Dawn on a Distant Shore
Page 24
"Spencer is in Albany?" Otter asked.
"Yes," said Elizabeth. "I had a letter from them recently."
"Well, then," said Liam with a great sigh of relief. "Send Will Spencer to Montréal. He's a lawyer, ain't he? He'll get them out of gaol."
Falling-Day was watching Elizabeth closely, her head cocked to one side. "Bone-in-Her-Back," she said quietly, using Elizabeth's Kahnyen'kehâka name. "Would you send a man to do work that needs a woman's understanding?"
Elizabeth swallowed hard. This was the question: would she have her cousin go to Montréal to try to achieve a political end to this situation, or would she take it in her own hands? The part of her that was still an English lady of good family could barely conceive of the idea that she might travel so far in the middle of winter on men's business, but there was another part, a stronger voice in her now. And Falling-Day heard it, too, and understood that Elizabeth could not chance Nathaniel's life, could not stand by while others fought for him.
It was unthinkable, and she would do it anyway.
"I would not," Elizabeth said. "I cannot."
"Thayeri," said Falling-Day. It is proper so.
For the first time that day, Elizabeth felt she could breathe.
At the open bedroom door, Curiosity said, "You goin' to take those babies into the wilderness?"
Elizabeth started, and came to her feet.
"How could you even think of such a thing? You always talkin' about bein' rational."
"Curiosity," Elizabeth said. "Let me tell you--"
"I heard enough. Don't need to hear no more." And Curiosity turned on her heel and disappeared back into the bedroom.
"She is the one you must convince," said Falling-Day, reaching for her sewing. "She is the first step in this journey."
In the bedroom, Curiosity was elbow deep in soapy water and dirty swaddling clothes.
"You don't have to do that," Elizabeth said.
Curiosity hummed her disagreement and never looked up.
Elizabeth said, "The way from Albany to Montréal is hardly the wilderness. It is almost as well traveled as the London Road."
The steady rub and rush on the washboard did not falter. "Don't talk to me about no London Road. You got a winter to contend with, here."
"You just told me yesterday that the worst was over, didn't you?"
Curiosity sat back on her heels and wiped her cheek with the back of a hand. "Well, I didn't know you was getting set to go runnin' off with them babies on your back, or I wouldn't have."
Elizabeth managed a smile at that. "They brought Blue-Jay through much rougher country six weeks ago, when the weather was worse. And I won't be on foot."
A long wheeze of impatience. "What, you intendin' to spread your wings and fly? Oh, I see. You think the judge just goin' to hand over his sleigh and team to get you as far as Albany, do you? He'll try to tie you down, and you know it."
"Oh, Curiosity. He's tried that before, has he not?" With a sigh, Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed where the twins lay, kicking and burbling to each other.
With a voice much steadier than she thought it ought to be, Elizabeth said, "If I do not go, they will try Nathaniel and Hawkeye and Robbie as spies, with no one there to speak for them. Would you expect me to sit here and wait for news that they have been hanged?"
A slight tremor moved Curiosity's shoulders, but she said nothing.
"You would go, if it were one of your own."
"You are like one of my own," Curiosity said, calm now.
"Then help me," Elizabeth said. "I need your help."
A long silence was broken only by the gurgling of the babies. Elizabeth sat on the bed she had shared with her husband and wondered if he would ever walk through the door again, if she would ever hear his voice. There was a curious numbness in her, a burning in her eyes that felt like somebody else's tears. She could have no part of that, not now. With or without Curiosity's help she would do this. Perhaps the older woman saw all this on her face, for her own expression softened.
"I'll talk the judge into it and get the sleigh, on one condition."
"I will not leave my children behind."
"No, missy, you won't." Curiosity tilted up her chin, the dark eyes snapping. "You won't leave me behind, either."
Elizabeth suddenly found herself trembling. She folded her hands in her lap. "You would come with us?"
Curiosity wiped her arms with her apron. "Somebody got to keep you out of trouble," she said. "Let's go see the judge about that sleigh, 'cause I ain't about to walk."
Hannah's hands would not work properly. She dropped a bowl, the sewing basket, her horn tablet, everything she picked up. No one seemed to notice her sudden clumsiness. Her grandmother and aunt were sorting through clothing, wrapping dried venison in corn husks, mending snowshoes, getting ready to send Elizabeth and Runs-from-Bears on a long journey. Bears had gone off to the north face of the mountain to get the gold; Otter had been given willow-bark tea and sent to bed. Elizabeth and Curiosity were in the village.
From across the room Liam caught her gaze, and gestured with his eyes outside.
The stable was their place to talk. In warmer weather Hannah often shelled beans or ground corn here while Liam saw to his chores. Now it was empty, the horses boarded at the blacksmith's for the winter; snow had drifted into every corner.
