The Mystery of the Mountain

Dave looked in the rear view mirror and saw a cut on the side of his forehead, He was sure he had fallen yesterday, but the cut was beginning to heal. He stepped on the clutch, and felt a twinge in his leg. The pant leg was in tatters, ripped from the cuff to his knee in several places. When the ribbons of heavy cotton duck fell open, he saw two red, circular wounds. These were buckshot wounds, he was sure, but they were almost healed too. In an attempt to prove he was not losing his mind, Dave opened the action of the shotgun. An empty shell flipped out of the ejector port and landed on the seat beside him. The shotgun had not only fired, just as he remembered, but he apparently had also managed to shoot himself.

A trip to see Doc Jefferson was probably in order, but the next morning, Dave felt pretty good, and there was hardly any pain. Doc would have to ask a bunch of questions about the gunshot wounds for which Dave had no answers. It was better to find those answers first.

Two days later, he drove to Clyde’s for supplies. The old man put on a show of anger, but he was obviously glad to see Dave.

“Where the Hell you been? Hell, I figgered you got ate by a bear or sumpin. Good to see you didn’t.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You been comin’ to git supplies ever Wednesday since the thaw, and then I don’t see you for almost three weeks. What the hell am I supposed to think? You goin’ to go off in them woods fur that long, you oughta tell somebody, so’s we can go lookin’ if you don’t come back.”

Dave made an excuse about scouting for hunting spots, picked up his supplies and left. On the way back to the lodge, he barely saw the road. Thoughts flashed through his mind, confusing thoughts that would not let him piece together the two weeks he had lost, and fear of what could have been an explanation. He would have to go back to the canyon as soon as he was able.

The door was still there. He hadn’t dreamed it. The same tug on the lever produced the same hollow click, and soon he was standing back on the same ledge. With the shotgun on “safe” and hung over his shoulder by the sling, Dave started down the trail. This time, he saw the handholds chipped in the rock face, and made it to the canyon floor without incident.

Not much had changed. The beaver still swam in the small lake, and the eagles were soaring overhead. He almost missed the faint trail that led from the water’s edge toward the grove of large spruce trees. It was probably made by deer on their way to water, but following it seemed like a good idea. Just in case, he slipped the shotgun off his shoulder. As he neared the blue-green canopy, the smell of wood smoke wafted on a gentle breeze.

The tiny log cabin was hidden deep in the grove, and Dave would have missed if he hadn’t followed the faint trail. To the side of the faint path was the decaying skeleton of a blown-down spruce. Dave knelt behind it. No sense giving himself away until he knew who and what he was dealing with. .

Nothing changed at the cabin as the sun climbed from the edge of the cliff face to beam down from directly overhead. The needle-carpeted ground was cool and comfortable, the air warm and filled with the quiet drone of insects, and his eyes kept slowly closing. Without realizing it, Dave leaned back against the tree trunk and drifted off to sleep.

Perhaps it is the animal instinct that lies just beneath the veneer of civilization in all humans, or perhaps it was just imagination, but Dave rose from the depths of slumber with the feeling he was being watched. Without moving anything else, he slowly opened his eyes to mere slits. In his peripheral vision he saw a face, the same face that had appeared in his dreams when he was lying hurt. This time, the face didn't change to Walters or his old girlfriend. It stared intently at him with a half smile. The look changed to slight concern as he opened his eyes fully and turned to face his observer.

She was young, of that he was sure, but how young he could not estimate. Her face was deeply tanned, with pronounced cheekbones, a rounded chin and deep brown eyes, and was framed with black hair that cascaded over her shoulders to her waist. The wide mouth opened as if to speak, and then shut again. The girl rose as if to leave.

“Please don’t go. My name’s Dave Morrison. I’m looking for the person who helped me.”

The woman turned back. Dave rose to one knee.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Dave looked back to pick up his daypack. A low, menacing growl froze him motionless. The woman’s words came a little slow, as if she had learned the language only recently. He couldn’t place the accent.

“Don’t move fast, or Jake’ll jump on ya. He’ll chew ya up real bad if he thinks you’re gonna hurt me.”

Dave released the leather strap from the pack, and turned back to the girl. A large, almost white wolf sat by her side, and the flattened ears and snarling lips left no question that the threat was serious. How the animal had managed to get there, unheard and unseen, Dave could not imagine, but there he was.

“I just wanted to get my pack, that’s all.”

