The Journey Home Read Free Page B

body collapse over the waterfall’s edge and go tumbling down. It was as if Bull’s ghost were haunting them.

    On the day before Thanksgiving, Jake and Taylor stirred a blackened iron pot hanging over the fire pit outside the cabin. Since their trip into town, the weather had grown colder, and now the two boys huddled close to the open flames. Puffs of fog escaped from their mouths as they breathed.
    â€œYou think it’s ready?” Taylor asked, peering into the pot.
    â€œHow would I know? I’ve never boiled balsamroot before.”
    â€œFeels more like Halloween than Thanksgiving, huh?” Taylor grinned and stirred some more. “Abracadabra!”
    Jake laughed. “Don’t want to burn yourself before the medicine is done.”
    Abe had given Jake and Taylor the job of digging up, cleaning, cutting, and shredding the arrowleaf balsamroot before dropping it into a pot of slow-boiling water. They’d been hard at work all morning.
    â€œY’know, they had Band-Aids and antiseptic back at the store,” Jake said drily. It was as if their dad were trying to cram them full of wilderness knowledge to get back all those years when he hadn’t been around.
    â€œYeah, but this is way cooler,” Taylor said. Nothing could dampen his spirits.
    The cabin door banged open, and Abe appeared. “How’s that medicine coming?”
    â€œWe think it’s almost done,” said Taylor.
    â€œLooks good. Take it off to cool and then get the rifles.”
    Taylor’s eyes widened, and Jake sat bolt upright. “Are we going hunting?”
    â€œTomorrow’s Thanksgiving,” Abe answered. “So we need to get ourselves some dinner.”

    A half hour later Abe, the boys, and Cody were following a game trail along a stream that ran down from the higher mountain peaks. Despite the cold, Jake’s palms were sweaty where they gripped his rifle.
    Usually Abe carried the main rifle, a .30-06, but today he went empty-handed. “I’m leaving the shooting to you two today,” he’d said. “You guys are going to bring home Thanksgiving dinner.”
    â€œNo pressure, then,” Jake had said, grinning. Abe had smiled back.
    Back at home in Pennsylvania a gun had been a thing of fear, but out here the weight of it felt almost reassuring in his hands. It was strange how something so dangerous now felt useful. Instead of using guns to intimidate people, like Bull had done, they were using them for survival.
    As they walked, Cody flushed out a small flock of turkeys. Jake jumped at the sudden flurry of wings andinstantly cursed himself for being so on edge. Taylor, with a cooler head, leveled his gun and took aim.
    â€œNo!” Abe yelled. “Don’t shoot!”
    â€œHuh?” Taylor blinked.
    â€œBetter to have a shotgun for those, buddy. Besides, we don’t want to scare off any larger game.”
    Reluctantly Taylor lowered the rifle.
    It wasn’t long before Jake spotted signs of the “larger game” his dad was after. He held up his hand, and they all froze. “Prints!” he whispered. “See there, along the stream? They’re split. That means deer.”
    Cody began sniffing excitedly, while Abe, Jake, and Taylor squatted down to examine the tracks.
    â€œWhite-tailed?” Taylor asked.
    â€œProbably mulies,” said Abe. “They’re a bit bigger. The tracks look fresh too. Want to try to catch up with them?”
    â€œWhat do you think?” Jake replied with a chuckle.
    They set off at a faster pace. There were no jokes now. Nobody said a word. They communicated in gestures and glances.
    After they’d followed the trail through the trees, the tracks suddenly split into two separate groups.
    â€œNow what?” Taylor whispered, breaking the silence.
    â€œWe split up,” Abe said under his breath. “Taylor, come with me. We’ll go after the larger group. Jake, you and Cody