Kindred (4 page)

“Umm …
onútsi?, onúhkwis, okáhla.
”

“Good, good. And now face, mouth, teeth.”

Kindred screwed her face up, the arduous thinking process expending much energy.

“
Okúhsa
,
ohsaká
·
la
,
ona
·
wíla.
”

“Excellent!”

Kindred beamed at Lelaheo’s praise of her linguistic skills.

“Lastly. Wrist, hand, fingers.”

“I can’t recall the first one, but the others are:
osnúsha
?
osnúhsahsú.
”

“Very good!” Lelaheo pulled out the slate he carried to school. “Now see if you can write them as you say them.”

“Enough!” Kindred protested an hour later. “You don’t work on your Latin recitations this long!”

“That is because we do not speak Latin in my village.” He yanked one of her braids. “ Do you want to learn Oneida or not?”

“I do, but ….”

“Then you will.” He handed her the chalk.

Chapter Four

Late July 1776

As Doctor Twain had predicted, Britain’s victory in the French and Indian War over a decade before had whet the colonists’ appetite for freedom. To control their restless subjects, England had levied greater taxes. Higher taxes still left the colonies without representation in Britain. This treatment had led to many

insurrections. As revenge, the English government had passed the Intolerable Acts to coerce the colonies to do their bidding. War ensued, Britain lost. American independence was declared.

Loyalists, which included any Mohawk, Cayuga, Seneca or Onondaga who had sided with the British, were driven out of the Mohawk Valley into Canada. The Tuscarora and Oneida, who sided with the victorious Americans, remained, as did hard feelings on all sides.

****

Hunched over the hall’s business ledger, Doctor Twain ticked off accounts which needed settling. Hearing familiar footsteps in the corridor, he called out. “Joshua, in here, please. I need your expertise with numbers to tie up these loose ends. Also, did you take those papers to my attorney this morning?”

“Father, you still can’t settle your own books? Tsk, tsk. Yes, I took care of it first thing this morning. Mr. Cairn said they would be ready next Wednesday.”

The voice, deep and refined in its articulation, belonged to a now 21 year-old Joshua. The cute, wiry boy had evolved into a handsome, charming, black man. Man, the operative word. Six feet tall, he was commanding, with his proper use of the King’s English, accompanied by impeccable manners. He did not play the role of buffoon or shuffling lackey. People of all hues were in awe of him when he ventured into town to handle Dr. Twain’s business affairs. He had a keen mind for numbers and organization.

As age and infirmity caught up with Rozina, Joshua had taken over more and more of the daily running of Twainhaven. After obtaining power of attorney to act in Dr. Twain’s stead in business matters, Joshua was truly his right hand. Dr. Twain welcomed that. It freed up his time so he could concentrate completely on medicine.

“So, only my magic touch, balances these books?” questioned Joshua, as he entered the room. He sauntered over to the desk, stood behind Douglas. Bending over the doctor’s shoulder, he picked out a column of numbers and ran his finger down the row, rapidly adding the ciphers.

“Seems I do have the magic,” he joked. “Look and add again, Father. You missed an entry.” He tapped his index finger next to the overlooked sum for paying a housewright for a table.

“How did I miss that?” Douglas wondered, lifting and lowering his glasses as if the action would adjust his math.

“Concentrating too hard,” Joshua replied. “Let me check these pages before drafts are written. Go be a doctor. Comfort someone. Leave the account books alone. Please.”

Joshua assisted Douglas by pulling out his chair as he rose.

“Yes, doctoring. Where is Kindred? I need her to accompany me. Lelaheo, also.”

“She is out in the garden with Lelaheo. Collecting, I suppose.” Joshua slipped into the chair.

“Thank you, Joshua.” He patted the young man’s shoulder.

Out in the corridor, Doctor Twain bumped into Rozina.

“Wut time you be home, Doctah Twain? Eets bu’n las’ nite b’kause off’uh yo’ ta’diness. Uh gots to know’uh.”

The corners of Douglas’ mouth turned up in amusement.

“’Zina, does everything run on your timepiece?”

“Timepiece? Uh ent got no timepiece. All uh got iz fud ta cook. An’ sassy wu’ds frum you.” Rozina eased down the hall, her rheumatism slowing her. “Round wut time, Twain?” she called over her shoulder.