The girl absently draped her arm around the wolf’s neck and said something Dave couldn’t understand. The snarl changed to a grin, the ears perked, and the animal lay down beside her. Dave noticed that the wolf’s steel grey eyes never left him, and a slight chill slipped down his spine.

“I’m not going to try anything. I promise.”

“I fixed ya’ good, huh?”

“You took care of me?”

The woman smiled and nodded.

“Yes, you did. I’m fine, now. Thank you.”

“You’s hurt bad, and I fixed ya good. Momma showed me how.”

“You’re mother lives here, in the cabin, with you?”

“Momma lives with Daddy. They went up in the sky, with the Old Ones.”

“In the sky? Old Ones? I…I don’t understand.”

“I prayed them there. Momma and I did Daddy. I did Momma, all by myself.”

“They’re dead?”

She seemed frustrated and twisted her lips before answering.

“They’re not dead. They’re gone with the Old Ones. Now they live in the sky. Sometimes I see ‘em, here, in the trees, or in the water, but most times they’re in the sky, at night. Momma teached me how to see ‘em, and I see ‘em ‘bout every night, lessun the sky’s all cloudy.”

“Well, OK. I don’t understand, but I’ll take your word for it. What’s your name?”

“Daddy called me Ginny. Momma called me Weeginacho’te, and he couldn’t say it right, so he just called me Ginny. It means little brown mouse, but that was just my baby name. Now, I am Minaku – Eagle Spirit Woman. I dreamed it after my womanhood ceremony.”

“Your mother was a Native American?”

“Nope. Momma was a Blackfoot. Daddy said he was a real American, though. He said most people weren’t real Americans. He said Momma was an Injun, but that I was an American too, cause he was.”

It was late afternoon, and the sun cast long shadows from the spruce trees. If Dave left now, it would almost be dark when he got back to the truck.

“Well, I think Ginny suits you fine, at least until I learn how to say your other name.”

He started to rise, and heard the low growl again.

“I have to leave if I’m going to get home before dark. Will your wolf let me go?”

He was amazed to see the look of disappointment that flooded her face.

“You don’t hafta go. Ya can stay in the cabin with me and Jake if ya want. I like talkin’ with ya.”

The invitation left him speechless for a moment.

“Uh…, are you sure you mean that?”

“Yep. Ya can sleep in Daddy’s place.”

“What about your wol…, about Jake?”

“Jake’ll do what I say. Besides, I think he’s startin’ to like you. Come on and I’ll fix us up some supper.”

The woman rose and strode past him. As he watched her firm hips move sinuously beneath the short leather skirt, Dave felt an unexpected attraction to her. It was not his normal reaction to women. He couldn’t really explain it, but he really wanted to stay and talk with her. He also reflected that if Jake liked him, he’d hate to see how the wolf treated someone he didn’t like.

The cabin was one rectangular room smaller than the kitchen at the lodge. The dimming evening sun lit the interior through a few small, glass-paned windows. At one end was a fireplace of river stones with a log mantle. A cast iron pot hung from a swinging hook over a bed of glowing coals and emitted the scent of onions and rabbit. The aroma reminded Dave’s that he hadn’t eaten the sandwich in his daypack.

Ginny went to a shelf beside the fireplace and carefully took down two white bowls from the set of four. She picked up the wood ladle that sat beside them and dipped it into the pot. After filling both bowls, she turned and sat them on the rough table.

“I forgot to get water when I saw you. I’ll be right back.”

She picked up a wooden bucket, and walked out the door. Dave watched through one of the windows as she walked to the lake, dipped the bucket full, and started back. He turned back to the table, and came face to face with Jake. They were staring at each other when Ginny walked back into the cabin.

“Jake, it’s all right. He’s not gonna do nothin’ to me.”

The wolf turned, walked to a bed along the wall, and curled up beneath it.

“Come on, sit down.”

Dave was intrigued. Ginny seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

The rabbit stew was excellent, although Dave couldn’t figure out where Ginny had gotten carrots, onions, and potatoes. As he ate, the girl kept staring at him. When he scraped the last of the broth from the bowl, she picked it up, went back to the pot and filled it again. Dave couldn’t have protested, even if he had wanted to. The gesture was as great as the stew. He eagerly finished the second bowl, and pulled it away when Ginny reached for it again.

“No, please. I can’t hold another drop. It was really good, but I’m stuffed.”

