Rose pulled the last of the smoking fish off the rack and set them aside on the grass to cool before placing them in the deep pit they had dug to keep their food safe. Turning, she looked around at their campsite.
It had been transformed since they had staked their claim. Robert had made the journey to the nearest town, while Rose had stayed in camp, Tripper at her side. After he returned, claim documents in hand, they had set about preparing for the winter.
Each had taken turns traveling into town to purchase enough supplies to last, hauling things back not only on their backs but also on a travois made from the tent poles and an extra piece of canvas purchased in town. The travois was attached to the straps of the rucksack and dragged along the ground. It was hard, heavy work, but it got the job done.
Robert had also had success at his hunting, and Rose had helped him to prepare three caribou and a bear, meat, hides, and all, as well as migrating waterfowl and fish. Rose had continued to scour the area for roots, greens, and berries, and even now, as autumn progressed, she continued to travel the riverbank and tundra, searching for more roots before the ground froze, as well as seeds and late berries. They were well supplied for winter.
They had built their sod house about three hundred yards from the river, far enough away, they hoped, that it wouldn’t be flooded out in spring. They had cut blocks of sod from the ground, going down to the permafrost, and built four walls from them, one with a hole left for a door, around the area they had cut them from. More blocks of sod, caulked with dried grass and clay, sloped over the walls, forming a roof. Neither was particularly skilled at construction, so it had taken numerous tries before they could be fairly certain that the house would not fall in on them. The small, sloping house resembled nothing so much as a grass-covered cave, and was difficult to see at a distance, so well did it blend into the landscape. A hole had been dug in the roof near the back of the house to let out smoke from the fire, and was nearly the only indication that the house was there.
The door had been covered with the canvas from the tent, doubled up and stretched between the two tent poles after they had finished hauling supplies, and was secured with ropes when they wanted to keep it closed. The floor, originally the cold, hard permafrost, had been covered with a thick layer of sand from the river, and then softened with a covering of reeds and dried grass. Over this had been placed the canvas they had used to haul supplies as well as one of the caribou skins. An area at the back had been set aside for the fire with a wide area around it covered only in sand without any of the grass or reeds that could so easily catch fire. The cooking gear was arranged around it, as well as a pile of fuel in the corner—whatever dead wood they could find, dry grass for tinder, and dried caribou dung, which made a surprisingly clean fire.
Rose had balked at the idea of using it at first, but wood was hard to come by on the tundra, and they could easily deplete what few trees grew along the riverbank. Reluctantly, she had agreed, finally overcoming her revulsion at the stuff, and even helped Robert to collect it and pile it in another large pit near the house, along with whatever dead plant materials they could find.
They had moved all of their belongings into the house as the days shortened and grew colder. Their bed was close enough to the fire for warmth, but far enough away that it was safe. With the caribou hides under them, and both bedrolls and the bearskin over them, they didn’t really need much of a fire to keep warm while sleeping.
Along one wall were crudely made baskets and clay pots of dried food—meat, fish, berries, seeds—even one basket of dried greens and roots, which Rose wasn’t sure what she could do with, but she thought she might find a use. Their purchased supplies were there, too—two fifty-pound sacks of flour, sugar, coffee, bacon, beans, dried fruit, salt—as well as a sack of apples, a small sack of onions and one of carrots, a sack of potatoes, and ten cans of fruit, which they were saving for special occasions, whenever they might come up. The smoked meat, poultry, and fish were placed in two deep pits on either side of the house, lined with reeds, filled, and covered again with reeds and sod, then covered further with rocks to keep animals away.
Some of the blocks of sod that formed the house were uneven, forming small shelf-like spaces, and these too had been put to use, with small items such as matches, the bundles of willow sticks Rose had dried because she had read that they could be used like aspirin, a handful of candy sticks that Robert had surprised her with after one of his trips, and silverware placed on them. Their rucksacks had been converted to storage space for only their clothes and similar items that could not be stored elsewhere. They had far more than they had traveled in with, but they would not be taking most of it with them. The gold they had found was carefully hidden in various pits around the area, marked with bone stakes so that they would remember where it was, but where no one else would find it and steal it from them. Only a very small quantity was kept in the house in case they ever needed it.
Rose took the now-cooled fish from the grass, wrapped them in more grass, and set them in the pit, which was nearly full. One more empty pit was nearby, to be filled as soon as the weather stayed freezing. She replaced the sod and rocks, then stood up, stretching. The days were growing shorter, but they were still long enough to accomplish plenty.
She took the gold that she had panned earlier while the fish was smoking and dumped it into a small leather pouch, tucking it into her pocket. Gold, at least, was one thing they didn’t have to worry about the local wildlife trying to make off with. No wolf or grizzly bear would have any interest in gold. Only a human would find the metal particularly useful.
