring at the darkness, so she closed her eyes.

Time was countless while traveling in the cocoon. Mayme lost track of how many times she dozed off. She had no idea if it was day or night, only that she was alive, warm, and not alone. But she was confused as to who would’ve come across her in the storm. Had they sent someone out to search for her like she’d had to do for Billy? But she hadn’t been overdue in Oro Fino Creek when the storm hit. Who was it then? Her mind raced as she searched for answers to unresolved questions.

Mayme felt something slide under her back and butt. She was abruptly flipped over and off whatever she’d been laying on. She landed hard with a grunt. There was a chorus of muffled voices. And laughter. Somebody was laughing that she got tossed off?

“Hey! What’s the big idea? That was kind of harsh.” Mayme rolled from side to side and felt a slight give as she moved onto her left side. She continued unrolling until finally her arm was free enough to pull the cover off her face.

More laughter.

The bright sunlight reflecting off the snow blinded her. Tears formed and blurred her vision. She shaded her eyes with her arm and blinked until they slowly adjusted. Everything eventually came into focus as she wiped the tears out of her eyes.

At least ten shadowy figures stood in a circle around her. She couldn’t make out any faces because of the intense sunshine backlighting everything. There were various mumblings and more laughter. But it was in a language she didn’t recognize.

Suddenly she knew. She hadn’t been saved by a search party or good Samaritans. Rather, she’d been captured by Indians. She shoved her fist into her mouth to hold back a scream. Her heart raced to the point of exploding. God, no. Please don’t let it be so. There has to be some kind of mistake.

Mayme’s first instinct was to jump to her feet and flee. But she knew it would be of no use. In her condition, she’d never get away. More than likely she would fall from a well-placed arrow in her spine. She couldn’t trust her legs would obey her. They were shaky at best. She felt weak. Her bladder loosened. She took a shuddering breath and worked to keep from wetting herself.

“Mogo’ne.”

Mayme turned her head toward the voice. A series of high clouds had floated in, giving her eyes a break and allowing her to see more clearly. Like the rest of her onlookers, the warrior was very dark complected. A thick braid of black hair dangled over both shoulders. The ends were wrapped in fur. Even in the cold he wore only a loincloth.

“Nana.” One of the others pointed at Mayme’s chest.

“Mogo’ne.” The first Indian grabbed his crotch, jiggled it, and shook his head. This caused another round of laughter.

“Ponzo-bert!”

A woman tentatively shouldered her way through. She wore a fringed deerskin dress brightly decorated with beads and porcupine quills. Unlike Mayme’s captor, her thick black hair flowed freely over her shoulders. She kept her eyes downcast as if in humiliation.

The warrior who had called for her pointed at Mayme. “O-yem-fat-sup.”

The woman nodded and gruffly pulled Mayme to her feet.

Mayme’s head swam and her knees threatened to buckle. She tried to mask her fear with aggressiveness. She yanked her arm out of the woman’s grasp. A large arm snaked itself around her middle and picked her up. She tried to turn in his stronghold and only managed to get a glimpse of the amused smile the warrior wore.

“Nuikwi.”

The warrior carried her behind the woman who was walking toward a tepee. The woman pulled the flap aside and went inside. The warrior dropped Mayme at the entrance and she went to her knees. He grabbed her by the collar of her coat and tossed her inside.

Mayme landed in a heap next to a low-burning fire. Sparks rose from a displaced rock she’d pushed into the embers when she went down. She quickly rolled away from it and came face to face with a young girl. She was thin, and had vivid dark eyes over high cheekbones. She looked at Mayme with a blended mixture of fright, mockery, impatience, and scorn. Her dress was adorned with woven horsehair sewed in a pattern resembling the wind.

“Anta.” The girl pointed at Mayme and giggled.

“Ba’nangu.” The woman called Ponzo-bert ignored the girl and motioned for Mayme to stand. 

