The Canadian Highland

by Ken Busato

As I have spent time here at Pembina, I have taken Mama’s words to heart, although sometimes I think I’m being selfish doing so. Two young women close to my age are here, and I have tried to make their acquaintance. We sometimes share words with each other, but memories of how Scottish and Irish treat each other back home linger under the surface of our conversations. Still it does not stop me from trying.

  “Pemmican is the sweetest food imaginable compared to what we had to suffer with up at York Factory last winter,” I started one morning, trying my best to at least be friendly with Chloe McCarthy and Rachel O’Connor, two new Selkirk settlers, as we sat together by one of the many fires sewing and mending garments for winter wear.

  “You’re clearly not thinking straight,” Chloe replied, confused by such a strange thing to say. “Pemmican is tough and tasteless. My father tells me the only way to make it bearable is to wash it down with a whiskey chaser.”

  “I’ve been told the same,” Rachel chimed in. “Two days ago I saw your Uncle Willie staggering about camp, bottle in one hand and piece of pemmican in the other. He looked like he had the devil in his eyes, and it took everything in my power to look away and not draw his attention to me. Clearly, he knows how to get rid of the taste quickly.” Locking eyes with her friend, both girls started to giggle at the joke.

  “I would not be worried about drawing Willie’s attention towards you,” I coolly replied, upset these girls have already seen that side of my uncle. “Willie has had a difficult time here. Like you, he was forced from his home, but instead of just resigning himself to the fact he has to start over, he carries the anger with him, always bubbling close to the surface. He might not always make the best choices, but you always know where you stand with him.”

  Rachel and Chloe could sense I was getting angry, so they quickly changed the subject.

  “What was it they forced you to drink last winter Molly?” Chloe inquired. “It was something so bad it makes pemmican actually taste sweet?”

  “I hope we do not have to go down that road again,” I depressingly began. “Hopefully the buffalo meat is enough to keep the scurvy away. If it isn’t, you’ll soon see the black tea they make in this country.”

  “There certainly is enough buffalo meat here,” Rachel observed. The Governor made sure to fill that entire storehouse so we would be prepared for this winter.”

  “I know,” I replied, “MacDonell goes out of his way to ensure we are provided for. But remember ladies, if it’s a choice between MacDonell and the Canadian winter, I would place my bets on the land over a man.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” Chloe asked.

  “A man may have the best of intentions, but if that man resides in hell, those intentions do not amount to a damn thing.” I could see the shocked expressions on both girls’ faces, but I simply had to continue. “The buffalo come here, and it’s an important source of food, but it may not be enough. You may need to be introduced to a healthy glass of spruce beer, a drink so foul, and yet so healthy, I am not sure whether to condemn its taste or praise its medicinal qualities. Understand ladies, you have been through tough times, an ocean crossing and difficult journey down river, but the “desperate” times are just beginning. You can choose to trust the actions of the man who has been sent to lead us, or you can see the actions of my uncle for what they are: the life of a Selkirk colonist, whose body is in one land save his heart which still belongs to another.”

  A silence fell over all three of us. The quiet was awkward as I remembered the words of my mother: don’t get too close. Chloe McCarthy tried to break the silence.

  “Perhaps all your uncle needs is the comfort a good woman can provide.” I lifted my head up from my sewing. I was surprised by her honesty, yet all I could think about was how much I missed George. “He seems so sad walking around the camp. I know he mostly keeps to himself and some of the other Scottish that came here with you Molly, and I’ve often wondered if the reason why he is so angry is he does not have the good sense of a woman to help calm him down.”

  “These are things you think about?” I bluntly asked, my cheeks beginning to flush.

  “No Molly, not all the time.” It was now Chloe’s turn to start turning red. “Rachel and I talk about the men we have seen here, about the men we accompanied across the ocean. We know there are not many young girls in the area, especially good Irish girls, and Scottish too. Well…” she clearly started to stammer trying to figure out what she was going to say. “Men need the company of women, and although young, a woman must sometimes think about her future, about a man she could marry.”

  “Go on.”

  “Your uncle does have the devil in him, but that anger makes him handsome. He is so intense, even though I know enough to look away, sometimes I just can’t.”

  And there we have it, I thought to myself! It had been such a long time when I simply talked with girls my own age. I knew I was older than my years seemed, and now I remembered the silliness and peculiar notions some young girls liked to fill their heads with. I wanted to be angry, but I knew I couldn’t.

  “So you fancy my uncle then?”

  “He stands out above the rest,” Chloe whispered, uncertain about how much of her heart she wanted to give up. “I don’t think he has even noticed me, or talked about me for that matter, but there is something about him, the ruggedness of his appearance, the defiance in his walk, the sadness in his eyes, that I find myself thinking about often.”

  “Would you like me to make some inquiries on your behalf?” I offered, not sure if I should get in the middle of something like this.

  “Oh Molly, could you please? My mother would be outraged if she knew I was talking to you like this. She thinks it best that we keep to our own in this place.”

  I could not help but smile: Chloe’s mother and my own had the same opinion.

  “Perhaps you could put in a kind word to your uncle when he is not so hostile, when he is calm and willing to listen?”

  “I’ll certainly see what I can do,” I said to Chloe, again thinking about how much I missed George. “I cannot say for sure what he will do, but he most certainly will be flattered by the attention. Back home, he knew how to charm the young ladies of Argyll. But this place has changed him too much.”

  “Thank you Molly,” Chloe said. “My ma has always said a woman can anchor a man, keep him from drifting too far out to sea. Maybe all your uncle needs is someone to keep him still, keep him from moving as his moods swing.”

  “Your ma is a pretty wise woman,” I replied. “It’s difficult to keep a man anchored when he is constantly on the move and not in charge of where he can go. I don’t know what will happen to my uncle, but I hope a small home, a piece of land to farm, can go a long way to bringing him back to the man I knew as a young girl.”

  “All I want, all my parents want, is an ordinary life. My mother talks about it so often she can think of nothing else. So much of who we are was taken away from us back home in Ireland. My proud father reduced to ruins at the hands of men and business he could not defend against. Oh Molly, we wandered the streets often, reduced to begging and the little that could be provided by the church and people of generous heart. My parents look to Selkirk as our saviour, but I hope to be saved by more than just him.”

  I started to realize this girl, around my age, was also far more mature than her years let on. Perhaps it has to do with how fast we all have had to grow up. When a life is not lived ordinary, a large amount of experience can be added on in short order. There were some years between my uncle and her, but Chloe is of a sound mind, and if anyone could break the hardness of his heart, perhaps it’s this young girl from the streets of Dublin.