Back To Our Beginning (41 page)

“He don’t say much ’bout it, but I know he misses his mama. He don’t blame her none for runnin’, jist for not taken him with her, but if’n she had both me and Cord knowed his daddy woulda hunted her down. If’n he had found her, the next time he beat her woulda been the last,” Clint said and grimaced. “Cord can be rough, but mostly he jist uses his size and words to scare women.”

“He can be very intimidating.”

“But now you, you wasn’t scared a him. When Shanie stood up to him it jist made him laugh ’cause he figured she wouldn’t really know what a man could do to a woman. But you would know, you havin’ kids and all.”

“I was afraid of him.”

“But you didn’t back down. Drove him crazy, I could tell. At first he figured we could break you into submission.”

“What?” Tansy squealed in outrage.

“Now don’t get your dander up, I told him no outright. Then after a while you kinda became a challenge. Now he jist likes to tease you.”

“Well bully for him.”

Clint brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. “I ain’t given’ up.”

Tansy was glad. She liked this man. She rose to her feet and offered him her hand. “It’s time for dinner.”

“Hell, I’m for that, I’m starved. What we havin’?”

“I’m not sure. Emmy and Shanie are cooking.”

Clint stopped; his look of abject horror had Tansy gasping from peals of laughter. “Now come on, it’s not that bad.”

“Hell, Tansy, your girls are real lookers and sweet, but they could burn water.”

Laughing, Tansy dragged him back to the mine where, sure enough, Tansy smelled something burning. Clint hesitated but she shoved him through the entrance still laughing.

“Mommy, dinner smells funny,” Michaela twittered.

“Shanie called it Cajun,” Ricky grumbled. Max sat scowling and poked a finger at the burnt mess.

“Well this looks interesting,” Tansy said. She picked up a plate, its contents not as burnt as the others.

“No Mom, don’t! Lucky ate that then threw up on the plate,” Emmy cried and raced to take it from her.

Now it was Clint’s turn to laugh at Tansy’s horrified expression. Tansy looked at Shanie and Emmy; if they hadn’t looked so miserable Tansy would have been angry. “What was this?”

“Deer stew. But Emmy let it cook too long,” Shanie said angrily.

“I didn’t. You were supposed to be watching it while I watched Mike and the other kids.”

“Never mind,” Tansy said, holding up her hands. “Just take the kids to the stream and you can wash them before dinner tonight.”

“Are you cookin’?” Clint asked happily.

Tansy nodded affirmative, she sent the others with the burnt pot of stew to be scoured with sand. Taking a new pot, Tansy filled it with water she poured from the stomach of an elk. She used one of her precious packets of salt for seasoning. She sliced the giant sponge-like puffball she found in the woods and cooked pieces dropped onto a flat rock on the grill which she coated with fat from the elk. The puffball absorbed the fat nicely, giving it a delicious taste. Tansy used another flat rock placed on the grill and then covered it in fat. On this one she dropped hand flattened dough to make baked flatbread. At Aidan’s suggestion, Tansy found after boiling the inner bark of a pine tree it became a gelatinous mass that looked unpalatable though it could be eaten. Experimenting, she roasted it and found she could grind it for flour.

Clint stayed behind to keep an eye on Tansy, he knew she became engrossed when cooking and didn’t always pay attention to any dangers. Luckily, no other animal had gotten too near to their mine entrance or tried to enter since the bear, possibly because of their traps and noise makers blowing in the wind. But there was always a need for caution.

“What’s this?” Clint asked and cautiously sniffed at the pot Tansy set aside earlier in the day. He approached her with a large quarter of elk meat from a kill a week previously.

If the meat was well wrapped and secured, they could sink it into the lake and use the cold water as a deep refrigerator, careful to keep it well marked and weighted. When the storms blew in the waves of even the smallest lakes in their vicinity were an awesome sight to behold, they would hate to have their hard work dragged away by a tornado or undertow.

Tansy tossed Clint a fast glance, not wanting the bread or mushrooms to burn. “I cooked down some of the dried raspberries and strawberries we had, if it works I’ll try blueberries and blackberries or the thimble berries we found. I’m adding it to crab apples I boiled down hoping I can make some jelly.”

“I thought you couldn’t make freezer jam.”

