Into the Wilderness
Page 175
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When he was fed and his wounds tended to, then he would sleep. And she would sleep beside him, and he would heal. Then they would go home to Paradise and start their life.
* * *
The unnamed lake with the island at its center where they had last been together was suddenly there before them, and the platform of rock, where they had watched the eagles mate. Elizabeth broke into a run, with Otter right behind her. It was only two minutes, but how could that be? It must be ten times that, or more. Otter was talking to her, but she could make no sense of what he was saying; could not even tell if it was English or Mohawk.
At the edge of the clearing she pulled up, hard, and saw the smoke curling at a cook fire. One of them was well enough to get outside to tend it. A great rush of hope burst through her, and she knew how afraid she had been. She paused to catch her breath, and in that moment what she had taken as a great pile of red pelts on Joe's grave rolled suddenly to one side and gave a low woof. Elizabeth watched in disbelief as Treenie came loping toward her, grinning idiotically, her whole body moving with the rhythm of her tail. There was a wound on her back, crusted with blood. Elizabeth steadied herself by threading her fingers into the dog's coat, speaking softly to her. Then she cleared her throat and started forward, calling out.
Robbie MacLachlan's familiar form materialized in the doorframe. Elizabeth's voice died in her throat, and then she increased her pace, running the last few paces into Robbie's comforting embrace.
"Weel, then, lassie," he said while he patted at her back. "It's nae sae bad, nae sae bad a'all. Dinna greet so, ye'll break ma heart."
His great bulk blocked out the rest of the world. Wiping her face with her hands, Elizabeth looked up into his eyes, and saw no end to her troubles.
"Is he alive?" she asked hoarsely. "Tell me he's alive, Robbie, please."
"Who, then? Joe? Do ye ken Joe? If it's him ye mean, I canna hold oot much hope, for there's a new grave—"
Elizabeth pulled away from him, shook her head. "That is Joe's grave. He died five days ago." Without waiting for Robbie's reaction, she walked stiffly past him and into the shelter. On either side of the cold fire there was nothing but a scattering of straw on the earth floor. The food, the weapons, and the tools; everything was gone. She heard herself moan, pressed the back of her hand to her mouth until her lip, barely healed, began to bleed again.
"I dinna understand," Robbie was saying behind her. "Where's Nathaniel, lass? And how come ye here lookin' sac blue an' battered?"
"He was here," she said numbly. "I left him here, to fetch you. They were both injured, and couldn't walk."
"Barth injured? Who barth?" The frustration in Robbie's voice was making it break and crackle. "I dinna understand."
"Cat—Eater," said Otter.
There was a soft woosh of surprise from Robbie, and then he came forward to take her by the arm. "I came this way this morning tae look in on Joe, for he was a friend o' mine. Now ye tell me that Joe is dead, and Nathaniel and Todd were here? They fought?"
She nodded, hesitating only slightly.
"Someone came," she said, more to herself than Robbie. "Someone came and took them away."
Robbie's hand moved to Elizabeth's shoulder, and it gripped her firmly. "I've been in this part o' the bush for a guid week, lass, and there's ample sign o' Indian aboot. No' three days sync I came across an abandoned camp. They were headed this way.
Elizabeth looked up at Robbie, saw the hope in his face and felt the stirrings of it in her own heart. "Do you think they were Kahnyen’keháka?"
"Aye, fra' the sign I wad say they were. And they are in the habit o' passin' through this way." He cast a glance at Otter which Elizabeth could not quite interpret, but the younger man had a question which was more relevant.
"How many were they?" he asked.
"At least a dozen. Enough tae get both men oot, if need be. And they'll have had canoes, for bye
"But where?" she whispered, and then turning to Otter, she raised her voice. "Where is he?"
Otter's eyes had been scanning the shelter while she spoke to Robbie, and now he went down on one knee there where Nathaniel had been propped when she last saw him. A knife had been used to scrape the bark away, leaving a small patch of white raw wood. There a single word had been written in ash by a fingertip. It was smeared now and barely legible. On her knees next to Otter, Elizabeth read it aloud.
"Kahen'tiyo.
I don't understand," she whispered.
Robbie translated: "Good Pasture."
"Where my mother's people live," supplied Otter, and there was some excitement there, some satisfaction in his voice. She turned back to Robbie, and spread out one hand, palm up.
Robbie glanced at Otter, and then he cleared his throat. "Canada," he said. "Aboot four days' hard walk fra here."
Elizabeth had felt completely drained just five minutes ago, but a new flush of energy flowed through her. "Let's go, then," she said, standing up and dusting her hands on her leggings. "It's a good day to walk." And then she stilled, seeing their faces.
She could not stand it, the way they looked at her. Her whole life she had seen this look in the eyes of men: when she had asked for a Latin tutor, and then for one who could teach her philosophy. When she had wanted to climb Ben Nevis with her cousin Merriweather and his friends. When she had offered to write extracts of her uncle's library books. The day she had expressed her wish to leave England, and first spoke of teaching school. Now all of those things seemed so trivial compared to the task she had before her, and these men, who were stronger and braver and more honest than any she had ever known, they were looking at her with that same doubt she had borne for all of her life. Elizabeth looked Robbie in the eye, and she lifted her chin.
