Part 7 (2/2)
I was so startled I nearly dropped the oars. ”Gosh, did you see that?” I whispered hoa.r.s.ely.
The otter surfaced and floated on its back, staring at us with palpable curiosity, giving us a good look at the bright eyes, the silky fur, the bristly whiskers. The creature was, in every way, enchanting. Deciding it had had enough of us, it suddenly dove and disappeared, leaving behind nothing more than a trail of small bubbles to prove it had not been a mirage.
”Lutra canadensis,” said Granddaddy. ”It's been years since I saw one in these parts, and I thought they'd all gone. They live on the river mollusks and smaller fish. Mark this sighting in your Notebook, Calpurnia. It is truly a red-letter day.”
I dutifully marked it down, and added (most unscientifically) Happy Otterday to Me!
WELL, ONCE TRAVIS heard about my birthday otter, there was nothing for it but that he had to see it too. He nagged me mercilessly until we set off a couple of days later in the boat, provisioned with ham biscuits and a bottle of lemonade. We trailed the bottle behind us in the water on a length of string to keep it cool.
Rounding a corner, we surprised a great blue heron fis.h.i.+ng in the shallows on its stilt-like legs, stabbing at pa.s.sing minnows with its daggerlike beak. It uttered a sour croak, so at odds with its beautiful plumage, and flapped away, the sinuous neck folded into its chest.
When we reached the gravel bar, I told him Granddaddy's story of the Indian battle, and he looked deeply impressed. He said, ”How come he tells you this stuff but he never talks to any of the rest of us?”
It was true. Granddaddy spoke so seldom to my brothers that I wasn't sure he could tell them apart. But Travis's question made me uneasy. I loved my grandfather with a deep, unquestioning love, and I knew he loved me. I also knew that part of our love for each other rested on our mutual love of Science and Nature. And if one of my brothers, for whatever reason, wanted to wiggle his way into Granddaddy's affections, that would be the logical way to do it. None of them showed any inclination to do this, and in fact they usually avoided him. But what if? Sharing him was more than I could stand. He was mine, mine alone.
”Callie?”
”Huh?”
”Are you okay?” Travis stared at me, his normally open, happy face creased with concern.
”I'm, uh, fine.”
”I asked you why he never talks to us about the Indian Wars and such.”
I pondered the consequences of my answer and sighed. ”He will if you ask him.”
”I dunno. He scares me. Doesn't he scare you?”
”He used to, but not anymore.”
To my relief, Travis immediately lost interest in Granddaddy and moved on to an increasingly more frequent topic of conversation: Lula Gates. He prattled on about her many charms before I couldn't stand it one minute longer and declared it was time to pack up and go home.
”But we haven't seen the otter,” he said.
”If it doesn't want to show itself, we can't make it. Don't expect me to pull an otter out of a hat. I'm not a magician.”
We took turns rowing home and made it back by dusk. Just as we were tying up at the dam, something stirred in the bushes on the far side of the abutments. The creature, whatever it was, inspected us, and we-dismayed-inspected it back: a picture of abject misery, one weeping eye with the lid at half-mast; one ear mostly erect, the other mostly drooping; its flank peppered with lumpy scabs amid the matted reddish-brownish fur; the ribs standing out like a washboard.
Travis whispered, ”Is that the otter? You never said it looked like that. I thought they were supposed to be cute. What happened to it?”
”I'm pretty sure that's not an otter.”
”What is it, do you think?”
”It might be a coyote, or maybe a fox.”
We stared at this mystery animal. I thought it was probably a fox, normally a shy species and of no threat to us, but you almost never caught sight of one in daylight.
”What's wrong with it?” said Travis.
”It's starving, and it looks like it's been in a fight. Whatever it is.”
I looked at Travis out of the corner of my eye and waited for the inevitable, but he had finally met his match-the one animal on earth too awful to take home. Even so, I said, ”Don't go near it. It's probably rabid.”
”But it's not foaming at the mouth.”
I displayed my superior knowledge by saying, ”That doesn't mean anything. In the early stages, they don't foam.”
Upon hearing this, the creature melted away into the underbrush. My brother and I walked home in silence, each absorbed in our own thoughts.
CHAPTER 10.
FAMILY REUNION.
If a person asked my advice, before undertaking a long voyage, my answer would depend upon his possessing a decided taste for some branch of knowledge, which could by this means be advanced.... Even in the time of Cook, a man who left his fireside for such expeditions underwent severe privations.
FATHER AND HARRY had been gone for one whole month when Mother, looking more chipper than usual, announced at dinner, ”I have some wonderful news. If all goes well, Father and Harry will be home on Thursday evening.”
We erupted in happy chatter, and Sam Houston, the oldest boy present, led us in three cheers. Beaming, Mother allowed this unusual boisterousness at the table. She said, ”I want everyone bathed and pressed and looking their best. Lamar and Sully, you see to the boiler. You'll need to bring in extra wood. Callie, Aggie will be staying with us for a while until Uncle Gus rebuilds the family home.”
”She will?” This was interesting news. ”For how long?”
”Several months, I expect.”
”And where will she be staying?”
”In your room, of course. She will have your bed, and we will make you up a pallet on the floor.”
”But-”
”I'm certain that no daughter of mine would refuse hospitality to her cousin in the hour of need.” Mother gave me the gimlet eye. ”Especially a cousin who has suffered such terrible losses, and now more than anything needs peace and quiet and loving care. I simply can't imagine that any daughter of mine would do that. Can you?”
I thought the question somewhat unfair but in truth I had no good answer. I stared at my plate and said in a small voice, ”No, Mother.”
”Good. I thought not.” She sighed and then got that look on her face that often signaled the onset of one of her headaches. ”Aggie needs our understanding and compa.s.sion. You will be good to her, won't you?”
In an even smaller voice, ”Yes, Mother.”
”Good. I thought so.”
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