by Sara Donati
VII
“Well, some things remain constant,” remarked Julian on Christmas afternoon as he reclined full-length on the settee. “This may be the New World, but holiday afternoons are as boring here as they are in the old one.”
Curiosity and her daughters had served a midday meal which had put them all to the test, and now the Middletons and their guests were gathered around the fire. Elizabeth had taken up her reading and was relieved to see Richard Todd do the same, hoping that it would spare her the necessity of another pointed conversation with him. Mr. Witherspoon and the judge were both drifting off to sleep, but Julian and Katherine Witherspoon were clearly eager for some activity.
Elizabeth looked up from her book to her brother’s fidgeting.
“Don’t suggest a walk, sister,” Julian said, anticipating her recommendation. “My idea of entertainment doesn’t include slogging around in two feet of snow after three servings of venison.”
“Then maybe we should go down to the turkey shoot,” suggested Richard Todd. He put down his book and walked to the fireplace where he stood with his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels.
“Oh, yes, the turkey shoot!” cried Katherine. She smiled at Julian as if it had been his suggestion. “It’s a Christmas tradition, we must all go along.”
“Certainly this is a working day like any other?” asked Elizabeth.
The judge roused himself to join in the conversation, stifling a yawn. “Yes, of course. But we have a lot of Dutch and Germans here, and they have particular ideas about Christmas—”
Reverend Witherspoon cleared his throat in a disapproving way, and the judge shrugged as if to apologize for the less seemly habits of the villagers.
“The turkey shoot is a popular event. People take the time,” he concluded.
“You must have three dozen birds in your coops, Father,” said Julian. “Why would you want to go and pay for the privilege of shooting at somebody else’s turkey?”
“I wouldn’t,” affirmed the judge, settling back down into his chair. “But it is good sport. Go on now, all of you young people, and see how Paradise amuses itself. Kitty and Richard will show you the way.”
They set out in just a few minutes: Julian, Richard Todd, Katherine, and Elizabeth.
“Men come from all over to shoot,” Katherine explained to Julian and Elizabeth. “Billy Kirby organizes it.”
“At substantial profit to himself,” added Richard Todd.
Katherine overheard this comment. It struck Elizabeth once again that her indifference toward Richard Todd was too studied, and too careful, to mean anything but the opposite of what it seemed to be.
They kept up a brisk pace so as to keep the cold from making too much headway, but still Katherine would talk.
“I wonder,” she said to Julian, “if you should have brought out your gun. Should you like to try your hand at the competition?”
“I’ll leave the shooting to the locals,” said Julian shortly. Elizabeth observed him closely, but saw that he meant to say no more on this matter.
“Don’t you care for hunting?” asked Katherine.
“On the contrary,” Julian said with a smile. “But the game which interests me is a more civilized one.”
Richard Todd’s grimace was lost on Katherine and Julian, but Elizabeth noted it with dawning realization. She wondered whether Richard’s distaste was for her brother, or for Katherine’s flirtation. In either case, she found it difficult to listen any longer, and so Elizabeth stepped up her pace in hopes of outstripping the others. Soon enough she had left Julian and Katherine behind, but to her surprise Elizabeth found Richard Todd was unwilling to be shaken off.
“I think it is hard for young people who put high value on amusement and parties to live so far out,” Richard said with an awkward smile.
Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise. Richard Todd was making excuses to her for Katherine, and she could not fathom why. Unless, of course, he had some tender feelings for her himself and her behavior distressed him. Elizabeth considered for a moment.
“I suppose that is true,” she said. “It is a very small neighborhood, isn’t it, and there cannot be much variety in the entertainment. I find that less of a burden. At home I was never so interested in the dances as I was in my uncle’s library. But my cousins would not know what to do with themselves here.”
Richard nodded. “Young ladies often have expectations which cannot be met by our little circle of friends.”
“Well,” said Elizabeth, feeling a little easier toward Richard now. “Young women have the habit of growing into older ladies, and giving up dancing for whist.”
“But some young ladies seem to enjoy dancing more than others,” said Richard. “Did you enjoy the party yesterday evening?”
