by Sadie Conall
It was utterly silent in that wood. And as Te’tukhe stood by the grave looking around, he shuddered with unease for he didn’t understand any of this. Someone had died here, leaving his brother and Esa-mogo'ne’ to ride on alone with a child.
He shook his head and mounted his horse. By his reckoning he could catch them within a day, for they were riding slower now, held up by the little boy or girl who rode with them.
He thought back to the gorge which he had left only two days ago. He had almost lost their tracks there, for the mud and rain had almost obliterated what little they left behind and it took him several hours before he picked them up again, along with the tracks of the other horse and rider.
Te’tukhe had found the overhang where they had taken shelter from the storm, he had seen the smoky residue of their fires on the roof inside. But all evidence of a fire had been gone, for the water had risen as high as the bank taking away everything in its path, including all remains of Mi'wasa and Esa-mogo'ne’s camp inside the overhang.
He lifted himself in the saddle, pushing his feet down on his stirrups to stretch his back and legs but before he kicked the horse on he glanced back at the grave. Then he shook the unease off and rode on.
in the wild: May 1805
One
For two days we rode along the banks of the river, now several miles north of where we buried Hanyewi’winyan. The weather had been mild and Wi’keya had been easy, although since Hanyewi’winyan’s death I had given the little girl a potion of chamomile to drink every morning and at night to keep her calm. She lay against me, half asleep, yet as we rounded a bend in the river I felt the hairs suddenly rise on the back of my neck and knew we weren’t alone.
I turned to shout a warning to Ryder but he had already reined his horse in, feeling the same yet not understanding the reason for it. We moved quickly to take shelter under the trees, looking back the way we had come, when out of the corner of my eye I saw a movement, just a blur, flash past us through the trees.
“Over there,” I called out to him as he ran across to help untie Wi’keya from me.
The child was sleepy and calm and went to him willingly enough. He placed her gently within some ferns while I secured the reins of my horse before reaching for my musket. We made our way slowly across to where I had seen that movement, startled to find soft imprints made from moccasins in the damp earth. They led off into the woods.
“Someone must be camping nearby,” Ryder said. “Shall we pay them a visit?”
I shook my head, eager to return to Wi’keya and get moving. I didn’t want any more delays. I wanted to get to Allards and see my son.
The little girl lay where we left her and once we’d secured her to me, we rode off. But I felt that sense of darkness around us again, that feeling of change and knew in that moment it hadn’t left us, not even after Hanyewi’winyan’s death.
It still followed us. Silent on wings.
I wondered how long we would have to wait before it found us.
*
We camped in a little gully that night, just half a mile back from the river and some eight or nine miles north from where I had seen that person running from us in the woods. The gully was surrounded by trees fallen in a storm, but it was dry and we felt safe there. We lit three fires, creating a triangle of flame around us from the abundance of dry wood, keeping the massive trunk of a fallen elm at our backs. But as the smoke drifted up through the trees, I felt nervous about the coming night.
I wrapped Wi’keya in furs to keep her warm and gave her slices of hot meat to eat from some grouse we had shot earlier that day along with some root vegetables I had found and roasted near the open flame. She ate hungrily yet in silence, her lovely eyes watchful and alert.
Once again, I took the first watch, allowing Ryder to sleep first. I climbed one of the fallen logs and looked out into the night. We had seen a black bear earlier that morning with two cubs so I kept my musket close.
When Ryder relieved me just after midnight, we head a wolf howling way off to the west. A brown timber wolf probably. Now we were heading north and into high country and deep wooded hills we heard them occasionally, but rarely saw them. I knew from my years with esa that wolves are secretive creatures and prefer not to get close to humans. And I thought of esa as I drifted off to sleep, wondering if he were still alive after all these years.
