Into the Wilderness (54 page)

Bears
had pulled back the rough pelt that served as a door, hooking it back over a
great rusty nail on the wall. He called in, a kind of whooping hello in
Kahnyen’keháka and then in English.

When
it was clear they were on their own, they made themselves comfortable in the
clearing. Bears set to butchering and cleaning the buck. While Elizabeth knew
that she should watch this process, she was glad to forgo the lesson for the
moment to fetch water from a mountain spring behind the cabin. She filled the
cavernous iron kettle and began to cut the chunks of meat he passed to her into
pieces, using a flat rock as her board, and shooing away flies with
ever—increasing irritation.

They
worked for a few hours, until there was a stew cooking over the fire pit:
venison and wild onions she found growing nearby, dried beans and squash and
corn from the stores in the cabin. The smell of it made her stomach growl, but
this was such a common experience in the recent days that she had learned not
to be embarrassed by it. The rest of the meat Bears hung on hooks inside a
hollow tree stump as high as himself. It was capped by a little shingled roof,
and it had a door on leather hinges. There was a pile of split oak under a
tarpaulin, and he used this to start a slow fire in the bottom of the tree
trunk. He showed Elizabeth how to feed the fire, which would burn for days
until the meat was thoroughly smoked.

He
had held back some of the raw liver, and he offered her a strip.

"Makes
the blood strong," he explained.

She
could put it on a stick and thrust it into the flames, or she could do as he
did and chew it raw. Elizabeth saw him grin at her, and so she ate it raw to
show him that she could.

Her
handkerchief, now in a truly deplorable state, could not deal with her bloodied
fingers and dirty hands, and so she went to wash in the spring. In that quiet
corner between the cabin and the mountain, she took a few minutes to think on
her own. It occurred to her that she had now spent more time with
Runs-from-Bears than she had ever spent with Nathaniel. This was not a welcome
thought, as much as she was coming to like him. She could hear Bears singing
softly to himself. The black fly song; he had taught it to her, and she hummed
along.

"The
black fly is bringing a message

He's
coming to tell us how poor he is.

The
truth of the matter is,

He is
so old—fashioned and brings

always
the same old message.

She
washed out her handkerchief and then used it to clean her hands and face and
neck. Even with only cold water and without soap or other conveniences, she
felt better for it. Elizabeth listened to Bears while she un plaited her hair
and finger—combed it, sorting out every tangle until her hair fairly stood on
end, snapping and crackling with energy. There was a clean shift in her pack,
an appealing idea, but then Elizabeth looked down at herself and decided that
she would wait to change until she could have some sort of bath, even if it was
in the cold waters of the lake they had passed on the way to the cabin, the one
called Little Lost. With a sigh, she spread her wet handkerchief on a rock in
the sun and walked back around the corner to the clearing. There she stopped
short, for Bears was no longer alone.

* * *

He
was without a doubt the biggest man she had ever seen. Far bigger than her
uncle Merriweather, who dwarfed all the men of the neighborhood. Bigger than
Bears by half a head, at least, and half again as broad. Not fat, certainly,
but layered with slabs of muscle. When he turned toward her it seemed to take
forever, and to go on with the thoughtfulness of a tree flexing in the wind. He
was old, more than seventy: the great sweeping mustache, his eyebrows, and the
hair tied to a tail at the nape of his neck were blindingly white. His eyes,
slate—blue, peered out at her from a nest of wrinkles.

Two
things happened when their gazes met, both of which surprised Elizabeth. He
smiled shyly, revealing a set of teeth as astoundingly white as his hair, and
at the same time he blushed a shade of scarlet she had never before seen on any
human being, male or female. This change in color was so furious, fast, and
profound, and it flared so bright in contrast to his hair and teeth, that she
was immediately put in mind of aunt Merriweather's prize rose campion, rose—red
blossoms with their cover of woolly white down. Her own smile faltered to see
him color so, for she thought that he must be uneasy about her sudden
appearance.

He
had pulled the cap from his head and stood at attention, although he did not
look away.

"So
here she is, then," he said. His voice was soft and somewhat higher than
she would have guessed, on the basis of his size.

