Into the Wilderness
Page 285
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"Nathaniel believes that he caused the attack."
"I know what Nathaniel believes," Falling—Day said. "But I was there, and he was not. Cat—Eater saved Sky—Wound—Round's life. He saved my life, and Otter's.
"Otter sees things differently."
"Men do, for the most part. Boys almost always see things as simple when they are not.
"Richard saw you bound like animals and marched down the road. And then he tried to have Nathaniel shot."
Falling—Day paused to gather her thoughts.
"I do not deny that his hatred for Nathaniel was real and that he would have acted on it. You must ask Richard about these things if you want the whole truth—and I think that you should ask. I can only tell you about my daughter, who loved both of these men. I encouraged her to follow her heart."
"Follow her heart?" Elizabeth asked, almost bitterly. "I don't know what that means."
"I think that you do. Is this the life your family wanted for you, or the one you took for yourself?"
There was a small silence.
"And did Sarah take your advice?"
"Among our own people, it would not have been necessary for her to choose between these men. But they are neither of them true Kahnyen’keháka, and they could neither of them bear the idea of the other, or believe that her heart was so large. So they made her choose. In the end she stayed with Nathaniel and bore him a daughter."
She bore him a daughter.Elizabeth wondered if she had misunderstood.
"Hannah is Nathaniel's child?"
The older woman lifted her chin, her dark eyes suddenly severe. "Hen'en." Yes.
"You know that Richard claims Hannah as his own. Why have you never told Nathaniel the truth?"
"My words cannot open his eyes. He must see this truth for himself."
Elizabeth sat back with a small gasp of surprise. "That is cruel."
Falling—Day spread her hands out in front of her. "Is it? Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"But you want me to encourage him to make peace with Richard."
"I think it is possible now, and it would be good. If we are to stay here."
"Perhaps we will not," Elizabeth said slowly. "You know that Nathaniel has told me it is my decision to stay or go and find another place to make a life for ourselves. Will you tell me too to follow my heart?"
"I will," said Falling—Day. "As you will one day tell Hannah, and the daughter you carry now."
Elizabeth's head snapped up, and Falling—Day laughed out loud.
"You are thinking of Chingachgook's dream of a great—grandson," she said. "But he did not look hard enough. He also did not feel what I feel. Here." She put the flat of her hand high on the left side of Elizabeth's stomach. "And here." She did the same on the other side, but lower. "Two heads, two heartbeats. A grandson for Hawkeye, and another granddaughter for Cora."
"Twins?" Elizabeth asked, staring at her own belly as if it might speak up. Then her expression of surprise faltered and was replaced by distress.
"Nathaniel will be out of his head with worry."
"Then do not tell him yet," Falling—Day said.
Elizabeth lay back, her palms resting lightly where Falling—Day had touched her. "I don't know if I should be overjoyed or just worried."
"The first will do for now," Falling—Day said. "You'll worry enough, in time. But listen now, for I will give you my best advice. Decide what kind of home you want for yourself, for your husband and your children, and if that means you must go away from here, then you must go."
"And take your granddaughter from your care?"
Falling—Day picked up her sewing again. "I will cope, as my mother did when I took my family and left her fire."
"You trust me with her." Elizabeth smiled, finally.
"Hen'en," said Falling—Day. "You have earned my trust."
* * *
Curled around the universe that was her children, Elizabeth wanted and needed to sleep, but found herself unable to calm her thoughts. She lay contemplating the view from the window: the shoulder of mountain crowded with fir and pine, somber green dusted now with white. Above that, a wedge of sky the color of old pewrer. Another storm was coming.
What Falling—Day had told her of Richard and the raid on Barktown was almost more than she could reconcile with the tales she had heard from Nathaniel and Otter. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became: each of them told the story with complete conviction. In the end, she thought, perhaps they were all right. The stories of what had happened to each of them in those bloody days of the revolution were a web they wove together; the truth scuttled back and forth between the delicate strands of memory, and could not be pinned down. Where Richard fit into the whole was unclear; Elizabeth thought that she might never know, unless he himself told her. And it would be a long time before she was comfortable enough to have such a conversation with Richard Todd.
They might not even be here a year from now. Elizabeth lay back, and tried to imagine another life, a new start. A year ago she had been alone; now she had a husband; in another year she would have Hannah and two infants to care for.
Sarah had borne twins. Nathaniel had buried Hannah's brother with his own hands. She had tried again, and he had buried his second son in Sarah's arms.
