Time Enough for Drums (7 page)

It was Canoe who saw me coming. He was near the stables and came running. I handed the reins wordlessly to him, but he scooped me up instead and carried me across the rest of the field. Bleu followed.

“Jemima Emerson, did that horse throw you?”

“No, Grandfather, it was my fault, truly.”

“And how was it your fault?”

“I was riding too fast. I didn’t hold his head up when he tripped.”

“Your parents never did like the fact that I gave him to you. You’ll break your neck one of these days and they’ll disown me.”

“I won’t break my neck, Grandfather.”

Canoe had carried me through the huge center hall where Grandfather’s beloved hunting dogs had come to greet us. From the large rooms beyond, two Indian women on moccasined feet approached. Canoe set me down on the sofa. Relics of Grandfather’s trips north were all around, and the wide floorboards were covered with woven Indian rugs.

One of the Indian women washed my face. The other attended to my wrist, and in no time at all it felt better.

Grandfather watched me all the while. “You’re exactly like I am, Jemima Emerson,” he said. “You like to run free and lead your own life and not account to anyone. A certain amount of that is fine, but we do have to conform to some rules in this world. Now tell me, why were you riding so fast?”

“I was anxious to see you.”

He scowled. “You’ve been crying. Why?”

“Because I fell.”

He thanked the Indian women and they left. “Now you
can tell me why you were crying.” He looked at me steadily.

“Because everything’s so awful.”

“What’s awful?”

“Dan left today. And Raymond Moore.”

“Ah, the Moore boy. The Quaker who joined up. I met him Christmas Day. I saw you and him talking at the table. You’re fond of him?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“And do you suppose he returns your esteem?”

“Yes.”

“And so, breaking your neck is going to make you feel better?”

“Well, there’s everything else, too.”

“What else?” He stood, unyielding, while I recited my list of woes. In the background was Canoe, arms crossed on his chest, wearing the same frontier clothes as Grandfather. He was very striking and dignified and tall. He didn’t smile, but his eyes were most sympathetic.

“So,” Grandfather said, “you ran off on your family, you’ll not be home for lessons, you’ve muddied and torn your clothing, sprained your wrist, and run your horse half to death. How do you expect me to make this day come out right for you, little lady, when you’ve done so much to make it wrong?”

“You always could, before.” I started to cry.

He sat down next to me. “Jemima, I won’t pretend your troubles aren’t real. But you’ve brought many of them upon yourself today. I know you worry about Dan and your friend. But Dan was here last evening to say goodbye. He’s capable and he has sense. He knows when to be brave and when not to be foolish. I promise you, he’ll come through.”

I hugged him. “I haven’t told you everything yet.”

“What else is there?”

But I couldn’t say. He understood. He signaled Canoe with a nod of his head, and Canoe left.

“Your mother and her letter-writing campaign, is that it? Dan told me you knew. That’s a lot for someone your age to keep her own good counsel about.” He took my hands in his own. “Listen to me. I’ve just given a considerable amount of money to Washington for the army. I can tell you, it’s needed. On Breed’s Hill our army would have won outright if they hadn’t run out of musket balls. Would you want that to happen to Dan someday?”

“No.”

“The support your mother is raising could someday help Dan and the Moore boy and others. We’re all going to be called upon to do our part before this thing is through. Be proud of your mother.”

He wiped my tears, then called the Indian women to come back. One brought tea made with herbs, the other cornmeal pudding mixed with bits of meat and nuts and dried berries. There were cakes that I didn’t recognize. We ate, and then Grandfather made me lie down and rest. He covered me with a blanket, and I was left alone to sleep. I awoke to find him kneeling over me with Canoe standing nearby. I was to start for home, he said, and Canoe would ride with me. I protested that I could ride alone, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

“I have a visitor coming this afternoon, or I’d take you myself. Canoe will take my place. Anytime you need to talk, I’m here. You know that.” He kissed me goodbye. Canoe took me to the kitchen, where I was given warm cider and I washed my face. Outside he lifted me onto Bleu, and we began the ride home.

