Текст книги "Secrets of the Highlander"
Автор книги: Джанет Чапмен
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Greylen stepped off the elevator and walked toward him. “Let me knock on his door,” Grey said. “He should recognize me and not get suspicious.”
Jack nodded. It was a good plan. They walked to room 316 together; then Jack hung back and waited. Grey knocked, then knocked again, but nobody answered.
“Mr. Trump, are you in there?” Grey asked. “We’re having a water problem with the room below ye, and we need to check your bathroom, sir.”
Still nobody answered.
Grey reached in his pocket and pulled out his own master key card. But just as soon as he stuck it in the slot, Jack nudged him aside and opened the door while staying out of the direct line of fire. The door swung open into what appeared to be an empty room.
With his gun leading the way, Jack slowly entered the two-room suite, checking the closets and bathroom and both rooms thoroughly. He lowered his gun with a sigh and Grey finally entered the room.
“He’s gone,” Grey said, stating the obvious. “He packed up and left without checking out.”
“Which probably means he’s not coming back,” Jack said, tucking his gun in his belt as he continued exploring the room. He picked up the trash can, dumped the papers in it onto the desk, and rummaged through them. “Don’t let housekeeping clean in here until I have Simon Pratt check for fingerprints,” Jack said, shoving all the papers back in the trash can. “With luck, our guy might be in someone’s database. There’s a chance he’s never coming back, but there’s also a good chance that he suspects his car was seen and has changed vehicles and checked into another hotel either here in Pine Creek or in Greenville.”
“I would guess the last, since he can’t know we’ve sent off the samples,” Grey said. “Mark Collins emailed Megan yesterday and asked how her survey was coming along.”
“Did she answer him?”
“Aye, she sent him an email saying she thought there was a mountain lion in the area to be developed.”
“Perfect,” Jack said. “Mentioning the cat makes it appear that she doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“Megan just realized this morning that her laptop is missing. She had me go over to her house with her to get it, but she couldn’t find it.”
Jack dismissed the news with a shrug. “The samples are what Collins want.”
Grey moved directly in front of Jack. “I’m worried that Megan herself might be a target now. She told me this morning that she had taken extensive notes on what she’d observed around the dead animals. That’s why she went after the laptop this morning, when she remembered her notes and wanted to read them.”
“Shit,” Jack hissed. “If Collins gets hold of her computer, he might decide Megan is just as much of a threat as those samples are.” He glared at Grey. “She has to stay at Gù Brath until…dammit, it could take weeks to get Collins off our backs.”
“Or an instant, for the right man,” Grey said very softly.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know where in hell you people get your sense of justice, but taking the law into your own hands is not acceptable.”
“Collins is now threatening my daughter’s life, Stone. In my day, we made sure such threats couldn’t come back to haunt us.” Grey walked to the hall door. “I will give you the same amount of time to deal with Collins that you gave Kenzie to deal with his problem. One week, Stone—and then I will take matters into my own hands.” His eyes hardened even more. “And if you fail, you will leave Pine Creek forever—alone.”
Jack stared at the empty doorway. O-kay. It didn’t get any more direct than that, did it?
Jack pulled out his cell phone, called Simon, and told him to come to the resort to take fingerprints. He then slipped the phone back in his pocket with a sigh. It was time to start thinking like his ancestors.
Taking advantage of his foul mood, Jack went to the MacKeage stables to wait for Kenzie. He knew the Sasquatch was using a horse to travel to and from the cabin where he lived with the priest, because Jack’s badge had gotten the doorman to talk about a lot of things, including Kenzie’s frequent visits to Gù Brath since Megan had moved back home.
Jack had also learned from the affable doorman that Miss Camry MacKeage was a huge flirt, but that she was all talk and no action. Presumably he told Jack this so Jack wouldn’t get his hopes up, seeing how he was new in town and all. Not that it mattered, anyway, as the doorman had heard that Camry was flying to France in a few days because of what some scientist there had discovered about ion propulsion—which, the doorman had explained, was Camry’s area of expertise.
