Into the Wilderness
Page 152

A thought occurred to Elizabeth and she wiped a stray hair from her cheek as she observed Nathaniel.
"You believe him."
Nathaniel's irritation was easily read from the way the muscles in one cheek jumped. "I've never seen a Windigo," he said. "But yes, I believe him."
"Well, he is being pursued," she said. "Given what should happen if he were caught, I suppose it is not surprising that his fears have blown out of proportion." She held out a bowl to Nathaniel.
He took it slowly. "Not all things lend themselves to rational explanation," he recited. "Do you remember saying that to me?"
She blushed. "I do. But that was about something else, something I had myself experienced. And he's—his mind is wandering, from the poison in his blood. How am I to credit the idea of giants covered with hair set on human flesh?" She glanced toward the shelter.
"The Hode'noshaunee and the others to the east, my grandfather's people, all of them know of the Windigo who live in the bush."
"Has your father ever seen one, or your grandfather?" Elizabeth asked, and then looked away, embarrassed. Nathaniel was disappointed in her, and it made her unhappy to see that on his face. "It does not signify," she said. "He believes, and he is frightened. Perhaps we can put his mind to rest for the little time he has left. I will try to remain open—minded," she offered. "Although I will admit to you that it is hard, Nathaniel."
"Aye, well," he grunted, tipping up the bowl and swallowing. "Let's hope the evidence you'd need to convince you don't decide to come up and shake your hand."
* * *
"I was born on a farm on the Mohawk," Joe told her later, when he had taken as much of the broth as he could hold, and in response to her gentle questions. "German Flats, maybe you been down that way. Never learned no English till old Sir Johnson bought me to work his mill, when I was maybe twenty. That was more than forty year ago, but the Dutch ain't washed out of my mouth yet."
"Did you stay with Johnson long?" Nathaniel asked.
Joe squinted in Nathaniel's direction. "Thirty years, near to. When he died, Molly sold me to a widow woman in Pumpkin Hollow." He had been talking easily, looking back and forth between Elizabeth and Nathaniel, but suddenly he looked away from both of them, out into the open. "Could I have more water?" he asked.
There was some vague memory stirring in Elizabeth, but she couldn't quite bring it forth. She held the bowl of water for Joe as he lifted his head.
"It's sweet, the water up here," he said when he had finished drinking. "Land of plenty," he added. His lips were cracked and discolored with fever, but he smiled weakly anyway.
"There's a pretty sunset," Elizabeth said. She could see it above the trees, all cinnamons and crimsons. The storm had sputtered and then blown away. Tomorrow would be fine and clear. She thought of telling him so, and then hesitated, thinking of what the day would bring.
When she looked down at Joe, his head had dropped back on the cot. "Night comin' on," he whispered. "Time to be indoors. They come in the dark."
She waited, and he took this as encouragement, turning his head toward her.
"Saw the first one over by that big pine, when I settled in here some weeks ago. If there was still snow on the ground you could see his tracks. Scared him off with a torch, that time." He worked the fabric of the blanket between his fingers. "Eyes red as raspberries."
"What do you suppose he wanted?" Elizabeth asked. She was very aware of Nathaniel just behind her as he fed the small fire.
Joe had begun to blink drowsily. "You think I'm a crazy old man."
"No," Elizabeth protested feebly.
He laughed softly. "Well, I'm old enough. But I saw what I saw."
Nathaniel had brought in a small sawed—off log from Joe's woodpile and upended it, and it served as a sort of stool at the head of the cot. Elizabeth sat there now, and leaned toward Joe. "Tell me, if you like. I'm truly interested."
"Are you? You got that look about you like that young Father Mansard, wondering what trouble I got up to. And looking forward to my confession, see how to set me straight with the Lord."
She had to laugh. "I've never been compared to a priest before," she said. "But I assure you that my interest is real."
"You should be interested," Joe said in a tone that was almost fatherly. It made Elizabeth suddenly wonder about his family, if he had had one he left behind, and what worries they had for him. But his gaze turned toward the deepening dark of the sky in the doorway, and it was troubled.
"They play games with you," he said softly. "Like to scare people. Come close and throw things, run away. Like children set on mischief, throwing rotten apples at a man sweating in the field 'cause they know he cain't run after 'em." He paused, his thoughts very far away. The silence went on until she wondered if he was falling asleep. When he spoke, Elizabeth started at the new strength in his voice.
"In the night sometimes, I hear them moving around. But they don't like fire."
"How could any people survive winter in the bush without fire?" Elizabeth asked.
In the growing dark she could still clearly see the surprise on his face. "The bear do," he said. "The bobcat and the rest, anything with enough of a fur coat."
"So this creature is not a man?"