Patting her other pocket to make sure the handgun she always carried was still in there, she picked up the pan she used for foraging and set off along the trail that they had broken across the tundral grasses. The tundra was brightly colored, reds and browns blending in with what little green remained, reminding her of the fall colors in Philadelphia, except that here it was grass and brush instead of trees.
Walking along, Rose scanned the area for anything she might wanted to gather. They still marked their trails at times, but they had become so familiar with the area that it wasn’t necessary as long as they were within about two miles or so of their camp. Tripper ran along beside her, stopping to poke his nose into holes and chase small animals. Rose stopped, recognizing an edible plant, and dug up the root, while the dog watched her, trying to dig the spot further as she walked on.
Rose wandered in a wide area, searching for the last of the summer’s bounty. There wasn’t much left. She had exhausted many of the food plants in the area, and many more had been killed by frost, scattered by the wind, or eaten by animals. It took her about three hours to fill her pan, and by then it was late afternoon.
She looked up at the sky, pulling back the hood of her coat. It was around the middle of September, she estimated, and they had already had one light snowstorm that had soon melted, but winter was definitely on its way. The days were still slightly longer than the nights, but it wouldn’t be long before the days would grow shorter and finally vanish altogether with the coming of winter.
Setting the pan down, Rose turned her face toward the sunlight, soaking it up. She wasn’t looking forward to the long days of darkness, but it was one of the things that one had to tolerate this far north. Still, she wanted to get sunlight while she could.
Impulsively, she whirled around and ran a short ways, coming to a stop atop a tundral hillock. Throwing back her head, she lifted her face up to the sun and danced in a circle, her arms outstretched.
Despite her initial misgivings about coming here, she had grown to love the wilderness. There was a peace to the vast, endless tundra that she had never found in civilization, and she knew that when they returned to the states in the spring or summer she would miss this place. It had become her home.
Rose stretched her arms up towards the sky, smiling. She had found peace here, a healing from the troubles of the past, and she was glad she had come. The cold, rolling tundra, so forbidding to many, had become a place of life and hope for her.
Dropping her arms, she hurried back the way she had come, stopping to pick up her pan of roots and seeds before strolling back towards camp, her hood still thrown back, baring her face to the sun and wind.
She heard Robert calling her from camp and hurried to join him. He had caught a rabbit for their dinner, as well as, to Rose’s dismay, a fox that had been trying to break into one of the pits. They had no intention of eating the fox, although they knew that Tripper would probably take care of it in short order once it had been skinned, but this was the second animal that had tried to break in and not escaped. The bear had been the first.
Rose set her pan down, coming closer to view the fox and rabbit. Robert was already skinning the fox, preparing the skin for tanning, and Tripper dashed in, trying to help him. He shoved the dog away, laughing, then noticed the smile on Rose’s face.
"What is it?" he asked as she reached for the rabbit.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Whatever you’re so happy about."
"Nothing. Just...the sky is blue, the sun is shining, all is well with the world..."
He finished skinning the fox and tossed the remains to the dog, who grabbed the meat and ran around the side of the house to chew on it. "And you’re happy."
"Yes." She pulled the knife from the holder at her waistband and commenced skinning and gutting the rabbit.
When she had finished, Rose took the skins and the rabbit inside, intending to start dinner. Impulsively, she set them down beside the fireplace and came back outside, grabbing a surprised Robert by the hands and whirling around, giggling.
"Rose! What are you doing?"
"Dancing," she replied, stopping and stumbling, dizzy. She flopped down on the ground, pulling Robert with her. He started to get up, but she tugged on his arm, keeping him beside her. "I think dinner can wait."
"You think so?" he asked, abruptly rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him.
Rose laughed and bent her head down to kiss him. "Yes."
"Well, why don’t we...ah...delay dinner inside? I don’t know about you, but I think it’s getting pretty cold out here."
"Even with me as a blanket?" Rose asked, pretending to be insulted.
"You make a delightful blanket," he told her, watching her blush, "but this ground does not make a delightful bed. I think it’s starting to freeze."
"You mean the ground, or..." Rose laughed saucily, then got to her feet, darting towards the house.
"Hey! I’ll get you for that!"
"Catch me!" Rose called, pushing her way through the canvas door. Robert followed her, laughing.
He caught up with her inside the house, grabbing her and sending them both tumbling onto the bearskin covering their bed. Rose wrapped her arms around him, still laughing.
"Are you sure dinner can wait?" she teased after a moment.
Robert went to secure the canvas. "Dinner? What’s dinner?"