|
A Company Dog
|
Young Jake Savage was more than a little nervous as he crept along the wilderness river bank. The 1807 forest crowded tight when he stopped to part thick pine boughs and look out into a small clearing. It was a trappers camp. Or what was left of one. Gear and tools were scattered everywhere. A white canvas tent lay torn and crumpled near the middle of the clearing, a birch bark canoe was turned over near the river. A single, thin stream of gray smoke rose up out of the middle of a fire ring made from river rocks. Farther back near the forest wall was a half built log cabin. There was an ax with its steel blade stuck into one of the many fresh pine stumps. This had been an active working camp, so what happened Jake wondered?
"A homestead?" the 17 year old woodsman said when he finally stepped out of the woods. "Someone hacked this clearing out by hand." He surveyed the mess. "Who or what did all this?" Jake whispered as he moved through the camp. He stopped short near the fallen tent when he made a gruesome discovery. There, still clinging a rifle in one hand and a fist in the other, was a man. A dead man. His face frozen in terror, his mouth agape, and his eyes still bulging wide with horror. There was a long bloody gash across his throat. His stomach was torn open and all of his intestines were gone.
"Ate," Jake whispered while choking back a growing nausea. "And it didn't happen very long ago. The birds ain't got his eyes yet and the fire is still smokin" By the look of the complete destruction, and the man's vicious wounds, Jake had a pretty good idea about the perpetrator. When he found a track in the sand next to the fire pit his suspicions were confirmed."Griz," Jake said with a gulp. The bear track was huge. He looked back at the dead man. "A mean one, too. I wonder where it is now?" His thoughts were interrupted by a mournful cry. It startled him. But it was the same cry he'd been hearing for miles down river and had eventually lead him here. He turned around and saw a ... "Dog!" Jake yelled as he moved to the rear of the camp.
It was a big brown brute with a dark mussel and a square face. It was in bad shape, he could tell that right away. Badly injured and covered partially with dirt.
Its hair was matted with dried blood and its hind quarters were buried in the soft, sandy soil. The bear had eaten its fill with the trapper and had mauled the dog and stashed it for another meal.
The dog raised its head when Jake approached and leaned close. The lad could read the agony, but also see a friendly gleam, in its sad, droopy eyes. Jake moved his hand closer and stroked its head. The big dog whined."That's okay Boy," Jake said. "You did just fine. That big ol bear ain't killed you yet."
The dog whined again and tried to move but could only muster a weak lick across Jake's hand "It's all right Boy," Jake repeated. "Jake Savage is here now. And I ain't never met a bear me and this ol' Hawken ain't been able to tame." Jake's words were drowned out by a roar coming from somewhere out in the woods. A chill moved across his shoulders. He stood up. Something was crashing through the woods toward him. His muscles coiled as a huge bear smashed out of the forest and into the open just 30 yards away.
Jake caught his breath. The monster growled, it was missing an ear and strings of bloody saliva hung down from its jowls. Its beady little eyes blazed with rage while it swayed from side to side. Panic washed over Jake as the beast stepped closer. This bear was not afraid of man, in fact it was a man eater and Jake knew he was in deep trouble. Jake gulped another breath and took a step backwards. The bear snarled loud and lunged closer. Jake tried to turn around but tripped over the Fire ring and sprawled on his back. The monster roared again and snapped its jaws. Brown, shaggy, silver tipped hair bristled across its back and a boulder size hump loomed up off its shoulders. The beast snarled again and ... charged! Jake barely had time to raise his rifle and fire!
The rifle shot roared through the quiet woods. The bear flinched and snarled, then stumble as Jake disappeared behind a cloud of smoke. He was too scared to move, to breath. But seconds later when the smoke cleared the carcass of the dead bear lay literally at his feet. Jake breathed out. The huge bear head and gaping jaws almost touched the soles of his moccasins. It had been a very close call.
Jake scrambled to his feet and reloaded the Hawken. "Too close," he whispered. "Way too close."
Once he was sure the brute was indeed dead Jake turned his attention back to the dog.
"You see that Boy?" Jake bent down and stroked the dog's head again. "That killer bear is crow food now. You win."
