Starfish (15 page)

B
ACK ON THE
R
UN
• E
LK AT THE
S
TREAM
• S
WIMMING
• A F
IRELESS
C
AMP
• T
HE
T
RUTH
A
BOUT
A
VERY
J
OHN
& J
UNEBUG
H
AWKINS

THEY RAN
as a group back to the meadow in silence, Mr. Hawkins prodding Corn Poe and Tom Gunn to keep up for the majority of the journey. when they got back to the meadow Mr. Hawkins told the boys to take Tom to clean up down at the stream.

They left Mr. Hawkins and Beatrice standing in front of the lodge with the horses, and Lionel felt a heaviness that he had not experienced since they had run away from the boarding school, the same haunted presence that had left him that first night at their grandfather's house on the Milk River.

Lionel walked ahead, leaving Corn Poe rambling on to Junebug about his various theories as to the true motivations of the government's pursuit. Junebug was a good listener and therefore Corn Poe's preferred audience.

When Lionel got to the stream, from the corner of his eye he saw something move. He turned, hoping for a moment that his grandfather, having heard that there was trouble, had come back. Instead, he found that he had interrupted a family of elk drinking from the swirling stream.

Lionel watched as the elk casually drank their fill and moved from the water to the woods. Lionel locked eyes with the bull elk as he paused to show his wide antlers before fading into the trees. Lionel was still thinking about the elk's dark black eyes as Corn Poe, Tom, and Junebug reached the stream.

“My vote is that we head to Canada. They already looked for us up there, and therefore, now that they're back here, it's the last place they'll think we'll be,” Corn Poe was saying as Tom lay on his belly to drink from the creek.

Lionel wondered what Beatrice would think about Corn Poe continuing to include himself in all of their plans, and now that he thought about it, he noticed that Corn Poe almost seemed to be enjoying this. He watched the other three boys and thought about Beatrice and Mr. Hawkins back at the lodge and how fast they had been able to move through the woods that very morning. How fast they had been able to move without all of them.

Lionel decided to go for a swim to clear his head and pulled off his clothes, starting with the bear claws. He hung the string of claws from a low branch of a quaking aspen, stripped off his clothes, and jumped into the stream's deepest pool. The cold water surged over Lionel's body, reviving his legs, tired from the morning's run. Lionel was happy that the tumbling waters from the stream drowned out Corn Poe, who continued to hypothesize his different plans of escape.

Lionel's head hurt, so he swam under a small waterfall and leaned forward to drink, letting the water beat onto the back of his neck and shoulders. He heard what he thought to be a distant whistle, but as he swam toward the muddy bank, realized from Junebug's reaction that it was one of Mr. Hawkins's birdcalls. He followed Corn Poe, Junebug, and Tom, gathering his piled clothes and pulling them on as he ran back to the lodge.

Mr. Hawkins stood before the lodge, cinching the saddles on his already loaded horses. He worked quickly, barely acknowledging the boys as they ran across the meadow to join him. Lionel looked around for Beatrice and Ulysses.

“I must be outta my head. I should just be takin' my boy and leavin' the rest of ya,” Mr. Hawkins said, more to himself than to the rest of them. “Me and old Junebug got ourselves organized and know how to move. I can't say the same about the rest of you.”

Mr. Hawkins lifted a heavy sack of flour onto the back of one of the packhorses and tied the thick canvas over it.

“And you,” Hawkins said, turning to Corn Poe, “I don't want no more foolishness. No more of this idle chatter. You're to keep your mouth shut and do what you're told! I want you to think before ya speak.”

Beatrice appeared from behind the lodge, riding high on Ulysses's back. Their few supplies were already tied in small bundles to the great horse's neck.

“Do ya hear me, boy?” Mr. Hawkins demanded. “'Cause I'll leave ya here, if not. I'll leave ya right here!”

Corn Poe stood, surprisingly speechless.

“Now, gather your things. You do the same, Lionel. Check to see if your sister got everything.”

