Salt (4 page)
Authors: Helen Frost
to try to snare some rabbits. I point
to a pile of rabbit droppings in the middle of the trail.
Waapanswa,
I say, and he repeats,
Waapanswa,
smiling because
he's learned another word. But then, not far down the trail,
he points to raccoon droppings and says,
Waapanswa.
Now, that's funny. I put my hands on my head
to look like rabbit ears, and say again:
Waapanswa
. James grins.
Oh,
you mean “rabbit”!
He hops
down the trail to show he knows
what
waapanswa
means. We start laughing.
Then we look up and there's a man I've never seen before,
standing in the shadow of a tree,
watching us.
Who is this man? If he was from Kekionga, Anikwa would know him, and
I would've seen him in the trading post. When he sees us looking at him,
he turns and walks away. I stand here with Anikwa and Toontwaânot
laughing anymore. We follow the trail to where it curves around the pond.
I pick up a flat stone and toss it.
One, two, three ⦠four skips!
I say, holding
up four fingers. Anikwa finds a stone and throws it, holding up one finger
for each skip. His stone sinks after three skips, but he holds up four fingers.
I shake my head:
No, three!
I say, holding up three fingers. He doesn't
argue back; he picks up another stone and skips it five timesâgood ones, too,
you can see the ripples from each bounce. I try again, but I can't get past four.
We head down the river trail. I set my last snare. Then Toontwa and Anikwa
walk toward Kekionga, and I head home, thinking about that man we saw.
Is this what Ma means by “unusual”? Naw. I have to come back tomorrow
to check my snares. What's so unusual about someone standing by a tree?
The person we saw
behind the tree has come to Kekionga. He's
an Ottawa man, named Wedaase. We've eaten together,
and now we're sitting by the fire playing music.
Father on his fiddle, Wedaase on a flute,
Kwaahkwa with the drummers.
Rain Bird and her friends
start dancing, and later, when the music
ends, Kwaahkwa's father starts a conversation:
This war that's coming could make those other wars look easy.
The Americans are marching from the east, the British from the northâ
from what I hear, they're in Detroit right now. The two armies could be here soon,
fighting each otherâfor our land.
Father looks serious. Wedaase goes on,
The British will give guns and ammunition to anyone who helps
fight the Americans. A lot of warriors, from many places,
plan to join the British because after we defeat
the Americans, the British will leave this
part of the country for all the tribes
to share.
Would there be
room hereâfor everyone? If the British win,
won't they want to live here, too? No matter who wins,
the soldiers will be hungry when they're fighting. They'll take our food.
Grandma must be thinking the same thing.
We should hide
our dried meat and corn,
she says.
Isaac's ma comes to our house with Mrs. Graves and Mrs. Carlson.
Ma invites them in but gives them the same look she's been giving Pa,
meaning,
Don't talk about it in front of the children.
They lower their voices.
I go to the washbasin and act like I don't even know they're here,
scrubbing a spot of pine pitch off the back of my hand. Isaac's ma says,
For heaven's sake, Lydia, move into the fort until this is over. The stockade
might protect you from wild animals, but you need soldiers to protect you
fromâ
Ma interrupts:
We will stay in our own home. I have never been
afraid of any of our neighbors.
I glance at the provisions we've stored up
for the winter. If there is a siege like Isaac said, how long will they last?
Mrs. Briggs spits out her next words:
You're brave now, but how brave
will you be when your house is burning? What if they capture James or Molly?
Ma picks Molly up and squeezes her, like she does when she gets mad
at me or Pa. But this time, it's her lady friends she pushes out the door.
Heart-shaped
tracks in soft mud
point to salty places
where deer come to lick
the earth. Something here
they need, something
they like. Heads down,
they lick and lick this
place that tastes
so good to them.
Last winter
an ice storm coated each branch
of the trees by the river trail. Rain started
one evening and froze in the night,
bending tall trees to the ground.
Some branches brokeâ
they hang high
in the treesâand now the wind
is rising. I'm walking with Kwaahkwa,
not far from home. We hear a branch crash down.
Dangerous-sounding. Where is it? Then a sharp cry:
Watch out!
A boy's voiceâis it James? Who's with him?
He might be hunting deer with his father, or maybe
checking his snares. We walk toward the sound,
staying hidden, watching what lies ahead.
Over thereâyes, it is JamesâIsaac
is with him, crying, his leg
pinned under a branch.
That boy is mean.
We don't like him. But we can't
leave them out here alone. I call out,
Aya, niihka.
James answers,
Aya, Anikwa!
Isaac looks scared. Of us?
Don't worry,
James says to him, “
Aya, niihka
”
means
“
Hello, friend
.”
I've never been so glad to see Anikwa. Isaac is crying. I can't lift the branch.
I don't have a saw to cut it. Maybe Anikwa and Kwaahkwa can help us.
But what does Isaac do? He stops crying, pulls his knife out of its sheath,
holds it up, and starts yelling,
Stay away! I'm warning you!
I grab the knife
out of his hand.
What are you doing?
I ask him. Kwaahkwa and Anikwa
stop, step back, and watch. I can't make Isaac stop talking. He whispers,
too loud,
My ma and pa warned me not to talk to Indians. What if they try to
capture us?
