The Unlikely Allies (30 page)

“Would they look for us in this direction?”

“They’ve probably spread out all along the Swedish border and moved inward. Now that they’ve covered that ground, it may have occurred to whoever’s in charge that we took a different path.” His eyes were still on the plane, and finally it became a black dot and disappeared. “I’m not sure we can get through without being spotted, but we have to try.”

They continued traveling as fast as they could. Now that they were traveling without a vehicle, they assumed it was fairly safe to travel during the two hours or so of daylight they still had. The snow gave them a good surface, but
cross-country skiing was one of the most tiring things Mallory had ever tried. They stopped once to have a cold meal and then forged on ahead.

Mallory’s arms and legs ached from all the physical exertion. It took every ounce of her determination to keep going. She trudged along, looking up just enough to keep from running into anything.

“Look,” she said, pointing at the ground.

“What is it?” Derek asked, stopping and looking back to where she was pointing.

“That’s reindeer droppings. A big herd must have gone through here. And see how the snow has been nosed up? They push it back with their noses to get at the tiny plants underneath.”

“Do you think it could belong to your people?”

“Even if it’s not them, they’ll probably know something. We ought to catch up with them soon.”

“There’s not much daylight left, and you’re tired. Come on, let’s try to get another few miles.”

They forged ahead, and a half hour later, Mallory said, “Look. Reindeer!”

“Do you think it’s the Lapps?”

“Sometimes the reindeer aren’t owned. They just wander. If we get close enough, we can see if they belong to Jagg’s family.”

“How could you tell that?”

“They mark all their reindeer when they’re tiny calves with a cut in the ear. I’ve seen Jagg identify one of his at an incredible distance. They have good eyes for things like that.”

“We’d better pull up over there and make camp.” It was getting dark fast.

They stopped near some scrub trees, where they found plenty of firewood. “I think we can risk a fire,” Derek said. They gathered dry sticks and soon had a blaze going. Derek looked up from poking at the fire and said, “Look, those reindeer are curious.”

“Their ears are marked. I don’t know the markings well enough to know whose they are.” An idea came to her, and she said, “You see that female reindeer?”

“I can’t tell the difference. They all have antlers.”

“You can tell by the udder. Derek, why don’t we milk her?”

“Milk her! How would we catch her?”

“Well, she seems pretty tame and she’s used to people. You can tell that.”

“I’ve never milked anything in my life,” he protested.

“Well, I have, but you have to hold her.”

“Hold her! How?”

“By the antlers. Wait, let me get an empty can.”

Derek looked askance at her, then shook his head. “I’m not sure this is a good idea,” he protested. He looked at the reindeer, which was peering at them from only about three meters away.

“Give her something to eat.”

“We don’t have much. Here’s one of the last slices of bread.”

“I’ll trade that any day for a cup of reindeer milk. It’s filled with fat and is very nourishing. They don’t have much milk, but it’s much richer than goat’s milk. Come on. You go first and get her by the antlers. Feed her and then grab her.”

Derek moved forward with some trepidation. He did not like large animals, and although reindeer were small compared to elk or moose, this one was still big enough to have a healthy set of antlers. He advanced slowly and held a piece of the bread out in his hand. The reindeer held its ground and then stretched its neck out and nibbled at the bread. When he put another morsel on his palm, it came closer. “Get ready,” he said. “I don’t know how hard she’ll be to hold.”

“I’m ready.”

Derek fed the last of the bread to the reindeer, then grabbed her antlers. He was slightly off balance, and when she jerked violently, he slipped to the ground and the reindeer panicked and ran right over him.

“Hey!” Derek yelled. “She’s getting away!”

“She’ll come back,” Mallory said, laughing. “I’m surprised you can’t even handle one small female reindeer!”

Derek got to his feet and brushed the snow off the seat of his pants. “All right,” he said grimly. “Let’s try this again.” He found another piece of bread and lured the reindeer back, drawing out the rope he had stowed in his pocket. When the animal took the bread, he let her have it and then grabbed the antlers. This time he was prepared, and he struggled with it for a moment but was finally able to secure the animal to a scrub tree. “Now, you get the lunch,” he said, grinning.