Lionel and Corn Poe ran into the lodge, fueled by the urgency in Mr. Hawkins's voice. Avery John Hawkins seemed like a different person, the anger making his voice almost unrecognizable.

They crossed the crooked doorframe and Lionel paused, impatiently letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. As the cavernous fireplace slowly came into view, Lionel wondered if this was the last time he would ever see the lodge. Corn Poe scrambled about, blindly throwing his only other shirt, his spare pair of woolen socks, and a blue tin cup into his heavy jacket.

“That's my kit,” he said, and shot back out the door.

Lionel surveyed the room once more. His sister had, while he was swimming, taken care of everything.

They rode for the rest of the day and into the night. They rode higher and higher up into the mountains, Beatrice and Lionel on the back of Ulysses, Junebug and Mr. Hawkins on their horses, and Corn Poe and Tom Gunn riding on the pack horses that Mr. Hawkins led up the winding, narrow trail. Lionel could see the meadow and the lodge spiraling farther and farther below them as they climbed higher and higher. He wondered—if their grandfather did return, how would he find them? He wondered where Mr. Hawkins was taking them.

That night they made a small camp, but Mr. Hawkins warned them not to get comfortable, as they would be moving out long before the first light of morning. He wouldn't let them start a fire as it could give away their position, but instead stood over them, unpacking a portion of their load, continuing to go on about Corn Poe and his particular ability to create mischief.

“We should never have stopped,” Mr. Hawkins went on, mumbling to himself. “As much as I love that little lodge in the summers, we should'a kept going the second we saw the smoke rising from that crumbled and crooked ol' chimney. Nine times outta ten, these days, where there's smoke, there's people; and where there's people, there's problems. And now, oh now, we got the lion's share in all of 'em.”

Mr. Hawkins threw his saddle to the ground and flung himself into an unhappy heap against it. The children gathered in a small circle around a fire that wasn't there and sat, eating the stringy smoked meat.

The moon rose, accompanied by the ever present sounds of the night. Lionel knew that the steady creak and moan of the trees, the swelling cacophony of crickets, and the intermittent calls from the night owls had been there all along; but now as they sat without speaking, the nocturnal cries took the forefront, and lay over the already heavy weight of this particular evening.

Lionel was looking up at the stars when Corn Poe spoke.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hawkins. I don't mean to intrude or wake ya if you're sleepin',” he said, just a notch above a whisper.

“I ain't sleepin',” Hawkins responded, lying on his side with his head turned to the night.

“If you don't mind me askin' ya some-thin'. Somethin' of a personal nature?” Corn Poe continued.

Mr. Hawkins rolled over, looking more curious than disturbed. “I suppose it would depend on the nature of the question, and if I was you, I'd think long and hard about what you're askin'.”

Corn Poe sat quietly for a moment and then continued, “well, I suppose in one sense it ain't none of my business. But, on the other, it truly is. Ya see, I figure that now that we're travelin' with each other, I got a right to know on account it may have some influence on me and my well-being and that of my friends.”

“Well, this ought to be one helluva question,” Mr. Hawkins said, sitting up and gazing across the patch of moonlight toward the children. “Well, then, go ahead. I'll do my best to answer if I choose to.”

Lionel studied Corn Poe's expression. He always looked a little uneasy, so it was hard to tell if there was any sort of change in his demeanor. Tom Gunn sat next to him, staring at his feet.

Corn Poe continued, “well, what it is I'm wonderin' is how come you and Junebug here are on the run? I mean, Lionel and Beatrice is runnin' on account of bein' horse thieves. I suppose I fell in with 'em, so that puts me as an accessory to the crime. But what about you? what about the Junebug? why y'all out here? why y'all so hell bent on runnin'?”

Lionel looked at Junebug, and then at Beatrice and Tom Gunn. Lionel had never thought to ask and doubted if he had ever wondered why Mr. Hawkins and Junebug chose to live in the mountains. Lionel just assumed that this is where they lived. He wondered if Beatrice knew. He wondered if she cared.