Two
The scent of wood smoke came drifting through the trees, heavily scented with hickory which suggested someone was smoking meat. And when the distant beat of a drum echoed out across the woods, not the beat of war but someone playing for the pleasure of it, Ryder left Madeleine and Wi’keya to ride up a hill, to see who camped below them. He had barely got halfway up when he saw the massive clearing some two miles ahead of them and heard the distant sounds of men laughing, followed by others shouting in French and Sioux. And then the unexpected sound of a baby crying. There were women down there as well.
He rode back down to where Madeleine and Wi’keya waited. “Te’tukhe spoke of these camps,” he said. “He stayed in one for a week or more with Allard and his sons during their years trapping in this territory. The French called them Rendezvous. Men come to trade their furs for food, or weapons or whatever they have,” he nodded towards the north. “If we head due north we can ride around them.”
But they had barely covered another mile when Madeleine heard the horses coming towards them, riding fast. There was nowhere for them to go, for the trees were short shrubby things here, as if they had long ago been stripped for wood and kindling. And they couldn’t outride anyone, not with the little girl strapped to her.
“Get behind me,” Ryder said with some urgency.
Madeleine did as he bid, having no time to argue, even as she reached for her blanket which was draped over her shoulders. She had barely pulled it over her head to cast shadows over her face when the horses and riders appeared just off to their left. Each man pulled a packhorse behind him and each carried the carcass of a deer.
“Hey there! Bonjour monsieur!” one of the men at the front of the riders called out.
Ryder lifted his right arm, showing he held no weapons, that he came a friend.
“Hey up!” the lead man called, almost standing in his stirrups. He reined his horse in some twenty feet away from Ryder and Madeleine, as wary of them as they were of him. He was a small man but thick set, his upper body well developed, his weathered face open and honest, a man in his early fifties.
Madeleine glanced at the men with him. All French, most of them from the north and all fur trappers for they wore buckskin and fur, their hair long as were their beards, their skin brown and weathered, their hands gnarly and worn.
Behind them rode a smaller group of men yet they were accompanied by several women. They were members of a local tribe.
“Welcome to our camp Monsieur! Do you speak French? Or Sioux?” the first man called out.
“French,” Ryder called back and the man nodded.
“You a halfbreed then? Your Papa French?” he asked, yet didn’t wait for Ryder to respond before he continued speaking. “Name is Matthieu Thibault. From Lower Canada. We’ve got a big Rendezvous set up just a mile on the other side of the woods. You’re welcome to join us, even if you don’t have a care to trade,” he turned and nodded towards the men behind him.
“My brothers and our sons. And some friends from the Nakota nation. They call themselves Assiniboine. And they have corn and wild turnips and potatoes and buffalo meat to trade if you have a care for it. But from where do you come monsieur? From Lower Canada? Or did you come up the Missouri?” he asked, glancing across at Madeleine, although she said not a word.
“The Missouri,” Ryder answered. “We’re heading north to meet my brothers. Have you seen one of them by chance? He goes by the name Te’tukhe. We are of the Ugákhpa people, a division of the Dhegiha Sioux.”
The man shook his head then turned to ask the men behind him. They shook their heads as Thibault
repeated the question in Sioux to the Assiniboine. But no-one had seen Te’tukhe.
“But come join us Monsieur,” Thibault said, turning back to Ryder. “For someone else in camp might know your brother’s whereabouts. We’ve got close to one hundred people living with us, along with dozens more visiting. So please, you will be most welcome. We’re celebrating the end of three hard winters trapping in this country, but soon we head north to Canada to trade our furs with the Hudson Bay Company. Although we’ve heard talk the Hudson Bay outfit are coming down this way to start trading. You heard anything about that?”
Ryder shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”
“Well, don’t matter too much. We’re heading north anyway. But come Monsieur, might as well make camp with us for the night. You’ll be safer there than out on your own. But just so you know, we got the same rules that apply anywhere else. Leave another man’s woman alone and no liquor. If you’ve got liquor or a wandering eye, or you’ve got yourself a troublesome woman I’d ask you to go camp somewhere else. We ain’t got time for that sort of trouble.”