Mallory milked the reindeer efficiently, then said, “All right. Turn her loose.”

Derek did so, and Mallory handed him the can of milk. “It’s good,” she insisted at his uncertain expression.

He sipped the milk, and a look of surprise washed across his face. “Never tasted anything quite like it.”

After sharing the milk, they managed to lure in two more female reindeer so that by the time they had milked both of them, their hunger was somewhat abated. It was already dark, even though it was still early in the afternoon, and they were exhausted from skiing.

“I don’t know about you, but I need a nap,” Derek said. “We’ll just have to trust that nobody’s looking for us out in the middle of nowhere.” They pulled their blankets out, and he said, “You get close to the fire, Mallory.”

She lay down and stared into the fire. He lay down behind her and pulled the blankets up but left his arm over her. She felt odd about this, but safe. The day had been hard, and she grew sleepy. The fire made an orange dot in the blackness, and overhead the constellations were bright.

Derek was tired himself, but not too tired to enjoy holding Mallory close as she lay with her back against him. “It’s strange how little it takes to make a man happy, isn’t it? Here we’re in terrible danger, but we’ve got enough to eat and we’ve got a fire. We’re all right for the moment.”

“I remember someone asked Emerson once what he wanted most. He said, ‘If I can think of it, it isn’t what I want.’ ”

“I know what he means. What we want most can never be put into words. Are you warm enough?”

“Yes, it’s heavenly.”

“Aren’t you ever afraid of me?”

Mallory was very aware of his strong body pressing against her. “No.”

“That’s strange.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me.”

“You’re right about that.”

They lay there silently soaking up the heat from the flickering flames, and finally Mallory said, “Life changes so quickly. Sometimes a person will bend over to pick up something that fell out of his hand, and when he straightens up the whole world has changed.”

“That sounds like something from a poem.”

“Not really.” She smiled in the darkness. “You can put it in one of yours.”

“I’ll put a footnote on it. ‘See the works of Mallory Anne Winslow.’ ”

“I don’t want to be a footnote. You can have it. It’s yours.”

They lay there enjoying the stillness, and finally both of them dropped off to sleep. From out of the darkness came the cry of a wolf, but they were so deep in sleep they never heard it.

****

The nap lasted longer than either of them had intended, so they decided to stay at their cozy little campsite overnight rather than moving on immediately. They felt rather safe out in the northern wilderness and were a little reluctant to get back on their skis.

The next morning they arose long before daylight, ate the final can of beans, and made a small pot of coffee, leaving enough grounds for one more day. The smell of woodsmoke
and coffee laced the thin air and a breeze stirred the snow, sweeping it across the tundra and bringing a musty odor with it.

They set themselves to the journey and skied hard all morning. At noon they were ready to stop for a break when Derek said suddenly, “Look, there are some people and a big herd of reindeer!”

“That must be some of the Lapps. Maybe they’ll know where Jagg is.”

They advanced and found a family on the move. Mallory did not know them, but an old woman who stood beside her son-in-law said, “The Jesus woman.”

Mallory was relieved. “Yes.”

“You are hunting for Jagg?” her son said. “He’s over there. He’s ahead of us no more than half a day.”

“Thank you,” Mallory said. She turned to Derek and said, “We should be able to catch them. They move very slowly.”

“Let’s do it. It’s going to be a cold camp and a hungry one if we don’t.”

****

They caught up with Jagg and his family late in the afternoon, long after the sun had set. They were greeted at the rear of the herd by Mayda, who was holding a baby. “You’re back!” she cried, hugging Mallory.

“Yes, and I brought a friend with me. You remember Derek.”

Mayda looked up at the tall man. “Yes, I remember. He is so big!”

“Yes, and you are very pretty,” Derek said with a smile.

“Who is this beautiful baby?” Mallory asked.

“This is a friend’s baby. I’m just watching her for today so her mother can get some rest. Come,” she told both of them, “you must be tired and hungry.”

They soon came upon the family’s small
kata,
their black
conical tent. Blue smoke was curling invitingly from the wide smoke hole.

“They look like pictures I’ve seen of the American Indian tepees,” Derek said.