So Jack sat on a bale of hay and let some horse named Snowball nuzzle his shoulder. He was surprised to realize he was going to miss Camry. She had grown on him over the last couple of weeks, and he was sorry she was leaving.
The large stable door suddenly slid open and Kenzie Gregor walked in, stopping short when he spotted Jack.
“How’s your favor going with Megan?” Jack asked.
Kenzie walked to a stall and led one of the huge draft horses into the aisle. “It’s going quite well, thank ye.”
“And your pet? How’s that little problem coming along?”
Kenzie gave Jack a warning glance and went back to bridling his horse. “I told ye I’d take care of it, and I will.”
“No, actually, you never did tell me you would.”
Kenzie turned to face him. “The beast won’t be breaking into any more shops. He’s sick, and I fear he may be dying.”
“Well, that takes care of that problem,” Jack said, standing up to leave.
“Ye don’t understand, Stone. I intend to do everything in my power to save him.”
“Or your brother’s power?”
Kenzie looked momentarily startled, then narrowed his eyes. “What has my brother got to do with this?”
Jack shrugged and stepped outside, Kenzie following. “You save that creature’s life, Gregor, you better find a way to send it back where it came from.”
“I will deal with it,” he said, leading his horse toward the path heading up the mountain. He stopped, swung up onto its bare back in one easy motion, and gave Jack a speculative look. “Camry and Megan were talking at lunch today, and Camry mentioned a word I haven’t heard before. Would ye happen to know what shaman means?”
“What it means, Gregor, is that you Celts aren’t the only magic act in town,” Jack said, walking away.
Jack’s foul mood continued through the rest of the day and into the evening. It also was likely responsible for the heart-pounding nightmare he had that night, in which he repeatedly found himself battling one monster after another as he frantically tried to get to Megan, who was struggling in the icy water of a tundra lake.
Each time he was just about to reach her, another adversary got in his way. Kenzie Gregor tried to cut him in half with a large bloody sword, Jack barely deflecting each blow with his tiny hatchet. Then a faceless Mark Collins stood with his small army of students, forcing Jack to hack his way through them, their cries of betrayal caught up in Megan’s scream for help. The dragon flew at him next, shooting fire from its nostrils as its tail lashed at Jack, trying to knock the hatchet from his hand.
And just when he thought he’d defeated any and all foes and could finally save Megan, Jack found Greylen MacKeage blocking his path. Looking a good forty years younger, wearing a gray and red, dark green, and lavender plaid and holding an ancient and bloodied sword in his hand, the fierce Highlander was the final gauntlet he had to run in order to reach the woman he loved.
The hatchet dangling in his hand at his side and blood seeping from his wounds, Jack’s entire body trembled with exhaustion and apparent defeat. He could only watch helplessly as men from three different clans pulled Megan from the icy water and then flew off, carrying her to an impenetrable fortress on a distant mountain.
“Ye failed, Stone,” Greylen said, moving to block his way when Jack tried to follow. “You’ve disgraced your ancestors by failing to protect what’s yours. Ye don’t deserve a family of your own, especially my daughter and grandson. We’ll raise the boy to be a powerful warrior.”
“I don’t want him to be a warrior!” Jack cried out. “And neither does his mother.”
“Turn around, Stone. See what your way has gained you.”
Jack slowly turned and saw Kenzie, the dragon, and Collins and his students regrouping, preparing themselves to come at him again.
“You possess the skills of a warrior, Stone,” Greylen said, drawing his attention again. “But ye refuse to use them.”
“I prefer peaceful solutions to problems.”
“And so you will continue to fight the same fights, refusing to see that sometimes a man must act decisively, even when it goes against his nature.”
“I fought them,” Jack said, nodding behind him without taking his eyes off Megan’s father.
