Chickadee (6 page)

Mekadewikonayewinini. Black Robe.

That's what Omakayas called the curious man. Catholic priests were known as the black robes—they dressed in the same curious costumes and carried a certain book. They sometimes pulled out anama'eminensag, or what some called praying berries or praying ropes. Their hands moved on these strings of beads as they recited the same words over and over. They were interesting people, and sometimes took the trouble to learn the Anishinabe language. This priest lived as the Anishinabe did, too, and traveled with those who had moved out onto the Plains. He was known to them all as Father Genin. This priest had come to the sugaring camp in order to learn about how the Ojibwe made their delicious sugar. This priest had traveled from the prairies past the Pembina Hills, with the two hard sons of Zhigaag. On the way, he'd hoped to convert them, but seeing as all the way there they'd fought, swore, hit their horses, drank whiskey, and insulted each other long into the night, it was evident that he had failed.

C
hickadee and Makoons were taking a well-deserved rest. They were making sure they got their rest by hiding behind the rocks again. Slowly they licked the cones of sugar that Nokomis had given them.

“Brother,” said Makoons in a worried voice, “how many family and friends do we have here?”

“Let's count,” said Chickadee.

The twins tried to count everyone in their family. Some were missing though. Animikiins, Fishtail, and Two Strike were hunting.

“And how much family does Zhigaag have?” asked Makoons.

“Just his sons, but they're worth several warriors apiece.”

“That worries me,” said Makoons. “Because I am the one who tied the old man's moccasins together and made a feast for the mice out of his jacket. I had to take revenge for Nookoo, and for you, my brother.”

“Miigwech, thank you,” said Chickadee with a grin.

Chickadee was not surprised by his brother's confession. His twin was a clever joker, and this prank had worked all too well.

“I am just worried that I have got us all into trouble,” said Makoons. “I wish that Two Strike, our Deydey, Fishtail, or even Uncle Quill was here. They could take on ten Zhigaags. I didn't know that Babiche and Batiste would show up.”

“Did you see the way they looked at us?”

“No doubt they have their suspicions.”

“I think Zhigaag told them about the problem with his hat,” said Chickadee.

“His hat will never be the same. I wonder what he's wearing today—no fancy hat, no trader's topcoat.”

The twins lay back against the rock and gazed into the waving tops of the maple trees. Lost in their silent thoughts, they did not notice the rustling of footsteps. Then suddenly there were voices, grown men's voices. Babiche and Batiste sat down on the rock. There was the scrape of a striker, and then the wafting odor of tobacco. As the two men puffed on their pipes, the twins shrank against the rock. They hardly breathed. Their hearts beat frantically. Makoons closed his eyes in fear, but Chickadee kept one eye open.

“One of those two scrawny puppies has shamed our father,” Babiche said at last.

“We should catch them and throw them in the soup pot,” said Batiste.

“Har, har, har,” laughed Babiche. “They wouldn't make more than a few mouthfuls for men like us.”

“Look down at my leg,” said Batiste. “The muscles are so big I could outrun a horse.”

“You are mighty, my brother,” Babiche agreed. “But just look at my fist. It is so hard it could smash a rock.”

“Your fist is hard,” said Batiste. “And as large as your own head.”

“Har, har, har,” laughed Babiche. “You are very funny, my brother.”

Makoons opened one eye and looked into Chickadee's open eye. The twins silently agreed that Babiche and Batiste weren't funny.

“Think,” said Babiche, blowing out a cloud of smoke, “of what we could do to those worthless puppies with your leg, and my fist.”

“Or my two fists, and your head.”

“Or your two legs, and my one fist.”

“Or if we squeezed them between our rock-hard bellies!”

“Har, har, har,” laughed Babiche. “You are funny, my brother.”

“All we need to do is get them alone, with nobody watching us.”

Chickadee's and Makoon's eyes opened wide in alarm. Then they felt the two massive men moving above them, leaning over them, and they saw the craggy faces of the brothers very near. Suddenly both brothers sucked hard on their pipes and then blasted smoke out into the boys' eyes.

How it burned! Although blinded, the twins leaped up anyway, fast as rabbits. They jumped, fell, scurried, blundering into trees and tripping over branches as they fled.

Behind them, the powerful big brothers flexed the muscles of their arms and compared their fists again, smoked their pipes, and laughed and laughed.

Chickadee and Makoons reeled back to the safety of their camp to find the women in the family were finishing their work. They crept into the wigwam to hide, hoping that the family would leave the camp very soon.

