Back To Our Beginning (28 page)

Outside, the weather was warming. The snow had vanished and the men had gone hunting. They brought Shanie along to teach her to hunt, and she was very surprised to find it was exciting. At first, the idea of killing Bambi was disturbing, until Ethan reminded her he was a fictional character and one her children would never have the opportunity to watch on TV. Though saddened, it was a sobering thought. She followed them, listening patiently to their advice; she needed to stay low, move stealthily and remain very quiet.

“And downwind,” Clint told her. Much to his exasperation, Shanie punched him in the arm then made a comment about putting her own foot in his mouth.

“All’s I meant was deer got a good sense a smell,” Clint began then smiled cheekily. “And you don’t got feet, you got canoes.” Clint grabbed her fist in mid-flight and spun her around until her arm was high up behind her back, his teasing smile gone. He also held a secure hand over her mouth and shushed her. All sense of play aside, he leaned in closely then whispered into her ear to look over to her left.

“Your other left,” he hissed.

Shanie felt his hand turn her head and she saw a doe. Distressed, she looked up at him, a pleading expression in her frantic gaze, her free hand clasped his arm tugging at the hand held over her mouth. Clint knew she would have cried out her distress, ruining their chance. Clint knew what she was thinking and released her arm to put it around her while capturing the other, both wrists secured within one large hand. With his other hand over her mouth he explained as gently as he could while holding her.

“If we take pity on her jist ’cause she’s pregnant, we could hunt all day and miss out on our only chance. Do you want Mike to go hungry?” Shanie cast her gaze down and sadly shook her head. Clint released her mouth and wrists then held her tight; they watched as the other two men took aim. Shanie returned Clint’s strong grasp just as tightly, staying silent.

It was over in seconds. The deer lay on the ground dead, a pool of her blood forming as Aidan slit her throat. Shanie turned away and allowed Clint to place her head against his chest as he held her. The obvious movements and kicks could be seen from the doe’s belly as her young one struggled to live. It was too much for the young girl. Though she was strong and strong willed, the laws of nature were at times unfair ones.

The men allowed Shanie to wander off a little ways as they did the arduous task of removing the fetus from its womb. Aidan slit the tiny wet throat after a moment’s hesitation. While they found a sturdy branch to use as a pole to carry the deer back, Shanie wandered farther. She breathed deeply trying to rid her thoughts of the painful impressions and stopped to lean against a large cluster of rocks. Jumping back, Shanie looked at her palm full of surprise then again reached out a tentative hand. The rock was hot, it wasn’t her imagination.

Shanie walked around the pile of rocks, wondering what on earth could make it so hot. Though the sun was shining the air was still chilled. Searching halfway around she noticed an opening big enough for her to crawl through. She looked up but noticed the men were busy with the doe and not paying her any attention. She leaned forward to peer into the small dark cave, she screamed and, terrified, tried to pull back, but a large hand grasped her wrist.

As Shanie continued to struggle backwards the man slowly emerged after her. The effort proved to be too much for him and he collapsed face first into the ground. Shanie, still screaming, continued to back up crab-like until she collided with two solid legs. Spinning, she grabbed at Aidan’s pants to pull herself up and, with his aid was soon standing shakily in his embrace, her face half buried within his coat.

Clint approached the prone figure and nudged him with his boot. The man moaned but remained unconscious. With Ethan’s help they pulled on his clothing and rolled him over.

“Cord!” Clint shouted. He was filthy; a month’s worth of beard was caked in dirt around his chin. “He’s hurt bad,” Clint said, his gaze shooting from Ethan to Aidan in panic. “We need to get him back to the mine.”

The others helped Clint get Cord into a fireman’s lift. Clint was a big man, but even though Cord was bigger, Clint immediately noticed Cord had lost a great deal of weight. That had him in motion. Clint raced back to the mine leaving Aidan and Ethan to retrieve the doe and gave Shanie the undesirable task of carrying its lifeless baby.

* * * *

“Tansy!” Clint was calling.

A terrifying thought crossed Tansy’s mind that something awful had happened to Shanie. Tansy stood stunned then cleared the way before Clint ran over her to one of the bear rug beds. He then unceremoniously dumped Cord down and demanded she ‘fix’ him.

