Culture Clash

It proved it's worth when we were on the way to the village of Jacob's sweetheart and came upon a raiding party from the Shawnee. You could tell it was a raiding party because they had stopped to put on paint. If they were there to trade there would have been none.

We made a quick plan. Jacob would stay and watch them, and I would run to warn the village. I dropped my pack and took off immediately. It took a day and a half of steady running before I reached the village, shouting the alarm as I entered. A council was convened, and after they heard my report, they debated how to respond. Most of the men were on a hunting trip, not due back for a week. There were a dozen warriors available and almost thirty in the raiding party. They asked my opinion. "Go out and meet them in a spot of your choosing. If they get to the village they could do much harm. They outnumber us, but with my weapons, we can eliminate many before they close with us."

I rested the remainder of the day and we left the next morning. Jacob stepped out onto the trail later in the day and a hurried plan was made. There was a large creek they had to cross, chest-deep and wide. I remembered using the river to my advantage before, so we decided to attack when most were in the creek and unable to mount a defense. Jacob and six of the warriors were going to hide on the other side, and I would take the rest and wait until they were in the river before opening fire. When I shot it would be the signal for Jacob to attack.

They had a scout out but a well-placed arrow dispatched him to the halls of his ancestors. We caught him just as he exited the creek, so the others would see his tracks and assume he was already across and scouting the other side.

They appeared, clustered, and talked a bit before starting to cross. I waited until about twenty were in deep water before I shot the leader, his head disappearing in a red spray, coating his companions. There was a panic, some trying to get back while others pressed forward. Arrows took care of another seven. When I shot, Jacob stepped forward and shot into the ones still clustered on the far bank. Two were killed instantly and four more were wounded, two fatally. With a scream, he dropped the shotgun, pulled his short sword and filled his left with a tomahawk. He charged forward, the six braves following after they loosed their own arrows. Of the ten still on the bank, there were only four left to fight back and they were eliminated quickly. The rest made it to the bank and we closed.

I shot one warrior in the chest with the pistol, hit another in the leg near the hip. He went down, unable to get up. By then I'd switched the pistol to the left and pulled my sword. They had no experience with such a weapon and I killed two before they learned to respect it. The others were fighting and suddenly it went quiet.

I stood, chest heaving. I'd taken a pretty deep cut on my left arm, two of our warriors were dead and three wounded slightly but the raiding party, all of them except the warrior I'd wounded in the leg, were dead. I looked across the creek to grin at Jacob, to see him on the ground and the others clustered around him. I charged through the stream to find he'd taking a serious wound to the thigh and was bleeding heavily. Knowing what to do, I got a fire going while the braves held pressure. When the knife blade was glowing red, I gave him a stick to bite down on and slapped the blade to his wound. His eyes went wide and he gave a strangled grunt, before lapsing into unconsciousness.

I rubbed some grease our mother had rendered from bear fat and infused with healing herbs to cover his wound. I recharged all the weapons and a warrior helped me get him back to the village, after I made the rest swear he'd get his share of the loot. They were busily stripping and mutilating the bodies as we left. All that would be left when they got through would be a pile of body parts left for the scavengers. The weapons, clothing, and contents of their packs would be shared alike by the defenders. The one I'd shot in the hip was still alive, and he would no doubt be experiencing a slow and painful death very soon. It was the way of their world.

Jacob ended up wintering with the tribe and I fully expected he'd be a married man by the time I returned.

*****

Two years later he kissed his wife and small son goodbye. We were going on our biggest trip ever, going up the backbone of the country as far North as we could. He teased me on the way, about taking a wife, something our mother was pressuring me to do. I'd lost my virginity when I came of age and now enjoyed the women offered by the tribes I traded with, but I had found no one I wanted for a mate.

