The Hermit of Lammas Wood Read online

  “Huh,” Rebecca leaned down and picked up a small pebble from the trail. “More gold?”

  Penny tugged her pack straps snug and leaned over to look. “Yeah. Looks like it. Rain prob’ly exposed it.” She grinned at the younger woman. “You found some before?”

  Rebecca fished in her pocket and pulled out the other piece.

  “Well, you’re paying for your trip right enough. That’s prob’ly worth a couple gold pieces by itself. Where’d you find it?”

  “It was layin’ on the rocks where the trail washed out.”

  “Runoff like that exposes a lot of it. I’ll have to get my gear and see if I can find some. Winter’s worth of runoff should be worth somethin’.” She grinned and beckoned them with a head nod. “We better get goin’ now or we won’t make Gran’s by nightfall.”

  “As many trappers and hunters as I keep hearin’ about out here, why aren’t these mountains crawling with miners?” Tanyth asked as the stepped along the trail.

  “Prob’ly cause most trappers and hunters are lookin’ for gold in skins and furs, not the ground,” Penny said over her shoulder. “I s’pect if the word ever got out, Northport would come apart at the seams with all the people tryin’ to get in there.”

  Tanyth snickered.

  “It don’t hurt that there’s none of it on the other side of the Black Rock. I’ve only ever found it on this side.”

  “Well, somebody’s comin’ across the river often enough,” Rebecca said from the back of the line.

  “How ya figger?” Penny asked.

  “Bridge. Somebody built it. They musta needed it, ’cause that’s not just a put it up and forget it, one time kinda thing.”

  “Trappers need to get across the river with their furs,” Penny said. “They have a couple of cabins down in the spruces where they set up for the season. Mostly late summer and fall. Bunch of ’em gather there. They’ll run trap lines until the snow gets too much—or they run out of beer.”

  “How they get beer there?” Tanyth asked. “Long way back to town.”

  “They pack in the barley and yeast and make it. You ever get invited to try any? Pass.”

  Rebecca laughed and Tanyth put her head down and concentrated on walking. Something about the story sounded off. “You’d think somebody woulda tumbled on it before now,” she muttered.

  “What’s that, mum?” Penny asked, turning her head back to look at Tanyth.

  “Nothin’, my dear. Old woman like me talks to herself to remember what she’s thinkin’.”

  “Does it help?” she asked, a broad grin on her face.

  “I don’t know. I’m one of them people that it goes in one ear and out the other. I just can’t convince me to shut up about it.”

  They all laughed and concentrated on following the narrow trail around the shoulder of the mountain.

  By mid-morning, the fresh, green smell of the spruces took on the faint aroma of sulfur matches. They rounded one last outcropping of stone and stood at the top of a trail that led down into a forest of smoke plumes rising nearly straight up in the still morning air. The plumes seemed to go on forever.

  Penny paused on the ledge so they could get a good look.

  “Valley of a Thousand Smokes?” Tanyth asked.

  “Yeah. Prob’ly more’n a thousand, though.”

  Tanyth let her gaze slide across the vista, not counting as much as taking it all in.

  “Story is, one of the original trappers up here in the north country found this place and named it. I suspect a thousand was as high as he could count,” Penny said.

  “Prob’ly a bigger number than he ever needed,” Rebecca said.

  Tanyth looked at her. “You could be right.”

  “Well, you see that ridge that juts out about halfway up there?” Penny pointed at the far side of the long valley to a point where a cleared ridge extended into the valley floor.

  “The one with the single spruce on the top of it?” Tanyth asked.

  “Yep. Gran’s house is just beyond that.”

  Tanyth measured the position of the sun in the southeastern sky and turned back to Penny. “We best get movin’ then.”

  With a smile and nod, Penny led the way down the trail and into the valley.

  As they worked their way down the side of the mountain, the temperature rose. Tanyth unbuttoned her coat to let the tails swing free. They passed several small pools where the very mud bubbled in soupy, gloppy glugs. Once they passed a cracked rock plate beside the trail and were startled when a plume of water hissed loudly into the air for nearly a minute before subsiding.