“Cord...it’s Cord,” Tansy whispered. She was startled when he opened his befuddled eyes and gazed at her for a moment with recognition, until he again fell unconscious.

“What’s wrong with him?” Clint ran a hand over his long hair. He was so agitated Tansy asked him to get her some of the clean rags and warm water to keep him busy. The others crowded closer, curiously.

With her own hands shaking, Tansy began undoing Cord’s clothing and became distressed at all the bruising on his arms and torso. With his numerous tattoos she didn’t know where a bruise began or stopped. She sat back on her heels horrified and frightened. Cord looked as though he had been beaten brutally. That such a large and powerful man could look so abused and...thin; he looked so much thinner than what she remembered.

“Oh, shit,” Clint said, taking in a sharp breath and exhaling while gazing down at Cord’s prone body. He pleadingly looked at Tansy, the raw grief so profound on his face made her heart ache for him. “Please,” he asked, “help him.”

Before she could answer, Aidan and the others returned. Shanie placed the baby fawn down then surprised everyone by pulling a scraggly puppy out of her backpack. He was painfully thin, exhausted and overjoyed to see them and he cried pitifully when he was reunited with a very excited Michaela, slumping in her arms with obvious relief. Shanie and Emmy watched the younger children and did their best to supervise a cold dinner between them and the puppy. Meanwhile, the others sat skeptically.

“I’m not sure what to do,” Tansy stammered, she cast a pleading glance to Aidan but he returned it equally dismayed.

“I only know basic first-aid,” Aidan told her, survival and tracking being his main area of expertise. Tansy then looked to Ethan, but before he could respond Clint was already shaking his head.

“Don’t look at him, his wife died a somethin’.” Casting Clint an angry glare, Ethan clamped his lips shut.

“Maybe my book has some herbal remedies,” Tansy offered.

Paling, Clint shuddered. “Please Tansy don’t give him your tea, he looks bad enough.”

Ignoring Clint, Tansy retrieved her book on flowers both edible and medicinal. Thumbing through the book, Tansy jumped up and retrieved the white little flower Michaela brought for her. Tansy looked from the book to the wilted flower and back to the book.

“I think this is yarrow,” she said.

Looking at the little white flowers and dark feathery leaves Aidan began to nod. “It says you can use an infusion that helps fevers and colds. It also helps blood clots and lowers blood pressure,” Aidan read aloud.

“Maybe you should make extra for me,” Ethan mumbled, still upset over Clint’s callous comment.

“It says birch helps bruises if you infuse the leaves.” Tansy voiced a thought; “Do the trees have any leaves yet?”

“A few,” Aidan replied.

“This water mint I’ve seen before, growing near a lake when we vacationed in this area.” Tansy showed a picture to Ethan and sent him off to find a purplish stemmed flower with clusters of pinkish flowers and pointed oval leaves.

“What’s it do?” Clint asked.

“If you make an infusion of the leaves it helps to induce perspiration in fevers,” she answered.

“You wanna what?”

“Just go look for birch leaves,” Tansy told him, already exasperated. After he took off, Tansy looked at Aidan fearfully.

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing your best”

“What I wouldn’t give for an aspirin,” she said.

“I don’t think an aspirin is likely to help this poor guy,” Aidan told her.

“Not for him, for me!” she wailed and dropped her head into her hands.

Aidan grasped her hands then released them and stood to leave, an intense expression on his face.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“I remember something about the bark of a willow tree. I think it helps pain,” Aidan told her, and shot off like a rabbit leaving Tansy alone with her patient.

She began by washing dirt and filth away with warm water, a cloth and some of her soap. She removed his tattered shirt, noting his jacket was no longer in existence, and bathed his bruises and cuts. The intricate tattoo designs captured her attention momentarily as the grime washed away. She hadn’t seen these tats before; then again, it was too cold to walk shirtless when they were together last. His body felt cold to the touch, yet his face was warm, as well as the deep purple and red nasty bruising on the flesh by his ribs. She wrapped heated rocks within towels placing them next to his hands and feet.

Once finished she covered his body with a clean linen from her bed. As she tucked the blanket up around his shoulders he began to stir and opened his eyes. He blinked hard trying to focus, his gaze centered on her with relieved recognition.

