Wendigo

Chapter 7

Sara had awoken to feel less sore than she had the day before. She changed the bandage on her leg, which was healing nicely. The wound was no longer bleeding and was showing no signs of infection. She didn’t even need to take any pain medication, which brightened her spirits. If the storms would break, she would easily be able to hike out of the forest and head home to continue her recovery.

Sara chose her breakfast carefully. While staying in the cabin, she was eating less. That meant whatever she cooked for breakfast would also be her lunch and dinner. After Sara made her choice and started cooking her breakfast, she took the cast iron pot outside to collect her water for the day. She wanted to get everything started so she could at least text her husband to let him know she felt better.

Sara went back inside and sat down at the table. She picked up her phone and checked the signal. She crossed her fingers as she dialed her husband's number and listened to his phone ringing.

Kevin answered, “Hello, my love. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Better, thank you,” Sara told him happily. “I’m not as sore this morning, so as soon as the weather breaks, I am out of this cabin and on my way home.”

“That is amazing news. You have no idea what a relief it is to hear you say that.”

“I thought that might make your day even though it hasn’t even really started yet.”

“That may be,” Kevin said. “But it is still probably the best news I will hear today.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not. By the time I am done with this audit and investigating, there are a few people who will be lucky if they do not go to prison.”

“Wow,” Sara said. “Now I understand why it was such an emergency for you to do it. I mean, it sucks that you weren’t able to come with me, but I get it.”

“Yeah, that’s the way I feel about this mess, too. But I promise we will go to that forest together as soon as possible.”

“I know,” Sara said. “It’s okay. I’m marking everything on my map, and I am kind of enjoying it. Even with falling off a cliff embankment, getting hurt, and being essentially trapped in this little cabin by storms.”

“Well, that reading material you found is making things more interesting, isn’t it?” Kevin chided. “What new adventures has Herschel regaled you with now?”

“Make fun all you want, but I feel this sort of connection to him and his trapping partner, Jim,” Sara told her husband. “He enjoys the peace and solitude of this forest and the wilderness the same as I do. Reading about him going about his day and how, at times, he struggled with pain from his arthritis makes me really care about him and Jim. And something happened in Herschel’s life that made him leave Missouri and come here to Minnesota to become a trapper. I need to know what that was.”

“I have the feeling this journal and the men in it will still be with you when you get home, won’t they?”

“I think so, depending on what’s in the rest of the journal. If something bad happened to one or both of them, I want to find their families, so they know what happened. It might have happened generations ago, but their families deserve to have that closure, don’t they? Am I crazy for thinking that?” Sara questioned.

“No, I don’t think you are crazy for wanting to do that. I think that is one of the traits that makes you so special,” Kevin told her softly. “You want to take care of everyone who needs it. That is part of what makes you such a great nurse. You care. Herschel was probably middle age when he wrote that, if not older. He is long gone, and so is Jim. Yet, you have developed a connection with both of them and genuinely care about their families. You are absolutely one of a kind, and I love you so much because of it.”

Sara could feel herself tearing up a little and did everything she could to hide it as she spoke. “I love you too. You have no idea how much better I feel knowing you don’t think I’m crazy, or at least not crazy for this.”

“I don’t think you are crazy at all. If I thought you were crazy, I would never have asked you to marry me.”

“Are you sure? Maybe I just hid it well until I had that ring on my finger,” Sara teased.

“Oh, I’m sure. Why do you think we dated for five years before I proposed?” Kevin teased back.

“I see how it is,” Sara laughed. “Hey Babe, sorry to cut this short, but I think my breakfast is ready, and I need to go collect my water pot from outside before either the storm picks up again or the stalked deer drinks it.”

“That deer is still hanging around?” Kevin asked with a tinge of worry in his voice.

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Ted isn’t aggressive, well, except for pushing me down the hill. Truthfully, that could have been an accident. The storm might have panicked him; he bolted, and I happened to be in the way,” Sara defended.

Kevin began to laugh, “You are still calling him Ted?”

“Why not? He needs a name, and that is as good as any.”

“Fair enough,” Kevin said, still chuckling. “I will let you go so you can get everything done. I love you, bye.”

“I love you too, bye,” Sara replied and then hung up.

Sara placed her phone on the table before moving to where her camp stove was set up and removed her breakfast from it. She carefully set the steaming pan on the table before making her way to the door to get her pot of water. Sara opened the door to see the deer standing motionless just feet away, water dripping off his antlers.

“Don’t you dare!” Sara scolded the deer.