“Aye, but your blows were ineffectual, and instead of solving anything, ye only postponed the inevitable. Did ye not hope to avoid taking action yourself by giving Kenzie a week to deal with the dragon? And so your problems come at you again, and my daughter and her child pay the price of your hesitation.”
Jack dropped his chin to his chest. “There has to be a way I can save her,” he said, more to himself than to Grey.
“There is, Coyote.”
“What is it, then?” Jack asked, looking up, only to find his grand-père standing beside Greylen, the two men appearing to be different sides of the same coin.
“You must embrace your dark side,” his grand-père said. “And acknowledge the shadow your heart creates when you stand in the light. One does not exist without the other, Coyote—which means you cannot exist unless you accept both.”
“If I acknowledge the shadows, will I get Megan and my son back?” he asked, looking up to find himself in his pitch-black bedroom, his sheets soaked with sweat and his heart pounding in dread.
Jack untangled himself from the bedding, showered, dressed, and went to work, his mood from yesterday compounded tenfold by the nightmare he couldn’t seem to shake—which vividly echoed the fact that he hadn’t seen Megan since Matt Gregor had whisked her off to Gù Brath in his plane.
Jack’s day continued its downward spiral when he walked into the police station and found John Bracket in their makeshift holding cell. The man had a cut on his forehead and blood on his shirt, and was hollering at Ethel to get him a lawyer.
And Jack realized he was looking at yet another monster he hadn’t fully dealt with: just like a battered wife, he had hoped this particular problem would solve itself. But here it was, haunting him again.
“Did Mrs. Bracket finally press charges?” Jack asked Ethel.
“No, we did. John Bracket got in an accident on the way home from some bar in Greenville, and sent our sand truck off the road. It plunged into Pine Creek.”
“How’s the driver of the sand truck?”
“He’s at the hospital with Simon. They both needed stitches.”
“Both? What happened to Simon?”
“Bracket split open Simon’s cheekbone when the boy tried to handcuff him to bring him in.”
Jack bit back a curse. “If I’d pressed charges last week when Bracket punched me, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“It would have eventually,” Ethel said. “He’d have gotten out on bail, gotten drunk again, and something just as ugly would have happened.” She shrugged. “It’s always the same vicious cycle.”
“This particular cycle stops today. We’re drawing up a list of charges that will keep him locked up for a couple of years, and pray that’s long enough for him to find some religion.”
“I’ve already done the paperwork, and a sheriff’s deputy is on the way to transport John to the county jail,” Ethel said, just as the phone rang. “I put your messages on your desk,” she finished, picking up the phone.
Jack walked into his office, sat down at his desk, and stared at the opposite wall. It wasn’t just time to think like his ancestors; it was time he had a heart-to-heart talk with them.
Jack’s mood did an immediate one-eighty when he walked into Pine Creek PowerSports that afternoon and found Tom Cleary hunched over the partly dismantled engine of his sled. Tom actually looked like a mechanic: he was wearing clean coveralls, his hair was shorter—though it looked like his mother had cut it—and he had on safety glasses and steel-toed boots.
Paul Dempsey was hovering over the boy as if he expected Tom to pick up a sledgehammer and start thumping away.
“Will it be ready by tomorrow morning?” Jack asked, bending down to peer into the massive mess of metal.
“If I work on it all evening,” Tom said without bothering to look up. He did nod toward Paul. “And if Mr. Dempsey quits telling me what to do next.”
Paul harrumphed and walked to the door leading into his showroom.
Jack gave Tom a pat on the back. “There’s a fifty dollar tip for you if you get it done tonight. I need my sled tomorrow morning for a run up the lake.”
“It’ll be ready for you,” Tom said, just as he pulled a large piece of metal off the top, exposing the guts of the engine. “You just burned up a piston, is all,” Tom said, shining a light down one of the four large holes. “But you didn’t score the cylinder, so it’ll be an easy fix.”
“Thanks, Tom.”
