Four Cornered Forest, cont.

A stranger arrives

Driving down the back roads between our cabins the problems of the world melt away. Edsel falls asleep against the half open window with his face in the wind and Grandpa takes the long way just for pleasantry. As we crest over a pass between the two creek drainages I see Bald Mountain in the distance, with a fire lookout perched up top. Grandpa worked the lookout in his first few years in Montana, and still goes up to spend random days up when the current lookout, Sam Waltz, needs to come down. The tower sits 40 feet up on stilts from the bald rocky mountain top and the little 14x14 cabin feels like a ship in the wind, swaying, creaking.

Further down we pass through a clearcut where foresters took all but a few enormous larch that now just stand around with nothing to do but looking at horror at the devastation around them, wondering where all their friends went. Dad, of course, was one of the ones that took all their friends. He kidnaps trees and sends them to slaughter for a living. Mom teases him about this. We all laugh.

The larch are the most magical of the pines, because unlike the rest, they get to shed their needles every year and thus remain forever soft into old age. Letting go allows for rejuvenation every year. They also grow enormously wide, far too big to wrap my arms around, and their baby needles every spring make for delicious tea.

Mom is up and about when we get home. The afternoon sun shines gold through the freshly cleaned windows and a little vinegar smell mixes with the scent of woodsmoke in the house. Mom has an old t-shirt and a bucket of water, cleaning windows with the scent of vinegar and blue spruce, a concoction of her making no doubt. A little pale, but hungry, and even takes a few sips of Grandpa’s beer. Must be feeling better.

Nothing like a little cleaning to make you feel better, she smiles at us...

So this geocache thing… Grandpa is finishing his thought as we walk in and set down the food.

Do you want to go? I ask Grandpa.

Sure, I’d love to go sometime.

We were planning on going this weekend, Mom says.

Red Lakes, Edsel is quick to point out.

I’m supposed to help Sam close down the tower this weekend, but sign me up for the next go around. So people just put things out in the woods… like a treasure hunt?

Exactly.

Is Sam coming down early this year? I thought he usually went later in the season, Mom says.

They are expecting snow above 6000 feet next week. No fires in this district, so we’ll wrap it up early. I may get to spend a few nights up before we actually pull the shutters. Red Lakes, though, eh?

Mom gives Grandpa a funny look that I don’t understand. A history before I was born maybe.

Perim is out on the front porch. Suddenly he lets out a bark. He can hear things long before we can. I look out and see him. His hackles rise a little. He even recognizes familiar cars and will act differently depending on who it is. For Grandpa’s truck he’ll get up and stand and wag and wait. For Dad he stays laying down, but watching. For Mom, he gets up and runs a little around the driveway, like a dance. Anytime we pull in with her, he is doing the same. If the delivery guy pulls in he is soft hackles and a low growl, but he backs away from the door like he knows he has to. But this must be a stranger. The full hackle and bark treatment. He doesn’t like it one bit.

I step out to help him calm down a little and see who it is. Grandpa is watching out the window behind me. His eyes watching something deep in the forest.

I’ve got to go check on something. I’m going to leave Perim with you. Come by later, Grandpa says.

It is afternoon and stillness. The flies are out. Suddenly a little blue car comes into view. Perim is acting funny. He backs towards me by the door with a whimper. I’ve never seen him do this, and when the car pulls up and parks we can see a woman in the front seat. And she is checking her phone. It takes her a good couple minutes and now Mom comes out, waiting and watching, all of us on the front. I am holding Perim in my arms and he is growling just enough like to warn me. Finally the woman gets out of the car.

Long hair, almost pretty except her face, her eyes, so sharp, so boney. As she pulls off her sunglasses I can see a jadedness in her eyes, and it tracks from Perim to me, then the door swings open, and its Mom, and the woman smiles. I can only imagine what she is going to try to sell us. A waterless window cleaner or vacuum or something, but Mom looks like she knows her and steps off the porch, motioning to me to come with her, but Perim and I are staying put on this one. Perim’s hackles are up. I try to pet them down, but it’s no use. He has it out for this woman.

Mom has a look I’ve never seen before. On one hand she is going out to greet this woman, but on the other, she seems a little reserved or nervous. I can tell by the way she is playing with her hair. Twirling it. I can hear faintly.

It’s been a long time.

The woman is looking around at our cabin. At the trees. Like she is looking at her past. Seeing how things have changed. The low golden sun shines in her face and Mom is trying to smile at her. But I can tell it is a try.

She moves her weight onto one hip.

Back in town. Really needed to just see some familiar faces.

Come in for tea?

As the car door closes Perim jumps. His fur slips right through my hands. Mom and this lady don’t see him coming and I almost call to stop him and I could have, but I don’t. I want to see what he does. I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve been with him around deer, bears, skunks (sprayed only once), badgers, squirrels, chipmunks, hornets, porcupine, fish (he’s caught two), muskrats, rabbits, mountain goats, mountain lions, bighorn sheep, a UPS driver (he kind of likes Red, but growls), and pretty much anything else we might encounter, and regardless of perceived threat or chase, I’ve never seen him like this. And in the moment I have to process what he’s doing, he goes right to it, and bites her on the front of the leg. She didn’t see him coming. Her leg kicks, straight to his head, but he is already backing away, too fast, cattle instinct reflexes, and she misses him. Mom pushes her hand down to intervene but it’s too late, Perim! She pushes him back and he lets her, but he is watching this woman with such intensity, head low in distrust. His one blue eye and one gray eye have centered and joined in a third eye that is piercing this woman. Like Grandpa would say, this is a spiritual moment. He backs away quietly as Mom yells: