Fire Along the Sky
Page 27
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“You're too modest,” Nathaniel said. He brushed the wet from the falls out of his eyes. “I bet if you concentrated real hard you'll guess my next question.”
Luke gave him a sharp look, one edged with curiosity and irritation both. “If it's Jennet you're worried about there's no need. I'm planning to talk to her tonight and settle some things.”
Nathaniel raised a brow. “Reading minds again.”
Luke shrugged. “More Elizabeth than you. She watches me when Jennet's nearby.”
“That's true, she does. And I did come to talk to you about that very thing, but I can't claim I was especially worried about Jennet. She's got what she wants.”
Luke squinted at him. “And that would be?”
“You. Tied up nice and neat, just waiting to tire yourself out struggling. You might as well give it up now, son.”
Another man might have taken offense, but Luke was too much like his grandfather. Hawkeye hadn't been a man to expend energy on a battle he couldn't win, and neither was Luke.
“I always meant to marry her when she was free,” he said after a while. “But I couldn't admit that while she was married to a man her father picked out for her. It got to be a habit, I guess, keeping it to myself.”
“Time to break the habit,” Nathaniel said. “She'll be a good wife to you, though I expect you'll tangle more than most.”
Luke didn't bother trying to hide his grin. “I'm counting on it.”
Gabriel came out of the house on the far side of the lake and stood on the porch. He had made himself a toy rifle out of a branch and he had a crow in his imaginary sights. Nathaniel watched the boy stalk his prey. Next summer he would be big enough for a rifle of his own, and the thought struck Nathaniel that this would be the last child he would teach to track and shoot until some grandchildren came along, or he managed to prove Elizabeth wrong about the size of their family.
He said as much to Luke, who began to get dressed by pulling his shirt over his head.
“Well, then I guess I better get busy and give you some grandchildren,” Luke said.
“You don't much like the idea?”
“It's not that, not exactly.” Luke ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “It's got more to do with where to bring them up once I've got them.”
This surprised Nathaniel, but he managed to keep his tone even. “I thought you were settled in Canada.”
Luke hesitated. “‘Settled' is a strange word, but maybe it fits. I've got a house, I've got land and a business and friends. I was born and raised there. But I don't feel like I need to stay there, and I don't call myself a Canadian.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle. “Don't know if I want my children to either.”
Nathaniel said, “That's the first I heard of this. What do you call yourself, if not a Canadian? A Scot, like your grandmother?”
Luke shrugged. “She brought me up not to think of myself as anything. Not Canadian, not a Scot, not French, not American.”
“Not an Englishman either,” Nathaniel said. “Not if I know Wee Iona.”
“Not an Englishman,” Luke agreed. “Never that.”
He did in fact have an English grandfather, but Wee Iona would not speak his name, had not spoken it even on the day she learned of his death.
“I never did hear the story how it was that Iona Fraser ever let Pink George get a child on her without slitting his throat,” Nathaniel said. “I always thought Robbie MacLachlan would tell me before he died, but I missed that chance.”
“I'm guessing that's a story she'll take to her grave,” said Luke.
“You don't think your mother knows?”
Luke's mouth jerked at the corner. “I'll ask her, the next time I see her.”
Giselle was a topic they rarely discussed; Luke, out of loyalty, and Nathaniel because he knew her so little.
“So what do you call yourself?” Nathaniel asked. “If not Canadian?”
“Iona always said I could choose my own place and name when I was old enough. She thought it was a gift she was giving me, and I thought so too, at first.”
He looked at Nathaniel straight on, something he rarely did. “You don't call yourself American.”
“No,” Nathaniel said. “I don't think of myself as an American.”
“But you pay taxes to the American government.”
“I pick my battles,” Nathaniel said. “And my wars too. Is that what this is about, the new war?”
Luke nodded. “I put the question out of my mind for a long time, but a war makes a man take sides. The only conclusion I can come to is that I won't do anything to help the British.”
“Will you do anything to hurt them?”
He got a shrug for his answer. “Haven't got that far yet in my thinking. What I do know is, I'm a fortunate man but it'll take a lot more than good luck if I want to hold on to what I've got.”
“And Jennet is one of those things.”
Luke took a deep breath. “She's the most important of them.”
Chapter 5
When they were younger, the boys had built a fort in the woods, an elaborate construction of rocks and cast-off boards and interwoven branches that they were always improving. In the winter it fell prey to the snows, to bears and foxes and wolves. Every spring they repaired it.
