Rescued girl warms up to Jack's assistance
Posted Jul 29, 2010 By John R.H. Tucker
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Tweet ThisChapter Nineteen (Cont.)
She stood and took a few tentative steps forward. She limped.
Jack made a quick decision. "Up here," he said, patting the driver's seat at the front of the wagon.
He gently helped her up. Then he removed saddle and bridle from Cloud and threw them behind the seat, swung up himself, and with a þick of the reigns, the wagon lurched forward.
They had travelled for three hours in total silence. He reached the edge of a bush of grey willows. As he drove the wagon along the perimeter he found he was entering a natural passageway formed by a second stand of willows on the left. In a moment he was driving the wagon into a sparse tall stand of birch trees. The land sloped gently downward. He moved forward until, through the trees, he could see water. He brought the wagon around in a clearing at the water's edge and stopped. A perfect spot. A brook Þfteen feet way gurgled and spilled its way into the lake.
He jumped down. Then he turned and held up both arms to help the girl down.
After a moment's hesitation, she stepped forward and he gently lifted her to the ground. She stood in front of Jack for a minute and looked up into his eyes. The top of her head came level with his chin. Finally Jack removed his hands from her sides.
The sun was setting now and Jack quickly went about the job of setting up camp. The girl was obviously hurting. He put down several blankets that he had retrieved from the wagon. He spread them carefully on a þat grassy area about six feet from the brook. A log lay on the ground perpendicular to the brook and Jack threw his saddle and more bedding over it to provide a comfortable rest for their arms or backs.
Then he led the girl over to the blankets and insisted that she rest there. She was stiff and had difÞculties walking. She had obviously been badly beaten.
Between the blanket and the lake he quickly built a small Þre. He put some water on to boil.
As he foraged in the wagon, he found more and more. Canned goods of every kind, tea and bread and þour. He even found lamps and a tent. The latter he quickly pitched next to the blanket for night was falling quickly now.
When he had Þnished erecting the tent the water on the Þre was boiling vigorously. He Þrst made some hot tea and gave it to the girl. Then he made some hot compresses. After some explanation and demonstration, she let him apply these to her exposed bruises.
He managed to Þnd a canned ham. He opened and removed it and drove two willows through the centre. He placed this over two Y-shaped willows erected on either side of the Þre and it was not long before he had barbecued the ham.
They both ate hungrily. Afterward they sat for a long time in silence and watched the red glowing sun sink into the lake. The night quickly grew chill and they huddled closer to the Þre. Its embers glowed white in the darkness.
"I've made a bed for you in the tent," said Jack in his shaky Cree. "You must get some rest."
She said nothing to this. Jack looked at her in the Þrelight. Her shiny black hair fell about her shoulders. She wore a doeskin dress. It had no sleeves but came down to her ankles. It was covered here and there with Þne quill work. Her black hair framed an oval face of tawny brown skin. Her lips were full but delicate, as Þnely carved as a Dresden doll.
It was her eyes, however, that had Þrst captured Jack's attention. They were so brown they looked black. As Jack had worked, she followed him with her eyes. When she looked sideways, he saw them almost disappear behind enormous black eyelashes. Arched above her eyes were lovely black eyebrows.
Jack thought she had quite the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
"What is your name?" he asked. She did not understand. "What is your name?" he repeated. Still she did not respond. She merely watched him from beneath her long eyelashes. The Þre sparkled in her dark eyes.
Jack tapped his chest with both hands.
"My name is Jack," he said. "I'm from Canada."
She looked at him.
"Canada," he repeated again. "Jack" he said, tapping his chest again.
"Kanata Jack," she said, still watching him.
"No, no," said Jack. "Well, yes, in a way," he said and chuckled. "My chums call me 'Canada Jack'."
After a pause, he said: "Canada Jack," tapping himself on the chest again. Then he pointed at her with both hands and said again:
"What is your name?"
She touched her chest with both of her hands.
"One Feather," she said.
Chapter Twenty
THAT NIGHT she began to shake once more. This time, however, it was not from either shock or fright. First she was chilled to the bone. Then she developed a fever. All night long and into the following day she drifted in and out of delirium. She muttered Cree in a soft anguished voice. Jack was able to understand little of it. He felt her forehead. She was burning up.
During each moment of coherence, he practically forced her to take something to drink, either tea or water. At these moments she seemed indifferent to her fate.
Desperately Jack searched the wagon throughout for some speciÞc that could help One Feather.
He pulled the drawer open and his eye fell on a white box at the back. He reached down and scooped it up. The label read: "Salicylic acid powder. The miracle drug. Good for fever, grippe, reumatiz and a host of other ailments."
The box was sealed. Quickly Jack ripped it open at one end. He put his Þnger into the Þne white powder and placed a few crystals on the end of his tongue. It had a bitter unpleasant taste. It was so pronounced that he screwed up his face in reaction.
There were no directions on the box. How much should be administered? How could he get her to swallow without choking? It never entered his mind not to try it. Such was his concern for the survival of One Feather.
He hurried down to the brook. He Þlled a glass to the brim with the cold clear spring water.
When he returned to the tent One Feather was experiencing one of her lucid moments.
Quickly Jack took a spoonful of the white powder. With gestures and in broken Cree he explained to One Feather she must place the white powder on her tongue and immediately wash it back taking all of the water.
Meekly she did as she was told. At Þrst she nearly gagged, but she did as he asked. She managed to wash it all back, drinking the water down to the last drop. Then she fell back and soon was off into delirium again.
Now Jack could only wait. Though he was not sure he Þgured this to be her third night of fever. He maintained his vigil scarcely leaving her side even for a moment. Then, at dawn something drew his attention to One Feather. It was her breathing. The once quick stertorous breathing was gone. Now her breathing was gentle, prolonged and relaxed. The sweating too had stopped. A wave of relief engulfed Jack. He fell back into a deep sleep.
John Tucker's tale continues in a future edition.
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