Salt (6 page)

saying “if the war starts.” Now they're saying “when.”) Isaac gets an idea.

James,
he says,
you could come with us, even if your ma won't go.
Ma stares

at him and doesn't say no right away—is she thinking of sending me,

without her or Pa? She'd keep Molly here, and I'd go to Piqua by myself?

Isaac acts like she said yes.
It'll be more fun with you along. We get to camp

out by a lake—they say there's some big walleyes in it.
Like this is a fishing trip

where nothing could go wrong. I step back, away from Isaac. Mrs. Briggs

keeps arguing,
We'll have five soldiers to protect us.
Ma firmly answers,
No.

Armed soldiers might make the trip more dangerous
. Mrs. Briggs says,
We're

trying to find two Indian guides to go with us.
Would anyone do that for them?

ANIKWA

Father

and Mink and Grandma

are still trying to find a way to stop this war,

or to keep it away from our home.

But everyone knows it's

coming. Father

has to make

a hard decision. He tells us,

All the women and children are leaving the fort,

going to Piqua. They've asked us for guides to protect them.

A few people laugh at this. Father holds up his hand.
Some of these

people are our friends and relatives. They will be safer if we offer our help.

We know, better than they do—they're unlikely to survive without us.

All these may be good reasons to help them, but none

are good enough.
It sounds like he's decided

not to go, and not to ask anyone else

to make this dangerous trip.

There is one more thing

to think about,

he says.
Maybe if we help

them, the Americans will see that we are not

their enemies. If we do this, will they help us keep peace here?

Piyeeto, our Shawnee friend, speaks up:
I will go.

And Father says,
So will I.

JAMES

Last week, this would have been ordinary food. Now it looks like a feast:

corn bread, cheese, hard-boiled eggs—a basket of food Ma's sending with

the people going to Piqua. When my stomach growls, she says,
They'll need it

more than we do.
Isaac's trying to act like he's glad to be going, but he keeps

chewing on his lip—he can't stop it from quivering. He gets on the horse,

trying hard to smile, and Mr. Briggs lifts Becca up in front of him.
Take care

of your ma and sister, Son,
he says. How does he expect Isaac to do that?

Everyone knows how many dangerous things could happen on this trip.

Ma taps Pa on his arm and nods toward the front of the line. Old Raccoon?

He's going along? And someone else at the back.
Who's that?
I ask.

Pa answers,
A Shawnee named Piyeeto who knows the trails and language

where they're going.
As Old Raccoon starts down the trail, Pa rests his hand

on my shoulder, and we watch until the last horse disappears around the bend

into the forest. Then Pa goes to the fort, and I walk home with Ma and Molly.

THE DEER'S LIFE AND OUR LIFE

Sun lit its path

and warmed it.

Earth gave it food.

Rain quenched its thirst.

Salt kept it strong.

Now its life will be ours:

food, strength, warmth.

We give thanks

for earth, rain, sun.

For salt. For deer.

ANIKWA

We light

a fire. We will keep it burning

until Father and Piyeeto return home.

Kwaahkwa stands in the circle

of the fire's light, holding

a bowl of soup,

and he shines

like a grown man.

He has joined the other men,

from here and other places, as they prepare

to run back and forth past the fort all day and night,

keeping all the soldiers inside until the British army arrives.

When the soldiers in the fort look out and see all our men

running, and hear them singing all night and all day,

we hope they will think there are more warriors

than there really are, and they will be afraid

to leave the fort. This is what we

have heard them call

a “siege.”

I'm glad to know

the children and their mothers

are not there—James and Mrs. Gray

and baby Molly should be

at Piqua now.

JAMES

I follow a raindrop down the window with my finger. When it gets to the bottom,

I find another one to follow. Nothing to do. Even if there was—no one to do it with.

I'm hungry! There's a squirrel up in that tree, looking right at me. I could get it

with my slingshot—easy. Or I could set a snare and catch a rabbit. Maybe two.

This time tomorrow we could be eating fried rabbit instead of soggy oatmeal.

Pa told us what's about to happen—maybe tomorrow, next day at the latest—

the fort will be surrounded by a lot of Indians we don't know, all of them hoping

the Americans won't get here in time, and we'll surrender when the British come.

But the way I see it—that hasn't happened yet. This might be my last chance to slip

out for a few minutes. Pa's at the fort, like he is every afternoon. Pretty soon,

Molly will take a nap. Usually Ma falls asleep when Molly does, long enough

for me to run a little ways along the trail, set my snares, and still get back

before she wakes up. The rain is slowing down, almost stopped. I slip three snares

into my pocket. Molly's yawning. So is Ma. They both close their eyes. Here I go.

ANIKWA

What's this?

It looks like James's snare.

He must have set it before he went to Piqua,

so he doesn't know he caught a rabbit.

Father and Piyeeto will be back

in a few days, but the women

and children will stay

a while longer. What should I do?

This rabbit was just caught—it's still warm.

I'd better take it out before a hungry paapankamwa

comes along, flashing his bushy red tail, showing off those

big sharp teeth. I'd give this rabbit to James's father if I could,

but since the trading post is closed, I'll have to take it home.