Jake put down his rifle and began brushing away the sand that partially buried the dog. He found a blanket and carefully moved the dog onto it. Then he dragged the semiconscious animal to the river's edge. He wet a cloth and dripped water into the silent dog's mouth. The healing had begun. With slow, painstaking care Jake cleaned the wounds using buckets of water and a gentle touch.
It took him several hours to finish washing the wounds out, and then another hour or so pulling a needle and sinew through the widest wounds in and along the animal’s ribs and neck. He always carried first aid and sewing supplies in his backpack. A woodsman never knew when he would have to stitch a shirt or a wound. Jake had doctored many animals while growing up at the logging camp and an Indian village named after the many dogs it contained. He was surprised that in spite of the pain this dog barely even whimpered. All the while he worked Jake whispered softly to his new friend.
Jake picked yarrow leaves, crumpled them so their juices ran and laid them across he dog's wounds. The leaves would help clot the blood and draw out infection. He wrapped cloth bandages across the leaves. Then Jake steeped willow bark into a strong tea and dripped that into the dog's mouth. This would help take the edge off the pain and soreness. He could worry about feeding it later.
While the dog was resting Jake snatched up a shovel and dug a grave. He wrapped the trapper's body in a blanket and buried him back by his cabin. After that it took Jake several hours to skin the bear. When these chores were finished he used sinew and a hook to catch bass from the river. He cooked the fish over his fire, then diced the meat into fine pieces and mixed it with flour he found among the trapper's belongings. It made a thick gravy that he spooned into the dog's mouth.
For three days Jake cared for the dog. He changed the bandages and dripped water and broth into its mouth. At night he lay close, holding and comforting the suffering animal while they slept. Each morning he half expected to wake up and find the dog dead. But always he was greeted by that friendly gleam in its half open eyes. It wasn't long before the big dog could raise its head, "woof" and wag its tail at will. In fact, it didn't take Jake long to realize that wagging its tail was what the dog did best. The big brown mutt was soon taking small pieces of meat and fish from the lad's hand and standing up to wag its tail."Well, then Boy" Jake said one evening. "Now that it looks like you're going to survive, I suppose it would be easier to give you a new name than to try to guess what your name really ..."
A squawking crow interrupted Jake's words. He turned and spotted the huge, bear carcass up in the old camp;. There were many crows fluttering about and many more covering the bear and pecking feverishly at the rotting flesh. Several eagles also joined in on the feast and the bird squawking went on all day."I reckon since it was you that come out on top in this fight," he said. "The least that old griz could give you is his name ... Bear!"
And so it was ...
It wasn't long after that Bear began to heal well enough to walk and was soon running and jumping close to Jake's heels everywhere the lad went. Which quite often these days was back and forth from his cabin to the logging camp and trading post.
Captain Jefferson Connors owned and operated the small but bustling operation.
He was more than just a neighbor to Jake. He was the man who raised Jake with the help of the nearby Ojibwa Indians, the last ten years after the lad's parents died in a forest fire. Jake was just seven years old at the time. The Captain was a good man. A decent man. And there was nothing he didn't know a lot about and that included dogs.
"That dog ain't but a wood chip this side of 150 pounds," the Captain said when Jake first brought Bear to camp and told the story. "That's how he survived the bear attack, big and strong." "Yeah well, he's those things all right," Jake said. "But he's got heart, too, and that helped him as much as anything."
It was true, Bear was very big. He had long floppy ears that flipped together over his head when he ran. His feet were the size of ax blades. But nothing could compare to the size of his heart. A fact Jake was experiencing more every day. Even so, and good natured notwithstanding, Jake figured the big dog must have some sort of training or skill for a trapper to bring it way out here in the woods. Because even though surviving off the land most of the year was no problem, come the dead of winter another mouth to feed, let alone a big dog mouth like Bear's, could get mighty old, mighty fast. Especially if one got stuck in the cabin by big snow. But Jake had figured wrong. No matter what he did or tried, when it came to work or even tricks, the dog just wouldn't respond. Bear wasn't a hunting dog that's for sure, unless you count running beneath the trees chasing red squirrels from one pine to the next, and he wasn't a pulling dog, as he ate the dog harness before he pulled in it, and he surely wasn't much of a watch dog. He never even barked when the Captain showed up at Jake's cabin one night "I see you still have your friend," the Captain said from Jake's front porch. "Have you figured out what he does yet? It's been two months." Jake lowered his head and kicked the ground in front of his porch. He knew why the Captain was asking. The older man was a no nonsense working man. He figured everyone in the crew had a purpose, a job to do whether they were a lead woodcutter, or a meat packer like Jake, or a big, hungry dog "Look me in the eye when I'm talkin' to you, Lad," the older man said. "A man will always look you in the eye. Anyway, at a loggin' camp, way out here in the woods, everyone has a job to do. Earn their keep. Pull their weight." Jake lifted his head and looked back at the Captain. But it wasn't easy keeping a straight face. He'd heard this speach before and knew it by heart.