“Mr. Stone? Thank you for…for everything.”
“You want to thank me, give half your paycheck to your mother and encourage your brothers to behave, okay? And call me Jack. You’re a workingman now; you’ve earned the right.”
“I already told Mom she could have most of my paycheck,” Tom said. “And I promise the pranks will stop.”
Jack gave him a nod and walked into the showroom just as Paul was flipping the Open sign in the door to Closed.
“You’re a good man, Dempsey,” Jack told him, climbing on one of the large red ATVs. “And smart, too, for hiring Tom. He’s going to make you lots of money.”
Paul puffed up a bit. “I gotta admit, I was judging the book by the cover. Everyone in town has watched those Cleary boys grow up rough-and-tumble, and I guess we’re all guilty of visiting the sins of their father on them.”
Jack nodded. “Giving him this chance to prove himself…well, you’re a good man.”
Paul’s face reddened, and he fiddled with the price tag on the ATV Jack was sitting on, then suddenly got a sparkle in his eyes. “Say, did you know a lot of the snowmobile trails around here double as ATV trails in the summer? What are you planning to do for fun when the snow melts?”
“I’m planning to buy myself a boat and a large cooler for food and beer, and I’m going to fish this lake dry.”
“Oh, man,” Paul said, rushing over to a rack of brochures, pulling one out, then rushing back. “Have I got the perfect boat for you!”
Chapter Twenty-one
“Y ou know you’re certifiably crazy, don’t you?” Camry said as she drove their “borrowed” trail groomer up the ski lift path of TarStone Mountain in the pitch dark. “Which means I must be crazy, too,” she muttered, giving Megan a sidelong glance before turning left into a narrow cutting in the woods. “I mean, it’s one thing for a panther to actually be a man, or for Robbie’s dead mother to turn into a snowy owl, because that makes convoluted sense for the magic we grew up with. But a dragon, Meg? Hold on!” she yelped when the right track of the snowcat rolled up onto a fallen log.
Megan braced herself so she wouldn’t slide into Camry. “Why not a dragon?” she asked as soon as they leveled out. “If they don’t exist, where did the idea for them come from? Somebody had to have seen something that looked like a giant lizard with wings. Who could make up a creature like that?”
“The same person who made up all the mythological beasts,” Camry countered. “Someone with a really warped imagination. Either that, or they smoked a lot of pot back then.” She looked over at Megan. “Dragons don’t exist, sis. You must have seen something else.”
“Jack saw it, too. And I just know Kenzie is hiding it in one of the caves on Bear Mountain.”
“You figured that out just because Kenzie smells funny?”
“That, and because when I alluded to seeing the creature, he got all guarded and suddenly had to leave.”
“Exactly what are you two doing downstairs in the lab for several hours each day?” Camry asked, bobbing her eyebrows. “And how come you lock the door?”
“We’re…doing a project together.” Megan was reluctant to lie to her sister, but she was even more loath to break her promise to Kenzie. “He’s working on a belated wedding gift for Matt and Winter, and I’m helping him,” she explained, which wasn’t all that far from the truth. “And he wants it to be a surprise.”
Camry snorted. “I think he’s just using that as an excuse to spend time with you.”
“He says I’m like a sister to him,” she countered. “And besides, he knows Jack is back in my life.”
“Is Jack back in your life?” Camry asked softly. “What went on between you two the night you fell in the lake?”
“Jack saved my life.”
“And you were so beholden that you slept with him, didn’t you?”
In an attempt to cover up what she knew was a blistering blush, Megan grabbed the handle on the dash. “Look out!” she yelped, bracing herself for a bump that didn’t come. “Sorry,” she muttered, sitting back and smoothing down her hair. “I thought I saw another log in the headlights. Turn here.”
“That road won’t take us to Bear Mountain. The one we want is farther up.”
“No, this is it. Turn left.”
“But this one goes to Robbie’s house.”