Luke gave him a sharp look, one edged with curiosity and irritation both. “If it's Jennet you're worried about there's no need. I'm planning to talk to her tonight and settle some things.”
Nathaniel raised a brow. “Reading minds again.”
Luke shrugged. “More Elizabeth than you. She watches me when Jennet's nearby.”
“That's true, she does. And I did come to talk to you about that very thing, but I can't claim I was especially worried about Jennet. She's got what she wants.”
Luke squinted at him. “And that would be?”
“You. Tied up nice and neat, just waiting to tire yourself out struggling. You might as well give it up now, son.”
Another man might have taken offense, but Luke was too much like his grandfather. Hawkeye hadn't been a man to expend energy on a battle he couldn't win, and neither was Luke.
“I always meant to marry her when she was free,” he said after a while. “But I couldn't admit that while she was married to a man her father picked out for her. It got to be a habit, I guess, keeping it to myself.”
“Time to break the habit,” Nathaniel said. “She'll be a good wife to you, though I expect you'll tangle more than most.”
Luke didn't bother trying to hide his grin. “I'm counting on it.”
Gabriel came out of the house on the far side of the lake and stood on the porch. He had made himself a toy rifle out of a branch and he had a crow in his imaginary sights. Nathaniel watched the boy stalk his prey. Next summer he would be big enough for a rifle of his own, and the thought struck Nathaniel that this would be the last child he would teach to track and shoot until some grandchildren came along, or he managed to prove Elizabeth wrong about the size of their family.
He said as much to Luke, who began to get dressed by pulling his shirt over his head.
“Well, then I guess I better get busy and give you some grandchildren,” Luke said.
“You don't much like the idea?”
“It's not that, not exactly.” Luke ran a hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “It's got more to do with where to bring them up once I've got them.”
This surprised Nathaniel, but he managed to keep his tone even. “I thought you were settled in Canada.”
Luke hesitated. “‘Settled' is a strange word, but maybe it fits. I've got a house, I've got land and a business and friends. I was born and raised there. But I don't feel like I need to stay there, and I don't call myself a Canadian.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a knuckle. “Don't know if I want my children to either.”
Nathaniel said, “That's the first I heard of this. What do you call yourself, if not a Canadian? A Scot, like your grandmother?”
Luke shrugged. “She brought me up not to think of myself as anything. Not Canadian, not a Scot, not French, not American.”
“Not an Englishman either,” Nathaniel said. “Not if I know Wee Iona.”
“Not an Englishman,” Luke agreed. “Never that.”
He did in fact have an English grandfather, but Wee Iona would not speak his name, had not spoken it even on the day she learned of his death.
“I never did hear the story how it was that Iona Fraser ever let Pink George get a child on her without slitting his throat,” Nathaniel said. “I always thought Robbie MacLachlan would tell me before he died, but I missed that chance.”
“I'm guessing that's a story she'll take to her grave,” said Luke.
“You don't think your mother knows?”
Luke's mouth jerked at the corner. “I'll ask her, the next time I see her.”
Giselle was a topic they rarely discussed; Luke, out of loyalty, and Nathaniel because he knew her so little.
“So what do you call yourself?” Nathaniel asked. “If not Canadian?”
“Iona always said I could choose my own place and name when I was old enough. She thought it was a gift she was giving me, and I thought so too, at first.”
He looked at Nathaniel straight on, something he rarely did. “You don't call yourself American.”
“No,” Nathaniel said. “I don't think of myself as an American.”
“But you pay taxes to the American government.”
“I pick my battles,” Nathaniel said. “And my wars too. Is that what this is about, the new war?”
Luke nodded. “I put the question out of my mind for a long time, but a war makes a man take sides. The only conclusion I can come to is that I won't do anything to help the British.”
“Will you do anything to hurt them?”
He got a shrug for his answer. “Haven't got that far yet in my thinking. What I do know is, I'm a fortunate man but it'll take a lot more than good luck if I want to hold on to what I've got.”
“And Jennet is one of those things.”
Luke took a deep breath. “She's the most important of them.”
Chapter 5
When they were younger, the boys had built a fort in the woods, an elaborate construction of rocks and cast-off boards and interwoven branches that they were always improving. In the winter it fell prey to the snows, to bears and foxes and wolves. Every spring they repaired it.