It seemed they would. Once the nights and the days were warm, and the sun increased its strength, the days of sugar bush were over. Omakayas wrapped the tawny blocks of maple sugar in birchbark and tied the bark down with split jack-pine root. After the sugaring, the family planned to return to the islands in the Lake of the Woods, where they would hunt furs and build their stores of food through the summer. They all looked forward to warm days of fishing, berry picking, gathering medicines, and swimming.

But the two sons of Zhigaag had something else in mind.

Even as the other families gathered their blankets and pots and prepared to move, Babiche and Batiste sat on the rock. There, the pipe smoke drifting up in curls, they hatched an inglorious plan.

“We are important,” said one brother.

“That is true,” said Batiste. “We carry the mail on our horses. Everyone treats us with respect.”

“But our shanty, it is a mess,” said Babiche. “I was thinking how nice it would be to have a wife.”

“A wife is too much trouble,” replied his brother. “Besides, we'd need two. We couldn't share a wife.”

“Har, har,” said Babiche, “you are funny, my brother. What we need is a servant.”

“A servant! Now that is a fine idea. We are important enough to have a servant, but where would we get one?” asked Batiste.

“I have an idea,” said Babiche. “Those two insulting rabbits who look exactly alike—what if one disappeared?”

“We might get in trouble with that whole family,” said Batiste.

“Oh, I very much doubt it, my brother,” said Babiche. “Remember, they have two the same! They have an extra! Why should they care?”

“Har. You are very funny! But perhaps you are also right.”

Late that night, while the whole camp slept, the two men crept to the birchbark shelter where the twins dreamed of all they would do back on their island. With a stealth surprising for his size, Babiche wiggled his hands and arms underneath the loose walls. He seized the twin closest to him, put his rough hand over the boy's mouth, and yanked him so quickly out under the birchbark wall that the other sleepers were not stirred.

Ever since she was a young girl, Omakayas had been visited in her dreams by a protective spirit, a bear woman. That night, the furry and powerful bear woman appeared. Omakayas dreamed that the bear woman crawled in beside her and curled up, speaking sleepily, for she was only now stirring from her winter hibernation.

“Omakayas, my child, your little ones are in danger. The hunters are coming....”

Omakayas woke with a start and stirred up the fire just enough to see. There was Nokomis, curled in her rabbit-skin blanket. And there was Zozie sleeping flat on her back underneath a trade blanket. Makoons was a lump entirely wrapped in another blanket, and next to him there was a lump too. But something about the lump did not look right.

Omakayas stirred the little fire into flames, causing Nokomis to sit up, blinking.

“Chickadee?”

There was no answer.

Omakayas went over to Chickadee's blanket, felt around the spot, and noticed that the birchbark wall was pulled up. At first she thought he had gone out to the bushes. She waited. Nokomis turned over, went back to sleep. Chickadee did not return. Omakayas's heart jolted in fear. My bear woman has spoken the truth! She woke Makoons.

“Mama?” He rubbed his eyes.

“Where is your brother?”

Makoons leaned over the empty blanket and tried to focus his sleepy eyes.

“Dibi'. I don't know where!”

In an instant, Omakayas was out the door, hoping that Chickadee had only slipped out on some midnight errand with a cousin. She went to every lodge, waking everyone. None of them had seen Chickadee.

Now the whole camp was out, including Zozie and Makoons. They called out for Chickadee. They made torches of pitch-tipped branches. Father Genin crawled out of his blankets and tried to help. Everyone searched the area. Everyone, that is, except Babiche and Batiste. John Zhigaag had crept out to poke his walking stick here and there in the leaves.

“Old Zhigaag! Where are your sons?” asked Nokomis.

“I don't know,” said Zhigaag.

“You know something,” said Nokomis. “Those two sons of yours have stolen Chickadee!”

“Stolen? Why, you couldn't give away that worthless boy,” said the old man. “Nobody would want him!”

“Then where is he?” said Nokomis. “And where are Babiche and Batiste? Answer me!”

“My sons may have gone back to the river,” replied Zhigaag. “They will catch some golden eyes when the river breaks up. They were hungry for golden eyes!”

“Hungry for fish in the middle of the night!”

Nokomis made ready to hit the old man again with her walking stick, but he threw himself on the ground and cried out, “Pity me! I have no one! My sons didn't even take me along!”

“Oh, you pity yourself enough,” said Nokomis.

Father Genin came over and helped the old man sit up.