"Well, I ain't exactly hit on what this big fella can do yet," Jake said scratching Bear's ears. "But he's smart and he just loves being with me. He's really a very good friend."
The Captain scoffed and spit.
"My Pa used to call them Company Dogs." The Captain's voice was harsh. "That's all they're good for is keeping company. They're the worst kind.
Jake wasn't really that worried about what the dog could or couldn't do. He figured after the bear incident the dog had earned tamer opponents, like squirrels and rabbits.
"It's up to you, Lad," the Captain said. "You're old enough to make the right choice when the time comes. Just don't come to me later lookin' for a bullet. If you know what I mean."
Jake understood all to well what the older man was saying and the lad discounted that option right away. The fact is, there were few things in life that he and the Captain didn’t agree on. But this was one of them. The older man had done a good job raising Jake. Taught him how to read and write and figure with numbers. He and the Captain read the bible for an hour every Sunday morning when Jake was still very young. There was no church of course out in the deep wilderness. But that didn't stop the Captain.
"We'll just use God's great green cathedral," the Captain was fond of saying.
"These here woods is the best church there is and we're grateful for them."
It was the Captain who staked Jake to his first trap line and the log cabin where he lived now. Jake owed the man a lot, his life even, and he figured that, agree with him or not, the least he could do was listen when the Captain had something to say.
There was something else Jake understood about the Captain. The older man never took time for himself. Never stopped to take in the beauty of the forest and life surrounding him. Never understood that pine trees offered more to him than a few cents per board foot. That lightning flashing across a night sky was something more than an indication of an approaching storm. That it was nature’s own art, beauty and power in motion. Or that a big, old, friendly dog has much value, even if it isn't fetching game or guarding the hen house. Jake just plain liked having Bear around. He was already like an old friend.
"Oh I'm sure he's good for something," Jake said without talking his eyes off the dog who was now chasing butterflies. "I reckon I got time to find out what he's best at."
Then Jake turned and faced the Captain straight on. "What brings you out her tonight, Captain?" Jake asked.
For just a second the older man was also preoccupied by the dog's antics.
Jake couldn't help but notice the hint of a smile on the Captain's face.
"Oh yes," the Captain said abruptly.
"There's a stretch of timber way up river ten miles or so," he said referring to the Namekagon River. It's owned by a settler named Simons. He come through here in a canoe last fall. His cabin is right on he water. I need you to go up and count timber for me."
The Captain had long since taught Jake how to count, cut, haul, handle, and estimate the value of timber.
"See if it's worth me splitting half the crew next winter to send up there," the Captain said. "If it's worth it I'll give you silver so you can pay them on the spot."
Jake was happy to go. Not just to help the Captain out, but a trip deeper into the woods would be a great adventure and the dog would love it, too. I'll leave in the morning," Jake said.
The sun had barely begun to brighten the eastern pine tops the next morning when Jake stepped out on his cabin porch and pulled on his backpack. He snatched up his .50 caliber Hawken rifle and paused to look at the dog.
"You're gonna have a whole bunch of new squirrels to chase along the way,"
Jake said to Bear with a laugh. "Course you'll probably never catch one because you're a Company Dog, and they're the worst kind."
Jake laughed out loud and figured, at least on the inside, the dog was laughing too.