The girls at home and in the villages I visited were more than willing, and despite my long hair and leather-clad body, there were a few of the girls in Charlottetown who seemed open to a courtship. None of them struck my fancy except as short term playmates. I was five feet eleven inches tall, a virtual giant at a time when the average male was six inches shorter, and thanks to my lifestyle I was lean and fit. My hair was down past my shoulders, not unusual for the times, jet black and glossy. I preferred to be cleanshaven, perhaps because of my companions, in an age when most frontiersmen wore beards. From a distance, I was often mistaken as an Indian until the saw my grey eyes, and was once targeted by a bunch of drunks who assumed as an Indian I wouldn't want trouble. I broke the arm of one, flattened the nose of another, and the last would go through the rest of his life with his front teeth missing.

They tried getting a constable but when he found out I was of the same race there was little he could do, laughing when they said I attacked them. "In the future, boys, you better make sure of who you target. Even if it was an Injun, it was still three to one. Take your lumps and learn from it."

They mumbled after he left, fingering their daggers. I sighed. "All right then. Pick who goes first and whip the knife out. It better taste good because I'll push it down your throat." I pulled my short sword and the fight went out of them. Still watched my back the rest of the time I was there.

I was a pretty good fighter but my father always pounded in our heads there was always someone out that who was better or luckier than us and to avoid confrontations if possible. "Then again," He said with a grin, "if they keep pushin', push back hard."

There were no rules for fighting in our world. You used every advantage to win and worried about the correctness of your actions later.

We traveled up the country, stopping to trade here and there, venturing into a big town about halfway into our journey to get rid of some of what we had traded for and to lay in a new supply. Most had never seen anything but a 'tame' Indian, and were nervous over Jacob's weapons and demeanor. He looked them in the eyes and didn't bow his head. We found a merchant who gave us a reasonable if low price for our goods, bought what we thought would do well, and left as quickly as possible. A few enterprising souls tried to follow us, and we laughed as we led them around in circles, ending when we slipped into their camp while they slept and taking everything down to the rifles they held in their hands, dropping it all off at the next town, telling them we had found them on the trail.

We faded back into the woods and continued on our way. We had picked up a few friends and they went with us for adventure and a share of the goods they carried. One was the brother of Jacob's wife and most were cousins somehow or another. That technically made them my brother-in-law and cousins, and who could you trust more than family? It also gave us a little more leverage in confrontational situations. Two of the things I'd manage to trade for before we left were more pistols, one a small single shot in .30 caliber that I carried, and another double in the same caliber as my rifle that Jacob wore in his sash. For two people it was a lot of firepower.

We had been away from home for eighty days, so far north we didn't recognize some of the trees or wildlife, when we came across a band of Mohawks, fiercesome looking people with wicked-looking weapons. Every brave carried a warclub, made from a dense wood. They had a round ball in front and a sharp point carved in the back and they were quite competent with them.

After a brief consultation, they took us to their town. It was pretty large, the longhouses standing in rows just underneath a ridge. We traded and hunted with them for two weeks. It was fall by then and they were about to embark on a moose hunt. Jacob and I went along, amazed at the size of the beasts when we first saw them. A well-aimed shot proved they weren't bulletproof and we ended up killing five over two days, three cows and two bulls. I looked at the antlers and wished I had some way to carry them back but it would be too impractical.

They're the ones who told me of the white settlement eight days journey to the East. They avoided any contact and tried their best to describe them and their habits to me but I had a hard time believing them, so I decided to see for myself. Jacob decided to go with me. On the sixth day, we started seeing signs and on the seventh, we observed a "hunter." He had an old blunderbuss that looked like it might fly apart if he shot it, made enough noise as half a village and was hunting in the middle of the day, the absolute worst time to find game. We followed him back to his town, amusing ourselves by brushing his back as he walked through the forest. He never once realized we were there.

There were probably twenty-five homes that were better described as shacks, a large for the settlement church, and another building I learned served as an armory and jail. Seems these people were big on punishment. They had cleared fields and though they worked diligently their harvest was poor. I was amazed at the difference between here and home, where the fields overflowed with abundance most years. The Cherokee were big fans of The Three Sisters. They would plant a hill of corn and when it was about kneehigh they'd plant pole beans to run up the stalk. When they were established they would then plant a squash or pumpkin, to provide shade to help keep the water on the plant longer. The corn was planted over a large fish, there to act as fertilizer as it decayed. It was a system that worked quite well.