We rode in silence for a while. From my past visits to Grandfather’s farm I knew that Canoe would talk when he
was ready and that he wouldn’t talk if he didn’t like someone. After the first mile he started to tell me about his boyhood in Canada, of how Indian children are never punished and are allowed to run free. At the outskirts of town he dismounted and handed me a bag of pemmican, which is made of dried buffalo meat mixed with fat and dried cranberries. He gave me a bag every time I visited. I kept it in a small chest in my room. Someday, if the British ever came to Trenton, I would have it, for it was an emergency ration. And then, whatever else happened, we wouldn’t be hungry.

As I rode Bleu slowly up Queen Street I could see Grandfather Henshaw’s carriage in front of our house. It was piled high with baggage. I felt sick with foreboding. Now I not only had Mother to face but Grandfather and Rebeckah as well. I brought Bleu to the barn and took my time feeding and watering him. Then I went into the house the back way and was about to slip up the stairs when Rebeckah called from the parlor.

“You might have the decency to come and say hello, Jemima.”

They were having coffee. A cheery fire was burning on the hearth. Grandfather Henshaw was seated on one side of the fireplace, Mother on the other. John Reid was perched on a window seat. Rebeckah, in scarlet silk, stood in the middle of the room.

“Jem, what happened?” Mother jumped up when she saw me.

“I’m all right, Mama. I took a spill riding Bleu and hurt my hand, but the Indian women at Grandfather Emerson’s
bandaged it for me. It’s much better now.”

“Grandfather Emerson’s! Is that where you were! And I’ve been sitting here worrying about you! Jemima, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I’m sorry, Mama.” I was suddenly aware of my torn and muddy petticoat and disheveled appearance.

“You look a fine mess, I must say.” Rebeckah stepped forward. “Did it ever occur to you that Mother may have wanted you here today, after Dan left? You never change, do you, Jem?”

For the life of me I could think of no reply. They were all looking at me accusingly. John Reid watched me knowingly, but said nothing.

“Honestly, Jemima, sometimes I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” Mama was saying. “I sent John out to look for you. He searched all over town. Why did you go to Grandfather Emerson’s?”

“Because she was off on one of her wild jaunts again with no thought for anyone but herself, that’s why,” Rebeckah said. “She ought to be whipped for worrying you so.”

“You’re one to talk,” I shot back. “You haven’t had any consideration for Mother since you’ve been home!”

“How dare you?” She stepped forward and grasped my good arm. “You little ruffian, how dare you speak to me like that.”

“I speak the truth. You’ve given Mother more heartache than anybody.”

She drew back her arm to slap me, but the next thing I knew John Reid was there restraining her. “That’s enough, Rebeckah. It isn’t your place to punish her.”

“Whose is it? Yours? You can’t even keep her from running off on her lessons when Mother is paying you so dearly. She’s out cavorting with Indians instead.”

Reid laughed. “So your grandfather Emerson is an Indian, eh? I knew there was some reason I didn’t marry you.”

“Your grandfather Emerson is not an Indian, Rebeckah,” Mama said, sharply.

“Well, he might as well be. He’s married to one. If he is, indeed, married. No wonder Jem feels so at home there, with that Indian servant, or whatever he is to Grandfather, hanging around.”

“You leave Canoe out of this,” I said. “He’s a good person. He escorted me to the outskirts of town.”

“Thank
heaven
he had the sense to stay on the outskirts. At least everyone didn’t see you riding with that savage.”

“He’s not a savage!”

“Dear, dear, this is intolerable.” Grandfather Henshaw sat mopping his brow.

“Rebeckah! Jem! For heaven’s sake, show some consideration for your mother, both of you!” John Reid spoke in his best schoolmaster’s tone.

Rebeckah calmed herself. “It wouldn’t be intolerable if Mother would take my suggestion,” she said. “I tell you, Mother, you’d do the right thing if you let me take her to Philadelphia.”

The room was suddenly silent. Mother had turned and was standing at the window, her back to us, rigid and silent.

“Mama? That isn’t why Becky and Grandfather are here, is it? You’re not sending me to Philadelphia.” I saw the smug look on Becky’s face and started to understand.

“You’d learn how to behave in civilized company at least,” Becky said. “One year in Philadelphia with me and you’d learn manners. I can promise you that.”

“Mama?” My voice cracked and my heart was hammering inside me.

