Reclamation (Best Laid Plans Book 4) (21 page)

“No worries,” Trev called. “It's not a race. That's why we started early, right?”

Aunt Clair looked back, making a face. “It might not be a race, but we still have to reach the finish line.”

They took the canyon at a more reasonable speed, stopping to walk their bikes several times. To be honest Lewis didn't mind too much, since they were wearing their protective beekeeping clothes and even the mild breezy day was making him sweat like crazy.

There was also the fact that a lot of their hurry last time had come from Pete zooming up and down goading them on. Without him pushing them to go faster they reached the top a half hour later, but with enough energy to set a much faster speed on the gentler slopes beyond. So it all balanced out.

And more than balanced out, since they saved hours on their trip without the detour down the road Pete had taken, then having to retrace their steps and follow Matt and the Hardings down the correct road. Thanks to that, and the fact that they had a shorter distance to go to reach the ravine, they got there in the early afternoon and coasted their bikes down the steep road leading to the bottom.

They'd stopped for lunch only a couple hours earlier, so after just a few minutes to rest they left their bikes behind and hiked up the stream to the copse of trees with its tangle of undergrowth. There Lewis pointed to the hive he'd seen, which buzzed with just as much activity as before.

“Do we harvest it now?” Trev asked, looking a bit uneasy now that the task was there in front of him.

Lewis exchanged glances with his aunt. “I think we should hold off on that,” she said. “We still need to wander around this area and see if we can find a migrating swarm, and I'd rather we do that
before
we infuriate a bunch of bees.”

“We can also keep our eye out for more hives to harvest,” Lewis added. “This is a good location, and where there's one there might be others. Even though I sort of doubt we'll find anything, we definitely won't if we don't look.”

“Okay.” His cousin looked around, stretching slightly. “Should we split up? I'll circle left around the copse, mom can circle right, and you can shove your way upstream through dense undergrowth.”

Lewis snorted. “Yeah, no.” He looked around for a moment, then pointed to another nearby copse. “I'll go check that out.” The other two nodded and started off, and he called after them. “Remember, migratory swarms aren't
that
common. This hive might've already sent one off weeks ago, or won't for another few weeks. Don't be too bummed out if we don't find one, since we know we'll at least be coming home with some honeycombs.”

His cousin grimaced. “I'm glad
you
know that,” he muttered, giving the hive another uneasy look. Then he grinned to show he was still on board and started off again. Aunt Clair nodded to him and started off too, so Lewis began picking his way up the hillside to the left of the stream to reach the copse halfway up.

He was the one who'd given the warning, but even so he was a bit disappointed when he didn't find anything in the small stand of trees. Well, he found
something
, forageable plants and signs of game he could hunt or leave traps for, but it wasn't what he'd come looking for.

After thoroughly inspecting the underbrush and deadfall beneath the trees Lewis went on to another nearby copse. By the stream he could see his cousin and aunt had met up and were picking their way into the denser growth of that copse. Hopefully they wouldn't waste too much time in that tangle and would start searching the copses on the other hillside next.

Over the next few hours they searched a wider and wider area around the hive down at the stream. Lewis didn't see any sign of swarms or of other hives, but stubbornness and the thought of Trev's disappointment kept him looking after he would've given up.

Finally, with the sun sinking low on the horizon, he called his cousin and aunt back to the copse. “We still have time to harvest this hive and make it back down to Aspen Hill to sleep in our own beds before it gets too dark,” he offered. “If you want to keep looking I won't argue, but I think chances are pretty slim of just wandering through the woods and stumbling on a swarm at this point.”

Aunt Clair sighed. “I suppose finding a migrating swarm is more of a discovery of opportunity than something you set out looking for. Maybe we can ask people to keep their eyes open when they're out hunting and foraging and let us know if they find one.”

Trev nodded glumly. “I guess the day's not a complete waste with the honey we'll be getting. Let's figure that out.”

