In his winter travels along the rivers in that long winding valley, Jojo had found ice obstructing canoe passage only twice, and the plateau where the Tsimshian encamped during the winter was seldom, if ever, snowbound. But he knew that if it was, it would be disastrous for their quest, and not just because of the dangers of the cold.
Survival in a winter shelter would not be a problem, nor would the winter starvation that killed many travelers trapped by blizzards. They could forage easily. The deep rivers forming and emanating from Three Spirits were bountiful with edible life, and the winter cold made it less likely for them to encounter wolves, bear, or cougar, although he had seen plenty during this time of the year in the past.
It was being late for the potlatch that would hurt them.
The first two days bode well for their passage. Jojo was pleased and told Emmy that if they made as much progress, taking them past the big gorges forty miles upstream without encountering snow, they would likely arrive a few days before the potlatch. That would give them the opportunity to meet with Ksi Amawaal and possibly have the shrewd tyee himself do the negotiating on their behalf, without the slavers knowing who was really doing the asking.
While making camp on the third day, Jojo pulled Emmy aside. “If your son is with other slaves . . . if the Northerners show up to do trading and he is with them . . . it is best that you not be seen. Because that will show them the value of your son. They may not know his family is looking for him.” He saw Emmy consider her alternatives.
“I may have already betrayed the secrecy you wanted, Jojo,” she told him. “I asked the innkeeper to spread the word about this search. For all I know, he might have told listeners that it was being commissioned by a naive white woman carrying a sizeable reward.”
Jojo nodded quietly, troubled at this news.
“Will this Tsimshian tyee take advantage of us?” Emmy asked, breaking the silence.
“Ksi Amawaal is honest, but he is also very clever, Mrs. Evers. I have watched him trade with the Brits and with trappers. He is known for always winning.”
“Will he help us?”
“He will understand the value your son brings right away. If we ask him to do so, he will take the chests you bring and all the gold you carry, consider its value, and will offer half of it to the Northerners for all their slaves, making them think he wants to give the slaves as gifts to his family and guests during the potlatch.”
“I don’t really care if he offers all of it to them,” Emmy said.
Jojo shook his head. “The slavers may be insulted at the offer because they know the slaves are very valuable, but they will not fight with anyone while they are there. Ksi Amawaal will argue loudly for his position, but I have seen him do this with others—it will be a bluff.” He laughed.
“It will be his game,” Jojo continued, “and he likes to play like this. After he calms the Northerners down, he will make them another offer, and then, to show off his wealth to all the guests and visitors during the potlatch, he will reduce what he asks for the same amount he offered. You will get your son. He will get half the gold. Everyone will see him to be a wealthy and generous tyee, and the slavers will go away thinking they have outsmarted him—but only if they do not know he is acting as a trader on your behalf.”
He saw Emmy pondering and then brighten a bit over what he predicted would happen.
Then, as if to dampen the brief glimmer of hope he sensed he had given her, with a solemn, sad expression, Jojo said, “But, if they discover us before we reach the Three Spirits, if they know you are there—carrying gold—the Northerners will come after us, kill me, and take you and your daughter as slaves. If they do not kill you, too.”
Jojo watched Emmy’s reaction to his words. She was quietly nodding, looking up at the darkening sky, and by that, he saw Emmy understood that this would be much more complicated than she had expected.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
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Anah
Anah had given Little Raven the footstool he knew he deserved. Word had come from the south that he had indeed delivered the right and vengeful coup by taking the head of a grand tyee. He had also captured the tyee’s only son. Still not understanding the ultimate value of this child, he thus held back on what he might have otherwise done to any other white captive.
There were other reasons for Anah’s restraint.
Three days after his canoes reached the Campbell, a small three-masted ship flying a Portuguese flag anchored in the tight harbor off the river.
On the shore of the rocky beach, Anah and Klixuatan displayed their ware - thirteen bedraggled female and four male captives, all taken in Northerner raids up and down the Vancouver coast and Puget Sound straits against native and settler encampments over the previous five months.
Four armed Europeans landed in the first boat while the sailors in a second boat kept off shore, far enough out of reach of the Haida, that the trading goods in it would safe. On the beach, the ship’s mate, a tall, thin, swarthy man, conducted the Portuguese bartering with the help of an old Tlingit translator.
“Has he ruined all of these, as he did with the batch we purchased two years ago?” the mate asked the translator, while inspecting each of the women, lifting up their skirts as he did so.
“He wants to know if Anah has
