Wanted

Chapter 34

This somewhat naïve if not ignorant but at least not entirely hostile conviction was as much as he could manage to keep his heart brave enough to remain open and welcoming that day when the small group of people rode into his ranch, but it was a struggle all the same.

Walls had been wary when he was first introduced to Matunaagd the previous day. The younger man's proud and dignified way, oozed strength, power and a sense of fierceness that made Walls feel the pulsation of his heart in his throat. All he wanted to do was take his family and run. It took a while for him to relax even with Jeremiah and Enkoodabooaoo being there. 

On his travel with Enkoodabooaoo when he and the others from the town were still looking for the boy, the old Indian hadn't shared much. Walls was intrigued by him, he trusted him on accounts of him having saved his boy's life and had a sense that behind those quiet old eyes lay the wisdom of friendship despite being different. Nathan had called him a friend but when asked about it had to admit knew nothing about the old Indian either, other than that he had met him a couple times before when Enkoodabooaoo helped Jeremiah bring logs down to his sawmill. And yet there seemed a connection between the three of them that lay beyond their shared disdain of Edwards and his mates, so that at the picnic Walls felt as if he met an old friend which helped immensely in settling his nerves.

Doubt entered his mind though as soon as they had left, and when he saw the proud warrior and the boy beside him ride into his ranch without Enkoodabooaoo, he got worried all over again.

Riding on Numees' horse, beside Matunaagd, instead of sitting on the wagon with Jeremiah and Numees, with his bow and quiver tied to his back, and wearing the new clothes that Numees had fashioned for him from deerskin and beautifully ornated with coloured beads and porcupine quills, his head held high, everyone could see that John's arrival at Walls' ranch was very different this time around. He looked proud and confident, just like Matunaagd beside him.

At least on the outside he did.

For on the inside, John was just as nervous as everyone else if not more so. He tried to focus on his feeling of pride and belonging. He tried to be brave, truly brave, not just hiding his fear, truly believing he was going to be okay one way or another despite the threat, so that fear would lose all its power. He knew he was strong because he was no longer alone, he was part of something bigger.

There was of course also the thing that Jeremiah had said about Walls boys and John wanted to give them a clear message with his stance, 'don't be messin' with me lads! I'm an Indian!"

And it certainly had the desired effect. Carl and Bert, and even Alfred a little, looked up at John in curious awe, if not jealousy, which in itself was a little amusing, Jeremiah felt. He had been worried that Walls' children would look down on John and would judge his outfit as ridiculous, that they might snigger at him. God knows that children don't always hold back on how they perceive things to be, especially if their perception is clouded by the judgements of the adults around them. But the children didn't seem to mind, it was the adults that looked somewhat perplexed. Walls' eyes were full of worry, which made Jeremiah wish he hadn't changed his clothes. It wouldn't make the boy stand out so much.

On Jeremiah's last trip to the city, he had felt uncomfortably gawked at. Not that he minded all that much, but it was a sign that times were changing quickly. There weren't many men like him left in these mountains, which probably wasn't a bad thing considering how they had ransacked it.

For years living in the mountains more or less on his own, Jeremiah had been wearing clothes made from deerskin not quite as beautifully ornated but similar to the ones John was wearing now. He had traded them for some furs of an old Indian woman married to the owner of one of the last fort trading posts in the area, he had visited on occasions. She had poked fun at the pitiful state of the rudimentary clothes he had managed to make himself after his old army uniform had quickly started to fall apart.