Salt (8 page)
Authors: Helen Frost
Pa says,
I hope that's true.
No one is sure of anything. Two soldiers went out
four days ago and just got back; they barely managed to run past everyone
outside the fort on their way in. What did they find out?
The Americans
are closer than the British, but we still don't know when either army will arrive.
There's enough meat left for tomorrow. Maybe one more meal after that.
This is cooked the way I like itâjuicy and hot, exactly the right amount of salt.
I hold it on my tongueâand the salty taste makes me ashamed. (Salt in the barrel,
pelts on the counter, empty salt scoop in my hand.)
Pa,
I say,
they need salt
.
Wedaase
doesn't know we gave them meat.
Will James's family keep it for themselves,
or share it with the soldiers in the fort
so they'll all have enough
food to survive?
Either way,
I'm not sorry we helped.
About a hundred people in the fort, and
more than seven hundred gathered here in Kekionga,
surrounding them. Kwaahkwa agrees with Wedaase:
Let's
attack now, while we outnumber them, before either army arrives.
Most of the young men agree. They take turns running
past the fort all day and all night, checking
to see if a sentry has fallen asleep.
So far no one has. I'm not old
enough to join them, but
I'm doing my part
by catching fish.
The ducks and geese
swim back and forthâthey're
staying close to shore, quiet, as if they're
waiting with us, to see what
will happen next.
The burned part of the stockade is still smoking. Pa grips my shoulder,
trying to hide us both behind a blackened post where our house used to be.
I point into the trees.
Over there, Pa. That's where Anikwa left the deer meat.
We look down the trail, off to the side, up into the trees. We don't see anyone.
It's quiet. But that doesn't mean no one is around.
Too dangerous,
Pa says,
his hand still on my shoulder. He turns to go back into the fort. But we're
so close! If we just leave the salt here, Anikwa might not find it. I pull away
from Pa and run fast, to the hollow oak. Pa won't follow or shout after me;
he'll stay here watching, and if something happens, he'll help. But nothing
happens. I hide the salt in the tree, take out my whistle, and make the sound
of a blackbird. I listen closely. Not too far away, another blackbird answers.
I go back to Pa. We turn toward Ma, watching from a doorway in the fort.
When we get to her, she pulls us inside and asks,
Where was Anikwa hiding?
As soon as you left, he came out of nowhere, took the salt, and disappeared.
Salt on the tongue
the pleasure
of shared meals
the words
formed in our mouths
the taste of words
on their way
into the world:
salt inside the words.
Most years, this is
my favorite seasonâwhen the corn
is almost ripe, I stand on a platform to scare off the birds.
Then we pick the golden ears, braid the husks
together, and hang the braided corn
to dry. In the evenings, I go
fishing, and Mink
and Grandma salt and dry the fish.
We store the corn and fish, and all the meat
and berries we have dried, so we'll have enough food
to last all winter. But this year we haven't had enough salt
to dry the fish, and the corn will not have time to ripen before
the armies get here. Everyone is working fast, staying up
late to bring in as much food as we can, but now these
hard questions: Can we feed all the people here,
and still have enough food for ourselves?
How much will the armies eat?
Where can we hide food so
they won't take it?
About ten more daysâ
that's how long we need for the corn
to fully ripen. But we won't have that long.
We have to find a way to hide
the food we have.
Ma helps the cook find ways to make the deer meat last three days. They boil
the bones for one last pot of soup. After this, there's no more food. Can't even
go out to the pump for water. Rupert says,
The American army could be here
tomorrow.
Mr. Briggs:
Next day for sure.
When I see Mr. Briggs, I think of Isaac.
Wonder what he's doing right now. Molly throws her pinecone on the floor.
I pick it up. She laughs, throws it down again. Wish I could be her age again.
Two soldiers try to guess how many men are in each army.
More Americans
than British,
says one.
But how many Indians have joined the British?
asks the other.
When the American army gets here, will the soldiers know who's always lived
in Kekionga, and who came here just to fight against them? How could they?
High in a tree, on a branch that hangs over the fort, a squirrel chatters at us.
It's a real squirrel, not a tricky friend.
Shoot it, Pa,
I say. But he won't.
This whole place is like a tinderbox,
he says.
A gunshot could set off the fighting.
I aim my slingshot.
No,
Pa says,
we don't know who might be hiding in that tree.
The armies
could be here tomorrow.
We sent a runner who has just returned,
bringing news that both armies
are almost hereâand the
Americans are closer
than the British.
We had to pick the corn
too soon. It isn't dry. Where can we
hide it? Toontwa helps me dig holes to bury
what we can, but it's hard to cover them completely, and
if soldiers find these holes in the forest, they'll guess that food
is hidden in them. Rain Bird keeps on braiding corn faster
and faster, thinking hard. Now she looks up and offers
an idea:
Could we wrap our dried food and bury it
under fire pits? If we make new fires, the ashes
will cover the holesâsoldiers might not
think to look there
. Everyone
stares at her. Grandma
smiles for the first time since we picked
the first ear of unripe corn. Now Rain Bird is wrapping
food as I put out our fire and start digging. Mink goes around
to all the families in Kekionga, telling everyone
Rain Bird's brilliant idea.
