Evergreen - Chapter 4

Johnny closed the cabin door and shut the blizzard out.

The dog, although large, appeared to be harmless and once it was off Scott, it calmed down. After a vigorous shake, most of the snow that stuck in clumps to its coat fell off and started to melt in small pools on the floor. Scott, once it was apparent that the dog was only being friendly, was amused by its exuberance. He covered up his smile, looked the dog in the eye and said sternly, "Down and stay down." When the animal reluctantly lay down with a huff of breath, Scott turned to the little boy. "Where'd you come from, son? Isn't it a bit late for you to be out?"

"I live over there," the boy said vaguely. He removed his fur-lined woolen cap and exposed curly blond hair. He announced, "I'm Anton Petrov." He looked around the cabin as if seeking someone, then back to the grownups. "Who're you?"

Scott said, "I'm Mr. Lancer and this is. . .Mr. Lancer."

Johnny looked their unexpected guest over. The boy couldn't be more than seven, and he was scrawny, to boot. "Was that your Ma who tossed us out into the night? And shouldn't you be home, tucked up in bed or somethin'?'"

Anton caught the stern tone and nodded solemnly. "My Ma don't like strangers, 'specially when Pa's away." He looked inquiringly past Scott. "Is Peter here? I saw the lights and even if Ma said not to leave the house, I had to see if they came home. Where's Peter and his Ma and Pa, anyway?"

Scott and Johnny's eyes met over Anton's blond head. Scott shrugged, but he asked the boy, "Are they the folks who live here, Anton?"

Anton nodded in reply, his eyes wide. The dog whined, his big brown eyes roving from Scott to the child as if unsure if he'd been forgiven for his bad behavior. The boy kneeled next to the big animal, his small hand on its back, absently stroking the damp fur until the whining ceased. "Ma said they'd gone away but Peter never would have left without saying 'bye." He looked beseechingly from Scott to Johnny. "I know he wouldn't."

With a hand on the child's back, Johnny moved him away from Scott, then asked, "Is there a town here?"

For a moment the boy looked at him blankly, then he asked, "You mean a store? There's Old Joe's place down the road apiece."

Scott asked, "Has this place got a name?" He leaned forward and patted the dog on the head. It looked like it was some kind of wolfhound to him, rangy with a long muzzle and a wavy coat.

"Sure, this is Evergreen," Anton said as if that explained everything. "My dog's name is Pistol."

Johnny grinned. "He's a pistol, huh?" He squatted down so his face was on a level with the little boy's. "Are there many folks living here? Maybe a doctor?"

Anton nodded.

That was good news to Johnny. "He lives nearby?"

The boy nodded again. "Doc's place is at the end of the road, past town. Ma says he ain't worth spit," he said matter-of-factly. "There used to be a lot of folks livin' hereabouts. . . enough to fill the church, anyway. But mostly they leave before the snow comes, 'cept the diggers up the hill. Most of them stick it out all winter. Sometimes they find gold. Mr. Grigori showed me a nugget once, as big as a fist. Well, as big as my fist. We stay here, too. Ma and me - we're waitin' for Pa to come back." Anton's face crumpled.

Scott turned his head away to cough so it was up to Johnny to ask the obvious. "Your Pa, where'd he go?"

"He went down in the valley. Took the wagon for supplies, but it musta snowed too much for him to get back."

Scott said kindly, "I hope he'll be back soon, son." Suddenly he leaned forward and coughed several times, holding his ribs, his face reddening with the effort.

Johnny stood and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Time you should go. My brother's under the weather."

Worry flickered across Anton's little face. "My Ma will kill me if she finds out I was here. She says I can't go near anyone or the chuma will get me. D'ya think it got Peter's folks? I don't want it to get me." As quickly as the boy had come, he pulled on his hat and ran out, dog at his heels. "C'mon, Pistol!" He left the door open and called over his shoulder, fighting to be heard over the wind, "Maybe I'll be back tomorrow."

Johnny hurried to shut the door after their visitor but before he got it closed he saw the woman, cloaked in a heavy shawl pulled over her hair, heading towards the cabin. She struggled through the deep drifts, her skirts dragging in the snow. The lantern she held high lit up the flakes as they swirled madly around her. Her boy ran into her arms, speaking excitedly in a foreign language. Her head came up. She saw Johnny standing in the open doorway, and even at that distance he sensed she was alarmed. The woman, Anton's Ma, shouted what he figured was an epithet then hauled her boy away through the deep snow, back to their own home.

Holding the door open a few inches, Johnny watched the lingering glow of the lantern until the woman and child disappeared into the dark woods. The last thing he heard as he shut the door on the blowing snow was the dog barking somewhere out in the frigid night.

~ • ~

Johnny sat near Scott and stared at the fire. "I wonder what happened to Peter and to his Ma and Pa." He thought of the empty bedroom at the rear of the house, cold and deserted. He had a good idea but didn't want to voice his fears.

"Maybe the chuma got them," Scott said. "Whatever a chuma is." He started to rise from his chair in front of the fire but Johnny was quick to prevent him from getting up.

"Just tell me what you need, Scott."

"Water. My throat's so dry."

Johnny poured a cupful of the melted snow into a mug. "Might be a bit warm."

Scott gulped it down as if it was the best drink he'd ever had, and then relaxed with a sigh. "That boy shouldn't have come in here."

"No," Johnny agreed.

"What if he caught. . . whatever I've got?"

"Not much we can do about it," Johnny said regretfully. "I think you need some sleep, brother. I'll get our beds ready. The cabin'll get cold tonight. I'll work on fixing the broken stove over there tomorrow." The pot-bellied stove would be enough to heat the kitchen area and the bedroom, but for now they could sleep in the living area.

