The two women walked along, both lost in thought. At last Sarita broke the silence with a long sigh. “I know it hasn’t been easy for you here. I hope Feast Giver hasn’t made things difficult.” She waited.
Precious Copper glanced at Sarita out of the corner of her eye, then replied lightly, “Your brother has made my stay most, uh, intriguing.” Her dimples showed as she smiled at Sarita. “Really he has. He’s behaved very well.”
There was no doubting the sincerity in Precious Copper’s voice. “I’m relieved,” answered Sarita. “I truly want you to enjoy your stay here. I don’t know what my brother has planned for you, but if I can help you at all, I will. I’ll never forget the kindness you showed when I was a captive in your village. If I can ever repay you, I will.”
Precious Copper reached over and patted Sarita’s hand. “Thank you for your concern. I did my best to help you when you were in my village because, well, because I felt my brother was wrong to steal you. And at first he treated you badly, but later he changed.” She looked off into the distance. “You know, Sarita, I’ll also help you if it’s ever in my power to do so.”
Sarita squeezed the hand holding hers, then let it drop. “If only you could,” she sighed ruefully.
“What do you mean?”
Sarita was silent as she came to a decision. “Precious Copper,” she began, “I’m carrying Fighting Wolf’s child.” Sarita heard her companion’s quick intake of breath.
“Oh, Sarita! What are you going to do?”
The other woman’s concern touched a responsive chord in Sarita. With little encouragement, she poured out the sad story of her father’s reaction to her captivity, slavery and pregnancy; and her own determination to have her baby. Precious Copper listened carefully, nodding her head occasionally, but never interfering with Sarita’s monologue.
At last, she finished her tale and there was a long silence while the two women reflected on her dilemma. “I don’t really know what I’ll do,” mused Sarita. “But I refuse to take the herbs Abalone Woman keeps offering me.”
Sarita looked up in time to see Precious Copper give a start as she stared off into the distance. Sarita followed her gaze. “What are you staring at?” she demanded.
“Hmm?” Preoccupied, Precious Copper was silent a moment as she watched a canoe pull into shore. Even at this distance, two figures could be discerned in the small craft with distinctive markings.
“Oh, it’s—it’s nothing.” She turned swiftly to Sarita and smiled her dimples deep in her cheeks.
“It’s only a couple of visitors,” said Sarita petulantly.
“Forgive me,” implored Precious Copper. “I didn’t mean to be distracted from your troubles.”
“It’s all right, I was finished anyway.” Sarita sighed. “Let’s head back and finish the packing. We have to be ready for the big move within the next few days.”
Precious Copper assented, somewhat too eagerly, in Sarita’s opinion. She felt chagrined that Precious Copper could dismiss her serious troubles so lightly. The two turned their steps to where the freight canoe lay on the beach.
They strolled past the visitors who were just pulling their canoe ashore. Sarita inspected them casually. The two men, one young and husky, the other older and wizened, carried the canoe farther up the beach. The men glanced briefly in the direction of the two women.
“Strangers,” commented Sarita. “I wonder what business they have at our village.”
Sarita thought Precious Copper stiffened. The next moment she was sure she was mistaken as Precious Copper said enthusiastically, “Let’s get that packing finished!” The two women quickened their pace, neither glancing again at the newcomers.
The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as the two women loaded another large canoe. “We’ll be ready tomorrow at this rate,” said Sarita happily. Perhaps a change of scene would do her good. This village held too many unhappy memories for her.
“What?” answered Precious Copper. “Oh, yes. Yes, we should be ready by tomorrow.”
Sarita looked at her friend for a moment. “Where are you, Precious Copper?” she asked softly. “You’ve been preoccupied all afternoon.”
But her friend gave no sign that she had heard. A glimmer of uneasiness registered in Sarita’s mind, but she shrugged it off.
* * * *
The night was dark and eerie. A mere sliver of moon lit the sky. Clouds drifted past, frequently obscuring the weak light shed on the village that nestled far below. The black, shadowed hulks of packed freight canoes lay on the beach fronting the village.
