Tala’s heart raced and her breath came out in gasps. Tom stood leaning to the right, the left leg of his jeans ripped open at the thigh and bandaged with a thick layer of first aid tape, his wrists tied behind a tall oak tree. He stared straight in front of him, his face emotionless. Tala wanted to run and untie him, to scream, punch and kick whoever was hurting him. Why was someone being so cruel to him? How long had he been forced to stand on that hurt leg?
Then she saw him. The very hunter who had stayed behind, wearing the same plaid shirt, his long rifle glinting in the sun’s rays, stepped into view from the pathway leading down to the shore. They had seen no sign of him on their way here. He would’ve had to follow the shorter trail through the woods to get here so fast.
“Your brats aren’t here yet, eh?” he said, cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. “Well, I ain’t waiting all day. I’ve left the flag for my guys down there. Soon as they get here you’re coming for a long boat ride.” He plonked himself down on a log facing Tom and placed his rifle on the ground beside him.
“I told you before,” Tom said, his voice calm. “You’re waiting around for nothing. My kids are at home.”
“Those kids’ bikes I found near your truck don’t belong to no squirrels,” the hunter said, throwing his lit cigarette butt in the grass. “Someone snooping around and leaving an apple beside my bear, that’s just Indian crap. Only idiot Indian kids would do that. If those nosy brats don’t show up before my guys do, don’t you worry, we’ll come back for them.”
Tala heard Dason’s muffled sobs; she reached for his hand and squeezed tight. It wasn’t a good time to lose it now. If that sicko hunter heard anything, he’d aim his rifle at them right away. They had to figure out some way to rescue Tom. Her stomach was in knots and her heart drummed deep into the earth.
“Even if they were here—which they’re not,” said Tom. “It’s me you have a problem with, not two innocent kids.”
“Wouldn’t want those brats mouthing off,” said the hunter. “When they’re finish snooping around and they catch up with their Daddy, we’ll all go on a nice family boat ride.”
“Seems to me there’s only one idiot around here,” said Tom.
The man sprang up and rammed the end of his rifle smack onto Tom’s bandaged leg.
“Smart guys like you can get killed in a hunting accident, you know. We don’t have to wait for a boat ride to take care of things.”
Tala let go of Dason’s hand to peer more closely through the branches. Tom’s head was lowered towards his chest and he was biting down hard on his lip. The hunter had sat back down and was lighting another cigarette. She sat up with her hands fisted at her side. She had to think of something before that sicko killed Tom.
She caught a quick movement from the corner of her eye and turned to see Dason crawling past the arch in the birches. He must’ve been waiting for the hunter to have his back turned. What was he thinking of doing? She couldn’t afford to go chasing after him again; she had to stay here and wait for a chance to help Tom. The hunter might decide to go check for the boat and she could run and untie Tom. Her stomach turned over at the thought of the hunter catching them in the act.
She signaled for Dason to come back. He shook his head, tears tracing tiny streamlets down his grubby cheeks. “I gotta untie him,” he whispered, and he disappeared in the tall grass.
Her heart sunk lower than it had ever been; what if she never saw him again? She felt smaller than the tiny black ants scurrying across the top of her running shoes. She was alone now with only the pain in her heart to prove all this was really happening.
Tala edged back under the branches and looked towards the clearing. The hunter was walking in wide circles, checking his watch and blowing out grey clouds of cigarette smoke. Tom was back to his normal self, his eyes following the hunter as he circled round and round. What was he thinking, tied up and trapped like a bear? Was he waiting for the right moment when the hunter would come close enough for him to give him a karate kick in the head? Almost impossible, his hurt leg couldn’t support him. Was he pleading to all the Great Spirits, was he thinking of Anjij, was he crying inside for her and Dason?
