On the crest of the low rise where we had first seen the buffalo stood several Indians. Each carried a bow and a spear as well, with a quiver of arrows behind each left shoulder. As we watched, another Indian appeared, then another, and another.
My musket was in my hands, and I waited, watching.
When at last they ceased to appear, at least thirty warriors lined the crest.
Against them we could fire three shots before they would be upon us.
Chapter 23
They stared upon us, and we upon them, and then Wa-ga-su stepped suddenly forward and called out to them in his own tongue.
Instantly they were alert. One of them came a few steps forward, peering at him.
Wa-ga-su spoke again, and motioned them back, wisely guessing that any sudden advance might bring gunfire.
He walked toward them, speaking the while, and they waited for him. Suddenly they were all about him, showing great excitement. They seemed to know him, and yet I could not be sure.
He turned then and came to me. "They are my people," he said. "They are Catawba." Then he added, "They hunt for meat, but they have killed nothing."
"Wa-ga-su, the cow we must have, and the hides of both, but I would not see your people hungry. They may have the bull."
Walking out to the butchering, I explained to Quill, Slater, and Fitch. "Skin out the cow," I said, "and get the meat and hide. I think we will make some friends here."
At Wa-ga-su's invitation, they descended upon the bull, and in no time at all fires were going and meat was roasted.
Lila met me at the edge of the clearing. "I think we must stay here," she said.
"Her time is upon us."
Thoughtfully, I looked around. The grove of trees where the boats were drawn up was lovely, a peaceful place, open to the sky and with a good clear lookout in all directions, as well as a good field of fire.
There was water, fuel, and as evidenced by the buffalo, there would be game. If my son was to be born, it would be better here.
"Is this your country?" I asked Wa-ga-su.
"No ... but my people are great hunters and wanderers. They travel far."
"They have women and child with them?"
"Many." He motioned toward the southwest. "Over there." Then he added, "You have given them much meat. They are pleased."
"If they are your people," I said, "they are our people."
The remark pleased him, and he repeated what he had said before, that it would be well for us to live with his people until the winter had come and gone.
"It may be," I said, "if it pleases your people. But we must try to find a place near the mountains ... in a small valley, with water and timber."
"There are many, and many more over the mountains."
"What people live over the mountains?"
He shrugged. "All people hunt there, no people live."
Together we went back to our camp. The fire was burning, the boats tied along the bank now, and an awning of sailcloth had been raised, under which Abby was lying.
Sitting down beside her, I told her we would remain where we were until our child was born, and I told her of the Indians, whom she had not yet seen, and of the buffalo I had killed.
"It is a good place," I said, "and we can hunt nearby and gather fruit and nuts to help our eating. It is such another place as this that we will find."
"Why not here, Barnabas?" she asked me.
"No. It is lovely, but it is not the blue mountains. I think in those mountains we will find a place we love, and another place, as well."
"Another?"
"Someday we may wish to move on, or our children. We must think of our children.
The land we have passed through is too fair a land to lie empty as it is, and more men will come and settle there."
Abigail was listening, a smile on her face.
"There are mines to be opened here. I have heard much of metals the Spanish found. And the furs we can trade with Peter Tallis."
Holding her hand, I talked long of what we must do, of the planting of grain, the saving of seed, the planting of fruit trees and vegetables.
Sakim came up to join us. "There are many plants here that I know, plants used for medicine in other countries."
Around the campfire, we talked. "It would grow whatever we need. Is it not so, John?"
John Quill nodded. "It is true." He looked around him and shook his head. "I cannot believe it, Captain. So much land, and so few people, when in our country people long for the land and have none, for it all belongs to the great lords.
Even the wild game is theirs."
"Aye," Tom Watkins agreed, "but trust not the red man. Have you seen their eyes when they see what we have? Each of our boats becomes a treasure ship to them, worth as much in their eyes as the richest Spanish galleon is to us."
Tim Glasco spoke then. "We have come far, and we follow wherever you go, but what is it you plan?"
So I told them, talking quietly, of the valley I sought. A place with good water, good land, and timber for fuel and for building. Then to build first, as before, a stockade and shelter, and then to survey for each a square mile of land.
They stared at me. "A square mile?"
"Aye, and why not? There is land in plenty, and each should have, if we can arrange it so, some stream frontage, some timber, some meadow. But at first I think we should remain together, inside the stockade at night.
"During the day we can work our land. Perhaps a piece close by that belongs to all, and which all work, and then each his own, further out. Within the stockade we must have stores, a granary, and the blacksmith shop, and a shop where Magill can weave and make barrels for us.
"There, with luck, we can build a small community, a world of our own. We will also trap fur, and when we have sufficient we will go down to the sea and trade, for more ships will come, and colonies will be established."
Well I know that what I said would require doing, and no easy thing it would be, and also now that we had come to a stop ... or soon would ... there would be more chance of trouble among us. Circumstances had tended to weed out many of those who might cause problems, but being human, there would be differences of opinion, for the ideal situation may exist but not ideal people. Wise I might not be, but I was wise enough to know that I myself would make mistakes. I was subject to anger, to sorrow ... I do not think to discouragement.
If we lived among the Indians we would soon become Indians, and it seemed best that we keep to ourselves, be friendly, exchange gifts and favors, and with the buffalo bull we had begun well, for the bringer of meat is welcome at any fire.
Up to now we had been fortunate, but now we faced a winter, perhaps not a hard winter, for from what Wa-ga-su had said the winters were not bad ... except occasionally. Nonetheless, we would need fuel, food, and shelter, and much hard work to have them.
All of us would change, and I myself had already changed, for suddenly I had become a leader of men who depended upon me to lead them well. Now I had to think carefully, and to plan, I had to be sure the work was evenly shared, and the food as well. I wished not to interfere with the Indians nor their way of life, but to learn from them. They knew the plants and animals of this country, they knew the seasons and how high up the rivers a man could go by boat.
Whatever their thinking they had found a way of life in tune with the country, a way that seemed good with them.
Abby was not one to lie long upon her bed, and soon she was with Lila, cooking, sewing, and mending garments for the other men as well as myself. Her time was soon, and I walked into the forest alone, worried, thinking of her, and knowing little of such things as births, yet glad of the presence of Lila and Sakim.