Wendigo

Chapter 6

Sara had finished her dinner, cleaned up the dishes, and was again sitting at the table, ready to read more of the journal. She sat looking at it while chewing on her fingernail, trying to understand why she had developed such an obsession with the journal and the people it involved.

Sara rationalized that her obsession was a combination of being essentially trapped in the cabin by the storms and the sheer boredom that had set in. In any other place or circumstance, she would never have become so fascinated with the journal. Not feeling well was also making her want some type of human contact so she did not feel as alone. While it was only words on paper, it was communication from someone.

Sara picked up the journal and looked more closely at the leather cover. It was simple and brown, with no embossing or marks on the leather. There was a leather strap sewn to the spine that was wrapped around it and tied to keep it closed. The paper pages were thick and rough. The book was beautiful on its own, even without the writing inside. Sara opened the book and began to read again.

November 12, 1879

Today was a good day, but we had a close call. The freezing and thawing we have been having weakened some of the cliffs. Today, we were getting ready to walk along the base of one when it caved off. If we would have been even a few seconds faster checking the traps, we would have both been crushed.

The rockslide meant that we could not get to the traps we had set on the other side of the cliff, and we will have to find another way to get to them tomorrow. In the morning, we will be leaving early and begin the search for a new trail. Sarah, you always told me that when something went bad, something good would come from it. I hope you are right about that this time. We need to have some good tomorrow.

November13, 1879

We had the good luck we needed today. It took us most of the daylight we had to do it, but we found a way to get around the rockslide. We collected our traps from that side of the cliff and will be setting them on this side of it further downstream than we normally go. I think it will be worth it. I hope it will be worth it. Jim says he has been there before, and we should have good luck there.

Jim gave me more of the blasted willow bark tea when we got back to the cabin. It is still horrible, but I have gotten used to the taste of it. While we were looking for a way to get around the rockslide, we found a big grove of willow trees, so Jim stuffed his pack as full as he could get it. He may very well have enough to supply me with the tea for the rest of my life.

As I write this, Jim is pealing the willow sticks he brought back. He says that will make it easier to make my tea later. He is cutting up all the bark and is going to tell me how much to use in case he is not here and I need it.

Jim has become like a brother to me, Sarah. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to him. I really don’t. He is one of the most honest, hardworking men I have ever known. He is telling me that the venison roast he put on for supper is done. I’m sure it will taste good, but not as good as yours, my love.

Sara stopped reading for a moment. She was thinking about what Herschel had written, the statement about Jim getting the willow bark ready to use. It made her think of something she had seen in a wooden box on the shelf.

Sara got up and went to the shelves. She started peaking in the wooden boxes on them until she found what she was looking for. She reached into the box and pulled out an old glass canning jar. The jar was filled with little bits of something that looked like sawdust or tiny wood shavings.

Sara opened the jar and sniffed the contents. She took one of the wood fragments out of the jar, placed it in her mouth, and bit down on it. The bitter flavor was unmistakable. That jar contained the willow bark that Jim had prepared for Herschel.

Sara smiled as she put the lid back on the jar and carefully slid it back in its place. The way Jim had processed the bark would make it easy to have a uniform dosage if it were measured and prepared the same way each time.

“Jim, you were a brilliant man,” Sara quietly said, still smiling. “I bet that stuff would still be good and work today if I needed it.”

Sara turned to go back to the table when she heard a dull thud on the side of the cabin. She stopped dead in her tracks, closed her eyes, and listened intently. Sara held her breath as she waited, hoping it was a branch that had fallen from one of the trees surrounding the cabin. There was another thud, followed by a snort that Sara was now very familiar with.

“Dang it, Ted!” Sara exclaimed under her breath, then muttered, “Stupid deer.”

Sara made her way back to the table and sat down. When she did, she stepped hard onto her injured leg, causing her to drop hard into the chair. She bit her lip as she looked down at the bandage in her leg. It was still clean, which meant the bleeding had slowed or stopped, and her leg was making attempts to heal. Sara opened the journal and continued reading.

