Read Online Bearwalker by Joseph Bruchac - Free Book Online Page B

ride.
    His wife handed him the backpack that he called his “old kit bag.” It contained a thermos, a sandwich, and a flashlight.
    â€œAll I need aside from Betsy,” he said, tapping the stock of the old single-shot .22 rifle that was slung over his left shoulder.
    I wish I could have stopped him. But what could I have said or done? What did I know besides the fact that I had awful feelings of impending doom?
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    And what can I say now as everyone sits here after dinner, relaxed and listening to Mr. and Mrs. Philo tell their stories? Even Asa and his crew are enjoying it. So much that they seem to have completely forgotten about making my life miserable. As if.
    Mr. Wilbur looks over at me, nods, and gives me a big thumbs-up. He’s noticed that Tara is sitting right next to me here in the corner on the floor. Somehow she seems to have adopted me as her little pet. She even keeps nudging me now and then, peering over my shoulder to see what I’m writing in my notebook. But I coverit with my hand whenever she does that.
    â€œAren’t the Philos just the sweetest?” she whispers in my ear. “Are you writing down their stories?”
    â€œJust writing,” I whisper back. I have to say something. For whatever reason—pity, maybe—she is being nice to me and it does feel good to have her leaning against me like this.
    I straighten my shoulders. I have to think. I have to keep my eyes and ears open. Everybody else believes that it’s all under control here. That the road being blocked is the worst that can happen. I just know it isn’t.
    I look up to scan the room. I’ve chosen this place in the corner not because it’s close to the front where Mr. and Mrs. Philo have now moved from talking about the history of Chuckamuck to telling Adirondack tall tales. I’ve chosen it because from here I can see the whole room. I can see who is here and also who is not here.
    And it is the thought of that one who is not here, the one I haven’t seen since shortly after the explosion went off, that fills me with dread.
    Where is he? That is one of the two questions that keeps running through my head. The other is, Why am I the only one who is worried? For a while, before the Philos got here, itseemed as if Mr. Wilbur shared my uncertainty. But when Mr. and Mrs. Philo arrived he got all relaxed. In fact, he now seems as happy as a clam in its shell. Even though they are just two frail old people, Mr. Wilbur seems to think their being here will make everything turn out right.
    I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I sat at the same table where he and the Philos were talking during dinner and got the picture that they were like family to him. When he was my age he’d come to Camp Chuckamuck as a scared, self-conscious eighth grader and whatever they had done had given him self-confidence and courage. Being back in their presence made him feel like that little boy again being protected by the two people he trusted more than any others.
    I appreciated that. Even though she was old (but not as old as Mrs. Philo), Grama Kateri sort of does that for me when I am around her. When you know that someone loves you and has faith in you, it changes things. It doesn’t take away the pain of losing people you love—or make you grow two feet taller overnight—but it does make you feel less alone.
    However, it ought not to make you feel so secure that you lose sight of what is reallyhappening around you. Mr. Wilbur was the one who said that something wasn’t right with these people who came to replace the Philos as the camp staff. Wasn’t he the one who was trying to convince Mrs. Smiler how incompetent they seemed? Didn’t he seem to think that the one they call Walker White Bear seemed really strange? He was the one who said how much money the camp property was worth if it was sold. Didn’t he hear the Philos say that they came here because he invited them?