Lewis nodded his agreement, and they spent the next few minutes gathering up green wood and leaves and gingerly piling them next to the tree below the hive, careful to not get too close to the insects or disturb them. It took a bit of finagling to get the fire started, especially with bees buzzing overhead, but Lewis did his best to stay calm and get it done quickly.

Finally thick acrid smoke began drifting, then pluming up from the growing fire. Up above them the buzzing sound diminished as the flow of bees coming to and from the hive slowed to a trickle. The smoke seemed to have calmed them, although there was no way to tell by how much until they actually dug in there bear-style to grab the honeycomb.

Since the wind was a bit uncooperative, blowing the smoke the wrong way half the time, they waited a bit longer to be safe. And also, Lewis could admit to himself, to build up his courage for the task ahead. But finally he took a deep breath and glanced over at Trev. “Ready?”

His cousin nodded, doing his best to look casual. “I've been stung before. Wasn't that bad.”

They started forward, gloves tied over their long shirts and mosquito netting draped over their hats. Lewis carried his heavy knife for cutting open the hive, while Trev held the sack for harvesting honeycomb and the metal pail.

His cousin made straight for the fire, scooping a generous bunch of coals and smoldering leaves into the pail. Here the wind finally worked in their favor, blowing across the top of the small container and keeping the fire inside going strong. As thick smoke drifted up Trev gave him one last questioning look to see if he was ready. Lewis nodded, so his cousin lifted the smoking pail beneath the hive with one hand while bracing himself against the tree with the other, planting a foot as high up the trunk as he could for Lewis to use as a leg up.

His turn. Lewis clutched the knife in one hand and climbed the trunk, careful not to put too much weight on the foothold his cousin had provided him. With a bit of effort he managed to pull himself onto the lowest branch, which was dead and broken off after a few feet. The footing was unsteady there, so he leaned against the trunk almost right next to the hive as he took a deep, steadying breath.

Then he began cutting into a layer of rotted bark covering the main part of it.

Once he pulled the wood away he uncovered the neatly layered honeycombs inside, as well as an almost frightening number of bees. Many of which immediately began buzzing around. Thanks to the smoke they didn't get aggressive, though, and Lewis mustered the nerve to begin brushing them off the first honeycomb so he could cut chunks of it free to drop in the bag Trev held below him.

He worked fast, especially after a bee managed to sneak beneath the mosquito netting and stung him on the neck, giving him extra motivation. The old hive seemed to have endless layers of honeycomb going deeper and deeper, plenty to spare, but he didn't get greedy and left quite a bit behind. It was spring now and the bees should be able to manage with a small store, but he didn't want some freak event to kill the hive because he took too much.

It was a relief to finally call down to his cousin he was done. He wasted no time in hopping down, and with Trev close behind they made a beeline for where Aunt Clair waited.

“Nice,” she said when Trev handed over the bag, which she had to use two hands to lift. After brushing aside a few bees crawling around near her gloved fingers she hefted it thoughtfully. “What does that feel like, 50 pounds?”

“Probably closer to 40,” Trev said.

Lewis nodded in agreement. “Give or take a few pounds. Although not all of that is going to be honey. Still, not bad.”

“Not bad at all, and we'll definitely find uses for beeswax too.” His aunt patted him on the shoulder. “I saw you wince at least once. Was it too bad?”

He shook his head. “Just got me that once. Trev?”

“Came off scot-free. Of course I was holding the smoke and you were the one ripping apart their hive.” His cousin gave him a sheepish look. “I guess next time it'll be my turn to do the exciting part.”

“I won't argue.” Lewis glanced up at the sky, then held out his hand to take back the honey. “Well we should still have plenty of time to make it home. Let's get going.”

They set a brisk pace back downstream to their bikes, and moments later were pedaling up the steep slope to the top of the ravine. Once they finished that brief uphill jaunt the rest of the trip would be almost all downhill, and the only thing holding them back would be how reckless they wanted to be with their brakes and around corners.

Lewis had just reached the top and was coasting towards where the steep downhill slope began when Aunt Clair abruptly shouted and skidded to a stop. Biting back a curse, he mashed the brakes as well, and as soon as he was fully stopped began unslinging his rifle. Behind and off to the side Trev was doing the same.

