Wilderness Double Edition 32, page 19
Now that Evelyn thought about it, her parents had been right about a lot of things. It made her wonder what other notions she held that she was wrong about. It frazzled a person, being mistaken like that.
Life sure was strange, Evelyn reflected. There she’d been, a perfectly content sixteen-year-old girl, happy with her life and with no hankering to change it, and life went and threw a surprise at her. Life went and kindled a flame that she couldn’t quench if she wanted to, and she didn’t want to.
Evelyn smiled at her reflection in the lake. “Who would have thought it?” she asked out loud. Certainly not her. She’d had no interest in boys. None whatsoever.
She resumed her stroll around the lake shore toward her parents’ cabin. Around her the valley was vibrant with life. King Valley, it was called, named after her father. By the calendar it was early autumn, but you wouldn’t know it from the hot weather. Indian Summer, folks back East would say. A last heat wave before the weather turned chill and the oaks and the aspens changed color.
Someone was coming toward her, a man with a mane of white hair and a warm smile. Like her father, he wore buckskins and was armed with a Hawken rifle and a brace of pistols. She returned his smile with affection.
“ ‘Forsooth, fair maiden! Don’t you look pretty in your new dress and bonnet!’ ”
“Uncle Shakespeare,” Evelyn said. He wasn’t really her uncle, but he had been his father’s best friend since before she was born and she had known him since she could remember. “What are you up to today?”
Shakespeare McNair stopped and placed the stock of his rifle on the ground and leaned on the barrel. “I paid your father a visit to needle him.”
“What about?”
“Anything and everything. I like to bring color to his cheeks.”
“You are the biggest tease I know. Ma says if a person could make a living at teasing, you could have stayed back in the States and been rich.”
Shakespeare stiffened in mock indignation and quoted the Bard he was named after. “ ‘O serpent heart, hid with a flowery face. Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?’ ”
“Now, now,” Evelyn chided. “She was only saying.”
“That’s the trouble with females,” Shakespeare grumped. “They are forever using their tongues as rapiers and piercing us poor men to the quick.”
“You men deserve it.”
“Since when? What do we do that you women delight in pricking us so?”
“It’s how you are.”
Shakespeare sniffed and quoted, “ ‘You do unbend your noble strength, to think so brainsickly of things.’ ”
Evelyn laughed. “Is that even a word? Brainsickly? Sometimes I think that William S., as you like to call him, just made up words to suit him.”
Shakespeare’s indignation became genuine. “Why, you upstart. I’ll have you know he was the greatest word-weaver who ever drew breath. He made poetry of the plain and showed the real and the true of all that is.”
“Oh, really?” Evelyn said. “What about that silly play of his with the fairies and Cupid?”
Shakespeare made a sound remarkably similar to a goose being throttled. “Did my ears deceive me, child? Did you just call the Bard silly?” He quoted again. “ ‘Is there no military policy how virgins might blow up men?’ ”
Evelyn gave a mild start. “What did you just say?”
“That you have besmirched the greatest writer of all time.”
“No. That other thing.”
“Oh. You mean about virgins?” A sly smile curled McNair’s seamed features. “That reminds me. How is the handsome Romeo these days? Rumor has it that the two of you are glued at the elbow.” He chortled merrily and said, “Glued at the elbow! I do make myself laugh, if I say so myself.”
“That will be enough of that.”
“Oh ho?” Shakespeare returned. “The young maiden can dish it out, but she can’t take it?”
“You shouldn’t poke fun at something like that.”
“Like what? Love?”
Evelyn was growing annoyed. She cared for Shakespeare dearly, but he had a knack for getting a rise out of people. “I never said I was in love.”
“You never said you weren’t. Not that anyone would believe you if you did. The proof of the pudding is in the tasting, young one.”
“Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning if it waddles like a duck and quacks like a duck, it won’t do any good to call it a moose.”
Evelyn put her hands on her hips. “I’ve heard that people your age tend to babble a lot and I reckon it must be true.”
“Here, now,” Shakespeare said. “Pick on anything you want but my years. I have earned these wrinkles honorably.” He glanced behind him and then gazed past her and came closer and lowered his voice. “How are the two of you doing, by the way? Has Horatio said anything about Dega and you?”
“Horatio,” as Evelyn well knew, was Shakespeare’s nickname for her father. “What would Pa have to say about what I do? It’s between Dega and me.”
“Does your father mind the two of you being together? Sometimes parents take exception.”
“I don’t see how he could,” Evelyn said. “So what if I’m white and Dega is an Indian? Pa married a Shoshone, after all.”
“That wasn’t what I was talking about,” Shakespeare clarified. “Land sakes, girl, I married a sassy red wench myself.”
“Oh, Uncle Shakespeare.”
“Don’t ‘Uncle Shakespeare’ me. I will call my wife that to her face and she will be flattered.”
“So Blue Water Woman is a wench, is she?”
“All women are. Some hide it better than others, but deep down all women want the same thing.”
“And what would that be?”
Shakespeare started to say something and caught himself. Instead he smiled and said, “They want a heart to entwine with their own.”
Evelyn thought of Dega and her chest grew warm. “Even if that’s true, I’m still not admitting I’m in love.”