“I suppose I can tell ya, as it may have a bearing on how this all unfolds. Hell, maybe it'll sway ya to decide it's time to part company, and we can move on guilt-free,” Hawkins said with a distant look in his eye. He leaned forward and stared at Corn Poe with a blank expression on his face.

“I killed a man—two men—with my bare hands. I'd killed men before, but then it was all right. It's all right to a kill a man as long as the government tells ya to kill 'im. But in this case, I did it on my own; and now they're dead, the both of 'em, dead.”

Corn Poe's face lit up, but he fought to control himself and spoke again in the same hushed tone with which he had started the conversation. “Well, if 'n you did, you must'a had your reasons.”

Mr. Hawkins looked over at Junebug and then to the harvest moon that hung like a rotting pumpkin over the treetops. “They came after my missus and the boy there. She was dead when I found them and now, so are they. That's all ya need to know. Ya understand me? That's all ya need to know.”

“Yes, sir. I understand,” Corn Poe said, looking both satisfied with the answer and relieved that he had asked the question that had been on his mind.

“I suggest ya put that outta your head. It's in the past,” Mr. Hawkins said, lying back into his saddle. “Now, you get some sleep.”

Lionel lay back on the buffalo robe. His legs were tired, and his head still hurt. He tried to put it out of his mind, but he couldn't help but think about Mr. Hawkins killing the men, and wondered if he felt bad about what had happened. He remembered that Beatrice had told their grandfather that she hadn't felt bad when she drove the sheep shears into Jenkins's hand, but Lionel wondered if this was different. Lionel knew that Sergeant Jenkins had deserved it, but those men, the men that Mr. Hawkins was talking about, weren't stabbed in the hand, they were dead. But they were dead because they killed Mr. Hawkins's wife, Junebug's mother. Lionel closed his eyes, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day for all of them.

Soon, Lionel fell into a deep sleep and dreamed once again of the Frozen Man. He stood in a grove of quaking aspen with the Frozen Man, staring out across the grass sea. He saw Beatrice and his grandfather on their raft, sailing east away from the shore, away from him. He also saw a small ship, and on this ship he saw Mr. Hawkins, Junebug, and all their horses. Lionel turned away from the lake toward the woods. Corn Poe was riding through the trees on Ulysses. Lionel looked back to the Frozen Man and noticed for the first time that the Frozen Man, not Lionel, was wearing the string of bear claws around his frosted neck.

Lionel sat up with a start, clutching at his neck for the bear claws. They weren't there. He looked around in the darkness. It was raining, and Lionel wasn't in a grove of aspen with the Frozen Man. He was wrapped in the buffalo robe in the mountains above the lodge in the meadow. Mr. Hawkins was crouched, tying the last corner of a tarp over Lionel's head. The rain thundered on the tarp, but now they were all dry, or as dry as could be expected.

“Go back to sleep there, Lionel,” Mr. Hawkins whispered. “It's all right, just a little rain.”

Lionel watched Mr. Hawkins's silhouette as he settled back down against his saddle. “Just a little rain.”

Lionel felt around the buffalo robe to see if the claws had come off while he was sleeping. They weren't there. Had someone taken them? He looked around suspiciously. who would take them? Then he thought about all that had happened that day and remembered that the last time he had seen the bear claws had been when he went swimming down by the stream. He had left them. He had left the string of bear claws by the stream in the meadow.

Not knowing what to do, he considered waking Beatrice and telling her, to see what she thought, but he could hear her heavy breathing and knew that it was rare that he was awake at a time when she wasn't. He had often wondered if she ever slept.

For a moment he lay listening to the rain splatter on the tarp. He had to go back. He had to go back to get the bear claws.

