Into the Wilderness
Page 231
Hench wore no weapons, but Nathaniel's rifle made a solid enough sound as he swung it into his hands.
"Who goes there?" His voice traveled in the dark like an arrow.
"It's me, Nathaniel," came a female voice from the darkness behind the Schuylers' gate. Many-Doves appeared in the circle of lantern light. "Put that down, for God's sake. I've been waiting for hours. That old Dutch woman wouldn't tell me where you were."
"My God," Elizabeth said. "What has happened?"
Many-Doves said, "There's trouble. Bears was afraid to leave the other women alone, and so I came on horseback."
Nathaniel reached her in one stride. "Tell me."
"Billy Kirby arrested your father for taking a buck out of season.
"Billy Kirby?" In amazement and outrage, Elizabeth found her voice.
Many-Doves nodded. "He was voted sheriff the day you left the village."
Elizabeth made a noise of protest, but Nathaniel was focused, as he always was, on the more important issue. The anger would come later. "He's locked up?"
"Since last night." Many-Doves sent a significant glance to Samuel Hench.
"My cousin," Elizabeth said, distracted.
"This is not the time for introductions," Samuel said with a small bow, and retreated into the shadows on the other side of the road. When he was out of earshot, Many-Doves continued, speaking directly to Nathaniel.
"Chingachgook may have walked the path by now; he was injured or they would have taken him, too." And then in a rush: "The judge fined them each a hundred dollars or a week in Anna's pantry, but we didn't have it, Nathaniel, Your grandfather wouldn't let us use the gold—" Again an uncomfortable look toward Samuel Hench, but his back remained firmly turned. "And Bears said it was too dangerous to use the silver. He thinks that's what they were hoping for, with this trick. So I came after you. Do you have that much cash?"
"There's enough cash," Nathaniel said. "But maybe not enough time. I'll have to ride hard. I'll wake MacIntyre and borrow a horse."
Elizabeth said, "If we can borrow one horse we can borrow two.
"Boots." His fingers pressed so hard into her upper arms that she winced, but he held her gaze. "You can't ride hard, you know that. Not astride, I won't let you risk it."
Flooded with frustration and disappointment, Elizabeth bowed her head. He was right; she could not risk a full day's ride at the pace he would set.
"You and Many-Doves come with the wagon, and don't dawdle. I'll need you there."
It was hard to swallow; it was hard even to breathe. Just weeks ago she had sworn she would not be separated from him again; it seemed that this place still had lessons to teach her. She could not put aside the image of Chingachgook, wounded and perhaps dying while his son sat in a makeshift gaol. She pressed Nathaniel's hands, and nodded.
Chapter 51
Samuel Hench accompanied them as far as FortHunter, where they would cross the Mohawk. Standing at the bank of the river while they waited for the ferry, he offered to put off his business in Johnstown in order to see them home to Paradise.
"Thank you kindly, but we will manage very well," Elizabeth said, too distracted and worried to go to much trouble reassuring him. To her relief, he did not take offense or argue with her; he simply went down the embankment to negotiate the crossing.
"The river is running fast," Many-Doves observed. She had been very quiet since they set out at first light, talking only when Samuel Hench was out of earshot or when Elizabeth asked her a direct question. Whether this was worry for what was happening in Paradise, or a simple distrust of a man she did not know, Elizabeth could not tell. But she was right: the river was running fast. Elizabeth watched the ferryman, a Kahnyen’keháka called Tall—Man, shake his head vigorously in response to Samuel Hench's request. Elizabeth felt her stomach go hollow at the idea of a delay.
"If we can't cross today—" she began. But Many-Doves handed her the reins and jumped off the wagon before she could finish her thought. Her plaits bumped on her back as she ran light—footed down to the ferry. Elizabeth could not hear what she said to Tall—Man, but she saw him listen to Doves and finally nod his head, reluctantly.
"I do not like it," Samuel Hench said when Elizabeth had joined them there. "It is too dangerous. I promised thy husband that I would see ye safely across this river. He was worried about the crossing, and told me so."
"There is no time," Many-Doves replied curtly. She did not wait to hear his response, but went to help Tall—Man with the horses and wagon.
In a softer tone, Elizabeth said: "I thank you for your concern, but we must be on our way. My husband's grandfather may be dying, and there is more trouble."
The horses were letting out soft, high nickering. Usually biddable and good—natured, they had to be coaxed onto the ferry with hooves clattering hollowly. Samuel Hench left her to help. Elizabeth stood watching the river, ill at ease and unsure of herself.
But the winds stilled, suddenly, and the heaving of the ferry with them. Tall—Man let his sons ply their poles and work the drag line while he stood with a stern eye fixed on the river, as if this would make the waters behave. One hand he kept on the neck of Samuel Hench's mare. The other rested lightly on the wampum belt crossed on his chest. Safely on the other side, he raised a hand to the sky as if to thank the winds.