“Then stop,” Megan said, having to grab the dash handle again when Camry brought the snowcat to a sudden halt. Megan looked over at her sister, just able to make out her expression in the soft glow of the dash lights. “When was the last time you were up here?” she asked.
“Three or four years ago,” Camry admitted.
“I swear this is the trail we took with the horses when Winter and I took Matt to see Bear Mountain this past fall. But the snow makes everything look different. Still, I say we turn here.”
“And if it does come out at Robbie’s, and he catches us?”
“He’s staying at my house tonight, remember?”
Camry gave the snowcat the gas and turned left. She suddenly laughed. “This is fun, Meg, even if it is a wild goose chase. I told you sneaking out from under Mom’s and Dad’s noses would be just like old times.”
“We shouldn’t have lied to them.”
Camry snorted. “Like they’d have let you go traipsing off in the woods at night after what happened up the lake. Don’t worry, Chelsea will cover for us. And it makes perfect sense that we’d spend the night with her in Bangor. You do need a new laptop.”
“I still feel guilty for sneaking out and then stealing the snowcat.”
Camry stopped the snowcat again and looked at Megan. “So do you want me to turn back or not?”
“No! I am finding that dragon. I just wish everyone would quit trying to keep the damn thing a secret. Dad, Robbie, and Kenzie know that I understand the magic, so what are they protecting me from?”
“Maybe from Jack?” Cam speculated. “They still consider him an outsider, Meg. Maybe Dad and Robbie are afraid you’ll slip up and inadvertently tell him. They haven’t explained our family secret to Jack yet. Surely you remember what it was like for Heather, Elizabeth, and the other girls when they wanted to get married. Hell, Walter left Elizabeth standing at the altar. It took Robbie three days to find him, and another two days to convince him we aren’t all insane.”
Megan looked down at her lap. “How am I going to explain the magic to Jack?”
“You’re not. Daddy and Robbie are. That’s the rule.”
She looked up at her sister. “But what if he thinks we’re all crazy and he runs like Walter did? Jack can hide where even Robbie won’t be able to find him. He’s hidden practically his whole life and is obviously very good at it.”
“Robbie has Matt and Winter to help him now. Jack can’t hide from them.” Camry leaned forward to look Megan in the eyes. “You’ve fallen back in love with him, haven’t you?”
Megan simply nodded.
Camry pulled her into a hug. “I’m so happy for both of you.” She chuckled and patted Megan’s belly. “I mean for the three of you.” She straightened with a groan and gave the snowcat the gas again. “So this definitely means I can’t date. Your marrying Jack makes the curse six for six.”
“Poor Cam,” Megan said with teasing sympathy. “Don’t worry. You’ll run into the right guy one of these days, and the curse will be the last thing on your mind. It happened to me, and I promise it will happen to you, too.”
“But I don’t want it to happen to me. I like being single. If I feel like going to bed at six in the evening, I can. And if I want to stay at work until three in the morning, I can do that too, because I don’t have someone calling me every hour asking me when I’m coming home.”
“No, you only have Dad giving you a hard time when you visit,” Megan said with a laugh. “Here. Turn here. Dammit, we’re in town!”
Camry stopped the snowcat just as they crested the snowbank of a plowed road. She looked up and down the street, then over at Megan. “It’s only a quarter mile to the main road, and then a short distance to the lake. And we know Frog Cove is frozen solid; they’ve been driving trucks on it for the last month. I say we go for it. It’ll shorten our run by at least ten miles if we just head up the cove and cut into the woods where Bear Brook comes out.”
Megan involuntarily shivered. “We don’t know how thick the ice is around Bear Brook.”
“Then we’ll go all the way up to Talking Tom’s cottage on the point and then backtrack. There’s a trail leading from there up to the top of Bear Mountain, isn’t there?”
“Yes. But what if someone sees us going through town?”
