The Indians had decided to stay, for at least until Enkoodabooaoo was going to return.
"Why is that?" John wanted to know.
Jeremiah shrugged. "They wouldn't tell me. I know they are from the same tribe originally. There's not many left of them, so I suppose they have questions for him," Jeremiah said, they were almost finished their work in the barn.
"Did they all starve? Like you said to Edwards? On accounts of the buffalo being gone? Is that why there's not many left of them?" John asked.
Being hungry was something John could relate to and not only because he had been brought up on the stable diet of stories about the Irish Famine.
Jeremiah remained silent for a little while. He wasn't sure what to say. The story was gruesome, and it was not his story to tell, he felt.
"That too, I suppose, but there wasn't many left to begin with. Sixteen years ago, their village was attacked by soldiers one night. Major Baker was the man in command. It happened about 300 miles from here, at the Marias River, close to the Canadian Border. It was wintertime then. Matunaagd and Numees would have been young children at the time. Enkoodabooaoo and the other warriors were out on a hunt. When they came back, they found most of their families slaughtered. Those who survived fled to Fort Benton, but of those a lot died on the way. Many were wounded and it was too cold to be travelling. Enkoodabooaoo has been on his own ever since, chose not to go with them. His entire family was wiped out that night. He blamed himself," Jeremiah ended telling John more than he wanted to.
"Why did the soldiers do that?" John asked.
"I am not sure to be honest. Some cock and bull story over stolen horses and a feud between a small band of Indians and a fur trader turned rancher I believe. It caused other white folks in the area to worry and ask the army to put a stop to it. They were supposed to go after the band of Indians but attacked a village with mainly women and children instead. I left the army after that," Jeremiah said.
"You weren't part of it, were you?" John asked horrified at the thought of it.
"Good Heavens, no. I only arrived at Fort Ellis a few weeks later, but I wasn't going to serve under Baker's command. It was not what I signed up for," Jeremiah said.
"What did you sign up for?" John wanted to know.
Jeremiah sighed. It had been a long day and he had spent most of it in the company of the boy. 'Questions, on top of more questions, all day long,' he mused as he had to think of his German mentor, who used to complaint about him, "Der frägt mir noch Löcher in den Bauch," he heard him complain in his mind's ear, apparently Germans don't pick each other's brains but put holes into each other's bellies.
"Enough questions, for today boy, get back to work, and give them horses their water," Jeremiah ordered as he walked out of the barn, leaving the boy a little dejected. He liked to believe that he didn't mind telling the boy about his past, but he had answered enough question for one day and needed a break.
They had settled into a routine that was determined by the rising and falling of the sun, the weather and the work that needed to be done around the ranch and inside the house.
During the first few days and weeks, the boy worked mainly alongside Jeremiah, almost in total silence. The boy rarely said anything, asked no questions, and usually answered everything with a nod or a shake of the head, or shrug of the shoulders or a word or two in the case of questions that required more than a simple yes or no. Jeremiah did not really mind, he liked his peace and quiet.
It did make the writing of the letter to his friend back East somewhat difficult however. In the end all he could or would tell Jeremiah about his mother was her name, that her birthday fell in the wintertime, when there was snow outside between Christmas and New year. Her approximate age John estimated at maybe 35, but Jeremiah wasn't sure if this was an in any way correct estimation. The boy had guessed Jeremiah's own age at 60 which he tried to not be insulted by, he was only 46. He could tell him that his mother was from Ireland but couldn't say which county or even province. He was able to tell him the name of the station he got on the train where he was handed back to McManus and the name of the couple where his brothers still lived. He told him his mother worked as a waitress but couldn't or wouldn't tell him the names of the saloon or restaurant, only that her place of employment was situated in the Five Point Area and that up until their place burnt down, they lived on Mulburry street in one of the tenements there. He wouldn't or couldn't tell him how long they'd been homeless before his mother disappeared and volunteered no information on how or where he lived after that. He gave no or had no information whatsoever on his father. It was not much to go by but more than he initially thought, and he hoped his friend was resourceful enough to find out something, anything and that this something was something he wanted the boy to know. He hadn't been in touch with his friend for almost two decades, which made him worry he might not hear back from him at all. Once the letter was written and sent off however, John became more cheerful and energetic it seemed.