"Yes," said Elizabeth. "I had a letter from them recently."
"Well, then," said Liam with a great sigh of relief. "Send Will Spencer to Montréal. He's a lawyer, ain't he? He'll get them out of gaol."
Falling-Day was watching Elizabeth closely, her head cocked to one side. "Bone-in-Her-Back," she said quietly, using Elizabeth's Kahnyen'kehâka name. "Would you send a man to do work that needs a woman's understanding?"
Elizabeth swallowed hard. This was the question: would she have her cousin go to Montréal to try to achieve a political end to this situation, or would she take it in her own hands? The part of her that was still an English lady of good family could barely conceive of the idea that she might travel so far in the middle of winter on men's business, but there was another part, a stronger voice in her now. And Falling-Day heard it, too, and understood that Elizabeth could not chance Nathaniel's life, could not stand by while others fought for him.
It was unthinkable, and she would do it anyway.
"I would not," Elizabeth said. "I cannot."
"Thayeri," said Falling-Day. It is proper so.
For the first time that day, Elizabeth felt she could breathe.
At the open bedroom door, Curiosity said, "You goin' to take those babies into the wilderness?"
Elizabeth started, and came to her feet.
"How could you even think of such a thing? You always talkin' about bein' rational."
"Curiosity," Elizabeth said. "Let me tell you--"
"I heard enough. Don't need to hear no more." And Curiosity turned on her heel and disappeared back into the bedroom.
"She is the one you must convince," said Falling-Day, reaching for her sewing. "She is the first step in this journey."
In the bedroom, Curiosity was elbow deep in soapy water and dirty swaddling clothes.
"You don't have to do that," Elizabeth said.
Curiosity hummed her disagreement and never looked up.
Elizabeth said, "The way from Albany to Montréal is hardly the wilderness. It is almost as well traveled as the London Road."
The steady rub and rush on the washboard did not falter. "Don't talk to me about no London Road. You got a winter to contend with, here."
"You just told me yesterday that the worst was over, didn't you?"
Curiosity sat back on her heels and wiped her cheek with the back of a hand. "Well, I didn't know you was getting set to go runnin' off with them babies on your back, or I wouldn't have."
Elizabeth managed a smile at that. "They brought Blue-Jay through much rougher country six weeks ago, when the weather was worse. And I won't be on foot."
A long wheeze of impatience. "What, you intendin' to spread your wings and fly? Oh, I see. You think the judge just goin' to hand over his sleigh and team to get you as far as Albany, do you? He'll try to tie you down, and you know it."
"Oh, Curiosity. He's tried that before, has he not?" With a sigh, Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed where the twins lay, kicking and burbling to each other.
With a voice much steadier than she thought it ought to be, Elizabeth said, "If I do not go, they will try Nathaniel and Hawkeye and Robbie as spies, with no one there to speak for them. Would you expect me to sit here and wait for news that they have been hanged?"
A slight tremor moved Curiosity's shoulders, but she said nothing.
"You would go, if it were one of your own."
"You are like one of my own," Curiosity said, calm now.
"Then help me," Elizabeth said. "I need your help."
A long silence was broken only by the gurgling of the babies. Elizabeth sat on the bed she had shared with her husband and wondered if he would ever walk through the door again, if she would ever hear his voice. There was a curious numbness in her, a burning in her eyes that felt like somebody else's tears. She could have no part of that, not now. With or without Curiosity's help she would do this. Perhaps the older woman saw all this on her face, for her own expression softened.
"I'll talk the judge into it and get the sleigh, on one condition."
"I will not leave my children behind."
"No, missy, you won't." Curiosity tilted up her chin, the dark eyes snapping. "You won't leave me behind, either."
Elizabeth suddenly found herself trembling. She folded her hands in her lap. "You would come with us?"
Curiosity wiped her arms with her apron. "Somebody got to keep you out of trouble," she said. "Let's go see the judge about that sleigh, 'cause I ain't about to walk."
Hannah's hands would not work properly. She dropped a bowl, the sewing basket, her horn tablet, everything she picked up. No one seemed to notice her sudden clumsiness. Her grandmother and aunt were sorting through clothing, wrapping dried venison in corn husks, mending snowshoes, getting ready to send Elizabeth and Runs-from-Bears on a long journey. Bears had gone off to the north face of the mountain to get the gold; Otter had been given willow-bark tea and sent to bed. Elizabeth and Curiosity were in the village.
From across the room Liam caught her gaze, and gestured with his eyes outside.
The stable was their place to talk. In warmer weather Hannah often shelled beans or ground corn here while Liam saw to his chores. Now it was empty, the horses boarded at the blacksmith's for the winter; snow had drifted into every corner.
