Chapter 4 – The Hermit and Trees
The body of the middle-aged man lay in the wet grass across from Jack.
Jack hadn't gotten close enough to actually check the man's pulse, but he was pretty confident that the man was dead. The first bullet, which had entered his chest directly in the area of his heart, would most likely have been enough. But Jack, his adrenaline at an all-time high, had almost immediately fired a second round, hitting the man in the head as he had fallen to the ground.
Jack didn't see any need to check if the man was still breathing. If anything was going to check on the man, it would most likely be vultures coming to feast.
The thought turned Jack's stomach.
Everything about the other man had bothered Jack since he had seen him for the first time yesterday afternoon.
As Jack slumped against the tree, he thought about how terribly wrong things had gone in the last 18 hours.
"Get off my land!", the man had screamed angrily in the late afternoon sun as he stood arguing with Jack the previous day.
"I told you, this isn't your land. You need to stop squatting here. You cannot stay and terrorize the ranchers in the adjoining land."
"It's my land and no damn Mountie is going to tell me otherwise!"
"Sir, this is the last warning you are going to get. This is government land. I want you to pack up your belongings and clear out of here. I'll let you stay the night but you need to leave at first light."
"Or what?!", the man scoffed.
"I will arrest you", Jack responded coldly. He had had enough of this man. For forty-five minutes, he had listened to the man's anti-government rants.
"It's my cabin!"
"It's a shack you built on government land with full knowledge that you did not have permission. Now clear out."
. . . .
After leaving the man and making camp, Jack had slept fitfully. The cantankerous hermit wasn't just irritating; he was full of anger and obsessed with staying in the illegally built shack.
The shack was barely fit for human occupation; it was nothing but a worn-down dwelling made from salvaged planks and logs of old hunting cabins.
Jack would possibly have had some sympathy for the now homeless man if the man hadn't been terrorizing his neighbors for months. Stealing from their crops, hunting on their lands, sending stray bullets too close to homes. The women were frightened and angry. Not only did he wander into their gardens and chicken coops to steal food and eggs, but he had started stealing clothes from their wash lines. The ranchers and farmers were irate that they couldn't leave their families unattended without worry.
The sooner the man left, the better Jack would feel.
. . .
Hours later, Jack had taken a final sip of morning coffee and then doused his campfire. He took his time packing up his belongings to give the tramp enough time to vacant the shack. With any luck, the man had heeded Jack's warning and already left the area.
Crossing the field after refilling his canteen in the creek, Jack had frowned when he saw the man approach him. The fact that the man wasn't carrying a bag of belongings was enough of an indication that he was not going to make this easy on Jack.
"Mr. Jones, you need to get out of here. I don't want to have to arrest you", Jack had called out.
The man hadn't responded but instead walked towards Jack's horse. Without a warning, he raised the ax which he had been shielding close to his side and slammed it into the horse's flank.
The effect was immediate. The horse bucked in pain as it let out a loud cry of surprise and then bolted across the field.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jack screamed as he ran towards his campsite and his weapon which he had carelessly left on his sleeping bag.
The man, seeing where Jack was headed, moved like a rabid dog without fear.
As Jack tried to get to his pistol, the other man, with eagerness in his eyes, began swinging as he rushed forward.
Jack ducked and the sharp metal blade of the ax glanced against his shoulder.
The pain was shocking.
Before Jack could react with more than a startled jerk, the man raised the blade again and slammed it into Jack's thigh.
Blood splayed from Jack's body, landing in the other man's grizzled beard and on his weathered face. He took his filthy hand and wiped Jack's blood off his deeply lined cheeks before raising the ax again.
Jack had stumbled towards his pistol. It was only 20 feet away but he didn't have time. He fell to his knees as the blade sunk into him for the third time. It stopped two inches into Jack's torso, evidence that the older man was getting tired.
Fighting against the pain and fear, Jack pulled his own knife from his boot and lunged upwards at the hobo. His blade, seeming so small against the man's ax, sliced across the man's stomach, momentarily surprising him. It was enough of a surprise to allow Jack to scramble away and reach his gun.
"I'll kill you, you damn Mountie!" the man had screamed in anger. "I'll kill you!"
The blood pumping through Jack's veins and the pounding of his own heart seemed to drown out the hermit's yelling.
With one hand pressed to his stomach to stop the gushing of blood, Jack used his other hand to aim his pistol and fire.
Time had been moving too fast. Just two minutes earlier, Jack had been alone in the peaceful field. Now he was bleeding and struggling to remain in control. The second bullet left his weapon before he even thought about it.