“I wish we had a freezer. Some nights I think I could sleep in one,” Tansy said. “The book I have said crab apples are high in pectin. That got me thinking when I saw them. I was hoping we could try the jelly tonight with the flatbread.”

Clint returned to the pot of fruit and stuck a finger into it. He lifted his finger to his mouth and took a cautious taste, he would’ve preferred it sweeter, but felt when put on the flatbread it might not be half bad. Inner bark was mildly sweet. Clint watched Tansy roast ground nuts.

“My granny always told me crab apples would give me the runs,” Clint mused.

“They could if you ate too much. Look on the bright side. If nothing else, at least we’ll all stay regular,” Tansy said cheekily.

“Your book got anythin’ ’bout Afros in it?”

“Afros? You want to give your hair a perm?”

“No. I mean stuff that makes a woman feel...you know, all warm and cuddly with a man.”

“Aphrodisiacs.”

“That’s it,” Clint said, snapping his fingers.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You’ll just have to rely on your good looks and charm.”

Clint shrugged, a bit disappointed. The others returned and sat down to dinner. Max offered Tansy one of his rare smiles while stuffing the flatbread with jelly into his mouth. Tansy could tell he was gaining weight. His once gaunt little face had begun to fill out and if she didn’t know better, she would swear he’d gained in height as well; he no longer appeared as tiny as Michaela. His lack of teeth didn’t slow him down. The only problem they’d ever encountered at mealtime was when Clint stopped Max from shoveling food into his mouth as though he would never eat again. Max had already choked once, but thanks to Clint’s diligent scrutiny at watching the children during mealtime, a tragedy was prevented. After that, all it took was a stern warning glance from Clint to let the boy know to slow down.

One of the most precious things Tansy had seen was when Clint hunkered down to eye level with Max, while he clumsily explained with signs and actions he would starve first before he would let Max go without. Max seemed to size him up with caution, then handed Clint a pocketful of worms. Max then bound away, leaving Clint to hold the wriggling dirt encrusted mass, while Cord laughed that he’d made a friend.

Worms were the only thing the children had been surviving on, worms and bugs were easy to acquire under small rocks and rotted logs, enabling them to scramble back to the safety of the cellar from fear of the unpredictable storms or deadly animals. Ethan took this as a great step toward reestablishing trust for Max. He had clapped Clint on the back and gave him a thumbs-up. Having an epiphany of his own, Clint took the kids fishing and using Max’s worms they caught themselves a wonderful lunch.

“Mom this is good,” Shanie said.

“Maybe it’s time your mother taught us all how to cook,” Ethan said.

Although the brunt of cooking fell to Tansy, she wasn’t displeased. Tansy found she never did initially get over the killing and the gutting of animals. She didn’t feel she was a hypocrite; she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt she would kill again if she had to for the sake of her children and the others. She just preferred to cook the food and work the skins. The others shared their kills, not just the food but the hides as well.

The others let Tansy know how grateful they were of her cooking expertise and showered her with gifts. Tansy had been able to make Michaela and Ricky warm winter coats already with what the others brought home.

Tansy had Aidan teach her how to cure a hide and she was good at it. She found all she needed was to ask the others, and they were more than happy to pitch in to help her, especially when the garment was intended for them. They would all be in need of warm winter clothing soon enough. But she realized Ethan was right, they needed to share all of their knowledge. If something happened to Tansy, she needed to know the others could prepare what food they needed as well as identify the plants useful to their survival.

“I can’t cook,” Clint stated.

“Neither can Shanie or Emmy,” Cord said with a hearty laugh.

Emmy threw a piece of meat at him; Shanie just stuck out her tongue. “A woman’s tongue has better uses,” Cord said lewdly. This time, Tansy threw meat at him.

“Alright, alright,” Cord laughed, he tossed the meat to Lucky who caught it eagerly in mid- flight.

The dog had grown very large. All assumed he was part English mastiff and perhaps part Irish wolfhound. His back was higher than Michaela’s head and he had yet to grow into his great paws and long legs. He had filled out to a healthy impressive size due to the fawning and overindulgence of everyone in the mine.

“Well, how about tomorrow we’ll have a community cookout?” Tansy suggested.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Ethan said.

