Into the Wilderness (83 page)

Made—of—Bones
came twice a day to feed Nathaniel infusions and to tend his wound, bringing
along a steady dialogue which required no reply, and in fact would tolerate
none. Elizabeth watched carefully and even asked a question on occasion, which
seemed not to please the old woman, or to displease her, either.

With
every passing day Elizabeth felt stronger and more sure of herself in the
village, understanding a little more of the rhythms of the place, and a
surprising amount of the language. She ate with huge and unapologetic appetite.
Some of the Kahnyen’keháka food was unusual and she knew that in the past she
would have surely turned away from it; in fact, her affronted stomach could not
always keep it down. At night she sometimes woke with hunger pangs, but with
Nathaniel's heartbeat in her ear and the smells and sounds of the
Kahnyen’keháka all around her, she would sleep again, at ease.

On
the tenth morning there was a heavy rain falling. The others seemed not to mind
the weather, going on about the business of preparing for the Strawberry
Festival, which was planned for the next day, but bringing in some work that
was normally done out of doors. Elizabeth had had enough of rain, and was
content to stay under the roof.

Made—of—Bones
had assigned one of her granddaughters, a serious young woman by the name of
Splitting—Moon, to look after their needs. She brought them food, offering the
bowls with downturned eyes and few words. Other young women had soon begun to
find excuses to come by and talk to Elizabeth, in short and sometimes awkward
conversations, but Splitting—Moon had nothing to say to her. Sometimes, when
she looked up, Elizabeth found the younger woman watching her.

This
morning she accepted a bowl of beans and cornmeal bread from Splitting—Moon,
who barely acknowledged Elizabeth's thanks and did not meet Nathaniel's eye at
all.

"Nathaniel?"
Elizabeth asked thoughtfully when she had gone. "Splitting—Moon doesn't go
out to the fields with the other women?"

He
glanced up from his food and shrugged his shoulders. "Made—of—Bones is
training her as Ononkwa," he said.
Medicine
woman
. "She spends her time gathering herbs and roots and whatever
else she and He—Who—Dreams need for medicines."

"I
am afraid we are a burden to her. Should I offer to help with her work?"
Elizabeth had been grinding corn for the last days, an unskilled task she could
do while talking to Nathaniel.

"I
don't think it will set her more at ease, if that's your intention."

"Her
silence does unsettle me a bit. Is it me she minds serving, do you think?"

Nathaniel
had an uneasy look about him. "It's got nothing to do with you, Boots. Or
at least not directly. It's me she's uncomfortable with. There's some history
between us," he finished.

Elizabeth
had a sudden unwelcome memory of Jack Lingo, and his claims about Nathaniel.
She put her bowl down. "What do you mean by 'history,’ exactly?"

She
had the surprised satisfaction—for there was no other word—of watching
Nathaniel become flustered. "It don't mean a thing, anymore. But a few
years back I brought Falling—Day and Many-Doves up here to visit, and I spent
some time with Splitting—Moon. She wasn't happy when I left."

Nathaniel
lowered his voice, and his eyes. "I was lonely, you see. It had been a few
years since Sarah, and I suppose I let my guard down." He cleared his
throat and looked up at her. "To be truthful, I ain't especially proud of
the whole thing. She did me a good turn, but she wanted things from me couldn't
give her."

Elizabeth
considered this information, and found herself strangely detached from it, with
only the vaguest stirring of jealousy. The serious young woman with her
straight back and beautiful, glowing skin had shared Nathaniel's bed, and had
at one time thought to claim him. But he had left her, and gone back to
Paradise to live without the company of a woman.

"And
you? Were you happy to leave?"

He
was watching her face closely. "I like it here, but I was ready to move on
home."

"And
I'm glad that you did," she said simply. He smiled at her, and then his
face clouded again.