Jack had watched as the bullet tore into the man. A red stain had already spread on the man's filthy shirt, and he crumpled to the ground. His dying hand finally releasing the bloodied ax.
Jack now turned his eyes away from the body and looked at his own wounds.
The man was dead. And Jack wasn't the least bit sorry.
"How did you sleep last night?" Lucy asked as she caught up to Elizabeth, who was walking down the street at the end of the school day.
"Okay." Elizabeth answered simply as she shifted baby Jack in her arms.
"Well? Did you have a dream?"
"We are not talking about that. I was just being stupid. I should never have mentioned anything to you."
Lucy, her own baby in her arms, quickened her pace to keep up with Elizabeth. "That means you did. And I'm guessing it was about Jack."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because if it was about your family in Hamilton, you could have just sent them a telegram and found out that they were okay. And you wouldn't be in such a pensive mood. With Jack out in the wilderness, I know it's hard for you to contact him."
"I dreamed about Jack because he's my husband and I love him. Also, because you put the thought into my head with your freaky ideas! Who else would I worry about?! Of course I ended up dreaming about him!"
Elizabeth opened the front door and set the baby down in his bassinet, while Lucy followed her inside and closed the door behind her.
"Sit down."
"Why?"
"Because I'm going to tell you what Mary Mary always said to do."
Elizabeth took a seat on the couch, and tried to hide her anxiety but she kept thinking about how she had awoken up in the middle of the night dreaming of Jack.
"Mary Mary had two rules. First, if you have a shivering and don't know if the person is okay, you are supposed to think of everything you can do to help. And then do it."
"Do? I can't do anything?! He's a Mountie on duty somewhere in the wilderness! "
"Calm down. Let's think about what we can do."
The two women sat on the couch for a moment before Elizabeth spoke.
"I can send telegrams to the towns that he would have been passing by. Asking them if they've seen him and if they can be on the look-out for him", Elizabeth offered. "Maybe telling them to see if they can find his campsite."
"Excellent! I'll stay and watch the babies while you go do that now."
Elizabeth hurriedly grabbed her coin purse from the side table, and was almost out the door when she stopped and looked at Lucy.
"What was the second rule? That Mary Mary always says to do?"
Lucy reached into her pocket and pulled out a thin rectangular bar wrapped in brown and silver paper. A five-cent price was noted on the wrapper. She held it up and gave Elizabeth a weak smile and a shrug.
"Eat a bar of chocolate while you wait for word."
Jack tentatively moved his hand from his stomach and dared to look down, feeling relief when he didn't see his intestines.
He then lifted the flap of his saddlebag. His fingers, which were wet from his own blood, left smear marks on the leather.
Everything about Jack was wet. The rain soaking his hair and clothes. His sweat. His blood. His tears.
Everything had all mingled together and he could no longer discern his blood from the saltiness of his sweat and tears from the fresh rain which fell from the sky.
His official-issued small first aid kit with a one-inch wide rolled bandage would never be able keep him from bleeding out. It was never intended to save a Mountie with three ax wounds caused by a lunatic mountain man.
It was more than obvious to Jack that no regular Mountie supply bag could save him from his predicament.
The loss of blood was already making Jack dizzy and he was worried that he would pass out before he had time to bandage himself.
He grimaced against his pain as he reached into his bag and pulled out the parcel wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.
Thatch, my boy, your little bum is going to save me.
Jack's knife lay lost in the grass where it had fallen when he had stumbled to get to his pistol, so he now used his teeth to tear the twine. Fumbling with the package, he ripped away the paper.
The ten white cloth diapers, made of soft cotton, were folded in neat squares and stacked together.
Jack let out a sigh of gratitude as he remembered Elizabeth's final words to him when he was leaving home.
"Jack, when you go to other towns, will you see if their mercantiles have any diapers? I can't keep washing these same ten over and over again every day and hoping they dry in time."
"Doesn't MacIntre's have any more?"
"They're sold out. Between Lucy's baby, the Cranston kids, and baby Jack, we bought them out. Mr. MacIntre's not expecting a shipping anytime soon. And we could use some more. I can barely keep up with the baby."
"You do realize that I am going away on business, don't you? I'm a Mountie; not an errand boy. A Mountie. Strong. Brave. Upholding the law. Serving and protecting."
"Well, you can serve me and protect our clothes from your son's body fluids by buying us some more diapers."
"Yes, dear", he replied with a grin.
Elizabeth gave him a quick kiss him on the cheek, and then held up their son towards him.
Jack had tenderly placed his lips on their infant's tiny head.
