Dances Naked (17 page)

He was sure James and Leah had found their way to her mother. They had brought the necessary medical supplies and skills with them so Ian Kincaid would survive to sire Bibb’s ancestors all the way down to James: his and Bibb’s child. Children, sons, he had two sons alive now and the urgency to get back to the ch
ild, no, he was now a young man,
whom he had never met
,
was starting to choke him, to cut off his air supply. “Ergh!” he grunted in frustration
,
and then realized that it
was an audible exclamation—
he hadn’t just been thinking it.

“Sorry,” he said to Red Shirt
who was looking at him
to see why he was making noises. Red Shirt gave him the ‘whatever’ look then kicked his pony in the flanks, picking up their pace. He wanted to get back to his family, too.

After a couple of hours of the quickened pace and one rest stop for another clear, aqueous meal: cold water, Red Shirt put his hand up for them to stop. He dismounted but indicated to Dances Naked that he should stay in the saddle. He pointed with his whole hand, shooing the air in front of him with the
back of his fingers to indicate, ‘Get going.’

Marty patted the lining of his vest then looked back at his friend. “I’ll be quick about it then,” he said in farewell.

He was just a few hundred yards from where the two of them had stopped when he saw the first signs of people: smoke from a fire. He wanted to race the nag to civilization, or at least to white people who would speak English
,
but trotted the horse to save her stamina. He wanted her to look good when he got there. He didn’t want to present himself as a desperate man. People from all time eras had a tendency to take advantage of those in need
or
with only a few coins. He may not have pants but
,
hopefully
,
his bearing would override that little shortcoming.

“Hey, there,” Marty called out
to
the man walk
ing
outside
toward
the little outbuilding behind the
long,
log
house.

“Hey,” the man replied in a congenial manner, “Be right with ye. I have a bit of important business to take care of first.”

Marty realized that his first impression was correct. That tidy little shed really was an outhouse.
“
A wooden seated privy,
”
he sighed. “Lord, what I wouldn’t do for inside plumbing…oops, sorry, Lord,” he said softly. “It’s just the hunger talking. Please guide me in this transaction
to
get food for these people and keep Bibb and Billy and James and Leah safe. And
,
sorry I haven’t been talking to you lately. Oh, here he comes, Amen.”

“So, are ye a priest or a preacher?” the amiable man asked as he exited the privy. “I heard ye talkin’ to the Lord so I figured ye must be one of them.”

“No, no,” Marty admitted, “I just know He’s the man in charge and I was asking Him for some help in my shopping here today. I need as many food supplies as I can get with these few coins,” he added as he traced the slight bulge in the lining of his vest. “I have quite a few in my family and we’re just about all out of food.”

“Well, come on in and let’s see what we have. I’m Michael, by the way. Ye dinna happen to have any furs to trade, do ye? I could do better with furs than with the coin. I have a buyer for the furs but
,
with this confounded war going on, not many trappers are workin’ the rivers and streams. They’re too busy shootin’ at each other!” The tall, wiry
,
silver-haired storekeeper brushed some yellow grit from the front of his apron. “But if yer needin’ cornmeal, I can probably do ye a good deal on that. It seems like everyone that’s come in lately has that to trade. Come to think about it, yer coin might be useful in another matter. The tinker’s due through here before the snow falls. He likes the coin and I’m pretty sure he’s had his fair share of cornmeal, too,” he said then laughed heartily.

Marty stooped over and retrieved his boot knife then brought it up to his vest. He cut a few stitches and six coins fell out of their discreet binding. “How much will this get me?” Marty asked. “And remember, I have a big family.”

“I can do, hmm, let’s say four of the big bags of cornmeal
,
and do ye need any flour?” he asked.

“
Some f
lour and a ham
if you have one, or even bacon—
yes, definitely bacon. I don’t need any coffee or sugar but I’m totally out of salt,” Mart
y babbled. He was getting light-
headed from lack of food. “And can I have some of those candies? I’d like a peppermint right now if you don’t mind. My stomach’s, um, a little upset.”
Marty realized he wasn’t lying—
his stomach was upset, with him, for not putting any food in it all day.

“Here ye go,” Michael said as he handed him a round
, striped candy. “But I’m sorry.
F
er jest these few coins, I canna be lettin’ ye have the meat. Ye can have the cornmeal and a bag of the flour and a bit of salt
,
but no meat. No charge fer the candy I jest gave ye
,
but no more.”

Marty set his knife on the counter then opened out the other side of his vest. He picked up the knife again, made another slit, and extracted six more coins. “Ham and bacon?” he asked as he pushed the coins toward Michael, “and a few candies?” he added with a pepperminty smile.

“Yer a sly one, ye are,” Michael chortled. “Aye, a couple, no, I’ll make that three rashers of bacon and a bag of the candies
,
but I only have the one ham and I was savin’ it fer a wedding. That is if my daughter ever gets married!” he said with a mixture of mirth and frustration.

“You’re sure that’s the best you can do for the twelve coins: cornmeal, flour,
salt, bacon and a few candies?
How about cabbages or potatoes? I could carry those and they’d sure make a fine stew, if I had some meat,” Marty hinted. “Or oats, surely a fine man like you, Scottish, aye, would have a nice, big bag of rolled oats to offer to feed my starvin’ family.”

“How many did ye say were in yer family?” Michael asked before committing to adding any more supplies for the twelve coins. He enjoyed the bartering and didn’t mind making a healthy profit
,
but this man did look needy and a bit of alms given to a poor family would make him look good in the eyes of the Lord.

