He cleared his throat. “He was standing on the trail when I looked up, so I stopped, and he fired.”
“He say anything?”
“No.”
“You?”
“I believe I may have gasped before clutching my stomach and falling to the ground, but that is all.”
I punched the button on the radio. “Come in, this is Unit One of the Absaroka County Sheriff’s Department, anybody out there?” I waited again. “If anybody can hear me, I’ve got two men down and need assistance on the trail of Lost Twin. I need backup and medical. If anybody can hear me, your assistance would be greatly appreciated.”
“That would be an understatement.”
I sighed. “Think you surprised him?”
“Yes, but all things considered I think he surprised me more.” He glanced past me to George who was starting to gather his commensurate amount of snow. “He is out?”
I looked back over my shoulder. “Yep.”
He raised a bloodstained hand to my arm. “You better get going.”
I turned and knelt down to check George’s pupils for any dilation or constriction; they appeared normal for now. I was concentrating, so it took a moment for me to process what he had said. “What?”
He gestured toward the prone George Esper. “You have to get him out of here.”
It hit me all at once what it was he was saying. “I’m not leaving you.”
He continued to slowly shake his head. “You do not have any choice. He is smaller, and you can make it out with him.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
He smiled. “Do not be mistaken, I have no intentions of dying. I will wait for you, here.”
“It’ll be after dark, in a blizzard. We won’t find you.”
“Then I will have to find you.”
My shoulders sagged a little, but I kept my eyes on him. “All right, knock it off with the mystical horseshit. You are gut shot, and the chances of your surviving are narrow enough without you crawling around out here.” His smile saddened a little. “What?”
“It is the mystical horseshit that is going to save my life.”
I looked away and sighed. “Sorry.”
“Do me a favor?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not putting you out of your misery.”
“I have a small bag in my front pocket. If you would please get it out for me?” I reached for the front pocket of his coat, unbuttoned the flap, and pulled out a small, green velvet satchel with a ledger horse and warrior stitched across the front. There were beads and feathers attached to the opening at the top, and there were a number of items under the soft fabric, some discernible, some a mystery. I handed the medicine bag to him, and we didn’t mention it again. “You have to take him.” His smile brightened again. “Who knows, perhaps the weather will cooperate.” He grimaced and shifted his weight.
“Pain?”
“No, I have plenty, thank you.”
I wanted to punch him.
In spite of our hopes, the wind had increased and, with an introduction of ground fog, visibility had dropped to within ten feet. I once again glanced back at George and considered the 170-odd pounds I was going to be carrying for roughly the next three-quarters of an hour. At least it was downhill. My attention was drawn to the foot that stuck up just above the drop off, and I wondered if it might be a Vasque, size nine. When I turned back around, Henry had pulled the hood back a little, and his eyes had sharpened. “You must go, now.”
The longer I waited, the less chance he had. “You want me to move you up against one of the trees for a little shelter?”
“No, I am not moving until you get back.” His jaw clamped shut, the muscles bunched like fists on both sides of his face, and I wished like hell that I were the one who had been shot. I slipped off my jacket, careful to take out the bottle of water, and placed another layer over his front. “What are you doing?”
“If I’m carrying him out, I’ll be sweating like a pig once I get there. You’ll need this more than me.” I opened the water bottle and drained it in one continuous chug.
“Go.”
I bent down to scoop up the water bottles that had fallen on the trail. He watched as I vented a lot of frustration by throwing each of them as far as they would travel. We listened as they glanced off the tree branches in the distance and landed with satisfying thumps. I turned and looked down at him and tossed the empty over the hill. “Promise you won’t eat the snow.”
“I promise.”
I gave him a quick smile of my own. “I just thought I’d tell you, I’m taking you off the official suspect list.”
“I am comforted.” He didn’t look it, but I placed my hand lightly on his shoulder, and we understood what it was that we didn’t have to say.
I stood and trudged the small distance down the hill and paused at George’s boots: Vasques, size nine. I brushed the snow away and tried to gently shake the still unconscious George Esper into some semblance of awake. If he came to, it was possible that I could assist Henry and we could all get out; but there was no response, so I reached into his pockets, found his keys, and stuffed them into my Carhartts. If nobody was there to meet us, at least I would have a place to put George. But if nobody was there, how was I going to get a gut-shot, 220-pound man out of the woods? I decided to tackle one problem at a time. Grasping George by one arm and drawing him over my shoulder, I leveraged him up. He didn’t weigh 170, probably closer to a buck and a half, which reassured me a small amount. I stood with him over my shoulders and straightened my back, even though the majority of his weight seemed to remain on my right side. It wasn’t going to be easy but leaving him in an unconscious state and making a mad dash for the trailhead didn’t seem to be an option. He might die of hypothermia, even though I wasn’t so sure that Henry wouldn’t. But if I was betting on who could withstand the rigors of staying alive, my money was on the Bear. I was careful as I made my way up the small grade to the general flat of the trail and stopped to look down at my friend. “Couldn’t you have shot him first?”
He didn’t raise his head, but his voice rumbled, “What do you think?”
I thought about kicking his foot in response but was afraid that any unnecessary movement should be avoided, even a sign of affection. So I turned into the wind, shrugged George a little higher onto my shoulders, and kicked off the first steps of many to come.
Just a little away from all the action, I came across a nice fly rod and a creel resting beside the trail. I kicked the creel over, but it was empty. George’s luck was holding. I was frustrated and getting angry, so I used that as fuel to get me going. The problem with anger is that once it burns out, you’re left with empty tanks. I stopped and caught my breath. I thought about shrugging George off and taking a rest, but I didn’t do it for fear that putting him back on might be more than I could manage. There was that, and then there was Henry.
As I had been making my way, I had heard him begin singing. It was a low voice that found a way to cut through the noise of the wind and join with it to carry its ghostly sound across the valley. I had heard Henry sing a number of times at religious ceremonies on the reservation and at powwows that he had dragged me to. I was always surprised by the tonal quality of his voice. The power and strength were a given, but the intricate patterns that it expressed, the infinite ability instantly to change tone, always made me smile. Good friends are the ones who can remain close without losing their ability to surprise. I listened as the driving rhythm of his song carried me farther, and his voice remained with me down the long descent into West Tensleep Valley.