Into the Wilderness (55 page)

Elizabeth
followed him gamely through a chain of small caves crowded with his things, the
tools of his trade, primarily, but also less expected items: a small bookcase,
filled to bursting; an open box filled with seashells Elizabeth looked again,
unwilling to believe her eyes, but there they were; and hung on one rock wall,
a small but exquisite oil painting of a horse in a peeling gilt frame. She saw
these things as the small circle of light bobbed past with Robbie's step, and
then they disappeared again into the dark. Ahead of them was the persistent
sound of dripping water, and a heavy, mineral—laden smell. Elizabeth could not
see far ahead of herself, for Robbie's great expanse of back blocked the way.
There were a number of natural chambers, some empty, and some set up as living
or storage space. He showed her one with a narrow cot which she could use for
her own, and then moved on to the next.

"There's
light here, in the day, dye see? The spa it in yon wall isna so verra great
that the beasties could get it, but the fresh air is a fine thing. And wi'oot
it I could dna cook here in the winter."

Elizabeth
saw that there was in fact a cleft in the ceiling of the natural chamber before
them. It crested like a moon, with a wide center tapering at both ends. On the
swept rock floor there was evidence of a small fire pit.

"O'
course, this isna a guid spot tae set when it's raining," Robbie conceded.
He looked thoughtful.

"Tell
me, lass, what name does Nathaniel hae for ye? Does he call ye Lizzie?"

"My
brother calls me Lizzie, but Nathaniel has got into the habit of calling me
Boots."

Robbie's
laughter echoed in the caves. "Boots? Aye, and it suits ye weel. Did ye
ken that the newest and youngest officer in any Tory regiment is called
Boots?"

"I
wasn't aware," Elizabeth said with a dry smile.

He
set off again through the corridor. "Boots. It's no' sae bad as Lizzie,
dinna ye think?"

Elizabeth
did agree. "By whatever name you care to call me, Robbie, I am finding it
increasingly warm the farther back we walk. Do you sleep here in the
winter?" She had begun to perspire.

"Aye,
as the season moves along, so do I." He nodded. "By January I've
settled doon back here."

They
had come to the end of the corridor, which widened into a cave just tall enough
for Robbie to stand in. The walls shimmered wet in the light of the lantern and
then flared bright as he set his flame to a torch set in the wall. The floor
was even, but about five feet from where they stood it sloped away suddenly
into a dark pool of water, fed by a trickle down the far wall. In the small
space before the pool began there was evidence of Robbie's long habitation of
this place. A cot, neatly made, shelves, a rough table.

"It
is a fine wee bit o' water, this." He turned to Elizabeth with one brow
raised. "Can ye swim?"

She
shook her head, feeling her hair beginning to curl and stick to her dampening
face and neck.

"Aye,
I feared so. Nathaniel must teach ye, then, for it's nae good, not knowin' how
tae swim in the bush."

Elizabeth's
face fell. The sudden and unexpected gift of a hot bath in complete privacy was
something she could not easily relinquish.

"Noo,
lass. Ye'll hae your bath. Just take care that ye gae nae further than the
rope." He picked up a coiled line which lay on the ground with one end
knotted securely to a bolt in the wall, and gave the other to Elizabeth.
"The floor drops oot, sudden, and we'll no' hae accidents wi' Nathaniel
Bonner's new wife."

He
looked around himself. "There's drinking water there in the jug, for the
spring water isna pleasant, for a' it's a fine tonic. Be sure and drink, lass,
for ye'll sweat here like ye've ne'er sweated afore. And nae more than a few
minutes in the water, the first time, until ye've had a chance tae accommodate
yersel' tae the heat. Will that serve?"

It
did serve. When Elizabeth had the cave to herself she undressed in the small
light of the lantern, and then with some hesitancy immersed herself in the warm
water. Elizabeth took her minutes and more, and then reluctantly emerged to
wrap herself in the rough blanket Robbie had left for her. She had meant to
take the opportunity to wash her linen, but once on the edge of the bed,
tingling from the pleasure of the soaking, her muscles loose and her hair
wrapped around her head, she fell into a good and restful sleep, and she stayed
there for many hours.

