Venom

Emala fanned her neck with her hand. “Land sakes, it’s powerful hot under here. It’s like standin’ on the sun.”

“The forge has to be hot or the metal won’t melt,” Nate said.

“We found us a spot,” Emala told him. “We’d like for you to come have a look-see and tell us what you think.”

Nate undid his apron and set it aside. He took his Hawken from where he had propped it. “Show me.”

They headed north along the lake. Nate held his Hawken with the barrel across his shoulder, his hand on the stock.

Emala nodded at the rifle. “You don’t go anywhere without that, do you, Mr. King?”

“It’s Nate, remember? And no, not if I care to go on breathing.”

“Those things are too heavy for me. My arms get tired. I’d rather go without.”

“You get used to it.”

Emala regarded the wooded slopes high above. “I wonder if I’ll ever get used to any of this.”

“It’s our home,” Samuel said.

“So you keep remindin’ me. But not yet it ain’t. Not until I have my very own cabin. Which reminds me, how’s that goin’ to work, exactly, Mr. King? I mean, Nate?”

“We will all pitch in and help build it,” Nate explained. “Raising a cabin, it’s called.”

“I never been to one of those.”

Nate noticed a pair of doves in flight. He had always liked doves. His uncle once told him that when they mated it was for life. If one or the other died, the survivor never took another. He never did learn whether that was true.

“Mr. King?”

Nate glanced over. Samuel was studying him, his brow furrowed. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been meanin’ to ask you somethin’ and I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

“Ask away,” Nate said.

Emala had an inkling what her husband was curious about. They’d talked about it just the night before. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Samuel asked.

“People put out a hand to help, you should accept it and that should be that,” Emala said.

Nate asked, “What is this about?”

“You. Your wife. Your family. Your friends,” Samuel ran off a list. “But mostly you and your wife.”

“What did we do?”

“That’s just it,” Samuel said. “What haven’t you done? From the moment we met you, you folks have treated us kindly and gone out of your way to do us favors.”

“For which we’re grateful as can be,” Emala said.

“That we are,” Samuel concurred. “When we first met you all we had was the clothes on our backs, and you bought us new clothes and gave us guns and protected us all the way here.”

“Your point?” Nate was unsure what they were leading up to.

“My point is a question,” Samuel said. “What I would like to know is why. Why did you and your wife do all those things? And why are you still goin’ out of your way to help us?”

“Because you needed our help then, and you need our help now,” Nate answered.

“But we were strangers. More than that, we’re black and you’re white. We’re used to whites lookin’ down their noses at us, not treatin’ us as equals. I thought you were up to somethin’ but you weren’t. You were just bein’ you.”

“I was being me when I took Winona for my wife. You might have noticed that she’s not white, either.”

“So skin means honest-to-God nothin’ to you?”

“It’s not a person’s color, it’s the person inside,” Nate said. “Winona isn’t white, but she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. I love her more than I love anything.”

Nothing more was said until they came to the spot Emala had picked. Nate walked in a circle and said, “There’s plenty of flat ground for a good-size cabin, and you’re close enough to the lake that it won’t be too much of a chore fetching water.”

“What about that?” Emala nodded toward the gully. “Do we need to worry it will flood if it rains heavy?”

Nate shook his head. “Even if it does, your cabin will be far enough away to be safe.” He smiled and nodded. “I think you’ve chosen a fine spot for your new home. You shouldn’t have any problems at all.”

Chapter Eight

The cabin raising got underway.

First the flat area was cleared of rocks and everything else. Nate and Shakespeare measured and pounded stakes at the four corners and strung rope between the stakes as guidelines. The foundation stones were laid. Then came the felling of the trees. Cottonwoods and firs were too slender. Spruce was scattered here and there near the site, and there were plenty of oaks, but the tree Nate liked best were pines. Pines were abundant and there were enough of them near the same size.

Nate and Shakespeare and Zach all owned axes. Nate owned two, and lent his extra to Samuel. Nate picked a cluster of trees and set to work. With each stroke his ax bit deep and sent chips flying.

Shakespeare was an old hand at felling trees, and Zach had learned from his father.

Samuel had never used an ax in his life. On the plantation most of his work had been in the cotton fields, and you didn’t chop cotton with an ax. He watched them, then imitated what they were doing. He soon found it wasn’t as easy as they made it seem. He swung hard enough, but his ax didn’t go in as far and he wasn’t making much headway.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder.

“Watch me,” Nate said. He showed how to grip the ax and how to swing at an angle so the blade penetrated. “You turn your hips as you swing and put your shoulders into it.”

Samuel tried it a few times and smiled at his improvement. “I’m obliged,” he said.

Nate wasn’t done. “Another thing is that when you pull the ax back, don’t jerk it. Swing and pull back smoothly the moment the ax has gone in as far as it will go. That way you don’t jar your body and wear yourself out. It’s a steady motion.” He demonstrated. “See?”

“Let me try.” Samuel stepped to the trunk and planted himself and swung. The ax became wedged and he had to tug to work it free. “What did I do wrong?”

“You swung too hard. Take easier strokes and let the ax do most of the work.”

It wasn’t long before Samuel got the hang of it, but once he did he went at it with fierce desire. These were the logs for his new home and he couldn’t wait to have it done.

Tree after tree crashed down. The women and Evelyn and the Nansusequas used hatchets to trim the branches and threw them into a pile.

Shortly before noon Winona and Blue Water Woman and Lou stopped trimming to set out the midday meal. Blankets were spread, as if it were a picnic, and food they had prepared the night before was placed on the blankets. There was venison and potatoes and green beans and carrots, plus a pie Lou had baked.

The Nansusequas had brought rabbit stew. Waku and Dega came to Nate and offered to hunt meat for the supper pot and Nate said that would be a great help. He was resting on a stump. Winona walked over with a glass of water and smiled and handed it to him.

“You look thirsty.”

Nate was sweating from head to toe. “I could drink the lake dry,” he boasted.

Evelyn joined them and asked, “Do you need me for anything?”

“You can help trim more branches when the men go back to work,” Winona said. “Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to go hunt with Dega.”

Nate lowered the glass. “You?”