Through the gap where the stockade burned down, we see people running
back and forth, around the fort. A lot of people. Kwaahkwa is the only one
I recognize. I'm looking for Anikwa or Old Raccoon, when I notice something:
it's almost all young menâno women or children. Not many older men.
Someone shoots a burning arrow toward the fort, and Mr. Briggs runs out
to stamp on it. Another arrow, not burning, flies toward him and barely
misses. He runs back to the fort. We're almost out of waterâif another fire
starts, we won't have any way to quench it. Will we even have enough to drink?
Everything gets quiet. Five warriors go past, walking, not running, back
toward Kekionga. I see Kwaahkwa againâI want to run and ask him:
What
is happening? Where's Anikwa? Old Raccoon? Are Rain Bird and Wiinicia safe?
But then he's gone. A hawk swoops in, kills a squirrel, and takes it to a tree.
After that, nothing happens for a while. No one comes near the fort. No more
flaming arrows. One flash of lightning in a blue-gray sky. Distant thunder.
The elders talk all night,
and when the sun comes up, they've made
a hard decision: The American army is too big. The British
are too far away. There aren't enough of us. It's time
to leave, before this war begins.
Don't carry too much,
Mink says.
A fishing spear, a knife, a blanket.
Kwaahkwa is staying:
If we all leave, they'll think
we're afraid
. His mother's hardest questions and Rain Bird's
sweetest smiles haven't changed his mind. I'm almost as tall as he is.
Father,
I say,
maybe I should stay here, too.
He rests his hand on my shoulder,
swallows hard, then asks,
Who would catch fish for everyone along the way?
So now I can leave without shame. We pack a few canoes and horses,
but most of us are walking, going west to our relatives. They
will make room for usâit's what we always doâbut we
don't want to eat the food they've gathered
for their own winter days. Father
picks up his fiddle,
sets it down.
Ready?
I ask Toontwa.
It's time to go
. We circle around the fort in silence.
Inside, a baby criesâmust be Molly. In the pond, a muskrat
watches us, dives deepâI wonder where
he will come up.
No more lightning, but the thunder's louder. Ma tilts her head.
It's from
the east,
she says, squeezing Molly so tight she busts out crying. We go out
to look. Is that a huge cloud on the horizon? Or dust rising from the road?
That's not thunder,
says Pa,
it's the army marching in.
The Americans are here.
The fort rings with cheers, and soldiers pour outside. Someone shoots a rifle
into the sky. From the east another gunshot answers. Where's Pa going?
I start to follow him, but Ma holds me back.
No,
she says
. We don't know
what will happen. You stay here.
She thinks I'm still a babyâmakes me mad
and a little bit glad at the same time. The thunder sound comes closer
as soldiers here line up to meet the army coming in. Isaac would be
cheering along with themâhe'd know for sure which side he's on.
I wish I did. Where is everyone from Kekionga? Are they getting ready
to start fighting? Old Raccoon didn't want a war, but he might fight in one
if he has to. I listen for unusual birds or animals. NoâI don't hear Anikwa.
The morning sky
was still dark when we walked away
from Kekionga. The top branches of the oak tree
cradled the half-moon, and stars whispered
their sky-stories like old friends:
We will still be here
when you return
.
Now the sun is high, the sky
is blue. Behind the steady song of
Cricket!
Cricket!
we hear thunder rumbling, but there's
no rain or lightning.
Stay quiet and listen,
Father says.
That's not thunderâthe American army must be here.
Toontwa
opens his eyes wide and stays close to my side. I tell him,
Not much farther. When we get to where siipiiwi goes in
two directions, we'll play tossball with our relatives.
I'll help you look for flints beside the water.
We walk all day, and arrive before
the sun sets, but we find
no friends, no cousins.
Cornfields stretch to the horizon,
some corn already picked, drying in the sun. Beans,
pumpkins, apples left in baskets say to us:
Welcome, friends.
Rest here, please eat well.
But why is no one here?
Where have they gone?
Rupert made Molly a puppet on a stick that dances when I tap it on a board.
All morning I've been trying to keep her happy: tap, tap, tapâit dances, she
laughs, like everything's the same as usual. Ma wishes there were women
she could talk to, or someone to tell us what's happening, but we're stuck here
with the cook and a few soldiers who stayed to guard the fort. It's not as loud
as I thought a war would be. A few gunshots, a lot of hollering, another shot.
Soldiers we've never seen before come marching into the fort looking for food.
Cook shows them our suppliesâthat is, where the food would be if we had any.
The soldiers shake their heads and leave. Ma says it shouldn't be too long
before Pa can go out huntingâhe'll get us a turkey, a goose, maybe a deer.
Pa made it clear that I can't leave the fort “until this is settled.”
When will that be?
I asked.
I don't know,
he answered.
It depends on where the British army is.
Where are they? I look toward Kekionga. What's that, above the trees? Smokeâ
fire! Houses burning. Whose houses? Flames rise high, then higher, wider.
We eat our food,
not theirs. Grandma says,
Our friends
and relatives will probably return tomorrow. No matter
where they've been, they'll come home hungry.