"It
ain't kind of Made—of—Bones to make her spend so much time near us," he
said. He seemed to be on the verge of telling her more, but voices rose
suddenly at the far end of the long house and three young boys appeared. They
ran, dodging fires and tools and children at play, to come to a breathless halt
in front of the clan mother's fire. The old woman and Splitting—Moon had been
sorting through baskets of dried plants, but Made—of—Bones looked up at the
boys with a kind of irritable affection, and allowed them to speak.

Their
story was told in three voices, simultaneously. Elizabeth had caught only
isolated words when a translation became unnecessary, for a group of men had
appeared at the bearskin door. The tallest and foremost of them was a
frightening sight, with hooded eyes and a ragged scar which ran from his scalp
down the left side of his face. His head was shaved for war, and like the
scout, scalps hung on his belt. He was every horror tale that had ever been
told about Indians, and then he grinned and produced two dimples which belied
the impression entirely.

Nathaniel
was rising, with a smile of his own. "Spotted—Fox," he said.
"And his trading party, back from albany. They brought us out of the
bush." He glanced at Elizabeth apologetically. "I have to—”

“Go
on," she said. "I understand." But Nathaniel was already gone.

* * *

The
village erupted into a new kind of activity. The men had come back from trading
the winter's furs, their canoes loaded with provisions of all kinds. There was
a profusion of materials to sort out and store according to the instructions of
the three clan mothers, as well as the Strawberry Festival on the next day.
Young people had been assigned the gathering of the fruit, and it seemed
impossible to step anywhere without danger of putting a foot into a basket of
strawberries. They were being crushed for juice, and the heavy, sweet scent
hung in the air.

Nathaniel
came to find Elizabeth as soon as he could remove himself from the storytelling
of the traders. He found her grinding corn, with Robbie at her side and the red
dog at her feet. She looked up at him with her eyes softly shining, and
Nathaniel felt a familiar stirring. They had not come together since the day
Joe died, three weeks ago now. It seemed like much longer. In the night the
smell of her had often pulled him aroused and eager from his sleep, but thus
far he had resisted his growing need. She was still very fragile and easily
startled, and content with kisses. Although he thought that soon she would want
more.

"And
how did they get on, the laddies?" Robbie asked. "No trouble withe
exciseman?

Elizabeth
laughed out loud in surprise. "In this of all places I cannot imagine that
they would have such a problem."

Nathaniel
and Robbie exchanged glances. "We're a half day's ride from
Montreal," Nathaniel pointed out. "And the English ain't thrilled
with the Kahnyen’keháka running fur into New—York."

He
watched her working through this information. "They trap in Canada and
smuggle furs to Albany for a better price," she concluded.

Robbie
grinned at her. "Ye've got the richt of it, lassie. And a unco lucrative business
it is, too, but bluidy dangerous for a' that."

"They
shave their heads," she noted. "As if they were at war."

Nathaniel
said, "Stone—Splitter has managed to keep his village intact and well
provisioned because he is always at war, Boots. He has always gone his own way
and his people have survived for it. You see this place is much better off than
Barktown."

"Hmmm."
Elizabeth had to agree with that observation, but still she was uneasy. "I
wouldn't want to be here if the English raid," she said, working the
pestle more forcefully into the curve of the bowl.

"On
that account ye ne edna worra, lassie." Robbie stretched and stood.
"The English are no' aboot tae come doon here an' pester Stone—Splitter.
They dinna like the tradin' he does, but they do depend on his braves in the
event o' war."

"Another
war? Between England and America? Unlikely," Elizabeth noted.

Robbie
looked thoughtful. "Aye, weel. Ye've mair faith in yer countrymen than do
I. But in the meantime there's celebratin' tae do. Strawberries, ye ken. The
wee seeds do stick in ma pegs, but I canna resist, for a' that. I can wed
resist anythin', except temptation." He winked at her. "And then o'
course, there's the dancin'."

Elizabeth
smiled. "Will you be dancing, Sergeant MacLachlan?"