Sara grabbed the handle of the Dutch oven, never taking her eyes off the buck. The buck watched her and responded with a single ear flick as she closed the door and tied it shut.

“What the frack is wrong with that freaking deer?” Sara asked under her breath.

She set the pot on her camp stove and turned it on to start boiling. Typically, rainwater that is collected is safe. However, she wanted to make sure the water was sterilized. With the deer hanging around, the buck may have drunk from it, and she would rather be safe than sorry. When she was done, Sara sat down at the table and picked up the journal, eager to continue.

December 1, 1879

The blizzard began today. It was earlier than we expected, and because of that, Jim may die.

“What?” Sara uttered. She was entirely caught off guard by that sentence. She felt like she had just been told a family member was in an accident. Sara closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath to regain her composure before she went back to reading.

We were attempting to gather our traps. Jim was some distance ahead of me when the hillside gave way under his feet. I don’t even know how far he fell. I do know he is badly injured. It felt like it took me forever to climb down to where he was. While I was climbing down, I slipped and hurt my shoulder. I still managed to get him uncovered. It took hours for us to make it back to the cabin. By the time we reached it, we were in blinding snow that was nearly hip-deep.

I am doing everything I know how to do to take care of Jim. He is awake, so he can tell me some of what I need to do. I know he has broken bones and bruises all over. He has a deep cut on his head, and I am doing my best to staunch the bleeding. He is telling me it is hard to breathe, and it hurts. That is making him cough. Jim also says his belly hurts him, and it looks like it is swollen.

I hope what the both of us know about medicine is enough to keep him here with me. Of all the men I have known in my life, he is the closest thing I have ever had to a brother.

“Oh, God,” Sara stammered.

She began to run through the possible injuries they might have, and all were grim at that time. Jim could have broken ribs, a punctured or collapsed lung, ruptured spleen, a lacerated liver, a traumatic brain injury, and a number of other injuries, all of which would almost certainly be fatal in that era. Even Herschel’s shoulder injury could be life-ending if it prevented him from caring for himself or Jim.

Sara’s heart sank the more she thought about what Herschel had written. She looked to the shelves and the wooden boxes that still contained personal items. Sara had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew how this would end for the two men. She had to keep reading so she could tell their story.

December1, 1879

Second entry. I can’t sleep because of the pain in my shoulder. I laid down, but with every breath or movement I made, pain shot through it. I have tried the willow bark tea, but it isn’t working on this.

Jim’s breathing is loud and ragged. He is in a fitful sleep, groaning from time to time. He was able to take in a little broth and some of the willow bark tea, which seemed to help him to be able to rest more comfortably. He feels cold to the touch, sweating and shivering as if he has a chill. I am doing my best to keep him warm and comfortable. Jim is strong. I hope what I am doing is enough.

Sara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Jim was in shock due to his injuries, and there was very little Herschel would be able to do to help him. Even with all of the marvels of modern medicine, those types of injuries would have a low survivability rate if they happened in an isolated area like this forest.

December 2, 1789

Jim woke up this morning and asked for fry bread. I have never been so happy to cook breakfast for someone in my life. I wasn’t sure he would make it through the night, and he did. He only took a few bites of bread, but he drank some broth and willow bark tea. He is back to sleep now, and he seems to be breathing a little better than he was last night. I don’t know, though, maybe it just sounded worse because of how quiet the night is.

Sara felt herself breathing a sigh of relief. She knew that Jim making it through the night was a good thing. Yet, she also knew that it did not mean he would survive his injuries.

She closed the journal and got up to make herself a cup of coffee. Sara turned off her camp stove and carefully dipped a cup of water from the bubbling pot. Returning to the table, she proceeded to spoon her instant coffee into the cup and absently stirred it as she gazed at the journal.

That little book was turning into the most soul-crushing thing she had ever read in her life. As someone who loved tearjerker movies and books, none of them compared to the quaint, honest narration within the journal’s pages.

Sara sat her cup to the side to cool as she picked up the journal again. She almost felt as if she needed to brace herself for what would come next.

December 2, 1879

Second entry. I made some venison soup today for us for supper. I thought it would be something that Jim could eat. He only took a few bites of it like he did of his breakfast. Jim also took a few bites of fry bread we had left from breakfast. He also drank most of a cup of willow tea with his food. He seems to be making some progress. I hope that continues. I need him. He will never know how important he has become.

December 2, 1879

Third entry. Jim slept for a while before waking and asking for water and more fry bread. It does my heart good that he can ask for water and food and that he wants it. Each time he wakes, he seems to be a little more comfortable than he had been earlier in the day.

