Part 9 (1/2)
”Was that that dead guy you always talk like?” Chickory asked. ”It sounded peculiar like this talk does.”
Nate smothered a laugh of his own.
”Yes, that was William S.,” Shakespeare answered. ”The finest scribe who ever drew breath.”
Emala said, ”Go on with your story. That other fella I can't hardly ever understand.”
McNair cleared his throat. ”Very well. So there I was, alone in Blackfoot country, with snow and ice everywhere. The Blackfeet had taken my horse and my pack animal and I was stranded afoot. I had to walk out. I'd gone about ten miles in the fifty-below weather when-”
”Wait a minute,” Randa interrupted again. ”Did you say fifty below?”
”Why, Mr. McNair, nothin' is ever that cold,” Emala said.
”I will have you know, madam, that in some parts of the north country it does, indeed, get that cold, and colder. With the wind blowing it can easily reach seventy-five below.”
”Land sakes. The tales you tell,” Emala said.
”Go on,” Samuel urged.
McNair cleared his throat again. ”So anyway, I came to a river that was frozen over and-”
”Which river?” Chickory asked.
”What?”
”Which river was it?”
”I don't know as it even had a name. A lot of rivers back then didn't and many still don't. But if it's a name you need, some of the Indians called it the Sweet Gra.s.s River.”
”Why did they call it that?” Randa asked.
”Because it cut through the prairie, I believe,” Shakespeare said with a trace of exasperation. ”The name isn't important. The important thing is what happened when I tried to cross it. You see, it had frozen over, but when I was about halfway across the ice crackled and started to break just like-”
Emala held up a hand. ”Hold on. You told us it was fifty below. Why, mercy me, that ice had to be five feet thick. How could it crack?”
”It just did.”
”But you don't weigh all that much and back then you were likely skinnier. Am I right?”
”Yes, you are, but you see-”
Emala shook her head. ”No. It don't hardly seem possible. But go on with your story if you want.”
”Thank you.” Shakespeare sighed. ”I was in the middle of the river and the ice started to crack. I tried to run, but the ice was too slippery and I kept falling. Just when I thought I might make it, down I went. I managed to catch hold of the edge of the ice with my arms but I lost my rifle and it sank out of sight and-”
”You must have been powerful cold,” Randa said.
”It's a miracle you didn't freeze solid,” Emala mentioned.
”I might have,” Shakespeare acknowledged. ”But just then a grizzly happened by and spotted me dangling there. I was scared to death, as you can imagine. I was even more scared when he came over and sniffed me and-”
”Wait a minute,” Randa said. ”The ice was thick enough to hold one of those giant bears, but it wouldn't hold you?”
”It came from the sh.o.r.e side where the ice was thicker,” Shakespeare said. ”I was out in the middle. Anyway, it sniffed me a few times and then opened its mouth and I figured I was a goner. I expected it to chomp on my head and that would be the end of me. But-”
”What was its breath like?” Chickory asked.
”What?”
”Its breath. Dog breath always stinks. I bet bear breath stinks even worse. Did it make you gag?”
Shakespeare looked at Nate and Nate pretended to be interested in some clouds.
”I was too scared to pay much attention. All I remember is its teeth and how I thought I was doomed, when lo and behold, that griz went and bit down on the back of my s.h.i.+rt and lifted me right out of the water and dragged me in to sh.o.r.e.”
”Let me guess the end of your story,” Samuel said. ”It dragged you to sh.o.r.e and ate you.”
Emala and the children t.i.ttered and cackled.
”I am done,” Shakespeare declared.
”No. Please,” Emala said. ”We want to hear the rest. What happened next? How did you get away?”
”I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into silence, and discourse grow commendable in none only but parrots,” Shakespeare quoted.
”I don't know what any of that meant,” Emala said.
”Maybe I'll finish my tale later. We have a lot of work to do.”
”Now you've done it,” Emala said to Samuel. ”You've hurt his feelings.”
Everyone got busy. Nate stripped to the waist and went in among the trees with his ax. Today they needed logs to use as ceiling beams. The logs had to be not only big but strong enough to support the weight of a heavy snowfall.
McNair tagged along, muttering to himself.
”Something the matter?”
”I am feeling old and grumpy.”
”Maybe you should have told them about the time you rode an elk. It's more believable.”
”I did, consarn you. On a dare.” Shakespeare rubbed his white beard. ”I was young and stupid in those days.”
”I saw another rattlesnake this morning,” Nate said.
”Imagine that. In the wilderness, no less.”
”Have you come across any since the hunt?”
Shakespeare shook his head. ”I don't make it a point to look. I'm not as fond of them as you are.”