Ryder glanced back at Madeleine, a query in his eyes. He saw the slightest nod from her along with a hint of amusement, for some might think her a troublesome woman. He turned back to Thibault. “Yes, thank you. We gladly take up your offer.”
Thibault smiled and waved his right hand, urging the riders to move out. Ryder and Madeleine waited for them to ride on, then followed behind them. The trappers once more began to talk amongst themselves although the Assiniboine rode in silence, watchful and alert.
*
The camp was more than two miles square with teepees and solid bivouacs built around it’s perimeters. Men stood in small clusters doing trades and talking, while large family groups of women and children worked around camp fires. And after weeks of travelling alone in the wild, the sounds and smells of the camp were almost overwhelming for the scent of unwashed bodies, of horseflesh and manure, of wood smoke and herbs and roasting meat on dogwood frames, all drifted up to steal away fresh air.
As men hurried to unload the deer carcasses brought in, Thibault turned to Ryder and pointed to a large teepee on the far side of the camp. Behind it was a thick stand of hickory and beech.
“Over there, monsieur, that’s my teepee. Set your camp up behind it. My woman will look after your own and the child.”
Ryder waved and kicked his horse on. Madeleine and Wi’keya followed him. But they were only halfway across camp when Madeleine saw him standing off to one side, talking to two other men. It was impossible to miss him. He dwarfed all other men, including her beloved. He turned to look at her as if aware she was looking at him and Madeleine quickly glanced away. But she knew it was him. And it wasn’t just the size of him which made him stand out, it was the scar on the left side of his face. The wound had been caused by a knife, yet been left to heal badly.
They found a small clearing not far from Thibault’s teepee, where three women and five children were sitting around an open fire preparing a meal. The smell of food made Madeleine’s belly rumble with hunger and as Ryder hobbled their horses, Madeleine went through their meagre belongings to see what they could trade. This might be their last chance for a while to trade for tobacco, or coffee, but more than that, they needed to eat. And they either had to go back out to hunt, or trade for food here in this camp. And Madeleine had no care to ride back out so when she picked up Hanyewi’winyan’s buckskin bags, both of them of good quality leather, she passed them to Ryder. He agreed they could be used to trade.
Although they still had the duelling pistols. But Madeleine wanted Ese-ggwe’na’a to have those now. She had purchased them for him. And now they wouldn’t be used to trade for his daughter’s freedom, he would have them.
She emptied the bags of the last of Hanyewi’winyan’s herbs. These were all they had kept of the old woman’s belongings. Everything else she owned had been buried with her, including her worn blankets, the matted buffalo robe and her waterskin, for neither Madeleine nor Ryder had a care for any of it, afraid of catching the woman’s illness. But at least Hanyewi’winyan hadn’t lain on the cold earth, for they had wrapped her in her fur robe and covered her in the blankets.
As they cleaned out the bags, Thibault came striding towards them, speaking rapidly in French. “Ah, a nice spot to camp. How long will you and your family be staying Monsieur?” he asked.
“Only the night. Although we’d be glad to trade for some food, along with some coffee and tobacco.”
Thibault turned and pointed to a tall man in his early forties who stood not half a mile away, surrounded by a large group of men.
“Seek him out for your tobacco. As you can see he’s popular, indeed I only smoke his leaf myself. He’s from the Wichita tribe and personally, I believe they grow the best,” he said then turned and nodded towards a large group of women and girls and small children busy around several camp fires.
“My brothers’ families. Their women make a good living trading food they cook. I recommend them Monsieur, so take your woman and child and tell them I sent you and they’ll give you bowls of whatever they have, then come back and join my own family and we’ll share with you what we have. I look forward to hearing of your travels. Does your women speak French or Sioux?”
Ryder glanced back at Madeleine. “She speaks French rather well,” he said smiling, taking pleasure in the humour of it, feeling Madeleine’s frustration at having him speak for her. “And a little Sioux. But she can also speak English as well as my own dialect. And I’m sure she’d like to thank you for your generosity. It’s very much appreciated and most unexpected.”