At times his eyes darted in her direction. It’d be pretty hard for him to see her since she had to squint to get a good at him through the branches. Maybe he had caught a glimpse of Dason as he slid past the opening in the trees. His hammock was attached to the same tree he was tied to. Behind it were short bushy plants and grasses. Dason had a pretty good chance of sneaking behind to untie him, but what if he was seen? What chance did Tom and Dason have against a sicko with a gun? The idea of a rifle pointing at Dason’s head sent prickles from the top of her head down to her toes and she sat up straight, ready to pounce.
Dason had left his knapsack behind, probably to make it easier to crawl without being seen. The sight of his bag made her think of hers and she glanced back to where she had left it dangling from the poplar. The ravine ran in a straight line from the birches except for a slight bend where a bunch of tall grass blocked the view of the portal for a moment as you approached it. Her eyes shifted from the stand of high grass to the thicket of tall burdock that grew alongside the portal. Just at that moment, she felt all her muscles relax and her breathing became calm and steady. She reached for Dason’s knapsack and slipped it on her shoulders.
A deep slow breath and she stood up behind the birches. She had found a way to help her family. She couldn’t lie there and watch her father and her brother being killed. What could a wounded man and a little boy do to defend themselves against a crazy gunman? If she could manage to round that bend of tall grass and dive into the burdock bush while the portal was out of the hunter’s view, her plan might work. He’d see her knapsack hanging in the portal and head straight for it. Please Great Spirit of the Tree, she prayed, help me save my family.
She pushed the branches of the birches aside and stared right at the hunter.
He swerved towards her, rifle in hand.
“Good, one of your brats,” he said and bolted after her.
Tala heard Tom scream her name and she picked up speed. She’d always been a good runner and it was only a short sprint to the bend. Loud panting and boots stomping behind. Sickly smell of body odour and cigarette smoke. Loose strands of hair in her mouth tasting of spruce sap.
Just a few more feet. Tall willowy grass.
Stay with me Great Spirit. Protect me from this hunter.
Broad green burdock leaves. Crows cawing. Wood crashing on wood. Ground trembling. Thundering gunshot.
CHAPTER NINE
A flurry of leaves, twigs, bits of bark, and sandy soil whooshed through Tala’s hiding place in the middle of the burdock bush. Silence, followed by the distant roar of a bear. Citrusy smell of crushed spruce needles and cones. Clumps of round burrs clung to her hair and clothes. She dared not budge so not to stir the wide green leaves. Had the plan worked? She remembered the powerful rumble of trees and had felt the vibrations when they crashed to the ground, but what about the gunshot? Did the trees miss the hunter? If so, he must be still stalking her? Was the gunshot aimed at Dason? There had been only one shot. Was Dason bleeding to death just a few short feet away from where she was hiding?
Footsteps. Light snapping of twigs and dried leaves. Heavy thumps like someone pounding the ground. Tala’s heart beat faster. She dared not breathe. The sounds were getting nearer, louder. The thumping came to a stop inches away from her. Silence. A whiff of beef jerky. Tala lowered her head to try and peek out from the side of a huge leaf without having to disturb it. She froze. Her headband lay on the ground beside her shoe. Half of it lay in plain view outside her hiding place.
“Check behind that bush,” said a voice.
Tala sprang out of the burdocks.
Tom was propped up on a makeshift crutch in front of the portal. Dason was heading towards the burdock bush. She darted past Dason, swung her arms around Tom and pressed her face hard into his chest.
; “Easy kiddo,” Tom said, tottering sideways to steady himself on the crutch. “This old branch won’t hold both of us.”
He held her close with one arm without speaking, his heart drumming as loud as hers. Dason ran to them and hugged them both from the side.
She straightened out to examine his leg and he turned away, but not before she noticed the tears in his eyes.
“What happened to your leg?” Tala said.
“I tried to sneak back into the pickup,” he shrugged. “The bullet just scraped the top layer, it didn’t stay inside.”
He loosened his grip on the crutch to give his hand a break and winced. “It sure stings when I put a little weight on it, though.”
Tala examined the greenery sticking out from under the first-aid tape. “Nannie will be proud, you used comfrey leaves.”
