Chapter Four
A Slippery Slope
’Twas rough getting used to travel again, after spending so much time in one spot, but we managed.
’Twas reminiscent of our previous journey, except we were leaving friends behind and moving toward people and a place we knew, rather than trying to reach a dot on a map.
And we only needed to go about two hundred sixty miles instead of more than seven hundred.
After that journey, this one seemed like a hop, skip and a jump once we got going.
’Twould likely take less than a week, except for all the difficult terrain and having to skirt rougher, dangerous areas.
If we could have gone in a straight line, we would have been there in three days.
But we had to go around a couple of mountains, and that added time.
We were blessed with mild weather, except for one day of solid rain at the midpoint.
Now that the skies had cleared, I hoped we’d get to the relative comfort of The Angel before they broke again, since ’twasn’t much fun wearing wet clothes.
At least the days were warm. The nights were chilly and would get colder as we moved north.
We were on day five when I recognized some of the landmarks I’d used on the journey out from Telegraph Creek to Port Essington the past fall.
“Oscar, look! There’s the bent pine and the rock wall. Remember?”
His gaze followed to where I was pointing.
“Well, I don’t rightly, but I believe you do.”
“It’s where we had to turn that first time. It means we’re gettin’ close.”
“Good!”
Oscar had become progressively grumpier the farther we got from Port Essington and the comforts of home.
No doubt he’d been so desperate on that first journey and simply happy to be with me and under my protection that he’d been a mite more thankful and able to tolerate being out in the wilderness.
But now, he had good friends and a warm bed to recall when he was lying on the ground in our tent.
I reckoned he was excited to see Miss June and the girls again, but we were both worried about Cal, and that didn’t help—only made us more anxious to get there.
“We’ll be there soon. Don’t worry.”
“I ain’t worried. I only wanna stop itchin’.”
The mosquitoes had been worse on this trip, since it was only the middle of June.
I’d thought to bring some tonic from the general store, but we were getting low, and it didn’t solve the problem.
So we were both covered in bites and using mud to stop the itch as much as possible.
But we weren’t used to being so travel-dusty and dirty. The strain was starting to show.
“I know it. Me, too.”
“Do you think Miss June will have something we can put on our bites?”
“I bet she will.”
“Good!” he said, scratching at his neck. “I sure hope she can give us our own room and a cozy bed again. Honestly, Jimmy, ’tis the only thing keeping me goin’.”
I felt the same. I hoped that we’d find as much of a welcome and the same level of comfort at The Angel as we had when we’d arrived from the other direction. We had no reason to think we wouldn’t, but it had been a long time since we’d been there. And ’twouldn’t be the same without Cal.
We were heading down the low side of the last mountain we had to skirt around, and the terrain was rocky and strewn with gravel.
I must have misjudged the steepness of the slope and thought Dixie could handle it.
As soon as we started down and her hooves lost their purchase, I realized my mistake and let go of Poke’s lead so he wouldn’t be dragged down with us.
I shouted at Oscar, hoping it wasn’t too late for him and Onyx.
Then we were sliding, Dixie and I, down a gravel slope and into the trees below. At least ’twasn’t a long enough fall to kill us, but even as I thought that, I slid off my saddle and landed hard, a sharp pain slicing through my side. But all I could think about was Dixie and Oscar and Onyx.
I shouted Dixie’s name, heard Oscar yelling mine and glanced back to see him and Onyx still on the ridge, thank God. Poke stood right on the ledge of broken dirt and gravel, his hooves braced firmly against the path, with his lead rope dangling.
I looked in the other direction and saw Dixie lying in the dirt, and my heart just about stopped.
But then she made an angry grunting noise and hefted herself to her feet, shaking her head like she was humiliated, embarrassed and pissed the fuck off.
She didn’t seem to be hurt otherwise. She wandered o’er to a patch of grass and started eating.
Thank fuck.
I laid my head back on the ground and gazed upward at the blue sky, thanking God as well, as a softer slide of gravel announced Oscar’s presence beside me.
“Jimmy! Oh, my God, Jimmy!” His voice held the same note of terror I remembered from the wolf attack, when Sprite had gone down and Oscar had prepared to go to his defense with nothing but his fists, before I’d hauled him up onto Dixie’s back with me.
I gazed into his frantic face and smiled. “I’m all right.”
“No, you ain’t! You’re bleedin’!”
I shifted my gaze to where he was pointing. Sure enough, my shirt was torn, and a red stain was spreading.
“Well, will you look at that?” I said, only then feeling the sharp, burning pain of an injury.
I was sore in other places, but that one spot was on fire.
I’d taken off my jacket as the sun had heated everything up so much, and so I’d had no protection as I’d slid through the gravel and larger rocks.
