Girl in a Buckskin

greatest fear was the wolves.
    Sometimes when there was fresh meat in the cave she would open the log door to see a long gray shadow disappear in the brush. When Eseck one day brought home the carcass of a doe he had cached in the hills he was followed all the way across the lake by a mangy-looking wolf, the leader of a pack. “It’s the cold,” he said when he reached the cave and found Becky at the door checking the priming of the musket. “They’ve never been so bold before. They are like dogs—never let them know you are afraid.”
    But that night the wolf was joined by the whole pack and they squatted on their lean haunches near the door of the cave. They were waiting, Becky realized, and shivered, saying nothing of her panic but hastening to put a new log on the fire whenever it dimmed a trifle. It was a long night and Becky’s sleep was fitful and full of nightmares. In the morning Eseck loaded the musket and went out and shot one of the wolves. It was the second time he had used his musket since they entered the valley.
    December brought new snows so that sometimes their cave was buried overnight, and an oddly luminous white light filled thr room. Restless, Eseck began to go out each day carrying his double bow and quiver of arrows but Becky was busy with plans for Christmas. Their dinner would be venison as always but the day must not go unmarked. With a great deal of resourcefulness Becky set out to make a minced pie.
    In the end there was indeed a pie. It was made of minced bear meat with a corn-meal crust, but never had Becky been prouder. She brought out the huckaback tablecloth and laid it carefully over the log table. She brought out their trenchers and spoons and when Eseck came in from looking over his snares there was a candlewood torch burning on the hearth and the tablecloth shining in the light.
    “Merry Christmas, Eseck,” she said primly, her eyes bright.
    “Merry Christmas, Becky,” he said gravely, and they sat down together at the board and ate with their best manners, using spoons instead of their fingers.
    When they had eaten Eseck said he had a present for her, and digging into his pocket he brought out a packet wrapped in skins. “Open it,” he said.
    It was a pair of wooden door hinges he had whittled for the cabin of cut logs. “Oh, Eseck,” she said softly, “we shall have a real door!”
    For him she had made new moccasins and he tried them on for her, commenting with kindness on how adept she had become so that no one might guess he could have made them better. When they had finished admiring each other’s gifts they played a game of checkers and then Eseck brought out the clay pipe he had made and had a smoke of the tobacco Blue Feather had given him several moons ago.
    “I had thought—a little—of going to Wnahtakook soon,” he said, puffing away on the pipe.
    Becky smiled faintly, knowing how much he yearned to go now that Blue Feather must be back from the long hunting trip in the north. A woman could hold herself in, taking comfort from warmth and a full larder, but a man was made differently and winter was hard for him. “Why don’t you go now, this very afternoon?” she suggested, knowing that he would not go without her leave and that no gift Would be more precious to him than a day or two away from the cave.
    His eyes brightened but he said carelessly, “Indeed I could not leave you on Christmas Day.”
    “You can take the little moccasins I’ve made for Dawn-of-the-sky’s baby when it comes—and I should dearly like to send her greetings and know all is well with her.”
    “Very well.” He stood up and quietly began to make preparations, placing the loaded musket where she could reach it in case of need, filling his knapsack with nookick and dried venison.
    “I will be back tomorrow,” Eseck said, and when he had gone Becky folded away the huckaback tablecloth and sat down to work and wait.
     

Chapter Thirteen
     
     
     
    BECKY SAW ESECK WALKING ACROSS THE FROZEN LAKE when she went out at sunrise to fill her water pail. She had never expected to see him so soon and she straightened, wondering uneasily at such an early return. There was no wind today, and the sunrise promised a fair day with even a few hours of sun. Shielding her eyes with her hand she stared across the brightening snows for a better look at Eseck’s face but as always it remained as blank of emotion as an Indian’s and told her nothing.
    “I’m back,” he said,