The hike upstream took them three days. Jake could have made it in two but he spent most of one day snipping the ends off and pulling porcupine quills out of Bear's mouth, tongue, throat, and nose. It wasn't an easy job either. No matter how good natured and easy going a dog may be, he just won't sit still and let you pull the quills out. It's always a fight. Or more appropriate a wrestling match. But Jake had experience with the many logging camp dogs and had his own methods. He lay the dog down on a blanket and wrapped the blanket tight around the dog's body and legs. He covered everything tight but the head. He put a stick in the dog's mouth so it couldn't bite down on his hand or the quills. In Bear's case Jake sat heavy on the dog's shoulder. Bear wasn't going or moving anywhere. He used his sharp knife to cut the end off each hollow quill before pulling it.
"Ain't that just your bad luck," Jake said after he'd removed the last quill and unwrapped the suffering dog. "You finally find something you can catch and bite, and it bites you back."
Jake reached down and scratched Bear's ears. Then he hugged the big dog's neck. He already loved the big likable mutt It was a good hike through the deep forest. Jake and Bear ran and jumped and played all along the way. There were squirrels to chase and bucks to scout along the way. And though this was a mission for the Captain it sure didn't seem like work. Maybe that's the secret Jake thought.
It was late afternoon the third day when they strolled into a small clearing on the river bank. Near the back along the forest wall was the Simons' cabin. Jake and Bear walked halfway across the clearing in front of the cabin when the door flung open and a young boy of about ten years old, with mop of wavy red hair, burst from the darkness inside.
"A dog! A dog!" He shouted as he ran toward them.
Bear was the first to react. He gave one of his little woofs and leaped into a charge toward the boy. "Bear!" Jake called. The dog streaked for the boy. Jake froze with uncertainty. He wasn't sure how Bear would react. The little boy kept coming and there was no stopping the dog. They met with a leap, a yip, and a shout. The little boy began petting and patting Bear's head. Bear licked the lad's face like he were meeting an old friend.
Then the boy threw his arms around the big dogs neck and hugged him.
"A dog. Wow! He's a real brute." The lad could barely contain his enthusiasm. "What kinda dog is he? I bet he's a bear dog. Hey, ain't that what you called him?
"Bear? Does he kill bears or even bobcats? We got lots of bears and bobcats about."
"Do you think he could kill a cougar? Ma saw a cougar down by the river last week"
She's kept me cooped up inside the cabin ever since.
A woman in her early thirties, with long auburn hair hanging down across her shoulders came out onto the porch to greet Jake. She was wearing a long blue dress cinched tight around her narrow waist and was drying her hands on a towel.
Her smile was pleasant.
"Good afternoon, Ma'am, Jake said with a little wave. "Would this be the Simon's place?"
It was the right homestead. Jake introduced himself and Bear. He explained it would take him three days to finish the count. In the meantime he wondered if he and the dog could bunk in the little log barn."I'll have no such thing," Mrs. Simons said. "There's plenty of room in front of our fireplace for you and your dog. But first things first. You could probably use something warm and filling for supper."
Jake smiled and nodded. He'd eaten mostly venison jerky, sourdough biscuits, and wild berries, nothing hot or cooked, for three days. About now he'd eat a moccasin if it was hot with gravy poured over it.
"My name is Rebecca," Mrs. Simons said as she extended her hand and shook Jakes. "And this is my son Jim. Now please, come in. The biscuits on the table are still warm" Bear and Jim stayed outside to chase squirrels. Jake removed his backpack and stepped into the cabin. It was pretty much like most backwoods cabins. Made of logs, small in size, just one room, which made it easier to heat with a fireplace in the winter. The furnishings were sparse. There were wooden bunks attached to the walls and a blanket partitioning off one corner to provide some privacy within the log walls. There was a square wooden table and three wooden chairs. All the cooking was done in the fireplace. And now the luscious aroma of cooked food overwhelmed Jake. He sat down at the table."Will Mr. Simons be back for supper?" Jake asked.
Rebecca served him a bowl of thick, steaming fish chowder and a venison steak on a plate. She filled a cup with hot coffee and another with fresh goat's milk and served them both to Jake.
"Oh, I doubt he'll be back for supper," she answered through clenched teeth."Least-wise not this supper.""My husband went off down river on business several months ago," she said over her shoulder. The joy had left her voice. "He might be dead. But more likely he's cattin' around down in St. Louis or some other town with an abundance of saloons and floozies. I doubt he'll be home for any supper anytime soon."
