The 53rd Parallel

by Carl Nordgren

  “Kevin saved her?”

  “When you collided with the horse, it slowed the cart so she could jump out. I caught her when she did.”

  Eamon was carefully examining his cousin's head for evidence of injury. “How badly hurt are ya?”

  Brian opened his eyes again, moved his legs, then his arms.

  “It's my bum shoulder throbbin' an' my head.” He closed his eyes again. “Do I see Katie standin' here?”

  Katie didn't respond.

  “She's here.”

  “I'm okay, Katie dear. Don't worry about me. I'm fine. This bump on my head has got the world spinnin' when I open my eyes, that's all. I'll be right in a moment.”

  Someone arrived with a cup of water, another with a water bowl and towel. After Brian sipped the water, Eamon wet the towel and washed Brian's face.

  “That's all I need. I'm feelin' better already. I am.”

  He sat up, took the cup again, and smiled at Katie before he drank.

  The word reached the crowd that the runaway horse was reined in, and since Brian seemed fine the movie people began to disperse. The villagers stayed, for this was the first time Brian Burke and one of his children were together since Brian's exile.

  Brian pulled himself up to sit on the curb, Eamon sat next to his cousin, Katie stood behind her uncle. Kevin was sitting on the other side of Brian. Someone draped the damp towel over Brian's neck and he took another drink of water, noticed all the folks still at hand, and found Aidan among them.

  “Aidan, do me a favor. Tell Gus I'll buy the first pint for each of you in honor of this man's deeds.” He nodded in pain to Kevin. “Help the hero Kevin to the pub an' let him tell you how his exploits was even trickier with me in his way.”

  Aidan helped Kevin back to his feet, and they moved as quickly as his sore back allowed, up the street and into the pub.

  The street was quiet. Brian sat still on the edge of the curb where moments before he had hit his head. In the soft dusk light he studied his daughter's face as she looked back at him. Brian had never seen how much his daughter was looking like Deirdre and he enjoyed sitting there looking at her.

  Eamon put his hand on Brian's shoulder. Her father's first tears were met by Katie's sad smile.

  Eamon stood.

  “You could go for a walk. Down Main Street an' back. I'll just follow along.”

  Katie shook her head no, without knowing she had, as she took one step back. Brian saw it.

  “No, I think I need to sit here a bit.”

  The pain in his head caused him to clench his hands and that was when he discovered the sharp burn where two of his fingers had been twisted and sprained when he grabbed the horse's harness.

  Brian was as startled by his behavior as Katie was when, after staring at his damaged fingers, he placed his head in his hands and began to sob.

  Katie stepped closer to place her hand on her father's shoulder, but she couldn't.

  “My Katie. My sweet, sweet Katie. Hate me if you must, but please, please don't be afraid of me.”

  He wiped his tears on his sleeve before he looked up again. His head was pounding.

  “If you would let me try… if I could show you… how sorry I am… I love you. I miss you, an' Patrick… an' Tommy.”

  His pain was making him sick.

  “I was afraid for Patrick when I heard you were comin' back.”

  “Yes… It's a strong, brave girl you've become, who knows how to take care for people you love. I want to show you I have learned how to do that, to take care of the people I love. Like you do.”

  “When I saw you lying there, I was afraid you were hurt.” She said 'hurt' so quietly no one heard.

  “Can I give you a hug?”

  Katie stepped back, closer to Uncle Eamon.

  “He wants to give me a hug.”

  “Don't you want to give your da a hug, too?”

  Before she could answer, the horse and cart and driver came around the corner, the mother sitting at the driver's side, holding her daughter in her arms. The driver stopped close by.

  “You going to be all right?”

  “Yes. How's the little girl?”

  “Still scared, but she's not hurt. Thanks for saving her.”

  “The man named Kevin Coogan was the man who saved her.”

  “We were told you had a part and we thank you for riskin' yourself to play it.”