Then he saw where his aunt was pointing, at a solitary young aspen tree off to one side that looked like a shoot from the nearby grove. On the lowest branch a fuzzy basketball-sized shape hung, heavy enough to make the limb droop, made up of tiny shifting specks with more coming and going.

A swarm.

“Well how about that,” Trev said, taking his hand away from his rifle. “We wasted all that time down in the ravine, when all we needed to do was keep our eyes open a bit better on the way here.”

Lewis slung his rifle again, hardly able to believe their luck. “Better late than never.” He shifted his gaze from the swarm to the horizon. “I think we might have time to catch it and still get home.”

Aunt Clair nodded. “Shouldn't take more than a few minutes to spray it down, then shake it into the box.”

Trev immediately dropped his bike and started for the tree, reaching into his pack for the spray bottle full of sugar water with one hand as he tugged the mosquito netting down around his face and the back of his neck with the other. Lewis followed suit, although it took him a bit longer to untie the box they'd made to transport the swarm.

By the time he caught up his cousin Trev had already liberally doused the ball of bees with the water. Lewis slid open the box's lid and held it up beneath the swarm, and his cousin wasted no time giving the branch a single, heavy shake. The swarm almost completely dislodged, dropping onto the soft cloth they'd placed at the bottom of the box. Only a hundred or so bees remained clinging to the branch, waving their sodden wings but unwilling to take flight.

“Think we got her?” Trev asked, looking down into the confused mass of insects in the container.

Lewis held off on shutting the lid, keeping it in place below the branch. “We'll see in a second.” If the queen had dropped with the rest of the swarm then the bees still on the branch would drop down to rejoin her, while if she was still on the branch the bees in the box would be trying to leave.

After the swarm's confusion settled a bit the bees on the branch began dropping down, and the ones in the box began reforming the swarm inside. Lewis waited to see if any scouts would return to rejoin the swarm, and after a couple arrived he closed the lid after them and fastened it tight.

Moving much more gingerly now, he carried their new bees back to his pack and tied it on, then carefully lifted it onto his shoulders and got on his bike. “Let's go a bit carefully,” he said as his aunt and cousin returned to their bikes. “I wouldn't want to crash, or even bounce these poor guys all over the place too much.”

Aunt Clair took the lead again, with Trev following behind and Lewis in the back. They all kept an eye out for bumps or unexpected turns, and from his position Lewis had enough time to react when he saw his aunt or cousin go over one they hadn't seen. In spite of their caution they made good time, and with half an hour until sunset he was fairly confident they'd reach the canyon by then, and get home well before full dark.

At which point, with an eerie feeling of deja vu, he heard the sound of a truck engine in the distance.

It has to be US military. I mean, it has to be, right?

Trev was the first one off his bike, rifle unslung and ready as he tried to pinpoint the direction of the noise. Surprisingly, in spite of the fact that Lewis was carrying a swarm of bees in a bulky box on his back he reacted almost as fast. Although his cousin's reaction was to pedal furiously for the nearest source of cover behind an outcropping of rock, heedless of the jouncing.

That was probably the more reasonable response to the threat, rather than abandoning his bicycle and whipping out his gun in the middle of the road like Trev had. Trev hastily picked up his bike again, still holding his M16 in one hand, and awkwardly hopped on and pedaled for the hiding spot.

It was only when he'd almost reached cover himself that he realized his mom didn't seem to have heard the noise. She was fifty feet farther on before she finally realized they weren't behind her, and as she braked as well she looked back at them in confusion. “What is it?”

“Truck engine!” he called back.

Even at that distance and in the fading light he saw her face tighten with worry, and she wasted no time wheeling her bike around to join them. While she was on her way Lewis tried to radio in a warning to Aspen Hill, but got no response. Not too surprising given how far into the mountains they were.

“What do we do if it turns out to not be the military?” Trev asked once his mom pulled her bike behind the outcropping and they were all as hidden away as possible.