The steady rain continued on through the night, but the lightning and thunder had ceased, and the roads, while beginning to turn to mud, were still passable. With the coming of dawn, I knew I needed to find a place to pull off the road and out of sight for the day. I was still too close to the village to take a chance on traveling by day. The land was not flat here nor was it full of high hills, but rather low rolling hills. It was also more prairie-like than forested, and so, my hopes of finding a place to stop for the day in some type of cover was beginning to feel rather slim. As the soft gray of dawn was just beginning, I spotted what looked to be a much taller hill ahead. I could tell the horses were tiring and felt sorry for them. They were no more used to traveling all night than I was. I knew how sore my hind-end had become from sitting hunched in the rain most of the night. The homewagon had an overhang which kept much of the rain off, but not all, and I had not taken time to rig the side curtains. I was glad of that for they surely would have been in shreds after the narrow passage through the trees.
As I drew nearer to what I had thought was going to be a tall hill, I realized that what I was looking at was a grove of very tall trees, and the road I was on skirted around it to the west. I slowed the horses to a mere crawl and looked to my left to see if there was an opening in the trees that might lead to a campsite. About a third of the way along, sure enough, a break appeared, and a grass-covered track led into the trees. I pulled the horses to a stop and stood, prepared to climb down from the driver’s bench. I sat abruptly down. There was not a muscle in my body that did not scream or protest that movement. I think all of my joints had frozen.
Very cautiously, I tried to stand up again. It was not a whole lot better. I heard Carz pawing at the door, so I opened it and let him out. He came over and leaned against me which almost toppled me over. I slowly turned and sank my hands into his fur, coveting the warmth radiating out from his body. He kindly tolerated my ice cold hands for a small while, then shook off the morning mist that was gathering on his fur, and jumped to the ground. Carz looked over his shoulder, took a few steps down the grassy track, stopped, and looked back at me again with a look that seemed to suggest that I was being a slug and needed to get moving. With what felt like every joint in my body popping and crackling, I climbed down and followed him. It seemed best to see where this track led before taking the horses and the homewagon down it. No sense getting caught in a dead end and having to somehow back out.
The grassy track gently curved to the right and ended in a clearing large enough to turn the homewagon around. A fire ring was present, though no wood had been left, as was often the custom in these off road camping places. Carz did not seem nervous or disturbed by this place, so I felt it might be our best choice for a place to stop. I turned, walked back to the homewagon, and brought it down to the clearing. By now the rain had stopped, and even beneath the trees, there was just enough light to work by. I first put up a clothesline between several of the trees and hung the cloth and soft leather we had used to muffle the sounds of the horses out to dry. I unharnessed Flick and Clover and staked them out to graze, after rubbing them dry and placing blankets over them. I then painfully climbed back up into the homewagon and changed into my night shirt. I really had very little energy left so I just draped my wet clothes, cloak, and boots off the driver’s bench and hoped they would dry before nightfall. I also hoped it would not rain again. Carz pawed at the door, so I let him in and began to crawl into bed, but Carz got there before me and blocked my way.
“Come on fur brain, I need to sleep. I’m exhausted. Let me into the bed.”
Carz did not budge. I had fed him, so that could not be it. He had been outside and had had a chance to relieve himself. I had put out water. What more did he need? After all, he had spent the night curled up in my bed from the looks of the hair he had left on my blanket. Did he think this was his bed now?
“Hey, this is my bed,” I told him.
I was willing to share, but I was not giving my space up, and I was certainly not going to sleep in Da’s bed. It was all made up waiting for him, so no way was I going to sleep there. While I was thinking this through, Carz jumped off the bed and went to paw at what I thought of, in my mind, as the Neebing door.
Sometimes I wonder just how smart this hunting cat, who has chosen to share his life with mine, really is. Chagrined that I had not remembered the Neebings, I turned and reached into the cupboard above Da’s bed and pulled down one of the small wooden boxes. Since it had been raining, I chose a small gray waterproof cloak. I then opened the Neebing doors and placed the cloak on the floor. I opened the side panel and slowly began to turn the crank to let the telescoping tube down to the ground. When it felt like the tube would go no farther, I closed the small door and the panel and walked back to my bed. Carz was curled up at the end fast asleep. So was I, as soon as my head hit the pillow.