R
UNNING IN THE
R
AIN
• A T
ALKING
W
OLVERINE
• T
HE
P
IRATE'S
T
REE
• T
HE
C
OLLIDING
M
ULE
• M
R.
H
AWKINS

LIONEL WAITED
until everyone's breathing turned heavy, and then, when it did, continued to wait, wanting to make certain that he did not wake any of them, especially Mr. Hawkins.

Finally, Lionel folded back the buffalo robe and crawled out from under the tarp and into the rainy, black night. Hunched low, he sprinted from their encampment back to the trail that their caravan cut in their escape from the meadow.

He ran as best he could back down the spiraling path. Small rivers poured down the center of the game trail, and twice Lionel fell as he made his way to the valley below. He ran until he could run no farther, then assured himself that there was still plenty of night and that he would be back with the bear claws before morning and that none of them would know he had ever left.

The trail dropped down into the valley, and although it took longer than he had hoped, Lionel soon found himself running once again, this time parallel to the stream that would eventually lead him back to the meadow. Lionel looked to the east, where the morning would soon show itself in the distant clouded skies.

Lionel slowed once he reached the small grove of aspen, keeping an eye out for the branch where he had hung the claws. It had stopped raining, and as the clouds cleared, with the first hint of the new day, Lionel realized that he had wandered past their swimming hole. He thought that he had perhaps overshot that entire part of the river. He made his way back along the bank and once again found himself in a tight thicket of aspen, the same aspen from his dream. Lionel wandered through the maze, unable to get his bearings. He knew he was close, so how could he miss it? Lionel stood, scared and unsure as to what he should do next. He thought about giving up and heading back to find Beatrice and Mr. Hawkins and the others; but then something shiny fell from the sky.

Lionel moved a few paces into the small grove to investigate and found a shiny gold button in the rotting leaves that covered the forest floor. He picked it up and noticed that it had an eagle engraved on it, similar to the military buttons on the coat that the captain had given him. He ran a finger down his jacket's open flap and was surprised to find that they were all still firmly intact. A dark shadow passed over him, and Lionel looked up to see the fleeting tail feathers of the raven from their meadow.

The raven zigzagged from tree to tree, surveying the stream in the clear morning light. Lionel remembered the raven's pulling buttons from the straw man's silk dress. He put this dropped button in his pocket and followed the bird, hoping that it was on its way back to and not away from the meadow. He found himself running to keep up and in no time he stood breathless at the familiar rise that led to the small pool with the waterfall. He climbed the rise, and there, hanging on the slim branch in a tight clump of quaking aspen, was the string of bear claws, exactly where he had left them. Lionel looked to the treetops to thank the bird, but the raven was gone.

Lionel climbed the rise and took the claws from the branch. The leather that held them was wet, but all seemed to be intact. He tied the bear claws around his neck and then dropped to the bank to drink from the cold swirling waters.

When he'd had enough, Lionel rolled over onto his back. He caught his breath, feeling relieved to have recovered the Frozen Man's gift, and wondering how the raven had happened upon the button that was now in his pocket. Lionel knew that he should immediately turn back and run as fast as he could to rejoin the others, but thought that while he was catching his breath, it wouldn't hurt to have another look at the lodge that had been their home.

He scrambled to his feet and dropped down into the meadow. Their garden held the last of the season's offerings, but in the pale light of morning it looked lonely and overgrown with all that had transpired over the last couple of days. Lionel looked at the slumped straw man and thought about the day that his grandfather had sat on the stool weaving it to life; the same stool that Corn Poe had threatened to crack across Mr. Hawkins's head.

Lionel wandered a bit farther out into the meadow, thinking about Mr. Hawkins and wondering what his life would have been like if those men hadn't killed his wife. He wondered if Mr. Hawkins, his wife, and Junebug might have liked to live in the little lodge year-round. Lionel thought that he and Beatrice would have, but not anymore. They were back on the run—but where would they run to now?

A commotion from the stream below startled him. He whipped around to see the big, black-eyed elk burst from behind the garden and bolt across a section of the meadow toward the cover of the Great wood. The big elk ran toward the tree line, but then, almost as a second thought, changed direction and ran directly toward the lodge, continuing to the trees that stood behind it and the smokehouse.

