The Gatherers by Marla Fair – chapter four

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They stayed at the campground overnight and then switched to the mules and moved on early the next morning, heading for the Shelby cabin. Laura was excited to see her friend, even though she knew he was ailing. She hadn't hoped she'd ever see Mr. Shelby again, figurin' Pa wouldn't want to take her hunting again after what happened the first time. Pa'd winked when she told him that and said he'd ask her ma about it.

Maybe they'd find some time to go out and look for a buck while they were visitin', he said.

The ride wasn't very long, though it was kind of hard since she kept rememberin' making it with Doctor Canby and Mister Edwards; wonderin' the whole time if her pa was still alive. He'd told her when she left that he'd be waiting in the bed 'fat and sassy', but he'd broke his word. He'd been near half-drowned when they found him, layin' in the stream beside the Shelby cabin. Doctor Canby said it was a good thing Pa had fallen in that icy water, 'cause it had slowed the bleeding and kept him alive until they got there.

She still had a hard time thinkin' of what she saw that day as a 'good' thing.

Pa kind of expected the Indian lady who was watching Mr. Shelby to come out to greet them when she heard them pull into the yard, but no one showed. After a minute, he hopped out of the wagon and told them to stay put as he headed for the cabin. The log structure was just like she remembered, kind of rough around the edges like Mary said the one they had before was. She didn't remember that place very well. She was too little. Pa stopped at the door and knocked. He waited and then knocked again, and then – with a glance at them – pushed the door open and went inside. Pa wasn't more than a minute before his curly head popped out and he yelled.

"Caroline, I need you. Now!"

"You stay put," her ma ordered like she knew she would.

"But, Ma…."

Ma had that look; the one that could have curdled milk. "No buts, young lady. You stay here until your father or I call for you."

Laura sunk back onto the wagon's bed. "Yes, Ma'am."

Ma had to be careful getting' out of the wagon without Pa's help, but she managed it all the same. Pa was standin' in the doorway waiting on her. Once Ma got to the cabin, they went in and then….

Nothing.

Five whole minutes of nothing.

Finally, Pa reappeared. He looked tired and kind of angry. When he got to the wagon he reached out and she jumped into his arms and let him plant her feet on the ground.

"Pa," she began tentatively, "is something wrong with Mr. Shelby?"

"He's sick, Half-pint. Real sick."

"What about the lady that was supposed to watch him?" She hadn't seen anyone yet and so she was wondering.

Pa ran a hand over his mouth and shook his head. "There's no one here. Just Sam."

"But Ben said he paid her."

Her father nodded. "There are signs someone was here not all that long ago. There's a half-eaten plate of food on the table."

"What do you suppose happened to her?"

The look Pa gave her was anything but encouraging. "I don't know, Half-pint. Seems she may have run away. I'm gonna see if I can find out."

The woods suddenly seemed more sinister; the breeze blowin' by, carrying whispers in its wake.

"Is someone else here?" she asked.

Pa's eyes scanned the trees as he talked. "Not so's I know, but you get inside with your ma until I can find out. She needs your help takin' care of Mister Shelby."

"Yes, sir." She started toward the cabin, but turned back. "You be careful, Pa."

He gave her a smile. "Always am. Now you scoot."

The cabin smelled like sickness when she entered. She remembered that smell from the time she and her whole family nearly died. Ben said he didn't know what his pa had, but he reckoned it wasn't contagious since he wasn't sick. 'Might just be old age,' he'd said, but he didn't think so. She reckoned Mister Shelby was in his seventies. He was old, but not real old. She'd never forget how he went down that hill like he was twenty to help her pa, or how he'd walked all those miles with her to the road-head to get Mister Edwards. She'd been awful lucky he was there. If it had just been Ben, and Ben had left to run his lines, her pa would have….

"No," the little girl said out loud. "You gotta remember that new picture."

"What was that, Laura?" her mother asked. Ma was by Mister Shelby's bed. She could hear him breathing real hard.

"Nothin', Ma." Laura wrinkled her nose but controlled the sneeze. "What can I do to help?"

"Get the fire going. Whoever was here let it go out. Mister Shelby needs to be kept warm."

"How is he?"

Her ma turned to look at her. She seemed to consider her words. "He'll be fine once he's looked after properly. Now you just get that fire going."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Laura cast a look at the bed as she moved through the cabin and went to the fireplace. It was the same bed her pa had laid in when he was bleedin' so bad. Once she got to the hearth, she found that the wood had been brought in and dumped in a pile by the stones. There were a few live embers still, so she found some tinder and stoked it a bit before placing a couple of pieces on it. When she finished and looked up, she found her ma standing close by watching her.

"Thank you, Laura. It's much warmer already."

The little girl stood up and dusted off the knees of her stockings. "Do you know what's wrong with Mister Shelby?"

Ma glanced behind and then turned back. "It seems to be an inflammation of the lungs. His chest is tight, and he's having some difficulty breathing. He said he had a cold and it just kept getting worse."

"He's talking?" Laura's eyes brightened. "Can I talk to him?"

Her mother pursed her lips. Then, she smiled. "Actually, I think it might do him some good. But only for a minute. Keep it brief."

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Laura was across the cabin like a shot. When she came close to the bed, she slowed until she stopped. It was just like Pa was layin' there again, breathin' hard – only Mr. Shelby didn't have a bandage on his chest with blood all over it.

