Starfish (14 page)

N
EWS FROM THE
O
UTPOST
• L
IONEL'S
F
EATHER
• T
HE
B
EST OF
T
IMES
• T
HE
R
ETURN OF
T
OM
G
UNN

THEIR GRANDFATHER
had been wandering the foothills and mountains for a week, trying to shake the scouts that the army post had sent to the Milk River to spy on him. He did this for two days and then circled back after what would appear to have been a satisfactory hunt but was actually a concerted attempt to keep the government men guessing as to what his recent forays into the mountains were really about. By his third attempt, he had successfully lost them within a day, but he'd continued to wander for the past week to ensure that they weren't following him to the lodge in the meadow.

Lionel was so happy to see his grandfather that he felt as though he had actually flown from the crooked door to where Grandpa sat with Mr. Hawkins at the fire.

“I see yer still growin',” Grandpa laughed, as Beatrice, Corn Poe, and Junebug joined them. “I might have mistaken you for a wild band of lowdown dirty renegades if I didn't know better.

“And you,” Grandpa said, placing his big hand on Corn Poe's head, “I should'a known I'd find you here.”

Corn Poe squirmed joyously from the attention.

“Why didn't y'all tell me you was his kin?” Mr. Hawkins asked, handing their grandfather a tin cup of coffee.

“Hell, I've known ol' Avery John Hawkins since before all of you were even born,” Grandpa said, accepting the coffee.

Grandpa explained that he and Mr. Hawkins knew each other a long time ago when Mr. Hawkins first came to Montana with the government. Then he told Mr. Hawkins about the troubles that waited for them below, and that Mr. Hawkins was sworn to secrecy, to which Hawkins nodded.

Grandpa informed them all that the government was still frantically searching for the prize horse Ulysses, despite the approaching winter. Grandpa suspected that the search was being spearheaded and driven by Jenkins and Lumpkin.

Rumors were circulating through the outpost that a group of boys from Heart Butte had supposedly seen the horse, but that last they heard, Beatrice and Lionel were heading to Canada. This led to an exhaustive search that yielded little result, leaving Sergeant Jenkins more irate and suspicious than ever. Grandpa also said that the reward for the return of the horse had been raised to $100 cash money, and that this had him concerned as to what their next move should be.

Corn Poe inquired about his family and their reaction to his decision to run away and join a ruthless band of renegades. Grandpa seemed to be trying to soften the blow a bit, but told him that Big Bull, after a series of rants and raves, had given up on the boy and figured him dead.

“Well, you told him that I was a notorious outlaw running with a gang of miserable horse thieves, didn't ya?” Corn Poe pushed, borrowing some language from one of Mr. Hawkins's pirate tales.

“No, I said nothing to that effect. As far as I'm concerned, I don't know what's happened to any of you,” Grandpa answered, which set Corn Poe to sulking, but only as long as his attention could bear to fixate on one subject.

Beatrice and Lionel eagerly showed off their accomplishments in their grandfather's absence. They showed him their firewood stores, the late summer abundance of the garden, and the fish trap.

Grandpa stood over the stream, impressed with the tight weave of branches, but he appeared to be lost in thought.

“I'm not sure that the Suyitapis would like this,” Grandpa said, packing his pipe.

“The Suyitapis?” Lionel asked.

“The underwater people. Spirits. out of respect the old ones taught us not to disturb their world. You're old enough now so I'll leave it to you to decide.”

Beatrice stared deep into the swirling pool as Mr. Hawkins, Junebug, and Corn Poe appeared on the upper bank.

“Always something to learn,” Mr. Hawkins said as he made the note in his book. “Yes indeed, always something.”

Lionel thought about this and decided he would respect the old ones' way. Beatrice must have agreed, because the next time Lionel returned to the stream, he noticed that the fish trap had been dismantled and the sticks neatly stacked on the shore.