  While Brian was talking with the man in the cart, Katie whispered to her uncle, “I don't want him to hug me.” Eamon asked the driver, “He says he's not hurt, but if you could give him a ride to my cottage, we'll come along behind and get him bandaged.”

  The mother and daughter slipped to the back of the cart and Brian climbed in next to the driver. The horse pulled them up the street and out of town to Eamon's cottage.

  After a rest his head cleared, so Brian and Eamon headed into town to join the second half of what grew into a great celebration of riotous laughter around Eamon and Brian and Kevin, as the Quiet Man, the Fishing Camp Owner, and the Little Girl's Hero each had their best stories to tell.

  The whole audience was fully captivated by each one of them.

  That night the movie stars were elsewhere, and the rest of the Hollywood crowd must have gone with them. That allowed the locals the room for full-throated merriment as they played themselves.

  But then Kevin noticed that the stranger standing at the bar was Timmy. Five minutes after Timmy left the pub Kevin slipped away, saw him up the street, and followed him to a dark corner.

  Timmy had come from Dublin with bad news for Kevin.

  “Eddie Gallagher died yesterday mornin', an' I gotta tell you they're threatenin' us in all seriousness. For starters, they want your lad. We tried to talk this out with them, since, after all, it was them who came after you, but they won't give us time. Gallagher was a senior commander, Kevin, an' your lad… he's just a lad.”

  “Our lad. Start saying he's our lad.”

  “Yeah, well, it hain't me callin 'im your lad, it's them. An' they know who he is. An' they say they want your lad punished now, and fully, or they're threatenin' things could get bad between us.”

  “He had no idea he was getting himself into this sort of thing, Timmy. He was bringing me the news we're using to locate Maureen O'Toole, and he came to my rescue.”

  “No disputin' he's done us a good turn, Kevin, just as there's no disputin' it was his blow killed Gallagher. It's bad there's been the splinter there's been, but it would be a whole 'nother thing if we started killin' each other, so.”

  “The people of Ireland would never stand for that, and surely they see that as clearly as we do. It's their own interest to settle this reasonably.”

  “Seems to us who's been talkin' with 'em that it may be they don't put as much stock in how the people might think as we always have. It's this new set who sees things different, and da feckin' scary thing is, sometimes they see things a lot different. It's the effect of the war. Seems killin' is easier for some since the war.”

  “He's my lad, so it falls to me?”

  “I'm here to take it on. 'Cause if it don't get done right an' right now, they say they'll be comin' after you, Kevin.”

  “You don't know where he is.”

  “So tell me.”

  Kevin stepped back deeper into shadows when he heard footsteps that passed by unaware.

  “I'll take care of it.”

  “You'll do it?”

  “I'll tell him it's resolved and he can come home now. We'll let him spend a couple of days with his mum. His innocence earns him that at least. I'll wait round here and then ask him to drive with me to Dublin. And I'll take care of business.”

  Aidan prepared to drive Brian back to Dublin to catch his plane home. As he waited outside Eamon's cottage, he had the car's bonnet pulled back to pour water in the radiator.

  Eamon leaned against the car, and Brian loaded his suitcase in the back seat. Katie stood back, near the cottage door, and looked at photo
s of Ojibway girls her father had given to her uncle to give to her.

  “Thanks for the chance, Cos, but I'd say it hain't better than a one in ten that your, what did you call him, your close companion Johnny Wayne, will take me up wit' any part of the offer if he wouldn't even find time to meet again.”

  “At least you booked your first huntin' trip.”

  “They arrive two days after we was figurin' to shut down, an' for what we're chargin' 'em, I figured we'll be cuttin' our first year losses almost in half.”

  Brian motioned to Katie.

  “You gave her the photos.”

  “And I gave Patrick his as well.”

  “Did he take them?”

  “Not yet. But he knows they're there for him when he wants them.”

  “Thanks.”