Her mother placed a hand on her shoulder and shoved the tiniest bit. "It's all right. Go and talk to him."

When she got to the bed, Laura sat in the chair beside it and stared at the older man. Mister Shelby's eyes were closed and he looked really pale like oatmeal paste. He was panting kind of like Jack after a run. She remembered him as a big man – fat and round and jolly like Saint Nick – so she was kind of surprised to find that he looked…small. Sick people in beds were funny like that, though. They always looked smaller than they were.

Laura hesitated and then reached out and took the older man's hand. "Mister Shelby?"

He must have been asleep 'cause he didn't say anything. The little girl looked back at her ma, wonderin' if she should wait, but Ma encouraged her to try again.

"Mister Shelby? It's Laura Ingalls."

This time the older man stirred and turned his head toward her. He was blind, of course, so he couldn't see her but only hear her, so she talked again.

"I've come all the way up here to see you."

His hand lifted a bit. "Ch..child?"

"Yes, sir," she said as she gave his fingers a squeeze. "It's me."

Mister Shelby blinked and seemed to come awake. "Child? What are you doin' here?"

"Ben sent us – that's Ma and Pa and me – to look after you while he went to Sleepy Eye."

The older man's brow furrowed. "What's…that fool boy…goin' there for? He ain't got no need…to go there."

Ma was right behind her. "Mister Shelby, Ben said he had to go to make sure you didn't lose your land."

Sam Shelby blinked. "Who's that talkin?"

"That's my ma," Laura said.

"Hello, Mister Shelby. My name is Caroline. I'm Charles' wife."

"Charles?" He frowned. "That's that…feller who almost…up and died on me, ain't it?"

They looked at each other. "I'm afraid so," her ma replied.

"Seems he…made it home all right. That little…girl, she did too?"

Her mother shook her head and mouthed 'he's confused' before speaking. "That was Laura. She's right here. She's the one holding your hand."

Mister Shelby wiggled his fingers as if seeking her face, so Laura leaned in so he could touch it. He found her tears, of course.

"What're…you cryin', for, child? It's a fool…thing for a body to…cry when a man ain't dead!"

Ma smiled. "He's right, you know. Now, there's plenty to do. Are you hungry, Mister Shelby?"

"Where's that…fool woman what was here?" he asked. "She…was supposed…to make my breakfast. It's a...sight late now. Must be…near noon."

It always surprised her how Mister Shelby could tell what time it was without bein' able to see a watch or a clock. She guessed he did it by feelin' the light on his skin.

"We didn't find anyone here when we arrived," Ma said.

"Probably ran…off in the…night. I told Ben…she…weren't worth nothin'."

"Charles went to look for her."

"He…won't find her. She'll have…" Mister Shelby coughed. "She'll have…gone back to…her people. Good riddance…if you ask me."

Ma's brows were poppin'. Ben said the woman was an Indian. Maybe Mister Shelby didn't like Indians.

"I thought she lived over the ridge with a white family," Ma said as she moved to adjust his pillows so he was sitting up higher and could breathe better.

"They're kin. Took…her in when she was a little tyke, they did," he replied. "Hasn't…caused them anythin'…but trouble… since."

He was starting to cough bad.

"Laura, we're wearing Mister Shelby out. Go see if your pa is coming and then come back in. You can help me put some food together." Ma glanced at the older man. "I think we could all do with some good food."

"'Bout time. Ain't had a lick of it since…Ben left," he groused.

Laura hid her smile. He might have been sick, but he was still the same old Mister Shelby.

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Charles cautiously made his way down the hill. He was behind the Shelby cabin near the area where he had stumbled into the stream and lain for hours, half-dead. The Indian woman's tracks were hard to follow. It was obvious that she'd been trained to mask them. Still, he was a hunter, and he knew what to look for – a bent blade of grass, the shine on a rock where someone's sole had polished it; leaves fallen off a branch too soon. It was autumn and most of the ones on the ground were brown as the earth they would soon join.

Just ahead of him – near a brace of trees – were a good dozen that were crimson and gold.

He halted in front of the trees. "You may as well come on out. I know you're in there. I don't mean you any harm."

His words were met with silence.

"Now, c'mon. Whoever you're afraid of, it isn't me. I promise I'm a real nice fellow." Charles scratched his head, thinking. Ben had told him the woman's name. What was it? He wished now he'd been paying more attention. "Ben Shelby came to us for help. He sent us to take care of his pa. He said you'd be – "

"Who is 'us'?"

Well. Now they were gettin' somewhere.

"Charles Ingalls. I've got my wife, Caroline, and my little girl Laura with – "

"You must take them away! You must go!"

He crouched down so he was less threatening. That was something else you learned when you were hunting.

"Why should I go…Winona." That was it! "You're Winona, right?"

The grasses parted to reveal a moon-shaped face. Winona's skin was pale for a Sioux, indicating she was most like of mixed blood. She had wide dark eyes and hair black as the shadows she was hiding in. He couldn't see much else, but there was something about her – something unsettling – almost the air of a hunted animal.

And hunted animals could be dangerous.

Charles took a step back as the Indian woman emerged from her hiding place.

Knife in hand.

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to be continued…..