Page 13

C aptain Kelly refused any payment for aiding their escape from England. From his able hands, their party of three was introduced to another friend of Birdy’s father, a disreputable-looking Englishman who introduced himself as Joseph Smith. Birdy had no recollection of meeting Joe Smith, but he behaved as if he knew her.

“When is the last time you saw my father?” she asked as she tried to place his face to a memory.

“A matter of months, I should think. He spoke so much of you and so highly too that when Kelly approached me, I rushed at the chance to transport you to Montreal. Your father has thrown more than a little commerce my way, and I’m happy to repay him with this brief journey.”

“How long will it take?” Crispin asked as he placed Birdy’s hand on his arm. “My wife and I are eager to be on our way.”

“My apologies, Lord Morgan,” Smith said with a bow. “There is little society along the St. Lawrence. We are informal here. I intended no offense by speaking to your lady out of turn.”

“No offense taken.” Crispin acknowledged the man’s bow with a nod of his head. “My wife is free to speak to whom she pleases. I find myself ready to remind others she is a married woman and a lady, lest they become too familiar.”

“No worries on that front, milord. I’m a married man myself. My good wife, Wasueg, is of the Mi’kmaq people. We’ll meet up with her in Montreal. Even here, traveling at night is tricky. We’ll leave at seven bells in the morning. That’s my ship,” he said, pointing farther down the dock to a single masted sloop. “The Trustworthy.”

“We’ll be there,” Crispin said, reaching out to shake Smith’s extended hand.

“It will be dark soon,” Birdy observed. “We’ll need to find a room for the night.”

“I’m hungry,” Luke chimed in.

“You’re always hungry,” Crispin teased. “Let’s see what hospitality might be found in this place.”

“You hear that?” Luke asked as he looked up and down the docking area. “Everybody here is speaking a different language. I don’t speak no French.”

“You’ll learn,” Birdy said, reaching out to pat down his wayward hair. “Where’s your cap?”

“I gave it to Xisco. I wanted to thank him for showing me the ropes.”

“If you wanted to stay on the Agonde, it could have been arranged.” Crispin flexed his hands into fists as they waited for Luke’s response.

“Captain Kelly said I could come back if I decided the sea life was for me. Xisco told me I should see the land too, before I make my decision.”

“Wise advice.” Crispin’s hands unclenched and Birdy smiled. During their few weeks together it was obvious Crispin relished the role of father-figure to the clever young lad. He would have grieved the boy’s absence should he have chosen the sea.

Well-fed and finally settled into the two rooms they booked for the night, Birdy smiled, knowing that she was almost home. Everywhere she looked, she found something or someone familiar to her. The sound of her native tongue from the busy street nearly sent her running, looking for the speaker.

Instead, she reached out to Crispin. “Come to bed,” she said. “We will not be alone again for some time. Let me relax you for the journey ahead.”

“I have done many foolish things in my life, but I’m not fool enough to turn down such an offer.” Crispin untucked his shirt and pulled it over his head. Their sea journey had hardened his body and defined muscles. He’d been determined to learn the ropes alongside Luke, and it had had a profound effect on his physique.

Shimmying out of the simple dress she’d worn for their travel, Birdy sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned him closer. She didn’t often take the time to linger over his body but was determined to do so tonight. He was well put together and tall for an Englishman. He would stand nose to nose with the best hunters and warriors of her mother’s tribe.

She waited for him to disrobe before playfully reaching out with her foot to pull him closer. “Do not let me fall asleep before you’re ready,” she teased.

“I’m always ready.” He followed his boast by scooping her up into his arms while climbing on the bed. “You’re so warm,” he said, rubbing his face into her breasts while his hand snaked down between her legs.

Kissing the top of his head, Birdy wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. They were safe here, and she was feeling wild and reckless. Locking her legs around him, she rolled them across the bed. His response was laughter, and he made a game of attempting to stick his tongue in her ear.

“ Ew .” She spit out the word between giggles before he captured her mouth with his. The kiss was slow and long, and she could feel his raging erection against her thigh. Her body hummed with anticipation and warmth spread from between her legs to her chest. She wanted to be touched; she needed him to make love to her.

“Take me from behind,” she panted out, squirming in his arms until she was on her knees. Happiness flooded her senses as he rose to his knees behind her. Her body was ready for him and his first thrust was heaven. Screaming her pleasure into the pillow, she wiggled her hips to urge him on.

“Birdy.” He spoke the word like a prayer before flexing his hips again. At first steady as a heartbeat, his movements became powerful and frantic. “Birdy.” He grunted out her name as he reached his climax.

Collapsing back onto the bed, they were both struggling for breath. Warm and sated, a sheen of perspiration covered her chest and upper lip. When she could breathe normally again, she pulled up a blanket to cover them both.

“I love you, Birdy,” she heard him say before he drifted off to sleep.

The sloop, the Trustworthy, lived up to its name, and they arrived in Montreal by late afternoon. Their journey from Montreal to Ottawa was still being arranged and Mr. Smith offered the hospitality of his home for their evening meal and beds for the night.