He struggles to lift the branch, gives up, and cries out in pain.
His pants are ripped, there's a bruise on his leg, a bloody scratch on his face.
Isaac,
I say
, it will take too long to go to the fort for help. We're closer to Kekionga.
These friends could help us lift the branch.
From the look on his face, you'd think
I told him to crawl right into a bear's den.
Listen to me,
I beg,
don't act like this.
I can't lift the branch by myself. And I can't leave you here all alone.
He sniffles.
All right,
he finally agrees. But when I look up, Anikwa and Kwaahkwa are gone.
What would
he do if we got close enough
to help him? What will happen if we
leave them alone out here?
All the way back
to Kekionga
we talk
about what to do.
Leave him there,
Kwaahkwa argues.
He deserves whatever happens. I'm not going backâ
let him protect himself with his puny maalhseenhsi.
I can't help
laughing about how Isaac waved that knife around like he thought
we were dangerous.
Let's sneak up behind him and growl,
I say. Kwaahkwa laughs. I growl at him,
and he pretends to be scared.
We're almost homeâ
who's behind us?
James calls out,
Aya, niihka.
I look at Kwaahkwa. We stop
and wait for James to catch up. He points
and motions for us to follow him back to Isaac, but Kwaahkwa
points to Kekionga.
Moohci,
he says.
No.
You follow us.
Kekionga smells good: smoke rising up from the houses, deer meat
roasting ⦠and something else, maybe hot corn? Makes me hungry!
Old Raccoon comes out to meet us, and Kwaahkwa starts talking,
pointingâmust be telling him what happened. Old Raccoon looks at me
long and hard.
I'll take you home,
he says. (But ⦠Isaac? We can't leave
him stuck under that branch!) Old Raccoon says something that makes
Kwaahkwa mad. Then he switches to English and tells me,
They'll stay
with your friend. We'll go get help.
Wiinicia gives us each a handful
of corn, still warm, and a piece of hot deer meat. Anikwa and Kwaahkwa
start down the trail while Old Raccoon gets his horse. He boosts me up on it
and gets on behind me. We ride fast, but he takes the long trail that doesn't
go past the fortâmaybe he doesn't want any soldiers to see us. He stops
outside the trading post. I get Pa, and explain everything as fast as I can.
Thank yâ
Pa starts to say, but Old Raccoon has already turned to go home.
We have our
bows and arrows. If we see
a wolf or bobcat come close to Isaac, we know
what to do. Otherwise, we won't
go near him. Does he even
know we're here?
We stand
in the shadows watching.
Doesn't he know he shouldn't cry
like that when he's out in the forest, hurt?
We have to stay here and make sure nothing happens
until James brings someone to help. I wish Isaac would keep
quietâif the animals hear him, they'll know he's
injured. What's that in the trees, moving
toward him? Coming closerâbobcat!
Big one. Kwaahkwa aims
and his arrow flies
straight past
Isaac,
hitting the bobcat
right above the eyes. It takes
a few steps back, then drops to the ground.
Isaac whips his head aroundâ
what just happened?
I tell Ma exactly where Isaac is. Then Pa grabs his saw, and we ride out
to Isaac, while Ma takes Molly and runs to the fort for his parents.
We bring a blanket, a clean white cloth for a bandage, a bottle of water.
When we reach him, Isaac's face is streaked with dirt and tears, and he's
gasping:
They tried to shoot me! I saw them!
He's pointing at Kwaahkwa
and Anikwa, as they walk slowly into the woods.
Watch out,
Isaac yells,
they have bows and arrows!
Bows at their sides, arrows on their backs.
Isaacâbe quiet,
I say. While Pa tries to calm him, I walk to meet Anikwa
and Kwaahkwa. They circle away from Isaac, into the forest behind him,
and Kwaahkwa pulls an arrow out of a dead bobcat's head. I piece together
the story, and go back to tell Isaac.
No,
he insists,
that big boy shot at me
and he missed!
Pa shakes his head.
Never mind,
he says.
Help me saw through
this branch. Easy now.
Isaac's parents arrive.
What happened?
they ask.
Isaac has a whole different story from mineâand they only listen to his.
THIS GAZE, THESE DEEP BROWN EYES
People follow deer
through the forest,
watching where they lick the ground.
The people scrape salt
into their hands, their baskets. They taste
the salt, bring it home.
Again and again, does and bucks and fawns,
porcupines and people,
meet at the salt place.
Wedaase has been
to his home and back. He's talked
to Shawnee, Potawatomi, Wyandot, and Ojibwe people,
and come to sit with us beside our fire again.
Father has said many times,
We'll do all
we can to keep this war away
from our home.
But Wedaase speaks six languages.
He has come a long distance, and everyone
listens with respect.
Brothers and sisters,
he says,
it's time
for us to choose sides. The Americans won't stop until we stop them.
They're determined to have all the land. Yours, oursâeveryone's. That much
is clear to anyone with eyes. If we join the British, and they help us win,
all our nations could live together on the land we still have.
Father is quiet for a long time. He looks around
the fire at everyone, sweeps his gaze
across the sky, over the trees,
to three cardinals,
bright red
