Read Salt Online

Authors: Helen Frost

Salt (10 page)

a shot. It fell in the water … and they … they left it there.

We stand with him in silence. I try to find words for my question:

Do the herons know the difference between them and us?

Grandma says,
Iihia
.
Yes. They do
.

JAMES

Pa and Ma are arguing. The American army went west for a few days; now

they're here again, getting ready to head back east where they came from.

They'll be going through Piqua, and the women and children are ready

to come home. Pa doesn't know where Old Raccoon and Piyeeto are,

so he volunteered to go to Piqua and bring everyone back home. Ma says,

No! How would we get along without you if …
She doesn't finish, but I know.

It's dangerous. Pa could get captured—or killed. After all that's happened,

won't everyone be mad?
I can speak the languages along the way,
Pa says,

at least enough to ask for help.
Ma says what I'm thinking:
What makes you so

sure anyone will help you?
Pa answers,
If you were at Piqua …
Ma interrupts:

I'm not at Piqua! I'm here with James and Molly! And I don't want to stay

in this fort any longer. When will you start cutting logs for our new house?

They go on like that, longer than I've ever heard them argue. I think Ma will

win, but I fall asleep before she does, and when I wake up, Pa's not here.

ANIKWA

The sun

shines on a circle of white

hair, all the grandparents, talking to each other.

We have survived hard times before
.

They talk all morning, then

all afternoon, on

into evening.

This comforts me.

They'll know what to do,

where we should go, how we can

stay together. But their faces, when they rise

from the circle, hold no answers, only sorrow. They've found

no way for us to stay together. Some will go to live with

relatives in other places, west or north or south.

Kwaahkwa's family is going so far west, we

don't know if we'll see them again.

Rain Bird turns her face away.

What will our family do?

Grandma's sister

lives six days' journey to the west.

But Father says,
If none of us return to Kekionga,

they'll treat our home as if we have abandoned it. They'll say

we don't need it anymore.
He looks at Grandma.

We will go back,
they agree.

SALT STREAKS

Tears come from earth and sky,

from words moving through us.

We taste them as they fall,

leaving salt streaks on our faces.

We bear witness as they splash

back to earth, and are absorbed.

JAMES

I hate staying in the fort without Pa. Last night some of the soldiers

got in a big fight. Ma covered Molly's ears, but I heard the whole thing.

Those men miss their wives and children,
Ma explained.
It won't be so bad

when things get back to normal.
But will that ever happen? How can it?

So far, none of the Miami have come back to Kekionga. I heard a soldier

say,
If they leave for good, I have a real nice place picked out for my house,

where the river curves around that big rock. Good fishing. The trees will

grow again, and we'll have shade.
I know the place he means, not far

from where Anikwa's house used to be—before it got burned down.

Ma won't let me go look.
When your pa gets home, we'll all go,
she says.

A few streaks of orange splash the evening sky, and pretty soon

it's red and purple. What's that sound? Quiet at first, then louder.

Sandhill cranes are flying in, hundreds of them, thousands.

Calling back and forth as they land in the burned cornfields.

ANIKWA

It's raining

as we begin our long walk home.

Soft rain, like the sky is crying, and it isn't going to stop.

The geese form into arrows pointing south, calling

down to us as they fly over. Cold, dark

days are coming. We won't

be ready for them.

I'm trying not to be so hungry,

not to think about the snow that will soon

cover the ground, how ice will slow the river to a stop.

The army's gone, but tracks are everywhere—grass and flowers

trampled down. Where are the animals? Did they kill them, or scare

them into hiding? Toontwa walks beside me. He's hungry too,

and since I don't have food to share, I tell him stories.

In one, I imitate the sound of sandhill cranes

and right then, hundreds of them fly

up from a burned cornfield—

there must be

a little corn

still left on the ground.

At the edge of the field, I see a deer, running.

Look, Toontwa—moohswa,
I say
. See her white tail flashing?

She stops and stands still for a minute

watching us.

JAMES

Ma keeps talking about her sister:
I wonder if Amanda could convince

Ethan to leave Philadelphia. I hear it's getting crowded out east—

I'm sure there would be room for them here. Think of it, James!

She breaks into a big smile—the first one I've seen since Pa left.

You'd have cousins to play with!
It's true, I'd like that. Uncle Ethan

could help us build our new house and then we'd help them build theirs.

I've never met my cousins, but I'd like to. Twin boys a little older than me,

a girl a year and a half younger. A boy about two years older than Molly.

With both families working together,
Ma says,
we'd make the trading post

bigger and better. We'll need new merchandise when we open it again,

and they have money—they could help replace what we lost in the fire.

She spends all day writing a letter.
I'll mail it when I can,
she says.

Rupert hears her talking and reminds us:
This part of the territory isn't open

for settlement yet. They still have to work out some details in the treaties.

ANIKWA

It's almost dark

when we walk into Kekionga.

Or where it used to be. Now it's … ashes.

Kwaahkwa told us, but no one could

imagine how terrible it is:

every house

torn apart

and burned. The fish

we had to leave on drying racks

scattered everywhere, and trampled.

