It was growing dark. Drooping Flower returned to the cabin and spread bear pelts on the ground for everyone to sleep on. Captain curled up outside the door.
Hope had never before had a bear pelt as a bed. The thick, springy fur was comfortable, but too warm for a sticky, humid late summer night. She dozed off, but after a while was wakened by the sound of the door opening and closing. Unable to go back to sleep, she went outside.
There was Elijah sitting with his back against a poplar tree, its silvery leaves aflutter in the breeze. The moon was full. By its light she saw tears running down her brother’s face. She approached and sat down at his side.
“Sixteen men,” he mumbled through his tears. “I didn’t see one of them as a fellow human being. They were targets. The crossing of their white cross belts was the bull’s eye. When I hit the mark and saw blood bloom like a red rose, I was a hero. I notched the stock of my rifle for each kill. But my killing didn’t stop at sixteen men. There was one more. He was not an enemy; he was my friend.”
Elijah’s shoulders heaved, and he buried his face in his hands.
CHAPTER 28
Ghosts
By morning Elijah had pulled himself together. Nothing in his bearing revealed any trace of his distress during the night. After taking their leave of Okwaho and Drooping Flower, Hope and Elijah returned to the trail. Heading southwest, they travelled through a forest of oak, maple and pine. Captain lagged behind, unwilling to let any hole in the ground remain unexamined, but he was never out of sight for long.
The path was heavily overgrown. Hope had to watch out for roots that snaked across the path. Slender branches that Elijah pushed out of the way had a spiteful tendency to whip back and slap her face. She seldom looked up; instead, she kept her gaze mostly fixed on the ground so that what she saw were her own scuffed shoes trudging along.
At sundown they stopped beside a narrow stream. Hope sank wearily onto the grass. “Why don’t you sit down?” she asked Elijah. “Don’t you ever get tired?”
“I’ve been tired for so long that I don’t think about it.” He opened the satchel, took out bread and cheese, and brought her share to her. “Eat this. It’s all that’s left of the food Charlotte packed. I’ll set snares tonight. If I catch anything, we’ll have food for tomorrow.”
What if you don’t catch anything? Hope kept her doubts to herself, fearful that a careless word would provoke another upset. She had always thought of a big brother as someone to look after her. Now she had found one of her big brothers, but he had problems worse than hers. At best, they might take care of each other. Maybe that wasn’t a bad idea.
After looking to left and right, Elijah sat down with his back against a tree. “I wish there were some shelter,” he said, “I don’t like being in the open. Even though it was uncomfortable lying under the floor at Nick and Charlotte’s home, I felt safe.”
“It would have terrified me to be trapped with a plank over my head,” said Hope. “If the person I was hiding from lifted the plank and saw me …” She shuddered.
“I almost hoped that would happen,” said Elijah, “because then there would be nothing I could do. No way to escape. It would be a relief to have everything end.”
“You don’t mean that,” Hope said. “If you really did, you wouldn’t be here.”
“I suppose that’s true.” After a long pause, he added, “Do you want me to light a fire?”
“Is it safe?”
“A campfire attracts attention if there’s anyone about. On the other hand, it keeps wild animals away.”
She thought about this. They had not met any other travellers on this old trail. As for wild animals, so far she had seen nothing bigger than a porcupine. But who knew what lurked in the forest at night?
“Do you want a fire, or not? Make up your mind.” He was clenching his fists, his hands white at the knuckles.
She saw that he was fighting to control himself. But what had she said to upset him? Hope took a deep breath. “Yes. Please make a fire.”
“Fine.” He stood up. “You gather the firewood while I set snares.” He walked off into the bush.
Hope was torn between relief at having him out of her sight, fear at being alone and anxiety about the kind of mood he would be in when he returned.
It was dusk when he came back. He seemed satisfied with the pile of dry twigs and branches that she had gathered. He took his flint, steel and tinder from his pouch. When he had a tiny flame going, he fed it the smallest twigs first, soon building up a healthy blaze.