Emerging from one of the longhouses, the dark shape of a small, graceful woman flitted through the night until she reached her destination: a disreputable dwelling at the far end of the village.
Quietly pushing aside the skin flap over the main entrance, she peeked inside. All was silent. A dying fire slowed in the center of the main living area. A loud pop from the embers startled her, but she relaxed when no one stirred.
Over to one side of the fire she spotted the man she was seeking. Creeping carefully towards him, past snoring lumps stretched out side by side, she hissed hastily into his ear, “Uncle, uncle!” The figure stirred, moaned. “Shhhh,” she cautioned. When all was still again, she shook the figure slightly, “Uncle, uncle, wake up. Please!”
The urgency in her voice roused the rounded form. He sat up and looked cautiously about. The woman laid her finger across his lips, indicating silence, then gestured for him to follow her outside the longhouse. Silently unwrapping himself from the cedar mats, the older man got up slowly and together they silently slipped out into the night.
The woman exhaled in relief as she maneuvered the man towards a protected stand of trees. “Here we can talk in privacy, uncle,” she assured him. They sat down on a wet log.
“What is it, niece?” asked the older man politely. He was not, in reality, Precious Copper’s uncle, but a distant relative the same age as her father. She was entitled to call him uncle if she wished and because she held the higher status— he was a commoner—he was pleased to go along with the closer kinship term. “I thought I recognized you earlier this afternoon, niece.”
“Oh, uncle,” she whispered, “It’s such a long story. I can’t tell you all of it now. I don’t have much time.” She hesitated. “I need your help.”
“You have it,” he responded loyally.
She hugged him. “Before I tell you, I’m curious to know why you’re here, in this Hesquiat village.”
He shrugged. “My eldest son and I are heading back to Ahousat. We were trading at Yuquot. Some nice things there. We stopped off here to visit some of my wife’s relatives.”
“Don’t your wife’s relatives know about the fighting between the Hesquiats and our people?” inquired Precious Copper apprehensively.
Again the older man shrugged. “They know, but we’re related. That’s important to my wife’s family. They won’t betray their own kin.”
Precious Copper smiled. There were many such interrelated families up and down the coast. In fact, she knew Fighting Wolf often relied on this informal network of kin to warn him of impending raids on the Ahousats. “Tell my brother, Fighting Wolf, that I’m safe here in the Hesquiat village.”
“Safe?”
She nodded. “Feast Giver, the chief’s son, brought me here. You see, he—he rescued me from a party of raiding Kwakiutls.” Even now, memories of that horrible time scared Precious Copper when she realized how close to violation and death she had come.
“Your brother, and your uncle, Scarred Mouth, aren’t going to like you staying here,” warned the older man.
“I know. But surely they’ll realize I had no choice.”
“Ah,” he answered, “so it’s not quite as safe as you would have me believe.”
She looked into his wise old eyes, then nodded slowly.
“Come with us when we leave tomorrow,” urged the old man.
Precious Copper shook her head. “I can’
t. I’d only endanger you.” It was true, she realized. Feast Giver would probably come after her and he would be angry. She couldn’t risk this kindly old man’s life, or his son’s.
“Very well,” responded the ‘uncle’ crisply. “I’ll give your brother the message.” He stood up to leave.
Precious Copper pulled at his arm to hold him back. “And tell Fighting Wolf that Sarita—he’ll know who I mean—has returned safely to this village and is now pregnant.” The old man dutifully repeated this message to memorize it.
“Thank you,” whispered Precious Copper. “And please, please get this message to my brother as soon as you can. It’s urgent.”
The old man nodded. “We were headed towards Ahousat, anyway. My son—he’s very strong—and I will paddle straight through. Never fear. Fighting Wolf will get this message.”