“There are more snowmobiles than cars around here this time of year, and they’ll think our snowcat is one of the club trail groomers.” She started to give the machine gas, then hesitated. “Where’s Jack tonight? Does he make patrols around town?”
“I have no idea what Jack is doing. Apparently he’s been so busy with police work, he can’t even find the time to come see me.”
“There has been a bit of a crime wave lately, sis. Have you seen his police cruiser?” Camry asked with a laugh, easing the snowcat over the snowbank and onto the street. She drove down the residential lane, made a quick stop to check for traffic, then darted across Main Street and into the town park. “It doesn’t matter if anyone does see us,” she said as they cruised onto the lake. “They can’t tell who’s inside here, and if they call the resort, Thomas will cover for us.”
“You’re going to get that poor man fired,” Megan said, looking around to see if anyone had noticed them. But it was eleven o’clock on a Tuesday night, and the town seemed deserted.
“So what’s the plan if we do find ourselves nose to nose with a dragon?” Camry asked. “Did you bring some doughnuts?”
Jack stood in the middle of the Frog Point camp road and aimed his flashlight down at the lifeless body of Peter Trump, specifically at the half-inch metal spike sticking out of his back. “So he simply tripped and fell on that survey stake,” Jack said, repeating what Robbie MacBain had just told him.
“He made the mistake of glancing over his shoulder to look for me,” Robbie said, “and he tripped, tried to catch himself, and landed exactly like you see him.”
Jack lifted his gaze. “He just…fell.”
Robbie sighed, seemingly in an attempt to hold onto his patience. “I wanted him alive as much as you did, Stone. He’s our best chance to nail Collins.”
“He was. So why didn’t you simply take him down at the house?”
“Because of Megan. I didn’t want her coming home to a mess, if there was a struggle. Nor does she need that kind of negative energy in her new home, especially with the baby on the way. So I let him see me, knowing he’d run, and I intended to bring him down out here in the road.”
“I would say your plan worked.” Jack moved the flashlight beam on the ground around the body, stopping when he spotted the gun. “How come he didn’t shoot you?” he asked, walking closer to stare down at it.
“I never gave him a target. He did fire his weapon as he ran out of the house. You should find a bullet lodged in the siding by the lakeside door.”
“Where’s your gun? I’ll need to take it for evidence.”
“I don’t have one.”
Jack lifted his gaze to Robbie. “I see. You expected Trump to come search Megan’s house again, and you were waiting for him unarmed?”
Robbie lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t say I was unarmed, I said I don’t have a gun.”
Jack pulled out his cell phone with a sigh. O-kay, then. “I’m calling the state police, as they like to be in on this dead body stuff. Why don’t you go to my house and make yourself comfortable, as I imagine we’re both going to be here awhile. The key’s under the mat.”
“We need to find out if he sent Megan’s laptop to Collins.”
“I’ll check his pockets for a hotel key or receipt. If he hasn’t sent it yet, it’ll be in his room or his car. If he has, we’ll deal with that problem after we clean up this one.”
Robbie still hesitated. “I wanted him alive, Stone.”
“So did I,” Jack said, speed-dialing the state police.
With a sum total of three hours of sleep in the last twenty-four, Jack finished tying his backpack down on the rear rack of his idling sled, climbed on, and headed up the lake just as the sun was breaking over Bear Mountain. He didn’t have a clue where he was going; he simply trusted that he would recognize his destination when he got there. He wasn’t wearing a helmet because he hadn’t bothered to buy a new one, and the crisp February air would go a long way toward keeping him awake.
He still hadn’t seen Megan, and he was beginning to think the gods were waiting for him to get his act together before they let him see her again. But then, she hadn’t exactly been beating down his door, had she?
Oh, yeah, that’s right. She was otherwise occupied, doing a mysterious favor for Kenzie Gregor—like helping him give his slimy pet a bath or something.
