Legend upon the Cane (5 page)

“
Sleep well, my
little one,” Natchitos replied. He sat beside Taima on the grass
mat floor.

“
You seem
troubled this evening, my husband. Tell me what weighs on your
mind,” Taima said. “What do you think of these white men?” She knew
the years of responsibility had taken its toll on Natchitos, but he
handled each day without complaint. She was always proud of him and
happy that the tribe could live in peace for all these years. But
the coming of the white men troubled her as well, although she
always tried to see the good in everything.

“
I like the
Lieutenant very much,” Natchitos began. “His curiosity has
enlivened my spirit. He has his troubles with his men from time to
time, just as I do, but he handles them well. I think he is on the
right path. There is no need for our people to fear them. But,
other tribes in our land all agree that the white men will keep
coming into our land. We will not be able to trust all of them.
This is what concerns me.”

“
You have always
been the steady provider for us and our children, and a wise leader
for all the Nashitosh,” Taima said in response. “I never worry
about this. If the whites continue to come, we can not change this.
We can only be the people we are. And that is the tribe of the
Nashitosh. That will never change.”

Natchitos smiled at her. He knew
her words would comfort him as usual. “Ah, the true wisdom behind
the chief, that you are!” He kissed the top of her forehead. “Let
us get some sleep.”

“
Yes, let us get
some sleep,” Anoki insisted with his eyes still closed. Taima tried
to hold back her laughter as her husband tossed a deer skin blanket
at him.

Early the next
morning, St. Denis and Jean-Baptiste were standing next to a small
bayou that forked
from the river
towards the west. It was not far from the tribal village. A tall
grove of trees stood nearby with ample shade all around.

Jean-Baptiste said, “This
would be a good place to build a small structure for the trading
post, don’t you think, Louis? The land is flat and the stream gives
ample room to paddle away from the main river traffic.”

“
I agree,” St.
Denis replied. “It is a good spot. But, we must first ask the chief
for his permission. I don’t know yet how he has taken to the idea
of trade with us. He is always reluctant to answer whenever I
broach the subject.”

“
Has he come down
yet from his perch today?” Jean-Baptiste quipped.

“
Governor, be
nice. I admire a man who reserves time for his personal
reflection,” said St. Denis. “I could use a minute here and there
myself, sometimes.”

“
Monsieur
, are you implying
something?” Jean-Baptiste said with a wry smile. “But seriously, it
would be a good opportunity to show the Indians how to build a more
formidable structure and use our modern tools as well.”

“
I will go and
speak with him,” St. Denis said. “I am ready to put the men back to
work.”

By the time they
had made it back to the village, Natchitos had
descended from the hill where he watched the rising
sun. St. Denis had summoned Buffalo Tamer, for he was still not
comfortable with his mastery of the Nashitosh language. They
approached Natchitos. “Chief, my colleague and I are seeking your
permission to build a small hut over by the small bayou
downstream.”

“
Is this where
you wish to live?” Natchitos asked curiously.

“
No,” said St.
Denis. “This is where we would like to set up a trading post to be
used in the future between us, the French, and your people. This
would be the center of trading activity.”

“
Take me to the
site that you have selected,” Natchitos replied.

They walked down the river
to where the bayou flowed towards the west. They stood in the open
area among the tall trees. “Ah, a good choice indeed,” Natchitos
said. “You have my permission, but there is one thing that I ask of
you. I have come to trust you, the French white men. I know your
intentions are good. If you pledge to fortify this hut and help me
protect my people from any other outsiders, I will let you build
this post. This is all I ask.”

St. Denis and Jean-Baptiste both
readily agreed, as they expected such a response. So Natchitos
summoned six of his men to join the soldiers in the building of the
post. Jean-Baptiste oversaw the construction of the building. The
men and the Indians worked together in cutting down trees and
sawing them with tools provided by the soldiers. The Indians
learned quickly and were intrigued to see this new way of building.
After a few days time, the post had already taken shape.
Jean-Baptiste was pleased with their progress.

It was
mid-afternoon on the fourth day and the post was near
completion.
The sun was hot and
the hard work had taken its toll. Jean-Baptiste beckoned the men to
rest after they had something to eat and drink.

LaRouche and Sommer sat
under a large tree dozing in the mid-afternoon. Sommer had his cap
pulled over his eyes. “I can’t tell you how much this tires me,”
LaRouche said with his eyes closed. “I don’t know why we’re
bothering with building this shack out in the middle of nowhere.
Nobody’s going to use this place as a trading post anyway. I know I
wouldn’t.”

“
Quiet down,
Henri, I’m trying to get some sleep here,” Sommer said. “I’ve got
my mind on Lenoire back home.”

“
Dream away, my
friend,” LaRouche responded. “I’ve had enough of this and I don’t
feel like napping either. I’m going for a walk.” So, LaRouche
wandered off into the thick grove of trees. He walked with heavy
thoughts on his mind. Frustration was growing on him as he thought
of his commanding officers barking orders as the men labored away
to assist in the construction of the trading post. To him, they
were just wasting their time with these people.

He walked a little further
and then came upon a footpath. It pointed in the direction of the
river. So he followed it until it came up to a bend. He started to
slow down as he could hear the sound of the water. He could also
hear the sound of women laughing. He stepped off into the brush and
crouched down and slowly crept forward to try and see where the
laughter was. He stretched his head out as far as he could and
finally he saw them. Two Indian women were bathing in the river.
They were in the water, with their backs turned toward him,
laughing and enjoying the cool waters. LaRouche smiled at how his
fortune had changed for the better and so quickly. The younger of
the two women turned her head slightly. He could see her face now
and saw that it was the beautiful young girl from the first night,
Ayita. This was his chance he thought, his chance to make this
journey worthwhile.