When I awoke, it was mid-afternoon. This was going to be the riskiest time of the day for someone else might decide to camp here for the night, and I would be stuck here for another night, for I would be hard pressed to think up a reason I had camped here at what they would assume was the end of a long day’s travel only to pack up and leave again. If I left now, I still faced the risk of running into someone who might know me. There was not much I could do standing here in my night shirt, and no use worrying, so I headed towards the stairs up to the driver’s bench when I remembered the Neebing door. I stood in front of it for a very long time having an internal debate with myself. What if I opened it and found nothing? Would that prove to me once and for all that Neebings were just a grand story my parents had created, or just that I had not camped in a place where Neebings lived? What if I opened it and there had been something left? Did that mean that Neebings were real, or that Da had been here? But if Da had been here while I slept, would he not have knocked and awakened me? What if I had slept through Da trying to get my attention, and he was outside?
With that thought, I rushed up the steps, flung open the door, and climbed out, Carz quickly following. The campsite was empty except for Flick and Clover who were contentedly chomping on tender spring grass. I could hear birds singing, rustling in the trees made by squirrels or other small creatures, but no other sounds. Carz was not in his alert stance. I felt I was alone except for the animals, and so I went back into the homewagon. Now I still faced the dilemma of whether or not there really were any such things as Neebings.
I had grabbed my now dry clothes from the driver’s bench and my rain cloak. I hung it on the back of the door, so I would have easy access should it start to rain again, and got dressed. I figured I would do those chores that needed to be done such as gather firewood, water and groom the horses, check the harnesses and give them a good coating of oil to protect them from another soaking, check the homewagon in the light of day to make sure everything had survived the rough passage through Aunt Heddy’s field and the tree tunnel. Then, of course, I needed to check the cart out to make sure everything was secure still and nothing had shifted. I should probably make a meal for Carz and me, and anything else I could think of to delay the opening of that little door.
I only made a very small fire, and Carz and I had a hot meal. After dinner, I put the fire out with a mixture of water and sand. I wanted to make sure it was cool before I left so if anyone came shortly after me, they would not suspect someone had camped here during the day. Fortunately, because of the previous night’s rain, much of earth in the campsite had held its moisture and a wet fire scar would not be out of place.
By the time I finished with all of the chores, the shadows were beginning to lengthen within the ring of trees I had camped in. Firewood was stacked for the next group, and I was feeling ready to face getting on the road again. One more night of travel, barring nasty weather, should bring us within a half day’s journey to the small village of Treebles. Da’s journal indicated it had a market day on the fourth day of the week. This day was the second day of the week, so if I could travel all night, sleep half the next day, I would arrive in the village the afternoon before the market. That would give me enough time to find out where to set up and get ready for market, which always started early in the morning.
My last task was to check the Neebing door. I had put it off as long as possible since I needed to crank the tube back up into place before I moved the homewagon. The horses were ready, Carz was sitting up on the driver’s bench looking for all the world like he was impatient to get going, everything else was done. Slowly I opened the door and looked inside. The small rain cloak was still there. I closed the door and tried to get a handle on how I felt. Disappointed, sad, not surprised, or just as confused as ever? It was a mystery I would not solve standing there, so I joined Carz up front and signaled the horses it was time to move.
Though I had left late afternoon, because I was afraid that a late traveler would decide to spend the night in the campsite we had just left, I met no traffic on the road for the first several hours. Beginning to think I had made the right decision, I relaxed into the rhythm of the ride, the steady clip clop of the horse’s hooves, the slight breeze keeping the bugs away, when Carz suddenly sat up, ears perked. I pulled the horses to a stop and listened. In the distance I could hear the sounds of one or more horses rapidly moving toward us. Once again, I was traveling through the rolling prairie land, and there were no convenient trees or a large boulder to hide behind. Nowhere to go but forward.
I started forward at a normal pace, opened the top half of the door into the homewagon and told Carz to get inside but stay alert, pulled my hat low, and hoped for the best. At least I was not meeting up with folk in the full dark, for they would have wondered why I was traveling without lights. It was still too early to need them. My stomach began to ache, and by the time what turned out to be three riders approached moving fast, the muscles in my shoulders felt like they would, with very little effort, snap in two. I pulled my homewagon to the edge of the roadway. As they approached, I raised my hand in greeting as was the custom, hoping against hope that they would travel by. To my very great relief, they did, barely acknowledging my presence. Once they were past, one of the riders slowed and looked as if he or she, I could not make out which, were going to turn around and head back, but the lead rider signaled that they should all continue ahead. I hoped they would not change their minds as I urged the horses forward at a steady pace. Something about that trio made me nervous.