“Yes, it was very pleasant,” replied Elizabeth. She wondered if she dared raise the subject, and then decided that she might.
“What did you think of Chingachgook’s proposal to my father?”
Suddenly the easy feeling between them was gone, and Elizabeth thought that Dr. Todd would refuse to answer her. He cleared his throat.
“I think it will come to nothing.”
“You fear it will come to nothing,” asked Elizabeth, “or you hope it will come to nothing?”
“It is not an easy thing, what the old man asks,” said Richard, slowly searching for words. “Peaceful times are precious in this part of the world, and I would be foolish to wish them gone.”
“Why should a business transaction such as the one suggested last night mean the end of peace?” asked Elizabeth. “It seems a likely solution to the problem.”
“No one wants to sell their land to the natives,” said Richard Todd. “And the reasons for that are both so complicated and so simple that I cannot explain.”
“But the lands once belonged to them, didn’t they? Why shouldn’t they buy them back?”
“With what? With what will they buy it back? Do you really think—” Richard Todd stopped and made a visible effort to calm his voice. “Miss Elizabeth, do you believe that they have the funds necessary to buy such a valuable tract of land from your father?”
Elizabeth considered for a moment, looking over the forests under their cloak of snow. “Well, they may have at least part of what they were paid for the land in the first place. How much were they paid?”
Dr. Todd stopped, the corner of his mouth twitching. One eyebrow raised, he looked like a schoolteacher who suspected a student of posing a question constructed to show him up. “Are you really ignorant of the history of this valley?”
They had come to the top of a little rise and the village was spread out below them, the lake covered with ice reflecting silvers and blues in the sunlight. The mountains reached up like fists into the sky, their shoulders cloaked with hardwood and conifers.
“Well, I know it was once theirs,” said Elizabeth. “And that we now have it. I assume that was done lawfully, with appropriate compensation. But perhaps,” she said thoughtfully, “perhaps I assume too much.”
“You assume that they think and feel as you do,” Richard said with a new edge to his voice.
“I assume that they think and feel as any human being must, who must live and eat.”
He let out a small grunt, and Elizabeth realized that for all his careful reasoning, Richard’s stance on this matter was based on a simple dislike of the natives. Although she sensed that if she were to confront him with this, he would deny it.
The conversation had slowed them down a bit and now Julian and Katherine caught up just as they came around one last bend and found themselves confronted with Paradise’s annual turkey shoot.
Some thirty men and just as many women and children had gathered in the late afternoon. There were horses and dogs, and a great deal of talking and laughter. The women were feeding a great bonfire, most of them wrapped in a variety of shawls, with reddened noses and eyes watery with the cold.
Anna Hauptmann, directing the att
ention to the bonfire, was also engaged in a number of distinct conversations and called out cheerfully, more than willing to start another one. Her children dashed by Elizabeth in pursuit of an outsized puppy. Molly and Becca Kaes called to Katherine, and the younger girl set off in that direction on Julian’s arm. Elizabeth continued toward the shooting stand with Richard Todd, stopping to greet the villagers as she went.
The men were dressed in raggedy furs, buckskin, and homespun in shades of butternut and brown. Their heads were covered with a variety of caps and hats, some of ancient vintage, many trailing frayed tails of animals Elizabeth could not identify. Young and old, chests were crisscrossed with leather straps supporting powder horns, and small leather bags sagging with shot. Several of them turned as Richard Todd approached with Elizabeth, and they called out cheerful greetings. At the foot of the tree stump which served as the shooting stand, Elizabeth saw Dan’l and Nathaniel Bonner. Nathaniel’s long hair had been gathered together with a rawhide string and hung down his back in a thick tail. His head was uncovered and his ears were tinged red. Elizabeth realized that she was staring, and she turned away.
It’s a small village, Elizabeth said to herself sternly. You will have to learn to get along with others at close quarters. You cannot, you must not, act like a smitten schoolgirl. The sound of Katherine’s laughter rose from the crowd and Elizabeth focused on this, willing her heart to assume a more normal rhythm. Leave flirtation to Katherine, she told herself. Nathaniel Bonner will speak to you, or he won’t.