"But
look at her, she's nae but a great mass o' hair and eyes sac big as moons. A
bonnie thing, tae be sure, but ower young tae be oot traipsin' through the bush
withe likes o' you, Bears." He bowed in Elizabeth's direction with tight
military precision. "So there's nocht tae do but make ours el acquaint'.
Robert MacLachlan, at your service, Mistress Bonner."

"Please."
Elizabeth glanced at Bears, who was clearly content to stand back and watch her
handle this encounter on her own. "Please do call me Elizabeth."

"Oh,
no, that wa dna do." His color had faded somewhat, but then he tilted his
head hopefully and it flared again.

"I
would like you to," she said. "I would be honored."

"Wad
ye noo? And wha' will ye call me, then?"

"Whatever
you like." Elizabeth laughed.

"Aye
weel. Ma mither called me Rob, and most o' ma friends call me Robbie, but Cora
Bonner, bless her immortal soul, Cora called me Robin."

"For
bonny sweet Robin is all my joy," quoted Elizabeth, and she thought that
he might ignite, so bright did he blush. "From Shakespeare," she
explained, embarrassed for herself more than for him.

"Oh,
aye.
Hamlet
. Though the man borrowed Sweet Robin fra' an auld Scots
song." He threw her a sideways glance. "But he put it tae guid use,
wi'
Hamlet
. Will ye read aloud, then, if ye're asked nicely?"

"I
have done," she said solemnly. "Though I have no books with me."

He
waved a hand dismissively. "Aye, but I do. Great lot o' good it does me,
though, for ma eyes canna manage the print on the page these days. Muny's the
evenin' I spent at Lake in the Clouds listenin' tae Cora read, and readin' in
turn." He raised one perfect eyebrow. "She was a rare woman, was
Cora."

"So
everyone tells me," Elizabeth said. "But I see the evidence of it, in
her son."

He
smiled at that. "Aye, so ye must, tae hae marrit the man. Ne'er took a
wife, myself', for the only one wha' wad hae suited me had been langsyne
acquent wi' Hawkeye by the time I met her. Forbye, her fait her wa dna hae
looked kindly on me, wi' me bein' nought but a common sodjer. Mind you, 'gin
Hawkeye ha dna seen her first—" His color sputtered like the flame of a
poorly cleaned wick. "But wha' am I thinkin'? I'll fetch ye sum thing—wad
ye care for a wee bit o' ale? Yon venison is ripe for the eatin'. Come and set
yersel', lass. No, bide a while, that log's no' a suitable place." He
stood scratching his head for a moment and then walked over to the woodpile.
After a moment's consideration, he went down on his knees to heft a stump which
Elizabeth would not have been able to span with both arms. It was as high as
her knee, and it made a considerable thud when he set it on the ground. Then he
fetched a fox pelt from the cabin and spread it neatly.

"You'll
set better so," he said with a shy smile.

After
quite a bit of back and forth, attention to the fire, and concern for
Elizabeth's comfort, they were finally settled around the pit with bowls of
stew, Elizabeth on her makeshift throne and the men with their legs stretched
before them. Robbie insisted that she take his only spoon, a great scoop like
affair carved of wood which looked quite reasonable in his own tremendous fist
but dwarfed Elizabeth's. The stew was hot enough to burn her mouth, but she ate
the fresh meat with great pleasure. Runs-from-Bears showed his usual abstemious
ness eating quickly and then leaving them to go back to work on the hide, close
enough to hear without taking part in the conversation. Robbie ate slowly,
although Elizabeth wondered that he managed at all between his solicitous concern
for her comfort and the stories he had to tell of Cora and how he had met her
when she was visiting her father.

"I
could dna bring masel' tae like the man—a better officer you could dna find,
but he was as crab bit as an auld witch. Noo, there was a mannie wi gey few
pleasantries aboot him. Yon yin had a glower that wad frichten a
magistrate."

"But
you would have overlooked sour looks, I expect, for Cora," Elizabeth
pointed out, smiling both at his easy pragmatism and the way it suited his
language, so broad and throaty, r's rolled and t's swallowed with a distinct
Scots hiccup. It would have set her own brow on high a few months ago, but she
had lost many of those preconceptions that she brought with her from England.

