MacFarlane's Ridge (36 page)

“I tried to warn you,” Wanda said under her breath.

“I hate you,” said Cam simply.

“Next time, don’t look at the water. Ignore it, pretend it’s not there, and they’ll get you a cup or something to drink out of,” advised Wanda.

Cam said nothing. She watched as the young man who had dunked her – she would call him Damn Near Drowned Me – scooped a hollowed-out gourd into the stream. He brought it cautiously to Wanda, and offered it to her.

“You drink?”

Wanda stared at him haughtily. They were almost the same height. Finally, she said, “Yes,” and took the gourd in her tied hands. She sipped slowly, and then, not taking her eyes from the young man, passed the gourd to Cam.

Startled, Cam took it, and there were shouts of objection from the rest of the men. Pointy Club strode over angrily, and knocked the gourd from Cam’s hands. “No drink!” he yelled. He turned to Wanda and began to curse at her in his strange tongue.

Cam had to give her credit. While Cam was practically shaking, Wanda didn’t flinch at all. When he had finished his tirade, he turned his back to her and began to stomp away.

“Hey!” called Wanda. Pointy Club whirled back around, his hand raised as if to strike her. She raised her hands quickly in front of her face, and to Cam’s utter amazement, began to chant something in a strange language.

“
Cait’ a bheil sibh a’ fuireach
!”’ Wanda aimed her index fingers at Pointy Club, who began to back away. “
Tha sinn a’ fuireach anns an taighosda
!” Cam watched, astounded, as Wanda began to spin around, singing, “
Moran taing airson do chuideachaidh
!’’’

She whirled in a circle, dancing faster and faster, singing her mystical chant, eyes never leaving Pointy Club, her fingers pointed directly at him. Her red hair framed her face like a wild flame in the sunlight. “
Cait’ a bheil sibh a’ fuireach
!” she repeated. “
Tha sinn a’ fuireach anns an taighosda! Moran taing airson do chuideachaidh
!’’’

Pointy Club yelled something to Damn Near Drowned Me, who scurried back to the stream, re-filled the gourd, and raced over to hand it to Cam. She accepted it gratefully, and watching Wanda out of the corner of her eye, drank the entire thing.

Wanda staggered to a stop, smiling, and motioned to Pointy Club, who was watching her warily. She nodded her head, and said, “Thank you.”

They started walking again, and Cam and Wanda were not bothered again. Nobody poked Cam with anything, and they talked quietly as they hurried along.

“What in the world was that?” asked Cam.

Wanda grinned. “I don’t know why, but I noticed they were kind of leery of me. That got me to thinking what I would do if they decided to get rough with us.”

“And what exactly was it that you did? What language was that?”

“Gaelic. Angus taught me a little bit. I expect they thought I was cursing them, or turning them all into tree frogs or something,” she said quietly.

Cam frowned. “What exactly did you say to them?”

Wanda giggled. “Where do you live? We live in the hotel. Thanks for your help.”

Cam stifled a laugh, and jogged a bit to keep up with Wanda’s long legs. By the end of the day, she was exhausted, and as the sun began to descend beyond the horizon, she found herself staggering down a hillside into a small village, in which there was a great deal of activity.

There were two rows of longhouses, with smoke wafting from holes in the roofs. Between the rows, children ran and played, chasing each other about, and a few dogs barked to announce the arrival of the war party and their captives. Women in doeskin dresses, their dark hair plaited, watched Cam and Wanda suspiciously.

Nobody laid a hand on them.

They were led to one of the longhouses, and Pointy Club motioned inside, gesturing to Wanda and Cam. They looked at each other, and stepped inside reluctantly. Pointy Club pulled a skin over the opening behind them, and there was silence.

The longhouse consisted of one large rectangular room, with a door at each end. It had evidently been constructed of wooden poles covered with bark. Down the center was a row of hearths. Although it was deserted, the longhouse appeared to be the residence of several families.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, Cam realized that they were not, as she had originally believed, alone. On the far end of the room was a single fire, and beside the fire sat a wizened old man. He crooked a finger at them, and beckoned to them.