Jake dropped the subject and no more was said about it. He and Bear slept in front of the fireplace after darkness came to the big woods and the candle was blown out; they lay quietly and listened to the occasional snap from the dying fire and the gentle sobs coming from Jim's bunk. It was tough losing a parent.
Jake knew that first hand. And it was always hardest at night when you were alone with your thoughts and fears. Time, Jake knew would help the healing most.
Lots of time.
At least when Jake was growing up, he had the company of people in the logging camp and trading post. He had friends at the nearby Ojibwa village. There were always pets around. Dogs, cats, raccoons, and for a little while even a young bobcat. But when it began eating the other pets the Captain ran it off out into the woods. But this boy Jim, living out here on the river in the deep, deep woods didn't have any of those. Jake figured it must be extra hard for the boy.
Dawn found Jake on the porch ready for the day's work. Bear was there as usual waiting to do his thing. After breakfast Rebecca made Jake a biscuit, venison and honey sandwich for lunch to carry in his pack. There was a hunk of goat cheese she made from what little extra milk they had from two nanny goats, and two hard boiled eggs from a coop of six laying hens and a small flock of fryers. I'll be back at sundown," Jake said. "It won't be long and then me and the dog will be out of your hair. Thanks for the lunch." Jake turned and started for the woods.
"C'mon," he said to Bear and patted his leg.
The big dog leaped off the cabin porch and streaked toward him."Hold on for just a second," Jim's shout from the cabin porch stopped Jake in his tracks. "Do you think maybe, I mean, do you think, that maybe, maybe Bear wants a day off?"
Jim jumped off the step and ran over to Jake."There's a whole nest of grass snakes in the brush pile behind the barn," he said. "And rabbits yonder in the goat meadow. I'd take good care of him and everything."
Jake wasn't sure. He'd gotten used to having the dog at his side. Of course, Jake thought, Bear loved chasing rabbits almost as much as chasing squirrels."I suppose it would be all right," Jake said. He wasn't sure why he changed his mind. "; If'n it's all right with Bear that is."
The big dog gave a little yip. Jim ran off and called his name. Before Jake knew it, the two had disappeared around the corner of the cabin and were gone."You stay clear of the river," Rebecca called after Jim. "The current is high and strong this time of year.""He's a real handful sometimes, that boy," she said turning to face Jake."Maybe the dog will keep him out of trouble and tire him out."
Jake hitched up his pack and smiled."Don't count on it Ma'am, "Jake said. "He's a company dog. Nothin' else.
Cap'n says they're the worst kind.
Then with a smile on his face he turned and melted into the woods. Jake spent the next few days counting trees. Back at the homestead. Jim and Bear filled up those days, too. They ran from one end of the woods to the other. They chased rabbits and squirrels. They chased woodchucks, grasshoppers, birds, and even clouds in the sky. And when they couldn't find anything else to chase, they chased each other. The two new friends were happy and inseparable.
The mood was different though, on Jake's last night. The happy little boy didn't have the same enthusiastic smile he had the previous nights. Jake noticed.
Jim frowns and bowed head.
"And what in the name of all these big woods could spawn such a long face as the one hangin' off your chin?" Jake asked as he fluffed the young boys thick red hair. "The last two nights you were happy to see me. Have you and Bear been havin' fun and stayin' out of trouble?"
Jim kicked the ground. He looked down, avoiding Jake's stare."You're leavin; " Jim's voice was barely a whisper. "You're leavin' tomorrow and takin' Bear with you. Ain't you?"
Now a frown drained down Jake's face, too."My job here is done," Jake said. I'll pay your Ma for the timber tonight and.."
Jake stopped when he saw the tear roll down Jim's face. He knew how the lad felt. He'd lost a good deal in his life, too. The Captain always told him that loss is part of life and he'd better get used to it. That's the part that bothered Jake. He might learn to live with loss, but he doubted if he'd ever get used to it.
"I'll tell you what," Jake said stooping down and using an index finger under Jim's chin to gently lift the lad's head. "Always look a body in the eye when you're talkin' to them. But I don't have to leave right away. I'll just sort of drag my feet and hang around most of the day tomorrow."