Oscar knelt beside me and moved the torn fabric aside.
“Aw, fuck,” he said.
“That bad?” I commented, grimacing at the pain now.
“Well, it ain’t pretty, and it’s bleedin’ bad. You got a decent gash there.”
“Yeah, I can feel it.”
He gazed at me with barely restrained panic that I had to put an end to or he wouldn’t be able to help with anything.
“How deep is it? It hurts, but it don’t feel like it got anything important.”
Oscar pulled back the cloth of my shirt and prodded the spot a bit. When he spoke, his voice was calmer.
“There’s a lot of blood, but it don’t look like it’s all that deep. It’s long and jagged, and I reckon you’ll need stitches.”
“Hmm. All right.”
Problem was, I couldn’t stitch myself up at that angle, and I wouldn’t want to do it out here anyhow, because the risk of an infection was the big worry.
“What do I do?” Oscar asked.
“Take off your shirt and press the inside of it—the cleaner part—against the gash for a good ten minutes. Hold it and press it, hard. That should slow the bleeding.”
“Okay.” He did as I’d instructed.
Even injured like I was, the sight of Oscar’s lean muscles and bare chest and shoulders gave me a thrill, and he must have noticed.
“Well, I guess you can’t be too badly hurt, if you’re still ogling my nakedness,” he said.
I started to laugh but that made the pain worse, then Oscar pressed his inside-out, wadded-up shirt to the gash.
“Shit,” I cursed, gritting my teeth.
“Sorry. You said to press hard.”
“Yeah, I know. You got to…to stop the bleeding.” I took a deep breath. “It’s fine.” I nudged my hand under his to take over, keeping the cloth of Oscar’s shirt tight against the wound.
“Get the first-aid kit. It’s in the satchel near Poke’s left shoulder.”
He scrambled up, looking to the horse and the mule on the ridge. I followed his gaze. The slope was steep where we’d tried, and failed, to descend safely. But ten meters on from that was a safer spot for him to try.
“Look there. You should be able to climb up, and you can lead Onyx and Poke to that spot and bring them down.” I cursed. “If I’d only waited another minute to get to that spot, none of this would have happened.”
Oscar frowned. “You couldn’t have known. ’Twas a misjudgement, that’s all.”
I gave a bitter laugh at his naiveté. “Oscar, a misjudgement out here can get you killed.”
He narrowed his eyes and looked like he wanted to slap me. “Well, you ain’t killed. You only gotta slice outta your side. I’ll go, but don’t you move.”
“I won’t. I’ll stay here.”
I was trying to joke, but he didn’t seem to think ’twas funny. He got up and moved in the direction I’d indicated.
I was certain that he and the animals would be fine if he went that way, so I lay back and returned my gaze to the sky.
Fluffy clouds drifted across the blue expanse, and I focused on how pretty ’twas, praying that this injury wouldn’t delay us.
We needed to get to Telegraph Creek more’n ever now.
I didn’t want to look at the wound again, because the sight of the blood would only make me fret more, and I was already feeling queasy and lightheaded.
I sent another prayer up to a God I didn’t even know if I believed in and waited for Oscar.
He was back in no time and seemed a mite calmer, so I figured the animals had got down from the ledge okay.
“I’ve got the kit. Now what do I do?”
“How’s the bleeding? Has it slowed at all?” I lifted the wadded-up shirt away from the wound.
Oscar bent his head to have a look. “Maybe? It don’t seem to be gushing no more.”
“That’s good.”
“Are you in a lotta pain?”
“I’ve had worse. Now, get some of them long bandages from the kit. You’ll have to help me to sit up, then you gotta—” I gasped as a twinge hit me. “I’m okay. You gotta wind it around me a few times, then tie it so it keeps the pressure on the wound. Is there another bandage in that kit?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You’ll have to wad that clean bandage up and put it in place of this shirt, underneath the bandage. You think you can do that?”
“I reckon.”
Oscar helped me into a sitting position. ’Twas painful, but I kept his shirt pressed firmly on the gash. It hadn’t completely soaked with blood yet, so I took that as a good omen.
I tried to take deep breaths, but every movement of my torso hurt. Oscar’s forehead wrinkled with concentration as he did as I’d instructed. I held the clean, folded up bandage to the gash while he wrapped the other one around me a couple of times, then tied it off with a good knot.
“How long do you reckon we have to travel still?” he asked.
“I’m thinkin’ ’tis about five or so hours. We can make it before dark if we ride hard,” I said. “But we’ll rest here for a bit longer.”
“How the hell you gonna ride hard with a slice outta you, Jimmy?”
“I’ll manage. Dixie’ll do most of the work.”
“I know, but you gotta stay on her.”
“I will,” I said.