Wanted

Chapter 33

The first thing Jeremiah did when Wall's wagon had disappeared into the wood, was drag the zinc bathtub inside the cabin. John watched with concerned eyes from the distance, the dog sitting loyally beside him equally curious what Jeremiah was going to do next. When Jeremiah came back outside carrying an empty bucket and heading for the creek, John headed for the hills behind the cabin. He had seen enough.

He spent the rest of the day playing at tracking dangerous animals and fighting imaginary enemies, inspired by the many stories that Matunaagd and Enkoodabooaoo had told him and spurred by the anger he felt about having to move down to Walls' ranch. There were of course no unusual tracks, neither animal nor human, at least not that close to the cabin, and he wasn't allowed to go any further and shouldn't wish for such an encounter anyway, as his bow and arrow was still that of a boy.

Numees had allowed him to use her bow a few times and Matunaagd told him he was making him one just like it. To John' surprise, Matunaagd hadn't taken his weapons away after he had run away but instead told him it was time for him to get real ones. John had been surprised that Jeremiah did not protest, he knew he didn't fully approve. But John couldn't wait. He longed for an opportunity to proof himself as a brave warrior and be given a new name as it was custom for an Indian boy coming of age.

By the time John got back to the cabin the sun had almost disappeared completely. He was a little nervous. He had never stayed out that long before, and then there was the fact that Jeremiah would have wanted him to take a bath, for sure. He never said, but it had been kind of obvious.

No one but the dog was waiting for him outside on the porch which in itself was alarming. So he approached the cabin cautiously, wondering in how much trouble he was going to be in.

Pretending to be a brave returning victoriously after a raid he entered, the dog for some reason remained outside.

The sight that greeted him was somewhat comical, threatening and idyllic all at the same time. In the large bathtub in front of the fireplace sat Enkoodabooaoo, with his body resting against the high back of the metal bath, eyes closed, his elbows lying atop either side of the bath, a cigar in one hand and his long grey hair open and wet hanging down over his shoulders, he was the ultimate picture of peace and tranquillity. He didn't even stir when John came into the room. John was sure that there was no one else in the world that could look so content whenever he chose to.

The air in the room was heavy with moisture and the sweet smell of perfumed soap, a present Sally had made to Numees, who in return parted with one of her many colourful beaded armbands which she gave to Sally.

Jeremiah sat on the bed. With his back against the wall, in a clean shirt and fresh trousers, his still reddish hair cut and combed back, his face clean shaven, he looked up from his book that he held on his legs outstretched in front of him, when John entered the one room cabin. John had to look away when the strict eyes met his, so that he missed when Jeremiah softened his expression on seeing the boy's worried face.

Numees wrapped into a thin blanket sat beside and slightly in front of Jeremiah on the edge of the bed, putting braids into her brother's hair who was sitting on the floor in front of her with his legs crossed, dressed in fresh clothes as well that probably previously belonged to Jeremiah. They too looked up at John, but John avoided their eye contact.

"Oh, there you are," John heard Jeremiah say with a sigh beside him, he didn't sound cross which made John look up again, "I'm glad your back. Are you hungry? We kept you some food, but it's cold." Jeremiah nodded in the direction of the counter where he had put John's plate earlier.

Wondering why they hadn't just left the food in the pot, so it could be heated up later, John looked across to the fireplace where he noticed that the large pot hanging over it was filled to the rim with fresh water that was probably meant for the next person who was to take a bath, namely him, so he didn't say anything.