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Authors: Janette Oke

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BOOK: [Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm
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He did not wait for her answer. He dipped his head in her direction as he replaced the hat and walked down the wooden . steps without looking back.
The camping trip was a huge success in everyone’s eyes but Henry’s. Ever, in the back of his mind, were the sad eyes of the little boy when he had reported that the mission had failed.
“Maybe Papa Sam will get better enough to take me,” Danny had finally said with chin trembling, his head dipping forward to hide the tears that threatened to come.
Henry had nodded. With the help of the root tea, Sam Martin had been slowly but steadily improving—but he had a long way to go before he’d be ready to take his grandson into the wilderness.
“Hey,” he’d said to Danny, trying hard to sound cheerful. “There’ll be lots of camping trips.” He gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder. It hadn’t been much consolation. Henry knew it was hard for a boy to wait.
But the rest all had a marvelous time. Three fish were caught and promptly prepared to cook over the open fire. Though the meal was a bit charred—since Mr. Taylor was manning the frying pan and had no experience with open-fire cooking—the boys declared it the best they had ever eaten. They washed their supper down with water from a little spring. Slowly the sun set and the coyotes began to call. Henry noticed a few of the boys crowding in a little closer to the adults in the group, but for the most part they didn’t seem to be spooked by the eerie sound.
They had fun trying to point out the different constellations as Henry identified them. “Wow,” they said over and over, seeming to be looking at the night heavens for the first time. They’d had no idea that the stars had names.
The adrenaline had been pumping pretty fast, and it took a while to get them all bedded down and quiet. Once they did settle in, it didn’t take long for sleep to come.
Henry wasn’t sure who was the first one up in the morning. He was an early riser, but the camp was already astir when he opened his eyes. The sun was not even up yet. He crawled from his blankets, rubbing his hands together as he moved to stoke up the morning fire. It was chilly in the foothills, spring or not. None of the boys seemed to have suffered any, he noticed. They were running and pushing and pulling and kicking and tumbling about. If they hadn’t been warm overnight, they would certainly soon be warm again now.
He smiled and held a match to the dry grass to start the flames.
“Can we fish again?” asked an eager voice at his elbow.
“Today is the nature hike,” Henry responded.
The boy groaned, making it clear he’d rather fish.
“Look,” said Henry, “if you want to be a woodsman, you need to know all about the outdoors.”
That seemed to satisfy the youngster. He ran off to inform the others that they were going to learn how to be woodsmen. A cheer went up.
Henry did not take them on too long a hike. He knew that even though they were active, they were not used to long treks up and down hills. They spent their time looking and learning—about the grass, the shrubbery, the rock formations, the wildlife. A bull elk even did them the honor of making an appearance. His rack of majestic antlers held high, he tested the air to see if he should be concerned over the presence of the intruders. He did not sound an alarm, just shook his powerful head and marched back into a grove of small poplars and out of sight.
By the time they returned to camp, the boys were weary, and no one argued about resting while the men prepared a noon meal. Henry took his turn at the frying pan. The mouth-watering aroma of frying bacon filled the campsite.
Even as the group rolled up blankets and sorted out belongings, the boys were making plans for their next trip. Henry had to nip in the bud the exuberant plans for another such adventure the following weekend. “Whoa,” he stopped them, smiling in spite of himself. “A man has to work for a living, you know.”
“When can we do it again?” several voices asked in noisy chorus.
“I’ll check the roster and let you know,” he promised.
In truth, he would enjoy such an outing almost as much as the boys.
If only Danny would be allowed ...
Henry’s sadness was not dispelled the next morning at church when all of the boys were excitedly telling of their camping trip—the fish they’d caught and the stars they could name and the food they’d eaten and the hike they’d gone on—a sad-faced Danny listening, close to tears.
Then they were saying they were going camping again. The sergeant had said so. Just as soon as he had some time off. “Maybe when you grow up you can come too,” noted a boy named Tom to Danny. Henry saw the little chin tremble. He wasn’t sure if the older boy had intended consolation or meant to be mean. Either way it had the same effect.
Henry clamped his jaw and started down the walk toward home. He’d try again. He had to, for Danny’s sake.
He didn’t call her first. Just showed up on her porch and rapped on the door. She was wearing an apron over her Sunday dress, a large fork in her hand. He could smell chicken frying.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your Sunday,” he began quickly. “I promise not to keep you long.”
She nodded. “You’ll have to wait while I set the chicken back off the heat.”
He nodded agreement and crossed over to his assigned porch chair.
She did not keep him waiting for long, and when she came back she still wore the apron. He rose to his feet, hat in his hands, twisting it round and round in his fingers.
“I’m sure you heard all the talk this morning—among the boys, I mean.”
She smiled. “Who could miss it?”
“They had themselves a great time,” he admitted.
“I congratulate you.”
That wasn’t what he had meant. Wasn’t what he had wanted to hear.
“That’s just boys,” he was quick to amend. “They love that kind of outing.”
Her silence and closed expression said more than words.
“I was just wondering ... I mean ... Danny was pretty disappointed ... I wondered ...”
