AN: So after much thought, I've decided that this isn't an all human story. It will affect the plot a good deal, but the shouldn't change the principals too much. I've checked exploration out west at this point and the Olympic Penninsular had been mapped out by the Spanish already. I should probably be spending more time on the speech patterns, so I apologize for that. Oh and I'm really sorry about the lack of editing. Little people have been climbing all over me and I just want to put this out at this point. I hope you like it.
Chapter 3
Within a few days, my father was showing signs of a half recovery. The brittle malady that had surrounded him, was falling away with the bright sun and fresh air that came with leaving the ship. But his body and spirit were weathered. He looked much more than his 52 years. I understood that his commission had reached a stumbling block but that he had been offered a similar position that would require more travel. By travel, they meant trekking through wilderness by foot. Where would I go in that case?
He was taking walks with me and we had made small ventures around the small town and even up Yonge St towards the wild hinterlands beyond the lake. The lake was hardly a lake at all. But rather a massive water that more closely resembled a small sea. Much of this wild land was bigger, wider and broader. I could scarcely fathom what waited in the woods behind us.
There were more women in town than I had realized, although Mrs Bunting had cheerfully informed me that there were scattered farms that few ventured to. Mr Bunting was clearing their land north on Yonge St and starting their farm. She was waiting safely with her widowed mother in York.
I doubted her view on York being a place of safety. With recent fear of war breaking out with the Americans again and fear of attack from the Mississauga Indians, York wasn't a charming realm of safety. But I supposed it all came down to perspective. I suppose York with it's garrison was safer than the backwoods with only one man against American forces or an Indian war party. Or bears. I shuddered to think.
The town was situated on the harbour of a sandy peninsular with the garrison guarding the entrance to the harbour to the west. Small streams ran into the great lake at the foot of town with Yonge Street acting as the spine the ribs that were the concession lines dividing the lots. I'd heard the whispering that the garrison was unlikely to be sufficient to stop an American force marching in. Nor did it protect fully against the threat of Indian attack as we were unfortified, they walked amongst us selling furs for goods as they pleased. Small streams
On yet another sunny day, I passed the blacksmith's with the smell of smoke and leather harnesses when I saw my father talking to the man who had carried me to Mrs Powell's home the day I had arrived. The man with the green eyes was talking side by side with my father while my father frowned looking at the ground seriously studying where he was walking. I felt a knot in my stomach as they both looked at me at the same time as though contemplating my future. I ducked my head down, lifted my skirts a little higher and walked at a brisk pace back to our lodging. I broke into a run when I crossed over the threshold, passing Mrs Daniels with nary a wave and up the stairs into my room collapsing on my bed.
I had my suspicions. I had seen the way he looked at me. I had gone so far as to learn his name. Edward Mason. Old enough to be my father and not much younger. He had a general store he had started in the last two years. Somehow, I just knew where this was going. My father was a sick man being sent to go out trekking in the wilderness leaving me in a small outpost town. Mr Mason would have been an attractive man 10 or 20 years ago, but now he seemed far too old for me. And I had hoped that I would love or in the very least attracted to my future husband. The walls pressed in on me. He was really going to do it. My father was going to marry me off to an old man. He might not even live long enough to see our children to adulthood. I felt trapped. I thought of young Jane Bunting very pregnant. I thought about the other eligible bachelors living here. Soldiers and young men looking to start farms and fur traders. Out of them all, Edward was the most suitable. I knew there were marriages between more drastic age differences. I would estimate he was between 48 and 60. It was hard to tell, but even so that made him at least 20 years older than me.
I heard the front door open and eavesdropped on the conversation on the front door stoop.
"Edward, you have my blessing. I believe that this should settle the matter of her future concerns rather nicely." My heard my father's deep voice rumble quietly though the wooden floor boards.
I stopped listening at that point as I was having a fit on my bed. My bodice was fighting my heavy breathing, my body trembled as sobs built inside my chest. I heard them heading towards the front stairs. I couldn't face this just now. Not with my presentation as it was. I shot out of my room in the most undignified manner and raced to the small steep stairs into the kitchen and ran for the woods past spectators. I ran into blindly into the woods with my chest heaving from my sobs. I knew I was being melodramatic. But my future had been decided without me. I knew it wasn't my decision to make, but it seemed unfair when I would have had a choice if we had only stayed put in London. There had been some measure of choice back home. And he took it from me!