“I understand you lived here for a few years,” Crispin said to Birdy while Mr. Smith secured a wagon. “Is there anyone you wish to see? Anywhere you’d like to go?”

“My time here was informative, but not always happy,” she replied. “The people I’d call friends have long left this place.”

“I understand.” After his terrifying term at Harrow, he kept in touch with only two schoolmates, Mumford and Davies. He’d posted one last letter to each from Grimsby in order to let someone he trusted know what had become of him. Shunned by the other boys at Harrow, Mumford and Davies were the only two who stood by him through it all.

“I suppose we’ll be needing more supplies,” he said, looking at their meager pile of belongings. “I swear Luke has grown six inches since we met him.”

“He’ll be as tall as you are someday. I’m selfishly glad he didn’t stay at sea. I enjoy his company, and I want to show off my village.”

“Is it a hard journey? To your village, I mean.” He wasn’t sure what he expected her to say. While they might have escaped danger from Dunwoody, he wasn’t na?ve enough to think there would be no further challenges.

“I’ve traveled the route before and will not lie and tell you it is like a walk through Hyde Park. There are rapids to navigate, swamps to ford, wild animals, and the possibility of encountering a raiding party. On the other hand, it is also the trail taken by women and children. I found biting insects to be the most bothersome part of the journey.”

“So,” he sighed. “Arrows and insects.” To her, it probably sounded simple. To him, it was not. He’d avoided any form of wilderness since Timothy’s death. Their uncomfortable nights outside in Grimsby had done little to ease his mind.

“We’ll be prepared for both.” She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his arm. Her gesture was one of understanding and he smiled his appreciation.

Their few free hours flew by as Birdy guided them through the place she’d once lived. They walked past her school, but she declined to stop in to visit. Perhaps her time here wasn’t as happy as Crispin had first imagined. Luke was happy enough to see the old churches, a hospital, and the formidable remains of an old fort. While much of the fort had crumbled from weather and disuse, two watch towers still stood tall like sentries guarding the ruins.

Dinner with the Smiths was unlike anything Crispin imagined. Mrs. Smith, dressed in buckskins, spoke halting English and spent the meal speaking to Birdy in a language he didn’t understand. It didn’t appear to be Birdy’s native tongue either, as the ladies often laughed and repeated themselves with accompanying hand gestures.

It was the first time he’d heard his wife introduce herself as Nenokaasi . How had he not noticed that she’d taken her hair down and wore two simple braids decorated with beads and a feather? Under her traveling skirt, she wore her leather stockings and moccasins.

Mid-meal, they were joined by the guide who would escort them the rest of the way to Ziinzi Island, Jacques Bouchard. Jacques, a former trapper who’d lost an arm to a moose attack, now made his fortune transporting people and supplies across Upper Canada.

“We follow the Outaouais to Ottawa, yes?” Jacques smiled and held out his remaining hand for Crispin to shake.

“ Kitche Zibi ,” he heard Mrs. Smith whisper to Birdy, who nodded her understanding.

“Of course.” Ignoring the women for now, Crispin grasped the man’s left hand awkwardly but managed to make the gentleman’s agreement.

“ Ma chère jeune-filled, vous souvenez-vous de moi ?” Bouchard addressed Birdy.

“ Oui, ” she replied in flawless French, “ Vous êtes un ami de mon père .”

“I should hope to be your friend as well, Mademoiselle Nenokaasi.”

“Madam,” Crispin corrected. “My wife, Lady Morgan.” If Bouchard was a friend of Hardy Carmody, Crispin leaned toward trusting the man.

“Well, well,” Bouchard replied. “You’ve chosen well, monsieur.”

“Indeed, I have. How long will our journey take?”

“Depends on the weather. And the animals. And who we might run into along the way.” Bouchard smiled, revealing several missing teeth. “Be they friend, journey fast and easy. Be they foe, journey slow and more difficult.”

“Great.” He looked to Birdy, but she only shrugged her shoulders and stifled a laugh. “And when might we begin?”

“Now is not good. Tomorrow is also not good.”

“How much will it cost to make tomorrow look better?”

“Ah, no, you misunderstand. We need supplies for such a voyage. These I will get tomorrow or the day after. You are allowed 400 pounds. No more. I suggest you shop wisely. Your good wife, she will know what you need. Tonight we will eat and sleep. When we’re ready, the water will carry us like a mother possum.”

“Do you trust this frog?” Crispin whispered to Birdy as they settled into bed.

“Yes,” Birdy replied. “It was he who brought me back to my village after my time in Montreal. He knows the land and has made the journey many times. As I recall, it was a two-week journey.”

“Why aren’t we just hiring a carriage?” He asked the question he’d wanted to voice since they landed on Canadian soil.

“Some roads are little more than hunting trails. A carriage would take us days out of our way. It’s faster to travel by water, so we will do so as long as we can.”

“Bouchard mentioned supplies. Tomorrow, show me what we need and then explain why we need it.” Crispin refused to be the weak link on this journey. Bouchard and Birdy had the advantage of having traveled this way before. He had a day or two to learn as much as he could before they started their journey in earnest. He would not let Birdy down.

