Ach, no much, he said. An Abenaki bastard shot me wi an arrow, at Monmouth. Denny cut it out for me a few days afterthats Denzell Hunter, he added, seeing her blank look. Rachels brother. Hes a doctor, like your mam.
Rachel! she exclaimed. Your wife?
A huge grin spread across his face.
She is, he said simply. Taing do Dhia. Then looked quickly at her to see if shed understood.
I remember thanks be to God, she assured him. And quite a bit more. Roger spent most of the voyage from Scotland refreshing our Gàidhlig. Da also told me Rachels a Quaker? She made it a question, stretching to step across the stones in a tiny brook.
Aye, she is. Ians eyes were fixed on the stones, but she thought he spoke with a bit less joy and pride than hed had a moment before. She left it alone, though; if there was a conflictand she couldnt quite see how there wouldnt be, given what she knew about her cousin and what she thought she knew about Quakersthis wasnt the time to ask questions.
Not that such considerations stopped Ian.
From Scotland? he said, turning his head to look back at her over his shoulder. When? Then his face changed suddenly, as he realized the ambiguity of when, and he made an apologetic gesture, dismissing the question.
We left Edinburgh in March, she said, taking the simplest answer for now. Ill tell you the rest later.
He nodded, and for a time they walked, sometimes together, sometimes with Ian leading, finding deer trails or cutting upward to go around a thick growth of bush. She was happy to follow him, so she could look at him without embarrassing him with her scrutiny.
Hed changedno great wonder therestill tall and very lean, but hardened, a man grown fully into himself, the long muscles of his arms clear-cut under his skin. His brown hair was darker, plaited and tied with a leather thong, and adorned with what looked like very fresh turkey feathers bound into the braid. For good luck? she wondered. Hed picked up the bow and quiver hed left at the top of the cliff, and the quiver swung gently now against his back.
But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face, she thought, entertained. It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists / It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees, dress does not hide him. The poem had always summoned Roger for her, but now it encompassed Ian and her father as well, different as the three of them were.
As they rose higher and the timber opened out, the breeze rose and freshened, and Ian halted, beckoning her with a small movement of his fingers.
Dye hear them? he breathed in her ear.
She did, and the hairs rippled pleasantly down her backbone. Small, harsh yelps, almost like a barking dog. And farther off, a sort of intermittent purr, something between a large cat and a small motor.
Best take off your stockings and rub your legs wi dirt, Ian whispered, motioning toward her woolen stockings. Your hands and face as well.
She nodded, set the gun against a tree, and scratched dry leaves away from a patch of soil, moist enough to rub on her skin. Ian, his own skin nearly the color of his buckskins, needed no such camouflage. He moved silently away while she was anointing her hands and face, and when she looked up, she couldnt see him for a moment.
Then there was a series of sounds like a rusty door hinge swinging to and fro, and suddenly she saw Ian, standing stock-still behind a sweet gum some fifty feet away.
The forest seemed to go dead for an instant, the soft scratchings and leaf-murmurs ceasing. Then there was an angry gobble and she turned her head as slowly as she could, to see a tom turkey poke his pale-blue head out of the grass and look sharp from side to side, wattles bright red and swinging, looking for the challenger.
She cut her eyes at Ian, his hands cupped at his mouth, but he didnt move or make a sound. She held her breath and looked back at the turkey, who emitted another loud gobblethis one echoed by another tom at a distance. The turkey she was watching glanced back toward that sound, lifted his head and yelped, listened for a moment, and then ducked back into the grass. She glanced at Ian; he caught her movement and shook his head, very slightly.
She cut her eyes at Ian, his hands cupped at his mouth, but he didnt move or make a sound. She held her breath and looked back at the turkey, who emitted another loud gobblethis one echoed by another tom at a distance. The turkey she was watching glanced back toward that sound, lifted his head and yelped, listened for a moment, and then ducked back into the grass. She glanced at Ian; he caught her movement and shook his head, very slightly.
They waited for the space of sixteen slow breathsshe countedand then Ian gobbled again. The tom popped out of the grass and strode across a patch of open, leaf-packed ground, blood in his eye, breast feathers puffed, and tail fanned and vibrating. He paused for a moment to allow the woods to admire his magnificence, then commenced strutting slowly to and fro, uttering harsh, aggressive cries.