  “What is this place?” Rebecca asked.

  “The earth’s heat is right under the surface here,” Tanyth said. “It heats the water and cooks the land.”

  “She’s right,” Penny said. “Pay attention to where you’re putting your feet or you’ll find your boots smoldering under them.”

  “Why would she live here?” Rebecca asked. “And who made this trail?”

  Penny shrugged. “Because this is where the hermit always lives, and not ‘who’ made the trail but ‘what.’”

  “All right,” Rebecca said with a laugh in her voice. “What made this trail?”

  They rounded a bend and came upon a grassy field. Dozens of elk stood looking at them. One of the bigger bulls trotted a few steps in their direction, putting himself between them and the cows.

  “Oh,” Rebecca said in a very small voice.

  “Just keep walking and don’t stare at them,” Penny said, her voice barely audible over the noise of wind in their ears. “They come down out of the high country to winter over where there’s water and heat,” she said.

  “Smart animals,” Tanyth said, casting an admiring glance at the magnificent creatures feeding only a few yards away.

  “Don’t hunters come here for them?” Rebecca asked.

  “Gran don’t allow hunters in the valley.”

  Tanyth blinked. “I thought you never spoke with her.”

  Penny laughed quietly. “I don’t.”

  “Then how...?”

  “I talk to hunters,” she said. “There are some ferocious tales about Gran out there in the world.”

  Rebecca’s steps slowed and she fingered her bow. “Are they true?”

  Penny glanced back at Rebecca. “Some are. Some aren’t. Some are part true and some are part false. You are not a hunter. I’d be surprised if we even see her.”

  Tanyth snorted. “I hope you’re wrong with that last bit.”

  Penny laughed again. “Come on. We’ve still got a long way to go.”

  They hiked up the valley floor, following the elk trail between bubbling pools and smelly mud pits. As they walked, the terrain changed from being mostly rock with a smattering of grasses to patches of rock in large clearings of alpine grasses and flowers. The farther they went the more the landscape became familiar, with a less-blasted feeling. By the time the sun sailed high in the southern sky, they could see the lone spruce standing on the ridgeline ahead.

  “It’s still a long hike,” Penny said. “Let’s grab some lunch and tea. Then we can go see if Granny Pinecrest is home.”

  “Tea?” Tanyth said. “You’re goin’ to start a fire?”

  Penny shook her head and led the way to one of the exposed rock patches that dotted the landscape. She hunkered down and held her hand out over the rock, edging closer to the middle until she was standing in the center. “Too cool,” she said and walked to the next patch a few yards away.

  The grasses grew well back from the rocky scab on the ground. Penny didn’t even bother to get close to the ground, just held her hand out at waist height. “Yeah. This’ll do.”

  She stepped back onto the grass and the small party shucked their packs.

  Tanyth dug out the teapot and a canteen. She filled the teapot with water and handed it to Penny,

  who walked back to the rocky patch and, with quick steps, went a few feet out onto the rock, placed the teapot on the gro
und and hurried back, scuffing her feet in the loose soil surrounding the rock.

  “That’s a bit warm,” she said, lifting her feet to look at her boots. “Not scorched but they felt like it.”

  In less time than seemed possible the kettle started steaming and rattling around on the flat rock. Penny took a piece of folded cloth with her and scampered out on the rock to retrieve the kettle. “Lot faster than a fire,” she said, setting the pot down so Tanyth could throw some tea into it.

  “I could get used to this,” Tanyth said. “Hot water on demand.”

  Rebecca eyed the flat rocky patch. “How could ya get a bath tub out there?”

  Penny giggled. “Well, the tub would be pretty easy. Water would be difficult, and I think the problem would be keeping it cool enough. You saw how fast that pot boiled.”

  Rebecca frowned. “Still...”

  “There’re springs up in the foothills. They get fed cool water and aren’t so hot to begin with. I’ll show you one of these days. There’s one near my cave.”

  The idea obviously interested Rebecca. Tanyth could practically see the thoughts roiling around behind the young woman’s eyes.

