Chapter 7.2

Sara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Jim was in shock due to his injuries, and there was very little Herschel would be able to do to help him. Even with all the marvels of modern medicine, those types of injuries would have a low survival rate if they occurred in an isolated area like this forest. 

December 2, 1879

Jim woke up this morning and asked for fry bread. I have never been so happy to cook breakfast for someone in my life. I wasn’t sure he would make it through the night, and he did. He only took a few bites of bread, but he drank some broth and willow bark tea. He is back to sleep now, and he seems to be breathing a little better than he was last night. I don’t know, though, maybe it just sounded worse because of how quiet the night is.

Sara let out a sigh of relief. She knew that Jim making it through the night was a good thing. Yet, she also knew that it did not mean he would survive his injuries. 

She closed the journal and got up to make herself a cup of coffee. Sara turned off her camp stove and carefully dipped a cup of water from the bubbling pot.  Going back to the table, she spooned her instant coffee into the cup and absently stirred as she gazed at the journal.

That little book was turning into the most soul-crushing thing she had ever read in her life. As someone who loved tearjerker movies and books, none of them compared to the quaint, honest narration within the journal’s pages. 

Sara set her cup aside to cool as she picked up the journal again. She almost felt as if she needed to brace herself for what would come next. 

December 2, 1879

Second entry. I made some venison soup today for us for supper. I thought it would be something that Jim could eat. He only took a few bites of it like he did of his breakfast. Jim also took a few bites of fry bread we had left from breakfast. He also drank most of a cup of willow tea with his food. He seems to be making some progress. I hope that continues. I need him. He will never know how important he has become. 

December 2, 1879

Third entry. Jim slept for a while before waking and asking for water and more fry bread. It does my heart good that he can ask for water and food and that he wants it. Each time he wakes, he seems to be a little more comfortable than he had been earlier in the day.

I am beginning to worry more about the storm raging outside. The snow is already deeper than I have ever seen it, and it is still falling hard. It is halfway to the top of the door. If we need anything that is not in this cabin, we will have to do without.

I am struggling to keep the fire going as hot as it needs to be. Busting my shoulder was the worst thing I could have done with Jim being hurt the way he is. Lifting the larger pieces that I need to hold the fire in this storm is nearly impossible. I have to keep the chimney hot enough that the snow won’t cover it and stay. If it does, it will smother out the fire in the stove. That fire is what is going to get us through this.

Sara leaned back and sipped her coffee. She had been feeling sorry for herself about how bad things were for her. The conditions for Herschel and Jim were so much worse. She looked at the little cast-iron stove and thought about what it would be like to have her life depend on keeping a fire going in it. The thought of that sent another shiver down her spine. 

A sound near the shelves caught her attention once more. Sara sat quietly watching the shelves for any movement as a clue to what was making the noises. While she looked at the shelves, she caught sight of a person's silhouette walking beside her. Sara jerked her head to the side, where she was met with nothing.

“Nope,” she said as she stood and moved toward the door. “I need some fresh air. It has to be from the air quality. I must be hallucinating because of a build-up in carbon dioxide or carbon monoxide from my stove. Maybe I do have a head injury, and that is what is happening.”

Sara untied the door and slowly opened it, looking for the deer as she did. She wasn’t concerned about the buck out of fear. She was worried he would come inside the cabin and then refuse to leave. With no sign of the deer, she opened the door wide and took a deep breath of the rain-soaked air.

She had not realized how stuffy and stale the air in the cabin had become until now. Sara began to look for something to keep the deer out while still letting in the fresh air. A gust of wind blasted into her as she stood in the doorway so hard that it knocked her off balance. She stepped back inside, closed the door, then tied it shut again.

“So much for that idea,” Sara muttered. “Maybe after this line of storms passes.”

Sara went back to the table, taking a deep breath of the noticeably fresher air. She began to dig through her backpack until she found a bag of her favorite trail mix. She took a sip of her coffee and wrinkled her nose. It was cold, and the cup was almost empty. As much as she liked to drink coffee while she read, she opted not to make more as she went back to the journal in front of her.

December 3, 1879

Jim asked me to fry a venison steak and a potato for him for breakfast. He managed to eat about half of it before he tired out and had to stop. I got him to drink more water, broth, and willow tea, which seems to be helping him. 

He let me look at his leg today. It is bruised worse than I have ever seen on anybody before, but I don’t think he broke it. That is a load off both our minds. If he had broken it, he wouldn’t be able to walk out of here when he heals some, and I couldn’t have set it with my busted shoulder. 

His belly still looks like it has swelled up, and it is bruised along with his chest, back, and most of the rest of him. He says his head is still hurting but not like it was. He is not bleeding anymore from his head. That is another good sign and gives me hope that he might be on the mend.

I sit here looking at our food store, and I am a little worried. The deer we got was small, and we were counting on at least one of us being able to get out and hunt, even with the snow. The way this snow has piled up, I don’t know if I would be able to get out of the cabin and look for anything even if I was not hurt. Being hurt, I know there is no way to do it, and I know Jim cannot either. He can barely sit up enough to drink from a cup. It will take a long time before he can do much at all around here.

Sara leaned back in her chair. She looked at her pot of jambalaya she had cooked for the day and felt a pang of guilt. It was irrational, and she knew that, yet she felt it. Even if Sara ran out of food, she would be capable of getting more. It would mean she would be rained on while hiking back to her car. Herschel and Jim faced the prospect of starving to death if they could not get out of their cabin to hunt game. Even if the weather were not a factor, their injuries would make that impossible.

Sara tried to push the guilt out of her mind. The journal had been written well over a century before she was born. There was nothing that she could do to change anything. Not even her parents, grandparents, or great-grandparents could have helped the two men. She braced herself as she began to read again.

December 3, 1879

Second entry. Jim is not feeling very well now. He had a coughing fit, and now he is having trouble breathing. I did manage to get him to take a few bites of food and some sips of water and willow bark tea.

I am worn out. I get up several times during the night to tend to the fire and check on Jim. If that was not enough, my busted shoulder keeps me from sleeping when I should be. I don’t know if being tired can kill you, but if it can, that might be what takes me. I think I am going to lie down for a while and see if I can rest. 

Sara was feeling tired as well. While minor compared to the men she was reading about, her injuries were still painful and interrupted her sleep. She closed the journal and decided she would try to take a nap since she was having trouble keeping her eyes open as she read. The journal would have to wait.