"Aye,
and muny times ower, for her sake."

When
Elizabeth had had her fill she listened quietly with the empty bowl in her lap,
asking questions now and then but mostly content to let Robbie's memories take
her along with him.

"And
she brought a fine son into the world, and he grew up into a fine man, and noo
he's yer own. But here ye sit, lass, and while I'm pleased tae hae your
company, I'm wonderin' where he is, that new gudeman of yours, and why he's
sent ye into the bush this way. Bears just said there was trouble."

For
all his blushes, there was a keen intelligence to Robbie MacLachlan and
Elizabeth thought he would see through partial truths quite easily. It was
clear to her that Nathaniel trusted this man implicitly, and beyond that there
was something about him which set her at ease. He was looking at her now with a
quiet expectation, good humor and understanding on his broad features.

"There
is a dispute," she began. "About some property, and who has a right
to it. It belongs to me, and now to us, but there is someone else who believes
he has a prior claim. Nathaniel is in Albany, to resolve the question."

"But
he was worrit for ye, otherwise he wa dna hae sent ye awa' from him."

She
nodded. "The other party is fairly insistent on his claim."

"A
claim tae ye, or the lan'?"

"Both,"
she said.

He
grinned. "Aye, wed. He's no' daft. There's nae truth to his claim?"

"I
have legal title and I am legally wed," Elizabeth said. "But he will
not accept either as truth."

Robbie
shook his head. "There's nane sae blind as he wha' winna see."

Bears
had looked up from his work; Elizabeth felt his attention on her and sent a
look his way, but he was not ready to speak.

"This
person has threatened me with a warrant to appear before the magistrate in
Albany," Elizabeth concluded. "And as I did not care to be forced,
here I am."

Robbie
MacLachlan's anger had a color all its own, a deeper, more vibrant red that
flowed down to mottle the soft flesh of his neck.

"Forced?"
he said very softly. "No, I'll no' accept that. And neither wad
Nathaniel."

"He
didn't," Elizabeth agreed. "It was unpleasant."

"Aye,
lass, that I can wed imagine. Who is the blaggart?"

Runs-from-Bears
cleared his throat. "Irtakohsaks," he said.

Robbie
started at this name, turning away from Elizabeth.

"Irtakohsaks?
Cat—Eater?" he asked, incredulous. "Then I mun take it back, he is
bluidy daft bugger, is Cat—Eater." His color flared. "Ye'll excuse my
rough tongue, lass. I've been too long wi' only masel' for company. But
Cat—Eater! And it canna be other than Hidden Wolf he's wantin'."

Bears
nodded.

"Cat—Eater,"
Elizabeth echoed. "Is that Richard's Kahnyen’keháka name? I've never heard
it before."

"And
you won't use it to his face, not unless you've got a musket primed in your
hand," said Bears with one of his rare grins.

"Cat—Eater.
You wa dna think it tae look at him, wad ye, the cool that he's become. Awed,
I'll hae the tale in peace this e'en, but I'm sorry tae say I hae work tae
do." He stood with a great groan. "Ye've been four days i' the bush,
as I under stan it, and I'll miss ma guess if ye wa dna like some hot water and
a wee bit o' time tae yersel'."

Elizabeth
paused. "Hot water?"

He
nodded solemnly. "Oh, aye. I see Bears kept the best for a surprise. Come
this way, my dear, and see. And bring your things, ye'll have need o'
them."

* * *

The
cabin was built not onto the side of the mountain, Elizabeth realized as soon
as she stepped in past the great pelt at the door, but into it. The room she
found herself in was very small, and practically empty; a small barrel, some
dried meat and other foods hanging from rafters, pelts stretched on racks, but
otherwise no sign of habitation. No place to sit or sleep at all, no hearth.
But there was a great wooden door of an unusual shape, carved to fit the
natural opening in the wall of rock. Robbie gave it a push, and it swung
silently inward. Then he ducked and disappeared inside. There was some
rumbling, followed by a spark of light which grew into a steady small flame in
the open doorway. Robbie's head and shoulders appeared, a small lantern of pierced
tin in one hand. He gestured her forward, his color flushing bright.