The contestants were growing restless, and in response a man pushed his way through the crowd and leapt up on top of the tree stump.
“Billy Kirby,” said Richard Todd, confirming Elizabeth’s suspicion. She observed him with some interest. He was built like an overfull barrel, with a great breadth of chest and hamlike shoulders below a thick neck. Under a tricorn hat, odd twists of blond hair stuck out at all angles and blended into what must be at least three days’ growth of reluctant blond beard. Between the bristles his skin was blotched red with cold, blemishes, scrapes. Thin lips bleached pale by the cold revealed tobacco-stained teeth. Elizabeth was surprised to see how young he was, perhaps eighteen or so.
Billy rested one foot on an empty fowl coop and surveyed the crowd. About a hundred yards farther on there was another stump, behind which a tremendously large tom turkey had been tethered by a short lead; it scratched in the snow, occasionally raising its spindly neck over the edge to observe the crowd with one bright black and mistrustful eye.
“It’s a hard target, a skittery bird behind a stump,” Richard Todd explained. “Billy will take in a nice profit.”
Elizabeth answered without taking her eyes from the scene. “I see the Bonners are here. I expect Hawkeye came by his nickname with some reason?”
The doctor nodded. “He most certainly did. Even at his age he’s a hard man to best with a long rifle. But I doubt whether he’s got a spare shilling to place the necessary wager.”
Elizabeth glanced at Richard, but his large, round face was completely serious. How could it be possible that Hawkeye and Nathaniel might not have a shilling between them? But before she could think of a way to put this question, Billy Kirby began calling out.
“Come on, then, come on, the finest bird you’ll see this winter, I will put odds on it. A shilling a go, a shilling a go. A mere eighth of a Spanish dollar—why, he would cost you ten times that, and he’ll feed the family for the week—two weeks, if your woman’s the housekeeper she should be. Who’ll be first?”
He cast his eyes over the crowd and then smiled.
“Hawkeye! Yes, the man himself, a shot like no other!”
Before Hawkeye could reply, Billy Kirby was at him again.
“But then maybe not, maybe not, you’re not the youngest anymore—” There was a good-natured laugh at this, and Hawkeye turned to the crowd, his white hair lifting in the breeze.
“Don’t doubt it,” he called. “The boy tells the truth. Once I could of took the horn button off his mangy old tricorn at a dead run, but time creeps up on all of us. Though to be honest I am tempted—”
“Well, of course you are, it’s a fine bird an’ all,” interrupted Billy.
“—by that button,” finished Hawkeye.
Billy Kirby flushed at the crowd’s laughter, and his watery blue eyes fell on Nathaniel. “Well, then, what about the son, then? What about you, Nathaniel? Got your father’s sharp eye, now don’t you, know a good thing when you see one. But then maybe you don’t want to part with the price,” he said with a nasty grin.
“He’s got a bullet hole in his shootin’ shoulder,” called someone from the crowd.
“Well, this is bad news for a gamesman like myself,” said Billy. “The two best shots in the area and neither willing to take the chance. If you won’t try this bird, who will? You really going to let a little lead in your shoulder keep you from this bird?” Billy said with a wink to the crowd.
“I’ll have a go,” called Richard Todd, moving past Elizabeth. The crowd turned to him, and Elizabeth’s eye met Nathaniel’s. He nodded at her, smiling grimly, and then turned his attention to Richard, who was reaching inside his coat for the required shilling. At length he produced a handful of coins, and with a flourish he held one up so that it flashed in the sunlight.
The crowd was moving forward, and Elizabeth found herself propelled closer to the makeshift shooting stand.
Richard checked the load and the flash pan and made himself comfortable with the target, while the crowd gave him a good deal of advice. Elizabeth turned to her neighbor, remembering him from the difficult first encounter at the trading post.
“Mr. LeBlanc,” she said. “Will you have a try at the bird?”