Grandpa fit easily into the renegades' routine, and this odd assembly continued making preparations for winter and enjoying each other's company on these last of the long, sun-filled days. The days grew shorter and the evening snows more frequent, with the tops of the surrounding mountain peaks already covered until next spring.

The group sat around the open campfire at night telling stories and taking in the last of this season's stars. Grandpa joined them on their long expeditions, hunting or otherwise, into the Great wood. on one particular trip, he appeared suddenly under the great canopy and presented Lionel with an eagle feather.

“He musta wanted me to give it to you,” Grandpa said, tying the feather into Lionel's now longer hair. “I stepped away from y'all, looked up, and there it was, floating down.”

Beatrice was watching when the feather floated down and noticed that her grandfather had been standing under what appeared to be a large nest. Beatrice failed to share this observation with Lionel.

Lionel sat proudly that night at the fire feeling that now, with the feather in his hair and his bear claws, he at least
looked
like the great horsemen and like his fellow warrior Beatrice. The group saw, as they had begun to see with greater frequency, something that Mr. Hawkins called the aurora borealis; a night sky that reminded Lionel of the color-streaked morning when he had first seen the starfish.

It was on this night that Grandpa announced it was time for him to return to the Milk River, so as not to arouse the suspicions of the government.

The next morning Grandpa rode out of the meadow with a list of supplies from Mr. Hawkins, a list that included a box of yellow pencils. Grandpa promised to return soon with word and hopefully, a plan that would take them through the winter. He said that it might be time to head up to Canada, but also thought that it wasn't necessary at the moment to make a firm decision.

Lionel and Beatrice watched their grandfather disappear into the tree line, and soon a melancholy fell over the meadow. Even the usually boisterous Mr. Hawkins, who had enjoyed their grandfather's company, became withdrawn and sullen.

In the days that followed Grandpa's departure, the group continued their long walks into the Great wood, but now walked in silence. The days of pirate adventure were traded for thoughts of what had transpired and apprehension at what still lay ahead.

It was during one of these somber forays through the trees that they became reacquainted with Tom Gunn of the Heart Butte renegades.

A B
LODDIED
T
OM
G
UNN
• J
ENKINS
& L
UMPKIN
• “T
HEY'RE IN THE WOODS”

THEY WERE
out hunting one day when they were startled by the sound of a large animal crashing through the undergrowth. Junebug heard it first, but Beatrice and Mr. Hawkins must have then seen it, because they both immediately broke from the group in pursuit.

Lionel, Corn Poe, and Junebug tried to follow, but soon lost Beatrice and Mr. Hawkins somewhere among the trees. They paused to catch their breath, and Junebug crouched, turning his head in owl-like fashion with every creak and groan from the big trees that surrounded them.

“What in God's creation was that?” Corn Poe gasped.

Junebug ignored him, continuing instead to rotate his head, eventually facing north, then abruptly standing and looking at Lionel. Lionel understood, and followed when Junebug suddenly broke away without making a sound.

“What—ya hear something?” Lionel heard Corn Poe call.

Lionel ran at Junebug's heels, easily weaving between the massive tree trunks that descended from the great canopy above, and jumping over the crumbling decay of logs that lay in their path.

“Come on, what did ya hear?” Corn Poe yelled from behind, struggling to catch them. “What is it?”

They ran for a long time, but did not tire. Lionel noted that with every step, the distance between them and Corn Poe's fading cries became more evident.

They ran as fast as they could until they reached a slight ridge that hung over a low depression. They paused at the lip, and below them they saw Beatrice closing in on what now appeared to be some sort of man, a thin man. The thin man ran recklessly, bouncing off trees and falling over their broken limbs. Mr. Hawkins, carrying his rifle, was right behind Beatrice.

Junebug and Lionel slid down the embankment on a heavy blanket of leaves and scrambled to their feet in time to see Beatrice tackle the runner and disappear behind the base of a large tree. They followed as fast as they could, and in no time, rounded the tree to find Beatrice sitting on Tom Gunn, holding him facedown on the forest floor. Mr. Hawkins stood over them, collecting his breath.