November 20, 1879

The rockslide might prove to be a good thing if things continue the way they did today. We caught something in every trap we set. When we finally get all of these pelts to the buyer, I am going to feel like we are rich. Jim sure does know what he is doing, and even though we are splitting everything we make down the middle, I might be making more this year than I ever have.

I have been taking a flask of that willow bark tea with me when we run the traps. I drink it when we rest and have lunch. Drinking it more often is helping with my arthritis even more. Today I could almost keep up with Jim, and let me tell you, that is no small feat.

Sara giggled as she read the last sentence. She thought about her and her husband the first time he went backcountry hiking with her. Kevin was an experienced outdoorsman. However, his main activities were rock climbing and spelunking. He would spend days deep inside a cave exploring or sleep strapped to the side of a cliff with no problems. Keeping up with her as she trekked into the backcountry had him gasping for air. Sara had to stop far more times than usual so Kevin could catch up to her or rest.

The more Sara read the journal, the closer she felt to the men who had lived in the cabin. Her parents, especially her father, were responsible for her love of the outdoors. The first time they had taken her camping, she was still in diapers. Her father had taken her on her first backcountry hiking and camping trip when she was ten. She had been in love with it from day one. A few years ago, her father had developed arthritis, and he was forced to stop going on their trips together. Sara thought about how that had affected her father and how it would have been far worse for Herschel.

Sara was reaching for her trail mix when a faint sound caught her attention. It was difficult for her to pinpoint. The sound was a shuffling or dragging of something coming from the direction of the shelves.

“I really hope that’s a mouse,” Sara whispered. “The last thing I need is for this place to be haunted along with the crazy deer outside.”

Sara grabbed her flashlight from the table and tiptoed to the shelves. Cautiously, she began to peek in and around the wooden boxes on the shelves. She could find nothing. There were not even any droppings from rodents or insects.

“Perfect, a ghost instead of a mouse. Just what I need,” Sara grumbled as she went back to the table to begin reading again.

November 30, 1879

My bones are telling me we have some bad weather coming in. Jim says it will be a blizzard, and it will be here in the next day or two. Today, we went hunting to make sure we have plenty of meat to sustain us through this storm. Tomorrow, we are going to pull all of our traps and bring them back to the cabin. They are no good to us if they are under three feet of snow.

Jim is concerned about the coming weather. He took care of the small deer we managed to get while I stacked firewood from floor to ceiling on either side of the door and along the walls outside the door, so it is close. By the time we were both done, there was barely room for us to move around in here.

The shelves are still stocked with onions, potatoes, turnips, wild rice, and dried mushrooms, and berries. We still have most of our salt, pepper, flour, sugar, and coffee, so we should do well for as long as we need to be in this cabin. It might not be enjoyable, but we will do fine for a while. As long as the storm and snow don’t last for too long and we don’t run out of meat.

“Dang Herschel, you and Jim were eating better than I am,” Sara mused as she looked at her bag of trail mix on the table and thought about her freeze-dried food supply.

Sara yawned and stretched, her muscles in her side and back spasming when she did, causing her breath to catch. She flipped the page in the journal to find the following passage was longer than others had been. After a moment's contemplation, she decided going to bed and reading more in the morning would be the best option.

Sara marked her place and closed the journal. She began to rummage around in her backpack to find another chemical light stick. The one hanging from the ceiling was dimming, and Sara knew it would be out in the next couple of hours. She broke the new lightstick and shook it before taking the old one down and replacing it. When she was done, she tossed the old one into a corner where it would not be shining in her eye as she slept.

Sara crawled into her sleeping bag and rolled onto her side, facing away from the light. She was used to sleeping in lit rooms and outside during the day. The glow of the light stick did little to bother her as she dozed off for the night.