Here's another snare—looks like I got here too late—only

a tuft of brown fur, left over from paapankamwa's

rabbit feast. There might be another one

probably not far along the trail.

I know where to look.

Here it is,

empty, like the last one.

Paapankamwa must be hungry.

I'll leave the empty snares where I found them

for James to find when he

comes back.

JAMES

My mouth is watering for rabbit meat. My stomach's growling again.
Go check

your snares,
it says.
Hurry, before a fox finds them.
Drowning out Ma and Pa's

warnings. They don't know I went out yesterday—lucky for me. Pa is

over at the fort again. Molly's fast asleep, and Ma's eyes are closing. If I go

soon and come straight home, they won't even know I've left till I get back,

and I won't tell them unless I have a rabbit for our supper. Like yesterday—

open the door, slip out, close it. (Glad there's no ladies around to spy on me.)

I run to the loose board, push through, and take the path around the pond.

A beaver slaps his tail and dives. I don't wait to see where he comes up.

I watch the trail ahead, look all around—don't see anyone. Here's my first

snare. Dang! Empty except for a piece of rabbit fluff. Something got to it

before I did—probably a fox. Shoot! Second one's empty, too. That fox family

is having a feast. I should put out fox traps so they get caught before they steal

my rabbits. One more snare to check. Gotta get home before Ma wakes up.

ANIKWA

I'm walking

along, thinking about

something Wedaase said last night:

We would all be better off if we

kept explorers, soldiers,

traders, settlers, and

missionaries

far away from here. If we can't

push them back behind the mountains, we can

at least try to keep them on the other side of the Ohio River.

What would our life be like without any of those people? Do we

need the trading post
?
Wedaase says,
Our grandparents got along fine

without trade goods, not so long ago, and we could do it again now.

Maybe we have all the cooking pots we need. How about

rifles? Needles. Cloth. Could we make our clothes

like old-time people used to? We don't need

their food. I'd be happy if I never

saw Isaac again. I might

miss James.

(He'd miss me more.)

I wonder how he's doing at Piqua. Father

should be back soon. What? Who's that on the trail?

It looks like James … walking

right toward me!

JAMES

Hey! There's Anikwa, walking off with my rabbit! I thought

it was a fox that got them. But now I see what really happened—

Anikwa stole them! So it's true, what Pa said—sometimes it's hard

to say who our friends are
.
Looks like Anikwa turned into my enemy!

Well, if that's what happened, I know how to get my rabbit back.

I raise my arm to punch Anikwa. He drops the rabbit, grabs my arm,

stares at me like I'm a stranger. We've never fought before—I've always

thought I'd beat him if we did, but now I'm not so sure. He shoves me

and I fall in the mud. (Dang. Ma will find out everything.) Anikwa says

something I don't understand. “Papa come on?” Why can't he talk English?

He turns toward the rabbit, but I grab his foot so he falls in the mud, and he

can't reach it. I'm so hungry, I can taste that rabbit! I hold Anikwa down

with one arm and grab the rabbit with the other. Then I get up and run.

When I stop and look back, Anikwa is standing on the trail. Watching me.

ANIKWA

He thinks

I stole that waapanswa

from his snare! I tried to tell him,
It was

paapankamwa, not me!
But I couldn't

think of his word while he was

trying to punch me!

(Is it “fox”?)

Why can't he speak

our language? He's lived here

all his life, he should have learned by now.

Maybe it's true, what Wedaase said:
That kind of cousin

can turn his back on you.
Now I wish James
had
gone to Piqua.

He didn't hurt me any. I could have pushed him harder if I

wanted to. That crow flew up into a tree and now he's

laughing at me. I say,
You might taste just as good

as waapanswa.
He stops laughing, flies ahead

of me all the way home. Seems like

he wants to keep laughing,

but instead he's

saying,
James, ha ha, James.

Calling me names and teasing me for

getting pushed in the mud by a mih
Å 
i-maalhseensa.

Wedaase is right—we don't need

any of them.

JAMES

I stop at the pond and wash up—better to go home wet than muddy.

Anikwa never stole from me before. I would've given him a rabbit if

I got more than one. Why did he go and steal one before I had a chance?

Look at that beaver carrying branches into its house for winter food.

Most years, about this time, we're storing food for winter, too. Butchering pigs,

making bacon, picking up nuts, drying apples. This year, we just hope

we kept enough provisions for ourselves, to last until the siege is over.

What if we run out, and can't get any more? Will Ma change her mind

and move into the fort? If we're starving, she'll have to. Won't she?

Is there enough food in the fort for everyone? What's that—I hear someone

laughing—the kind of laugh where you try not to make a sound but you can't

help it. There's someone behind that bush, three Indians I've never seen before—

not from Kekionga—crouching down, trying to hide. I walk slowly past,

pretending I don't know they're there. Then I start walking faster. Then I run.

ANIKWA

Kwaahkwa

got another deer today,

and we're cooking a big pot of soup

because a lot of people will eat

with us tonight. More and

more people arrive

every day.

Potawatomi, Delaware,

Ottawa, Ojibwe, Kickapoo, Peoria,

Shawnee, and Miami. All the warriors agree,

we have to be ready to fight on the side of the British

when they get here. But Grandma and the other elders are still

trying to keep the war away from Kekionga. They've seen