“Do the tribes still gather at the five corners?” Birdy asked Wasueg Smith in a mixture of Mi’kmaq and Ojibwe as she helped clear the dishes after breakfast.

“Oui. For at least another week, I should think,” the woman replied in her own mix of Mi’kmaq and French. “The maple sap has run, and the women and children have not yet left to pick berries. Trapping season was bountiful. They will have much clothing and skins to sell.”

“Will you travel with us?”

“No. Soon I will join the other women in the field, stripping birch bark and making baskets for the coming berry harvest. Bring your man,” she added. “He’s lost in his head. If you don’t teach him, he will shrink to nothing. I had to teach Joseph Smith. Now he is a human being.”

“Crispin Morgan is more than he seems. In my village, he will make me proud to be Lady Morgan. My people will sing songs of his courage,” she boasted, without knowing why. “You judge him harshly without knowing him at all.”

“I speak the truth, and you can see it. Putting a moose on a boat doesn’t make it a sailor.”

“ Gidoombiigiz ! Stop talking nonsense to me. Lord Morgan is ferocious and brave. He will not let me down.”

“Do not fool yourself,” Wasueg replied. “He can never be a human being. He will not stay here. I look into his eyes and see that his spirit is far away from here. Is the English half of you blind to such things?”

“I will not listen to your nonsense. Your hospitality is much appreciated, but your words are farts.” Reaching into her pocket, Birdy pulled out a coin and tossed it to the table. “For your trouble,” she said before walking out the door.

“Mr. Bouchard must be encouraged to leave today. We will not be spending another night with the Smiths,” she announced as she met Crispin and Luke outside.

“Problem?” Crispin arched an eyebrow as he asked.

“No problem,” she lied as she tried to form a better response. “Mrs. Smith is eager to join her people searching for birch bark and other basket-making supplies. We should go to the five corners for the rest of our supplies.”

“Four hundred pounds,” Crispin reminded her as he fell into step beside her, with Luke following a few paces behind. “What happened back there?”

“Mrs. Smith and I had a difference of opinion.” How could she tell Crispin what the other woman had said? Mrs. Smith’s words would make him doubt himself even more. Birdy swallowed hard as her stomach clenched. Wasueg was partly right. Crispin didn’t belong in this land and wouldn’t be accepted as a human being among her people, no matter how hard he tried.

He was an Englishman. In his heart, he knew they wouldn’t stay in the land of her birth. He viewed everything as a temporary hurdle to be overcome so he could return to England. You knew that when you came here ; she reminded herself. Had she somehow hoped that once he saw the abundant game and crops he’d change his mind?

Wasueg Smith planted doubt in her mind, and doubt was a poison. It darkened and spread until it clouded all vision. Birdy shook her head as if she could shake it off. Doubt would not serve them well on this journey.

“Why did you call yourself Nenokaasi yesterday?” Luke asked innocently. “Is that your red Indian name?”

“It is one of my names,” she explained, relieved to have something new to think about. “The name-giver gave me the name at my birth. It means hummingbird. My father started calling me Birdy when I was very small. So, Birdy is my English name. I have a third name, a spirit name, that my mother held for me in her heart before I was even born.”

“What’s your spirit name?”

“I can’t tell you, it’s a secret between my mother and me. She whispered it to me just before she died so that I would know the name of my spirit.”

“My mother died too,” Luke chimed in. “Do you think I had a spirit name?”

“Maybe. You already have two names. First you were Luke Johnstone, now you are Luke Who Wanders.”

“Can I have another name?” Crispin asked in a joking manner.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Birdy replied. “Your title will mean little where we’re going. You’ll likely get a nickname.”

“I want to be called Handsome Lord. Or, maybe, Brilliant Handsome Lord.”

“Nobody picks their own nickname. Nicknames, good or bad, are earned. As many people here have little concept of what an English lord is, I assure you it will not be Brilliant Handsome Lord.” Their lighthearted conversation relieved her earlier irritation, and doubt was now just a tiny speck on the horizon.

“Remind me what we’re shopping for,” Crispin asked as they made their way to the gathering place.

“Moccasins and leather stockings for you and Luke. Buckskin shirts as well. Another knife or two. Animal skin hats to keep off the rain. Wool blankets and dried meat and fruit to make the journey more comfortable.”

“Can I get a bow and arrow?” Luke asked excitedly.

“I’ll look for one we can use for small game. I will look for a war club as well, but we’ll probably have to make our own along the way.”

“War club?” Crispin stopped walking as he spoke. “We have a pistol.”

“True, but we don’t have unlimited ammunition.” Birdy kept walking, leaving Crispin to process the information. They could not afford to have him overthink the danger of their journey.

Crispin caught up quickly but didn’t speak again until the gathering place came into view. At the crossroads, there was a seemingly haphazard layout of lean-tos and racks of goods set up across the ground. Peoples of many tribes wandered about talking and laughing among themselves. A few fires heated large cooking pots, and children ran and jumped about with little care.

Homesickness swallowed her whole at the sight. Her knees weakened as the smell of familiar foods wafted by along with the sounds of her native tongue. She wasn’t home yet, but she was on her way.

“Show me what we need.” Crispin’s voice sounded as if he was a thousand miles away.