Page 27 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“We don’t get husks to use as stuffing, only corn in cans.”
“I thought I would use long grass. I’m off to view Yeller’s fabrics, to make a suitable cover. If it’s thick enough, it shouldn’t be too prickly.”
Gristle nodded with admiration. “Is that something you could make for me? I sleep on the ground and don’t have time or patience for needlework. I’ll pay you.”
For a moment, Marigold was too startled to find words.
“I think we could work something out. May I come back for these after I’ve seen Yeller?”
“’Course.” Gristle gave her a salute with his ladle, then turned and snarled at a miner. “Are you trying to pickle it for winter? You’re making a meal of my salt.”
She and Nettie exchanged looks as they left, and Nettie whispered, “I’ve never heard him be nice to anyone before. I think he likes you.”
“I feel quite special, then.” There were perks to being the only woman for miles, she supposed.
Yeller greeted her and the children with booming enthusiasm, cheerfully handing off three tins of milk, a small sack of flour, a needle, thread, and four yards of heavy cotton.
Back at the cabin, Marigold washed the sacks and draped them on the logs to dry. Then she found a pickle jar suitable for a sourdough starter.
Once that was tucked on the shelf, she took the children into the hills above the cabin to pick berries. Harley amused himself by eating what he picked while Nettie only ate every second or third berry. When Harley started to look sleepy, Marigold removed her apron and set him to playing with a feather they’d found.
She and Nettie had been exchanging little stories about their travel across the plains, but they quieted while Harley dropped off. It was a pleasant, companionable silence with only the buzz of bees and the odd birdsong. Such a fine summer day made her miss Pearl, but she also felt at ease, thinking this life she had chosen was not so bad. Not bad at all.
When she heard the rustle of a step behind her, she turned, expecting Virgil.
It was the biggest, blackest dog she’d ever seen.
No. It was abear.
Nettie let out a piercing scream, startling the beast into blowing a grunt. It stood up on its hind legs and opened his mouth to show his teeth.
Marigold reacted on instinct, placing herself between the creature and the children.
“Git!” She threw her pail right at the animal, hitting him in the chest and dumbfounding him into dropping onto his four feet. He glared sideways at her, trying to decide if he wanted to charge or snuffle for the dropped berries or run away.
“Nettie, get Harley. Run back to the cabin. Hurry.” Marigold never took her eyes off the animal. She ruffled her skirt and shouted, “You get now! Go on! Git!”
Harley wailed at being snatched up by Nettie. As she tried to carry him while running pell-mell down the hill, she screamed at the top of her lungs, “Papa! Help! Help us, Pa!Help!”
The bear didn’t seem to know which way to look, glancing at the children and lifting his nose for a sniff of the breeze. Dear God, his paws were massive.
Marigold shifted to keep herself between the beast and the children. Her heart was threatening to crash itself right out of her chest.
“Go on! Get!” she shouted, trying to kick up some dirt at him.
With a disgusted huff, the bear lumbered into the trees.
Marigold waited one more second to be sure it was gone before she raced after the children. She was catching up to them when another animal charged at them from her left. She let out her own bloodcurdling scream and snatched the children into her, but it was a man on horseback.
“What is it?” He brandished a rifle.
Nettie looked up with her tear-streaked face and pointed. “Bear!”
The man kicked his horse into a gallop up the hill.
Marigold folded onto the ground, a shaking mass of overwrought nerves. Nettie fell onto her, clinging for comfort while Harley stood beside them letting out confused wails, rubbing his sleepy eyes, not sure why he was frightened and angry, but certain he was both.
…