“Well, we had some sickness and death just recently and a birth so,” Marty drew out the drama and started counting on his fingers, adding wit
h a smile the new child, Junior;
then
frowned
at a loss, Number Two’s wife. “Including me and the in-laws and old grandma
,
there’s thirteen. We’re down to our last bag of cornmeal and that’ll probably be gone by the time I get back. We’ve been having naught but water for some meals,” Marty said sincerely, his stomach grumbling in agreement with his dissertation.

“Weel, I guess I can throw in a bag of the tatties and I have a few more cabbages than we need. Do ye think ye could use a few
onions? I had a great harvest of
those and I’d rather give them away than have them sit around and spoil
,
waitin’ fer spring.”

“Well, that’s mighty generous of you, Michael. We would all appreciate it. As a matter of fact, I may just
give
the next child born your name. I mean, without your generosity, we might not make it ‘to’ winter much less ‘through’ winter.”

Michael tried to hide the smile of pride that he felt
:
someone was going to name a child after him for giving
him
his extra food, but couldn’t contain his excitement and went ahead and let loose his grin. “Weel, I jest hope it’s a boy. With a name like Michael, a lass might get teased a bit,” he said joyfully as he gathered the empty, used calico flour bags from the corner. “I’ll be right back with the vegetables; they’re in the cold cellar.”

Marty waited until the spirited storekeeper was out of sight
then said a quick prayer. “Thank you, Lord, for the bounty. And may he be as blessed by You as he has been a blessing to us.”

Michael stopped short as he heard the words. He was going to load the rotted cabbages and potatoes on the bottom of the bags; he didn’t want to throw those into the compost pit if he could make a profit on them, but changed his mind. The blessing he had just received could be turned into a curse for doing a bad deed. “Sorry, Lord
,
fer the bad intent,” he said under his breath then filled the bags with the prime fruits of the autumn’s harvest. He left the bags on the porch and came back inside. “I’ll jest sew these bags up so they don’t spill and ye can be on yer way to yer family. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see ye.”

“Me and the food!” Marty proclaimed then laughed. He brought his emotions down a couple of levels and got serious. “I have a fine saddle out there and, um, I know you said that you were saving the ham for your daughter’s wedding, if she has one this year, but do you think that you’d consider trading the ham for my saddle?
I mean, you and I know that it
’s worth a lot more
,
but I really would like to bring home some meat. The hunting hasn’t been very, oh well, I haven’t shot a deer in so long
,
I don’t know if I’d know what to do with one,” Marty said in exasperation. It was the truth and he knew it showed. He didn’t want or need the saddle but did want to insure that
,
even if they didn’t get any game in the next few months, his new little tribe wouldn’t starve to death.

Michael walked out and inspected the saddle. The horse wasn’t the greatest but the saddle was quite nice. “The saddlebags, too?” Michael asked warily. He knew it was a great deal even without them.

Marty sighed deeply. He was pro
bably being taken advantage of—
no, he definitely was
—
but he wanted to get the deal done and get the ham and other food back to Red Shirt then to the others. “If you truly, honestly believe that it’s a good trade, my saddle and saddlebags for one ham, then I’ll do it. But just remember, in the words of my father and his father before him,
‘What goes around, comes around
.
’
” Marty saw the confused look on the trader’s face so explained further. “How you treat me is how you will be treated in the future, aye?”

Michael’s neck pulled back in shock. He never thought of it that way. “Oh, of course I’ll give you some beans to go with the ham. I mean, that’s the second best part of the ham, having ham and beans for the next six meals!”

Marty pulled the saddle and saddlebags off the mare and repositioned the saddle blanket while Michael went to his cold cellar
to
retrieve not one but two hams. They weren’t the biggest ones he had, they were actually quite modest, but there were two of them. As Marty arranged his
bounty on the back of the mare, now his pack
horse, Michael brought out two more bags. “I forgot about the oats. The wee’uns need to have their porritch. And dinna forget about namin’ the next child Michael, now, hear?” the wiry man said with a grin.

“And if it’s a lass, we can always call her Michelle,” Marty said as he stuck out his hand for a proper handshake to seal to the deal. He threw the bag of oats over one shoulder and the beans over the other. The horse was loaded with enough food to feed Red Shirt’s little tribe for months. It was a good day.

M

arty looked like a colorful two-
legged camel as he portaged the two bulging, reclaimed calico flour sacks: rolled oats over one shoulder and beans over the other. He strode joyfully
ahead of the grocery-laden horse;
chin out with pride. He beamed as he realized that he was doi
ng more than fine—
he was alive, alert, able to walk
,
and had a
destination. The mare was well watered
and so was he. He had taken the opportunity to drink right alongside his equine lady friend before they left. She had taken advantage of a free meal, nibbling the tough grass that had sprouted up next to the trough
,
while he was inside bartering. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food. At least the mare’s stomach could handle the ancient, golden spr
outs. He wasn’t that desperate—
yet. He’d bide and wait to get back to camp to eat with the others.

Marty turned and waved good-bye one more time to Michael then headed into the dense scrub.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
His hopes had been fulfilled:
he had food for his friends. Family. Both. He shook his
head gently in dismay—h
is thoughts weren’t coming together like they should. Instead of progressing in a straight line, they were flitting around like drunken butterflies. It was nothing to worry
about though. He knew the cause:
he was lightheaded from the lack of food.