Jack reined in his anger, redirecting his thoughts to more pleasant things, like the sweet sound of his purring engine. He checked his speedometer and smiled when he saw he was cruising at an effortless sixty miles per hour. Young Tom Cleary was fifty bucks richer this morning, and Jack was eight hundred bucks poorer but immensely pleased.
Back on the lake on a snowmobile, Jack found his thoughts once again drifted to Megan, so he mentally went over the list of equipment he’d brought. It had been difficult packing for an unknown destination, but he felt prepared for just about anything. He’d taken climbing gear, his gut telling him he was headed for high ground, along with several wool blankets and a collapsible bucket. His equipment also included snowshoes, his high-powered rifle, plenty of power bars, the knife his father had given him for his eighth birthday, and his hatchet.
Twenty minutes later, Jack let off the gas and hit the brake, bringing his sled to an abrupt stop when he noticed the solitary mountain rising up from the lake five or six miles ahead. It was almost a perfect dome, and he estimated it to be more than a thousand feet tall. He could see several sheer cliffs peeking through the dense evergreens covering it, and he let out a pained groan. Even though he was prepared, he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to actually climb to his destination—not on three hours of sleep.
He checked the position of the sun, guessed he’d been traveling for a little over half an hour, and realized the mountain was sitting directly at the north end of the forty-mile-long lake.
O-kay, he decided, giving his sled the gas and quickly bringing it up to speed; if his ancestors wanted him to climb, he would climb.
Which is exactly what Jack found himself doing half an hour later, though he didn’t have to use a rope and harness. He’d found a faint but definitely man-made path leading up the mountain, and realized he was not the first Native American to come here searching for answers.
There was a slight hum in the air that filled Jack with a sense of peace. The higher he climbed, the stronger the hum grew, until even his bones began to vibrate in perfect harmony with an energy as ancient as time itself.
His ancestors were singing, beckoning him closer to their circle of power. By the time he reached the top, Jack couldn’t tell if he was still in his world or theirs. He stood in a small opening in the forest and looked around.
He had definitely arrived at his destination.
He slid his backpack off his shoulders with a tired groan, leaned it against a crooked old pine tree, and dug out his hatchet. He found several alder saplings growing on the edge of the clearing, apparently just waiting for someone to need them. He cut down a dozen, and carried them to the center of the opening, where he drove them in the snow in a circle about ten feet wide. He returned to his pack, got out the coil of rawhide he’d brought, and started lashing the alder tips together, forming a dome.
He pulled out the colorful, slightly tattered wool blankets next, rubbing them fondly as he breathed in their familiar scent. Vivid memories cascaded through his mind: Grand-père wrapped in his favorite blanket, huddled in front of a roaring fire, seemingly oblivious to the snow falling on and around him; three more blankets exactly like these, covering his mother and father and brother as they traveled to the afterlife; Jack’s trembling body huddled inside one of them as he fought the fever the bear attack had brought on when he was twelve.
“Stop dawdling, Coyote,” Grand-père whispered through the trees. “We’ve been waiting what seems like forever for this day. Get on with your task.”
“I’m coming,” Jack muttered, tossing the blankets beside the alder dome. He picked one up and shook it out, then carefully placed it over the structure, repeating the process until his shelter was completely covered.
Picking up his pace, he built a fire just a few feet from the tiny entrance he’d left in the dome. Then, while the roaring fire did its job of making glowing embers, he went in search of water. He found a bubbling spring just beyond the clearing and knew he was standing on sacred ground. The wise ones had thoughtfully provided every necessity for anyone seeking their counsel.
Jack knelt down and drank before plunging the bucket in the spring and lugging it back to the clearing. He set it beside the dome, crawled inside, and began tramping down the snow. He cut fir boughs and covered half the floor with them, then covered the boughs with one of the two remaining blankets. He went out and shoveled as many embers as he could into the dome, just inside and to the right of the door, well away from the fir boughs. He built the fire back up, poured the bucket of water over the wool blankets covering the poles to thoroughly soak them, then went back to the spring and refilled it.