Precious Copper was reassured by the quiet confidence in his voice. She exclaimed, “You’ll be well rewarded for this, I promise you.” She paused, remembering one other important item. “Oh, and tell him that this Hesquiat village will be moving up the nearby inlet to their traditional winter village within the next few days. Here,” she said hastily, taking a delicately carved wooden bangle from her wrist. “Show this to my family. They will know you speak the truth.”
He nodded as he tied the bangle on a thong at his waist. “I’d better hurry back to my sleeping place by the fire. No one knows I’m gone. I’d like to keep it that way,” he said.
Precious Copper agreed, and they parted quietly in the still night. As she walked through the silent village, she wondered if Sarita would think she had betrayed her confidence. Well, it couldn’t be helped. She, Precious Copper, couldn’t let her family worry about her own whereabouts any longer. Also, she knew Fighting Wolf would be very interested in the news about Sarita—and his child.
Chapter Thirty
Sarita walked along the shaded path towards the river. Ah, it was good to get away from the bustle and noise of last-minute packing in the village. All that remained to be done was removing the long cedar planks from the sides of the longhouses. The men would do that. As for herself, she would have a very brief, but very refreshing bath. Carrying a soft cedar blanket to towel herself dry, she hummed happily as she strolled.
It was one of the occasional sunny days of autumn, and Sarita meant to make the most of it. She was pleased she had evaded her usual retinue of ladies. Somehow she just could not tolerate their prattle today. She wanted solitude.
As she walked along, she noticed the usual sounds of the woods—the birds chirping, the squirrels chattering—were absent today.
At last she reached the woman’s bathing area, and was pleased to find it deserted. Dropping her robe to her feet, she waded into the slowly flowing current. She ducked under the water and jumped up with a scream. It was cold! Laughing to herself, she splashed the freezing water over her skin. She fell on her back in the frigid liquid and scrubbed her scalp with a handful of herbs; the fresh, clean scent would linger in her hair.
Shivering now, she hastened to complete her toilette. Once she had toweled herself dry, she slipped on her kutsack. Her skin tingled all over from the cold water and she felt so alive. She wondered idly if the baby inside her could feel the cold water, too. Gathering up her things, she turned back to the trail.
She halted abruptly. There, leaning against a tree, his arms folded across his thin chest, stood the Kyuquot chief, Throws Away Wealth. On either side of him stood two big henchmen. Fear coursed through her when she realized how isolated the place was, but she refused to let the men see that.
“How long have you been standing there?” she demanded in her haughtiest chief’s daughter’s voice. “What do you want?”
Throws Away Wealth leered at her. She counted three teeth missing in his wide grin. He looked her up and down and made a comment under his breath to his men. Their course laughter drifted through the stillness.
“My father will punish you for this. Now, leave!”
They continued to watch her. “Insolent Kyuquot dogs,” she spat. “Leave, or my father will have you killed!”
The men laughed outright at her statement. “I think not,” said Throws Away Wealth in a nasal voice. Sarita waited. “You see,” he continued, “your father has arranged for you to marry me.” He watched her face for her reaction, his small eyes intent. He was not disappointed.
“What?” she shrieked. “My father what?” Regaining herself with visible effort, she said quickly, “You are wrong. I know nothing of this. And even if my father did promise such a thing, I will not be party to it!”
Throws Away Wealth shrugged and sauntered up to her. She refused to back away. She would not show this Kyuquot any fear. He halted in front of her and stared. When he spoke, the smell of hot fish breath hit her full in the face. She blinked, then glared at him.
Unimpressed, he said, “What you want matters little. You will be my wife, my second wife,” he boasted with satisfaction. “I’m an important chief. I shall have many wives.”
He reached out a hand to grasp her shoulder. She shrugged away. “You’re too sure of yourself, Kyuquot. I tell you I refuse to marry you! I’ll speak to my father and—“
“Don’t bother,” he said laconically, his hand dropping to his side. “Your father needs an alliance with us. He begged me to marry you. Though I must say I’m surprised you aren’t already spoken for—“ His voice trailed off. “Of course that visit to Ahousat did decrease your marriage value somewhat, didn’t it? Maybe your father didn’t have quite so many suitors for your hand after that nasty little incident, eh?” he sneered.
