West to Grande Portage
Page 18
“I wish I could go with you.”
“We would wait but we both need something to keep us going while we adjust to not having Marguerite with us anymore.” Jeanne could feel her eyes tearing up.
Antoinette reached out and touched Jeanne’s hand. “Marguerite lived as long as she was supposed to.”
Jeanne nodded. She took a deep breath. She had to keep her mind on other things. “I will stop in and show the material to you after we buy it tomorrow. And one day when you are feeling better we will go look for your dress material.”
“That would be nice.”
Jeanne had a thought. “I just realized that I do not even know where we will live. We cannot stay in his bedroom here. We will need to find a place of our own.”
“There are a lot of things you two have to decide. Maybe you should wait until he is here.”
“Yes. We had never even discussed marriage before he proposed.”
“It was so romantic, the way he asked you in front of everyone.”
“It was.” Jeanne’s mind went back to that day. She had relived it over and over again since he had left, still thrilled that he had finally asked for her hand in marriage. She could hardly wait until he was back and they could begin their life together.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The bundles and packs were opened and Phillippe had checked them. His stomach fluttered. The trading was about to begin. Pierre brought out a keg of brandy.
“What is that for?” Phillippe asked.
“We give each Indian a cup before we begin.”
“Why?”
“They like it.”
“But are they likely to barter as well when under the influence of the brandy?” He knew he did not think straight when he was drinking.
Pierre winked. “That is the idea. Besides like us, this is their time to party before going home for another year of trapping.”
Phillippe shook his head. “It does not seem right to take advantage of them like that.”
“They do not have brandy at home so I like to think that I am doing them a favor by giving them something they enjoy for the time they are here. Remember, they live off the land and are self-sufficient so they do not have many needs. And finally, if we did not give it to them then they will trade with another merchant house that will.”
Phillippe looked at the other traders and they all had kegs set up beside their goods. He shrugged and turned back to his pay schedule, the list of items they had and how many made beaver they were equivalent to. One dozen awl blades had the value of one made beaver. One pound of beads was 1½ made beaver. One chisel was to be traded for ½ made beaver.
He was glad that Pierre was the one doing the bartering. He knew how to check if the beaver skin was in good condition, plus he knew the native language. Phillippe would be the one recording the trade.
Phillipe had thought that what was listed on the papers would be what was traded, that the Indians would present the fur and say what they needed in trade. But that was not how it went.
The first Indian came with three pelts. After the cup of brandy, he said he wanted shot, powder and flints. Pierre checked over the furs.
“These are worth fifteen flints, two pounds of shot, and one pound of gunpowder.”
Phillippe looked at his list. Pierre was offering much less than William had written.
“No,” the Indian said. “Last year I got more than that.”
“Last year you had better furs,” Pierre said.
“These are just as good.”
Pierre shook his head.
The Indian grabbed his pelts and left. Phillippe saw him go to another trader and get his cup of brandy.
“Why did you offer him less than William wrote?”
“When bartering, always start low. You can always raise your offer.”
The next Indian stepped up. After his cup of brandy he began to berate Pierre about the quality of the goods he had been given the year before.
“The handle on the kettle broke. The stew fell in the fire.”
“I can give you a new kettle and two knives for the two pelts you have.”
“I will take two kettles for my two furs and the two knives will be as a gift.”
Again Pierre refused to deal. The Indian went to find someone who would.
Pierre turned to Phillippe. “They have a lot more furs than they are showing us right now. The trading goes on for weeks.”
They traded by day. Phillippe watched Pierre barter with the Northmen and the natives and he began to add numbers to the ledger. Two ice chisels traded for one made beaver, one ivory comb for two made beaver, one pound of beads and one pound of gunpowder for two made beaver, one pound of tobacco for one made beaver, two blankets for twelve made beavers, one three-foot gun for ten made beaver.
He learned that kettles were popular because they gave the women a strong, transportable vessel to use for cooking over a fire. They did not have to use hot rocks dropped in woven baskets to heat the water. They cooked more soups and stews. The awls, scissors, and needles also made sewing their clothes much easier.
At night when the trading was over for the day they partied.
Over the weeks Phillippe watched the supply of goods decrease and their stock of beaver skins rise. The pelts were pressed into bundles using the fur press in the post and stacked ready to be put in the canoes for the return trip.
One morning Pierre said to Phillippe. “I am not going back.”