“A woman’s prerogative. And for your sake I will graciously drop the subject.”
“Thank you,” Evelyn said. “I’ll have to tell your wife that she’s wrong about you.”
“What did the wretch say?”
Evelyn snorted. “How did she go from being a wench to a wretch?”
“She’s female. Your kind does it with every other breath.”
“Oh, Uncle Shakespeare.”
“Don’t start with that again. What did my darling wife claim this time?”
“Only that your tongue is so tart, you must have been born with a sour disposition. But she was smiling when she said it.”
“That was the word she used? Tart?”
Evelyn nodded. “She was quite proud of it. She said it was a word worthy of your precious William S.”
“The nerve,” Shakespeare said, and paraphrased, “All that is within her does condemn itself for being there.” Lifting his rifle, he marched on by. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a certain upstart who needs a tongue-lashing.”
Evelyn grinned and continued on her way. She thought of his remark about the military and virgins and felt herself blush. That was another thing she’d never given any attention until recently. Why should she, when she was never going to marry? Sighing, she stopped and gazed toward the east end of the lake. The Nansusequa lodge was a dark block in the shadows of the tall trees. Dega was there somewhere, going about his daily chores. It had been a few days since she saw him and she dearly yearned to.
That got her thinking. Usually when they were together, others were around. His family or her family or Shakespeare and his wife. It was rare for them to be alone. The last time had been when they went on a long ride up into the mountains. She decided to go on another. Only she couldn’t just tell her mother and father and say she wanted to go off with Dega to be alone with him. She needed an excuse.
Over by the cabin the chickens were pecking and taking dirt baths. The rooster flapped his wings at her as she went by. She opened the door and went in and stood a moment so her eyes could adjust. Her mother, Winona, was at the counter chopping a rabbit into bits for a stew.
“Where’s Pa?” Evelyn asked.
“He went to visit your brother and see how Louisa is coming along,” Winona said in her impeccable English.
Evelyn pulled out a chair and sat at the table. Her sister-in-law was in the family way and everyone was doting over her. She wondered if they would do the same when she was in the family way, and blushed again.
“How was your walk?”
“It’s a beautiful day,” Evelyn said.
Winona turned. She had a bloody knife in one hand, and the fingers of her other hand dripped red drops. “Too beautiful to clean your room as you promised you would?”
“I said I would get it done by suppertime.”
“And you will stall until it is nearly time to eat and then do it,” Winona predicted.
Evelyn wanted to stay on her mother’s good side, so she said, “I’ll clean it in a few minutes. First I wanted to ask you something.”
Winona turned back to the counter and began putting the pieces and bits into a pot. “I am listening.”
“Pretty soon the weather will change,” Evelyn began by a devious route. “Winter will be here and we’ll have snow up to our necks.”
“Sometimes the snow is deep, yes. Do you want your father to repair that sled he made you?”
“What? No. I haven’t used that in years.” Evelyn traced the shape of a heart on the tabletop.
“Then what was your point?”
“Only that once the snow hits, we don’t get to go anywhere. We can be socked in for days or even weeks.”
“Winter is as it is.”
“I know that. I’m not griping about the snow. I’m saying that I’d like to get away for a day. Maybe ride up into the high country.”
Winona shifted toward her. “Oh?”
“Yes.” Evelyn saw the hint of a grin at the corners of her mother’s mouth. Or maybe it was her imagination.
“Would you go alone?”
“No. Pa and you wouldn’t like that. So I was thinking of asking Dega to go along. I was thinking we could pack food and make a picnic of it. The last outing of the summer, so to speak.”
“So to speak,” Winona repeated, and stabbed a juicy chunk. “It is fine by me if it is fine by your father.”
Inwardly, Evelyn smiled. Her father nearly always let her do things if she got her mother’s approval first. “I’ll ask him when he gets back.”
“Have you asked Dega yet?”
“No. If Pa says yes, I’ll ride over to the Nansusequa lodge later. We could go tomorrow morning and be back by nightfall.”
“All day? That is a long picnic.” Winona looked at her. “What will you do with yourselves?”
“Mostly we’ll ride and eat and admire the scenery and the animals,” Evelyn said, her cheeks warm yet again.
“You will go armed. Take your rifle and your pistols. And you will tell Dega to be on his guard at all times.”
“We’re not kids,” Evelyn said.
“You’re not adults, either.” Winona put down the butcher knife. She poured water from a pitcher into the pot and carried the pot and a large wooden spoon to the stove. “After all the things that have happened to you, you shouldn’t take the wilderness lightly.”
“That’s one thing I’ll never do,” Evelyn vowed. Over the years she had encountered bears and wolves and hostiles and more, and nearly lost her life on several occasions.
“I hope Dega’s parents will let him.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Evelyn asked. “They’ve always been as nice as can be to me.”
“I am sure they will,” Winona said. “They are dear people and have become good friends. We are lucky to have them as neighbors.”
“Yes,” Evelyn agreed. “We are.”
“You will be back by nightfall without fail?”