Hope felt safe in the circle of firelight. Frogs croaked. Crickets chirped. These were reassuring noises. Then in the distance a wolf howled. Captain jumped up, threw back his head and howled in return.
“Stop that noise!” said Hope. Captain looked sheepish and lay down again. “He doesn’t know whether he’s a dog or a wolf,” she explained.
“That’s something he’ll have to figure out for himself,” said Elijah. “I reckon it’s a problem we all have, discovering what we are and not what others expect us to be.” He seemed to be looking past her as he spoke, not seeing her at all.
She thought about what he had said. It made sense. Charlotte and Nick came to mind. Everybody had expected Nick to be a farmer. He too had taken it for granted. He looked like a farmer—a big man who seemed made for the outdoor life. But he and Charlotte had figured out that he was meant to be a teacher. What about Elijah? She asked herself. What is he meant to be? What about me?
Hope watched the flames sink to embers. She felt safe, with her blanket wrapped around her and Captain curled up against her back. The moon, which was just past the full, gave enough light for her to see Elijah resting against the tree. She wished he would lie down to get a proper rest. His wakefulness troubled her but was reassuring at the same time. It was like having a sentry on guard.
Hope was sound asleep when suddenly she was wakened by a shriek. She bolted up and stared about. So did Captain, his ears pricked and his nose pointed toward a frenzy of thrashing and snarling in the undergrowth only a few feet away.
“A lynx caught something. Nothing for you to worry about,” said Elijah. She saw that he had his tomahawk in his hand.
She scrunched down into her blanket and pressed her palms against her ears. This shut out most of the noise of tearing, grunting and chomping. It did not make her stop trembling. Their next visitor might be a bigger animal, perhaps a cougar looking for a meal.
After a time, when the lynx had finished devouring its prey and had left, the shaking of her body lessened. She began to relax, but she did not go back to sleep.
At first light she crawled from her blanket. There was still some firewood left. She placed an armful of dry sticks on the embers. As the flames spurted, her little spark of courage seemed to grow. She was still alive. Maybe there was only a slim chance that this quest would succeed. If it failed, she would not be any worse off. There was her brother asleep with his back against the tree. By the light of the fire he looked soiled and unshaven. The bristles stood out on his jaw. If she could carry on to the end, no matter what the outcome, simply being with her on this long trail might do him some good.
One of Elijah’s snares supplied a rabbit for breakfast. Elijah skinned it so deftly it looked as if he were peeling off a stocking. Without its furry hide, the rabbit was no longer an animal. It was meat. Elijah dumped the entrails onto the ground a few feet away to let Captain enjoy a feast. Wagging his tail, he poked his hungry muzzle into the slippery mess.
Elijah cut the rabbit into pieces that they grilled on green sticks over the fire. Since there was more than enough for one meal, they saved the hindquarters. Elijah wrapped the meat in leaves and tucked it into the satchel.
Halfway through the morning they came upon the ruins of a native village. Nothing remained except charred poles covered with grapevines.
“Huron lived here a long time ago,” said Elijah. “Today, this trail connects nothing to nothing, but it wasn’t always this way. There were many
Huron villages. If you poke around in the grass, you’ll find remains of lodges.”
“Where did the Huron go?”
“The Iroquois killed them off. From further back than anyone remembers, the Iroquois and the Huron were enemies. When Europeans arrived, the Huron allied themselves with the French and the Iroquois with the English. What they got from these alliances were better weapons to kill each other. After the Iroquois wiped out the Huron, almost nobody lived in these lands until the Mississaugas moved in. We may meet a few along the way.”
“I’ve already met some Mississaugas,” said Hope. “They came to the Blocks’ cabin with brooms and baskets to trade for food. Mrs. Block told them to go away.”
“Most people tell them to go away. White people figure that after you’ve sold your land, you’re obliged to leave it. From the Mississauga point of view, all they gave was permission to share. But with so much white settlement, there’s little game left. It’s become harder and harder for the Mississaugas to feed themselves. They have a hard life.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“They aren’t a warlike nation. Of course, anyone can be dangerous if he’s hungry enough.”
