Salt (2 page)
Authors: Helen Frost
going back to my house and the fort. Huh? What's that deep hole?
Looks like a person dug it. We step up for a closer look and jump backâ
a man we've never seen before is standing in the hole, watching us!
When I get home,
Grandma's cutting deer meat
into strips she's hanging on the drying rack.
I show her the fish I caught. She smiles.
Some for now, and some to salt
and save for winter
.
We'll need more
salt before too long,
she says.
Grandma,
I say,
I saw a man.
She looks up.
Standing in a hole,
I tell her,
near where the trail divides.
He's not from here. Do you know who he is?
She thinks about it.
I saw an Ojibwe man walking on that trail yesterday,
she says.
Maybe
he wants to see what's happening here.
She doesn't seem scared.
She needs more hickory woodâher fire's almost outâ
so I say,
Toontwa, let's get firewood for Grandma.
Toontwa likes to eatâa lotâbut he doesn't
like to carry firewood.
I saw foxes
playing behind the big rock,
I tell him.
We could
look for their den.
That gets him
interested.
How many?
he asks.
Five,
I say.
I pick up my wood-carrying basket and walk off.
He follows with his basket like I
hoped he would.
Ma asks,
What did you see today?
I tell her about a dead turtle in the creek,
and a tree that fell across the trail, but I don't mention the man, or the hole
he must've dug. Ma might get worried and say I can't go out by myself.
She's cutting up the fish when Pa comes in and sits down at the table.
Look what James brought home!
she says.
Nice-looking trout,
says Pa.
Where
did you catch it, Son?
I could pretend I caught it. But I know better than to
lie to Pa. That's one thing he won't abide.
Anikwa caught it,
I admit.
Ma says,
Next time his aunt and uncle come to trade, give them a little extra.
Ma calls Mink and Old Raccoon Anikwa's aunt and uncle, but Anikwa
calls Old Raccoon his father. From what I can tell, Miami children
have a lot of parents. That's good if your ma and pa die, like his did.
His mother died of smallpox when he was two years old, and then
a year later, his father got killed.
In a skirmish,
Pa said.
That's like a war,
but smaller
. Makes me wonder: Who'd take care of me if Pa and Ma died?
This lacrosse stick
is too big for me, but I like to use it
because it was my father's. Grandma tells me,
He was the best lacrosse player I ever saw.
He was so good, he could
make it seem like his
younger brother
was as good as he was.
I wish I remembered him better.
They say his voice was like strong music.
Everyone loved to listen to him speak. When people
started arguing, he said what he thought, and then stayed quiet
while other people spoke. People listened to him, and thought
carefully about anything he said.
His words,
Father says,
rose to the top, when we had to make hard decisions
about war or treatiesâwhat to do
when all the changes came
across our land.
At first,
new kinds of sickness, then
a different kind of peopleâstarting with men,
who soon brought families. Then soldiers, and the fort.
Like the bees that flew in from the east
and settled on our flowers
.
I'm going out fishing, alone, when here comes Isaac:
Where you going?
Dang.
I was hoping to catch a lot of fish and give one to Anikwa. I never see him
when Isaac's with me. Don't want to be mean, so I tell Isaac where I'm headed.
He walks along beside me, talking, talking, talking.
There's gonna be a war here.
Not sure I'm supposed to tell you. Your pa and ma might not want you to know.
Like he's old enough to know about it, and I'm notâI'm older than he is!
Course I heard about it,
I say, even though I haven't. I keep quiet, hoping
he'll say more, and he does:
My pa says the Indians are on the British side
.
That can't be true.
You don't know what you're talking about,
I blurt out.
They've been our friends since Ma was a girl. Her grandpa traded with them!
He shakes his head.
I know what I'm talking about, but you don't,
he says.
I bet you don't even know about the siege.
I shrug, like I know but I don't care.
The Indians might block the fort,
he says,
so we can't get out until the British come.
Then they'll all join up and attack us.
Trying to act like he knows everything.
Kwaahkwa
and I came to this quiet
place to fish. We listen to the river
whisper in that soft, low voice
it has sometimes. There's
a pair of bluebirds
singing
on a low branch of the oak.
Two fish arc out of the water near
the eddy, showing us exactly where they are.
Then, over by that sycamore that fell last year, a big
bullfrog starts up talking like a drum. I answer, and he
answers back. And then we hear something elseâ
James's quiet voice, Isaac's scratchy loud one.
It sounds like they're arguing. Everything
except the river and the frog stops
talking. The bluebirds fly
away, the ducks dive
underwater.
We move into the shadows,
crouch down behind a rock, and watch.
Not exactly hiding, just staying quiet, listening
and keeping our eyes
open.
Isaac keeps trying to show off how much he knows.
Don't worry, James,
he says (he thinks I'm scared),
the Americans might get here first. Pa told me
our army is bigger than the British army. But if the Indians join the British,
we're done for.
