The Canadian Highland

by Ken Busato

Chapter 31

  “I’m a Highlander just like you after all. Surely it can’t hurt any of you to hear what I have to say.”

  “But aren’t you the one so dead set against us here in the first place?” Papa suspiciously asked, not allowing Duncan Cameron entrance into our soddie.

  “I know what you might think about me, but all I mean to do is talk to you. I’ve been to see a few settlers these last couple of weeks.”

  “I’ve heard,” Papa replied.

  “Then you probably have heard what I’m talking to people about.”

  “”Tell me what it is you want to say. We’ve got a lot of work to do this morning as you already well know.”

  “May I come into your house at least?” Cameron politely asked.

  “Alright then, come in and sit down at the table.”

  “Liam,” Papa ordered, “Take your brother and go outside for a while. We need to have a talk with this man and we don’t need any fooling around.”

  Nodding, Liam took Calum’s hand and led him out.

  Sitting down, Cameron took a small opportunity to view the surroundings. Papa and Mama were here, but Willie had left earlier in the morning to visit Chloe. We had just finished our breakfast and were getting ready to commence another long, hard day as settlers on the western plains.

  “How have you been getting along this second summer by the river?” Mr. Cameron asked. “It looks like you’ve got a sturdy dwelling here, strong like the folks who live inside it.”

  “Enough with the pleasant talk,” Papa coldly replied. “You’ve come here for a reason, and I don’t think that reason is to make any friends, so why don’t you get on with your business right quick.”

  “You’re a man of business Mr. Fraser,” Cameron started, “And that is something I respect in a man. Now, I know what it is people say about me: all I worry about is filling my own pockets with coin. Let me tell you right now this is nothing but a pack of lies to make me look bad.”

  “I am a military man, Mr. Fraser. I’ve fought with the British and have been in this country working for the North West Company for thirty years. I am a Captain, as you can clearly see from my uniform, and what’s more I am a Loyalist.”

  “A Loyalist?” I inquired about our guest.

  “Ah yes,” Cameron replied turning towards me. “I’ve heard about you Miss. Fraser, a strong woman wise beyond her years. A loyalist I am, having been kicked out of my own home as a young boy. My family pledged loyalty to his majesty George III, and for this we were cast from our home in New York and forced to make a new life for ourselves in the Quebec frontier, now given the name of Upper Canada.”

  “Being loyal to the king was a crime?” I asked.

  “When taxed and not given anything in return, yes, I would say loyalty to the King of England was a crime. I was luckily young enough to escape jail. Along with my mother and two sisters, we were ordered to leave and never to return. The same could not be said for my poor father. The Patriots in our town took him and threw him in jail. He could not fight back to keep what he had worked so hard for. He rotted away in a jail cell for God knows how long before death took him from this earth.”

  “You see Molly, Mr. Fraser, Mrs. Fraser, we have much in common. I know you were also kicked out of your home, the place where children were born, a place full of happy memories, and to come to what? A sod hut in the western wilderness.”

  “What happened when you were forced to leave your home in New York?” I asked, fascinated with this man’s story. A smirk started to form beneath his heavy beard.

  “That is a story of misfortune Miss Fraser. We were promised much by the British, but in return received very little from a country we did not want to break away from. How long we lived in tents by the St. Lawrence River I cannot say. Starvation was a daily companion during those cold winters when a simple broth made from the bones of a sparrow was considered a wonderful feast. When land was finally given, the plot given to my mother was small and hard to cultivate. We worked our fingers down to the bone.”

  “If the British treated you so unfairly,” Mama asked, “Then why do you wear their colours?”

  “It was not always bad. Yes, in the beginning, we were just like you, settlers in a new land trying to survive the cold winters and the mosquito infested summers. We lived close to the French, and that was not an easy thing to get used to. They have their own laws, religion, and language, and they are just born and bred different. Once there was enough English folk, they divided the land up into a French and British side, with different laws for both.”

  “When Simcoe, the Lieutenant Governor, came to Upper Canada, things started to get better for us. We moved to a much larger plot of land near the shores of Lake Ontario, and life for those who have made that land their home improves with every passing year. We are a strong lot, us Upper Canadians. Not even the most recent attempt of an American invasion could stop us from defending and dying for what we have.”