“You eat good, just like Daddy did. He always liked rabbit stew. Not as much as deer stew, but you can’t hunt deer ‘til fall. They’re all skinny now, and the deer mommas have babies.”

“Do you hunt deer here?”

“No. There’s no deer here. I hafta go outside, through the tunnel.”

“So, it was you who killed the deer last winter?”

“I killed some. I hunt deer real good. Daddy taught me, but I don’t use his gun. It don’t have no bullets anymore. Momma taught me to make a bow and arrows, and I hunt with them now.”

“That tunnel, did you make the door?”

“Momma and I did. After Daddy went to live with the Old Ones, a bear came in through the tunnel. We killed the bear, and then made the door to keep out other ones. Bears are the old grandfathers of the woods, and they can be nasty sometimes.”

“Your momma must have been something else.”

Ginny’s face turned quizzical. “What’s that mean?”

“Just that she must have been a very special woman.”

“Momma could talk to the Old Ones. She came here, from her people in the North, to find a dream. She walked for three days without eating or sleeping, and then dreamed about a man who lived in a cave with no roof. She found the tunnel and walked inside. The man was there, and he took her to his house and gave her food. That night, Momma had another dream. The Old Ones told her this place was sacred, and that she should stay and take care of the man who lived here. Then the Old Ones gave her and Daddy a baby - me. Momma teached me how to be a medicine woman and how to take care of Daddy, and Daddy showed me how to hunt and fish.”

The coals in the fireplace were just a dull red glow, and only the feint light of dusk came through the windows. Ginny placed a few sticks on the coals, and they burst into flames. She placed them in holders around the room.

“This is pitch pine. Momma showed me where to find it.”

Dave marveled at this woman. How long had she lived here? He figured the man she called “Daddy” had to be the same man Clyde had told him about. That would have been thirty-three years ago. Ginny would be….

“Ginny, how old are you?”

She looked at him and her mouth fell open.

“I don’t know. I haven’t counted since Momma went to be with Daddy.”

“Counted? Counted what?”

“The marks on the wall, over here.”

The knife cuts were the standard four vertical slashes with one diagonal to make five. Ginny pointed them out with a finger.

“Daddy made these, then Momma, and then me, one for each winter. Let me count. One, two, three….” She looked at Dave and blushed. “Daddy told me not to say the numbers out loud, but I’m not used to having anyone else here.”

Ginny went on counting, her lips moving, but silent.

“Twenty-five plus four makes…twenty-nine. I’m twenty-nine. Is that old?”

She screwed up her face when Dave laughed.

“No, twenty-nine isn’t old. I’m thirty-eight, and I’m not old, so you’re still young.”

She smiled at him and he nearly pulled her to his chest. She was so innocent in some thoughts, yet so mature in others. He found himself wanting to protect her, but knowing she didn’t need protecting.

“How long has it been since…since your Momma went to live with the Old Ones?”

“That’s this mark here, so it would be…ten years.”

“What on earth have you done by yourself for ten years? Weren’t you lonely?”

“I just…lived. I hunt deer in the winter and make clothes, in the spring I plant the garden and hunt rabbits and squirrels. In summer, I fish and make other things, and in the fall, I gather seeds and put away food for the winter. Jake keeps me company.”

“And you never see any other people? Even when you go out through the tunnel to hunt?”

“Yes, I see other people sometimes, but they don’t see me. Daddy said other people would take away everything we had, and we should stay away from ‘em. He said that’s why he came here. I saw you lots, but I always ran away.”

“Then why did you help me?”

“I had a dream, one night. In my dream, the Old Ones told me about a man who was running away from something bad, something he knew was wrong and didn’t want to do. They said he was a good man, and he would come to me for help. Jake told me you came through the door to the tunnel. When I heard the shot, I went and found you layin’ on the ground. I brought you back to the cabin, and fixed your leg. I gave you medicine for your head, too, because you hit it on a rock. When you were almost well, Jake and I took you back through the tunnel and left you under the tree.”

“You and Jake? Did he grow arms and legs to help you carry me?”

Now it was Ginny’s turn to laugh. “No, silly. Jake pulled the sled. I teached him to do that, to help me when we go huntin’.”

One of the pitch pine torches sputtered and went out, and Dave realized he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He stifled one yawn, but another caught him off-guard and left him gaping in fatigue.

Ginny smiled again.

“It’s time to sleep. Daddy’s place is over there, where Jake sleeps. Don’t worry, he won’t do anything. He really likes you now.”