  They all dug out travel rations and dined in the sunshine, washing the dried fruit and grain down with luxurious gulps of hot tea.

  “We got enough food to get back with?” Tanyth asked, peering into her pack.

  Penny nodded. “I’ve got half a dozen bars left and there’s dried fruit in the cave. Rebecca here can take all the fish we can eat at Black Rock Canyon. I’d guess you’ve got a trick or two yourself.” She smiled at Tanyth.

  Tanyth shrugged one shoulder. “Possible. Travel rations are a lot easier to deal with.

  Penny split the remaining tea among their cups and then scuffed a hole in the soil. She dumped the dregs into it, pushing the dirt back with the side of her shoe. “Time to see if Gran’s acceptin’ callers,” she said without looking up.

  Tanyth accepted the empty pot and stuffed it back in her pack before climbing to her feet. “She is or she isn’t. Either way, let’s go see.”

  They shouldered their packs, and Penny led the way down the trail toward the ridge with the lone spruce on top.

  Chapter Eighteen:

  A Stone Cottage

  By midafternoon they reached the ridge. Penny led them around the end of it into a pocket of forest in the shelter of the mountain. Some of the trees were bigger around than Tanyth. The rocky ground sported patches of grass, and—here and there—delicate wildflowers blossomed. The scent of lavender drifted on the afternoon breeze as they walked under the trees, toward the base of the mountain. Tanyth looked down to see drifts of it growing in the dappled sun. Their passage crushed the fragrant stems.

  “This is beautiful,” Rebecca whispered, her head turning this way and that as if on a spring.

  “You should see it in summer,” Penny said. “When the leaves fill in, it’s even prettier.”

  They entered a grove of apple trees, the pale blossoms already showering from the limbs. The ancient trees felt healthy and cared for. Tanyth rested a hand on the mottled bark of one old-timer and gazed up through the lattice of limbs to a perfect blue sky above.

  Penny and Rebecca stopped a few feet away.

  “It’s amazin’,” Tanyth said. “It’s almost magical.”

  Penny grinned at her. “I feel the same way every time I come here.”

  “Where’s the house?” Rebecca asked.

  Penny laughed. “Right there.” She stretched an arm and pointed.

  Not twenty feet away, a stone cottage nestled against the rocky feet of the mountain. The slanted roof sported sod instead of shakes and the walls were native stone so perfectly matched to the mountainside that the eye just slid right over it, unable to see the house among the rocks. A weathered wooden door and a few shutters on small windows were the only obvious sign that a building rested there.

  Tanyth leaned against the tree and drank in the peace.

  The door swung inward and the old woman with frizzy white hair from Tanyth’s dream stepped out into the sun.

  Time seemed to stop for Tanyth. She stood there for several long moments before stepping forward.

  “Mother Pinecrest?” she said, her voice not much more than a croak.

  “Fairport, isn’t it?” the woman said. “Tanyth Fairport?”

  “Yes. Mother—”

  “I know who sent you. And when. You were supposed to be here last fall. Whatever possessed you...never mind. You’re here now. Come in, come in.” Her voice sounded strong and firm, even if her tone carried a certain level of exasperation. She stepped aside and waved a hand at the open door.

  “Gran?” Penny stepped forward from the shadows, her face transfixed.

  The old woman paused and her head turned back and forth as if trying to find the source of this new voice. “Penelope? Is that really you?”

  “Yes, Gran. It’s me.”

  “Who else is out there?”

  “Good afternoon, mum. My name is Rebecca.”

  “Ah, the Marong girl. Good.”

  Tanyth saw Rebecca stop and blink her eyes.

  “You know me, mum?”

  “Well, not know you know you. I know of you, girl. Your father’s been a pain in my side for decades now.”

  “I...don’t know what to say.”

  “Then don’t say anything, girl. Don’t be a loon.” The old woman’s head scanned back and forth again as if searching and stopped facing her granddaughter. “Penelope, you and Rebecca here need to go back to your cave. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not time.”

  “But, Gran...” Penny stopped in mid-sentence, the sense of loss plain on her face. “I’ve wanted to talk with you for...well, for ages. I’ve come to visit you half a dozen times and you are never here.”