The fur trapper smiled. “It’s nothing. We are used to it, for we have been coming here to trap and trade for decades, our fathers before us,” he turned and nodded towards a group of men who were looking over a herd of horses. Three of them were around Thibault’s age, the others were in their teens and early twenties.
“My sons and nephews, along with three of my brothers. Indeed, four of my children were born in this camp. But this year will be our last, for soon we head north to the Hudson Bay area to settle. With the Americans coming, this camp and others like it will change, as St Louis and New Orléans will change. The time of the French controlling this territory is over. Just as it is for the Spanish,” he turned and spat on the ground then wiped his mouth and looked back at Ryder.
“But all is not lost. From next year, we shall trade with the big fur companies. Do you know, they come to Rendezvous like this with wagon trains half a day long, full of whatever you might fancy. Whisky, women, tools, dry goods. The young ones are looking forward to the change, because we can’t bring goods like that up from St Louis or St Charles. But by summer’s end, all the trading here will be done and we’ll be moving north,” he paused, glancing at Madeleine who was listening with interest.
“But come, I talk too much. Go and eat your fill, trade for your tobacco then come back and sit with me. I look forward to hearing of your travels.”
*
They paid a few of their French francs to the Thibault women for three large clay bowls filled to overflowing with a meal of boiled wild hare and root vegetables, seasoned with herbs and served with large pieces of fried bread. Some of the women were French-Canadian, others were from local tribes. But they all sat and worked together with their children and grandchildren over several huge black cauldrons which simmered over half a dozen fires. They were accepting all manner of things as payment for a bowl of their stew and as Ryder and Madeleine sat with Wi’keya under a tree enjoying every mouthful of their meal, they watched as cured hides, beautiful pieces of fur, beaded necklaces, even small game caught in snares were offered in exchange for a meal.
When they finished eating, when Ryder left with Hanyewi’winyan’s bags to trade for some tobacco and coffee, Madeleine took Wi’keya back to their camp. When Thibault’s wife invited her to sit down with them, Madeleine accepted, along with a herbal drink of dandelion tea which
was offered in a small clay bowl.
Thibault’s wife was known as Nu’p’minaki and was from the Winnebago nation. She had met Thibault more than thirty years ago when he and his brothers stopped over at her village. She had been eighteen, Thibault in his early twenties, but she had left her father’s home to be with him. Between them they had two daughters, three sons and five grandchildren. One of those grandchildren, a girl in her late teens, sat close to Nu’p’minaki and revealed an advanced pregnancy beneath her buckskin shift.
Nu’p’minaki spoke fluent French and told Madeleine that there were some twenty permanent families living in the camp, along with scores of people from local tribes. Furs, along with buffalo and deer hides were traded for corn, squash, beans, knives and muskets. She nodded towards the Assiniboine men who had ridden in with them. They were already negotiating the purchase of four muskets, powder and shot in exchange for eight beautifully cured buffalo robes. Another group of local men were in the middle of trading three carcasses of buffalo meat which lay raw and bloody on the back of travois for a well-made European hammer, a saw and a machete. Madeleine saw another local man walk away with a good quality axe in exchange for two deer carcasses. When Madeleine commented on the food being traded for weapons, the woman smiled.
“We have enough weapons between us. What we need to get us north and through the winter is food. For out of those twenty permanent families living here, more than half will come north with us,” she smiled. “Besides, we have many beautiful furs to trade for new weapons once we reach Lower Canada.”
As they talked, as Madeleine held the herbal drink to Wi’keya for the little girl to share, she dared to glance back to where she had seen the huge man with the scarred face. He was now sitting before a fire, a large bivouac constructed behind him as he smoked a pipe alongside four other men. Behind them sat three women and several young children. Madeleine asked Nu’p’minaki if she knew him.