Hope felt a cold chill as she looked around at the grassy space where nobody lived any longer. “I don’t like this place. It’s full of ghosts.”
“You can’t escape from ghosts. They follow you everywhere.”
They returned to the trail. As Hope plodded on, she peered into the shadows between the trees and imagined ghostly shapes.
CHAPTER 29
Against the Wall
Just before sunset they made camp on the shore of a marshy inlet where flotillas of yellow pond lilies bloomed on the surface of the water. Elijah made Hope a bed of spruce boughs. Then he made one for himself. A good sign. If he was going to sleep lying down, he must be getting better.
That night she lay on her spruce-bough bed, and Elijah lay on his. Captain snuggled against Hope’s back. She listened drowsily to the peeping and croaking of a mighty chorus of frogs. Everything seemed fine when she went to sleep.
Hope dreamed she was lying on her cot in the barracks and she heard someone crying. The sound woke her. Someone was crying. But she was not in the barracks, and the sobbing came from Elijah. Hope didn’t know what to do about it.
If she woke him, would he rage against her? Or would he be grateful for rescue from his demons? She had heard that it was dangerous to waken a person from a nightmare, although she did not know why. She remembered what Ma used to do for bad dreams. It was worth a try. Wriggling out of her blanket, and thus dislodging Captain from his comfortable spot pressed against her back, she crawled to Elijah. Laying her hand on the top of his head, she gently stroked his hair. At her touch he gave a twitch; she kept on stroking.
His sobs ceased, and she hoped that he would now drift into quiet sleep, but instead he started mumbling, and it sounded as though the most unutterable anguish was wrenched from him in every broken phrase. “Malcolm … don’t look at me like that…”
She leaned over, put her mouth to his ear. “Elijah, it’s just a dream. Wake up!”
But he would not stop. “Shoulder arms … Aim … No! I can’t …”
She felt a furry shoulder press against her. Captain had come to help. He licked Elijah’s cheek, licked it again and again. With Hope stroking his hair and Captain licking his cheek, Elijah woke up.
“What’s going on?” He sat bolt upright.
“You had a nightmare.”
“Did I say anything?”
She hesitated. “There was somebody called Malcolm.”
Elijah held his head in both hands. “Sergeant Malcolm.” Now his words came in a rush. “We were together at the siege of Charleston. Children screaming. Houses burning. People starving. We were sharpshooters, did our killing at a distance. This was close up. Too close. He couldn’t take it anymore. He deserted. I understood. They caught him and brought him back. I was picked for the firing squad.”
“Elijah, you don’t have to tell me.” She laid her hand on his arm.
He shook off her hand. “There were six of us in a row. The sun had just risen when they brought him from the guardhouse. They’d stripped the buttons from his uniform. His face was grey. Sweat rolled down his face. He was trembling so hard that his guards had to support him. He didn’t struggle when they stood him against the wall. I reckon he’d been awake all night thinking about what was going to happen to him, and he’d made up his mind to die with dignity.
“We were going to shoot at him until he was dead. If the first volley didn’t hit any vital organs, there’d be a second volley. The guards turned him around so he was facing us, his back pressed against the wall. His eyes held no expression until he saw me. I’ll never forget the look he gave me. Shock and … pity.”
“Pity?”
“Because he knew what I had to do. We’d shared our thoughts. He knew that mine were the same as his. He’d acted on them. I hadn’t. If it had been the other way around, I would have been the one against the wall.”
She felt his body tremble as he spoke. “I see it day and night—the way the way he looked at me before they tied the blindfold around his eyes. I can’t bear to think about his final minutes while he waited for our bullets to slam into him. Did it seem a long time or a short time? I hope it was short.” Elijah clenched and unclenched his fists. “After it was over, I knew I’d rather lose my own life than ever again take another’s.”