Mayme pushed up on shaky legs. She closed her eyes for a few seconds to combat the dizziness and nausea. She opened them and saw an ancient woman sitting in the shadows on the other side of the fire. The flames cast eerie shadows across her wrinkled face. She opened her mouth in a toothless grin and then shoved what looked like a strap of nameless dried meat into her mouth.

Mayme’s attention was forced back to Ponzo-bert as she felt a hard tug on the front of her coat.

“Ca-tto’aih.” Ponzo-bert held her palms upward and flicked her fingers up and down.

“You want me to take my coat off?”

There wasn’t even a hint of understanding on the woman’s face. Mayme raised her eyebrows and unbuttoned the top button of her coat.

Ponzo-bert nodded.

Mayme undid the front of her coat and then slipped it off. The interior of the tepee was warm enough to comfortably have it off. The scent of smoky pinesap hung in the air.

“Ca-tto’aih.” Ponzo-bert repeated her hand motions.

Mayme thought she understood now. For some reason the woman wanted her to take her tops off. She pulled both shirts off in one motion and stood with nothing on except for her chest wrap.

Suddenly the flap of the tepee was thrown aside and the warrior stomped in holding a large knife in his hand. He glared at Mayme as he strode to her in two long strides.

“O-yem-fat-sup.”

Mayme didn’t move, and he grabbed the front of her wrapping in one fist and cleanly sliced through it with the knife. The material fell away to her feet, and Mayme instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.

The warrior threw his head back, laughed, and pointed at Mayme’s breasts. “Bizi.” He promptly turned around and strode out of the tepee.

Mayme swallowed audibly. Something brushed her arm. She turned and found Ponzo-bert holding her shirts.

Ponzo-bert nodded. “Ca’iju.”

Mayme heard more laughter outside as she slipped her shirts over her head. It seemed that they had wanted to find out if she was a girl or a boy. Hopefully being a girl would keep her safe. She most certainly didn’t want to have the same demise as Billy.

Even though she had no idea of what her fate might be, an unexpected release of tension allowed her to breathe freer. She pressed a palm to her heart and closed her eyes for a moment.

A dog barked outside the tepee and she heard horses neighing in the distance. A pang of guilt brought a tear to her eye. She’d completely forgotten about Duster and Red. Where were they? Did her captors bring them along? Or were they left to fend for themselves in the frigid mountains. She had to find out.

Mayme took a step toward the door. But the Indian woman grabbed her coat collar.

“Osh-Tisch!”

The warrior flung the entrance flap open and stormed inside. He glared at Mayme, sending her heart racing once again. But this time, instead of a knife, he held a length of rope in his hand. He knotted the ends around each ankle, allowing a short bit in between which would allow her to take short steps. If she had any thoughts of running away, they’d been sufficiently dashed.

Osh-Tisch stood to his full height in front of her. The look in his eyes dared her to try something, anything. She averted her eyes in submission. He grunted and walked out; apparently satisfied he had deterred any escape.

“Yetwitigi.”

Mayme shook her head. “I don’t understand.” She showed her palms and shrugged.

“Yetwitigi.” The young girl patted the buffalo robe she was sitting on. “Yetwitigi.”

Mayme shuffled, because that was all she could do, over next to the girl. She crouched down, braced herself with her hands, and sat down clumsily.

The girl nodded and turned her attention to the hide in her lap. It was tan colored and looked to be very supple and soft. She used a short knife to cut fringe.

Mayme made note of the knife. She might have an opportunity to use it to cut off her bindings.

As if reading her thoughts, the girl looked her in the eyes, shook her head, and made a cutting motion across her neck.

There was no misunderstanding the meaning. Mayme would be killed if she attempted an escape.

“Tekkahpaitseh.” Ponzo-bert offered her a strap of meat. “Natekkat-i.”

Mayme looked at the young girl who made a chewing motion and rubbed her belly. It seemed they were trying to tell her the meat was good. She took the proffered meat and put an end in her mouth. She instantly recognized the flavour as venison. Her mouth watered in response and she wondered how long it’d been since she’d last eaten. Time had slipped away in the storm. She had no memory between the time she fell asleep in the snow and when she had awoken and discovered she’d been found.