Scott just nodded in reply. Within a couple of minutes he dropped off to sleep sitting up but was soon awakened by a scraping noise and some bangs.

Johnny dragged a single wooden bed frame out into the main room, then went back and lugged out a mattress. Another trip, and some pillows were dumped at Scott's feet. Within a few minutes Johnny had set up the bed and arranged a place on the floor for himself. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to drop," he said. "Let's turn in." A gust of wind blew snow against the front window, and a branch struck the glass panes with a boney rattle. Johnny hunched his shoulders and shivered. "Boy, do I hate the snow," he muttered.

It didn't take much convincing to get Scott to go to bed. The long day had caught up to him and he felt worse with every passing minute. He slowly removed his heavy sheepskin coat and then his gun belt. "I'm hot. First time all day."

"Keep a few layers on," Johnny suggested. He tried to assist his brother, but his helping hand was rebuffed.

"I can undress myself," said Scott testily. His whole frame began to shake with chills, despite the warm room and his declaration only a minute earlier that he was hot.

Scott had a fever, for sure, but he was strong and would get over it in no time, Johnny thought. He had a bad feeling, but put it down to being so isolated. They'd be fine. They had a roof over their heads, plenty of firewood out in the shed. There was enough food for a couple of days and the means to go hunting as soon as daylight came around.

Scott left his corduroy jacket on; he wore long underwear under a woolen shirt and would keep warm once he was in bed. Johnny laid the heavy sheepskin coat across the end of the bed, but as he put it down he discovered something bulky in the pocket. He reached in and pulled out a slim package, no longer than his hand, wrapped in thick brown waxed paper. "What's this?"

Scott looked at it with disinterest and shook his head slightly. He crawled into bed and pulled a blanket up over his chest. "What is it?"

"It has a stamp on it with Doc O'Dwyer's name." Johnny sat on the edge of the bed and unwrapped the parcel to reveal two glass vials. Only one of them was still intact. The other was shattered into small shards and most of its liquid had been absorbed by the cotton wool used as padding. Johnny raised his eyes to meet Scott's. "O'Dwyer must have put this in your pocket for a reason, Scott. It's some of that medicine. Did he mean it for us?"

"He didn't mention it to me," Scott said tiredly. He looked at the single vial of liquid in Johnny's hand. "You'd better take it, Johnny."

"Me? You need it more than I do!" Johnny gingerly picked up the unbroken glass vial and looked it over. There was no label tied to the wax-sealed cork, but it was obviously the same as the serum they'd delivered to High Pass. He pulled out his pocket knife and began to cut away at the wax seal.

When it was obvious that Johnny was opening the vial of medicine in order to give him a dose, Scott stopped him with a hand on his arm. "It won't do me any good, Johnny. Not now I'm already sick." Johnny looked at his brother briefly then continued with his task, so Scott said vehemently, "It will only make me worse."

Johnny sent him a suspicious look. "If you think I'm going to take this medicine when you're the one who's hurtin', you're wrong." He poked at the cork with the tip of his knife, trying to pry it off.

"O'Dwyer said it only works if you take it before you get sick. Look, I can show you how to open it-."

"I know how to open these things," Johnny said under his breath. "Anyway," he said louder, "I can't take this when you're the one who needs it."

"I'm telling you the truth," Scott said. He coughed several times, almost choking. He covered his mouth until the spell had passed. After a moment Scott said in a raspy voice, "I can't fight you on this. Believe me, it won't do me any good." He laid his hand on Johnny's arm once more. "Please. Don't waste it. You take it. Do it for me."

Johnny shook his head stubbornly. "I can't. I can't, Scott," he said in a low voice.

Scott swore under his breath. "If you get sick, who's going to take care of me?"

Although Johnny saw his brother's point, he was sure he wasn't going to get sick. He rarely caught anything, and hadn't even had most of the childhood maladies other kids suffered through. Johnny noted his brother was frowning at him, so he slowly said, "I'll tell you what. If I feel anything, even a hint of sickness, come morning, I'll . . .I'll . . . think about taking this."

Scott looked at him sideways but seemed to realize that was the closest to a promise he was going to extract from his brother. He nodded and pulled the blankets up under his chin.

Johnny patted Scott on the leg then rose to put some more wood on the fire. The chill of the night seemed to seep into the cabin no matter how high the fire was blazing, and he knew he was going to have to get up every couple of hours to put more logs on. Johnny checked on the horses and replenished their water. He filled a big pot with snow for his and Scott's use and set it on the hearth to melt then doused the lamps and settled into his bedding on the floor near the fireside.

The last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep was Scott saying a weary but heartfelt, "Thanks, Johnny."

"Night, brother."

~ • ~

Johnny woke up suddenly. The fire was low and it was chilly in the cabin. He rose from his low bed and tossed a couple of logs on top of the flames then heard Scott making strange sounds in his sleep. Johnny laid a hand on his brother's forehead to discover he was hot with a fever.

Over the next few hours Johnny kept the fire stoked, made Scott drink as much water as he could get down, bathed his brow and piled extra blankets on his restless legs. Scott was curled up, suffering chills and nausea most of the time but eventually he fell asleep. Johnny intended to stay awake just to keep an eye on his brother, but he was exhausted and soon fell asleep on his bed on the floor.

It was sometime before dawn that Johnny started awake. There was a cold draft on his back. Something was wrong. He sat up and looked over his shoulder to see how Scott was doing. With alarm Johnny found his brother's bed was empty. Jumping to his feet, he cried out, "Scott!"

The front door to the cabin was ajar and Johnny realized that Scott had gone out in the freezing night.

***tbc