* * *

"Do
ye ken where ye are?" Robbie asked. He stepped back from Elizabeth and
looked around himself as if he were as unfamiliar with this part of the world
as she was. "Do ye ken north fra' south?"

They
were on their way down to the river to fish, and after just a day in his care,
it was clear to Elizabeth that Robbie was as much a teacher as Runs-from-Bears.
Their progress was slow, for he found it necessary to point out to her
everything edible in their path. Now, in reply to his question, Elizabeth
studied the sky, what she could see of it. There was no hope of determining the
position of the sun. With a bit of an apologetic smile, she shook her head at
Robbie.

"That,"
he said, his brow furrowing, "wilma do. Ye must be able tae set off richt
if ye dinna want tae gang agley." He was slipping more and more into Scots
as the day went on. Elizabeth sometimes had trouble understanding him, but thus
far he had always been aware when she became confused, and then he repeated
himself as he did now. Slowly, saying exactly the same thing.

"You
know," Elizabeth decided to point out to him. "Perhaps it's a big
enough challenge learning Kahnyen’keháka right now, without adding Scots to my
lesson plan. As much as it would interest me—" she added hastily, seeing
his raised brow.

"Aye,
and weel ye should learn Scots, ma dear," said Robbie. "For there's
nae better tongue for settin' a man richt. Cora could make her men wither an'
wilt wi' it when the mood was on her, though she could talk English wino' a
trace of the Scots when she chose—which was seldom the case, sac lang I kent
her. Nathaniel can be a feisty deil betimes, and ye'll hae need o' Scots enough
tae put him in his place."

"No
doubt!" laughed Elizabeth. "But at the moment, don't you think it
would be sufficient if I learned north from south?"

Robbie
scratched his head thoughtfully. "Aye," he said finally. "Ye've
the richt o' it, lass. And p'rhaps makin' a Scots woman o' thee is no' the best
thing tae be doin'. Ye've done wed for yersel', so as ye stan'." He walked
over to a pine and ran a large fist down its branch, coming away with a few
needles. These he held out to Elizabeth.

"Take
the straightest, stoutest one there. Aye, that'll do."

Elizabeth
wondered what good a single pine needle might be when she was lost in the bush,
given the fact that there were millions upon millions of them around her, but
she thought it best to bide her time.

"Now,"
said Robbie. "Wha' we need is a bit o' silk."

"Oh,"
said Elizabeth. "I have a silk ribbon, but it's back with my things."
The thought of the ribbon she had worn in her hair for her wedding made her
stop suddenly.

"Nathaniel's
on yer mind," said Robbie. "It stands writ on yer face. Well, lass,
if it's any comfort at a', there's nae man whose word I trust more, unless it's
his fait her He cleared his throat. "And if ye'll permit me an
observation, he's done wed for his el has Nathaniel. He deserves a guid woman,
and I'm glad tae see him wi' one.

"Do
you think he was lonely?" asked Elizabeth, and was surprised at herself to
have spoken this question out loud.

But
Robbie did not seem surprised. "His good fortune is, he need be lonely nae
longer."

Elizabeth
looked down at the pine needle lying on her palm. "Did you know
Sarah?" she asked, and felt her throat swell with this, with the saying of
the name which preoccupied her to such a degree.

"I
did." Robbie hesitated, and then began to rumble about in the pouch on his
belt. At length he pulled out a handful of bullet patches, which he stirred
with his thumb.

"Silk
patches are the best thing when your target's far off an' less than willin' tae
stan quiet," he explained. But he looked up from his palm at Elizabeth thoughtfully.

"Sarah
was a comely lass," he said softly. "But she was no' the richt wife
for Nathaniel."

The
pale yellow silk looked very out of place between his two thick fingers.

"It's
ten year or more since I put this bit of silk by, thinkin' someday I might have
need o' some careful shootin'. So, my dear, listen noo, and closely. Stroke the
needle gently with the silk—that's right. We want it tae bristle. Let me see
yer face. Wha' e'es ye've got, lass, the color of the sky when the gloamin's
fadin' fast. Noo, rub your finger on yer forehead, there, where there's a
sheen. Wha' ye must do, and gently, mind, is tae stroke the oil fra' yer finger
onto the needle. Can ye manage? Lovely."