“Sure, Charlie will have a go, he contributes his shilling every Christmas, don’t you, Charlie?” said Hawkeye good-naturedly.
Elizabeth was a little startled to find the Bonners so near, but she managed to greet them without drawing attention to herself. She wondered if she should expect Nathaniel to speak to her, and what he might have to say. Then, irritated with herself, she turned to watch Richard Todd adjust his sights.
“Well, maybe this year I’ll have a chance,” said Charlie. “As Nathaniel’s got a sore shoulder. Although it’s a damn skinny target to put my siller on, rare as it is.”
“Waall,” drawled Hawkeye, grinning. “A hundred yards is a short distance for a long rifle, after all. We may still give you a run for your shillin’. That turkey would be welcome with all the folks we got to feed these days.”
“Is it true, then? Is Chingachgook come to stay?”
Nathaniel, who had kept his attention focused on Richard, now glanced up. “It’s true enough,” he answered for his father. “Falling-Day’s two youngest along with him.”
The crowd moved in even closer, bringing Elizabeth near enough to Nathaniel to touch him. She wondered if people were watching her, and if they were, what they might see on her face.
“Heads up! Heads up! Mr. Turkey, pay heed!” called Billy Kirby as Richard set his sights. And he let out a tremendous whoop just as the powder flashed in the pan, whether to upset the shooter’s concentration or make the turkey jump was unclear.
The cloud of smoke rose away from the shooting stand. There was a sudden quiet and then another whoop when the turkey raised his head over the stump and glared.
“What a bird!” shouted Billy. “What a bird! Sorry, Doc, he’s too fast for you. Unless you want another shot?”
But Richard Todd had opened the floodgates, and now other men crowded up to have their go, placing valuable coin in Billy Kirby’s grubby hand one by one, and one by one adding to his delight in the whole undertaking.
Elizabeth found herself surrounded now by Hawkeye, Nathaniel, Richard Todd, and Charlie LeBlanc, who seemed determined to keep her entertained throughout the process.
“Couldn’t hit Half Moon if he fell out the boat,” Hawkeye said of the skinny red-haired Cameron, who was
just about as long as his musket. He rubbed one large, flat hand over the white stubble on his face and smiled.
“Now, old Jack MacGregor,” said Hawkeye as a man about his own age came up to the shooting stand. “Jack once was a fine man with a rifle, but he’s past his prime.”
Nathaniel snorted. “He’s two years younger than you at least.”
“But he’s got old eyes,” Hawkeye replied, not put out at all. “My eyes are still good, better than most.”
“Perhaps you’ll tell me how you came to be called Hawkeye,” Elizabeth suggested. “It must be an interesting story.”
“Too bold a tale for young women of good family,” Hawkeye agreed. “But I’ll tell you anyway, lass, if you catch me in front of the fire one day and ask me nicely. Here’s what we’ll do,” he continued, grinning broadly. “If I take that bird home to roast, you’ll come up and eat it with us and listen to my stories. I could use a fresh audience. Folks around here don’t appreciate my offerings much lately.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, I’ll take you up on that,” she said. “But there won’t be any bird for you to roast if you don’t take a chance.”
“Well, me and the boy have still not come to a conclusion on how we should spend this one shilling we got between us,” he said. “Nathaniel! How’s that shoulder feel?”
Elizabeth wondered how she could offer them a shilling so that both could have a shot at the turkey, but nothing occurred to her which wouldn’t embarrass them, and so she kept still, listening instead to their banter.
The cloud of gunsmoke had grown to considerable proportions and the crowd of shooters had dwindled. Billy did his best to keep a good thing going. “Now, I know some of you out there got the price of this bird,” he called. “Step up and be counted. You, Nathaniel, you still leaning on that sore shoulder of yourn?”
There was a moment’s silence, and then Nathaniel nodded. “I’ll have a shot,” he said calmly, and moved forward to hand Billy his entrance fee.
“Four quarter bits, four quarter bits, that’s right, that’s all it takes.” Billy nodded, but his tone was much more subdued now, and it was clear that he thought the bird’s life was about to come to a quick end.