“You smell good,” Cord rasped.

“You don’t,” she replied.

“Got some fries for that vinegar?” he said and laughed then coughed until he could hardly breathe, clutching his sides and moaning.

“Oh Cord, what happened?” Tansy said and wiped his face again to remove the spittle.

“Flood swept me far, all bruised up and could barely walk, couldn’t hunt. Met up with a man who would’ve eaten me if he could.”

Tansy shuddered then held his head while she spooned warmed broth into his mouth. Cord ate it eagerly enough then begged her for more, but Tansy hesitated. She told him they would wait for a little while until she was sure he could keep down the little she gave him. After she prepared the yarrow, she gave him some of that to drink; he grimaced, but did as she asked. When that stayed down as well, Tansy rewarded him with more food, although only a few spoonfuls.

Cord was sleeping when the others returned. Clint approached her anxiously and stuffed the birch buds into her hands. After checking on Cord to make sure he was still alive and offering up a stern warning about her tea, Clint began the task of cleaning the doe and her young one. Neither Aidan nor Ethan returned successful. Tansy knew she would go out again to look. She decided then and there looking at Cord’s battered body she didn’t want to ever feel so helpless again. She would learn everything there was to learn about herbal medicine, she knew she had to.

It was a long night filled with taking turns watching over Cord. They bathed his face and torso, drying him afterward, covering him quickly. They painstakingly built up the three fires, careful not to leave his body exposed to the cool night air. They fed him small bits of warm broth and cool sips of water every half hour, battling to control his dehydration, judging time by specifically gathered logs of equal size, and the length at which they burned. They took great pains to wake him, as he jumped with trepidation at loud voices, and encouraged him with helpful words to fight hard.

For all his bruising and scratches and weight loss, Tansy felt he would recover. His spirit was strong, even death wouldn’t command this man. Tansy garnered new respect for him and she wanted him to live. To her it would be a victory over nature. With determination, Tansy picked up her ragtag book on flowers and roots and set out to learn about each and every one of them.

When morning came, Tansy found Clint spooning more broth into Cord’s eager mouth.

“Ask Tansy to do it,” she heard Cord complain.

“She’s sleepin’ and I can.”

“You shovel food in my mouth like I’m in a pie eating contest.”

“’Parently not if you can still talk.”

“Not too much,” Tansy warned and took the bowl from Clint. She didn’t want Cord to vomit. By the looks of his bruising, a rib could be broken, perhaps more. She had no idea what to do for broken ribs.

“Damn, the food police.” Cord growled.

“He needs a bath.”

“Yes, he does,” Tansy agreed.

“Well, I’ll ask the others to help haul up some water from the stream,” Clint said, rising.

After the snow melted, they found a large stream close to the mine that ran down to the lake. It was easier to bring the water from there, but Tansy wondered if it would dry up in the summer; she was unsure of its depth. But she had to admit a bath was a good idea. Cord looked bad but smelled worse, and with all of the men helping he shouldn’t be too jostled.

“You gonna soap my back?” Cord asked Tansy with a sleazy grin.

“No, but I could make you some tea,” she answered and laughed as Clint gave a howl of anguish and emphatically shook his head at Cord.

“That bad, eh?” Cord asked.

“Remember Granny’s elixir?” Clint asked him wide-eyed.

“Damn, you’re still mean, Vinegar.”

“You’d do well to remember that.”

With the help of the other men, they soon had Cord bathed, shaved and back in bed in no time, covered over with warm blankets, his body almost nude. There was no clothing available that fit his large frame without constricting his movements. His other items had been, for the most part, unsalvageable, except for his undergarments that were hanging to dry after being washed and the pair of ratty, hole riddled jeans he insisted on wearing until his undergarments were dry. They all decided the first order of the recently killed doe would go toward a serviceable pair of pants for him that Tansy and Emmy would tailor. Emmy had already pulled apart two shirts found in one of the houses, her intention was to piece them together to make one large shirt for Cord.

Tansy was then spooning more broth into his mouth. Although Cord noted a more subdued Shanie, Emmy crept up and thanked him for saving her life, but he had to laugh at Michaela’s unrestrained gratitude toward him for returning her puppy. He hadn’t even minded she still referred to him as General Cord.