  “An American Invasion?” I exclaimed, clearly unaware of anything this man was talking about.

  “News of the world does not come to these parts,” Cameron replied. “We have fought against the Americans for the last three years, and I’m glad to say the war is over. They thought they could march into our land, but they were dead wrong.”

  “Who won?” I asked.

  “Why we won of course,” Cameron proudly replied, “Although if you ask a damn American they might say the same bloody thing. It does not really matter much now. What matters is Upper Canada is safe and secure, and it’s a place where good people like you live and prosper in.”

  Cameron reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a silver flask. It was dark in our shelter, the soddie is always dark, but the flask shone with the little rays of sunshine that sometimes found their way through the holes in the walls. Opening it, he took a long drink before handing it to my father. “You are not going to find good brandy like this anywhere around here Mr. Fraser. This stuff came to me from Montreal. You must take a drink. Please, be my guest.”

  Not nearly as suspicious as he was earlier in the conversation, Papa took the flask from Mr. Cameron and helped himself to a long drink, perhaps a little too long seeing as we had just finished our breakfast. “That’s mighty good,” Papa exclaimed, handing the flask back to Mr. Cameron who put it back into his pocket.

  “I have a case back at the fort under lock and key. Nobody gets to this stuff, and if they try they’ll get a good club to the head for their efforts. For a good Scot like you sir, I have no problems with sharing some of the good things given to me. That’s why I’m here, to offer you something truly good, a chance to live the kind of life you should be living.”

  “What can you offer me I cannot already get from MacDonell and the Baymen? They have taken care of us for the most part. We’ve had places to stay when we could not care for ourselves. And when we were near the point of starvation, MacDonell made sure we were fed by keeping food in this area.”

  “Hmmm,” Cameron gruffly replied. “And an illegal thing that was for him to do too. But enough. Mr. Fraser, this is your second summer here at Red River. Maybe you’ll do fine this season, but then again maybe you won’t. This land is no place for a man with a family. It’s rough here. It’s all wilderness. Death can come to a man at any time unless his wits are truly about him.”

  “Thank God I took my wits with me from Scotland then.”

  “Aye, thank God indeed, but don’t you think you should have more for your efforts? Here in this inhospitable land, good things come slowly, if not at all. The people who have lived here for generations do so because they are willing to move as the buffalo move, not put up stakes, build a home and hope for a good harvest.”

  “So what are you offering me?” Papa asked with impatience in his voice.

  “I’m offering a chance to move to Upper Canada, a chance to start over in a land where you’ll have a good life to rais
e your kids. It’s a place where there still is plenty of land for people who are willing to work hard. There will be two hundred acres for any family who wishes to move. The North-West Company will also pay any wages due to them by Selkirk. And finally, if most of you decide to make this one final voyage, free provisions will be provided for an entire year.”

  “I’ve heard this all before,” Papa angrily stated. “We were given free passage here. We were told things would be provided for us. We were told a new Highland could be made by the banks of the two rivers off in the distance. We were told the same thing oh so long ago in Scotland. Why the hell should I now believe you?”

  “I understand what you are saying,” Cameron sweetly replied. “Selkirk and his great plan for a colony. The man has no idea what he was doing. He thinks he is helping the poor, but all he is doing is sending good men and women to a fate almost worse than death. You’ve all suffered here because the apple you all expected to get actually ended up being a giant turd.”

  “That may be true, but we are not the kind of folks to get up and quit when things get a little rough. I know what you are proposing rings true for many people, and perhaps I might be out of my mind to refuse your offer, but I have never shied away from hard work. We may not have been given an apple like you say, but as God is my witness I will try damn hard to turn it into an apple with the strength of my arm and the sweat from my brow. It has been two summers already. What more could possibly happen to us that has not happened already?”