My run slowed as the pitch began to rise up steeply. I found a stone that wasn't really large enough to sit on, perching on it to take a breath. Lacking self-awareness at this moment I slumped down into the mud. I shouldn't have been so rash and dramatic. I was being so silly. I knew better than this. It was entirely ridiculous and unbecoming to act this manner.
The sound of the birds around helped me to slow and calm. I breathed in the woods and took stock of my surroundings. The sound of wood being chopped in the distance by a settler. The tree's sheltered my skin from the sun while small rays of light sprinkled as they swayed in the wind. I could say I had run much too far as the town was too far away to be seen or heard. A shock of blue caught my eye. A small bird landed 5 feet from me and hopped about nervously on the forest floor. He was white and striking blue with feathers sticking up on his head like the feathers the Indians wore. He seemed so cheerful and sprite looking at me cautiously but also curious as to why I looked so silly crying on the forest floor. He saw the lovely day. The productive land. Early summer.
Wiping at my eyes with the back of my hands, I sat up and laughed at my small accomplishment. I ran all thought this and didn't fall even once. I could seem to walk across a flat marble floor without tripping but I ran across the wilderness in distress and was sure footed. Getting up the trek back to town began. The midday sun was warmer than I remembered and heading down hill towards the water I realized that the land dipped and I was heading uphill again. Or maybe I had been turned around. And then I really did turn around feeling my stomach sink. Panicking wouldn't help matters. The best thing to do was consider my surroundings and see if I couldn't solve the matter on my own. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply.
"You're lost." A husky voice spoke much too closely and my eyes flung open to see the stranger presented to me only feet away. He must have crept upon me silently. A gasp slipped from my lips as I realized belonged to the young Indian who had been standing watching when I was pulled out of the water when I arrived. I was alone in the woods with a savage and I had no one to blame but myself. My heart thundered in my chest, my fear reigning over me as I fought my mind to not imagine what he might to me.
His face betrayed his amusement at me as he tried to show sincere concern. Embarrassment rose and flushed my cheeks as I realized that the only danger I was in was of making a fool of myself. He offered his right hand to me as though he wished to shake my hand. I stared at the impropriety. A young lady didn't shake hands. He looked between me and his hand before he chuckled and let it drop to his side with a beautiful white smile against his red hued skin. Looking at the man close up I could see that his skin wasn't quite brown but wasn't red. Fascinating. I had seen east Indians and Africans and Chinese, but none of their skin colours quite matched his.
"My name is Jacob Black." He introduced himself politely. I was taken aback by his English name for a moment and unfortunately I was still reacting to his husky voice that seemed waken something in my belly. For a pause the yawned open for far to long I struggled to find the words that I was looking for.
"Miss Swan." I managed. A small smile graced his lips and I wanted to ask him why he smiled but was out of my element and unsure of what the appropriate behaviour would be best in this situation. I couldn't place myself amongst the most eloquent of speakers and this event only served to punctuate my limitation. We stared it each other in silence. He was waiting and I was... I was socially flailing in front of a man wearing only a loin cloth! Glancing down at his loin cloth was a mistake because then I realized just how incredibly awkward this situation was. Seeing my distress he seemed to be torn between amusement and sympathy. And still, neither of us spoke. The longer the silence spread out the more difficult it became to settle on something to say.
Finally he brought an end to the grueling humiliation and spoke having given up waiting for me to speak. "May I escort you back to town Miss Swan?"
Unsure of the right answer, I decided I wanted to get back to York more than I wanted to have the right answer. So I simply nodded my head and took his offered elbow. It was when I held his arm that I became impossibly aware of how strong he was. I thought myself lucky that he wasn't the like the Indians I had been warned murdered, raped and pillaged. In fact, he seemed rather pleasant.
The heat was building and I had made the mistake of wearing a warm dress that had been for the crossing. In the summer heat nearing midday, I was far too hot. Determined not to faint in the woods with a strange savage at my side, I focused on placing one foot ahead of the other. I occasionally tripped on exposed roots, rocks and even thin air. Mr Black seemed rather amused by nervous disposition and clumsy balance. By contrast, I hadn't heard him so much as snap a twig in his moccasins. My silk slippers had been replaced by ugly if not more practical boots. I suspected while painful, my slippers would have been a tad more subtle in the woods.
"I can see how you fell off your boat." He commented with his deep husky voice that was doing things to me that it shouldn't have been.
"It's a ship." Burst from my own lips. I wished I could be somewhat more verbose with him.
"Is it now?" He glanced down at me.
