CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the early morning of the third day, they broke camp, and to Sharon this was good since the snow was still crusted over from the extreme drop in temperature at night. In these last few days, she had observed the severe differences between the day and the nighttime temperatures and what effect this had on the snow-covered landscape.
Indeed, as soon as the sun rose in the morning, both it and the warm chinook winds caused the snow to melt throughout the day. Yet, because the temperature dropped sharply as soon as the sun set, the water on top of the snow hardened into a crust several inches thick, covering over the snow below it. The hard crust also held their weight, yet it wasn't so slick as to cause them to fall. Indeed, if they were to travel in the evening hours instead of the daylight, the crust on top of the snow could make their trek a little easier and a little faster. Plus, it was almost impossible to track someone over this crust.
Sharon was warming to her observations when she caught sight of Strikes Fast on the other side of camp and paced toward him to communicate her thoughts on the matter.
However, in response to her remarks, Strikes Fast signed, "It would be too hard on our animals because they are too heavy to walk on the top of the snow. Day is still best. The snow is wet then, making it easier on our ponies, and, in turn, easier on us, too. Our ponies will leave a trail, it is true. But, it will be my task to go back over it and erase our tracks, if I can."
Sharon nodded. Of course. Why hadn't she realized this?
Smiling at her, Strikes Fast bent over at the waist and gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek. Signing, he said, "The boy and I will need to erase all signs of our camp so that any enemy coming upon it will not be aware of where we camped."
"Is this important?" she asked in English.
His reply was in English also, and he said, "Important…very."
"Could I help you with it?"
He shook his head and signed, "It must look as nature has always intended it to be. To do this is a skill one must learn."
"Oh," she said. Then, "What do you need me to do?"
"Nothing," he signed. "The boy and I will—"
"I need to do something to help us to leave here," she said, interrupting him.
He nodded, then signed, "Good. Perhaps you might ensure all our food is packed and tied down upon your pony. Do you know how this is done?"
"I…I, yes, I know how to do it. When we moved the Pikuni camp, your sister showed me how it is done," she said in English.
"You need…help, no?"
"I think I can do it. After all, I watched your sister pack up all our belongings, and she showed me what to do."
He gave her a brief nod and turned away, striding toward the place where their tiny lodge had once stood and where Rising Bear was engaged in sweeping the ground with a pine branch, erasing any evidence of their camp.
All their food items—the dried meat, dried roots and a few dried berries—were already packed, Sharon having yesterday placed the food inside the Indian's waterproof parfleche bags. At least this she had learned to do from Strikes Fast's sister, Little Dove. These rawhide bags—which looked a little like large envelopes—were extremely durable and were about fourteen inches by twenty-four inches in size. They were also painted in different designs, but only upon the flap of the bag. But, best of all, these parfleches expanded easily in order to fit more items than they appeared to be able to hold.
However, what Sharon hadn't been taught and didn't know how to do was to properly secure them onto a pony. And, although she would be packing her own mount, she was a little shy of placing herself beneath the belly of the horse. And, it seemed this might be the only way to properly tie the bags onto her pony. True, she had learned how to fasten their supplies onto a travois when moving camp, but not onto the animal itself.
Briefly she gazed at Strikes Fast and considered asking him how it was best done, but, when she saw he and Rising Bear were hurriedly and single-mindedly breaking down their camp, she decided against it. In the end, she resolved to pack the horse herself. After all, it couldn't be too hard to accomplish the chore without help. Indian women were expected to do it without aid, and she was now an Indian man's woman.
Obviously Strikes Fast expected her to be able to accomplish this on her own, and, because of this, she determined she would show him she could do the task as well as his sister, Little Dove.
Straightaway, she realized a problem. Although she had often saddled her horse and knew well how it was done, she puzzled over how to actually bind the parfleche bags onto the horse so they would stay put and wouldn't move about. Clearly, she would have to fasten them so they barely moved, which would require several yards of rope. What the Indians used as rope was good and sturdy, being made mostly of strong rawhide, if only she had some.
Glancing around the camp, she noticed that most of the rope they had available, as far as she could see, was used as halters and reins for the horses. Surely, there was other rope she could use.
Taking another quick scan of their possessions as they were laid out over the snow, she saw no rope. Yet, it had to be here. There was no other way of strapping the bags onto the horse.
Sharon glanced up and was about to call out to her husband, when she noticed he was already approaching her. And, in his hands were several long, yet different lengths of rope; they were perfect, each being about an inch in width and several feet long.
Stepping right up to her, he handed her the ropes while he bent over to place a kiss on her forehead. He said, "These…might need."
"Yes," she responded. "I was only now looking for them. Thank you for bringing these to me."
He smiled, then leaned down again and kissed the top of her head before he turned to leave.
