anything had fallen out. “I reckon you’re right.”
“Is this your way of saying my idea was a waste of time?”
“Not at all. Just last night I looked out my window and saw six rattlesnakes roll themselves into hoops and have a contest to see which of them could roll the farthest.”
“You are a strange man.”
Shakespeare put a hand to his chest as might an actor in a play. “I am giddy,” he quoted. “Expectation whirls me around. The imaginary relish is so sweet that it enchants my sense.”
“You have some?” Nate said.
About to go on, Shakespeare cocked his head. “Eh? I have some what? Snakes?”
“Sense.”
“Oh my. A palpable hit. Yes, that is worthy of my illustrious wife, who delights in sinking her verbal claws into my innocent flesh.”
“Anyone would,” Nate said.
“Ouch. Twice pricked,” Shakespeare said indignantly. “I never realized how grumpy snake hunting makes some people.”
Nate came to an old log and rolled it over. Nothing was under it. “I’m surprised we haven’t found any.”
“It could be there aren’t any to be found. Or it could be they heard about your hunt and are lying up in fear somewhere.”
“There must be a den,” Nate said.
“Figured that out, did you?”
“Have you ever seen one? As old as you are, I bet you have.”
“As old as…” Shakespeare stopped and puffed out his cheeks. “Were I a mongoose, I would bite you. I have never seen a snake den, no. I did have a friend who did, during the beaver days. His name was Franklyn. He kept seeing garter snakes go down this hole. His curiosity got the better of him and he dug at the hole until he found out why the garters were going down it.”
Nate waited.
“According to Franklyn, he found a huge ball of them. Must have been hundreds. This was in the fall when they hole up for the cold weather.”
“Hundreds?” Nate said.
“So Franklyn claimed. I had no cause to doubt him. He was a good man. Had a wife and a little one back home. Thought he’d save enough trapping beaver to give them a boost up in life.”
“Was he good at it?” Nate had known men who tried their best but never were any good at skinning and curing.
“Very good, yes. He had about two thousand dollars on him the day the Blackfeet got him. Me and some others tracked them and found Franklyn in a clearing in the woods. They had staked him out and amused themselves chopping off his fingers and toes and ears. They’d cut his belly, too, and his guts were hanging out. He begged one of us to put him out of his misery.”
“Let me guess. You did.”
Shakespeare shrugged. “I never could stand to see anyone suffer. I made sure the money got to his family along with a note saying how he always talked about how much he cared for them.” His features saddened. “The wife wrote me back. Thanked me for being so considerate and asked if I was in the market for a woman.”
“She didn’t.”
“Not out plain, but it was there between the lines. Can’t blame her, I guess. It would be hard raising children alone.”
Nate stopped and placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the stretch of shore they had covered. “I reckon I was worried over nothing. There aren’t all that many rattlesnakes around, after all.”
“Better safe than bit.”
“You’re standing up for me? I figured you would poke fun from now until Christmas.”
“Let’s further think of this,” Shakespeare quoted. “Weigh what convenience both of time and means may fit us to our shape if this should fail, and our drift look through our bad performance.”
Nate shook his head. “I’ve put everyone to a lot of bother for nothing. It was coincidence, nothing more, those rattlers appearing so close together.”
“If it had been two grizzlies or two mountain lions you’d have the same cause for concern.”
“You can come right out and say when I’m wrong. I’m a grown man. I can take it.”
“Oh, all right.” Shakespeare quoted the Bard, “In the reproof of chance lies the true proof of men.” He chuckled. “How’s that?”
“You call that being hard on me?”
“Later I’ll beat you with a switch if it will make you feel better.”
“I’ve inconvenienced everyone.”
Shakespeare put his hand to his chest again. “A true knight, not yet mature, yet matchless, firm in word, speaking in deeds and deedless in his tongue, not soon provoked nor being provoked, soon calmed. His heart and hand both open and both free.”
“I’m no saint,” Nate said gruffly.
“You’re human. We all are. And as humans go, you are one of the few I have admired with all that I am.”
“Why are you talking like this?”
“You never know,” Shakespeare said.
Nate had a thought that troubled him. “This has something to do with your age, doesn’t it? All you’ve done lately is talk about how old you are and how you don’t feel as spry as you used to.”
“I don’t.”
“Good God. You’re over eighty. How spry do you think you should be?”
Shakespeare placed his hand on Nate’s shoulder and said earnestly, “I’m preparing you, is all.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“No.”
“You sick?”
“No.”
“Have a disease of some kind?”
“No.”
“Then why, for God sake?”
“I’m old, Nate.
“It might not happen for years yet.”
Shakespeare shook his head. “I look at myself in the mirror every day and I know what I see.” He sighed and raised his face to the vault of sky, then gazed at the lake. “I have no complaints. I’ve had a good life.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous. You act as if you have one foot in the grave when you’ve just admitted that you are as healthy as can be.”
“Why doesn’t anyone listen anymore?” Shakespeare said sadly. “My wife is denying my age just like you.”
“I’ll have Blue Water Woman and you over for supper tomorrow night and we’ll talk some more.”
“We’ll be happy to come over, but I’ll be damned if I’ll be the topic. What I’ve just said to you goes no further than right here.”
Nate grinned. “You just don’t want Blue Water Woman upset with you.”
“No. I don’t want her upset, period. I love that woman, and talking about me dying would hurt her.”
“You have my word,” Nate said.
Winona looked up and saw her husband and McNair talking. “I thought we were hunting for snakes. Look at those two.”