She looked to be immediately on the defensive. He saw her shoulders stiffen. “He’s not going off with your boys,” she said.
“No ... not that. I just was wondering if it’d make any difference if I took him ... alone. So I could watch him full-time. Just the two ...” He slowed to a stop when he saw her chin begin to tremble. “Look,” she managed to say, “I know you can’t understand this. I’ve already lost his father. Do you think I would risk
any
chance of losing him?”
So that was it. She was frightened. Frightened to death of something happening to Danny.
Seeing her there, her face pale, contorted by emotion and painful memories, he wanted to reach for her again. To hold her as he had before. To try to bring comfort. She must still be in deep grief. If only she would let someone ease the sorrow.
He could not move. Could not speak. He swallowed. She had said he couldn’t understand. But he did. For years he had shared her pain night after miserable night. He had ached for her. Even shed tears for her. Had prayed that she might find healing.
But he could say none of this now. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m really sorry.”
CHAPTER
Nineteen
“Where’s Laray?”
“We got a call from that rancher about the bear. It’s taken some more calves.”
“Laray went out to check on it?”
“They’re going to take a ride through the back country. See if they can find traces. Maybe where it dens.”
“Likely doesn’t bother with a den this time of year. Just ranges. ”
“Well, they’re going to see what they can find.”
“Did he take his rifle?” Henry wanted to know. A marauding bear could be a formidable foe.
“He took it. The rancher is going to ride with him. In case something happens, there will be someone to cover.”
Henry skimmed through the reports that had come in the post.
Nothing much here that I need to concern myself with, he
thought.
All city stuff.
He decided to take a ride to check out a complaint from a farmer that someone had snipped one of his fences. He hoped it wasn’t true. Maybe a wild animal or some other natural phenomenon broke the wire. But upon close observation, he realized it had indeed been done with wire cutters. He spent some time looking for any clues that might give him a lead, helped the farmer restring the area, and headed back to town to write up his report. They’d have to watch, this carefully. Cutting fences was akin to stealing—and there was never a legitimate reason to do so.
Henry had just grabbed a bite at Jessie’s when Rogers came through the door. Henry knew without asking that something was wrong. He was on his feet before he’d even set down his coffee cup.
“It’s Laray,” said Rogers, his face and voice strained.
“He found the bear?”
“It found him. He’s mauled—pretty bad.”
Henry did not even pause to grab his Stetson. “Where is he?” he asked as they went for the door.
“The rancher has him in his truck. He’ll be coming through here on his way to the hospital. Wanted to know if someone would want to travel along.”
“Of course,” said Henry. “Meet me at the office.”
He nearly ran to the building that housed the detachment, his mind in a whirl. What needed to be done? What could he do? He picked up the phone and dialed the operator. “Get me the hospital,” he said crisply. “Emergency.”
There was little he could tell the medical people. Only that they would be heading in with a patient who had been mauled by a bear. He had no idea what the injuries were—only that they were said to be serious.
By the time he hung up the phone, Rogers was there. He had retrieved Henry’s Stetson.
“I’m going to wait out on Main Street,” Henry said. “You keep a lid on things here.”
He did not have to wait long until the dust of the rancher’s truck signaled the dreaded arrival. The vehicle was traveling far too fast, but Henry was not going to take issue over that.
“He’s in the back,” called the rancher as soon as he had slowed enough for Henry to leap to the running board. Henry swung himself up and over the stock racks. What he saw made him feel sick.
Laray was bedded on a blanket thrown over straw. His face was so bloodied he was barely recognizable. One arm dangled at a crazy angle, a blood-covered mass protruding from the shreds of a torn jacket and shirt. Henry steeled himself, fighting down the urge to heave.
He knelt in the straw and reached out to the young man’s good shoulder. “Laray. It’s Delaney. We’re going to get you some help.”
The truck hit a wash in the road and nearly sent Henry sprawling. He struggled to regain his balance and spoke again. “Just hang on, friend. We’ll get you there as soon as we can. Hang on.”
The young man’s eyelids fluttered ever so lightly—the only response.
Henry felt panic. “Hang on,” he said again. “Just hold on. Fight, man. Fight.”
“I ... can’t” came the muffled reply. Henry was both relieved and frightened. Relieved that Laray was still conscious. Frightened because it seemed he had already given up.
“Yes. Yes, you can. You’ll make it. Just hang in there.”
A small movement of the man’s head looked like a refusal.
“Listen,” said Henry, grasping him by the uninjured hand. “My father ... my father was out on patrol, and a madman ... with a knife ... jumped him. The guy lashed out at him, catching his leg. He made three big gashes before Dad could subdue him. He managed to tie the fellow to his sled and head his team for home. By then he’d already lost too much blood. He should have died. Never should have made it. But he thought about us—and he wouldn’t give up. By the time he staggered into the post, he was almost unconscious.
“We thought we’d lose him even then. But he kept fighting. Kept praying—”
“I can’t pray.” The man’s voice was so low Henry could barely pick up the words. Henry remembered the trip through the storm when the young man had said he let his mother do the praying for him. So at least he knew about prayer, about faith.
BOOK: [Canadian West 05] - Beyond the Gathering Storm
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