Chapter 14
Troy organized another rabbit hunt to take up the rest of the afternoon, but he had no hope of matching the previous success. He took everyone who would come, and he left Owney Lee and Vera Bartok in charge of camp. To his surprise Jefferson Burns wanted to go along, and Troy couldn't refuse the extra help.
There was no fire ahead of them now to drive the little animals out, and their only hope of finding game was to search out the little valleys where the fire had laid only a light finger on the vegetation. It was no good hunting the burned-off heavy cover, because no animal could have survived the intense heat of the wall of flame that had swept over the landscape.
The first small canyon that they explored turned out to be a small success in that they found four rabbits that had been driven there to perish in the flames. The meat was partly cooked, and it would be a dirty job cleaning the half-burned animals, but it was food. Troy checked the sun and figured that there would be time for one more canyon before dark.
A rattlesnake's dry warning sounded, and Troy backed off, to see Burns pin the reptile down with a stick. The man's fat hands were deft, and he tossed the snake to one side with the ease of long practice. Troy was sure he knew who his snakey assailant had been. The straggly line of people went deeper into the boxed valley and were stopped by the angry cough of a huge cat. Troy went forward to scout the situation and found a large cougar that had been interrupted in stalking two badly burned deer.
Troy could tell that the stalk was not one of hunger, for the cat's belly hung low to the ground. He guessed that the animal had been feasting on the fire-maimed small life of the area. The bad thing was that the cat was trapped by their approach. Troy wanted those two deer, and he knew that they could get them with little effort if it were not for the cougar.
Troy seized a club and approached the animal warily, but a sense of possession had settled on the cat and it evidently felt that the deer were its own property by the right of discovery. There was no easy way to play hopscotch and get between the deer and the cat. Troy remembered Burns's snake.
"Can you go back and find that snake again, Burns? I have the idea that we can get rid of pussy here with it."
Burns seemed eager to please, and he raced back as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. He returned a few minutes with the snake dangling from one hand. He walked past Troy holding the thing in front of him, and Troy had to admire the little man's courage. It took guts to face a cougar in the open with nothing but a snake for a defensive weapon.
Troy made his hunters line up along one wall of the canyon so that the cougar could see a way to escape, and then Burns began a slow advance. Troy knew that mountain lions were not particularly fond of rattlers, but on the of her hand, they were used to a mutual existence and would not run from fear of a reptile. Burns kept up his slow advance, and Troy saw the cougar pace back and forth in restless indecision.
A snake on the ground was an entirely different thing from a snake in a man's hand, particularly if that foolish man kept coming ahead after coughed warnings. The deer did not seem to be so much a prize now in the face of these strange doings. The cougar saw the open line of escape, and he loped off with a sort of embarrassed disdain for the line-up audience.
Burns looked to Troy for orders and got a shrug. The fat man adeptly flipped the snake end for end, and with a quick flick of his arm he snapped off the reptile's head. Troy waved his hand for his foot hunters to encircle the crippled deer, and it was all over with a couple of quick blows with Troy's club. The hunting party was jubilant with their success. Their jubilance lasted until they discovered that the dead animals had to be carried back to camp.
Troy lightened the load by gutting out the carcasses right there, and that turned out to be labor with the tiny knife that he was forced to use. He was bloody, tired, and angry when he turned around after the job to find that everyone but Burns had gone back to camp. Troy shouldered the large carcass and then dropped it to help Burns hoist the other animal for carrying.
Burns had nothing going for him except willingness. They had to stop time and again for the little man to catch his breath. The stops became longer and the time between stops became shorter as they neared their destination. Troy, feeling the weight of his own load, lent Burns an arm, and the man tried to stammer out his thanks.
"Never mind, Burns. Hell, I'm grateful that you stayed behind to help carry the stuff in."
"It's to my own benefit. I have to eat to live. Oh ... Woodford, I-have a confession to make."
"If it's about a snake, you can save your breath. Let's go again."