It wasn't exactly what Jim hoped for, prayed for, but it was something. The smile grew across his face, he reached out and hugged Bear around the neck. The big dog yipped a happy little bark and the two turned and dashed away from Jake and down to the river's edge.
Jake smiled and retreated to the cabin where Rebecca was making supper.
She was happy for the money Jake was able to pay her in advance for the timber.
Jake sat at the table, he sipped coffee from a tin cup and watched her put dinner together."That boy of yours is sure fond of the dog," Jake said. "Maybe you should think about getting him a pup. The Ojibwa camp down river always has plenty of puppies." Rebecca smiled and set a plate heaped with steaming food in front of Jake.
"That would be nice,"she said.
Meanwhile, Jim and Bear walked quietly along the river's edge. Jim was catching frogs, naming them before putting them in his pocket while Bear was just eating the frogs he caught.
When Jim wasn't frogging, he was chucking rocks out toward midstream or using a long stick as a rifle and shooting imaginary ducks in the air or across the river. They soon came to a wide moss covered log extending out into the current. On the very end lay a mud turtle happily sunning itself in the last few rays of afternoon sun. Jim crawled onto the log and began inching his way out toward the turtle.
At the same time Bear spotted a rabbit on the river bank and gave chase. He disappeared into the woods on the run.
Jim moved out along the log with his knees bent and his arms held straight out to his sides for balance. Closer and closer he crept to the unsuspecting turtle.
Then, just when his out stretched hand was about to grab it, the turtle slipped off the log. Jim lunged as it disappeared into the deep, tea stained water.
He missed ... then waved his arms wildly as he tried to regain his balance. But his head was stuck out too far over the end of the log. He tried to grab a hold of the slippery log. But he couldn't get a grip and couldn't stop his momentum. He yelled out his distress and ... Splash!
Rebecca and Jake both heard the frightened shout."Jim!" She yelled."The river," Jake said as he jumped up from the table and bolted through the door.
"Jim ... Jim!" Jake called as he ran for the river."Jim ... Jim, oh Jim!" Rebecca's tone was panicked. She was already beside herself with fear. "JIM!"
When Jake got to the river he began walking slowly along the edge, scanning for some sign of the boy."There he is," Jake shouted. "Near the middle."
Jake pointed to the little boy whose head barely bobbed up out of the strong current. The young woodsman dashed fifty yards downstream through the forest.
It was thick woods and sticks and branches poked and scratched him. Raspberry brambles tore into his buckskin leggings and cut his skin. But he had to keep going he had to get ahead of the drifting boy. So far Jim was managing to keep his head above the water, but the current was taking him farther away. And even from the opposite bank Jake could see terror in the lad's eyes.
Jake knew he had to hurry and he turned, took several long running strides, and dove out through hanging tree branches and into the swift current. He used every ounce of strength his young body could generate to swim through the current. He had to hurry and feared Jim was ready to ..."He went under," Jake shouted when he surfaced near midstream and couldn't see the boy. "Can you see him?"
Rebecca had been tracing Jakes steps along the bank. Her arms were bleeding from many scratches and her dress was torn in several places"No ... No!" She shouted. Her anxious voice echoed along the river course.
"Where did he go?" Jake made it across in just seconds, but Jim was nowhere in sight. Jake dunked under and searched through the dark water. He prayed he was downstream far enough to catch the boys body as it tumbled past. But it was difficult to see under the dark water. He could barely make out the shadows of boulders and sunken logs on the bottom. He surfaced after a minute."Do you see him?" Jake shouted from the water.
Rebecca was in complete hysteria on the opposite river bank."No!" It was her only, and final word.
"Jim," Jake shouted "Jim, oh Jim, where did you go?"
And then under his breath so Rebecca couldn't hear him he said, "What have you done?"
Jake ducked under again as the river surged past. The water was cold and the strong current was trying to sweep him downstream, too. He held his position by bracing against a boulder on the bottom. But he came up empty again. Rebecca was sobbing uncontrollably on the bank. Jake searched across the surface hoping for some sign of the boy. The seconds ticked by. A horrible, sickening feeling began to well up in Jake's stomach. His dear friend the river, had so quickly turned into a deadly enemy. He couldn't see the lad and didn't know what to do.