Corncobs and fish heads covered with flies—

the army must have eaten what they wanted, and then

destroyed whatever was left over. Didn't they know—

they must have known—it's too late to grow more

corn, and we won't be able to catch many

fish before the river freezes.

Will the animals find

their way

back?

Will deer give us

hides for warmth and shelter, meat

for winter food? Father says,
It's worse than I thought.

Grandma says,
You helped them go to Piqua.

They should help us now.

JAMES

I'm sitting on a rock near the burned-down trading post, trying out

a new tune on my whistle, when Old Raccoon walks up, holding

a white cloth on a stick to show he comes in peace.
Aya, James,
he says.

Hello,
I answer.
You looking for Pa? He went to Piqua.
Ma sees us talking

and walks over.
Aya,
she says.
I expect Mr. Gray to be home tomorrow

or the next day.
Old Raccoon says,
I'll come back. Please tell him I need

credit for tools and blankets.
Ma says she'll tell him. I ask,
Will you bring

Anikwa next time you come?
Old Raccoon doesn't answer yes or no.

He looks at the charred ruins of our house.
We didn't start the fire,
he says.

Ma replies,
We know that.
She sweeps her arm toward Kekionga and says,

I'm sorry.
There must be bigger words somewhere, but none of us

can find them. Old Raccoon turns away. As we watch him walking

down the trail, I remember how some people cheered when they saw

Kekionga burning.
What will they do now?
I ask. Ma has no answer.

ANIKWA

Soldiers found

the food we buried in the forest

but, as we hoped, they didn't think of looking

under fire pits. We dig through ashes, lift

out the food we hid, and carry it

to where we're building

our new wiikiaami.

Eleven other families

are making houses close to ours.

Later, we'll all work together, building

a new longhouse. We won't have time, before snow

falls, to build new homes with logs, but cattail walls and elk hides

will keep out the coldest winds. Grandma says,
This

may be the hardest winter we have ever known.

But we will survive—we always have.

Here, where the river curves

around a rock that used

to stand in the shade

of seven maple

trees, my parents

and my grandparents are

buried. When summer comes again,

a cool breeze will blow across

their graves.

JAMES

When's Pa going to get back? Maybe then Ma will quit scrubbing

tables, floors, and walls. Not just the room we stay in—she's cleaning

the whole fort.
Take Molly outside?
she asks. Molly reaches out her hand

and smiles. I take her to the yard inside the fort, then out to where

the chickens used to be, and over to the garden to see if there's still

any food there. It's stripped clean except for a small patch of parsley.

I keep looking at the road from Piqua. Hey—is that them? Yes! Women,

children … and Pa is right behind them! I run back in the fort to tell Ma.

She splashes water on her face, like she's washing off the worry lines.

We go meet them—Pa swings down from his horse, hugs Ma and Molly,

roughs up my hair.
Looks like you took care of things around here, Son,
he says.

Isaac runs over.
Hey, James,
he hollers,
we won the war!
He looks at the burned

ground where the forest was:
Good job clearing out those bushes!
How come

seeing Isaac makes me feel more lonesome than I did when he was gone?

ANIKWA

Mink and Toontwa

are twisting strips of linden bark,

making twine to sew new cattail mats. Father and I dig

holes to set the sapling posts, while Grandma

teaches Rain Bird how to sew

the mats together. If we

keep on

working hard like this,

we'll have shelter by tomorrow night.

I hear someone coming—speaking English. James?

Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Gray, and Molly. They tie their horses to a tree.

Mr. Gray lifts down two big saddlebags, and looks around the clearing

till he sees us. We stop what we're doing. Mink glances at Grandma.

Rain Bird looks at me. What do they want? James looks around

with wide-open eyes. Hasn't he seen a family make a house

before? Grandma motions to them
: Come near the fire
.

James is holding something odd-shaped,

wrapped up in a blanket.

Father's fiddle.

He hands it to Father,

and Mr. Gray opens up a saddlebag,

takes out nine dried fish and a small bag of corn.

I saved what I could,
he says. A gift—that was

ours to begin with.

JAMES

Anikwa looks at me like he's forgotten who I am, his eyes so sad

and angry I don't know what to say. I made him a new whistle, but now

it seems like it belongs someplace we can't go back to. I keep it

in my pocket. We give them a ball of twine, a new blade for their saw.

Ma says,
This is not on credit. It's a gift.
Pa looks surprised to hear that,

but he doesn't disagree. A few leaves are turning yellow, falling

from the trees into the river. When I do offer the whistle to Anikwa,

he takes it, but he doesn't smile. He looks older. He looks hungry.

They all do. Mink spreads out her hands and speaks to us. Old Raccoon

repeats her words in English:
Please sit with us and eat
. He goes away and

comes back with a roasted rabbit. Mink holds out a small gourd bowl to Pa.

He turns red and looks down at the ground before he dips his fingers in. Salt.

Thank you,
he says softly. I whisper to Ma,
They hardly have any food. Why

are they feeding us?
She answers,
You should know by now. This is who they are.

ANIKWA

If we

sit down to eat with James

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