Lionel dropped into a crouching position, hiding in the high grass of the meadow, and stared back toward the stream. Something had startled the elk, and there, back in the trees, he saw what it was. Men—government men on horseback, and some on foot.

Heart pounding, Lionel spun around and hurried toward the shelter of the Great wood, but then, like the elk, changed direction and broke toward the lodge. There were more men back in the trees.

He ran toward the lodge, throwing himself against the crooked door, and tumbling into his former home. He rolled to the window and carefully stole a look toward the stream.

The men on horseback appeared on the rise and entered the small meadow. Lionel craned his neck toward the Great wood where he saw more men appear. He dropped from the window and leaned against the lodge's rough-hewn logs. His heart was racing, and he could hear his own labored breathing. He slowly rose up for another look.

Some of the men had dismounted, and their horses had wandered into the recently neglected garden, helping themselves to the remnants. Lionel thought he caught a glimpse of Brother Finn and the captain himself, but dropped back down before he could be sure. Lionel looked around the lodge, trying to think of what his grandfather would do. He decided to take one more look outside and see if there was a way he could make it to the Great wood. If he could make it to the woods, he could find his way around the meadow and back up to the trail to rejoin Beatrice and Mr. Hawkins.

Peering through the window, Lionel thought he saw a soldier lowering Barney Little Plume from the back of a horse to the ground. Barney's hands looked as though they were tied behind his back. Lionel looked back toward the stream and the garden. An assemblage of soldiers was now heading directly toward the lodge.

Lionel fell to the floor on the verge of tears. He was trapped. He thought about Beatrice and his grandfather and wondered again what they would do. Beatrice wouldn't have to do anything, because she wouldn't have gotten herself into this situation. Beatrice wouldn't have left the bear claws in the first place, let alone taken the time to go swimming in light of all that had happened. And if she had forgotten them, upon return, she would have grabbed the string of claws and left. She wouldn't have waited around to be joined by these men.

Lionel thought about his grandfather. once again, the only conclusion that Lionel could come to was that his grandfather wouldn't be in this situation. He would have been more careful with the claws. Lionel had learned so much since he had left school—but what of it could he use now?

He buried his head between his knees and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. He felt the gold button that the raven had dropped…then he thought of the elk…the elk…

Be aware of what's around you and watch. Listen to the animals, the wind, the mountains.

His grandfather was right. The raven and the elk in their own ways had just warned him. They had told him that there were men in the woods.

Grandpa's words ran through his head. His eyes darted anxiously around the abandoned lodge, finally resting on the slumping chimney. His hand shot down to the raised scar on his leg. The wolverine. Lionel looked once more out the window. The soldiers were almost to the lodge. He dropped back down and scrambled on all fours toward the chimney and the crack—the same crack they figured the wolverine had crawled through. Depending on where you stood in the room, you might not even notice the crevice, let alone think that something—or someone—could actually fit there.

Lionel climbed up onto the chimney and then pulled himself into the wolverine's passage. Just as he disappeared into the damp, musty space, he heard the men kick in the lodge's crooked door, followed by the sound of smashing glass. Lionel could see the soldiers in slivers of glimpses between the crumbled rocks.

“Would you take a look at this dump?” one of the soldiers snarled. Lionel knew that voice; it washed over him like a nightmare. It was Jenkins, Sergeant Haskell Jenkins.

Lionel saw the sneering grin and coarse black patch as Jenkins flashed across the chimney's fissure. There he was, smashing and breaking his way across their lodge.

Lionel's fear turned to anger. He wanted to attack Jenkins where he stood for what he had tried to do to his sister, but thought better of it. Lionel knew he had to get out of there. He had to find and warn Beatrice. He had to warn Mr. Hawkins, Junebug, Corn Poe, and even Tom Gunn.