That's when a loud, robust bark echoed out of the woods and boomed across the water. Jake looked up to see Bear streak from the trees and leap out into the water.
Bear splashed hard into the slack surface, though his head never went under the water. He never stopped moving as his legs churned through the water. The big dog crossed the river in seconds and moved some twenty yards downstream from Jake. He made it to the edge of a deep water hole near the far river bank and swam in circles. Once around, twice, and ...
Halfway through the third circle Bear stuck his head under the water. Jake watched and waited. Then the dog's whole body disappeared under the surface.
Rebecca stared from the opposite bank, her hands cupped over her mouth and nose. Tears streamed down her face. Jake could feel the panic now. Feel the nausea tumble in his stomach. He'd seen dead men before, but never a drowned.... but then Bear splashed up through the surface. Water poured off his head while he held tight to the shirt collar of the terrified young boy choking water and crying."JIM!" Both Jake and Rebecca shouted at the same time.
Jake made his way downstream to Bear and scooped the lad out of the water.
He looked into the young face. Jim's eyes were wide open. His panic still very real.
Water spurted from his mouth as he continued to cough and choke."You gave us quite a fright there, Jim Boy." Jake's voice was filled with joy as he patted the boy on the back. He was overwhelmed with relief and pulled Jim to him. He hugged the scared little boy. He’d developed quite a brotherly affection for the lad in the last few days. He closed his eyes and gave silent thanks to the Almighty. What would he have done without ... "Bear ... Bear," Jake shouted. "Good Boy ... Bear!" Jake waded across the river and carried Jim while Bear swam next to him.
"Now that you're safe," Jake said as he handed Jim to Rebecca up on the bank. If anything she was sobbing more now than before. She pulled Jim to her and hugged him close.
"What the heck were you doin' out in the river when you can't swim? Why?"
Jim hugged his mother around the neck harder then ever before. Then he turned to face Jake."I missed the turtle," he said. "You know how it is." Jake's mind flashed back to a time when he was only ten. Of the many wondrous times he had along this very same wilderness river. He did know how it was. Back at the cabin, Jim changed out of his wet clothes and he and Bear disappeared out the door and into the woods behind the cabin."If you don't do another thing this whole summer, Ma'am," Jake said. "Teach that boy how to swim. No, I'll teach ... No, I'll even go you one better than that..."
Rebecca nodded. Teaching Jim to swim was one of the things she'd always figured the boy's father would do. But that would change now. She knew she had to quit waiting for that lout to come back. She would finally put him and the past out of her mind and out of her life. It was up to her to take care of herself and Jim and to do a good job of it. She was surprised at the great sense of relief that now washed over her. She had closure."But until he does learn how to swim," Jake said, his voice cracking slightly.
The Captain had been right after all. When the time came, Jake knew what to do.
Think it's best I leave Bear here to look after both of you.
At first Rebecca didn't know what to think, or say. It was so unexpected. It was such a gracious, loving gift especially from someone they hardly knew. Finally she smiled. Her whole face lit up as she crossed the small room and hugged Jake."Thank you," she said. "Thank you for everything." Jake smiled, too. Then having made the decision to leave Bear he knew he couldn't hang around another minute for fear he'd change his mind. He gathered his gear, snatched up his rifle, said his good-bye to Rebecca and went out the door. He was all the way across the compound clearing when Jim appeared at his mother's side. The lad called to Jake and raced after him. Bear, as usual, ran at the boy's heels."Jake ... Jake," Jim called "Are you leavin'?"
He ran up to Jake."Ma told me about you leavin' Bear with us," Jim said, a smile crossed his face. "Thanks, thanks a lot. But ... but you never told me what kind of dog he is."
Jake looked down at Jim, then stooped down and gave Bear a final loving hug around the neck."He's a Company Dog," Jake said. "And they're the best kind."
Author John A. Hallock lives in a log house in the back woods of northwest Wisconsin with his wife Lori, daughters Kate and Maggie, a pack of dogs, two cats, and never a dull moment. The Woodsman Magazine
Return from A Company Dog to the Woodsman Magazine page.