"A boat can go in a ship but a ship won't fit in a boat." I muttered. That was how my governess had once explained it to me. Once upon a time, my father had been able to afford many servants. But in recent years, our fortunes had seen hardship. We didn't employ more than a single cook and a maid at home. At least we had before my father decided to move here.
"I'll keep that in mind." He commented.
Silence invaded the short reprieve and I searched my thoughts for something more to say. The same blue bird crossed our path and at once I had something to ask.
"What is that blue and white bird called over there?" I pointed to the bird perched on a branch. The only word I could find to describe the creature was exotic.
"A blue jay. It's on my totem." He grinned openly. His flash of white teeth and relaxed manner set me further at unease for reasons I couldn't explain. There was a tone of mysticism about him even as I reminded myself that he was a man just like any other. I had been told that the Indians and trackers moved differently, but his movements were ever so graceful for a man of his stature. Or any size for that matter. He reminded me of a cat stalking his prey. I stiffened at the thought. Was I the prey? Mr Black noticed my change of posture and threw me a questioning glance. Of course, this triggered yet another blush. How foolish was I? He nonchalantly returned his attention to his path subtly assisting me when I tripped. Always anticipating my mistakes before I could entirely stumble.
"What was the name of the tribe here? Missaugans? Senoca?" I attempted to make conversation hoping that I had pronounced the names correctly. He was silent for a moment and I snuck a glance up to see a false smile on his face. "My apologies, clearly I'm incorrect."
He nodded amiably. "It's the Mississaugans' that live nearby." He corrected.
I breathed the name under my breath making my second attempt to pronounce the name correctly. "Mississaissiggins." It shouldn't have been loud enough for him to hear but all the same Mr Black broke out laughing. Seeing my embarrassment he pulled his face into an insincere remorseful expression.
"Missa-sargans." He emphasized more slowly for me.
"Mississaugans." I attempted again and he rewarded me with a bright smile. We walked quietly as the oppressive heat built causing my skin to prickle and burn. It was becoming more difficult for me to hide my dizziness but I had no intention to expose my weakness to this stranger. "How far away is your home from here?" I inquired.
"I'd say about a two months walk. But at your pace? Closer to six months." He teased me.
My jaw dropped at the idea of walking that far before it occurred to me that he wasn't from here anymore than I was. Closing my mouth I inquired further. "Who are your people?"
"I'm Quileute. We live by a great water out west. I have tracked my prey far from our lands." He added sadly as though he were speaking half truths. He assumed that if he had wanted to share the details, he would have done so. It seemed more polite to let that pass.
A glimpse of white broke in the distance through the tree trunks. I was almost disappointed to realize that we were reaching York. I wished I had more time to talk to him. To learn why he would track prey the distance of two months walk from his home. Why was he dressed like the local Indians? And why did he make my belly coil tightly? I was jolted by the last question but chose to pretended that I hadn't thought of it.
"If you're from so far away, why do you speak English so clearly?" I blurted out thoughtlessly.
He cocked his eyebrow at me. "I learned French and English during travels years ago. I have been working as an interpreter and guide." He added with a smirk. "You are the first person I have guided so close to their own home." It ground on me that he would first know me as the woman who fell from her ship and then lost in the woods. He had seen me trip through the woods that he seemed so at ease in. He had seen me mumble, speak out of turn and behaving foolishly. In this land, strong and capable was most valued. I appeared to be anything but strong and capable here. I would have to work to fit in here. For some reason, I wanted this strange brave to view me as a productive member of this new society.
As we left the canopy of the woods the sun attacked my senses so hard I felt bile rise up my throat. I stubbornly fought it back and turned to thank Mr Black only to find that he had disappeared from my presence. There was no sign of him within the immediate vicinity.
"I found her!" My heard spun to see who had yelled when I saw Albert Campbell running towards me. For a moment my vision failed me and all I could see was black and my legs wanted to crumble under me. I dug my nails hard into the sweaty palms of my hand so hard I knew I was bleeding. My sight returned to me with the stab of pain and stubbornness effectively kept me conscious. An embarrassing fuss was made of me as people gathered. My father and Mr Mason appeared within the group. Looking at my father after seeing Mr Black, it struck me how he was still pale and sickly. Words were exchanged before Mr Mason without asking my permission swept me off my feet and carried me to our lodging. I was too exhausted and thirsty from the heat to care that he was carrying me. Soon enough his steps lulled me into unconsciousness.
