 
DAVID SHATH SQUARE Chapter Thirty-nine
When the dog sled reached the cabin, my grandfather let go of the traces and helped me to walk to the door. I was so bundled in moose hides that he had to push me through the narrow entrance.
Inside, Lee Chang had a fire roaring in the woodstove. He had prepared a meal of trout, grouse and venison. Hilda lay happily in her pouch on the grass bed, her hunger sated by a bottle of canned milk diluted with water and sugar Lee Chang had brought with him. My grandfather ordered me to strip off my wet clothes and stand next to the fire wrapped in hides until my teeth stopped chattering. He walked over to where Hilda lay and picked her up.
"Damn if she ain't the purdiest baby I ever seen. Lucky for her she favours her momma." Hilda began to cry under my grandfather's scrutiny. Lee Chang had to take her, offering the bottle of canned milk to soothe her.
Mr. Grandfather asked, "Now why in hell's bells would you be totin' canned milk around with yuh?"
"Mr. Jeb, tea and canned milk are only two beverages I enjoy. Tea soothes mind and diluted canned milk and sugar easy on digestion."
"Okay. I get that. But why'd you bring a bottle with a nipple on it?"
"I think if Miss Thoreena have baby, she may require help feeding."
My grandfather looked with respect at Lee Chang. "You could'a been a hell 'uv a boy scout."
There was a knock at the door. My grandfather opened it.
My father entered carrying the front poles of the travois; Myron Mann carried the back end. Thoreena was lying face up on the travois, her skin waxen with a bluish tinge. I grasped one of her ice cold hands, tried to warm it between my palms. "How is she? She's going to be okay, right? Thoreena, it's me Hardy. Get up. The baby is fine. Get up, Thoreena. Show me you're okay."
My father said, "Hardy, she can't hear you. She's in a coma. The good news is she's breathing and she has a faint heart beat. We've got to warm her up fast."
My father and Myron Mann placed the travois on the floor close to the woodstove. Thoreena's buckskin clothing was frozen stiff so my father cut it away with a knife. The men, who had filtered into the cabin, averted their eyes.
Suddenly my father exclaimed, "My god! Hardy, what is this?"
He was staring at the swollen, puckered scar that extended from Thoreena's navel to her pubic bone. Every man in the room looked at the terrible wound, then at me with suspicion. Even my grandfather and Lee Chang were taken aback.
The Swede was the first to react. "What you have done to my beautiful Thoreena? You murderer!" He rushed at me with his fists raised, but my grandfather collared him before he could take a swing at me.
"Hold them horses, Swede. Let the boy tell his side afore you go to accusin' him of murder," my grandfather said.
Everyone continued to stare at me.
I struggled for words. "It was the birth. Thoreena said it was a breech birth and . . . and she and the baby would die if I didn't cut her open to get the baby out." I stopped to take a deep breath, and then the rest of the story poured out: "She said she knew a pregnant Indian woman who was gored by a bull and the baby fell out of her stomach and lived and so did the woman."
My grandfather put a hand on my shoulder.
He said, "I don't want no one lookin' askance at Hardy ( it was the first time in his life he'd used my given name) or Thoreena. They's stronger, braver people than any us 'll ever be. I'm proud of both these here kids. Now let's get on with our business."
After that, the tension in the room dissipated a little. The men gathered in groups to talk among themselves. But despite my grandfather's admonishment, every once in a while one of the men would glance in my direction. I could discern respect in some glances and accusation in others.
My father said, "You all heard Jeb. Let's clear this room. We've got work to do."
He instructed me to lie as close as possible to Thoreena. He covered us with moose hides and tucked them carefully under us. Then he stood up to examine his work, but was somehow dissatisfied.
He motioned to Myron Mann. "Myron, you'd best get under there too, on the opposite side to Hardy. Body heat is the surest way to resuscitate a hypothermia victim."
I wasn't too excited about Myron Mann lying beside my wife, but I kept my mouth shut because I knew it was best for Thoreena. The cold that radiated from her body was already penetrating my flesh, working its way into my bones.
Except for my grandfather and Lee Chang, who stayed inside to care for Hilda, the rest of the men went outside to further discuss the situation. After he was satisfied that Thoreena was as comfortable as possible, my father knelt beside me and kissed me on the forehead. I was astonished. My father had never shown such affection to me in his entire life. I didn't know how to respond. I just lay there on the floor and smiled up at him. He touched my forehead with his hand and then stood up.
