‘Wait!’ I whispered.
But now the other one, stouter and less arresting, was also wading out of the water, looking over her shoulder, and vanishing into cover.
Aurora’s look over her shoulder was mocking. ‘So you like red meat.’
‘I’m not getting any white, am I?’
‘Partnership, Mr Gage, partnership.’
‘I’m just curious, like any man.’
‘I’ll bet you are, American. Stay away from them, if you value your life.’
‘What does that mean?’ It pleased me that she even bothered to warn me off.
‘Come to camp. You’ll see.’
We broke out of the last trees to the bright light of the lake shore. The large Indian canoe was drawn up, its warrior occupants making a fire separate from that of the voyageurs. There were six braves, shirtless in the sun and wearing breechclouts and buckskin leggings. They squatted like grasshoppers, easy but powerful. Their muscles gleamed from grease applied to ward off blackflies.
The man I’d assumed was a British officer was also an Indian, I realised. His black hair was pulled back and adorned with an eagle feather. Unlike his companions he wore a faded British military coat, the brass of its buttons worn but shiny. I wondered where he’d got it.
This chief, if that’s what he was, was conferring with Lord Somerset, and his regal bearing was a match for the aristocrat, reminding me again of Brant and Tecumseh. Unconquered tribal leaders had poise and panache, it seemed. His eyes were dark, nose strong, and lips set in a curl of slight cruelty. His muscles that I could see were as taut as the banded strands of a warship’s hawser. His gaze flashed with recognition when he saw Aurora and, disturbingly, the same look of recognition stayed when his gaze turned to me. Had he been at one of the forts? Surely I’d recall him.
‘The goddess Diana returns with her kill!’ Cecil called in greeting, smiling.
‘The deer is not all we found,’ she said.
‘Oh.’
‘Squaws washing in a pond. Red Jacket’s?’
‘Slaves. An Ojibway gambled them away. Red Jacket is taking them to Grand Portage and then to his village.’
‘Ethan was transfixed.’
‘I shouldn’t blame him. The one’s a beauty.’
‘Pah.’
‘Ethan, my cousin has made you a bloody packhorse, it seems!’
‘She has the rifle,’ I tried to joke. In truth, I was embarrassed. My determination to bed her had allowed Aurora Somerset to lead me by the nose like a bull, but now there were these other women. Hadn’t Pierre said to take a squaw?
‘Well, you’ll be newly popular,’ Cecil said. ‘All the men like fresh venison.’
‘Including your new guests?’
‘This is Red Jacket, a chief from the western end of the lake who is Ojibway on his mother’s side but Dakota on his father’s – the product of two historic enemies, and thus most unusual. His mother was captured and brought him up knowing both tongues. He travels widely and fights well. I was hoping to meet up with him, but with the storm, I wasn’t sure. He knows the west – knows the country you’re headed for, perhaps. He can serve us both! They took refuge on an island west of here and then paddled down this morning looking for us.’
‘Greetings,’ I said, holding out a hand.
The chief said and did nothing in reply.
‘He wears an officer’s coat?’
‘Yes, striking, isn’t it? Probably best not to ask him how he got it. I don’t think it was a present, and I hope it never wears out so he begins eyeing my clothes.’
‘But you trust him?’
‘Implicitly. Red Jacket makes no secret of where he stands, or what he wants. His appetites are plain.’
Including venison. The meat restored us, and we spent the rest of the day at what we called Refuge Bay, bathing, stitching, patching, and eating. Aurora returned my rifle, complimenting it if not me, and she’d cleaned it, too. The two women I’d seen appeared dressed modestly in buckskin, their eyes downcast and their manner obedient. If they were embarrassed at being seen at their bath, they didn’t show it.
Pierre came over. ‘The pretty one is named Namida, or ‘Star Dancer’ in the Ojibway tongue,’ he whispered quietly, squatting while he smoked his pipe. ‘It’s a name given by her original captor. The other is Little Frog. They were taken by these scoundrels after gambling at the Sault. There was a whiskey fight, and Red Jacket here delivered the coup de grace to her first owner with a tomahawk. They’ll be taken to his band to be slaves until some buck asks for one of them. The tribes are always looking to replenish their depleted numbers. Too much war and disease.’
I studied the pair with interest, willing them to look up. Namida finally glanced my way as she stooped to do camp chores, and I more than glanced back. She was a woman of about twenty with hair as lustrous as an otter pelt, and she carried herself with grace. She was light for her race, but had the high cheekbones and generous mouth of the tribes, her smile a piercing white, her throat decorated with a porcupine bead choker, a silver coin on one ear. Her arms were bare and smooth, her calves taut, and her figure – well, I’d already seen that. She was as different from Aurora Somerset as a wild pony from a racetrack thoroughbred, but had fire of her own, I guessed. I knew it was partly my longing for my lost Egyptian woman, Astiza, who had a little of the same look, but my God, how lightly her moccasins moved, how bewitchingly her hips swayed, how innocent her averted gaze! She was nothing like the tired native women I’d seen in Detroit. And then she looked at me fully …
‘I thought you didn’t like squaws, my friend?’ Pierre said as my head followed her through the encampment as if on a swivel.
‘She has blue eyes.’
‘Aye, Mandan by the story I heard – or rather their relatives, the Awaxawi – captured as a girl and traded back and forth until she wound up on the Sault. She’s hundreds of miles from her homeland, and probably sees Red Jacket as an opportunity to get a little closer to home. Odd-looking for an Indian, isn’t she?’
‘That’s not an adequate word for such beauty.’ Mandan! Hadn’t mad Tom Jefferson suggested they might be descended from the Norse or Welsh?
‘I thought you were besotted with Aurora,’ Magnus put in. I ignored him.
Aurora was watching our tableau from a distance, disapproving, and I enjoyed paying her back some discomfort. If I could provoke enough jealousy of Namida, maybe the British tease would be more willing to renew our intimacy. I was considering just how to organise my campaign when my gaze was noticed by Red Jacket and he snapped something to Cecil.
The Englishman came over to speak. Aurora was also watching, her look towards the girl malicious.
‘The squaw looks different than her race, doesn’t she?’ Cecil said.
‘I didn’t know Indians had that colouring.’
‘I’ve heard of it and seen it. Welsh, some say. Some Indian words sound Welsh.’
‘Or Norwegian,’ Magnus said.
The aristocrat’s brows rose. ‘Do you think so? Imagine if your distant ancestors came this way! I think I’m beginning to understand your enthusiasm, Magnus. Although if it were the Welsh that settled Namida’s country … well, that would make Louisiana British territory by first right, wouldn’t it?’
‘Or so confuse history that none would have rightful claim at all,’ I said.
‘Stay away from those squaws,’ Cecil warned. ‘I’ve heard the Mandan maidens are positively ethereal in their beauty, the most attractive women on the continent – but this pair is Red Jacket’s property. He has a temper. He might have eaten the liver of the man who wore that coat.’
‘He’s a cannibal?’
‘They all are, when they want to destroy their enemies and imbibe their strength. I’ve seen Indian braves devour hearts and their squaws fry the liver. But if it ever comes to that you’ll long to be eaten, because the pain that comes from the torture before is indescribable. Women like those two there will be the cruellest, and they’ll heat sticks in the fire and insert them in every orifice.’