He and Burns finally staggered into camp and dropped their loads by the fire. He was concerned for Burns's heart, but the fat little man shrugged off the attention. Troy was grateful for the help that Burns had given him, but he was glad that there was to be no truce between them.
As the passengers, including the early-returned hunters, gathered around the meat, already savoring the taste of venison steaks, Troy's patience was exhausted. He thanked them sarcastically for all the help they had given him, and some of them had enough conscience to be sheepish. Troy turned over the meat to Angela with cooking instruction. She was to slice up the two livers and broil them for this evening's meal. The hearts were to be put in water to boil overnight.
"Fine, Troy, but where's the pot? No cookware, remember?"
Troy improvised. He had Jay remove the bus's hood, and it was scrubbed out with sand and turned upside down over the fire. Troy propped it up with rocks to level it, and Angela had her pot.
They had broiled liver and canned fruit cocktail for dinner that evening and there was enough to take the rough edge off their accumulating hunger. Troy refused to cut off steaks, and there was grumbling at the rationing.
Angela sliced up the deer hearts and added a foil package of onion powder to the soup. Some individual packets of dried vegetables were tossed into the pot, and Troy knew that he had made another mistake when the aroma of the cooking made everyone's mouth water. Angela added the rabbits to the stew, and Troy approved the addition.
He relented his decision to ration strictly around eleven o'clock that night, and everyone had a cupful of broth to sleep on. He turned down a joint invitation from Willa and Andra to share the warmth of their bed, and he also apologized to Lorena Diaz when she wanted to use him for sex. He knew that he would have been accepted if he had made invitations on his own to other women in the party, but somehow sex had temporarily lost its appeal.
He dozed off with a bemused smile on his face for coming to the place where he could refuse a pretty girl. Sex, he found, was like anything else-good until you had a surplus. He slept soundly and didn't know until he woke up around four in the morning that Angela had taken over sentry duty. She had also covered him with her blanket. These were things that Troy couldn't thank her for. He never could find words to express heartfelt emotions.
She had been sitting close to the fire for hours and she was stiff in her joints when he helped her to the rude bed. He pulled off her shoes and massaged her cold feet with hands that told her of his gratitude. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders and then bent down to press a kiss on her cheek. Her sleepy eyes fluttered wide open, and her arm came out to encircle his neck. She turned her head and kissed him full on the mouth.
The arm went back under the blanket, and she was sound asleep in an instant. He squatted there in shock for a long minute while the effects of the kiss registered in every fiber of his being. He catalogued past experience and found that no other kiss had ever offered him so much.
The memory of that kiss interfered with his attempt to ponder a way out of their predicament. He could wish that Jay was more of a woodsman. He did wish that he had someone familiar enough with woodcraft to walk out, follow the road down the mountain, and bring back help, but aside from himself, there was no one. He himself should not go and leave the group on their own. Too much could happen to them in his absence.
Perhaps if he formed a coalition of camp governors and laid down strict rules to be followed explicitly, he might leave. It did seem to be the only course of action left to him. They had to make their presence here known to someone or they'd never get out alive. He was still considering pros and cons when Vera got up to build up the fire for breakfast.
The shortage of water was beginning to be a serious problem. Lorena had found a bucket-like depression that filled slowly with sepage from an underground spring, but that supplied only their drinking needs. The lack of water to wash was becoming a social problem, and a few more days like this would bring about friction and, finally, outright fighting.
Everyone but Angela and Bart Coldridge was up by eight, and they breakfasted on the thick broth and tough slices of deer heart. Troy made Vera save some for Angela, and Bart was spoon-fed by Marilyn. He brought his charges together around ten in the morning and explained his idea about going for help. It met with opposition.
Burns was sure that Troy was running out on them, the lesbians were sure that they could make it to Casper's Crossing on their own, Jay wanted to prove something to himself and try the trip, Vera ... But it went on and on with so many different views of the seriousness of the situation that Troy called a halt to the general discussion.
"You all know what has to be done around here and you all know that you have to do it. Above all, the food has to be rationed very sparingly. I'd suggest that you cut down on your activity so that you don't build too much appetite. Conserve your strength and keep the fires going. I'll postpone going until early morning, but if I delay beyond that, it lessens our chances. Now, do you want to elect your own chief of party or do I appoint someone?"