“Come, come. Sit beside me,” he croaked. Cam wasn’t expecting to hear him speak English.

Wanda sat beside him, and Cam parked nervously next to her, and peered at the old man. His face was as wrinkled as a raisin, and although dark, was not as bronzed as the skin of their captors.

“My name is Man Who Sees Far,” he said, coughing up a glob of phlegm that he spit into the fire. It sizzled and hissed. Cam hid a shudder of revulsion. The old man’s eyes were milky with cataracts, and she suspected that if he could see them at all, he could not see them well. “I once had another name, but that was long ago, before I came to live with the Kanienkehaka,” he sighed. “Long, long ago.”

Wanda and Cam exchanged glances.

“Do you know why you are alive?” he asked abruptly.

“No,” admitted Cam. “I was afraid they’d kill us.”

“Ah!” he chuckled. “And so they might have. Yet, they did not. I told them about the two of you. That a medicine woman with hair like fire and a purple stone at her neck would be coming here. I had a vision, you see.”

“A vision?” Cam parroted. That was almost as startling as the idea of Wanda being a medicine woman.

Man Who Sees Far lit a long clay pipe, and puffed gently on it. “Women do not smoke the pipe here, but then, you are not from here, are you?”

He handed the pipe to Wanda, who was studying him speculatively. She inhaled deeply, and closed her eyes. “We are not,” she agreed.

“I saw you coming,” he said. “I told them to find you, and not to harm you. I often have visions when I smoke my pipe,” he laughed.

“I bet you do,” squeaked Wanda, tears forming in her eyes as smoke poured from her nostrils. She passed the pipe to Cam, who politely declined. Man Who Sees Far took it instead.

“You will not be harmed. They know that you are like me,” he said gently.

“Like you? How?” asked Cam. She wasn’t sure that she had anything in common with this wizened old man.

He cackled again, and pointed to her. “You think that you are not, but that is because you are young, and do not know any better.” He coughed again, and spat into the fire. “I have been with the Kanienkehaka for nigh on fifty years now. I came to be with them when I was just twenty-two years old.”

Cam tried to hide her surprise. She had thought he was a lot older than that. “Where did you live before?” she asked politely.

He squinted at her through the smoke, and Cam watched as Wanda took another draw from the pipe. “I was a white man, once.”

Cam nodded. She wasn’t terribly shocked by the revelation. “I was born and raised in Germany. I was studying to be a schoolteacher, of all things. I spoke English, Latin, and French. My name was Otto Ruehle,” he said. “I had a wife and baby son, and then one day they were taken from me. After they died, I came across the sea to the New World,” he recited softly. “Drunk on whiskey and my own misery, I found myself lost, in a strange place. The Kanienkehaka found me, and instead of killing me for sport, they allowed me to live with them. I have been in this village ever since.”

There was silence, as they waited for him to continue. But it seemed as though Man Who Sees Far had said all he had to say.

Wanda spoke up. “We need to get to the English garrison stationed at Fort Wyndham near Philadelphia. Can you make them take us there?”

He shook his head, laughing. “They will take you there, but it is not my place to make them. You are prisoners of war now.”

Cam glanced at Wanda, who was scowling. “Prisoners of war? Why?”

Man Who Sees Far smiled. “The Kanienkehaka are allied with the British. You were traveling with members of Continental forces.”

“Where are they?” Cam asked quickly.

He shrugged. “One is dead. The young one with brown teeth. He put up a great deal of a fight.” He looked right at her with his milky eyes. “He did not die like a man.”

Cam nodded, shivering, getting the feeling that Man Who Sees Far knew exactly what had happened in the woods with O’Toole. She hadn’t liked Gavin O’Toole at all, but the idea of him screaming and pleading for mercy as he was tortured made her cringe just a little.

“And the others?” asked Wanda.

