Chapter 11.1

The rain was pouring again, and Sara could hear the distant rumble of thunder. The flashes of lightning filled the cabin with a haunting glow through the crack in the door she had once again opened. Sara wanted to keep the door open as long as the wind did not force rain inside the tiny shelter.

Sara checked her phone for messages before sending a text to her husband, letting him know about the storm on top of her and that she was okay. She pulled one of the remaining charged battery packs from her backpack and plugged her phone in. Even with the signal being sketchy due to the weather and terrain, it was better than nothing.

A sudden clap of thunder rocked the cabin and sent a shiver down Sara’s spine. She would never get used to that. One of the reasons she loved hiking and camping was for the peace that came with it. The thunder set her nerves on edge and made her feel worse than before she started her vacation. The days of the never-ending storms and crashing thunder were wearing on her.

Sara looked at the journal on the table. She felt silly for being upset over a few days of thunderstorms when Herschel and Jim spent many days trapped by snow so deep it completely buried the cabin. She gave a short laugh at herself and picked up the book to continue reading.

December 12, 1879

We had a good breakfast and then went to work clearing the rest of the snow so Jim can get out. I tried to get him to let me do as much of the work as I could. That way, he could save his strength for going out and setting the snares and traps. Of course, he argued and worked right beside me the whole time. 

Jim is going to sit and rest a bit before he tries to get out. He has already laid out the path he will take and where he will set everything so that it won’t take him as much time. I worry about him going out by himself, but we have no other choice. I know I will never be able to keep up with him and would just slow him down. Speed in doing this is of the utmost importance. We have no idea how long the break in the weather will be, and he needs to be back before dark.

I am going to make some more fry bread so he can take that and a little of the venison that is left with him. We don’t have a lot left, but he needs to keep up his strength. Jim is our best hope of getting more food. 

Sara paused in her reading and thought of what Herschel had written about the weather they were experiencing. The similarities in the cycling of the storms were extremely close to the weather she was dealing with. The only difference was that for her, it was June and warm. For Herschel and Jim, it was December. That meant blizzards and not the thunderstorms she was experiencing.

Sara got up from the table to refill her coffee cup with water. She looked at the cup in her hand and thought twice about more coffee. Her nerves were already on edge due to the storm. Drinking something with caffeine was the last thing she should be doing.  

Sara went back to the table and dropped into her chair. She would stick with her water bottle and trail mix as she continued to read. She popped a piece of dried fruit in her mouth as she picked up the journal and opened it to her place.

December 12, 1879

Second entry. Jim has been gone longer than he should have been. It is almost dark outside, and I am worried about him. I tried to climb out to go look for him, and I couldn’t. Between my bad joints and only having one arm that works, I couldn’t climb up to the top of the snow. 

There are so many things that could have gone wrong even if he were not injured. With him being hurt, it makes things so much worse. I was digging and packing more snow so I might be able to get out and track him. I had to rest for a while. I will get back to it soon.

December 12, 1879

Third entry. Dear God, please help us. Jim stumbled back to the cabin while I was trying to clear more snow. He had slipped and fallen, which would have been a minor thing if he was not already injured. Being hurt, the fall broke something loose in his chest. He was coughing up blood and nearly screaming from the pain.

I helped Jim to bed, and he is asleep now. Asleep, or he passed out from the pain. I don’t know which one it is. I don’t think it really matters which it is. In the morning, I will start working on digging out more snow. I do not know what else to do. 

As I write this, I can hear Jim trying to breathe. He is gasping in his sleep. I wish I knew of something to help him. I have tried to make him warm and comfortable. That is the best I can do right now while he is sleeping. 

I feel so helpless. Sarah, my love, I feel the same way that I did when I lost you and our beautiful Timothy the day you gave birth to him. I want to save him with all of my heart, and there is nothing I can do for him. 

Sara had to stop reading and regain her composure. Tears were streaming down her face. The injuries Herschel was describing would not be survivable in that era and without medical intervention. She had no doubt about that. Sara felt nauseous as she thought about Herschel being helpless to give any aid to Jim, to know in his gut that his best friend would most likely die.

Sara went to the door and began to breathe in the rain-cooled air. She needed to calm her stomach. She had seen injuries like this more times than she could count as a trauma nurse. 

A snort made her jump. Sara saw the buck looking around the corner of the cabin at her. The deer hesitantly stepped toward the narrow opening in the door. 

“Ted, you already pushed me off a cliff. If I were going to hurt you, I would have done it by now,” Sara told the deer as she wiped tears from her face. 

The deer stopped moving and looked at her. The rain was coming down in sheets. Sara was confused as to why it would be out in that weather. The deer started inching its way toward the door again. Sara stepped back as the deer approached her. He stuck his snout in the door’s opening and began to sniff her through the door, tipping his head from side to side, bumping his antlers as he did. 

“I guess you’re not so bad, are you?” Sara said barely above a whisper. “I’m going to sit down and read more. You can hang out here if you want.”

The deer responded with a slight huff as he pulled his head out of the door. Sara smiled at him as he gracefully stepped backward, avoiding her tarp, before he turned and glided off into the rain. Sara was shaking her head as she went back to the table and sat. That deer just kept surprising her.

Sara picked up the journal and looked at it. She was preparing herself in the same way that she would if she knew a patient was critically injured and was not expected to survive. This was the same thing she was trying to escape from by taking the vacation.  Sara opened the journal and began to read again.

December 12, 1879

Fourth entry. Jim is nearly delirious with pain. He keeps coughing up blood. He said every breath feels like he is being ripped apart. He wants nothing to drink or eat. He will not even take a sip of the willow bark tea. He says it will not help him. I do not know what to do. 

I sit here at the table, listening to Jim breathe. It is the sound of a death rattle, like if you shoot a deer and it does not go down immediately. I remember that sound from the war, and I will never forget it. I hate that sound.

I am going to tend the fire one last time and then try to lie down. I do not expect to sleep, but I can at least rest. I have to do my best to dig out of here tomorrow and take care of the snares and traps Jim set. I know how bad he is hurt. I also know how bad he seemed to be hurt before. He surprised me then, and he might surprise me now.

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