21
40 miles south of Delta
Magda held her hand up and Jerry halted, quickly surveying their horizon, seeking threat.
“We need to turn here,” she said.
He sighed in relief and followed her gaze.
“How do you know? This is the third trail we’ve crossed.”
“Because from here I can see Denali framed between those two trees. I can’t show you proof in one of those travel books, but you can believe my decision.”
“Well, you’re going to follow that path, therefore I will also follow it.”
Magda chuckled. “You’re not following the path. You’re following me.”
“Which will take me to the same place anyway. Yes?”
“Yes. So keep up.” Magda turned away.
“Wait,” he said in a very authoritative tone.
She swung back. “What?”
“What’s on this trail? Is there anything I should be aware of in order not to get killed?”
She gave him a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, you’re right. Yes, there is a Russian odinochka, which must be avoided even though I think there will be nobody there.”
“Why do you think that?”
“There will be a woman, probably Dená, like me. But her man will be gone to the Russians. Word travels fast in the bush, especially this close to the Russians. There are always people going somewhere else, and they talk.
“Once her man hears of the Dená attacks he will immediately hurry to the nearest redoubt to profess his loyalty and total ignorance of what is happening in Russian Amerika. These men are a waste of good women.”
“Are they also Indians?”
“Some. Most are part Russian, a few are French Canadians.”
“Does Russia get along with French Canada?”
“I thought you were the one with the worldly education of North America.”
Jerry suspected a sneer, but ignored it. “Historically they have been at odds since Napoleon marched into Russia. Even though he went no farther than the Berezina River before having second thoughts and withdrawing: he upset the czar.
“Despite the fact he won eastern Canada from the English, then an ally of Russia, diplomatically the two countries agree on more than they disagree. You mentioned French Canada and I wondered if there was something going on here not covered in my studies.”
Magda smiled. “Most of the Frenchmen here are refugees from French Canada. They are radicals but have their uses to the Russians. If they do not cooperate with the government, they will be deported back to Montreal.”
“Where they would be shot.” Jerry nodded.
“Or lose their heads to the guillotine.”
“How long do you think they would be away?”
“No idea.”
“So we should avoid the…”
“Odinochka.”
“…at all costs.”
“Isn’t that what I said in the beginning?”
He thought hard while he followed her and the silent dogs. “Yeah, but I needed to know why, that okay with you?”
“Sure, just don’t stop when you talk; we waste time that way.”
He puffed along for a few minutes. “There anything else ahead that I need to know?”
“Yeah. Don’t make a lot of noise; we’re in Russian country.”
“Okay,” he said in a low voice she probably didn’t hear. “Thanks.”
They walked along a wide valley for a few miles. A low drone caught his attention.
“Listen!” Jerry hissed. They both froze and sank back under the trailside trees. A rapidly growing growl now hung at the edges of their ears. Both dogs peered into the sky.
“Those are P-61s!” Jerry shouted, dancing out into the open.
Three aircraft roared down the valley toward them, no more than 200 meters above ground.
“They came looking for me, they came looking for me!” He jumped up and down waving his arms.
Watching him, Magda suddenly teared up. He thought his comrades had forgotten him. With her mother and father she had witnessed much of the air attack on the ridge and knew how fierce the fighting had been.
She wondered if Jerry knew how many of his fellow pilots had died that day. In the time since they had been together, she had completely forgotten to mention the subject. So many things had happened…
The planes roared over them and the middle craft waggled its wings as they lifted to higher altitude.
“They saw me!” Jerry was nearly hoarse. He turned and grinned at her. “They saw me, Magda.”
“I’m glad they know you’re here. I just hope they can send a land party to help us.”
He went still for a long moment and then looked around. “Yeah, they’d play hell landing here, wouldn’t they?”
“Come on, I’ll bet they’re waiting for you in Delta.” She moved down the trail.
“Here comes another one,” he said in a tone full of hope.
A single plane flew low over them and a small parachute capered down in the turbulent wake.
Without a word Jerry raced to where the small chute would land and caught it in his hands. Ripping off the square yard of silk, he threw it aside and tugged at the lead-weighted cylinder. In moments he unscrewed the white metal device and the cap fell into his hand.
Jerry pulled a small roll of paper out and tossed the tube away. Magda picked it up and stuffed it into her pack next to the small parachute and the white metal cap. They might be everyday junk to Lieutenant Gerald “Bigshot” Yamato, but they were treasures to her.
She had only figured out five uses for each item before Jerry said, “They want to know if I am who I am, and if we have three allies behind us in a truck.”
“Truck?” they said together.
Magda jumped in immediately. “If anyone can find a tool they need within a hundred miles, my mother can. She once found a 9mm wrench my father needed to repair his plane, she found it six miles away at an old mine site.”
“Your father is a pilot?”
“My father is everything,” she said fiercely, nearly tearing up again. She stopped and thought for a moment.
Damn, I’m getting my period!
“We have to signal by pointing to our left for ‘yes,’ and to the right for ‘no.’ ”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll point where you point.”
As they pointed with all four hands, the aircraft roared over them again and waggled its wings as it angled up into a sky the color of her mother’s old trade beads.
“I sure hope we didn’t just save the collective asses of three Russians,” Magda said.
“Damn. I didn’t think of that.”
“Don’t worry,” she said with a wide grin, “it’s Mother. I was just scattering your mind.”