“What?” Phillippe was stunned.
“I have decided to stay with my family. I will go west with them and be a trapper.”
“A trapper? Do you know anything about trapping?”
“Not yet,” Pierre grinned. “But they will teach me and then I become the best trapper in the west.”
Phillippe laughed. His uncle always wanted to be the best.
“How will you be paid?”
“I will take a gun, some shot and flints, and other goods that I will need for the year. You can write it down to take back to William.”
“What about the brigade?” Phillippe felt a sense of unease. He hated to admit but knowing that his uncle was there to look after him had given him some security. “Who is going to lead it?”
“I have put Bernard and Francois in charge. They will get everyone safely back. The trip will be easier because you will be going with the current on the Mattawa and Ottawa rivers. Just no jumping into the rapids, no matter what happens.”
“What do I say to the family?” There were so many things he needed to know.
“There is nothing to say. I know they think I am a drunk and a scoundrel and I am sure they will be glad to be rid of me.”
“I will not be.”
Pierre ruffled his hair. “I have taught you all I can and you have learned well.”
“Will you be coming here next year for the trade?”
Pierre shrugged. “I may just send my furs with someone else.”
Phillippe hugged his uncle. He was going to miss him very much.
Pierre put his arms around Phillippe. “You can keep my paddle as a reminder of me.”
* * *
On the last night of the trading, a banquet and dance were held in the main hall at the post. Again everyone partied well into the night.
Phillippe stayed away from the beer this time. He wanted to remember the evening. He watched the expressions of pleasure on the faces of the men. They loved this life they were living. He soaked up the atmosphere of the building. A surreal feeling engulfed him. He had actually made his dream come true. He was one of this brotherhood of voyageurs.
Tomorrow they would split up. The Northmen and Indians would hurry west while the voyageurs from Montreal would make haste east, everyone wanting to reach their destinations before the snows came and the ice began to form on the rivers and lakes.
Phillippe was looking forward to getting home. He missed his family. He had so much to tell them, some of it good, some of it, sadly, not. And he
wanted to thank them for the gift of his voyageur outfit. He had been so proud to wear it beside the paddlers who had many years of experience. He also had to thank Ira for the soap. It had felt good to be clean after the long paddle.
Phillippe touched the cross around his neck. Marguerite had given it to him to keep him safe and it had worked. He had survived a brush with death. When he got back to Montreal, he wanted to tell her that he had thought about her the whole trip and that he loved her. He would then let her make up her mind if she was going to be a nun in France or be his wife.
He hoped she choose him.
The End
More Books We Love Ltd novels by the Author
Canadian Historical for Young Adults
West to the Bay
Mystery
Gold Fever
The Travelling Detective Series boxed set
Science Fiction
The Criminal Streak
Betrayed
About the Author
Joan was born in New Westminster, B.C. Canada, and raised in Edmonton, Alberta. She married soon after graduation and moved to a farm where she had two children. Over the years she worked as a bartender, hotel maid, cashier, bank teller, bookkeeper, printing press operator, meat wrapper, gold prospector, warehouse shipper, house renovator, and nursing attendant. During that time she raised her two children and helped raise her three step-children.
Since she loves change, Joan has moved over thirty times in her life, living on acreages and farms and in small towns and cities throughout Alberta and B.C. She now lives on an acreage in the Port Alberni Valley with her husband and four female cats.
Joan began her writing career with a short story, progressed to travel and historical articles, and then on to travel books. She called these books her Backroads series and in the seven of them she described what there is to see and do along the back roads of British Columbia, Alberta, the Yukon, and Alaska. She has now switched to fiction writing and is proud to be one of Books We Love Ltd published authors.
West to Grande Portage is Joan’s second novel in her Canadian Historical series for young adults. It follows on her first novel titled West to the Bay.
She has had three mystery novels, Illegally Dead, The Only Shadow In The House, and Whistler's Murder published in what she calls the Travelling Detective Series. They come in a boxed set. In her stand-alone novel, Gold Fever, she combines mystery with a little romance.
Joan has branched into science fiction with her two books The Criminal Streak and Betrayed in her Cry of the Guilty-Silence of the Innocent series.
She is now working on her third Canadian historical for young adults. As she says Canadian history is not boring.
Links
www.joandonaldsonyarmey.com
bookswelove.net/authors/donaldson-yarmey-joan/
thetravellingdetectiveseries.blogspot.com/
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