They
stood with their heads bent over Elizabeth's palm.

"The
Kahnyen’keháka women are an unco' strong race," said Robbie.
"Stronger than will suit most men."

Elizabeth
frowned. "Nathaniel certainly knew enough about the Kahnyen’keháka. That
couldn't have been a surprise to him. And he doesn't seem to be afraid of
strong women."

She
realized how defensive she had sounded, but Robbie's smile was understanding.

"Aye,"
he said. "His mither was a strong woman, and he found one agin in ye. But
there's nae denyin' it, the Kahnyen’keháka women take things in their own hands
the way ye wadnae think tae do."

Elizabeth
thought of Richard's claims, and she stilled suddenly.

"It
runs contrary tae everythin' ye've been told aboot richt and wrong," said
Robbie. "But I've no' a question that ye'd find satisfaction withe Mohawk
way yersel', if ye had tae live it."

"I
doubt that," Elizabeth muttered.

"Oh,
but think," said Robbie easily. "Neera man tae run yer life. The long
house ye live in belongs tae your mither, and one day may be your own tae do
wi' as ye see fit. The hairns are yours, and the getting' o' them—" He
paused and flushed.

"As
a marrit woman, perhaps ye'll permit me tae say more than I should. The
getting' o' bairns is a woman's business, ye see, among the Kahnyen’keháka. She
may take a man and he may suit her wed, but if he doesna, then she can turn tae
another and nae one will say her nay. Includin' her own man."

Elizabeth
looked up at him, shocked.

"A
man would not tolerate such behavior," she said.

"But
ye're wrong there, lassie. A Kahnyen’keháka wad thole it, an' ye'll look far and
wide i' the world for a better race o' men, braw and bonnie. Noo mind, I'm no'
sayin' that he wa dna dislike it. Kahnyen’keháka are prideful people. But it is
their way, or it was, before they scattered and left their
homelands.

He
turned his attention to the pine needle. Plucking a single white hair from his
head, he made a loop of it between thumb and forefinger. This he offered to
Elizabeth, and she took it.

"Slip
it under the wee needle so ye can lift it, and wha ye must do, lass, is tae let
the needle float on the top o' the dub in yon dail stump at your knee. The
water, ye ken, poohn' there. Mind noo, if it goes under we mun start
afresh."

Robbie
glanced at her, for she was staring at him.

"Go
on, then, see if ye can make it float."

Reluctantly,
Elizabeth turned to this task. Trying to gather her concentration, she did as
she was directed. When the needle landed gently on the water, she slipped the
hair away. From his pocket, Robbie took his own compass and compared it to the
pine needle, which turned slowly and then stopped.

"So,"
he said, quite visibly pleased. "Ye've made a compass."

"Yes,"
she said quietly.

He
cleared his throat. "I see I've told ye sum thing ye didna know about the
Kahnyen’keháka, and it doesna meet wi' your approval."

"A
child not being able to name her father with certainty does not seem to me a
good way of ordering things, no," Elizabeth agreed.

"Oh,
but ye've misunderstood," said Robbie. "If the woman has took guidman
then her bairns are his. He will claim them, and be glad o' them, too, and
provide for them a'."

"But
why would she want another man," Elizabeth said, and she heard the
confusion and irritation in her own voice. "If she had the choice to start
with, and if she loves him?"

Robbie
inclined his head. "’Gin she loves him, why I suppose then she wa dna want
another," he agreed. "Unless he could dna do for her wha' she needed
done."

Elizabeth
drew in a sharp breath. "Are you saying that Nathaniel wasn't enough of a
husband to Sarah?"

"No,"
said Robbie clearly. "I didna say that. Tae be clear, lass, and nae
mistake. it wasna Nathaniel alone wha' was at fault. They call him Deseroken,
but it was Sarah wha' was caught betwixt the red and the white."