Redbear by Michael McLean

BERRIES, PLUMP AND RIPE, hung thick on autumn colored foliage amidst scattered rock boulders. Her small fingers were stained with their sweet purple juice as were her lips and tongue from eating them as she gathered the fruit into a woven basket her grandmother had made. This was the time of berry gathering for their people. While men hunted elk and deer, girls of various ages accompanied older women to learn the ancient ways. Earlier, coolness of the morning whispered portents of the oncoming season of snow and cold.

A gust of warm afternoon wind rustled the drying leaves causing her to pause and look around. On the hillside below, she could see other women working their way up the slope. She was out in front of them all. Suddenly a smell came to her—a feral animal scent, unfamiliar but heavy and overpowering. Frozen in place she looked around, not in fear, but in curiosity.

With a whuff… whuff sound, a huge cinnamon colored bear rose on its hind feet from out of a jumble of boulders in front of her. Backing up, she felt her foot wedge between rocks as she tumbled over backward. The pain in her left knee and leg was terrible. The women on the slope below were shouting as the lumbering creature approached and looked down at her. Their eyes met, and the bear held her stare, not moving. The last thing she remembered was the creature’s hot breath and its eyes probing hers as she returned its gaze and examined the bear’s soul.

The face of her grandfather swam into view. His face, aged with wisdom, looked down on her much as the bear had. He was leader of their people and soothed her with gentle words. “You are special little one. The women say the bear touched you with its paw. Bears are medicine spirits that have magical and healing powers. I believe it passed those qualities to you. From this time forward you shall be known as Redbear. I believe you will become a great healer of our people.”

Winter passed, and with each new moon Redbear gained strength, but her knee and leg remained crippled. Young men who had made gestures of interest shunned her. Even her mother, father, and other family members became distant. Not understanding, she believed their behavior was due to a pronounced limp and physical limitations.

One hot summer day, the healing woman known as Whitefox, who had attended her injuries, sat and counseled her. Whitefox had lived through forty-six winters, and her understanding of life was great. She explained that it was natural for a young woman to want a normal life, but people believed Redbear had been granted a magical gift and distanced themselves out of reverence. She was desirable to young men, but they considered her untouchable.

One young warrior, Walks With Elk, was different. He wanted to be with Redbear but also respected the powers she might possess. Walks With Elk taught her the ways of animals and people. He also spoke of the world changing. More white men were coming, and soon the ways of their people would be altered forever. The following year as summer slipped into autumn, her grandfather passed, and Walks With Elk became leader of their people. While he always shared his thoughts and wisdom with her, he took another as a mate.

For a time, Redbear felt pain as if her heart would break, but then she began to discover her destiny. For three more years, the old woman taught her the way of creatures large and small, healing plants, and appropriate blessings to be offered to the gods. Whitefox died in the clutch of a winter blizzard, and suddenly, Redbear found herself looked to as the healer and spiritual leader of her people.

Seasons melted one into another, year after year, and the predictions of Walks With Elk came to pass. As the people adapted to the changing world, their needs for her ever-increasing wisdom grew. Her knowledge of nature and healing ways were in high demand. White people moved closer with families and herds of animals called cattle. Walks With Elk became a great chief and made peace with their neighbors, and Redbear soon found that they also sought her medicinal abilities. The ache of solitude she felt as a young woman was replaced by a bond with nature and understanding of the magical powers the great bear had bestowed upon her. A new world was dawning, and she felt satisfaction to be part of it and to share her knowledge with others as she grew older.

The passing of thirty-three winters left her feeling frail. Age had overcome her, but she knew that was the true nature of all things. Once gleaming black hair was now grey, and each day, her knee and leg ached as if a knife were constantly thrust in them.

The morning dawned bitterly cold, and she clutched the thick fox fur robe tightly to her body. Step by painful step she worked her way up the boulder-strewn hillside she remembered so vividly. Finally, she stopped and sat, resting against a large, smooth rock.

The bear ambled toward her with a slowness that spoke of its years. The hairs of its muzzle and eyebrows had frosted white with the passing of time. It snuffled the air and approached her cautiously. Redbear felt the rock at her back and held out her hand. The bear stopped and sat, then stretched out beside her. Once more their eyes locked and each stared into the soul of the other. She rested her hand on the bear’s head and closed her eyes. Both remained silent and still as flakes of snow began to fall from an ashen sky.

—MICHAEL MCLEAN has packed on horseback in Montana’s high-country wilderness, mined gold and silver thousands of feet below the earth’s surface, fly-fished Yellowstone Park’s blue-ribbon waters, and explored the deserts of the West. Through personal and professional experiences, he has collected a wealth of information to develop story settings, plots and characters. His work has been published in Saddlebag Dispatches, New Mexico Magazine, Rope and Wire and The Penmen Review. His story, “Backroads” was the winner of the 2012 Tony Hillerman Mystery Short Story Contest. He works in New Mexico’s oil and potash-rich Permian Basin and lives in Carlsbad, New Mexico, with his wife, Sandie.