They said no more to her for the duration of the day. Mayme was surprised to see darkness beyond the tepee flap when Osh-Tisch returned. She’d lost all sense of time.

Osh-Tisch avoided looking at her at all. As far as Mayme was concerned, she wasn’t there at all.

Ponzo-bert prepared four bowls of food, handing one each to the girl, old woman, and Osh-Tisch before sitting next to him. They all ignored her while they ate.

Mayme stole glances at them. Her stomach demanded more than the small strap of meat she’d been given earlier. But nothing else was offered.

Later, the women started arranging the buffalo hides in preparation for sleeping. Osh-Tisch took Mayme by the arm and pulled her up. He pointed to the flap. She made the mistake of hesitating. He shoved her gruffly toward the opening. The slack between her ankles disappeared and she nearly fell face forward. He made no move to help her.

Once outside, Osh-Tisch led her to the far side of the village. She felt sick with fear. Was this it then? Her time to die? Had he decided she wasn’t valuable enough? Goose bumps peppered her flesh and her teeth chattered. She regretted not grabbing her coat on the way out. But if he was going to kill her, what did it matter?

He tugged her to a stop next to a tree. As he stared hard into her eyes, he moved his loincloth to the side and urinated in the snow. He finished and jutted his chin toward her. “Naadoihu.” He pointed at the yellow snow and then her.

Mayme had had to pee for hours, but she wasn’t keen on doing it in front of a man, let alone this one. Although she couldn’t see she had much of a choice.  But she sure wasn’t going to bare her bum to him. She unbuttoned her trousers and slid them down as she crouched. She nearly wept with relief as her urine began to flow.

Osh-Tisch pushed her back into the tepee, and she was immediately grateful for the warmth that washed over her. To her surprise, the tepee was much warmer than Mr. Smart’s house even with a fire blazing all night long. Of course it was smaller, but there’d been mornings when she’d seen her breath when she woke.

“Ah-be-guy.” Osh-Tisch pointed to the buffalo hide on the opposite side of the opening. He got down on his knees, glanced at Ponzo-bert, laid down, and pulled a hide over him.

Mayme felt all eyes on her as she carefully made her way over. She was terrified of falling into the fire. She doubted anyone would help her.

She sat down on the hide and stretched her legs in front of her.

“Tukkwan.” Ponzo-bert lifted a side of the hide Mayme sat on and indicated with a horizontal chopping motion that she should lay between both hides.

Mayme averted her eyes and smiled graciously. Once she adjusted her bound legs beneath the hide and convinced herself she wouldn’t be killed in the night, she took a deep breath and relaxed. It wasn’t long before she heard the deep breathing of sleep from the others.

In the dim light, she took advantage of being the only one awake. She’d kept her gaze downward to show submission for the majority of the time she’d been in the tepee. Up until now, she’d not had an opportunity to take a good look around.

The round-shaped tepee was very spacious with an open area a little off-centered at the top to let the smoke out. The majority of the floor was covered with buffalo hides, but there were also deer, sheep, and elk skins.

Pouches made of buffalo hide hung from the poles. The few times Mayme had dared to glance up, she’d seen Ponzo-bert and the girl get tools, leggings, and several handfuls of what looked like dried berries from the various pouches. The straps of meat had been retrieved from the birch bark boxes on the floor beneath the bags. An elaborately painted warrior’s shield, a lance, and bow and arrows hung to the right of it all, and directly above where Osh-Tisch now slept. A fur bag and another very small pouch were suspended near his head. The tepee was nicely and efficiently laid out. The absence of furniture did nothing to detract from the hominess.

Osh-Tisch snorted in his sleep. Mayme watched to see if he was going to wake up and catch her looking around. Now that he had sufficiently warned, more like intimidated, her about the consequences should she attempt an escape, she came to the conclusion that she’d have to abide by their rules and lifestyle until such time she was rescued. Until then, she reasoned, she’d have to pretend she was staying with strangers. Except for her legs being tied. She hoped that wouldn’t last long.