He nodded. “The yarrow stopped the bleeding. Comfrey brought the swelling down a bit. This might slow me down, but it sure won’t kill me.”
Dason remembered the green mush Tala had put on his arm and he yanked off his bandage.
“My bee sting is all gone,” he said.
“Not so yucky, is it?” Tala said, tugging at the loose strands of hair sticking out of his bandana. “I figured he shot you.”
“We thought he shot you,” said Dason. “I heard the gun and I ran to untie Dad. We came as fast as Dad could hop here.”
Tala looked at the crutch. “That’s the sound I couldn’t figure out. That jerky smell sort of gave me a clue. I wasn’t sure who it was.”
Tom patted his shirt pocket. “I was holding back on it in case no one came for me today.”
He paused before turning towards the portal. The hunter lay with his head on the fallen poplar. The other tree had hit him straight cross the back of the neck.
“His rifle must’ve gone off when it smashed against the tree,” he said. “We’re lucky it didn’t go off in your direction.”
Tala turned to face away from them. The sight of the hunter reminded her that he was dead because of her. She had set a trap for him just as he did the bears.
Tom must’ve sensed how bad she felt. He reached out and touched her shoulder.
“Our ancestors sometimes hunted like this. They’d hang bait from the tree and when the bear came, the trees would tumble down. The bear didn’t suffer and the hunter would honor the Spirit of the Bear for giving its life to him.”
“I don’t want to honor him, Dad. He was mean and cruel. I just feel awful I had to end his life,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“Let’s say I gave you the last of our money to buy food so we wouldn’t starve, and you went off to the grocery store. Then some guy goes and snatches your purse and runs in front of oncoming traffic to escape. Would you still chase him knowing you’d both be run over by a big tractor coming at top speed?”
Tala shook her head, her hands fisted by her side.
“You didn’t end his life Tala. He was a grown man chasing down a child. It was his decision to run into that portal.” Tom said, tugging off a clump of burrs from the back of her shirt. “Feeling sad about someone’s death, even if you didn’t like him, means you have a good heart, and that makes me real proud.”
“He was going to kill all of us,” Dason said.
“Yes, and if it wasn’t for Tala’s smart thinking, we wouldn’t be here talking. She’s a brave warrior and so are you. That man was an experienced hunter. He should’ve known better than to go near that tree.”
She got a sudden urge to climb the highest tree she could find; being called a warrior was a great compliment, a word Tom used only in stories of bravery and good deeds.
“Tala a warrior?” said Dason, turning towards her. “Hey, what are you doing with my bag?”
She slipped it off without answering and dropped it on the ground by his feet.
Dason bent down to pick it up and paused. “You used it to trick him, didn’t you? That guy figured it was the same bag that was hanging on the dead tree. Nice one, Sis,” he said, grinning at her. “That makes me your partner.”
Tala pulled a handful of burrs from her shirt and flung them at him.
“I don’t want any partner, especially a pesky muskrat.”
Tom pivoted on his good leg and thumped forward.
“Let’s head back to the clearing. I need to rest this leg before the other one goes on me. We’ll talk on the way.”
Tala jogged back to the burdock bush to get her headband and shoved it in the front pocket of her jeans. Her stomach knotted up when she remembered her knapsack. It had dropped down beside the hunter when the trees crashed down. She’d have to ignore the shakiness in her legs and go pick it up. Images of headless monsters swirled in her head. She bends down. The hunter snaps his arm up and clutches her throat. A little voice told her to ask Dason to go fetch it for her, but her father had called her a warrior, and that meant she’d have to face the hunter herself.
“Come on, Tala,” Dason called.
“Give her some space,” Tom said, as he sprang forward another step.
Tala reached down to grab her bag and closed her eyes. Great Spirit of the Tree, she prayed, Thank you for showing me a way to help my family—and for giving me warrior courage to face this man.