“They are well. They will be taken to the British as well, to trade for guns.”

They learned that Basham and Meador, while somewhat bruised and battered, were still very much alive, and being held in a longhouse not far away. In the morning, they would all leave for Fort Wyndham. The trip would take nearly a fortnight on foot, and Cam thought about the blisters she could already feel swelling on her heels and toes. She shut her eyes, trying not to think about it.

Pointy Club’s real name, they learned, was Kills Bears, which Cam thought was appropriate. Damn Near Drowned Me was actually called Plenty Rabbits, and he was the nephew of Kills Bears.

“Is Kills Bears the chief?” asked Cam curiously.

Man Who Sees Far shook his head. “He is the chief of the war council, but he is not the chief of our village. You will not meet our chief. He is away now.” He squinted at her. “You should be careful around Kills Bears. Do not make him angry. He is only taking you to trade with the British because that is what he was told to do. He would be just as happy to kill you.”

Cam felt a knot form in her stomach. “Why? What have we done?”

“You have done nothing. You are white,” whispered the old man, “and that is the only reason Kills Bears needs.”

Plenty Rabbits came to get them then, and they were led away from Man Who Sees Far. He put them in another longhouse, this one full of women, and there they were fed some chunks of smoked meat. The other women sat far away from them, chattering and pointing at them. One young girl shyly watched them from the corner, and Cam smiled at her tentatively. The girl came over and squatted beside them. Cam guessed her to be about twelve.

“Hello,” said Cam softly.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded to them. “I am Running Stream,” she said gravely.

“You speak English,” smiled Wanda.

The girl did not smile back. “Man Who Sees Far taught me the voice of the white man. He says it will help us some day if we can talk with the whites.”

“Kills Bears speaks a little English,” Cam pointed out.

“Yes,” Running Stream admitted. “But he speaks only words of war. He does not understand that it can be better to speak words of peace.”

“Ah.” Wanda replied. “And you would like to speak words of peace with the whites?”

Running Stream nodded vigorously. “Yes. The whites fight each other, and they ask us to fight for them. They should learn to live together as one people,” she said, a disdainful look on her pretty face.

Cam couldn’t think of a suitable response, so she didn’t say anything at all.

Wanda, struck by a sudden thought, asked, “Will you be coming with us to the British fort when we leave in the morning?”

“Yes. I will talk to the whites at the fort so we can trade you for guns,” she told them matter-of-factly.

Cam curled up on a pile of skins next to Wanda. Her whole body hurt, and she knew that tomorrow would be worse. Man Who Sees Far’s words had reassured her, though. As long as they didn’t anger Kills Bears, they would get to the garrison alive. And, she reflected, as long as Kills Bears thinks Wanda is some sort of wizard or – what did the old man call her? – a medicine woman, he won’t tangle with her. So all things considered, we might just make it there alive.

As she lay there, Running Stream began to speak in her musical voice. The humming noises of the older women ceased, and Cam realized they had gathered around the girl.

“I will tell you the story of how the Kanienkehaka came to be. It was a long time ago,” she said softly, “and there was a world called Sky World. In the center of Sky World grew a great tree, with many different kinds of fruit upon it. A man was given the job of protecting the great tree, so that no one would disturb it. The man got married, and when his wife was heavy with child, she found herself with a desire to eat fruit, but the husband refused to let her eat from the great tree.”

The elderly women tittered amongst themselves.

“Then the woman began to have dreams of a place beneath the tree, and she convinced her husband to dig around the tree’s roots. The woman looked into the hole her husband had dug, but she could not see anything, because it was dark. She leaned over and fell in, but as she fell she grabbed two things. In one hand she held a tobacco leaf, and in the other a strawberry plant.”

Cam glanced sideways at Wanda, who was listening with rapt attention. It was almost like being in Ian’s house, listening to the musical tone of Mollie Duncan’s voice, as she told her tales that she had learned from her father, passed down from one generation to the next.