I was watching the second day when a new woman arrived to work the fields. She had on the apparent uniform for these women, a heavy dress, big bonnet, and clunky shoes. I hoped they had better footwear for the coming winter. I was just about to turn to leave when a child came running through the field, her golden curls creating a halo around her head. She ran to her mother with a dipper.

The woman paused, pushing her bonnet back and wiping her brow. Suddenly, I found it hard to breathe. Her thick blond hair hung in a thick braid down to the bottom of the bonnet. Her high forehead and clear blue eyes rose above a perfect mouth, cute and well-formed.

"Momma, this is for you!"

The girl couldn't have been more than seven or eight, an almost carbon copy of her mother. The woman took the dipper gratefully, drinking the water down.

She reached down and ruffled the child's hair. "Thank you, sweetie."

They talked for a minute before a large man strode up, his whole manner conveying anger. "Mistress Smith, why do you tarry?"

Her disdain was plain on her face. "I do not, as you put it, tarry. I was here an hour before your sister and she has already stopped for water three times. Perhaps you should encourage her to bend more willingly to her tasks."

He went about three shades of red as the others watched, many of them smiling. "You are impertinent, Mistress Smith!"

She barely held her amusement in. "I prefer to say I am honest, Reverend Harkness. However, I am quite refreshed now, and bend willingly to my task."

She turned in an obviously dismissive way and resumed hoeing. He stood, flaming red, trying to decide what to do, before stomping off, avoiding eye contact with his followers. An older woman was hoeing close by and cautioned the younger woman. "You must be more circumspect, friend Hope. Remember, you are widowed and at the mercy of the settlement."

"As are you, my friend. I think our husbands were the best of the lot. These men have no idea how to survive in this land. My husband taught me much, and if we do not lay in a supply of meat soon things will be desperate by the end of the winter. It is a shame I did not learn to hunt."

The older woman seemed shocked. "That borders on blasphemy, child. It is not our place to hunt."

"I prefer to think it is not our place or God's will for us to starve, Temperance. A definite possibility, in my opinion."

I drifted back into the trees, thinking. I went out that afternoon and killed a buck fat on the mast of fall. I cleaned it, and that night Jacob and I slipped into the village. I hung a hindquarter by the woman's door, a shoulder by the door of her older friend. The rest we distributed through the village, to the homes I thought needed it most.

I watched in the early morning light as doors opened to gasps of surprise. There were calls back and forth but the meat disappeared into homes, and soon the smell of sizzling meat filled the air. Later, as the older men and the women worked the field, I listened to the chatter.

"Where do you think it comes from?"

There was a lot of discussions until they got to the older woman. She just smiled. "It came from God. Oh, maybe he didn't kill or dress the animal, but He directed the hands that did. I'm going to ask Him to bless those hands tonight in my prayers."

People became quiet as the Reverend strode through the field. He stood in the middle and commanded everyone to give him their attention. "Which one of you shirked your duties yesterday and went hunting?"

Everyone, of course, denied shirking. Hope spoke after the hubbub died down. "We thought perhaps it was one of your mighty hunters, Reverend Harkness. If they didn't down the beast then perhaps there is a guardian angel watching over us. And if it was one of us, perhaps you would do best by reassigning him to hunting duties. Our hunters have been out every day except the Sabbath this week, and all they have to show for it is three rabbits and a lone squirrel. We will not make the winter unless they bag enough deer, elk, perhaps a bear of moose, to preserve for the cold times. Our crops have yielded little this season. Maybe a trading expedition to the local natives would help."

"We will not accept help from heathens! They are a plague on this land and should be removed!"

Temperance smiled. "How? We do not have the men or arms to engage in battle. Even if it's bow against muskets, when it's twenty bows to a single musket the outcome can be foretold. I think we should make overtures, see if they can help us."