His eyes dropped to her stomach. “And I wonder—“ He raised his small eyes to hers.
Sarita stared back, unable to look away from his malevolent gaze.
“I wonder if there is a little one on the way,” he said, poking her in the stomach. “If there is, I’ll take care of it.” His smile didn’t reach his cold, small eyes. “I’ll make sure it meets with an accident.”
She gasped and grabbed her stomach. From the tone of his voice he might have been discussing whether or not to toss a small salmon back to sea. No, he’d show more interest in a salmon, she corrected herself.
Throws Away Wealth tipped her chin up, his eyes roaming her face. “Hmmm,” he murmured, noting her protective gesture. “So. I was right. Well, never mind, I’m sure we can entertain each other in the meantime.” He chuckled and another whiff of fish breath caused Sarita to choke back a gag.
She pushed his hand away and retorted, “I will not marry you.” Then she marched away, her head high.
Surprisingly, the two henchmen parted to let her pass on the trail. She walked calmly until a bend in the path blocked their view, then she ran as fast as she could back to the village. Her feet flew along the path.
Nuwiksu had interfered in her life for the last time. She would find him and tell him so.
* * * *
As Sarita approached the village, she slowed her pace. Her father would consider it disrespectful if she ran to him with her hair hanging in wet strings. Drying it near a hot fire would give her time to plan what to say, she decided.
She wandered over to what was left of her father’s longhouse. Already men had pulled down several of the planks at the far end. Several other longhouses showed similar dismantling. Women scurried about, gathering up children and clothes. They grabbed household items, stuffing them into baskets and bent cedar boxes. She suddenly realized her village would be moving that very afternoon.
Quickly, she toweled her hair dry. There was little time to speak with her father, but she wanted things settled between them as soon as possible. Then he could tell Throws Away Wealth the marriage was off, and she could make her own plans for the coming child.
Hearing her father’s booming voice, she followed the sound out the door and to the back of the longhouse. He was busy directing several of the commoners and slaves as they tore apart the house. Soon nothing would be left but the b
ig corner posts and ridge poles on the roof.
“Over there,” Thunder Maker shouted to one of the men. “Move those planks to that pile!” He turned as Sarita approached and wiped his sweating brow.
“Nuwiksu,” she began, “I wish—“
“Not now, Sarita,” he said impatiently. “I’m busy.” He swung around to shout another order. “You! Take those boards and load them into Vast Capacity.” Vast Capacity was the name of one of his large freight canoes. A slave nodded and went obediently about the work.
Sarita was feeling far from obedient. “Nuwiksu,” she began again. “I must speak with you.”
“Move, girl! Can’t you see those planks coming this way? Now’s not the time for talking. Later.” With a gesture, he dismissed her and barked further orders at two slaves who were busy loading Vast Capacity.
Humiliated, she stepped quickly to one side. The men ignored her. She realized she could not speak with her father while he was taking down the longhouses. Agitated, she walked over to where several women were diligently packing a canoe. She watched them until her anger and embarrassment had passed.
Well, there was no help for it. She’d have to wait until later, when things were calmer, and speak with her father then. He might think he could put her off easily, but she would not give in on this issue. She would not marry Throws Away Wealth. Of that she was certain.
* * * *
Early the next morning, the orders came to move out. Slowly the people filed into their canoes.
Soon the bay’s smooth surface was covered with various sized craft. Slaves paddled the freight canoes, some piled high with cedar planks, others with bulky bundles, moving the heavier household possessions.
Sleek, racy, canoes used to hunt for seals slid past. Shiny and black, these canoes were highly prized by their owners. Never were such canoes dragged across the beach; they were always carried.
Many small two-seater canoes paddled by one or two persons and filled with precious household possessions followed after the freight canoes. Lastly, dotting the bay came the small, rough craft, only big enough for a child, and a basket of dried fish or clams.
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