  Katie looked up from the pictures and called out across the yard to her uncle.

  “What are their names?”

  Her father answered.

  “The older girl is Marie Loon. The younger one is her sister, Ruthie.”

  “They don't have Indian names?”

  “Sure they do, Katie.”

  “Do you know them?”

  “I don't remember, but I can have them write to you an' tell you.”

  Katie smiled and waved, and as she turned to enter Eamon's cottage she said, “Tell them to send me more pictures when they write.”

  When she was gone, Brian got into the car with Aidan. He rolled down the window, and Eamon leaned against the door to speak with him.

  “He was interested until the moment you arrived. That's when he heard me an' Tommy talkin' about what happened an' that I'd made you leave.”

  “He heard about me beatin' Patrick?”

  “None of that. But he did become suspicious of you.”

  “I guess for what I did, I should be servin' penance still.”

  “I'll look for a chance to talk with 'im again. An' Victor might still be interested. You tell your lady Maureen I look forward to meetin' her someday and good luck to you both.”

  “An' congratulations.”

  “An' congratulations?”

  “When I get back, I'm goin' to ask her to marry me.”

  “Congratulations!”

  “If I can't get her to come here for a weddin' this winter, we'll plan it when you come visitin' next summer.”

  “Can I tell folks?”

  “Take some a' the money I left in your chest drawer an' buy a round of drinks on your announcement of it.”

  Brian and Aidan drove away.

  Chapter 23

  This Man and the English

  The first fur trader outpost was far beyond the edge of European settlement when it was built by the French voyageur. It was a simple cabin on high ground, above the River, and it served him well for many years.

  Soon after the British occupied the post they added two more buildings and constructed a rough stockade surrounding them. The original cabin—the smallest—was the living quarters for the factor. A larger cabin was a bunkhouse for trading company employees with extra beds for trappers in need of one for the night and the senior officers of the patrols of soldiers who showed up at infrequent intervals. The troops would stake their tents inside the stockade.

  The largest cabin was the commercial building where trading goods and furs were stored, secured, exchanged, recorded, and shipped, and where a small office was set up in a corner.

  The new factor was sitting at the office table that looked out over the room. As he marked in his ledger, two employees—an Englishman and an Ottawa—called out the inventory of the trading supplies they had transported across the wilderness to the post. Suddenly, another Englishman burst through the door, looking back over his shoulder with deep concern.

  “Mister Ellis, you need to—”

  He interrupted himself to step aside as the Ojibway chief strode in, and then the chief stepped aside as his warriors, each one displaying his full battle dress, entered the room.

  One after the other, they entered. They wore many feathers. Their faces were painted, red and yellow and black and white. Each carried a spear or a war club or a battle axe. Some had bows over one shoulder, quivers filled with arrows over the other. A dozen Ojibway warriors stood stone quiet along the walls and still more came. Their chests were bare or covered with breastplates of beads and quills.

  Three carried muskets, loaded and primed.

  The only sound was the whisper of their moccasins and one employee's, “Oh, my God” of a gasp followed by his hard breathing.

  This Man entered last, after nearly twenty warriors had filled the room.

  The English factor had looked up from his record book when the procession began but stayed seated. The other Englishmen sidled over to the table. The Ottawa stood behind the factor. Because the Ottawa and Ojibway spoke similar dialects of the Algonquin tongue, the Hudson Bay Trading Company had assigned him here from an eastern post.

  The chief stepped forward, holding a few beaded strings in one hand, his war club in the other. The Ottawa translated the words of the Ojibway chief for the English factor, and because there were differences in their native languages the Ottawa sometimes interpreted.

  “This English must be brave and not afraid of death to come among your enemies. Our French Father treats us as we treat our favored children. We promise our French Father our friendship for him. This friendship is strong even when he is chased away by you English. We come to tell you English we keep the friendship with the French Father. It is you who have brought war to our French Father. It is you who steal from him. You may have defeated the French. You have not defeat us. Do not look at us as weak. If you have brought war with you here, you will be destroyed. I can hear the French Father waking. I know he is rising from his bed to gather his best warriors to strike you hard.”