"Come on, Jeb, let's get outside and see what kind of medical equipment we've got on the sled." He and my grandfather went outside but I could hear them talking through the cabin door.
Someone said to my grandfather, "Jeb, I don't care for the direction of that wind. This time 'a year a southeasterly could drop thee feet 'a snow on us afore mornin'. I think we should git Thoreena out right quick afore we's socked in by a blizzard."
"Hold on," said my father. "We can't move her until she comes out of the coma. At this point, her pulse is too weak. Moving her would kill her."
"I gotta agree with Jude," said my grandfather. "That young woman has been to hell and back. She's gotta rest some before we moves her."
"And what if we are socked in by a blizzard meantime?" someone else asked.
"I reckon we'll just take our chances," my grandfather said.
He turned away from the men, walked to the dog sled and began to rummage through the equipment for Doc MacBrew's medical kit.
My father said, "Let's get these huskies bedded down for the night. Have we got anything for them to eat?"
"Yeh," the sled owner said, "I brought plenty of dried fish. And there's a root cellar in the cabin filled with fish, venison and grouse. Those two kids sure did a fine job of feeding and clothing themselves."
My father nodded and walked over to my grandfather. "Anything useful in Doc MacBrew's medical kit, Jeb?"
"There's some sulpha powder, a syringe, some morphine and some penicillin. I reckon we could sprinkle the sulpha over that incision. Might take care of local infection. But I don't know if we should shoot her up with penicillin or morphine while she's still in a coma. Might make her condition worse."
"The morphine won't do any good at this point," said my father. "And I'm not sure about the penicillin. In her condition, it could kill her."
My grandfather said, "Don't you think we ought a tell Hardy 'bout the penicillin? Reckon it's his decision whether to use it now or wait till she's out of the coma."
My father considered. "He's not ready to make that decision. He's just a boy."
"I think you're sellin' him short, Jude. He's a man now and should be makin' his own decisions."
My father thought for a few moments more before he picked up the packet of sulpha powder and started for the cabin.
"He's not ready, Jeb. He's too concerned about Thoreena to make a sound judgement."
Before my father could leave, my grandfather restrained him.
Jude, I've got somethin' I've been wantin' to say to you for awhile. Ever since I came out of that coma I've been thinkin' about you and watchin' you with Hardy. You're a good man, Jude. You're a natural leader and you've got a kind heart. I misjudged you badly 'cause of the way I figured you treated your wife when she was dyin'. I even believed some a those crazy rumours 'bout you and Myron bein' nancy-boys. I was angry 'cause I didn't think you had the guts to stand by your woman. But I think I know why you done it.
loved her so bad you couldn't watch her die. I had so many wives in my life that I don't reckon I ever learned how to love completely. But you did. And I wasn't no help 'cause I couldn't understand the power of your love. I wasn't there for you, but Myron was. He was the father I should a been. But that don't mean I ain't proud of you. It jus' took me a long time to figure it out, son."
My father said, "It was a bad time for all of us, Jeb... you and me and Hardy. We're just stubborn, opinionated people who do what we think is right, even if it hurts the people we love. Maybe it's a family curse. I can't imagine a future in which we never have another disagreement or argument. But I do accept your apology...and I am proud to call you father."
Then he turned and entered the cabin. I heard him cut open the packet of sulpha with a long skinning knife. He kneeled beside me, handing me the open packet.
He said, "Hardy, sprinkle this over Thoreena's wound. It will help to prevent local infection."
I lifted the moose hides gently, did as he said. I noticed pus was beginning to form where the sinew stitches pierced her skin.
When I had returned the hides, my father asked, "Has there been any change in her breathing?"
"It's less shallow. And her body is warming up."
"Good," he said.
"Father. I want to give Thoreena the morphine and the penicillin now."
"How do you know about the medicine?"
"I heard you and Jeb talking outside."
"No, Hardy. It's too risky. The morphine will slow down her breathing and she's not in pain while she's in a coma. She doesn't need it. And I don't know how the penicillin will react with her circulation so weak. For all I know it might kill her."
To Chapter Thirty-eight
Copyright © 2001 David Square/Log Cabin Chronicles/02.01 |