  The old woman held out her arms. “Come here, my girl. Come closer.”

  Penny walked up to her grandmother, slowly and with halting steps.

  When Penny got within reach, the old woman folded her in her arms and hugged her, rocking slowly and crooning as if she were rocking a baby while singing a lullaby.

  “My dear child, I’m always here, but sometimes I...well, it’s just the way things go. It’s something I’ve had to get used to. I always knew when you visited. I thank you for the many warm and loving thoughts you’ve had of me.”

  The old woman pulled back and held Penny by the upper arms, easing her away slowly. Tanyth saw tears streaking down both women’s faces.

  “You are a wonderful healer, my dear. A talented healer. You have much to offer the world in your own place. It seems cruel, I know—Lady knows it feels cruel—but you and the Marong girl need to leave the valley.”

  “Why, Gran? Can’t we stay the night?” Penny looked to where the sun was already beginning to disappear behind the mountain’s rocky shoulder.

  The old woman turned her face to the sun and then back to her granddaughter. “Yes, of course. Stay the night and leave at first light. Go back to your cave. Search for gold or mushrooms or fish. Go back to Northport, even. Whatever you wish, just...” the old woman bit her lower lip between her teeth for a moment. “Just promise me.”

  Penny looked at Rebecca, who looked at Tanyth.

  Penny shrugged and nodded. “Of course, Grandmother, whatever you say.”

  The old woman’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at Penny. “You make an old woman proud, girl. Surely, you do.” She ushered them all into the cottage and closed the door behind them.

  At first glance, the cottage seemed simple—a single large rectangular room with a stone hearth in one end, a low fire banked against the back wall. The back wall of the cottage, where it met the mountain, held cabinets and shelves. Artifacts of all kinds filled the shelves—books, bones, and rocks. Wooden carvings stood everywhere and as Tanyth’s eyes got used to the dim light inside, she saw that almost every wooden surface in the cottage had been carved—even the exposed beams and rafters overhead. A low bed with a bright
ly colored blanket stretched its length along the wall near the hearth. Even the legs and headboard of that were carved. The only thing not carved was the table top—one single plank almost four feet across and perhaps six feet long mounted on legs carved in gentle curves with hooves at the feet that reminded Tanyth of goats.

  Tucked in a corner at the back Tanyth spied a second door, also carved. Faces stared at her out of the wood and geometric patterns filled in the planes.

  “This is amazing,” Rebecca said, her gaze tracing the lines of carvings around the room.

  Mother Pinecrest cackled. “Oh, yes. Amazing. Excellent word. This place is amazing. I’ve been amazed by something or other almost every day I’ve been here.” She stopped in the middle of the room and twisted her head this way and that as if watching a pesky fly, or trying to tell where some elusive sound came from. “Tea? You didn’t bring tea, did you?” For once her voice sounded wistful rather than querulous.

  “Of course, Grandmother. We brought tea.”

  The old woman’s eyes widened. “Well, would it be too much to trouble you for enough to make a pot of tea? I’ve missed tea more than anything.”

  “Of course,” Penny said. “We’ve plenty.”

  The old woman clapped her hands together in a girlish gesture of delight. “Wonderful. Let’s get a kettle going, shall we?”

  In a few moments, the younger women had a pot of water cozied up to the fire. They spread their bedrolls out beside the hearth and each sat on the padded floor while the two older women drew their chairs closer to the cheery warmth of the fire.

  As they waited for the water to come to a boil, Mother Pinecrest turned to Tanyth. “Well, my girl, you’ve had a long and roundabout journey, eh?”

  Tanyth smiled at the woman’s turn of phrase. Being over fifty winters old and being called “my girl” by a woman who might well be old enough to be her mother gave her an odd, but comfortable, feeling. “Yes’m. I have indeed.”

  “So, now you’re here, you ready to learn?” Mother Pinecrest’s pale blue eyes turned to her.

  Tanyth noticed the mouse hiding in her hair. “I’m not going mad, am I.” A statement, not a question.