Mattie only had one pair of trousers, which she wore very rarely because William said they were not decent. Despite this, he had conceded the occasional necessity of them, particularly when he needed her help with some strenuous chore.
It was much easier for Mattie to move without the weight of a skirt and two petticoats. Her legs felt lighter, freer when she wore her trousers. She felt light enough to fly.
(or run away)
Mattie hunched over the water basin and scrubbed the dishes, not looking at William. He’d definitely see “run away” on her face, even if it was only a passing thought. Even if she didn’t really mean it.
(although you sort of meant it you really did)
She had to quash these rebellious thoughts. They weren’t becoming of a good wife, and William reminded her constantly that her purpose was to be a good wife to him.
A short time later they were back in the woods. They moved up the mountain this time instead of down. William said there was a small meadow at a slightly higher elevation than their cabin, and at the edge of the meadow was a cliff face with several caves.
“I’ve seen big grizzlies go in and out of there sometimes,” he said. “And a bear as big as this one we’re after—there’s not a chance it’s going to dig out a den. It’s going to look for something ready-made. But you keep your eyes open just the same, Mattie girl. We might find he’s gone to ground somewhere else.”
Mattie didn’t understand why William was fixated on the creature, not really. He said it was because of their meat stores but that didn’t seem to be the actual reason. She didn’t think the vague way he wanted to go about finding it was very useful, either. Why didn’t they go back to the place where they found the tracks yesterday and start from there? It was so unlike William, who was normally very ordered and logical.
He’s afraid of something, she thought as she trudged along behind him. He’s afraid of something, but it isn’t this creature getting inside the storehouse or eating all the game.
Mattie stared at the back of his neck, trying to think on what it might be. She felt there was a clue in something he’d said the day before, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.
She was supposed to be his extra pair of eyes, in any case, and if she spent all her time looking at William’s back and thinking about yesterday then she wasn’t doing what he’d told her to do.
The woods were more pleasant today, less close, less silent and watchful. The sun emerged from the cloud cover and made the snow glitter a fierce and brilliant white. Birds darted between the trees, chittering and chattering their many thoughts to one another. Squirrels and chipmunks watched them pass from branches or from beneath bits of brush, tolerant of the bumbling humans in their midst.
Mattie didn’t think the creature (she didn’t know when she’d stopped thinking of it as a bear, but she was somehow sure that it wasn’t quite a bear, whatever William said) was anywhere nearby. The forest felt different than it had the day before. Now that she thought about it, the woods had felt that way from the moment she’d gone out to check the traps. It hadn’t been because of the fox, either. She’d been uneasy from the start, though she hadn’t recognized the feeling.
William walked without speaking, pausing only to inspect markings that meant nothing to Mattie—broken bits of twig, a disrupted bit of snow, a piece of cracked bark. None of these things appeared to be the work of the creature. The signs they’d seen the day before had been much more obvious.
Mattie sensed William’s increasing frustration and wished he hadn’t insisted that she accompany him. It would be her fault, somehow, if he didn’t find any sign of the animal.
After an hour or so they reached the meadow. It was about four times the size of the clearing in which they lived. Mattie imagined that in the summer it would be filled with the colorful bobbing heads of mountain flowers—aspen daisies and harebells and blanket flowers and golden banners. William had taught her the names of the flowers, and how to find edible herbs and berries.
She had a sudden memory of William leaning down to point out some columbine. She’d been very small when he did that. In her mind’s eye she could see her hand reaching out to stroke the petals, a little girl’s hand.
The field was brown now, all the flower petals blown away or dried up. Above the meadow was a sloped rock face, several openings dotting the cliff.
“That’s where it will be if it’s anywhere up here,” William said.
Mattie eyed the slope. It was very steep, and there was a great deal of loose scree. It looked dangerous—unnecessarily dangerous, since there was no sign this meadow had been crossed recently by anything larger than a rodent. And if there were bears bedding down for the winter up there, then it would be foolish, even treacherous, to go poking around. What was William thinking?
“If there are bears asleep up there—” Mattie began, but William cut her off.
“Think I don’t know there might be? We’re not going to wake them if there are. We’re only going to look around the entrance to see if any of the prints are like the one we saw yesterday.” His fist curled, but he didn’t raise it. “Don’t try telling me my business, Martha. Now stay close and keep quiet.”
Stay close and keep quiet.
Something twanged deep inside her brain—darkness, a rough hand over her mouth. A whisper. “Stay close and keep quiet.”
William realized she wasn’t following and turned around, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Mattie hurried after him before he could speak again, or remind her in another way that he’d given her an order and she was supposed