“You've got to let me go, you've got to, or they're gonna catch me!” Tom Gunn spat dirt and wet rotting leaves from his mouth. “It won't take long for them to figure I'm gone!”

Beatrice stood, allowing Tom to roll over; and that's when they all saw his bruised and battered face. Tom's right eye was swollen shut, and there was a cut on his upper lip. He also wore a two-inch gash smack dab in the middle of his forehead, and his tattered turkey feathers were missing.

“I'm tellin' ya, you're best to let me go!” Tom yelled.

“Son, just take a minute to catch your breath,” Mr. Hawkins said, frantically scanning the low depression where they stood.

“I just don't want 'em to catch me,” Tom said, his words turning into low and heavy sobs. “I just wanna go back to school. I just wanna go home.”

Lionel looked at Beatrice, who watched Tom without emotion.

“Hey, where are y'all?” suddenly boomed across the wash. “I can hear ya, but I sure the hell can't see ya.”

Mr. Hawkins's head snapped in the direction of Corn Poe's voice. “That boy is just about a hair away from bein' a full-blown idiot, ain't he?”

“Come on, y'all,” Corn Poe's cries continued, “where are ya?”

Mr. Hawkins shot a look at Junebug, and in a silent flash the boy was gone, running back in the direction of Corn Poe's pleading cries. Mr. Hawkins kneeled down next to Tom and helped him to sit.

“Son, you're all right now.”

Lionel noticed that there was something different in Mr. Hawkins's voice and that his face had wrinkled into a concerned frown.

“Now, listen. I ain't gonna hurt ya, but I do need you to answer me this right away. How far back are these folks that did this to ya?”

Tom looked up at Mr. Hawkins with a curious expression. “They're a ways back. I've been running through the night, but they'll catch me. I know they will.” Tom looked wildly around, resting his gaze on Beatrice and Lionel. “They're looking for you!”

“Me?” Corn Poe retorted, appearing from behind the big tree with Junebug at his side. “Go figure.”

“Corn Poe, make yourself useful and get this boy something to drink,” Mr. Hawkins instructed. Tom, although battered, bruised, and bleeding, looked to have calmed down a bit. “Now, who's after who, son? who ya running from?” Hawkins persisted.

“The men, the government men from the outpost. They're here. They're here somewhere in the woods.”

Mr. Hawkins's face tightened. Lionel watched, but Beatrice's expression remained unchanged.

“Barney decided he'd try to collect the hundred dollars for the return of the horse, but these men…Lumpkin and Jenkins…they've gone crazy. went to hittin' me and Barney after we left the captain.”

“The captain?”

“Yeah, when he heard that his horse was up in the mountains, he formed his own party to set out to retrieve 'im. Jenkins convinced the captain to let him and Lumpkin go ahead to scout. Made me and Barney go with 'em.”

Corn Poe reappeared with a small flask of water and handed it to Tom, who drank it all in a single gulp.

“We were supposed to go back to where the captain is camped to report, but Jenkins, the one with the scar, he said that we're close enough and that he don't need the captain to apprehend renegade children, so he made us keep going.”

“How many men's he got?” Hawkins shot, in a tone that Lionel wouldn't have recognized as his voice before today.

“Well, back at the captain's camp, they got about ten, maybe twelve, but Jenkins got about five with him, five not including Mr. Lumpkin. I left in the night 'cause Jenkins hit the bottle and went to beatin' on me and Barney, claiming we knew more than we let on and that we was leading him on what he called ‘a wild goose chase.'”

Tom paused and tilted the empty flask back toward the sky, draining it of its few remaining drops.

“Barney got the worst of it. I don't think he cares for the one hundred dollars no more.”

Mr. Hawkins sat back on his haunches and looked up at Junebug, who stood at the base of the tree next to Corn Poe.

“What?” Corn Poe asked.

But Mr. Hawkins stayed quiet.