Near the Bone(7)

The third child had come too early, far too early, so that when he slipped from her body there seemed hardly anything to him at all. She’d held him in her arms even though he never cried, his body cold before she even had a chance to name him. That was the only time Mattie had ever seen William weep.

“I’m sorry,” Mattie said, for she knew the fault was with her, with her defective body, and also because if she apologized it always put him in a better mood.

Though even if our son had lived he’d hardly be old enough to go hunting. He’d still be small enough to hold on to my apron strings, and then where would you be, William? You wouldn’t have an extra pair of eyes at all, because I would be home with the child.

Mattie stood and quickly cleared the table, because that was a very rebellious thought and William could always see those in her eyes, could sense when the spirit he’d tried to grind out of her reasserted itself.

“When you’re done with the breakfast dishes put on your trousers,” he said. “Your skirts aren’t good for running, and anyway they make so much noise.”

Mattie only had one pair of trousers, which she wore very rarely because William said they were not decent. Despite this, he had conceded the occasional necessity of them, particularly when he needed her help with some strenuous chore.

It was much easier for Mattie to move without the weight of a skirt and two petticoats. Her legs felt lighter, freer when she wore her trousers. She felt light enough to fly.

(or run away)

Mattie hunched over the water basin and scrubbed the dishes, not looking at William. He’d definitely see “run away” on her face, even if it was only a passing thought. Even if she didn’t really mean it.

(although you sort of meant it you really did)

She had to quash these rebellious thoughts. They weren’t becoming of a good wife, and William reminded her constantly that her purpose was to be a good wife to him.

A short time later they were back in the woods. They moved up the mountain this time instead of down. William said there was a small meadow at a slightly higher elevation than their cabin, and at the edge of the meadow was a cliff face with several caves.

“I’ve seen big grizzlies go in and out of there sometimes,” he said. “And a bear as big as this one we’re after—there’s not a chance it’s going to dig out a den. It’s going to look for something ready-made. But you keep your eyes open just the same, Mattie girl. We might find he’s gone to ground somewhere else.”

Mattie didn’t understand why William was fixated on the creature, not really. He said it was because of their meat stores but that didn’t seem to be the actual reason. She didn’t think the vague way he wanted to go about finding it was very useful, either. Why didn’t they go back to the place where they found the tracks yesterday and start from there? It was so unlike William, who was normally very ordered and logical.

He’s afraid of something, she thought as she trudged along behind him. He’s afraid of something, but it isn’t this creature getting inside the storehouse or eating all the game.

Mattie stared at the back of his neck, trying to think on what it might be. She felt there was a clue in something he’d said the day before, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.

She was supposed to be his extra pair of eyes, in any case, and if she spent all her time looking at William’s back and thinking about yesterday then she wasn’t doing what he’d told her to do.

The woods were more pleasant today, less close, less silent and watchful. The sun emerged from the cloud cover and made the snow glitter a fierce and brilliant white. Birds darted between the trees, chittering and chattering their many thoughts to one another. Squirrels and chipmunks watched them pass from branches or from beneath bits of brush, tolerant of the bumbling humans in their midst.

Mattie didn’t think the creature (she didn’t know when she’d stopped thinking of it as a bear, but she was somehow sure that it wasn’t quite a bear, whatever William said) was anywhere nearby. The forest felt different than it had the day before. Now that she thought about it, the woods had felt that way from the moment she’d gone out to check the traps. It hadn’t been because of the fox, either. She’d been uneasy from the start, though she hadn’t recognized the feeling.

William walked without speaking, pausing only to inspect markings that meant nothing to Mattie—broken bits of twig, a disrupted bit of snow, a piece of cracked bark. None of these things appeared to be the work of the creature. The signs they’d seen the day before had been much more obvious.

Mattie sensed William’s increasing frustration and wished he hadn’t insisted that she accompany him. It would be her fault, somehow, if he didn’t find any sign of the animal.

After an hour or so they reached the meadow. It was about four times the size of the clearing in which they lived. Mattie imagined that in the summer it would be filled with the colorful bobbing heads of mountain flowers—aspen daisies and harebells and blanket flowers and golden banners. William had taught her the names of the flowers, and how to find edible herbs and berries.

She had a sudden memory of William leaning down to point out some columbine. She’d been very small when he did that. In her mind’s eye she could see her hand reaching out to stroke the petals, a little girl’s hand.

The field was brown now, all the flower petals blown away or dried up. Above the meadow was a sloped rock face, several openings dotting the cliff.