Klixuatan and the other Northerners quietly backed away behind Marté. And then, in one swift motion, Anah drew his knife and leaped high at Cull, plunging his blade deeply into the man’s neck and downward into his chest.
As Cull collapsed, Anah whirled and pulled his blade across Marté’s throat.
Marté fell across Cull.
Wiping his knife on Marté’s back, Anah stood and then spit on their bodies.
Later that afternoon, Klixuatan returned with gold and other goods he had traded in exchange for the seven other captives. They struck camp and began preparations to move westward.
Safely hidden, Jojo watched them load their canoes and throw the trappers’ remains into the river.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
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Jojo
Jojo, Emmy and Sarah followed the four canoes from a safe distance, and fortunately, because the rain was constant now, visibility upstream was limited.
By the way the Northerners moved swiftly downstream, Jojo knew they were eager to depart the Tsimshian stronghold before anyone discovered who they really were. He knew Anah likely had what he wanted and almost certainly had assumed that Ksi Amawaal would behave as he, Anah, would have behaved himself, keeping the gold and killing the whites.
The river was moving swiftly now, and the ice had all but melted. They soon passed the shoal where they had escaped the bear. Thirty miles farther downstream, Jojo pulled them ashore to rest.
He moved into the woods and, a few miles downstream, found the Northerners encamped, all nine in their party huddled around one fire. Jojo watched for over an hour until all the men had moved under the canoes to sleep.
“I can see Jacob. There are no other captives, he told Emmy and Sarah on his return.
“How is he?” they both asked.
“He is not moving.”
“What do you mean? Is he sick?”
“He is gagged and tied and is being carried by the shaman.”
Jojo saw Emmy draw in a deep breath, then, as Sarah pulled close to her, lift up her head and recover.
“What is your plan, Jojo?” Emmy asked.
“We will need to follow them for another day. They are moving fast, and they will be close to Fort Simpson in less than two days. Tomorrow night we will move ahead past them and get soldiers from the fort to intercept them.”
“What if they move inland to avoid the fort?” asked Emmy hesitantly. “We will miss them then.”
Jojo nodded, considering the pain he heard in Emmy’s voice. He did not have an answer for her.
The next morning, they moved slowly down the stream, until Jojo pulled them aside a half-mile above the Haida camp and reconnoitered again.
Inspecting the ashes left from the fire on the shore, he knew the raiders had left at least an hour beforehand.
They followed again carefully, pulling aside frequently to allow Jojo to scout for a trap and prevent a blunder into Anah’s camp. The second night, he returned to Emmy and Sarah after three hours.
“They moved downstream much closer to the fort than I thought they would,” he told them. “They have moved their canoes up to the woods and are preparing to portage them and bypass the fort starting in the morning. That will slow them down, but we do not have time to wait until they are asleep and get to the fort in our canoe. I can get past them to the fort, but it will have to be on foot. Alone. You must wait here with Sarah for me to return.”
“And if they leave before you get back?” Emmy asked.
Jojo saw a fierce woman staring intensely at him.
“You must stay here,” he said. “You must wait for me to return with the soldiers. You will be safe here.”
Emmy and Sarah both were crying.
“How is Jacob now?” Sarah asked anxiously.
“He is drugged, most likely. I think that is why he is not moving. And they have him tethered to a tree,” Jojo said.
He saw his words were not reassuring to the women. “They are drinking whiskey. Much whiskey. They think they are safe from the Tsimshian. They are very drunk now. They will not be up early. I will be back in time, Missus Evers.”
Five minutes later, in the midst of another downpour and in black, cold darkness, Jojo departed for his run to the fort. He ached from the run, and the relentless rain had seeped through his sealskin, penetrating enough that his arms and legs were starting to numb.
As he pushed himself quietly through the forest, hoping he was far enough away to skirt the camp with some safety but close enough to the sound of the river to keep his bearings, he thought about the futility of it all if he did not succeed in his run to the fort—if he was too late, if Jacob was dying, or if Jacob was worse off because of the brutality of his experience by Anah.
Jojo thought about that ignorant, insane rogue, of Anah’s arrogance he had witnessed during the man’s negotiation with Ksi Amawaal, and the warrior’s cold, smooth murder of Marté and Cull. He thought about how some of the tribes he’d encountered during his travels with his father were savage and uncontrolled, but remembered that MaNuitu ’sta had taught him those tribes that had endured long enough to develop a culture around families had learned ways to control their young men and women.
But Anah was such a dominating monster, Jojo surmised that he really had never been controlled in any way by whomever had raised him. No comeuppance, no responsibility to anything other than unbridled passion. There was a failure in that clan’s culture, and the very thing that likely had given it strength — the far-reaching terrifying reputation of Anah — almost certainly had caused the clan to rot from the inside out.
Jojo had seen that by how all of the other men in his party watched Anah move and deferred to his slightest gestures. He was like a mean, rogue bear heading a pack of hungry dogs.
Jojo wondered whether