"I know what Nathaniel believes," Falling—Day said. "But I was there, and he was not. Cat—Eater saved Sky—Wound—Round's life. He saved my life, and Otter's.
"Otter sees things differently."
"Men do, for the most part. Boys almost always see things as simple when they are not.
"Richard saw you bound like animals and marched down the road. And then he tried to have Nathaniel shot."
Falling—Day paused to gather her thoughts.
"I do not deny that his hatred for Nathaniel was real and that he would have acted on it. You must ask Richard about these things if you want the whole truth—and I think that you should ask. I can only tell you about my daughter, who loved both of these men. I encouraged her to follow her heart."
"Follow her heart?" Elizabeth asked, almost bitterly. "I don't know what that means."
"I think that you do. Is this the life your family wanted for you, or the one you took for yourself?"
There was a small silence.
"And did Sarah take your advice?"
"Among our own people, it would not have been necessary for her to choose between these men. But they are neither of them true Kahnyen’keháka, and they could neither of them bear the idea of the other, or believe that her heart was so large. So they made her choose. In the end she stayed with Nathaniel and bore him a daughter."
She bore him a daughter.Elizabeth wondered if she had misunderstood.
"Hannah is Nathaniel's child?"
The older woman lifted her chin, her dark eyes suddenly severe. "Hen'en." Yes.
"You know that Richard claims Hannah as his own. Why have you never told Nathaniel the truth?"
"My words cannot open his eyes. He must see this truth for himself."
Elizabeth sat back with a small gasp of surprise. "That is cruel."
Falling—Day spread her hands out in front of her. "Is it? Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"But you want me to encourage him to make peace with Richard."
"I think it is possible now, and it would be good. If we are to stay here."
"Perhaps we will not," Elizabeth said slowly. "You know that Nathaniel has told me it is my decision to stay or go and find another place to make a life for ourselves. Will you tell me too to follow my heart?"
"I will," said Falling—Day. "As you will one day tell Hannah, and the daughter you carry now."
Elizabeth's head snapped up, and Falling—Day laughed out loud.
"You are thinking of Chingachgook's dream of a great—grandson," she said. "But he did not look hard enough. He also did not feel what I feel. Here." She put the flat of her hand high on the left side of Elizabeth's stomach. "And here." She did the same on the other side, but lower. "Two heads, two heartbeats. A grandson for Hawkeye, and another granddaughter for Cora."
"Twins?" Elizabeth asked, staring at her own belly as if it might speak up. Then her expression of surprise faltered and was replaced by distress.
"Nathaniel will be out of his head with worry."
"Then do not tell him yet," Falling—Day said.
Elizabeth lay back, her palms resting lightly where Falling—Day had touched her. "I don't know if I should be overjoyed or just worried."
"The first will do for now," Falling—Day said. "You'll worry enough, in time. But listen now, for I will give you my best advice. Decide what kind of home you want for yourself, for your husband and your children, and if that means you must go away from here, then you must go."
"And take your granddaughter from your care?"
Falling—Day picked up her sewing again. "I will cope, as my mother did when I took my family and left her fire."
"You trust me with her." Elizabeth smiled, finally.
"Hen'en," said Falling—Day. "You have earned my trust."
* * *
Curled around the universe that was her children, Elizabeth wanted and needed to sleep, but found herself unable to calm her thoughts. She lay contemplating the view from the window: the shoulder of mountain crowded with fir and pine, somber green dusted now with white. Above that, a wedge of sky the color of old pewrer. Another storm was coming.
What Falling—Day had told her of Richard and the raid on Barktown was almost more than she could reconcile with the tales she had heard from Nathaniel and Otter. The more she thought about it, the more confused she became: each of them told the story with complete conviction. In the end, she thought, perhaps they were all right. The stories of what had happened to each of them in those bloody days of the revolution were a web they wove together; the truth scuttled back and forth between the delicate strands of memory, and could not be pinned down. Where Richard fit into the whole was unclear; Elizabeth thought that she might never know, unless he himself told her. And it would be a long time before she was comfortable enough to have such a conversation with Richard Todd.
They might not even be here a year from now. Elizabeth lay back, and tried to imagine another life, a new start. A year ago she had been alone; now she had a husband; in another year she would have Hannah and two infants to care for.
Sarah had borne twins. Nathaniel had buried Hannah's brother with his own hands. She had tried again, and he had buried his second son in Sarah's arms.