  “More than you might know. Your Governor stirs up trouble and hatred with his actions, and if you are not careful, you might be caught right in the middle of it all. This is something no man should desire for his family. I ask you again Mr. Fraser, take me up on this offer as some other colonists have done. Safe passage to Upper Canada is nothing you should dismiss lightly without some thought. Please, just take some time to think about it. I know you have a brother, a young hothead I am told, who is not here. Speak to him, and then come and see me with your answer.”

  “I’ve told you what I think of the matter already.”

  “Again, just think about it.” Gathering himself, Cameron got up and was about ready to leave. “Be warned, an action has been taken against your Governor MacDonell for illegally seizing our pemmican. A warrant is out for his arrest, and soon he will be in our custody and transferred to Montreal to stand trial for his crimes against the North West Company. Don’t be a fool and stay back when soon there might not be any around to protect you,” he hissed.

  Cameron’s words were menacing as he hastily went to the door. Taking a good look in my direction before he left, I could see the angry creases in his forehead. He was about to say something to me, perhaps get me to reason with Papa, then thought the better of it and made his way abruptly outside. He was simply not a man to be rejected.

  Later that day, as I quietly went about my chores, I wondered what other families decided. Cameron was not simply inviting people to leave, he was demanding it. The words rolled off his tongue with such ease. But unlike the serpent in the Garden of Eden, we didn’t take what he offered. And that’s when his calm request changed dramatically into a sinister command.

  Willie had spent a longer time than usual with Chloe during the day. It was well past dinner when he finally made it home. Coming into the shelter, he quickly made his way to the table where he promptly sat down, laying his head above his arms, keeping his face hidden.

  “Brother, are you alright?” Papa inquired. “You didn’t help out in the fields like usual. You also missed a visit from that Cameron fellow who works for the North West.”

  Willie picked up his head ever so slowly. By the light of the candle, his eyes looked puffy and a little swollen, yet whether it was from drinking or fighting I couldn’t tell. He stared at all of us coldly. “Chloe and her family,” my uncle quietly began, “They are leaving here with whoever else has decided to take up the offer.”

  “Aye,” Papa replied, “So you know about it all already. He tried hard to convince us to leave. Cameron has the smooth tongue of a snake. I distrust him, as I distrust anything said to me by either Baymen or North-Westers. Only when there is a gun pointing at me or the ones I love will I be forced to believe anything told to me.”

  “I’m with you brother, but there are many others who are not. Too many of us are simply fed up, not willing to try and finish what we have started. Chloe’s father, McCarthy, is one of them. I knew you would refuse the serpent’s temptation, but now I am torn between two decisions.”

  I quietly made my way to where my uncle sat. I gently placed my hands on his shoulders and started to squeeze ever so slightly. I knew exactly how he felt, what a difficult decision it would be to be torn between a woman to make your own and a family that has always been there through every struggle. No doubt it’s the strength of our family that makes his decision even more difficult than it should be.

  “We are going to stay, yet Chloe is going to leave for Upper Canada,” I quietly started. “I know if I were in your position, I would find the decision almost unbearable to make. You can’t quickly marry Chloe and have her stay with us Uncle?”

  “To be married is something I want, but not forced to do it because some Scot in a red coat stirs up people’s fears. Mr. McCarthy will not have his daughter stay, and I will not leave. It’s bloody simple. I’ve spent the last little while saying goodbye.”

  “Brother,” Papa interrupted, “Are you sure you are doing the right thing? We don’t want to see you leave, but we also want you to be happy, and if that means going with Chloe…”

  “As long as we are being threatened, as long as there are Frasers who are in the way of harm, I will never be happy, whether married to a nice girl or a bachelor for all of my days. No John, I have spent some time thinking about this, and although I’m pissed, I have made the right decision. In a few days, there will no doubt be many families who will pack up their belongings for another journey, another beginning. I will not be with them.”

  We all stood there for a moment in silence. Although saddened, I was relieved he would not be leaving us. There may be a time in the future when he would no longer be with us, but I can’t start worrying about what hasn’t happened. In a few days, our numbers would certainly decrease with many people leaving for Upper Canada. Who knows what other plans Duncan Cameron might have to rid this land of Selkirk’s Settlers. Somehow I doubt he will extend any invitations to us for a second time.