Into the Wilderness (106 page)

"That's
when the real trouble started." Vertical lines appeared on either side of
Many-Doves ' mouth, set in a downward curve. "Kirby asked Chingachgook if
was he the one who shot the buck out of season, and of course he didn't deny
it." She paused, and glanced at the darkening sky. "Chingachgook told
Billy that it would have been disrespectful not to take an animal sent by the
Great Spirit, one who came so peacefully. And he said he wouldn't be locked up
in an O'seronni gaol for taking a gift. Then he just turned his back on those
men and walked away."

Before
Elizabeth could ask, Many-Doves shook her head. "They didn't shoot him.
Moses Southern took his rifle butt to the back of Chingachgook's head and then,
when he was down, he pulled his knife."

"I
assume Hawkeye was tied up by this time, or Moses would be dead now."

"Moses
is dead," said Many-Doves calmly. "Your father shot him."

* * *

They
stopped to water the horses and let them graze. Elizabeth sat on the bank and
put her bare feet in the cold running water; leaned down to scoop it into her
cupped palms to drench her face and neck again and again.

"I
think the judge just intended to slow Moses down," Many-Doves said. "But
he's never been much of a shot, and that smoothbore of his—well, you've seen it
before. A ball took Moses just over the ear. He died straight—away. Another
ball hit Chingachgook in the side, passed right through." And after a
longer pause in which
Elizabeth
said nothing: "Nobody blames the judge, not even Martha. He was there to
make sure things didn't get out of hand. I guess Moses took him by surprise,
and it got away from him."

"You
needn't make excuses for my father."

Many-Doves
was not unnerved by Elizabeth's anger. "If your father had not stopped
Southern, Ghingachgook would have died right there under his knife."

"If
my father had stopped the whole undertaking before it started, Chingachgook
would be whole and safe."

Many-Doves
blinked in surprise. "Do you think that Great—Snake would rather die in
front of a fire like an old woman?"

"I
don't know what he would want," Elizabeth said bitterly, wiping her face
dry with her skirt. "But I do know who has taken that decision out of his
hands. My brother's greed has exacted too high a price this time, and he shall
have to account for it."
 

"Your
brother was not with the men who came to Lake in the Clouds."

"But
he was, he was there. You could not see him, but his spirit was there.He put
the smell of silver in their noses, and cut them loose. And he did not care who
got run down in the hunt."

Many-Doves
chirruped softly to the horses and they raised their heads from grazing. They
needed a longer rest, but the women were anxious now to get back to
Paradise
and see this thing to its end. With the wagon
shuddering over the well—worn trail, Many-Doves finally spoke. "It is not
greed that rules Julian."

Elizabeth
had
never before heard Many-Doves use her brother's name; it was an act of intimacy
and ownership that surprised almost as much as what was to come.

"A
man with no center will try to fill the void that rules him. You call this greed—”

“You
surely are not excusing Julian's behavior!"

As if
Elizabeth
had
not interrupted, Many-Doves said: "He is dangerous because he does not
know how to help himself, except to take from others what can never do him any
good." Many-Doves sent Elizabeth a sliding glance. "Did you know what
name my mother gave him?"

"I
did not know that you and Falling—Day spoke of my brother at all."

"She
calls him Ratkahthos—ahsonthenne'."

Struck
silent,
Elizabeth
let the rhythm of the jostling wagon sway her from side to side.
He—Seeks—in—the—Dark.

They
rode in silence for the rest of the day,
Elizabeth
pushing with her feet against the splashboard until her knees ached. They came
to Barktown when the sky had turned to bruised purples over the cranberry
marshes. From the stores in the wagon they made presents to Sky—Wound—Round,
tobacco and dried meat. At his council fire they told the story of
Chingachgook, and the path that stood before him. But sleeping that night on a
platform under the arched roof of the Kahnyen’keháka long house it was not the
old man Elizabeth dreamed of, but her brother as a young boy, singing himself
to sleep in the dark.

* * *

The
first person she saw at Lake in the Clouds was one person she did not wish to
see, did not care to see ever again: her father. The judge stood on the porch
of Hawkeye's cabin in the twilight, staring into the waterfall. He did not seem
to hear them coming, although the exhausted horses lifted their heads to whinny
with excitement at the idea of fresh hay and rest. He simply stood there. Her
father, usually so meticulous about his person, was unshaven. His clothes,
rumpled and splashed with mud. When he finally turned his head toward her, she
saw that his eyes were sunken and red—rimmed.

"Daughter."
The muscles in his neck moved beneath the soft folds of flesh. His voice was
hoarse with disuse, or liquor. Or perhaps both, she thought.

"Father."
Elizabeth
climbed the porch and reached for the door.

"Wait."

She
obeyed; and chided herself for it.

"It
was an accident," he said."I admire Chingachgook above all men, I was
trying to save his life. You must believe me." And then, in response to
her silence, as deep as the dusk: "I wouldn't have thought you so
cruel."

She
drew in a ragged breath, all anger and frustration. "If you need
forgiveness, then it is not from me. Where is Hawkeye?"

The
judge turned his face from her. "He has three days left on his sentence.

"But
Nathaniel—he paid the fine, did he not? Was not your sentence hundred dollars
or seven days?"

"The
sentence was a hundred dollars and seven days. As set out by law."

"Well,
then, if you truly want to be forgiven, you must commute his sentence."

The
judge's face contorted. "I would, daughter. If I could."

"No,
Father. You could, if you would. But you will not risk the anger of the
villagers. Is that right?"

