There was a small shift in Zeke’s expression that Cal couldn’t quite read, but he realized he’d been staring and looked back at his hands.
“What are you doing there?” asked Zeke. “You started the kit, I see.”
“And I’m finishing it,” said Cal, resisting the temptation to hurl the pieces of leather across the tent. He wasn’t a kid and, unlike Preston, he wasn’t prone to fits of temper. “I’ve undone the laces more times than I care to admit.”
“Are you following the instructions?” asked Zeke, though it was obvious that Cal had been, as the folds of paper were at his feet where he could read them.
“They stop after step four and just say, keep repeating what you’re doing.” Cal held up the leather thread and thick needle, and though he usually never asked for help, not if he could help it, he found himself asking, “Do you know how to do this?”
“I sure do,” said Zeke. “I learned when I was young. From my mother.”
“Can you help me?”
The result was amazing to watch. Zeke’s face softened, and he said, “I reckon I could.”
Zeke sat on the cot next to Cal, taking the two pieces from Cal’s hands and the leather thread and needle. He placed the sole on his thigh, face down and, without even looking in the directions, began to thread the upper fringed part to the sole.
With mesmerizing speed, Zeke sewed first one moccasin, and then the other. Then he used the sturdy leather needle to pull the main, thick leather lace through the top of each moccasin.
At one point, he pricked his finger with the thick needle, but before he could snatch his hand away, a drop of blood soaked into a tiny portion of leather just by the heel.
“Sorry about that.”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Cal. “I bet Native Americans did that sometimes when they made moccasins.”
“I’ll bet they did at that,” said Zeke. “Now, where are the beads?”
When Cal reached and got the plastic baggie of beads, Zeke spilled some of them in his palm and swirled a finger in the beads, making them sparkle. “We’ll lace these onto the fringes. Not so many as to weigh the moccasin down, but enough to add some color and movement.”
Cal picked out a half dozen beads for each moccasin, and held them in his cupped hand. Then he watched with rapt fascination as Zeke slid each bead onto a fringe and then tied a sturdy knot in the leather.
“You can try ‘em on,” said Zeke. He handed the moccasins, complete with beads, to Cal.
Cal tore off his boots and socks and slipped his feet into the moccasins, and crouched to tie them. Now he was eye level with Zeke’s knees and looked up to see Zeke looking down at him with solemn eyes.
“What’ll we do with all this leftover leather?” asked Cal as he got back on the cot and tapped his moccasin toes together to watch the beads move.
He knew they needed to get to lunch, but it was nice having this moment with Zeke. Just the two of them in Cal’s tent, where the air smelled like new leather moccasins and the slight musical sound of the beads tickled his ears.
“We can make a bear scare and give it to Bede,” said Zeke with a small laugh that lit up his features.
“A what now?” asked Cal.
“Give me that leather thread and I’ll show you.”
Cal grabbed the thread and handed it over, and then slid closer to Zeke.
It turned out that a bear scare was an arrangement of two leather threads with knots tying the two together in three places. Between the knots, Zeke slid on a single bead.
“Hold out your wrist.”
Zeke tied the bracelet around Cal’s left wrist, then explained what the knots and beads meant.
“This center knot is the bear,” said Zeke, tapping the middle knot with his finger. “And the knot I used to tie it on your wrist, that’s you. Between you and the bear are your friends—that’s these two knots. The beads are the courage of your convictions.”
“Sweet.” Cal jangled the bracelet to make the beads sparkle. “Now, let’s make one for you.”
Following Zeke’s patient instructions, Cal knotted the remaining leather thread, placing beads between the knots, then he tied it on Zeke’s wrist.