“Six o’ clock, woman!” Douglas waved his timepiece at her back.

Dr. Twain grabbed up his bag. Just then Kindred and Lelaheo crashed through the front door, arm in arm, chattering rapidly to each other in Oneida and English.

“Just the people I wanted to see.”

“Really, Father?” piped Kindred.

“How so, Douglas?” added Lelaheo.

“It is a day full of inoculations. I will need both of you to assist me. Joshua is busy with the accounts, so I can devote all of our time to this.” Douglas opened his case. “Umm, not nearly enough. Lelaheo go fetch more needles and thread. Kindred and I will wait for you outside.” Lelaheo rushed off to the surgery, Dr. Twain and Kindred

proceeded out door.

Now 18 years of age, Kindred was fully a woman. A little taller than the average female, and of less than average weight, she warranted a second look. She always kept her coal black, mass of springy hair in two braids and tucked them under a neat, cotton,

head wrap. Soaring cheekbones tested the elasticity of her clear, brown skin. Wide-open coffee-colored eyes, under ebony brows, dominated her short nose and full mouth. Due to her endless movement and boundless energy, she’d cultivated a resistance and vigor at odds with her slightness.

She climbed up into the rig with Dr. Twain’s assistance and waited, hands folded in her lap. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the scent of the new grass. Tipping her face to the sky, she watched a flock of ducks fly overhead. Everything had a purpose,

she ascertained, even them. Granny and Joshua ran Twainhaven. Dr. Twain had his profession and Lelaheo assisted in the surgery and had his sights set on following in the doctor’s footsteps. She mused, what was her purpose? She maintained the apothecary and served as nurse to Dr. Twain when needed. She helped her granny. Was that all her life

was going to be? When in town, she observed wives and mothers. Would she ever wed and have children? She sighed loudly.

“Kindred, is something awry?” asked the doctor as he adjusted the reins.

“No, Father. Just day dreaming.” If he only knew. Something was amiss. Her future. She wanted one badly. With Lelaheo. Kindred’s mouth curved into an unaware smile as Lelaheo approached. She could not believe it. When had he developed into this magnificent male specimen? When had she started to take note? She had always loved him, but when had she
fallen in love
him?

Her heart’s desire carried himself with nonchalant grace. He was the same age as Joshua, but a little taller. Where Joshua was heavily muscled, Lelaheo was lean and sinewy. She knew firsthand because she had fetched enough hot water over the years to fill the tubs he and Joshua would wash up in after chores. She had poured enough water over that body and had watched more than enough suds slip down his gleaming torso and disappear into regions unknown. Silly and serious in turns, he was a mix of boyish and manly. Dressed to match and to accompany Dr. Twain, he wore a periwinkle

waistcoat, white lawn shirt, fawn-colored knee breeches buckled over white stockings and boots. They differed in grooming and accessories. Instead of a stock, he wore a bone, bead and leather necklace bearing the Tree of Peace symbol of his people. Lelaheo eschewed the three-corned hat and went bare-headed. He wore his straight, ink-black hair

in a single braid down his back, secured by a leather tie. A leather belt, slung about his hips held a hunting knife.

“Kinny, what are you grinning about?” Lelaheo asked, placing three muskets, ample powder and shot into the back of the rig, then vaulting up into it.

“Nothing.” She waved her hand. “Just recalling an amusing story.”

“Care to share?” he poked her in the back with an index finger and started to tickle her.

“No!” She half-turned in her seat. “Stop it! You never know when to let well enough alone. Stop!”

“Children!” Dr. Twain shouted. “We are late. Did you bring everything, Lelaheo?”

“Yes, Douglas.” Lelaheo stuck his tongue out at Kindred.

“Let us be off then. We have much to do.” Douglas snapped the reins and the bays turned away from Twainhaven’s entrance. Still half-twisted in her seat, Kindred rolled her eyes at Lelaheo, then faced front.

“They gonna get stuck that way one day, sister.” Lelaheo chuckled and settled into a comfortable spot for the ride into town.