"I
am bound by the law," he said, two patches of red rising on his cheeks.

"How
convenient. Now if you will excuse me."

Many-Doves
came around the corner from the barn just as the door opened. Runs-from-Bears
held out one hand toward her and she ran up the porch steps and into his arms.
Elizabeth
slipped past
them with her head averted, but she could not help but hear his soft murmuring.

Curiosity
stood on the far side of the main room, working a pestle and mortar. Falling—Day
was at the hearth with a ladle in her hand. In the middle of the room was a
cot, on which Chingachgook lay, his hands folded on his stomach. His face was
turned from her, but his chest rose and fell fitfully.

On
the edge of his cot, Hannah perched with a book in her hands.
 
Her voice broke off in mid—sentence when she
looked up.

She
was just tall enough to rest her head in the hollow spot between
Elizabeth
's breasts. She
smelled of wood smoke and growing things, and she trembled slightly, in fear or
relief, Elizabeth could not tell. She only knew that her throat was tight with
joy at this greeting, in spite of the news written clearly on Curiosity's face.

Falling—Day
murmured words of welcome to Elizabeth and to her daughter, who had come
farther into the room to kneel next to the cot. Hannah pulled away, gently, and
joined Many-Doves , picking up her book to find her place.
Poor
Richard's Almanac
,
Elizabeth
saw now.

Curiosity
laid a hand on
Elizabeth
's
arm.

"How
much longer?"

She
lifted a shoulder, inclined her head. "Tonight, I'd say."

"Where
is Nathaniel?"

"He
went to fetch Hawkeye."

"But
I thought—”

“Maybe
you can stop him," said Curiosity, "if you hurry."

* * *

Headed
down the path from Lake in the Clouds at a fast clip and lost in her worries,
Elizabeth was taken by surprise at the arm that shot out of the dark behind the
church and caught her up. Even knowing it was Nathaniel, a small cry of alarm
escaped her, to be stifled immediately against his shirt.

He
set her firmly on her feet and then pinned her up against the wall of the
church. She was breathing hard; he kissed her, harder.

"Nathaniel!"
she hissed, breaking away.

"I'm
glad to see you home safe, Boots. Although I have to say your timing ain't
optimal." He touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb and she caught
his hand, held it there.

"Nathaniel,
tell me you're not here to break Hawkeye out of Anna's pantry."

He
hushed her, pulling her farther away from the path. There were voices, coming
closer. Men on their way to Axel's tavern, where the noise indicated some party
well under way.
Elizabeth
waited until the pressure of his fingers on her arm relaxed. Then she took his
face between her hands and made him look at her.

"It
will do us no good if they lock you up, too," she said, keeping her eyes
fixed on his. "Come back home with me. Your grandfather will be asking for
you."

Nathaniel
caught her hands and pushed them down, firmly. "He'll be asking for my
father, too, and I aim to make sure he's there."

"Please,
be reasonable. There is no window big enough for him to climb through. Anna
sleeps in the next room, and the tavern is right there—it's impossible. They
must have posted a guard."

"Aye,"
Nathaniel agreed with a grim smile. "Liam Kirby, asleep on stool with his
hat pulled over his eyes."

Elizabeth
tried to calm her voice, seeking frantically for that logic which would reach
him. "Nathaniel, it sounds as though every man in the village is in the
tavern."

Bursts
of singing came to them on the warm evening breeze, interrupted by raised
voices and an occasional shouted laugh.

"They
buried Southern today," Nathaniel offered in explanation. "It's an
Irish wake they've got going on."

"Oh,
lovely, then they are in a rare mood. Think, please. Even if you manage it
somehow, they will come looking for him—and for you—immediately."

Nathaniel
stared down at her sternly, his eyes narrowed.

Elizabeth
knew
that she was saying things he didn't want to hear, but that he couldn't deny.
She recognized the expression on his face, although she had never seen him
wearing it before. It was a look she knew too well: all her life, she had seen
it on the faces of men when she asked yet another question, or made that final
observation, the one that dug too deep and hit a nerve. Slowly, reluctantly,
Elizabeth had begun to trust the fact that he liked her the way she was, that
he could cope with a woman with a mind of her own without losing his sense of
himself as a man. And now, here it was. That look.

She
watched him struggle with it. He would either talk to her, and they would
resolve this, or he would try to send her home.

The
muscles in his throat began to work convulsively. His face, his beloved face,
all angles and planes. The scar at the corner of his eye; the straight line of
his brow. It all dissolved as she watched, anger and stubbornness giving way to
something she had never imagined: desperation. The kind of bone—deep
desperation that made other men—not Nathaniel, never Nathanielinto little boys.

"
Elizabeth
." His
voice came harsh with the effort of it, of showing her this. "It'll kill
my father. It will kill him, not being there when Chingachgook walks the path.
I know my father, Elizabeth. And I cannot leave him sitting in that gaol, and
live with myself. Not tonight, not for another day. Don't ask me to walk away
from this, because I can't."

Elizabeth
pressed a hand to her mouth. Then she said: "I will go talk to the judge.
He cannot be so cruel as to keep Hawkeye from his father's deathbed."

He
groaned in frustration. "Don't you see? Kirby would raise an army to stop
him."

She
searched his face for the truth. "Are things so far gone here, then? Do
they hate us so much?"

He
had no words for her; for once, Nathaniel had no comfort to offer.Elizabeth
stood up straighter, and glanced toward the tavern.

"I
will go in there and speak to Kirby. Perhaps I can appeal to his better
instincts.