Hope contemplated his words for some minutes. “So you deserted.”
“Yes.”
In the silence that followed, she could hear Colonel Butler’s voice: “Terrible things happen in war.” These words were better than any she could think of, and so she said them.
Elijah nodded. “There’s no glory in it at all.”
They did not talk any more but sat close together as night faded and the first streaks of light penetrated the trees.
Would Elijah ever be whole again? People said, “Time will heal.” Did it? Many years had passed. Surely by now time had done everything it could! The Cherokees had helped him with their healing ceremony. His wife Swims Deep had helped him with her loving care. Now it was up to her. What could she do to help him the rest of the way?
CHAPTER 30
The Test
The sun shone, birds sang, cicadas thrummed. This was Hope and Elijah’s fourth day on the trail, and during that time they had not seen another human being.
Then three warriors stepped out from the trees. One moment the warriors were not there, and the next moment they were. Their faces were dark and angry. They wore leggings and breech cloth. No shirts. No scalp locks. Their hair was braided. Mississaugas. They blocked the path. One held a tomahawk, one a war club and one a bow with the arrow notched but the bowstring not pulled back.
Everything stopped. The forest was plunged into silence. Even the cicadas ceased their strident hum. Elijah stood as motionless as if he had been carved from wood. Hope wanted to scream but could not make a sound.
“Come with us,” said the warrior holding the bow. He raised it, pointing the arrow at Elijah’s throat, and drew the string halfway. Elijah did not move.
The metal arrowhead caught a flash of sunlight. Hope pulled her eyes away from the shiny tip. She did not want to see the arrow fly. The warrior with the tomahawk said something in his own language. She understood the menace in his voice.
The bowman pulled back the string even further and made a gesture with his head, indicating that Elijah should walk ahead, down the path. Elijah did not move. He seemed to be in a trance.
Where was Captain? Off chasing a squirrel, probably. If they ever needed a guard dog, it was now. Then from the corner of her eye Hope saw him bounding along the trail, catching up in his usual manner.
The warrior with the club saw him and raised the club. Captain woofed, wagged his tail and kept on coming. Puppy-like, he seemed to think this was a game. The warrior slung his club just as Captain jum
ped up. It was a wild swing, leaving the man’s feet unbalanced. He stepped back, and at that instant fifty pounds of fur and muscle collided with his stomach and knocked him over. Suddenly, the warrior was on his back with the big, excited puppy standing on his chest. His war club lay at Hope’s feet.
Hope’s scream split the air. The bowman swung his bow around, the string taut and the arrow aimed at her. He was ready to release it when Elijah came to life. With a shout, he sprang forward and knocked the bow aside. The arrow flew harmlessly into the trees.
Then Elijah laid about him with hands and feet. He caught the bowman by his braided hair, dragged his head back and forced him to the ground. Elijah was straddling the now bowless bowman when the warrior with the tomahawk charged. His tomahawk lifted high, he was ready to bring it down on the back of Elijah’s neck.
What happened next was like a dream. Hope seemed to be watching as if it were another person who scooped up the fallen war club, clutched it in both hands and swung it hard. She felt the impact; it flew like lightning up both arms as the club struck the warrior’s head. There was a sharp crack. He pitched forward, his face hitting the ground. Hope looked from the war club in her hands to the motionless figure on the ground. Had she really done that?
Captain, wildly barking, standing on the chest of the warrior he had knocked down, still seemed to think that this was a game. But then the warrior grabbed him by the throat to wrestle him aside. Captain squealed.
“Let go of my dog!” Hope shouted as she leapt, brandishing the war club. The warrior sank back, one hand releasing his grip on Captain’s throat as he raised his arm to protect himself from the coming blow.
The threat was enough. Hope did not need to strike. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun.
Elijah’s man was face down, one arm twisted behind his back while Elijah pulled a ball of cord from his pouch. Soon he had the warrior’s wrists bound, and then his ankles. When that was done, he tied up the warrior whom Hope and Captain had overcome.
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