****

A curious side effect of war was disease. To combat it and keep his troops battle-ready, General George Washington demanded variolation for all of his soldiers against smallpox. As a safeguard against the spread of the disease while they moved through the

Valley, the general pressed local physicians into performing this service and setting up specific stations for the purpose. Dr. Twain had been using his surgery to serve the locals, but with this large scale undertaking, he moved his operations to the town square to eliminate hordes of soldiers inundating his property. Dr. Twain pulled up to the

Presbyterian church on the square. The square was a sea of rag-tag soldiers. The Reverend Harkness, still nursing a slight disbelief in his dismissal as tutor to Kindred, Joshua and Lelaheo, years before, offered the old school room as a base for the doctor.

“You are doing the Lord’s work, Doctor Twain. Bless you,” Reverend Harkness shouted. His hearing had declined and he thought that for one to hear him he had to hear himself.

“I thought you told me once to stick to doctoring?”

“Doctor Twain, this task is where God and your science cross paths. Proceed. Good day.” He exited the church in the awkward gait age had visited upon him.

Kindred, Lelaheo and Dr. Twain gathered the variolation specimens from the back of the rig. They entered the old makeshift school room.

“This brings back memories, I must say,” said Lelaheo.

“Not so good ones,” replied Kindred. “My stomach is churning.” She put down a pack of specimens on a chair seat and rubbed her midriff.

“Kinny, you ill?” Lelaheo asked, at her side in a flash. He directed her to the old bench they used to share as children. “You should go home. Douglas and I can do this without you.”

“No. No. I’ll be fine.” She reached up and untied her head wrap, bundling it in her hand. “Just out of sorts today.” Lelaheo brushed his hand over her hair, his touch feather light, tender.

“
Tehsato
tát
!” he commanded.

“I always behave!” Kindred declared, batting his hand away. “Unless I do not want to.
Hao
! Come on! Let us start this task.”

Lelaheo helped Kindred to her feet. The trio began preparing for the long process on the long oak table set up by the windows. The production line consisted of a dish of threaded needles, balls of lamb’s ear and tubes of smallpox specimens. Inoculation consisted of dipping a threaded needle into the specimens, ensuring that it soaked the

cotton. Next, the inoculator chose a spot on the inoculee’s forearm. The inoculator pushed the needle and cotton thread, subcutaneously, then pulled it out thereby introducing the pox directly into the body. Administering inoculations was an artful affair. Even if inoculated, the patient could still develop a full blown case of pox and die, but it was

better than nothing. The four doctors doling out the needles had set up a makeshift inoculation-hospital on the square where the inoculees could wait for whatever degree of pox was going to afflict them and ride out any side effects.

Dr. Twain, Kindred and Lelaheo, amongst others, took turns tending to these patients. The long shifts were tiring, but each retreated to Twainhaven to be succored by Rozina and to return refreshed.

****

On the last day of their mission, Kindred and Lelaheo were in the old school room, arranging the clean instruments, counting them and packing them back into their cases.

“You both rose to the occasion. I am very proud of you,” Dr. Twain said, marching into the quickly emptying room. He walked over to stand between them and wrapped an arm around each. "And you, Lelaheo, will make an excellent doctor. By the by, what did my old mentor in Germany, Herr Doktor Nachman ben Lazer, say in his

missive to you?”

“Herr Doktor ben Lazer?” asked Kindred. “Is he coming to visit?”

“No. Lelaheo has been accepted to the medical school in Köln where Nachman teaches. He will be Lelaheo’s sponsor.”

“Germany?” Kindred’s eyes widened, registering the unbelievable news her ears were hearing.

“Yes, Kindred,” Lelaheo whispered sheepishly. “Kinny, I was going to tell you.”

“Germany?” she repeated, stunned. “I thought you were applying here?”

“Kinny, I can’t wait for the proprietors of schools here to stop dragging their feet about deciding if it is worth it to let a ‘red novelty’ into one of their schools.”

Kindred shook her head, blocking out his words. She switched her plea to Dr. Twain. “Father, you know certain people. Have healed certain important people. Can’t you ask them to help him stay here?”

“Kindred, Lelaheo has had some of the best clinical training by assisting me. He needs more sophisticated training. More classroom theory. He must go where there is space for him,” assured Dr. Twain.

Lelaheo planted himself in her line of sight. “I must go where I am accepted.”

“
Accepted?
What a wry concept.” Kindred retrieved a case from the table and turned for the door. “Congratulations.”

“Kinny. Wait. As I said, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I was not sure myself.” He raced out the door behind her. “Wait!” He grabbed her elbow to still her exodus.