Dawn on a Distant Shore (12 page)

Finally, Curiosity
withdrew to the other room with all three babies, firm in her belief that the discussion
that was about to take place should not include her. Liam too was ready to slip
away, when Elizabeth took his arm and directed him to the group around the
hearth. He hunkered down, his hands dangling over knees that threatened to poke
through homespun breeches, his gaze on the floor. He would not understand very
much of what was said, but still she wanted him there.

Elizabeth had heard
Otter tell stories many times; he had a strong voice and a way with his audience.
But this tale he began in fits and starts, speaking directly to his mother,
focusing on her face alone. He spoke of following Richard Todd to Montréal in
the late summer, of Hawkeye's arrival at the O'seronni New Year, their
preparation to leave Montréal, and the first arrest by Somerville. He told it
all without ever mentioning Giselle Somerville. But when all was said and done,
none of the details mattered. The trouble at hand was more than enough:
Hawkeye, Nathaniel, and Robbie sat in the garrison gaol in Montréal, and with them
Angus Moncrieff.

By the time Otter finished,
Elizabeth had broken out in a fine sweat.

"Somebody sent
for Somerville," Bears said, finally. "Some traitor."

Otter raised one
shoulder. "It looks that way."

Elizabeth pressed her
hands together in her lap. "They were charged with helping you escape?"

Otter's gaze flickered
away from her, as jumpy as the fire in the hearth. "And with spying."

"Spying!"
Hannah jumped up. Many-Doves pulled her back down. Liam shifted uneasily, his
gaze roving from face to face.

"In
peacetime?" Elizabeth asked, her voice crackling dry and unfamiliar in her
throat.

Runs-from-Bears said,
"The English are at war with France."

"Then we are
fortunate not to be French," proposed Many-Doves, frowning at her husband as
if he personally were responsible for the wars Europeans waged upon one
another.

Otter said, "It
is because the Americans stay out of the war with France that the English are suspicious."

"We are not
Americans
,
either," Hannah said defiantly.

Falling-Day said,
"The O'seronni look at Wolf-Running-Fast and Hawkeye and they see what
they want to see. They do not know how to look deeper than the color of their
skin."

"Rab fought under
Schuyler in the last war, and so did Nathaniel," Runs-from-Bears pointed
out.

"Nathaniel fought
with our Kahnyen'kehâka warriors," Falling-Day corrected him.

Elizabeth said,
"In any case, the idea of Nathaniel as a spy for France is absurd, and I'm
sure they are aware of that. It is only an excuse to hold them there."

Hannah's face
crumpled. "They hang spies."

"No," Otter
said quickly. "At least, not straight off. Iona says that Carleton himself
is supposed to question them, but he won't be in Montréal before May. So
there's enough time for Bears to get up there with the gold." He cast an uneasy
glance in Liam's direction, but the boy was watching Hannah, and clearly had
not understood.

Elizabeth held out an
arm and Hannah came to her, her face a misery. "Squirrel," Elizabeth
said, using her Kahnyen'kehâka name. "Do you hear? There is time."
Pray
God
, she added to herself, her mind racing madly over the few facts she
had, and a hundred questions that could not be answered.

Falling-Day turned to
Bears. "You will start north tomorrow. Surely the gold will help."

"The gold will do
no earthly good at all," said Elizabeth softly, smoothing Hannah's hair.
"Bears has no way to know whom to approach. Is that not true?"

Reluctantly,
Runs-from-Bears nodded.

Hannah pulled on
Elizabeth's sleeve. "There must be a way."

"There is a
way," said Elizabeth firmly. "But there is no time to waste. There is
somebody in Albany who can help."

Bears raised a brow.
"Phillip Schuyler won't be any use in Montréal. He and Somerville are old
enemies."

"Perhaps General
Schuyler could not sway Somerville," Elizabeth conceded. "But I doubt
even Somerville would ignore the son and heir of the chief justice of the
King's Bench."

At this switch to
English, Liam sat up with a quizzical look. "By God," he said.
"Who would that be?"