When she straightened up and opened her eyes, her heart felt as light as a new blade of grass. She ran to catch up to the other two who hadn’t managed to get very far with the way Tom was hobbling along. Tom kept pace in the middle while Dason skipped alongside. Tala watched out for Tom’s crutch in case it got caught in the ruts and cracks of the trail. Her mind buzzed with everything that had happened and all the questions unanswered.
“How did you know where to find Tom?” she asked Dason.
“They led me here.”
“Who did?”
He didn’t answer, but grinned up at Tom instead.
She remembered just then, the squat shape and bright coloured beads she had spotted just before Dason dashed off. Could that have been one of the Stone People, the same ones who had carved that arrow in the rock, and if what Dason implied was true, had led them straight to Tom? She felt a warm wave of gratitude erupt from deep inside of her.
“Dason did real good,” she said to Tom. “He acts smarter here than he does back home. And he wasn’t too bratty.”
Tala started to protest, but Tom interrupted, “I’ve been sick with worry—those guys had our address from the registration in the pickup—” He paused a moment and took a deep breath before continuing. “And both of you alone at the house.” He turned to Tala, “Why didn’t you stay with Susan till I got back?”
“We had to find you, Dad. She would’ve called the—”
“They had guns,” Dason cut her off. “They killed a big bear.”
Tom nodded. “They caught me taking one of their traps apart. I tried to reason with them, but they were too scared I’d tell the cops. Then out of nowhere this huge black bird came diving towards them. By the time they looked back down, I was gone.”
“Was it the Culloo?” Dason said.
“I can’t say for sure, but it was big enough to hold their attention long enough for me to escape.”
Tom explained how he had hobbled his way, the same as he was doing now, to the clearing so he’d have a good view of both the river and the mountain trail. Sooner or later a search party was bound to come looking for him. The hunter had snuck up and pointed a rifle to Tom’s head while he was sleeping in the hammock.
“Can’t get over Dason crawling by the birches like he did. Didn’t even hear—” He stopped talking and turned to look towards the river.
“What is it?” Tala said.
It was a long while before he answered. “Thought I heard motorboats.”
“Must be the search party,” Tala said, bolting ahead.
“Hold it,” Tom called out. “Cou
ld be the poachers coming to pick up that other hunter. It’s best we see them before they see us. They sound pretty far from here, we’ll see better from the clearing.”
Tala slowed down and walked a few steps ahead of them with her eyes lowered. What if the hunters had seen her and taken a shot at her, or chased after her and discovered Tom and Dason? Why did she always have to mess things up?
“Hey, no harm done,” Tom said, taking two quick springs to catch up to her. “Young warriors need to learn not to be too hasty. Some old guys like me still haven’t figured it out.”
“You’re not that old, Dad,” said Dason.
“Old enough to know I’ll need Tala’s help to push these birch branches aside so I can get to my hammock,” said Tom, with a smile.
It felt strange for Tala to step into the clearing without being scared; a little over an hour ago she had been on the outside looking into a horror scene. Tom hobbled to the far edge near the rocky path and glanced down towards the water.
“I guess it wasn’t motor boats I heard before,” he shrugged and went straight to the oak tree where his hammock hung.
He gripped a lower branch of the tree to lower himself down to the ground, his bandaged leg held stiffly in front of him. Tala and Dason plonked themselves down on each side of him.
“If I lay down in that hammock I’ll pass out. Hope you brought lots of snacks. I’m on my last jerky stick.”
“We’ve got three apples left,” Dason said.
“Let’s share one while you bring me up to date on everything,” Tom said. “There’s a pretty good blackberry patch a little ways back we can all raid after. Maybe I’ll show you how to fish after with only a stick and a string.”
Tala and Dason took turns interrupting each other to tell him every detail. Tom took a real deep breath when they mentioned Officer Scott’s visit. He didn’t seem to focus so much on their stories after that. He perked up, though, when they told him about the culloo feather and he asked to see it. They seemed to be in a little world of their own, framed in by the shade of the two oak trees holding up Tom’s hammock. The noisy back and forth chirping and singing of birds around them drowned out all exterior sounds, including the steady footsteps coming straight in their direction.