* * *
The unnamed lake with the island at its center where they had last been together was suddenly there before them, and the platform of rock, where they had watched the eagles mate. Elizabeth broke into a run, with Otter right behind her. It was only two minutes, but how could that be? It must be ten times that, or more. Otter was talking to her, but she could make no sense of what he was saying; could not even tell if it was English or Mohawk.
At the edge of the clearing she pulled up, hard, and saw the smoke curling at a cook fire. One of them was well enough to get outside to tend it. A great rush of hope burst through her, and she knew how afraid she had been. She paused to catch her breath, and in that moment what she had taken as a great pile of red pelts on Joe's grave rolled suddenly to one side and gave a low woof. Elizabeth watched in disbelief as Treenie came loping toward her, grinning idiotically, her whole body moving with the rhythm of her tail. There was a wound on her back, crusted with blood. Elizabeth steadied herself by threading her fingers into the dog's coat, speaking softly to her. Then she cleared her throat and started forward, calling out.
Robbie MacLachlan's familiar form materialized in the doorframe. Elizabeth's voice died in her throat, and then she increased her pace, running the last few paces into Robbie's comforting embrace.
"Weel, then, lassie," he said while he patted at her back. "It's nae sae bad, nae sae bad a'all. Dinna greet so, ye'll break ma heart."
His great bulk blocked out the rest of the world. Wiping her face with her hands, Elizabeth looked up into his eyes, and saw no end to her troubles.
"Is he alive?" she asked hoarsely. "Tell me he's alive, Robbie, please."
"Who, then? Joe? Do ye ken Joe? If it's him ye mean, I canna hold oot much hope, for there's a new grave—"
Elizabeth pulled away from him, shook her head. "That is Joe's grave. He died five days ago." Without waiting for Robbie's reaction, she walked stiffly past him and into the shelter. On either side of the cold fire there was nothing but a scattering of straw on the earth floor. The food, the weapons, and the tools; everything was gone. She heard herself moan, pressed the back of her hand to her mouth until her lip, barely healed, began to bleed again.
"I dinna understand," Robbie was saying behind her. "Where's Nathaniel, lass? And how come ye here lookin' sac blue an' battered?"
"He was here," she said numbly. "I left him here, to fetch you. They were both injured, and couldn't walk."
"Barth injured? Who barth?" The frustration in Robbie's voice was making it break and crackle. "I dinna understand."
"Cat—Eater," said Otter.
There was a soft woosh of surprise from Robbie, and then he came forward to take her by the arm. "I came this way this morning tae look in on Joe, for he was a friend o' mine. Now ye tell me that Joe is dead, and Nathaniel and Todd were here? They fought?"
She nodded, hesitating only slightly.
"Someone came," she said, more to herself than Robbie. "Someone came and took them away."
Robbie's hand moved to Elizabeth's shoulder, and it gripped her firmly. "I've been in this part o' the bush for a guid week, lass, and there's ample sign o' Indian aboot. No' three days sync I came across an abandoned camp. They were headed this way.
Elizabeth looked up at Robbie, saw the hope in his face and felt the stirrings of it in her own heart. "Do you think they were Kahnyen’keháka?"
"Aye, fra' the sign I wad say they were. And they are in the habit o' passin' through this way." He cast a glance at Otter which Elizabeth could not quite interpret, but the younger man had a question which was more relevant.
"How many were they?" he asked.
"At least a dozen. Enough tae get both men oot, if need be. And they'll have had canoes, for bye
"But where?" she whispered, and then turning to Otter, she raised her voice. "Where is he?"
Otter's eyes had been scanning the shelter while she spoke to Robbie, and now he went down on one knee there where Nathaniel had been propped when she last saw him. A knife had been used to scrape the bark away, leaving a small patch of white raw wood. There a single word had been written in ash by a fingertip. It was smeared now and barely legible. On her knees next to Otter, Elizabeth read it aloud.
"Kahen'tiyo.
I don't understand," she whispered.
Robbie translated: "Good Pasture."
"Where my mother's people live," supplied Otter, and there was some excitement there, some satisfaction in his voice. She turned back to Robbie, and spread out one hand, palm up.
Robbie glanced at Otter, and then he cleared his throat. "Canada," he said. "Aboot four days' hard walk fra here."
Elizabeth had felt completely drained just five minutes ago, but a new flush of energy flowed through her. "Let's go, then," she said, standing up and dusting her hands on her leggings. "It's a good day to walk." And then she stilled, seeing their faces.
She could not stand it, the way they looked at her. Her whole life she had seen this look in the eyes of men: when she had asked for a Latin tutor, and then for one who could teach her philosophy. When she had wanted to climb Ben Nevis with her cousin Merriweather and his friends. When she had offered to write extracts of her uncle's library books. The day she had expressed her wish to leave England, and first spoke of teaching school. Now all of those things seemed so trivial compared to the task she had before her, and these men, who were stronger and braver and more honest than any she had ever known, they were looking at her with that same doubt she had borne for all of her life. Elizabeth looked Robbie in the eye, and she lifted her chin.