I am beginning to worry more about the storm raging outside. The snow is already deeper than I have ever seen it, and it is still falling hard. It is half-way to the top of the door. If we need anything that is not in this cabin, we will have to do without.

I am struggling to keep the fire going as hot as it needs to be. Busting my shoulder was the worst thing I could have done with Jim being hurt the way he is. Lifting the larger pieces that I need to hold the fire in this storm is nearly impossible. I have to keep the chimney hot enough that the snow won’t cover it and stay. If it does, it will smother out the fire in the stove. That fire is what is going to get us through this.

Sara leaned back and sipped her coffee. She had been feeling sorry for herself about how bad things were for her. The conditions for Herschel and Jim were so much worse. She looked at the little cast iron stove and thought about what it would be like to have her life depend on being able to keep a fire going in it. The thought of that sent another shiver down her spine.

A sound near the shelves caught her attention once more. Sara sat quietly, watching the shelves for any movement that might clue her in to what was making the noises. While she looked at the shelves, she caught the silhouette of a person walking beside her. Sara jerked her head to the side, where she was met with nothing.

“Nope,” she said as she stood and moved toward the door. “I need some fresh air. It has to be from the air quality. I must be hallucinating because of a build-up in carbon dioxide or carbon monoxide from my stove. Maybe I do have a head injury, and that is what is happening.”

Sara untied the door and slowly opened it, looking for the deer as she did. She wasn’t concerned about the buck out of fear. She was worried he would come inside the cabin and then refuse to leave. With no sign of the deer, she opened the door wide and took a deep breath of the rain-soaked air.

She had not realized how stuffy and stale the air in the cabin had become until now. Sara began to look around for something to keep the deer out and still let in the fresh air. A gust of wind blasted into her as she stood in the doorway so hard that it knocked her off balance. She stepped back inside and closed the door, tying it shut again.

“So much for that idea,” Sara muttered. “Maybe after this line of storms passes.”

Sara returned to the table, taking a deep breath of the noticeably fresher air. She began to dig through her backpack until she found a bag of her favorite trail mix. She took a sip of her coffee and wrinkled her nose. It was cold, and the cup was almost empty. As much as Sara liked to drink coffee while she read, she opted not to make more as she went back to the journal in front of her.

December 3, 1879

Jim asked me to fry a venison steak and a potato for him for breakfast. He managed to eat about half of it before he tired out and had to stop. I got him to drink more water, broth, and willow tea, which seems to be helping him.

He let me look at his leg today. It is bruised worse than I have ever seen on anybody before, but I don’t think he broke it. That is a load off both our minds. If he had broken it, he wouldn’t be able to walk out of here when he heals some, and I couldn’t have set it with my busted shoulder.

His belly still looks like it has swelled up, and it is bruised along with his chest, back, and most of the rest of him. He says his head is still hurting, but not like it was. He is not bleeding anymore from his head. That is another good sign and gives me hope that he might be on the mend.

I sit here looking at our food store, and I am a little worried. The deer we got was small, and we were counting on at least one of us being able to get out and hunt, even with the snow. The way this snow has piled up, I don’t know if I would be able to get out of the cabin and look for anything, even if I was not hurt. Being hurt, I know there is no way to do it, and I know Jim cannot either. He can barely sit up enough to drink from a cup. It will take a long time before he can do much at all around here.

Sara leaned back in her chair. She looked at the pot of jambalaya she had cooked for the day and felt a pang of guilt. It was irrational, and she knew that yet she felt it. Even if Sara ran out of food, she would be capable of getting more. It would mean she would be rained on as she hiked back to her car. Herschel and Jim faced potentially starving to death if they could not get out of their cabin and hunt for game. Even if the weather were not a factor, with their injuries, that would not be possible.

Sara tried to push the guilt out of her mind. The journal had been written well over a century before she was born. There was nothing that she could do to change anything. Not even her parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents could have helped the two men. She braced herself as she began to read again.

December 3, 1879

Second entry. Jim is not feeling very well now. He had a coughing fit, and now he is having trouble breathing. I did manage to get him to take a few bites of food and some sips of water and willow bark tea.

I am worn out. I get up several times during the night to tend to the fire and check on Jim. If that was not enough, my busted shoulder keeps me from sleeping when I should be. I don’t know if being tired can kill you, but if it can, that might be what takes me. I think I am going to lie down for a while and see if I can rest.

Sara was feeling tired as well. While minor compared to the men she was reading about, her injuries were still painful and interrupted her sleep. She closed the journal and decided she would try to take a nap since she was having trouble keeping her eyes open as she read. The journal would have to wait.