  The Ottawa then translated the factor's calm words.

  “I have heard there is no one who speaks as eloquently as Ka-ka-ke. These must be the words of the great chief of his tribe.”

  “I am Ka-ka-ke. But it is Omig-aun-dib who is the chief. He is my father.”

  “I am honored the favored son of such a great chief would come to greet me. I am honored you call me a brave man who is not afraid of death. I ask you to honor me as a man of peace who is not afraid to tell you I do not like war. I love this land and respect your people. I wish to help you. To bring you great riches. You see I have come unarmed. You see there are no red coats in the fort. Let us agree we do not need them.”

  “I see you have come unarmed. But you have many red coats you can call. The French did not bring their warriors with them.”

  “There are many red coats who carry many firearms for the English King. To defeat an enemy as great as the French, these red coats must be very powerful. The red coats can hear my call if I need protection. But when the red coats come, they steal my best trading goods. I would rather trade these goods with the great Ka-ka-ke and his people for many beaver furs.”

  “We will listen to what you say. We will watch what you do.”

  Ka-ka-ke held out his war club to the factor.

  “Everyone knows this is the war club of Ka-ka-ke. As long as you hold it, no

  Ojibway will harm you. If your red coats come with their rifles to harm my people, I will return for my club, and I will use it to kill many English. You will be first.”

  “I understand. Let me show you the fine treasures I have brought with me now. I would like to give the great Ka-ka-ke a gift so he will learn the British will be great friends.”

  Chapter 24

  Simon Fobister

  The days Brian spent in Cong were the days of Simon's vision quest. Simon sat at the highest point for many miles in every direction. He sat on a beaver fur near the edge of the cliff that marked that highest spot. He was wearing the moccasins his grandmother had made for him. He wore the necklace the men placed around his neck when they left him alone at this cliff.

  As the sun rose, he looked ou
t over the eastern sky and soon shed the blanket that kept him warm while he sat there through the night. He had tried to stay awake but dozed off occasionally.

  A narrow, yellow stripe of paint cut diagonally across his cheeks from below each eye to each corner of his jaw.

  Simon had been on the mountaintop for two days and two nights.

  He had water to drink, and he ate a handful of blueberries and a little bit of venison jerky each morning.

  He was praying, and he was fasting for his vision.

  This Man stood just at the clearing's perimeter.

  Simon sat before the only tree on the cliff, an old cedar gnarled and twisted from fighting the winds and clinging to thin soil. Feathers and strings of beads had been tied with rawhide from some of the cedar's branches, and they hung down behind him, the feathers riding the slightest breezes.

  Enough of the sun emerged now that he closed his eyes to the brighter intensity of it as he breathed in air full of the cedar's deep red heartwood. He closed his eyes tighter and watched the lights dancing just inside his eyelids. One of those lights began to take a shape so he followed it as it grew and split and added color at the edges.

  This Man spread his arms and closed his eyes and chanted what the spirits spoke of, softly, to the wind.

  When Simon and This Man opened their eyes again, hours had gone by. Each checked the sun and saw it had passed its midday height.

  Simon had clear pictures dancing in his head from the first day he spent on the mountain top, and they returned, in new versions, and always telling the same story. But since they were the familiar pictures he hoped to see he was confused, for he knew of no one whose vision was exactly what he prayed it would be.

  Ever since the white man they call Big Brian had arrived to help them guard the River as Joe Loon's dreams had foretold, Simon watched for the white man who might be the River's destroyer, as the dreams had also prophesied. Joe Loon invited all the people of his clan to see Simon as a guardian of the River. Whenever the spirits and the ancestors were called for in ceremony, Simon showed himself to the spirits as a boy with this purpose.