A Hope for Hannah (7 page)

“Every night,” Jake said, “even with the heavy rain.”

“Rain doesn’t stop them much,” the young officer replied, chuckling. “Foraging for the winter, I’d say. It won’t be long before the snows start. Let’s take a look around, then. There ought to be some tracks out yet.”

Jake led the two men to the spot along the bedroom wall where the noises had come from. Hannah followed and watched. The officer bent close to the ground for a better look and grunted as he used his finger to draw the outline of a faint print.

“Bear all right.”

“Grizzly?” Jake asked.

“You think it was a grizzly?” the officer asked.

“Yes,” Jake told him.

“How could you tell?”

“It had a hump on its back—a big one.”

“You saw it?”

“The first night,” Jake said.

“You got a good look?”

“Sure. I saw it with my light.”

“Let me see your light,” the officer said.

Mr. Brunson seemed agitated at the officer. “Do you doubt his word? It was a grizzly. What will you do about it? These are nice young people. There’s no reason for a grizzly to be haunting them at night, let alone eating my pig.”

“Let’s see the light,” the officer repeated and then continued to study the ground as Jake went to get it.

“Anything else bothered around here that you know of?” he asked, this time directing his question in Hannah’s direction with a turn of his head.

“The bear was in my garden,” Hannah said. “I found paw prints. Then Jake found scratches on the springhouse this morning.”

“Are you missing anything?” the officer asked.

“Maybe some tomatoes, but I don’t know if bears eat tomatoes.” She grimaced. “There’s nothing missing in the springhouse. Jake built it strong.”

“You keep meat in the springhouse?” the officer asked Hannah.

She nodded. “We don’t have refrigeration.” Then she added with a smile, “It’s cheaper that way.”

“I suppose so,” the officer allowed. He stood up again as Jake came back with his light. “It also attracts bears.”

“Now, don’t you go blaming us,” Mr. Brunson said. “These young folks are doing real well here. They don’t need a bear messing things up. Folks ought to be able to live the way they want without the law coming and saying otherwise.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” the officer said, answering Mr. Brunson. “I’m just saying that if the bear didn’t get in this time or thinks it can’t next time, it probably won’t be back.”

“Now, don’t be saying that either,” Mr. Brunson said, still sounding put off by the officer’s casual attitude. “Ignoring the problem won’t solve it either.”

The officer ignored Mr. Brunson and reached for Jake’s light. He flicked the switch and sent the beam first against the wall of the cabin and then out across the garden. Even in the day with the sun about to break through the dark clouds, the light reached underneath Hannah’s tomato plants.

“Good enough,” the officer said. “So it might be a grizzly.”

“That’s what the man said,” Mr. Brunson snapped.

“A black bear isn’t much of a problem,” the officer said, directing his remark toward Jake and ignoring Mr. Brunson. “Problem black bears can be disposed of easily—if we have to. Grizzlies are another matter. Where this one came from, I don’t know. There are some in the south Cabinet area, but they usually stay there. It might be from the Bitterroot or Bob Marshall areas. Either way, we could have it trapped and taken back, but it might not do much good. Bears are like that.”

“So why not just take it out?” Mr. Brunson asked. “If you can’t do it, I can.”

The officer looked at Mr. Brunson skeptically. “I hope you’re just joking. Grizzlies are protected around here. Unless you want to tangle with the Feds, not to mention us, you better leave this bear alone.”

“That’s what I thought,” Mr. Brunson answered, fairly pouting, his voice low in a tone Hannah had never heard him use before. “Little use you people are. Home and property could be eaten up with no help coming from the authorities.”

“Let’s take a look at this springhouse of the Byler’s.” The officer gave another sharp glance at Mr. Brunson. “Then I’ll file my report. We’ll see that the problem is taken care of one way or the other.”

“What about my property?” Mr. Brunson asked. He didn’t sound mollified at all.

“We’ll take a look at that too,” the officer said, his voice restrained.

The officer walked with Jake, looked carefully at the springhouse, lifted the heavy door, and then let it swing shut.

“It’s well built,” he concluded. “It should be okay if you keep it shut tight. Never let it get in, though. Once it does, you’ll have to tear this down. Bears would never forget such a haul. This would give them a big one.”

“Sounds like you plan on this being a long-term problem,” Mr. Brunson said.

“We’ll do something,” the officer said, assurance in his voice.

“You’d better,” Mr. Brunson said.

The officer asked a few more questions of Jake and Hannah and then left. He followed Mr. Brunson farther up the dirt road to look at the site where Mr. Brunson’s pig had been eaten.

At around three o’clock, the rain started again, chasing Jake from the yard to the barn where he started a new woodworking project. He had told Hannah he was going to build a log dresser for the master bedroom and a crib for the baby. The latter made Hannah feel reassured and cared for by Jake, and it was a diversion from thinking about the troublesome bear.

The rain also brought Jake’s boss to the cabin just before supper. His truck rattled to a stop in front of the cabin. Jake opened the front door and greeted him with, “It’s good to see you,” and he stepped aside to let the burly man come in.

“I can’t stay, son,” he said, his eyes not meeting Jake’s. “I have bad news.”

“Yes,” Jake said, a catch in his throat that Hannah heard all the way out in the kitchen.

“I just lost my next contract—the big one behind the Cabinet Mountains. I’m afraid I have to lay off half the crew until work picks up again, what with winter coming and all.”

Jake said nothing, the silence so loud Hannah gasped.

“I’m sorry, son,” the man’s voice reached Hannah clearly. It carried genuine compassion, like an attempt to put salve on a wound. “It’s hard for all of us. That’s why I came to tell you myself.”

