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Mataoka was in no mood to stay either, and Eliza, Kanti, my wife and I quickly set about returning home the very next day. Ma and pa understood that, although I had come back to visit so many times over the last couple of years, things had now changed. Now that the Indian village had been driven away, and now that I owned a forge of my own and no longer needed to bring pig iron to sell to the smithy in town – and that was assuming a new blacksmith took it over, to boot – and after all that had happened and how unwelcome Indians were nowadays, of course we weren’t coming back any time soon!
Now we were eager to get home, and stay home, and live our life on what was soon to become the frontier. Pa was telling me to build a church of our own, and claim another valley, and call it a village, and pay off the bailiff, and to start a trading post. The future was bright; the future was at home. As we turned out backs on the corrupt town we took strength in a better life back home - westwards.
Jethro and Mary put us up for a night, which was a very welcome break from sleeping under the draughty trees on the trail. They asked excitedly how town was and we did our best to not tell the story but just dismiss it as a place we were not fond of and wanted to get away from. They didn’t press, but it was good to be on our way the next morning, away from the risk of exposing ourselves.
The mill was quiet so we all treked onwards straight up to our cabin, hopeful we might get an evening meal. There we found Alawa minding our children.
“I thought I might never see you again“ Mataoka sobbed and held little Harvey and little Martha tight as soon as we arrived, “I thought I might never see you two again“
Alawa looked like she wanted to escape. “What’s wrong?“ Mataoka asked, and we all noticed Alawa glancing nervously at Eliza.
“Is there something wrong? Where is Eric?” Eliza asked, suddenly agitated. Kanti translated the question, for Alawa was no good at English, and then slipped her hand in Eliza’s reassuringly as all looked questioningly at Alawa.
Alawa shrugged nervously, trying to stifle an embarrassed laugh. “He’s with Reanna in the hot pool“ she grinned guiltily, the empty awkward grin of someone embarrassed at the pain their revelations were going to cause.
Mataoka and Kanti found this riotously funny, and I had to translate for a confused Eliza. Eliza smiled, too. Alawa was just perplexed and confused at the reactions. “What don’t I know?“ she asked huffily.
My Saint Nicolas Day presents of hard candy for the children and a silver-backed hairbrush for my wife were a big success and my wife beamed happily for days afterwards. It became Reanna’s routine to sit behind my wife by the fire in the evenings and brush her long, soft, black hair as we talked. Mataoka would often close her eyes and lean back into her friend, a soft contented smile plastered over her face.
Winter was harsh and Eric and Reanna and Eliza and Kanti moved up to our cabin, taking the second room. And this was good, for having the company and laughter around the fireplace in the evenings felt suddenly much more important, now that we understood how easily we could have lost everything, forever. Mataoka was quiet and introspective and said not much but rarely lost sight of the children nor let go of my hand all winter.
The willow fencing grew into thick, impenetrable green hedges around the fields and pens. The silty soil of the field continued to grow our crops well and be easy to work by hand. I um’ed and ah’ed about getting oxen or horses, but without more fields to cultivate we had no need of them. Mataoka was not fond of milk, so cows were not wanted either.
The site of the former summer camp had been transformed by Eric’s mill and the small field that Kanti and Eliza had cleared where many of the wigwams had been. I spent some time with Eric scouting where we could clear a larger field to grow more grain now that we had a water mill to grind it.
Farmers came from all around to buy from our forge. I eventually heard that there was a new smith in the town but for many people we were closer or cheaper. It took a long time for people to hear tell of the accusations that had befallen my wife and few associated that with the mill and forge anyhow, for few realized that Eric was my tenant.
I instructed Eric to extend the mill with a saw, too, and he set about constructing that as I fired more big batches of bricks for sale. Soon all around were buying their lumber and bricks from us. Eric took a pair of oxen and a cart in lieu of payment from one of the new, nearby farms and from then on we could use them for moving logs and doing deliveries.
Once we had found the best soil for a new field, we set about clearing the trees by lighting small fires against them to fell them and then carting off the logs to our new sawmill with the oxen. It was better than burning the whole area and consuming the timber as the other farmers and the Indians often did. Now, at last, we had as much acreage under till as we had people to work it, and we’d built wigwams over stacks of timber and planks, drying them out for sale.
Spring turned into summer. The twins, Simon and Judy, came out with ma and pa to visit us. Ma doted on the children and the twins adored their older sister, so a merry time was had. Alawa and Reanna were close, too, watching little Harvey walk and explore, and we had big feasts every night our guests were with us.
It was the first time ma had been away from the farm in a dozen years and the first time she had visited us in our valley. She was in awe of all we had built and achieved. She particularly liked to sit and watch the water wheel of the mill and marvel at how we used the forge to also heat water for washing and bathing.
Pa and I helped Eric set about building a cabin beside the mill and forge, a plank affair with brick foundations and wooden walls, floor and roof.
Ma and pa thought nothing of Eric and Eliza having two handmaidens – for the widow Reanna had moved in permanently, too – and I wasn’t sure of the sleeping arrangements (but Mataoka seemed sure that ma would be having no grandchildren from that marriage anyhow). I pondered how the Indians viewed the situation. Walla just shrugged when I tried, in a round about way, to ask him. All our faith was waning.
Perhaps Mataoka was giving Reanna the same concoction that she was taking to delay a third child of our own? Perhaps it was time for Mataoka to stop taking that herb, too? I could tell she was thinking about precisely that, and there was often a twinkle in her eye every time she and I were alone in the forest and there was a fallen tree she could bend over. Her hips, wider from the children, waved alluringly as she waited impatiently for me to thrust into her.
Shaking thoughts of my wife’s body from my mind, I turned back to my parents who were setting off homeward with the twins. I knew I would miss them, and that I would probably not visit them for many years and was hoping that they would be back soon.
Summer nights shortened and midsummer approached and things were a peaceful bliss in our valley, just Mataoka the children and I in the upper cabin and Eric, Reanna and Eliza and Kanti in the new lower cabin and our prosperity and industry all around us.
“Help! Help! Wake up!” Eliza screamed, jolting us awake. I fell out of bed and rushed to the door to see my sister racing up slope from the ladder, racing to rouse us.
“Help!” Eliza wailed, “they have come for Martha!”
Eliza collapsed, exhausted, by our door. The shouting had roused the children, too, and now they were crying out for us.
“Who has come for me?” Mataoka queried fearfully.
“The Reverend! And Jonathon! They have come to lynch you again!” Eliza slumped and stared back towards the ladder nervously.
“Where are they? Do they know you’ve come?” I asked as I tugged on my pants and mocasins. I threw Mataoka’s buckskin dress at her; and she slipped it over her head before she rushed to embrace our two children.
“Take the children and hide,” I commanded my wife as I picked up the hatchet I kept tucked in the low rafters of the porch- the same hatchet with which I had once killed my own father, the bailiff. I knew this wasn’t going to end until they were dead.
A distant musket shot rolled up the valley from the mill and Eliza wailed again and collapsed in fearful grief. I hoped it was Eric firing, and not Eric being fired upon. None of my guns were loaded; did I have time to load them, or should I race down to the mill?
Thrusting the hatchet into my belt, I grabbed two muskets and my pistol. As quickly as I could, I loaded them all. Mataoka could have helped me, but she was bundling up the children, carrying little Martha and leading little Harvey by the hand and disappearing into the thicket up the slope behind the house, towards the turkey pens. Eliza, had she been alert, could have helped me, too, for Eric and I had taught all our women to load and shoot in self defense, but my sister was in no fit state and she just watched me listlessly, no longer able to help even herself.
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