He stood up slightly and
took one step forward, when suddenly an arrow zipped in front of
him and pierced the tree right next to him. LaRouche fell back
startled. He stepped back clumsily, tripping over a rock and fell
to the ground. The women grew silent when they heard the noise
behind them. LaRouche tried to scramble to his feet but Tooantuh
jumped down from a nearby tree and pinned him to the ground as he
pointed a spear at his chest.

“
This place is
forbidden to white men!” Tooantuh said angrily. “You must not be
here!” Ayita and Taima were stunned at the intrusion. They remained
in the water and watched warily behind the cover of a tree
log.

“
Hey, I was just
seeing what the noise was in the water,” LaRouche said innocently.
Tooantuh dug the spear deeper into his chest. “Hey, watch it! Let
me go!”

Tooantuh stood over him with
a glare. LaRouche knew he was in trouble. He lay there silently
staring back at Tooantuh. Tooantuh pulled the spear away and let
him stand up. “You must never come to this place again,” he said
still angry. “Go! Away with you!”

Tooantuh turned to walk away
but LaRouche bent down and pulled a dagger from his boot, “You
should have never let me up,” LaRouche muttered under his breath.
He lunged towards Tooantuh with the dagger but stopped in mid-air
when he heard the sound of several bows being pulled taut right
behind him. He slowly turned around and saw four braves pointing
arrows directly at him. Tooantuh stood glaring at him in victorious
defiance. LaRouche dropped the dagger at his feet and held up his
hands. Tooantuh motioned to the braves and they lowered their
arrows. With that, LaRouche ran like the wind towards the
village.

LaRouche ran all
the way back to the building site. He ran past the trees where
Sommer was resti
ng. He stopped
beside a large oak tree trying to catch his breath, leaning on one
arm against the tree.

“
What happened to
you? Why the devil are you running so fast?” asked Sommer. LaRouche
was dripping with sweat. Sommer looked at his friend as if he’d
gone mad.

“
Nothing, leave
me alone,” LaRouche said, gasping for air. He stumbled along the
path towards the building site. The long rest break was over and
the men were resuming their work. He tried to act casually and
picked up a wooden hammer and began working feverishly. He didn’t
want to let on that anything had happened. But he was always
looking over his shoulder after that.

At the same time, the new
post was taking shape and was nearing completion. Jean-Baptiste
stood studying the building plans, and nodded his approval. Then he
heard a voice behind him from a distance, “Governor!” It was St.
Denis, walking up the path with Natchitos. “How is the post coming
along?”

“
Splendidly,”
Jean-Baptiste said with a smile. “The men work well together, it is
almost completed. What do you think, Louis?” The men took a small
break to admire their work along with the officers and the chief.
Natchitos commended his tribesmen on their hard work. LaRouche
spotted Tooantuh, and two of the other braves he had encountered
earlier, coming down the river from the opposite way. He tried to
hide his face and the uneasy feeling that was growing within him.
He knew the incident would be reported soon, if not already.
However, Taima and Ayita were not with them. They were escorted
quietly to the village by another way.

“
This is
excellent work they have done, Governor. You should be pleased,”
St. Denis said in admiration. He patted him on the back and
Jean-Baptiste nodded in agreement.

It had been two
months now since they had landed on the banks of the Cane. Firm
roots had been established with the Nashitosh Indians. St. Denis
and Jean-Baptiste were more than pleased with their progress and
came to like
the Indians and
admired them greatly for their determination and for their
generosity. St. Denis did not, however, want to overstay his
welcome here. He knew the soldiers had grown weary and were eager
to return to their life at Fort St. Jean.

That night, St. Denis made
his way toward the village and approached the warrior standing
guard by the river. He asked if he could speak with Natchitos. He
spoke in the Nashitosh language, which impressed the warrior. He
walked with St. Denis up to the open area where the fire dances
were held. “Wait here,” he said to St. Denis.

A few moments later,
Natchitos appeared from the village. “What do I owe this unexpected
visit, Lieutenant?” he asked.

St. Denis
had come unaccompanied so that he might
test his knowledge of the language alone. “I was wondering if I
could speak to you,” St. Denis responded. “I wish to tell you of
our plans.” Natchitos motioned to him to follow him into his
smoking hut. They sat down across from each other in front of the
fire.
“There always seems to be a
fire burning in this hut,”
St.
Denis thought to himself.

Natchios spoke,
“Some of your words are wrong, but you are learning well.” He
pulled out his calumet from the long leather pouch. “I was thinking
of having a smoke tonight, so I am glad you came. A good smoke and
a good fire are
always best
shared.” St. Denis smiled and nodded in agreement. He lit the
calumet and took a few long puffs on it, then handed it over to St.
Denis. “What would you like to talk about this evening, my
friend?”

St. Denis continued in
Natchitos’ language with broken words, but well enough to
understand, “It is time for me and my men to return to the fort. We
thank you for letting us live in your lands these last few months.”
Natchitos said nothing, but kept smoking on the pipe. “We must go
back for more supplies and give my soldiers some rest. But with
your permission, I would like to return and start to promote trade
in this area at the post we have built.” Natchitos passed him the
pipe as if he had not heard anything St. Denis had said. St. Denis
took a few short puffs on the pipe, but waited impatiently for a
response.

“
The
‘great spirit’ has taught me many
things,” Natchitos began. “I see wisdom in opening our minds to
learn different ways. I am grateful that my people have learned
about your ways. The way of the peaceful man is the way of a just
man. I see this in you.” He took the pipe from St. Denis and took a
few last puffs from it. “I do not know of this place where you
live. Where is it that you will go? Do you live with Indians there
as well?”