“How do you know that?”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“He told me.”

“Uh, Ginny, I need to go outside to…, well, I need to go outside.”

Her face was quizzical for a moment, and then his need dawned on her.

“Oh, so do I. I’ll show you where.”

They walked through the spruce grove, and although Dave couldn’t see his hand in front of his face, Ginny seemed to have no trouble seeing the trail. They quickly arrived at a little clearing beside the stream. Ginny lifted her skirt and squatted. Dave turned away quickly, embarassed by the sight.

“Don’t be afraid. Jake is watching.”

Sheepishly, Dave slipped down his fly and relieved himself, still facing away from the woman. He almost pinched himself to prove he wasn’t dreaming all this. He could still be lying on the floor of the canyon, hallucinating while waiting to die. He’d heard people tell of this, having very realistic dreams that seemed to span months, when in reality, they were only unconscious for a few hours. He knew it was real, though. Dreams were different than this.

When they arrived at the cabin, Ginny closed the door and went to bank the fire. Dave took this opportunity to gingerly walk to the bed and pull back the blanket. To his surprise, it was clean. The woman must still be keeping the cabin as if her mother and father were still living. He knew some people became a little odd after living alone for a long time, and this, along with the belief her parents were living with the “Old Ones”, must be her way of denying they were really gone.

He slipped out of his clothes, lay down, and pulled the blanket over himself. He heard the quiet panting of the wolf beneath him.

Ginny walked around the cabin, lifted the torches from their holders, and then tossed them into the fireplace. They made a last flare of flame, and then the cabin became dark. He heard her removing her skirt and shirt, and then the quiet padding of bare feet.

As Dave lay waiting for sleep he wondered what he should do with this woman. He thought he should probably take her away from here, away to civilization where she could get the help he thought she needed. Then he reflected that Ginny would surely not go of her own accord. He was still pondering this problem when he drifted off.

Dave felt something warm and wet touch his hand and instinctively jerked it back. He jumped to a sitting position and was temporarily disoriented by the strange surroundings. Then, yesterday came back to him.

Jake was sitting next to the bed, his pink tongue lolling out of the mouthful of wicked-looking teeth.

“See, I told you Jake liked you. He’s tellin’ you it’s time for breakfast.”

Fresh mountain trout was not his usual selection for the first meal of the day, but Ginny had outdone herself. The tender, white flesh flaked effortlessly from the bones and tasted of the crystal clear water of the stream and the smoke of an open fire. Dave easily finished the first, and welcomed the second when Ginny placed it on his plate. She offered a third, but he had to refuse.

They spent the morning on a tour of the canyon. Ginny showed him the pools in the creek that held the largest trout and together they watched the beavers leading their kits across the pond to a grove of aspens. As they walked toward a small grove of spruce trees, Jake flushed a rabbit. Dave watched as the big wolf easily ran down his prey and killed it with one swift bite. To his astonishment, the wolf then picked up the rabbit, trotted back to them, and laid it at Ginny’s feet.

Ginny said something in a low soothing voice, and it was obvious to Dave that the wolf understood her. The big animal wagged his tail, picked up the rabbit, and trotted off toward an overhang in the cliff face.

“Does he always bring you what he kills?”

“Most times, yes. Jake likes to take care of me, on account of I took care of him when he was a baby. He thought I might want that rabbit for supper, but we still got stew left, so I told him he could have it.”

The “we” was not lost on Dave. Ginny must be assuming he would stay another night.

The canyon was a microcosm of the outside, and Dave could understand why a would-be mountain man would stay here. Except for the absence of big game, the food supply was self-replenishing, and there would be few worries of intruders. If he hadn’t been following Ginny’s trail, he would have never suspected the entrance lay behind the big spruce.

Apparently, Ginny didn’t eat a mid-day meal, but after the trout, Dave wasn’t hungry. He supposed she had lived like this all her life, doing what she wanted when she wanted, eating when she was hungry, sleeping when she was tired, and in general, living life at the pace suitable for the moment. He thought of Walters and his former colleagues, always racing at breakneck speed to do something that usually didn’t mean anything in the long run. Often, he himself had worked furiously against a deadline, only to work just as furiously to return things to their former conditions a day or so later. At the time, it all made perfect sense, but Ginny’s lifestyle made a folly of all that. Why burn oneself out over things that will be quickly undone? Nature understood what was important, and Ginny lived by Nature’s rules, not by client demands and margin calls.