He found out that in spite of keeping them alive so far, he was not trusted. They preferred to chose their own leader, and Troy found out that the more you did for people, the more you were expected to do. His leadership had been taken for granted as a matter of course.
Angela drew him aside late in the afternoon.
"I'm going with you tomorrow morning, Troy." He started to protest, but her cool hand covered his. "Two have a better chance than one, and I'm the only one here who can keep up with you walking. I'm in condition, and I'm stronger than I look. Don't argue with me, dammit! What happens to all of us if you slip and break an ankle or something? You can't have us put all of our eggs in your basket. Think it over and you'll see that I'm right."
They were interrupted with the news that the long wrangle of leadership was over and Jay had been elected to that post of dubious distinction. That news kicked the props out of Troy's idea to have Jay accompany him on the trip. Angela had brought up a point that he hadn't considered. He realized that he had been running under the delusion that he was all-powerful and invincible.
Jay listened carefully to all of Troy's advice, but Troy was wondering how much of it would stick. Helene was standing beside Jay, and Troy sensed that they had a new understanding. He felt better about leaving things in Jay's hands with Helene there to temper judgments and decisions.
Troy made the rounds and talked privately to everyone. He asked Jefferson Burns to do all he could to help Jay, and he found that Burns was not the same man who had started on the tour. Most of the bluster was gone, and Troy guessed that the obvious affair that Bart and Marilyn were conducting had something to do with Burns' loss of drive.
Troy tried to talk to Marilyn, but he was sure that none of his advice got through the facade she had built to surround Bart and herself.
Owney Lee had recovered somewhat from Bart's vicious attack and Troy learned that she didn't hold any rancor toward the hippie. "Hell, man, a whore has good days and bad. It's all a part of the whole bag. The damned scene was made, an' we can't change that. He's in enough trouble as it is."
Franki and Jonni listened to him with cold politeness, and Troy knew that they would lend Jay their cooperation as long as it didn't interfere with their own plans. Troy saw Jonni's eyes follow Andra about, and he guessed that Andra had yielded to the lesbian. Those Middlewest school kids would have a teacher with an enlarged viewpoint next fall.
Troy came to Bart Coldridge last. The young man glared up at him in defiance. His face would need plastic surgery before he would become acceptable in public again. Troy almost felt sorry for him.
"I don't think you're in shape to give Jay any trouble, but be careful, Bart. You'd have been lynched when you raped Owney if they'd have been able to find you. Don't press-your luck."
"Don't spit on me, man. Cool the whole thing. I've got it made now. Hell, they can't take me in the army now, an' Marilyn tells me that she's got a bunch of bucks. She'll get me fixed up again, an' we'll be off an' runnin'!"
"Where?"
Troy had done what he could to ease Jay's tenure as chief of camp. He wasn't satisfied with the job he had done, but he couldn't do everything. Troy noticed that Jay made a poor start with dinner. Maybe it was a matter of opinion, but Jay gave orders to serve deer steaks, and Troy knew that the last of the smoke-dried fish would be bad by tomorrow night. It was a waste that might later be regretted.
He slept better with the load of responsibility off his shoulders. He noticed that Jay had neglected to set a night watch. He was about to remind him of this oversight, when he saw that Helene had chosen to share his blanket again. He couldn't find it in himself to interrupt the reunion.
He surprised himself in that he paid no further attention to Jay and Helene's sexual reunion. At anther time he would have been vicariously interested in anything sexual. He worried whether he was getting prematurely old or just getting to the point where the influence of sex was losing out.
His dreams betrayed him when he had slept out his fatigue. He was again a human tomcat who roamed the night for strange women. He was again prowling alleys for partners to titillate those few nerve endings in the pit of his stomach that brought so much delight. Only one thing spoiled the dreaming-the many partners blended into one, and he couldn't see the sexy girl's face. Somehow her identity seemed important.