an idea, but to put it into effect he would need Waku’s canoe.
He watched the lake for another half an hour, then went down the stairs and around the cabin to the front door. The aromas that greeted him as he opened the door caused his belly to growl. “Good morning, one I love,” he said cheerfully as he entered.
Blue Water Woman was fixing eggs with strips of fried venison and toast. She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing. “What is so good about it?”
Shakespeare sank into his chair and stretched his legs. “Can’t a man say good morning to the other half of his heart without her being suspicious?”
“I know that tone and that look,” Blue Water Woman said. “You are up to something.”
“Perish forbid,” Shakespeare said. “I live but to please you and wait on your every whim.”
“What is the white expression?” Blue Water Woman pretended to try and remember. Suddenly she rounded on him, shaking a large wooden spoon. “You are full of it.”
“Such language, madam,” Shakespeare declared. “I am shocked.”
“What new silliness have you cooked up?”
Shakespeare sniffed and quoted, “Were I like thee, I would throw myself away.”
“Were I like you, I would need a keeper,” Blue Water Woman held her own.
“Say what you will. I will no further offend you than becomes me for my good.”
“So you
“I say thee, ha,” Shakespeare said smugly.
“I was talking to Tihikanima yesterday. She says you paid her husband a visit.”
“Uh-oh.”
“Strange that you never mentioned it to me. I asked her what you and Waku talked about and she said that Waku would not tell her.”
“Good for him!” Shakespeare declared. “A man with backbone is worth his weight in wildcats.”
“Waku also said that none of them were to use their canoe unless they checked with him first, since you might have need of it on short notice.”
“Dang him. If he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him bear it for a difference between himself and his horse.”
“Now, now. Not everyone can be as sneaky as you.”
“Speaking of horses, I would my horse had the speed of your tongue.”
Blue Water Woman made circles in the air with the wooden spoon. “Now, what would you want with a canoe? It is too big for you to play with in the wash tub when you take your yearly bath.”
“Go to, woman. Throw your vile guesses in the devil’s teeth, from whence you have them.”
“Funny that you should mention a devil,” Blue Water Woman jousted. “And the answer is no.”
“I did not realize I had asked a question,” Shakespeare said, worried now.
“You intend to go out on the lake after the water devil, and I will not have it. If you will not act your age, at least respect my feelings.”
“When have I ever not?” Shakespeare rallied. “And I can’t catch something that lives in water if I stay on land.”
“Why catch it at all?” Blue Water Woman wanted to know. “Why not let it be?”
“I would hate for a perfectly good steeple to have gone to waste.”
“I am serious.”
“As am I.” Shakespeare thrust out his jaw in defiance. “We cannot go on living here without knowing what it is.”
“Who says? We have lived here this long without knowing. You know that my people believe water devils are bad medicine. Why show them, and me, such disrespect?”
“Honest to goodness,” Shakespeare said in exasperation. “Leave it to a woman to twist a man’s considerate nature into an attack on her.”
“Where is the consideration in you refusing to listen to me?” Blue Water Woman demanded.
“Most excellent accomplished lady,” Shakespeare quoted. “The heavens rain odors on you. When did you become a tyrant?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I am old but I am not puny. I am a man, I have a will, and I will by God breathe as men breathe. If you wanted to marry a milksop you should have found a man who lets you tell him what clothes to wear.”
“You are changing the subject again.”
“No, I am not. The point, dearest tickle-brain, is that were a bear to come nosing around our cabin, you would have me deal with the bear. Were a fox or a coyote to become interested in our chicken coop, you would have me deal with the fox or the coyote. But let something in the lake pose a possible danger, and suddenly I am too old or too feeble or I do not respect your feelings.” Shakespeare came out of his chair. “Look me in the eyes and say that again. Look into the eyes of the man who has given all that he is to make you happy and tell me I am worthless.”
Blue Water Woman swallowed and averted her face. “I cannot.”
“Then there will be no more talk of betrayal,” Shakespeare said. “I have to do it and that is that.”
“Damn you,” Blue Water Woman said, but she said it softly.
“I love you, too, apple of my eye. Now how about breakfast? I cannot fight dragons on an empty stomach.”
First Clash
“What do you think of our craft, Horatio?”
On his knees in the stern, Nate King smoothly stroked his paddle. He had used canoes before, in particular a Shoshone canoe that belonged to Touch the Clouds, his wife’s cousin. The difference between the Shoshone canoe and the Nansusequa canoe was as night and day. The former was small and light and fast and responded superbly to every dip of the paddle; the latter was big and heavy and cumbersome, all of which combined to give it the speed and response of a brick. And because it was so heavy, the gunwales rode low to the water, barely a foot above the surface. A high wave might easily swamp them.
“I didn’t hear you…” Shakespeare McNair prompted.
“It will do,” was the best Nate could come up with.
“I think of everything, if I do say so myself,” Shakespeare crowed. He indicated the net piled between them. “We should practice, so when the moment of truth comes we will be ready.”
“You really expect to catch the thing with that?”
“Why else are we doing this if not to catch it and kill it?” Shakespeare responded.
Nate slowed in his stroking. “I thought you just wanted to learn what it is. What is this talk of killing?”
“Since when do you mind getting rid of an animal that could prove a menace?” Shakespeare rejoined. “You killed that grizzly, remember? And we had to make worm food of those wolverines.”
“The griz tried to break into our cabin, and those wolverines were out for our blood,” Nate noted. “I have no quarrel with this water devil, or whatever it is.”
“You will change your mind. Wait and see.” Shakespeare scanned the lake. They were drawing near where the mallard and the teal had been taken.
“I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty,” Nate teased. Only, now that he thought about it, he recalled that McNair had urged him to slay the grizzly the day they arrived in the valley. Other instances came to mind, leading him to say, “You like to nip danger in the bud, is that it?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Shakespeare admitted. He knew of too many men and women, red and white, who had lost their lives because they did not take a threat seriously enough.
“The water devil does not need nipping,” Nate said. “The thing never comes up on land. We have nothing to
