Jim nodded. “I wouldn’t want to worry Ma.”
On the way home they shot a squirrel and several wild turkeys, so when they arrived at their cabin, they were well laden with the day’s trophies.
“Oh, Pa!” Ma cried, running out to meet them, her blond hair flying. “I thought you’d never come.” She clapped her hands when she saw the deer hanging from the limb. “Oh, a deer! Now we’ll have plenty of meat.”
Pa smiled and pointed toward Jim. “He shot the deer, Ma. Got him on the first shot. We have a squirrel and some turkeys too, so we’ve a lot of work to do these next few days, jerking this meat.”
The next morning was quite cold as a north wind had risen in the valley during the night. But the Hudsons began working early anyway. Jim helped Pa cut the deer meat into long strips and spread it to dry in the sun.
Pa glanced toward the sun. “I think maybe we’ll have to smoke this meat after all, Jim. This sun isn’t warm enough to cure meat.”
Once the norther had passed, however, the weather did warm considerably; Pa said they were feeling the last breath of summer. While father and son worked with the meat, Ma made two new shirts for them and a linsey woolsey dress for herself. She didn’t mention Indians again, but she seemed to be uneasy as soon as night fell.
On the evening they had the meat laid by, Pa said casually to his wife, “Ma, I think we’ll take our provisions and go up to Harrodsburg for a while.”
Jim glanced quickly at his father to see if he had seen or heard anything alarming, but Pa’s face showed nothing at all.
Ma gasped in surprise. “To Harrodsburg, Pa? Do you mean to the fort? Why?”