"Who goes there?" His voice traveled in the dark like an arrow.
"It's me, Nathaniel," came a female voice from the darkness behind the Schuylers' gate. Many-Doves appeared in the circle of lantern light. "Put that down, for God's sake. I've been waiting for hours. That old Dutch woman wouldn't tell me where you were."
"My God," Elizabeth said. "What has happened?"
Many-Doves said, "There's trouble. Bears was afraid to leave the other women alone, and so I came on horseback."
Nathaniel reached her in one stride. "Tell me."
"Billy Kirby arrested your father for taking a buck out of season.
"Billy Kirby?" In amazement and outrage, Elizabeth found her voice.
Many-Doves nodded. "He was voted sheriff the day you left the village."
Elizabeth made a noise of protest, but Nathaniel was focused, as he always was, on the more important issue. The anger would come later. "He's locked up?"
"Since last night." Many-Doves sent a significant glance to Samuel Hench.
"My cousin," Elizabeth said, distracted.
"This is not the time for introductions," Samuel said with a small bow, and retreated into the shadows on the other side of the road. When he was out of earshot, Many-Doves continued, speaking directly to Nathaniel.
"Chingachgook may have walked the path by now; he was injured or they would have taken him, too." And then in a rush: "The judge fined them each a hundred dollars or a week in Anna's pantry, but we didn't have it, Nathaniel, Your grandfather wouldn't let us use the gold—" Again an uncomfortable look toward Samuel Hench, but his back remained firmly turned. "And Bears said it was too dangerous to use the silver. He thinks that's what they were hoping for, with this trick. So I came after you. Do you have that much cash?"
"There's enough cash," Nathaniel said. "But maybe not enough time. I'll have to ride hard. I'll wake MacIntyre and borrow a horse."
Elizabeth said, "If we can borrow one horse we can borrow two.
"Boots." His fingers pressed so hard into her upper arms that she winced, but he held her gaze. "You can't ride hard, you know that. Not astride, I won't let you risk it."
Flooded with frustration and disappointment, Elizabeth bowed her head. He was right; she could not risk a full day's ride at the pace he would set.
"You and Many-Doves come with the wagon, and don't dawdle. I'll need you there."
It was hard to swallow; it was hard even to breathe. Just weeks ago she had sworn she would not be separated from him again; it seemed that this place still had lessons to teach her. She could not put aside the image of Chingachgook, wounded and perhaps dying while his son sat in a makeshift gaol. She pressed Nathaniel's hands, and nodded.
Chapter 51
Samuel Hench accompanied them as far as FortHunter, where they would cross the Mohawk. Standing at the bank of the river while they waited for the ferry, he offered to put off his business in Johnstown in order to see them home to Paradise.
"Thank you kindly, but we will manage very well," Elizabeth said, too distracted and worried to go to much trouble reassuring him. To her relief, he did not take offense or argue with her; he simply went down the embankment to negotiate the crossing.
"The river is running fast," Many-Doves observed. She had been very quiet since they set out at first light, talking only when Samuel Hench was out of earshot or when Elizabeth asked her a direct question. Whether this was worry for what was happening in Paradise, or a simple distrust of a man she did not know, Elizabeth could not tell. But she was right: the river was running fast. Elizabeth watched the ferryman, a Kahnyen’keháka called Tall—Man, shake his head vigorously in response to Samuel Hench's request. Elizabeth felt her stomach go hollow at the idea of a delay.
"If we can't cross today—" she began. But Many-Doves handed her the reins and jumped off the wagon before she could finish her thought. Her plaits bumped on her back as she ran light—footed down to the ferry. Elizabeth could not hear what she said to Tall—Man, but she saw him listen to Doves and finally nod his head, reluctantly.
"I do not like it," Samuel Hench said when Elizabeth had joined them there. "It is too dangerous. I promised thy husband that I would see ye safely across this river. He was worried about the crossing, and told me so."
"There is no time," Many-Doves replied curtly. She did not wait to hear his response, but went to help Tall—Man with the horses and wagon.
In a softer tone, Elizabeth said: "I thank you for your concern, but we must be on our way. My husband's grandfather may be dying, and there is more trouble."
The horses were letting out soft, high nickering. Usually biddable and good—natured, they had to be coaxed onto the ferry with hooves clattering hollowly. Samuel Hench left her to help. Elizabeth stood watching the river, ill at ease and unsure of herself.
But the winds stilled, suddenly, and the heaving of the ferry with them. Tall—Man let his sons ply their poles and work the drag line while he stood with a stern eye fixed on the river, as if this would make the waters behave. One hand he kept on the neck of Samuel Hench's mare. The other rested lightly on the wampum belt crossed on his chest. Safely on the other side, he raised a hand to the sky as if to thank the winds.