"Cousin Amanda's
husband, Will Spencer, Viscount Durbeyfield," said Hannah. "You remember,
Liam. They came to visit with Elizabeth's aunt in the summer. They haven't gone
back to England yet."

"Spencer is in
Albany?" Otter asked.

"Yes," said
Elizabeth. "I had a letter from them recently."

"Well,
then," said Liam with a great sigh of relief. "Send Will Spencer to
Montréal. He's a lawyer, ain't he? He'll get them out of gaol."

Falling-Day was
watching Elizabeth closely, her head cocked to one side. "Bone-in-Her-Back,"
she said quietly, using Elizabeth's Kahnyen'kehâka name. "Would you send a
man to do work that needs a woman's understanding?"

Elizabeth swallowed
hard. This was the question: would she have her cousin go to Montréal to try to
achieve a political end to this situation, or would she take it in her own
hands? The part of her that was still an English lady of good family could barely
conceive of the idea that she might travel so far in the middle of winter on
men's business, but there was another part, a stronger voice in her now. And
Falling-Day heard it, too, and understood that Elizabeth could not chance
Nathaniel's life, could not stand by while others fought for him.

It was unthinkable,
and she would do it anyway.

"I would
not," Elizabeth said. "I cannot."

"Thayeri,"
said Falling-Day.
It is proper so
.

For the first time
that day, Elizabeth felt she could breathe.

At the open bedroom
door, Curiosity said, "You goin' to take those babies into the
wilderness?"

Elizabeth started, and
came to her feet.

"How could you
even think of such a thing? You always talkin' about bein'
rational
."

"Curiosity,"
Elizabeth said. "Let me tell you--"

"I heard enough.
Don't need to hear no more." And Curiosity turned on her heel and disappeared
back into the bedroom.

"She is the one
you must convince," said Falling-Day, reaching for her sewing. "She
is the first step in this journey."

In the bedroom,
Curiosity was elbow deep in soapy water and dirty swaddling clothes.

"You don't have
to do that," Elizabeth said.

Curiosity hummed her
disagreement and never looked up.

Elizabeth said,
"The way from Albany to Montréal is hardly the wilderness. It is almost as
well traveled as the London Road."

The steady rub and
rush on the washboard did not falter. "Don't talk to me about no London Road.
You got a winter to contend with, here."

"You just told me
yesterday that the worst was over, didn't you?"

Curiosity sat back on
her heels and wiped her cheek with the back of a hand. "Well, I didn't
know you was getting set to go runnin' off with them babies on your back, or I
wouldn't have."

Elizabeth managed a
smile at that. "They brought Blue-Jay through much rougher country six weeks
ago, when the weather was worse. And I won't be on foot."

A long wheeze of
impatience. "What, you intendin' to spread your wings and fly? Oh, I see.
You think the judge just goin' to hand over his sleigh and team to get you as
far as Albany, do you? He'll try to tie you down, and you know it."

"Oh, Curiosity.
He's tried that before, has he not?" With a sigh, Elizabeth sat on the edge
of the bed where the twins lay, kicking and burbling to each other.

With a voice much
steadier than she thought it ought to be, Elizabeth said, "If I do not go,
they will try Nathaniel and Hawkeye and Robbie as spies, with no one there to
speak for them. Would you expect me to sit here and wait for news that they
have been hanged?"

A slight tremor moved
Curiosity's shoulders, but she said nothing.

"You would go, if
it were one of your own."

"You are like one
of my own," Curiosity said, calm now.

"Then help
me," Elizabeth said. "I need your help."

A long silence was
broken only by the gurgling of the babies. Elizabeth sat on the bed she had shared
with her husband and wondered if he would ever walk through the door again, if
she would ever hear his voice. There was a curious numbness in her, a burning
in her eyes that felt like somebody else's tears. She could have no part of
that, not now. With or without Curiosity's help she would do this. Perhaps the older
woman saw all this on her face, for her own expression softened.

"I'll talk the
judge into it and get the sleigh, on one condition."

"I will not leave
my children behind."

"No, missy, you
won't." Curiosity tilted up her chin, the dark eyes snapping. "You won't
leave me behind, either."

