Chapter 25

The weather remained cold for four days, then a warming trend set in. I didn’t expect it to last.

The freezing temperatures were followed by winds. While it was never quite strong enough to strip limbs from the trees, the cold northwest blast was quite able to finish dropping the leaves from the deciduous trees. One day, the leaves had been green but turning to red or yellow and then they began falling like colorful snow.

The colors soon faded to brown and the remnants of summer piled up wherever something slowed the wind. Trees built up a layer of dead leaves underneath, nourishment to be recycled in the spring. The piles grew higher where the winds swirled around the trunks. A few pines and cedars retained their color, green islands in a world turned mostly brown.

“Ok, folks.” I said. “The winter got here earlier than I hoped, so now we do what we can while we can. There are likely glaciers north of here; in the world I came from, it took centuries before the main icecap melted and longer than that before the last low-altitude glaciers disappeared. I don’t know of any reason why it would be different here.

“The usual weather pattern where I lived back then ran northwest to southeast. Storms built up off the west coast of Alaska, then traveled south before turning eastward. Here, the weather patterns will likely avoid the glaciers, because the cold air above the ice-fields will sink. That sinking air creates a high-pressure area similar to a polar high, but now I expect it to be displaced to somewhere around the 40th parallel. That’s where I think we are, about where Oklahoma is located in the time I came from.

“High pressure circulates clockwise in the northern hemisphere and creates relatively stable weather, so whatever pattern comes in is likely to stay around a while. It’s the low-pressure zones that create storms, especially when they run into a cold front. I conclude from all this that it’s going to be cold here, and moisture from the Gulf will drop around here as rain or snow. Lilia, do you have any experience of weather near here?”

“Matt, I can’t tell. Some years were really cold and sometimes we got a lot of snow even when it wasn’t as cold. A couple of times we got cold and snow both, so we never got used to it. My husband always stocked as much food and firewood as possible and it lasted until spring, though sometimes we had to ration supplies in late winter.”

“I understand his thinking,” I said. “That’s why I’ve been pushing so hard to stockpile things. Do we have enough? I just don’t know. If we aren’t ready, and maybe even if we are, it’s going to be a miserable few months. The good news is that we’ve got more than enough stored food to feed us and keep us warm if we were living in the timeline I came from. Here? We may get pretty cold, hungry too, before spring gets here. We can at least gather more wood whenever the weather permits, because the trees aren’t going anywhere, but food supplies will be critical. We depend on animals for meat, and they may hibernate where we can’t find them or migrate south in search of graze. If the big animals do move, the predators will follow them. It’s a silver lining to our dark cloud.”

Hunting became more difficult. Animals sought warmer places to sleep, and often these were on hilltops. The cold air from even slight elevations flowed downhill and pooled in the lowlands along the streams so hunting rapidly became an exercise in climbing. When we did manage to bag something, the coats were much thicker than what we’d seen before. Long guard hairs covered heavy growths of insulating fur next to the skin. Animals lacking that thick undercoat had already migrated south.

Fires in the fireplace were larger now for heating the cabin, although we still relied on the coals for cooking. We could let the fire die back slightly and rake the coals to where we wanted them, feeding in sticks of wood as necessary. Laz, Lee, and I brought in wood every time we went outside. Not all of it was seasoned yet, but I knew a way around that.

When I brought in firewood, I mixed earlier-cut dry wood with wood from stacks that were only partially-cured. I fed the dry wood into the fire as needed and left the partially-dried wood stacked near the fireplace, far enough away that there was no danger of catching fire but close enough that heat would accelerate the drying process. After a day near the fire, the late-harvested wood burned well.

We hunted when we could and took several more large animals. Some of the meat went to the miners, the rest came back with the skins and furs to the cabin. We got metal from broken saw-blades and ground black pepper in exchange. The metal made excellent arrow points with a little work.

I guarded our dried meat supply zealously and rationed wood whenever I could. As a result, we were frequently a little hungry when meals were finished, and often the cabin was colder than ideal, but it might keep us from starving or freezing before spring arrived so no one complained.

Whenever the weather cooperated, we brought in sled-loads of new-cut wood and ate fresh meat and vegetables. Snow would put an end to this soon, but I had a plan ready for the first heavy snowfall.

“Laz, I’d like you and Lee to take a close look at the sled, the one we’ve been using for transporting meat. It can carry a lot more weight after it snows, so brace the frame with crosspieces to make it more rigid. If the runners are still good, check the lashings. Reinforce them if they need it and replace any parts that won’t stand up to heavy use. I probably won’t be hauling big logs on it, because the stone boat is still best for heavy loads. It will work even better on snow.

“It’s cold enough now for meat to keep without being smoked or salt-cured, so from now on we’ll hang the quarters of any large animals we kill from the big oak that’s closest to the front door. They’ll be safe from scavengers if they’re high enough, and we won’t have problems with insects now that it’s cold.

“While you’re working on the sled, I’ve got something else I need to do. I’ll head down to the stream tomorrow and stock up on willow branches.”

They looked doubtful; we rarely used willow as construction material. It’s too flexible, as well as not being very strong. But Lee acknowledged the task I’d given them, so the next day I headed for the stream.

There was a small herd of whitetail deer drinking when I got there. I carried my bow ready nowadays as a matter of habit, so as soon as I spotted the buck I drew and loosed without even thinking. I snatched another arrow from my quiver as the others scattered and managed to get a second shot off, this time at one of the does.

I quickly glanced at the buck, but I needed no follow-up shot. The heavy arrow had sunk to the fletching in his side, behind the shoulder and slightly more than halfway down from the withers. Somewhere inside, the arrow had broken. Otherwise, the point would now be sticking out from the side opposite the arrow nock. But the arrow had done its job, and I would recover the steel point during butchering for reuse.

I searched the ground where the others had been and found that I had also scored a hit on the doe. There was a large patch of blood on the ground, not the bright scarlet of a heart or lung shot but a darker red indicting a hit that sliced a large vein. Oxygen content gives the blood that bright red color, and depleted blood on its way back to the heart doesn’t have the same appearance. Still, the amount of spilled blood meant she probably wouldn’t go far so now I needed to track her down and finish the job. I considered pursuing her immediately, but realized that tracking a wounded doe was a good way to lose a dead buck to scavengers. Regretfully, I left the trail for the time being, field-dressed the buck, and went back to the cabin for help.

“I’ve got a buck down,” I reported, “but there’s a wounded doe I need to track. If a couple of you can go back with me to skin and quarter the buck, someone else can come with me to bring back the doe after I catch up to her.”

Millie and Cindy remained at the cabin and continued working while the rest of us hurried down to the stream. The buck was still there, right where I’d left him. There were fewer large game animals around now, so it occurred to me that most of the predators had also moved on.

Laz remained with the women to process the buck’s carcass and carry it back to the cabin, where they would hang the quarters outside in our natural refrigerator. Lee and I soon found the blood trail, and two sets of eyes made tracking easier. One could keep lookout for danger or watch for the downed doe, while the other followed the blood trail.