He
laughed, his strong white teeth flashing. "Wait an' see, ma lassie, and
these auld bones may just surprise you." Robbie paused on the way out, and
turned back to Elizabeth.

"Wad
ye mind ower much if I tak the wee dog wi' me? She and I get on richt
well," he said, somewhat apologetically. Treenie cast her a sheepish look
of her own and Elizabeth waved her on, amused.

When
they had gone, Nathaniel sat down next to Elizabeth and slipped an arm around
her waist. She paused for a moment in her work, and then tipped more corn
kernels into the bowl.

"And
what about you?" he asked, breathing on the soft pink lobe of her ear.
"Will you be dancing, Mrs. Bonner?"

She
snorted and pushed him away. "Not very likely," she said, laughing.

"And
not even for your husband?"

"Don't
you mean,
with
your husband?"
she asked, keeping her eyes on her task.

"No,"
he said. "The women's dance is just that. For the women to dance and the
men to watch." He turned her face to him and kissed her lightly, taking
considerable enjoyment in the way she grew flustered.

"It's
daylight, Nathaniel," she whispered. "And there are people
about."

"But
it won't be daylight forever, Boots."

"Your
injury," she said, faltering.

He
ran a hand up her side, his fingers gently probing. "Let that be my
concern," he said. "Unless you're saying you don't want me?"

"No!"
She glanced around them, her color high. "I didn't say that."

"Then
you do want me."

She
pursed her mouth at him, in exasperation and something else, perhaps relief or
pleasure. Then she nodded. "When we have some ... privacy."

Nathaniel
rose to his feet. "The rain's stopped, and I'm off to have a talk with
Stone—Splitter," he said. "Will you come along?"

Elizabeth
looked down into her bowl, and back up at him.

"Please
come." He amended his question, and she took his hand and let herself be
drawn up.

* * *

The
sachem was sitting on a blanket in the sun, surrounded by piles of silver and
copper coins. With him were Spotted—Fox and the faith keeper, He—Who—Dreams,
who drew on a long pipe as he watched Stone—Splitter count. Elizabeth
recognized other men, some of them by name now. They were talking quietly among
themselves. They neither stared at her nor ignored her, and after a while she
was able to simply listen to Nathaniel as he talked.

The
sachem threw a pinch of tobacco onto the fire, a ceremonial gesture that
Elizabeth recognized as an honor to Nathaniel, who then thanked Stone—Splitter
for his help and hospitality, and finally announced their plans to leave the
village on the day after the Strawberry Festival.

When
Nathaniel had finished, the sachem spoke, glancing now and then at Elizabeth.

"He
wants to talk to you directly," Nathaniel said. "He will try to do it
in English."

Elizabeth
was sitting across from He—Who—Dreams, who nodded to her without taking the
pipe from his mouth. She glanced also at Spotted—Fox, trying not to stare
openly at his scars, the mangled ear and the deep puckered valley that dragged
his eye down at the outer corner.

The
sachem regarded her for some time, and then he spoke to her in an English
undercut with French. "Tell me of your school, and your students."

Taken
by surprise, Elizabeth took a moment to gather her thoughts. "It is a
small school," she began. "All children in the village are welcome to
come and learn. It is my belief that each of them, white or Kahnyen’keháka or
black, is entitled to an education. I would welcome any child of this village
to my classroom."

Stone—Splitter
turned to Nathaniel and asked for an explanation in his own language, which
took a long time. Then he turned back to Elizabeth.

"And
you are the teacher?" he asked.

She
nodded.

Stone—Splitter
looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Bone—in—Her—Back,"
he began. "We see you. You are a good woman. You have brought
Wolf—Running—Fast the land he needs to keep his people safe. You have shown
great courage in the bush. You killed the O'seronni who walked with the
Windigo, a ghost—man who has caused the Kahnyen’keháka much sorrow, and you
show us respect and a willingness to learn our ways. We see no fault in you but
your pride."