“May I help?” Rose asked quietly.

Rose seldom contributed to their conversations and her question was well received by all.

“I for one would love your help,” Tansy told her. Rose hid a quick smile and accepted the wooden cup of milk Tansy offered.

Michaela yawned and climbed up into Clint’s arms. She begged him for a story; he did his best and used signs and exaggerated movements to include Max in the telling. Soon all the children were held enthralled about a bunny and a bug, the only animal signs Clint knew well.

It was Shanie and Emmy’s night to clean up, and they gathered then washed off plates in a large old white plastic sink near the mine entrance, situated beside one of the wood stoves to make certain the pipe didn’t freeze in winter. It had been rescued from a basement where laundry water had once drained to a sump pump.

Ethan and Aidan had attached a small hose from the pump to the drain under the sink leading outside to a small culvert they dug leading away from the mine. The piping was covered over with straw. Once water was heated, it was poured into the basin; a wooden plug had been fashioned as a stopper. The dishes were washed and dried using clean rags made from an old bed sheet, then placed inside an old four-drawer silver filing cabinet for safe keeping from mice that occasionally roamed within. Lucky proved to be handy in the mice area; he had developed a taste for mice while he and Cord had tracked the others together, and his ability to sniff them out was uncanny.

Tansy ladled out tea with small amounts of brandy. This was her favorite time of day. When they could relax and tell stories while sitting together like a family around the fire. Cord and Aidan secured their makeshift doors to the mine for the night and made sure the goat had water, having used an old plastic toy box with no lid for a trough. Aidan planned to gather large amounts of long grass and hay in the morning and wondered out loud how they could harvest some to collect for the goat. They would need enough for the winter months if they planned on keeping her.

“I guess it’ll just have to be good old-fashioned back-breaking work,” Ethan said.

“Maybe I can make a sickle,” Aidan muttered.

“Maybe we could all make a sickle. Then we could use them on the wheat, rye and barley in the fall as well,” Cord suggested.

“That’s a fine idea,” Tansy said.

“So what will you be doing tomorrow?” Ethan asked Tansy.

“I’m going to try my hand at cream or something.”

“Butter?” Rose asked wistfully.

“Yes, butter,” Tansy said, giving the girl a quick hug.

“Butter and your flatbread,” Clint said with hopeful eyes. “I can hardly wait.” He then tucked Mike into her bed and kissed her on the cheek.

Tansy ran a cool hand over Max’s forehead and signed good night to him; he signed it back then rolled over and was asleep in moments. Ricky protested he was older and should be able to stay up longer. This was met indulgently by his father, but when Ricky found they were only talking about food preparations and harvesting, he soon succumbed to his own weariness. Even though he was only a child, Ricky was still expected to collect wood and do tasks around the mine as were the other children including Michaela. They needed to learn that even at such a young age their help was required and necessary to aid in their survival. Ethan placed Ricky into his bed. The adults soon followed. It had been a long tiring day, but a good one.

* * * *

Tansy was up early the next morning before any of the others. She took a pot down to the goat and milked her. She didn’t know how long it took for cream to rise to the top, or if goats produced cream, but she was going to find out. Worrying about the heat spoiling the milk, Tansy placed the liquid in a large mason jar emptied of its contents long ago. She walked to the stream and finding a small niche placed the jar in the somewhat tepid water, surrounding it with sticks and other vegetation to keep it immobile and covered from the sun.

The water looked too enticing to resist, and Tansy shed her clothing and was splashing and dunking down up to her neck in the cool clear water. Tansy found a few roots by the stream bank that soaped mildly when rubbed together. They didn’t get her as clean as her own soap, but they left her smelling fresh.

Early morning was hot and the water was a welcome treat before the rigorous days activities would engulf her. The few moments she had were precious. Tansy loved the children and adults in her new family but privacy and real alone time were rare. She took complete advantage of the situation. As the hour waned and the sun rose higher, she realized reluctantly it was time to return and begin breakfast.

Turning to exit the stream, Tansy stopped dead in her tracks, the tune she had been humming in the back of her throat died abruptly on fearful lips. The cool clear water lapped at her naked thighs. Staring at her, head lowered and unmoving or blinking, stood a young, large, almost mane-less male lion.