He slices his hand across his throat. I know how to scare him:
lead him past the hole I saw when I was with Anikwa. If that man's still
standing in it, Isaac will jump out of his skin. Better not, though. He'd tell
his ma, and she'd tell mine, and they'd make us stay inside the stockade
where they could keep an eye on us. I'd hate that. We're walking by the river,
near where Anikwa gave me the fish, when Isaac comes to a sudden stop.
Look!
He points.
Over there by that tree!
He picks up a rock and throws it
as hard as he can.
I think I hit it!
He runs over, leans down, and holds up
a dead bullfrog, so proud of himself.
Isaac,
I ask,
what'd you do that for?
That frog didn't hurt you.
He stares at me.
For fun,
he says.
How come you
never like to have fun?
I look aroundâI sure hope Anikwa isn't watching.
Splash!
The frog stops talking.
Did it jump out of the way in time?
Did it sink down in the mud?
Orâdid that rock hit it?
I lean back so I can
see: Isaac
lifts the bullfrog
from the water at the river's edge.
The frog's legs (strong enough to cross a creek
in two jumps) dangle from his hands. Isaac smiles like
he's in a war against the frogs and he just won a battle. I grab
a rock to throw at
him
, but Kwaahkwa says,
You know
frogs taste good. That boy gets
hungry, just like us.
Then Isaac swings the bullfrog by its legs,
around and around, over his head.
He's about to throw it
in the deep part
of the river.
No one will have that frog
for supper. I jump up and run to try
to stop him, or catch the frog, but it goes flying
through the air just before I
grab Isaac's arm.
Isaac and Anikwa slip in the mud and end up in the river. I didn't see
which one pushed first, but they could both get pulled downriver.
Who should I help? I pick up a long branch and lie down on the bank
to hold it out. Isaac reaches it firstâhe grabs it and pulls himself up.
Anikwa is still in the water, sputtering from all the water in his nose
(and because he's mad about that frog, I bet). I don't see Kwaahkwa
coming until he reaches out to Anikwa, pulls him out of the water,
and starts talking fastânot sure what they're saying, but it looks
like Anikwa would push Isaac back in the river if Kwaahkwa didn't
stop him. Anikwa takes off his moccasins, squeezes out the water, and
puts them back on, glaring at Isaac the whole time. He walks away with
Kwaahkwa, glancing at the river where the dead frog floats downstream.
Isaac shakes himself like a dog trying to get dry.
See?
he says to me.
That boy just attacked me for no reason! I told you they're not on our side.
The earth lifts and tilts.
Water flows
from high ground
to low, around
and under rock.
Salt carried by water
moves through sand.
Salt and sand
through time,
pressed into stone.
Seven raccoon,
one fox, four otter, sixteen beaver,
two deer. Their meat has fed us; now Father
counts the pelts he'll trade. Grandma has
a basket of maple sugar. Toontwa
has a rabbit skin and I have
two skunk pelts.
Mink made three extra
pairs of moccasins to trade. Now
we're ready. We start down the trail, talking
about what we need: a pair of socks, a ball of twine,
a new blade for the ax. A copper cooking pot. Needles, thread.
Cotton cloth. Red, blue, and yellow ribbons.
Salt?
asks Mink.
Father scowls and says,
When I was a boy, we walked
to the salt licks
,
or our Shawnee friends brought
salt
when they came to visit. I don't like
to buy it from the traders.
Mink is quiet.
We have to have saltâ
without it, we get sick when we work
in the hot sun. But she understands.
We'll get salt
next time,
she says. A blackbird flies past.
Aya, niihka,
I say.
Hello, friend.
Anikwa comes up the trail with his family. I haven't seen him since Isaac
killed the bullfrogâis he mad? At me?
Hello,
I say. He answers,
Aya ⦠niihka
.
He names the pelts he's carrying.
Paapankamwa
(fox).
Amehkwa
(beaver).
And othersâtoo many words to remember. I carry a basket for his grandma,
and she smiles and calls me
myaamiinse
âthat means “Miami child.” This basket
is full of maple sugar, and she always has a little extra. While they're trading,
Anikwa plays a tune on a willow whistle. Could I make one? I point to the whistle
and take out my knife. We go find a willow tree, and Anikwa shows me how
to cut a stick at an angle, make a notch through the bark, and tap the stick all over
so the bark comes loose and slips right off. After I slice off a piece of wood
to make a mouthpiece, he helps me cut another notch and slide the bark back on.
I put the whistle to my mouth and blowâit works! The sound it makes is lower
than Anikwa's. He plays fast, and I play slow; soft, loud, then soft again.
We sound so good, two yellow birds stop to listen and sing along with us.
When we
walk into the trading post
playing our whistles, they've finished
with their trading. Grandma saved
some maple sugar, and gives
us each a big piece
(a tiny piece
for baby Molly). James's father
gives us each a stick of licorice candyâ
it tastes like flowers and honey mixed together,
and I suck on mine as we start home. So does Toontwa.
But Rain Bird puts hers in her pocket without even tasting it!
She's never done that before. What's wrong with her?
Mink glances a quick question at Grandma,
who raises her eyebrows for a second
