Starfish_ A Novel - James Crowley [27]
The three cleaned up from their supper and stoked the fire for the still-freezing night. Lionel washed the dishes with water carried up from the creek, while Beatrice and Grandpa unloaded the rest of the supplies from the travois behind the old mule. There were more canned preserves and vegetables, small burlap sacks of seeds for a garden, sacks of grain for Ulysses, more ammunition for the rifle, and a variety of other essentials such as flour, corn meal, matches, bar soap, and long tallow candles.
After washing the dishes, Lionel turned his attention toward Grandpa’s bow and small quiver of handmade arrows. He marveled at the simple beauty of them, and before he knew it, found himself taking an arrow and placing it on the strung bow. Lionel heard Beatrice and Grandpa laughing as they came toward the door and thought that he might get in trouble for going through his grandfather’s things. He spun around to replace the items, but as he did, he felt the arrow slip from the taut sinew string.
The arrow shot across the room just as Beatrice and Grandpa entered, then ricocheted off the stone fireplace.
“What in the hell?” Grandpa fell backward, knocking Beatrice to the floor and watching the arrow sail out the open door into the moonlight.
Lionel didn’t know what to do, so he dropped the bow.
“I see you found the bow.” Grandpa laughed as he slowly got back to his feet. “It’s not bright to monkey with something that you know nothing about. That’s how people get hurt.”
Beatrice just stared at Lionel. Lionel felt like he was about two feet tall.
“Let’s unpack the supplies and I’ll tell ya all about it. Tomorrow I’ll show you how to make your own bow and maybe, if you promise to hold your fire, teach you how to shoot.”
They unpacked the supplies as Grandpa continued to tease Lionel about his archery skills. Lionel didn’t mind, as it sure seemed to make Beatrice laugh. when Beatrice did laugh, which was not often, it was infectious. It started low, as a giggle, and slowly grew. She laughed herself into a coughing fit several times over the course of that evening.
Once the supplies were unpacked and their chores were done, the children settled in before the fire and their grandfather, sitting with his pipe in one of the old creaking chairs. They sat in silence for a while as Grandpa asked them to think about the day and to be happy for what they had. Lionel fell asleep lying next to his sister, appreciating the warmth of the buffalo robe. He did not remember having any dreams when he woke up the next morning.
Chapter Seventeen
AN ORDERED LODGE • SMOKING GAME • OLD MAN AND THE BUFFALO • THE GARDEN • STRAW MAN
THE FOLLOWING day was busy and reminded Lionel of the hectic times back at the boarding school. They got up early and ate a breakfast of cold venison, canned peaches, and coffee. Then Grandpa led them to one of the small outbuildings that stood in shambles within the woods that surrounded the meadow and fallen lodge.
They cleared away the dense undergrowth, revealing the small encampment’s smokehouse. Grandpa informed them that they must treat the game they killed if they wanted to preserve it and avoid getting sick.
Grandpa knocked out a small hole in the side of the building with an ax and converted two old bean cans to replace the little building’s rusted stovepipe. He placed the cans into the hole to keep a flow of air to the fire that they were going to build to smoke the meat.
Grandpa started the fire in their latest addition and asked Lionel to gather wood and stack it against the log sides. Then Grandpa and Beatrice cut the rest of the venison into strips, laid it out in the sun, and covered it with salt. Grandpa said that the salt would help to pull the moisture from the meat and prevent it from