“They’re very much like them,” Mallory said. “They can take them down and put them up in almost no time.”

“Won’t we be an imposition?”

“No, you don’t even have to knock. The dogs will announce you. In fact, I don’t think anyone knocks at a door in Lapland.”

Indeed, the dogs did come running out, several of them—two of them black and three of them a strange cream color. They were large dogs but not unfriendly. They swarmed around the pair, and both Derek and Mallory leaned over to pet them.

“The Lapps couldn’t do without their dogs,” Mallory said. “They are great pets, but they’re also used for herding.”

When they reached the tent, Jagg and Orva came with Remu, the mother, and Lorge to greet them. They were all saying,
“Pourist! pourist!”

“That’s Lapp for ‘I greet you.’ Try to say it to them.”

Derek managed to imitate the sound and the family glowed at his effort. At six-two, he towered over all of them.

“Come inside. We eat,” Jagg said.

As Derek stooped to go inside, Mallory whispered, “Be careful not to walk behind the fire, I mean on the side of the fire opposite the door.”

“Why not?”

“Because they keep their food in that place, and they consider that part of a kata sacred.”

It took a moment for his eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. The fire was burning in the center, and he noted that the smoke hole was very large—about five feet in diameter. “Doesn’t it ever rain through that?”

“They cover it up when it does,” Mallory said.

The whole family came into the tent, including the dogs,
and they all settled in around the fire in the center. Derek touched the tent cloth behind him, noting that it was made of a lightweight wool. The floor was covered with layers upon layers of fresh twigs, which made a soft, springy carpet that was a little slippery to walk on. There were several reindeer-skin bags on the floor to serve as chairs and birch-bark cases looking somewhat like suitcases. A few pots and pans completed the equipment. He noted that men and women alike wore long coats trimmed with bands of bright cloth. Orva drew out an old-fashioned coffee mill from one of the birch-bark cases, and Derek watched with interest as she sat on one of the rolled-up reindeer skins and held the mill on her lap.

“I used to watch my grandmother do that,” he remarked.

Remu, the mother, was busy roasting coffee in an iron kettle.

“Coffee will be good, Mother,” Mallory said. She turned to Derek, saying, “They love coffee. They buy the beans and grind them up themselves, and they always serve them.”

“It smells good.”

Finally the coffee was ready, and Remu opened a reindeer-skin bag and pulled out a piece of dried fish. She pulled off a piece of fish skin, which she put into the pot, scales and all.

“Why is she doing that?” Derek asked softly.

“To settle the coffee, I think. She’ll add a little salt to it too.”

When the coffee was ready, Derek held the cup, which was fashioned of northern white birch in the shape of a small dipper and beautifully hand-decorated with primitive designs.

“Sugar,” Jagg said, reaching into another bag and bringing out a conical loaf of sugar almost as large as a loaf of bread. He broke off a piece with a specially devised pair of pinchers and extended it toward Derek.

He put the piece of sugar in his coffee as the others laughed.

“You people never know how to use sugar,” Jagg said. He broke off another piece, put it in his mouth, and then sipped the coffee.

“That’s one way of doing it,” Derek said.

“We have goat’s milk too,” Lorge said. He produced a small jar, and when Derek put a small amount into his cup, he found it gave the coffee a delightful flavor.

“We don’t use reindeer milk so much as we used to,” Jagg said.

“Why’s that?” Derek asked.

“Reindeer give less milk. Besides, it’s more convenient to keep two or three goats that are willing to stay near the kata. Before, when my wife wanted milk, she had to go run a reindeer down and I’d have to hold the animal. The goats just come when she calls.”

The dogs had been keeping a close watch on all the activity, paying special attention to the guest. When Derek leaned over to look at the baby Mayda was holding and stroke the baby’s fine hair, he suddenly found his wrist grasped by one of the dogs. The large dog had strong teeth, but he did not break the skin.

“Jog!” Mayda said quickly and tapped the dog on the nose. “It’s all right.”

Reluctantly the dog released Derek, and Derek rubbed his wrist. “Why did he do that?”

“He didn’t mean to hurt you,” Jagg said. “Only to protect the baby. That’s what his job is. You can see he did not draw blood.”