Nate was doing the same.
The shore was impossibly far away. They would never reach it in time. Desperate to keep from being rammed, Shakespeare stopped paddling and swooped his hand to his waist.
“What are you doing?”
Shakespeare did not answer. He whipped out a flintlock and thumbed back the hammer. He aimed for the front of the swell, for where he figured the creature’s head would be.
Nate froze with his paddle partway raised. A ‘No!’ was on the tip of his tongue, but he did not give voice to the shout.
Shakespeare fired. At the blast the pistol spewed smoke and lead. He thought he saw the slug strike the water. But the swell—and the creature—kept coming. He grabbed for his other pistol, determined to stop it if he could. As his fingers wrapped around the hardwood, a miracle occurred: the swell changed direction and passed within spitting distance of their canoe.
Nate was mesmerized. He longed to see the creature clearly, but all he saw was moving water and a dark silhouette. He caught sign of a fin, or imagined he did, and then the thing was past and the swell was rapidly dwindling as its source dived for the depths. The hissing faded. In seconds there was nothing to mark the creature’s passage beyond ripples and a few frothy bubbles.
“That was close,” Shakespeare said, exhaling in relief.
“You wounded it or scared it off,” Nate said, grateful whichever the case might be.
“Did you get a good look at it?”
“No. Did you?”
“Would that I had.”
“All that we just went through and we still have no idea what we are up against.”
“If it had struck us…” Nate let the statement dangle.
“Our broken bodies would have washed up on shore in a day or two and my wife would get to tell mine she told me so,” Shakespeare said with a grin. Sobering, he lowered the pistol he had not realized he was still pointing at the water. “Do you still doubt that it is dangerous?”
“It can be,” Nate allowed. “But so long as we stay off the lake, we should be fine.”
“Then I take it you are going to ride over to Waku’s and tell him and his family they can’t fish anymore. And after that, you will go over to your son’s and inform Zach and Lou that there will be no more swimming or bathing in the lake. Winona and Evelyn will need to—”
“I get the point,” Nate broke in.
“So what will it be? Do we let the critter alone, or do we make the lake safe for us and our kin? What wouldst thou of us, Trojan?”
“I am from Troy now?”
Shakespeare quoted, “A true knight, not yet mature, yet matchless; firm of word, speaking in deeds, and deedless in his tongue; not soon provoked, nor being provoked soon calmed.” He paused. “Have you been provoked, sir? Is it war or is it peace?”
“It is war,” Nate King said.
The King Valley Water Devil Society
“What are you up to, wench?”
Blue Water Woman gave her husband an innocent look and said, “I have no idea what you mean.”
“From the extremist upward of thy head to the descent and dust below thy foot, a most toad-spotted traitor,” Shakespeare quoted.
“You think that you know what this is about?”
“Methink’st thou art a general offense and every man should beat thee,” Shakespeare said testily.
The sun was low in the western sky, and they were making their way along the shore toward the King cabin. At Blue Water Woman’s insistence they were walking instead of riding. Shakespeare did not mind, as it was not far, and it was good to have ground under his feet after his harrowing experience on the lake. He happened to gaze to the northwest and noticed two people in the distance approaching hand in hand along the west shore.
“What’s this? Zach and Lou are on their way to Nate’s, too? Did Winona invite them as well?”
“All I know,” Blue Water Woman said, “is that she invited us to supper. Beyond that, your guess, as whites like to say, is as good as mine.”
“You speak with a forked tongue, woman,” Shakespeare grumbled. “You are up to something. You and Winona both. But I am telling you in advance that whatever it is, it won’t work.”
“My, my,” Blue Water Woman said. “We can add predicting the future to your many talents.”
“More of your conversation would infect my brain,” Shakespeare quoted. He had more to say, but just then he glanced over his shoulder and beheld five figures in green hurrying along the water’s edge from the east. “Look yonder. Waku and his family are coming, too.” He glared at his wife. “What is this? You and Winona have invited everyone in the valley.”
“It is their home as well as ours,” Blue Water Woman said. “They should take part in important matters.”
“Aha!” Shakespeare erupted, pointing a finger at her. “I knew it! Blasts and fogs upon thee!”
“I like fog,” Blue Water Woman teased. “Walking in it is like walking in a cloud.”
“You are not worth the dust which the rude wind blows in your face.”
“And you would know about wind, one I love, as you are as big a bag of air as any man ever born.”
Shakespeare nearly tripped over his own feet in his surprise. It was rare for her to thrust so directly. “Well now. So it is pistols at twenty paces. But in a battle of wits I am taking advantage of you, as you are unarmed.”
“A fool go with thy soul, whither it goes.”
Shakespeare stopped cold. “My God. You just quoted the Bard to
“I have not lived with you all these winters, listening to you recite him day in and day out, without picking up a few of his sayings.”
“That was beautiful. Do that to night under the sheets and I will show you why they call me Carcajou.”
“You are hopeless,” Blue Water Woman said, and walked on.
Evelyn King was waiting to greet them. She hugged Blue Water Woman and pecked Shakespeare on the cheek. “Ma had me wait out here to welcome everyone. This will be fun. We haven’t had everyone all together in a spell.”
“Why did your mother ask us here?” Shakespeare inquired.
“You will have to wait and find out with the rest,” Evelyn said, and gave his hand a tender squeeze. “She told me to say that. She said you would pester me if I didn’t.”
“Females! Their tongues outvenom all the worms of the Nile.”
“I am a female, Uncle Shakespeare.”
“Yes, girl. But you are young and innocent yet. Deceit has not found lodgement in your veins.”
“Are you saying that all females are deceitful?”
“Never in a million years, child. Only those who live and breathe.”
Blue Water Woman smiled wearily at Evelyn. “You must forgive him. When he was an infant he was dropped on his head.”
Evelyn laughed cheerfully. “I love how you two can poke fun at one another and not get mad.”
“He does most of the poking,” Blue Water Woman said.
Shakespeare wondered if she meant what he thought she meant. For all her meekness, her wit was every whit as sharp as his, and she was not above thrusting deep when the occasion called for it. Coughing, he said, “How about if we go on in? I would like to find out what all this is about.”
“Go ahead,” Evelyn said, “but the finding out will have to wait.”
“Why?”