"I'll be home soon."
"Promise?"
"I promise", he had assured them.
"Safely", she reminded him.
"Safely. And with diapers", he had snickered.
After dousing his wounds in iodine, Jack wadded up a diaper and shoved it tightly into his stomach's bloody gash before placing another one on top of it. Using the thin twine, he tied the cotton fabric in place as best as he could.
When his stomach was finished being covered and the bleeding had slowed considerably, he took care of his thigh, and then his shoulder. It was messy, but it would have to do.
He closed his eyes and leaned his exhausted head back against the tree trunk.
God, I just want to get home.
The sharp smell of the pine tree transported his weary mind to another place.
"You know, Jack, I am becoming quite the good Mountie Wife", Elizabeth had exclaimed proudly as she had dropped the last of the small logs on top of the pile by the stove before turning to Jack who was sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper.
"We've only been married two months. You think you've got it all figured out already?" he smirked.
"I can pump water, keep the stove going, skin a rabbit for dinner, pitch a tent. What else could there possibly be?"
"There's still making love outside", Jack replied as he casually turned a page of the newspaper.
"Well, no one said I had to do everything in the first few months", Elizabeth had replied dismissively as she washed her hands in the sink.
She kept her back turned so Jack couldn't see her smile.
"Is that how you really feel? Because I was thinking about setting down this newspaper, picking you up right now because you happen to look incredibly sexy, carrying you outside, and making passionate love to you under the white pine trees."
"The white pines? Which ones are those?" she asked nonchalantly over her shoulder as she dried her hands on the dishtowel.
"The tall ones that drop their inner needles."
"Not the ones that look like sturdy Christmas trees?"
"No, those are firs", Jack had informed her matter-of-factly as he set down the paper, stood up, and strode across the room towards her.
"Frazier or Douglas?"
"Both are firs. They have different cones."
"Are white pines the ones with the long soft needles?" She kept her voice calm and casual as she toyed with him.
"Yep, those are them", he replied as he hoisted her over his shoulder.
Thirty minutes later, Jack's tongue had lazily moved down Elizabeth's spine as she lay naked under a tall white pine tree.
She had murmured in pleasure as he took the palms of his hands and ran them along her smooth skin, warming it against the cool outside air. His fingers moved from her legs to her torso, to her neck, making circles with his thumbs and placing her in a sleepy trance now that her energy had been spent.
"I have to admit, you are very very good at being a Mountie wife."
Elizabeth, her eyes closed and her head turned to the side in a bed of soft pine needles, smiled before replying.
"We've been married two months and I have yet to see this Married Mountie and Wife Guide Book that you've often referred to."
"Well, it's not exactly a written book. More of mental list of things."
"Ahh, that might be why it seems to be filled with things you like."
"What? You didn't like making love under a white pine?!"
"Oh, I did. I did very much. But—"
"But what?" Jack asked as he had lain down next to her and began placing kisses on her neck and down to her breasts.
"It just seems to me . . .with you being a Mountie and all . . . and with the Maple tree being Canada's official tree, that we should be making love under maple trees, and not just white pines. If we're going to do things all official like. You know, according to a Guide book."
Jack let out a laugh. "I love you."
"And don't forget the Shore pine is Alberta's official tree . . . .the birch tree is Quebec's official tree. . . We should probably make sure we make love under every province's official tree. You know, in case we eventually get transferred there", Elizabeth murmured as she had begun kissing Jack with long slow kisses.
"Don't forget Saskatchewan", he reminded her quietly before pulling her in to a deep passionate kiss.
He had rolled on top of her, careful to keep his weight on his elbows as she moved her hips under him. Her fingers caressed the muscles of his back, and then held him tightly. She inhaled the scent of the pine needles clinging to his body and scattered in his hair as they made love again.
Now, Jack's breathing slowed and a calmness overcame him as he let his memories of Elizabeth overtake the pain in his body. He concentrated on the scent of pine trees and re-lived the feeling of her breasts, the taste of her mouth, the taste of her skin.
The deep throaty calls of the black birds forced him to open his eyes and he looked in the direction of the sound.
He turned away when he saw the ravens feeding on the quiet corpse of the once angry man.
Jack took a deep breath and placed his uninjured hand on the ground, pushing himself onto his knees.
He clenched his teeth in pain.
Using the strong tree trunk as a support, he slowly straightened his legs and stood upright, keeping most of his weight off his wounded thigh.
"Elizabeth, we still have a lot of trees to make love under", he said with determination as he began limping away from death and towards his life.
Up next: Chapter 5