“Jenkins, Sergeant Jenkins.” Lionel heard a familiar voice entering the lodge. He looked toward the door and saw that it was the captain who addressed Jenkins, and he did not sound happy.

“What on earth is that boy doing bound, Sergeant Jenkins?” the captain demanded, hooking his thumb to the yard where Barney now stood under guard.

“I consider him a hostile, sir,” Jenkins answered.

“A hostile?” the captain responded in disbelief. “That's preposterous. He's only a boy.”

“There were plenty of ‘boys' who went hostile during the campaign,” Jenkins said in a rather matterof-fact tone.

“The campaign is over. It has been for some time. As a matter of fact, Sergeant, I can't quite recall your being there.” The captain turned to the other soldiers who stood in the doorframe. “I want that boy released immediately. And see to it that he's cleaned up and fed.”

The other soldiers scurried, leaving Jenkins and the captain alone in the lodge.

“And where have you been, Sergeant? You were supposed to scout ahead and return to report to me. That was over two days ago,” the captain growled.

“Why, we were right on their trail, sir. I thought it best under the circumstances to continue the pursuit. If I hadn't been forced back to meet ya here, I'd bet my last silver dollar I'd have them horse thieves in custody already.”

“That is not the issue,” the captain shot back.

“You were under orders, and I'd be within my rights to relieve you of your duties.”

Lionel watched the captain circle the room. He looked older. He looked tired.

“I want a full report when we return to the post,” the captain continued. “Your conduct is suspect and highly unorthodox.”

“Aye, Captain, as unorthodox as it may be, I've been charged with the return of stolen property and the apprehension of horse thieves, and that is what I intend to do.”

“That you were,” the captain countered, “but you will do so under my command and in a manner befitting a solider. Is that understood, Sergeant?”

Jenkins spat on the floor and moved toward the door.

“Sergeant, is that understood?”

“Aye, Captain. Clear as crystal. Now, sir, beggin' the captain's pardon, I'd like to continue the search. I believe them perpetrators to be in the immediate vicinity.”

Jenkins gave the captain a halfhearted salute and then left. Lionel sat silently watching as the captain returned the salute to no one, and then continued to examine the lodge. He wandered over to the chimney and stood dangerously close to where Lionel was hiding.

Lionel wondered if he should reveal himself and try to explain to the captain what had happened and why he had taken Ulysses. Lionel liked the captain and was sure that he missed the big horse. He wanted to let the captain know that he had continued to care for the horse in his absence.

But the captain turned and walked abruptly out the door, leaving Lionel to consider making a run for it and trying to lose the men in a break for the Great wood. This seemed unlikely, as the voices of the soldiers had spread out from one side of the meadow to the other. Lionel could hear Jenkins's voice above all of the others as he barked orders urging his men to prepare to continue their mission of returning the captain's horse and apprehending those responsible for its theft.

There had to be another way. Lionel ran his hands down the contours of the chimney's piled river rocks and felt tufts of hair from the wolverine among the cobwebs and dust. There was a steady flow of air on his wet moccasins, so he crouched down on his knees to try to get his head in a position to investigate. He felt the air streaming with greater force and realized that the crack in the chimney continued to the exterior of the lodge. Lionel contorted his body, twisting himself to where he was practically standing on his head. He could see a small ray of light from outside and decided that he had to get out of the chimney so he could run back to warn the others.

Lionel moved further into the crevice and inched himself toward the light. The space was cramped, but he pulled himself along on his belly, quietly moving small piles of debris as he went. He sensed movement above him as he crawled, and when he reached the light of the small opening, he stopped.

The rock above seemed to be alive, moving almost as if it were breathing. Lionel's eyes adjusted to the light and he realized that it wasn't the chimney that was moving but a swarm of daddy longlegs dangling in a tight bunch just inches above his head. Lionel wasn't afraid of spiders, but this was a lot of them. He quickly moved forward until he was in a position to push his head out the crevice at the back of the chimney and make a break for the tree line that stood ten paces from where he was hiding.