“I give you my word, Ma,” Evelyn said, averting her gaze. She couldn’t look her mother in the eye after telling such a bold-faced lie. She had no intention of making it back by dark. In fact, she planned on the opposite; she was going to stay all night alone with Dega in the wilderness.
She couldn’t wait.
Chapter Eight
TIHIKANIMA FOUND HER son seated on a log in a sunlit glade. He was sitting so still and blended in so well, with his green buckskins, she almost didn’t spot him. He was gazing off toward King Lake with a longing expression she had seen many times of late. He wasn’t really looking at the lake; he was pining for the new female in his life. She strolled out of the trees, her arms crossed over her bosom, her doeskin dress the same shade of green as his. He was so enrapt, he didn’t notice her until she was almost on top of him.
“Mother!” Degamawaku stood. “What brings you here?”
“I was out for a walk,” Tihi lied. She had come specifically to see him, but he must not know that. “May I join you?”
“Of course.” Dega motioned at the log. “There is plenty of room for both of us.”
“What were you thinking about when I came up?” Tihi reminded herself that she must not be obvious or he would resent it.
“About a buck I saw this morning,” Dega said.
“Does this buck have a name?” Tihi countered. “And would the name be Evelyn King?”
Dega smiled and sat next to her. “I do not think of her all the time.”
“Only most of it.”
“I have made no secret of my fondness for her. She is a fine girl, Evelyn.”
“Yes, she is,” Tihi was quick to agree. In that, at least, she was sincere. She did think that Evelyn was a fine person: cheerful and courteous and caring. But to Tihi that wasn’t enough.
Out on the water, mallards were swimming and geese were honking. A large fish leaped clear and splashed down.
“What are you intentions with her?” Tihi asked. She had to force herself to keep her tone unemotional.
Dega shifted. “Why do you ask?”
“You are my son,” Tihi said. “You are my oldest. I have nurtured you from when you were a baby in a cradleboard. I care for you and want only the best for you.”
“Did Father send you to talk to me about her?” Dega asked.
“I am here on my own,” Tihi admitted. Her husband would be upset if he knew. She had broached the subject with him and he had made it plain that he did not want her to interfere. But she couldn’t stand by and say nothing. Too much was at stake.
“I should think you would be happy if Evelyn and I become close,” Dega said. “I could do worse than pick her as my wife.”
There it was, out in the open where Tihi wanted it. Now she must be extra careful. “You are young yet to think of that.”
“I have seen almost nineteen summers.”
“Evelyn has seen only sixteen.”
“So?” Dega said. “You took Father as your husband when you were that age. And Evelyn tells me that among her people many take husbands and wives when they are as young as she and I are.”
“Among her people,” Tihi repeated. He had unwittingly given her the opening she wanted.
“Why do you say it like that?”
“She is white and you are not.”
“So?” Dega said again. “Nate King is married to Winona, a Shoshone. Shakespeare McNair is married to Blue Water Woman, a Flathead. Zach King is half and half, and he has a white wife. What difference does it make that Evelyn looks white and I do not?”
Tihi chose her next words with great care. She didn’t want him angry with her. He must think she shared his fondness for Evelyn, even if she didn’t. “When two hearts are in love, only their love matters.”
“That is how I feel, too.”
“But there is more than just your hearts involved, my son. She is white. You are Nansusequa.” Tihi paused. “Need I mention that our family is all that is left of our people? That the rest of our people were wiped out by whites who sought our land for themselves?”
“I was there, Mother,” Dega said bitterly. “It was the most terrible day of my life. I do not understand why Manitoa deserted us.”
To the Nansusequa, Manitoa was the source of all that was. Their other name for it meant That Which Was In All Things. They revered the Manitoa above all else. Because of that reverence, for untold generations they had striven to live in harmony with all that was around them, and by doing so, be close to That Which Was In All Things. For untold generations they were a peaceful people devoted to one another and their customs. Then, in one brief burst of brutal violence, all that they were and all that they believed had been nearly wiped out by greedy whites.
Only their family escaped. The five of them were the last of their kind, the very last of the Nansusequas.
“Did Manitoa desert us or did we desert Manitoa?” Tihi responded. She’d had a hard time reconciling the tragedy herself. She could still hear the screams and see warriors and women she had known all her life having their brains blown out or their bodies skewered on sharp blades. “But it is not That Which Is In All Things that I have come to talk about.”
“Then what?”
“Our responsibility to those we lost.”
Dega scratched his handsome head in puzzlement. “I am confused,” he confessed.
“As the last of our kind, we owe it to those who fell to live as Nansusequa should.”
“We do that,” Dega said.
“We wear Nansusequa clothes and live in a Nansusequa lodge,” Tihi said. “But what about in here?” She touched her head. “Or in here?” She touched her bosom over her heart.
“We are Nansusequa through and through, as the whites would say,” Dega declared.
“Are we?” Tihi paused for effect, then said, “A Nansusequa does not give his heart to an outsider. Nansusequas only marry Nansusequas.” There. She had said it.
Dega stared at her for the longest while, his face impossible to read. Finally he said, “I cannot believe what I am hearing.”
“Why not?”
“You are saying that you do not want me to feel for Evelyn as I do. You are saying that you do not want the two of us to be together.”
