People of the Lakes(99)
Clamshell’s head steadied for a moment. “Can you imagine that, girl? Men crossed the world just to look, just to be able to go back and say that they’d seen me.”
“It must have been wonderful.” Humor the old woman. After all, she’d provided them with a warm—if dirty—bed, and a safe day’s sleep. That had to be worth listening to a few flights of imagination.
Clamshell glanced at her. “You look pretty miserable, girl.
Well, pay it no mind, for things will get better. And having the Magician for a friend, you can’t do much better than that.”
“People are looking for us.”
“They won’t find you here.”
“What if they follow our tracks?”
Clamshell scratched her head again. “Pesky lice. It took long enough to get to liking mice. Lice, though, there’s no way to make terms with them.”
Star Shell stiffened, suddenly feeling crawly all over.
Clamshell seemed not to have noticed. “Don’t you worry about tracks, child. The snow started again just after you got here. Any tracks are long buried. You don’t leave here, ain’t nobody going to know.”
An itch began to burn in Star Shell’s hair. “What about your family? Don’t they come out to see you?”
“Not while it’s snowing.” Clamshell chuckled to herself.
“I suppose they’d just as soon wait till spring. Each year they do that. I guess they’re hoping to find me all chewed down to bones. Won’t have to come up and plant my fields that way.
Won’t have to bring me part of their harvest every fall.”
Star Shell glanced around the little hut. The few pots were plain, undecorated. An old digging stick stood along one wall, its tip blunted. Several fabric sacks hung from the cross braces, most with holes in them.
“What do you do out here all winter?”
“Talk to the old dog over there, him and the mice, mostly.”
Clamshell scratched again. “That old dog,, he’s the last man in my life. And would you look at him? Just sleeps all the time.
Can hardly walk without hobbling, let alone break into a run.
But he listens.”
She smacked her lips. “And the mice listen real close—not like most people, who’ve got their souls clotted up with worries all the time. Mice listen to me like the men used to listen. Sometimes the mice fight—and I know they’re fighting over me. Just like the men used to do.”
Star Shell shifted uneasily; annoyed by the pride in the old woman’s voice. It didn’t seem the sort of thing to gloat over.
Clamshell snorted to herself. “No, mostly I sit and watch the fire. You can see things in fire. You got to learn to train your eyes, but you can see things. Mostly, you see the past. I’ve trained myself. Watched the fire for years to gain the sight. See?
You look in there now, and you can see Stone Wall. Yes, he’s just the way he was before I married him. Young, strong. Look at the expression on his face. Just like the time I put the water snake in his blankets.”
Star Shell leaned over—and saw only coals. Try as she might, she couldn’t make out any kind of picture. Then it dawned on her. “You … you said his name? And he’s dead? Don’t you worry—”
“About calling his ghost?” She waved it off. “I’ve been trying for years. I don’t think there’s anything to that. I’ve called out the names of all my dead lovers. They never come. No, they never do.” She seemed to drift off. “Let them haunt me. I wish they would. We could look into the fire and talk at night. Remember the old times.”
Star Shell glanced around nervously.
Clamshell said something under her breath, then tottered slowly to her feet. She winced painfully, straightening. “A person gets a little knotty out here.”
“Knotty?”
“Like an old tree. You know, filled with knots and bends.
Not like the old days. No … not at all. The men could have told you.”
Star Shell scratched at a new itch behind her ear. “How long have you had lice?”
“Hmm? Oh, lice. I don’t know. I used to make a point of husking black-walnut rinds. You know, mashing them and boiling everything in the juices. Got so I couldn’t hold the pestle and mash them anymore. Too much trouble. Turns all your fabric brown. Besides, lice aren’t very big. Just little bits of things, you know. They can’t eat much.”
Star Shell scratched at her side. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Clamshell glanced at her from the corner of her eye. “What’s in that pack the Magician’s carrying?”
Star Shell hesitated. “Some kind of sacred thing. I don’t know. Why?”