“Go upstairs, Jem,” she said without turning around, “and clean yourself up and rest.”

The sobs started deep inside me and then the tears came. I didn’t know where to look. I put my hands to my face.

“Come here, Jem.” It was John Reid’s voice, but I didn’t move.

“Jemima Emerson, I said to come here.” He used his schoolmaster’s tone again. Numbly I went to him.

He looked at me, his brown eyes intent but not unkind. “Now, listen to me. Rebeckah says I can’t do anything with you. Do you want to prove her right?”

I couldn’t speak. I shook my head no.

“It looks as if I can’t. Not only to Rebeckah, but to your mama right now. She would have every right to terminate my services today. It seems as if I’ve failed as your tutor. Perhaps the only thing left for your mother to do is send you to Philadelphia.”

“I don’t want to go to Philadelphia, Mr. Reid,” I appealed.

“Then do as I say, and perhaps we can redeem this day. There will be no packing you off right now, not until your parents discuss this. So go to your sister and grandfather and kiss them goodbye.”

“Kiss Rebeckah?”

“Yes.”

“I won’t.”

“You will do as I say!” His eyes flashed and his voice held a dozen familiar threats. I went and kissed them.

“Dear child,” Grandfather said, wiping his eyes. He was quite beside himself. “Mind your tutor, there’s a good girl.”

Rebeckah accepted my kiss coolly. “Grow up, Jem. You must, sooner or later, you know.”

“Mama?” I looked at her, but she wouldn’t turn around.

“Leave your mother be, Jem,” Reid directed, “and come
along with me.” He took hold of my good wrist and pulled me from the room. Closing the door, he looked at me. “You’ve all but ruined things for yourself today, you know that, don’t you?”

I said nothing. I was nearly falling off my feet with exhaustion.

“Your sister’s been working on your mother for two hours to take you to Philadelphia. If you think I’m bad, try having her for a teacher. You’d come crawling back in two months.”

“Thank you, Mr. Reid.”

“For what? I’ve done nothing yet. You’re still in danger of going. Your mother is at her wit’s end with you. If you’ll take my advice, you’ll go to your chamber until after supper and pretend exhaustion. Which shouldn’t be too difficult, the way you look. At the table I’ll try to smooth things over with your parents.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

He smiled. “If you think I’m going to let Rebeckah have anything to do with the way you turn out after I’ve invested two years in you, you have another think coming. Besides, I owe more than that to your parents.”

He kept his eyes down while he spoke. I moved toward the stairs.

“Jemima.”

“Yes, Mr. Reid.”

“I’ll fight for you to stay. All I have to fight with is my promise to your parents that I can do a good job with you. If I win and they let you stay, things will be different with us, however. There will be no more nonsense. I won’t tolerate it. Do we understand each other?”

I looked at him, thinking of how I hated him and here he was offering me the only hope I had at the moment. “Yes, Mr. Reid,” I said. I ran up the stairs.

I awoke to a knock on my door. “Jem?” I roused myself and opened it to find David. “Jem, you’re wanted downstairs.”

“Who wants me?” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. It was dark except for David’s candle. “What time is it?”

“It’s near eight. Supper’s over. You should have been there. All they did was talk about you.”

“What did they say?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you. But John Reid took your part. Whatever you did today, I hope you had fun, because you’re to be punished for it. When I came home for my noon meal there was all hell to pay because everyone was looking for you. Mother thought you took Bleu and followed Dan to Princeton.”

“Did they say anything about Philadelphia?”

“You’re not going. Reid told Father at supper that he’d take full responsibility. He said he intended to make something of you. I wouldn’t want him making something of me, Jem. Damned Tory. I think you would have been better
off going to Philadelphia.”

“David, stop your swearing. Where’s Mama?”

“She’s gone to bed. She’s feeling poorly. I told them at supper that Dan had given me his musket when he left, and Mama cried and Father said if I mentioned that musket again, he’d hit me. I think everybody’s gone daft. Jem, did you kiss Raymond Moore when he left this morning?”

“Who said anything about that?”

“Father knows about it. Someone saw you and told him. And I thought I was bad running off and making gunlocks with John Fitch. You’d better get downstairs, Jem, they’re waiting. You’d better do something about the way you look, too.”