The Canadian Highland

by Ken Busato

We made quite a spectacle as our caravan pulled out towards Pembina. Our leader, our Moses in the wilderness, did not accompany us as we assembled to leave. The few Indians who acted as guides quietly rode on horses as we trudged along through fields of windswept grass. Most people kept to themselves on that first day, lost in thoughts both dark and dreary. Only the boys could find any sport in what we were doing, and their games made our guides quietly smile and laugh. Calum, although a toddler, has started to move quickly, chasing after Liam and Angus at every turn.

  The Natives, though nice enough, keep to themselves, only turning slightly to stare at each other, then stare at us, and laugh. If they talk to us, it has to do with something they want. I was warned not to give them anything I held dear to my heart, since the natives have a loose association with items they possess. One of the Irish had a beautiful knife a Saulteaux wanted to see, and when it was given for a closer examination, the knife was put in the native’s belt with not a thought for the owner. Eventually, it was given back to its rightful owner, but not after many objections and a final threat of violence.

  On the second day of our journey my uncle finally had enough. He gets angry so fast, and it was only a matter of time before he would blow.

  “What are you looking at?” he yelled at one of the natives who had his eye fixed on my mother. The native looked at him, smiled and laughed, and all this did was make Willie angrier. He made his way beside this native, grabbed the reigns of the horse to stop its movements, and continued to ask his questions.

  “I know we don’t understand each other, but you’re looking at my sister-in-law too much,” he pointed in Mama’s direction, “And I want to know why?”

  The native gestured towards one of his fingers, and then pointed towards Mama. He was interested in the ring on her finger, and he wanted a closer look at it.

  “He’s interested in her wedding band Willie,” I said as I cautiously approached.

  “Aye,” Willie replied as he held up his hand to stop me from coming any closer. “Too often these natives ask to see things they have no business seeing.”

  Turning his attention back to the native on horseback, Willie pushed things further. Pointing to his own finger, he continued to make fun. “So I see it’s the ring on her finger you want to look at.” The Indian continued to nod and smile as some of his companions, recognizing possible trouble, started to approach. “I don’t wear a ring, but if you give me a chance, I’ll let you have a closer look at my hand.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Willie grabbed the man to pull him off his mount. The native kept his wits and his balance: he would not be pulled off his horse except through an extreme feat of strength. As the two men started to tussle, others came close, but no one tried to break it up. This was a diversion everyone needed on this dreary march.

  The fight started to unsettle the native’s horse. Yet with his feet held firmly within the stirrups, there was no possible way Willie could unseat his opponent. The horse and the two men started moving around in tight circles. At times, the horse moved so fast it lifted Willie’s legs from the ground, yet for all that force he would not let go. Things started to look grim, yet there was still not one person that either came to his aid or helped in the attack. The native started to pummel my uncle’s head, with loud cries and laughter lifting up to the sky as he did so. Just when it looked like Willie would be beaten into submission, a gunshot made the horse jump up on its hind legs, knocking my uncle to the ground and throwing the native from his ride.

  “Stop this at once!” It was the familiar voice of Dr. Edwards who was running from the front of our caravan. “Get off your ass William. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “My brother was defending my wife,” Papa said, moving towards Willie to finally offer him some assistance. As he pulled him up off the ground, a native walking slowly towards us who I had not seen before. He had a very large head dress with feathers, and he appeared important. Pointing at some of the natives present, this man made it clear he was in charge and not impressed.

  Standing up, my uncle still had his fists clenched, ready to take on anyone who dared to get in his way. “These bloody Indians take from us and then laugh in our face Edwards. What do you expect me to do when one of them eyes my sister’s jewellery like it’s something they already own?”

  “You get yourself under control William, or you’ll be the ruin of us all. These natives do not have to take us anywhere, and yet here we are, at their mercy in our land which is really their land. And what do you do? You bring your ideas, your opinions, your anger to a people you know very little about. We’re spending the winter, and we are going to survive not because you are a good fighter. We’re going to survive because of the man who will help us and teach us to live here. None of you have met Peguis yet, but he is the leader of these people, the Saulteaux, and it is his responsibility to see that we make it through another winter so we can finally claim what is rightfully ours. Get your head out of your ass and understand the bigger picture.”

  “I understand the bigger picture all too well Doctor,” my uncle responded. “Do you know what that picture looks like? No! You’ve been a traveller before, and strange lands, strange foods, and strange ways do not seem to concern you. Well, I know we have to follow these folks, but I damn well don’t have to like it. I’m a mad Scot in a foreign land; I’m a Fraser from the Highlands across the great ocean. I will not be defeated, nor will I let any man take from my family.”

  “Willie,” Papa placed his hand on my uncle’s shoulder. “Calm yourself.”

  “Take your bloody hand off me John,” Willie yelled as he pushed Papa aside. “You are too quiet for your own good. You are the head of this family, but you don’t have the anger for the job.”

  “Will,” Mama finally had enough and stepped in between the two brothers. “Look at me Will,” she softly spoke as she got close to him. “Poor Will. You should be married with children running through your legs. Like us, you should be back home, working on the farm and making a name for yourself in Argyll. Willie, there are some things you have to let go. You don’t have to like these natives who are taking us in, but you do have to respect them. What else can we do brother?”

  “We can be proud…”

  “We are proud. Don’t you ever think differently.” Mama held Willie by the shoulders and gave him a hug; the kind of embrace a mother gives a child to soothe them. Pulling back, she pushed the hair out of his eyes. His right eye was bruised and swollen. Rubbing his cheek, she looked at him with a mix of respect and pity. “Walk ahead of us to clear your head. I love you so much, and I don’t want your anger to consume you.” Nodding, Willie turned around and started to walk towards the front of the caravan.

  Sighing in relief, Dr. Edwards followed behind Willie to take his place in our parade of suffering. The native who was thrown from his horse was helped back on to his mount, while Peguis simply stood and stared at my mother. After a few moments he approached Mama, and gave her a feather that he pulled from his head dress. Surprised by the gift, Mama took the feather from his hand and gave him a small bow in thanks. Grunting his approval, Peguis turned around and quickly left from where he came.

  “Why do you think he gave you that?” I asked

  “I don’t know Molly, but I think we will do well by him. He seems to be a native worthy of respect, and he will not take too kindly to men upsetting the order of things. For God’s sake, why does your uncle always have to be such a hot head? Being a Fraser is never boring.”

  I laughed as we once again started the slow march towards Pembina. I let my hands fall to the side to feel the blades of long grass as they gently swayed in rhythm with the wind. With so many miles still to cover, I closed my eyes and tried to remember the greatness of my home, the softness of my bed in our croft.

  “What are you thinking about?” Mama asked.

  “I miss Scotland, yet much of this land re
minds me of home, and a home is what I will turn it into.”

  “Wise words for a girl beyond your years,” Mama whispered as she grabbed my hand to walk beside me for a while.