"Know your place, old woman. You live at my sufferance."

"Ah yes, your sufferance. If it wasn't for the fact I have a son due to return soon, you would already have me off my land. You always talk about judgment, Reverend. Perhaps one day someone will judge you."

The man went about eight shades of red before he turned to Hope. "This is your doing!"

Hope barely kept from laughing at him. "My fault? The woman is scared we might not survive the winter. We're all scared we might not survive the winter, but instead of doing anything about it you bluster and judge. You claim to know God's will, is it His will we die? Do something Woolsey Harkness, before we do!"

There was a lot of muttering and he strode forward angrily, his arm raised. My rifle was up, tracking his movement. If he hit her, he'd wear a ball through his shoulder. He stopped, amazed that instead of cowering she stood straight, looking him in the eye. He stood for a moment, then angrily ordered everyone back to work, his feet stomping huge tracks in the soil as he left. The older woman looked at her disapprovingly.

"You go too far, Sister Hope. You know he's aching for a reason to take your holdings or perhaps marry you off to his advantage."

"I'll leave this place before I let that happen, Sister Temperance! It is in my heart this place is doomed."

I faded back into the woods, thinking she was most likely right.

*****

I watched for another two days. Jacob was urging me to leave. We'd done our trading and he was anxious to go home to his family. I made a light pack of trade goods I thought I would need and told him to go home and I'd be behind him in a couple of weeks. Flows Easy was no fool.

"She is not of our kind, and I do not mean skin color. Her world is smaller, meaner, and without joy. She would not be happy married to a Trader who is gone most of the time."

He gave up trying to dissuade me and was gone with our men the next day.

I had noticed the child shivering. The cold was seeping in and their clothes were not designed for winter wear. I went back to the Mohawk, trading for a buckskin dress and warm leggings, a bear cape, and moosehide moccasins in what I hoped would fit the child. It was a big risk but even if it didn't work out, she would still be warm this winter.

There was a well, but most preferred drinking water from a small spring a few feet into the woods. She usually came by just before noon to fetch a bucket of water for her mother and the other workers. I stepped out behind her as she bent to fill her pail. She must have heard something and turned around, dropping the bucket in terror. I smiled and put my finger to my lips, hoping she would understand. She did not, letting out a small squeak and running like the devil was after her.

Unfortunately, she ran away from the settlement instead of towards it. I followed slowly, not wanting her to think I was chasing her. She was surprisingly fit, running over a mile before she slowed to a walk. I drifted through the trees behind her, letting her calm down while keeping an eye on her. She finally stopped at a stream, unsure of which way to go. I spoke from the shadows.

"Be calm, child. I am not an Indian. I'm a trader, traveling through this land. I will not harm you. You may run away again if you like, but if you do I'll disappear and you'll never see me again. Oh, and you're running the wrong way. Your home is in the opposite direction. You should always be aware of your surroundings and where safety lies. What if I really been an Indian or a mean man?" I took another chance and stepped into the clearing.

She looked into my eyes, her expression solemn. Finally she spoke. "What do you want?"

"I want to trade, child. Look at these."

I'd done pretty well guessing the sizes. Everything would be a little large, but what child stops growing? I laid everything at her feet, explaining how to wear the leggings and moccasins and latch the cape. Her eyes were huge.

"We do not have much, Mother and I. What is the cost, and could you get some for mother?"

"The cost is your smile, child. And an introduction to your village so I can trade. Now gather these and return. If you stay longer they will come looking for you. If your mother would like clothes like this, tomorrow, when she takes a drink of water, if her bonnet falls down and she smiles at the wood, something can be arranged."

We had been walking while we talked and we were soon back at the spring. She looked down at her treasure and I took the opportunity to fade into the forest. She looked up, her eyes going wide at my disappearance. She was gathering up the clothing when her mother strode up. "Charity! What is taking so long? I was very worried a savage had abducted you!"

She showed her mother the clothes and explained our meeting. "I thought he was an Indian, Momma, but he said he was a trader. Look at this!"