Elizabeth suddenly
found herself trembling. She folded her hands in her lap. "You would come
with us?"

Curiosity wiped her
arms with her apron. "Somebody got to keep you out of trouble," she
said. "Let's go see the judge about that sleigh, 'cause I ain't about to
walk."

Hannah's hands would
not work properly. She dropped a bowl, the sewing basket, her horn tablet,
everything she picked up. No one seemed to notice her sudden clumsiness. Her
grandmother and aunt were sorting through clothing, wrapping dried venison in
corn husks, mending snowshoes, getting ready to send Elizabeth and Runs-from-Bears
on a long journey. Bears had gone off to the north face of the mountain to get
the gold; Otter had been given willow-bark tea and sent to bed. Elizabeth and
Curiosity were in the village.

From across the room
Liam caught her gaze, and gestured with his eyes outside.

The stable was their
place to talk. In warmer weather Hannah often shelled beans or ground corn here
while Liam saw to his chores. Now it was empty, the horses boarded at the blacksmith's
for the winter; snow had drifted into every corner.

"Your father and
grandfather will be home safe in another month," Liam said. He sat on an upturned
bucket, his face hatcheted with shadow.

"Yes,"
Hannah said. She swallowed hard to banish the tears that swelled without
warning.

"You're going
with her." Liam pulled his hat from his head to examine the inside of it,
as if the worn crown might tell him what he wanted to hear.

She nodded. "If
she'll let me."

He laughed a little.
"You'll talk her into it. You've been wanting to go off ever since the summer."

Last summer. She had
been desperate with worry through those long weeks when her father and Elizabeth
had been gone, on the run through the endless forests. Liam had still been
living with his brother then, but he had always seemed to show up when she
needed to talk. Now she barely knew what to say to him. If it was in her power
she would leave him behind and go north with Elizabeth and Runs-from-Bears and
Curiosity. He would stay here and split kindling and carry wood and water, clean
possum and skin deer, lay traps. He would be more alone than she had been in
the summer. She had had her grandmother and aunt and uncles.

"You will like
Otter when you get to know him," Hannah said. "He knows all the
secret places on the mountain. He'll show them to you."

"Will he?"
Liam's voice was hoarse.

"You are one of
us now. He will show you."

"I've been
thinking." He never raised his eyes to her. "Maybe I should go stay
with the McGarritys until you get back. The two women can manage with your
uncle here."

"No," Hannah
said, more forcefully than she meant to. "Don't do that. You belong
here."

"So do you."

She blinked.
"She'll need help with my sister and brother--"

His shoulders slumped
in defeat. He nodded.

"You'll
stay?"

Liam would not meet
her eye. "I'll be the only white on Hidden Wolf when you go."

It was like snow on
the back of her neck; the chill ran down her spine to settle in her gut. She
must have made some sound. His head came up and he studied her with eyes the
blue of winter ice.

"I am not
white."

"To me you
are," he said.

The world blurred, the
red-gold of Liam's hair and the bright metal of the traps hung on the wall
colliding in a rusty rainbow. Hannah pressed her hands to her eyes to stop it,
to take away the look on his face. He thought he had paid her a compliment.
I
am the daughter of Sings-from-Books of the Kahnyen'kehâka people, she thought
to say. I am the granddaughter of Falling-Day, great-granddaughter of Made-of-Bones,
great-great-granddaughter of Hawk-Woman, who killed an O'seronni chief with her
own hands and fed his heart to her sons.
These names ran like a river
through her veins, but they meant nothing to Liam. They were not the names of
white women. She opened her mouth to say it again--
I am not white
--but
at her shoulder was another grandmother. Cora Bonner, who had come here to the
edge of the endless forests from across an ocean Hannah had never even seen.
Granny Cora, with her fair skin and eyes of indigo blue and her gentle smile
that hid a will as hard as flint. From her Scots grandmother Hannah had gifts
she could not deny: a love of song, an appetite for words on the page, a talent
for languages, the desire to roam.
I am not white
: it was only one part
of the truth.