Eight

The rest of the evening seemed to drag on forever. Jake sat in the living room under the light of the gas lantern, but he was in his own world. Hannah shed her tears in the kitchen, taking care to hide them from Jake. This was hard enough on him. Her tears would only add to the burden of everything else. She would stop by the couch, rub his shoulders, and then move on.

“Would you like some supper?” she asked, trusting her voice at the moment to not break down.

Jake shook his head, his eyes staring blankly out the front window. “We have to have money to live on,” he said, his voice low.

She almost spoke the old cliché
We can live on love
but caught herself. The silliness of it almost brought the tears again.

“I’ll make you supper anyway,” she said. “You need it.”

“I need a job,” he said, his voice flat. “I need to take care of you and the baby.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and then simply allowed the tears to come, not caring that they dampened the top of Jake’s head.

“Maybe this is a sign that we should go back to Nappanee,” she whispered. She saw their condition in its starkest terms, the darkness outside driving her thoughts.

“We can’t,” he said, his voice still flat but determined. “We can’t leave this place. I don’t see how.”

“But the baby’s coming,” she said softly. “Winter will soon be here. You heard what the officer said—they’re not going to do much about that bear. It’s a grizzly, and they’re protected by law.”

“We just can’t,” he said quietly, his elbows now on his knees, his face in his hands. “We belong here—both of us. We belong to this place, this country, this church. I just feel it. I’ve felt it since the first time we came here. It was to be you and me—together—here.”

“But things change. We all dream,” she said. “Sometimes it’s not right, not what we think it is.” She felt his shoulders stiffen under her hands.

Smiling gently, he said, “We’re supposed to stay here.”

“But what will we do? Lose the cabin? At least if you sold it now, you could get plenty of money for it. In the winter, who knows? There might be no buyers then.”

Jake turned to face her, his young features drawn in pain. The tears stung her eyes again as he took both her hands in his.

“Yes, it might be easier,” he said slowly as if the thought was still forming in his mind. “But to do what is right is always best.”

Hannah was silent for a moment and then simply said, “But what will we do, then?”

“I don’t know,” Jakes said, “but we need to stay. I’ll go look for work tomorrow. Something will turn up.”

“There are plenty of jobs at home. I know Dad could get you in where he works. They pay well.”

“Let’s try here first,” he said with a sigh, weariness filling his young face and stirring compassion in Hannah.

“You are the brave one,” she said, kissing his forehead. “I always thought I was, but you are so much braver.”

“No,” he said, “you really are. You married me.” A slight grin played on his face. “Any regrets?”

“Don’t say that,” she said, chiding him. “Of course not.”

“Your Sam wouldn’t be out of work,” he said.

This made her laugh. “Me, a farmer’s wife? No, I don’t think so.”

“Is that the only reason?” he asked.

She laughed again. “You silly, of course not!”

“Just checking.” He let go of her hands. “Now, about that supper, is the offer still good? I feel a little better.”

“Wait a minute,” Hannah said. “You mentioned Sam, but what about that girl? Do you wish she hadn’t jilted you? She was much better looking than me.”

“No she wasn’t.” And with that, Jake stood and kissed Hannah.

When they parted, Hannah said, “I’ll start our supper.”

“Supper—” Jake agreed, “let’s have a good one.”

Hannah sent Jake out to the springhouse for ham, potatoes, and a head of lettuce. When he brought the items in, Hannah put him to work peeling the potatoes and then asked him to wash the bowls she had finished using. This kept Jake occupied until the gravy was done.

An hour later they sat down to the meal—ham with mashed potatoes and gravy, corn from her garden, salad with cut tomatoes, and cake left over from earlier in the week. Jake bowed his head for prayer and surprised her when he prayed out loud. The words sounded melodious—reverent—and they soothed Hannah’s heart, seeming to catch the spirit of her feelings. The young couple was being pushed out of their youth, their innocence, and their ideals and into a world they had never been in. She could see it in Jake’s face as his lips moved, forming the German words. She could feel it in her own body, which now held their child. She wept from the sheer overwhelming strangeness of this world that lay before them.

“It’ll be okay,” Jake said as he reached for her, his fingers finding their way to her hands and gripping them. “We’ll make it.”

Hannah wished she had Jake’s confidence but simply nodded, pulled her handkerchief from her apron pocket, and used it until her emotions were under control.

“It’s hard, I know,” Jake said, “but God will help us.”

Hannah took comfort in the words, but most of all she took comfort that Jake had said them. Never before had he said anything like this, in this tone of voice and with this amount of confidence. She clung to the anchor offered, not certain whether it came from Jake, his words, or the God to whom he had directed his prayer.

They finished their supper in silence by the light of the kerosene lamp. Afterward, Jake helped dry the dishes, and after the last plate was done, he returned to the living room while Hannah lingered in the kitchen, putting away the rest of the things.

She could hear the soft rustle as Jake turned the pages of whatever book he was reading. Through the window she watched the moon rise above the Cabinet Mountains. It was full, a circle of shimmering glory suspended above the tops of the last pine trees that formed the boundary between land and sky.

Here in Montana the moon stirred her in ways it never had in Indiana. She had never understood why and often wondered if it was the lack of factory lights or towns on the horizon. Perhaps the mountains themselves caused this feeling of wildness, this untamed shiver that ran down her back.

This land had always seemed to be her friend, especially on nights like this when the moon ruled the sky. Yet now she had a deep unsettled feeling that nature had a mind of its own, a mind unfriendly to the presence of humans, and that it regarded them as interlopers, much as she viewed insects in her garden. She shook her head but was unable to shake the sense of uneasiness.

Hannah finally hung up her apron and joined Jake in the living room.

“It quit raining,” Jake said, trying his best to make casual conversation.

“It has,” she agreed.

“I’m going into town tomorrow, to Libby.”