John still didn't volunteer any information about himself, but he had plenty of questions about everyone else, God and the world. One question always led to another and the answer was never enough. John loved to listen to stories from the past, about interesting people and places. It seemed he had an insatiable thirst for knowledge of all kind. The more relaxed he became around Jeremiah the more questions he asked, and for his part Jeremiah generally did not mind answering them although it got tiring after a while, and he wished he had a library to hand to sometimes check if the stories he presented as historical facts to the boy were actually correct.
At this stage Jeremiah started to spend time with giving John some more formal lessons inside the cabin as well, working on his reading and maths skills. They were limited though by the lack of books and papers available to them. At first he used the only two books he had kept with him all those years, both by Tolstoy but found that neither of them was appropriate and suitable for the developing mind of a young and uneducated child. So his main 'reader' was the weekly chronicle he picked up when he made his weekly trip to Salesville to the post office and a farmers' almanac, that Jeremiah was still in the process of reading himself. Worryingly at this stage the boy with his limited knowledge from the time he had served on the two farms seemed to know more about farming than Jeremiah and the Indians put together. Not everything in this was useful either but more appropriate than Anna Karenina for sure.
The boy was as good a student as he was a worker, and bright too, he picked things up quickly but to Jeremiah' surprise and maybe grievance, John seemed to have developed a dislike to being on his own. Whenever Jeremiah gave him a task or job to do that he felt the boy should be able to do on his own the boy rushed it and immediately afterwards sought him out for more instructions or maybe just his company. Oftentimes when Jeremiah then checked on the work, he found it wasn't done to the high enough standard he insisted on and had to ask him to do it again, which the boy took to heart like nothing else. He seemed to live for Jeremiah's approval and went to pieces whenever he scolded him.
The boy wanted to do a good job, he truly did. But his tendency to rush things combined with an unhelpful disregard for any physical danger made him approach every job full on like a bull chasing the cloth in a Spanish bullfight. When he finally became more relaxed around the horses, Jeremiah had to watch him like a hawk, here his tunnel vision and his tendency to go at full speed was downright dangerous.
Jeremiah quickly found out that he never could just assign him chores and leave him to it, he had to be beside him every step of the way breaking every job down into small and manageable pieces. The boy liked to be helpful as well, so whenever Jeremiah gave him free time the boy either hung around him until he gave him a new assignment or John found something to occupy his mind and hands with himself, which didn't always end well. So Jeremiah kept him close by as much as he could bare it. Of course, John would have happily worked alongside him all day without complaint, but Jeremiah was simply not able for this. He was a man used to his own company, used to work at his own pace and own agenda. He liked to work in peaceful silence yet the only thing that seemed to calm the boy's spirit were the stories or lessons he would entertain him with while they worked.
So in the beginning, things settled for John but for Jeremiah not so much. Being host to two Indians and an eleven-year-old boy who got spunkier by the day, was not what he had signed up for when he chose this life so far away from civilisation where he had come to appreciate the peace and tranquillity he had found in the foothills of the Gallatin canyon, in the solitude of his own mind. A distant memory it seemed reduced to mere moments which he could only enjoy when he managed to steal them back from his visitors by taking his pouch of tobacco to the privacy of the outhouse.
"Are you smoking in there?" the boy called out to Jeremiah.
Jeremiah sighed. He'd found him again.
"That's so gross," John added.
"Yep," Jeremiah replied quietly with a sigh and an eyeroll the boy could not see.
"So why do you do it?" John called from the other side of the door, where he had sat himself down with the back against the door.
"What do you want John?" Jeremiah asked with feigned patience.
"I hate him," John spat.
"Who, John? Who do you hate?" Jeremiah asked even though he knew already who the boy was talking about.
"That good for nothing Indian," John spat.
"They are strong words to describe a man who you owe more than you ever can repay. I seem to recall you telling me last week he saved your arse from a lifetime of misery," Jeremiah scolded him gently, being slightly amused by John's assertion. "By the way, you still haven't told me what actually happened between you and Edwards."
John ignored that last comment.
"How am I supposed to find out how to make it up to him, if that lazy bastard doesn't want me anywhere near him?" John asked angrily.
Jeremiah opened the door and looked at the boy with his raised eyebrow. Bashful the boy lowered his head, so again Jeremiah did not tell him off but sooner or later he needed to have a serious talk with the boy about the language he was using. It was in no way okay.
This had been going on for quite some time now. Whenever Jeremiah didn't make himself available to him, John hung around Matunaagd to find some way to 'help' him and make it up to him for the blow on the nose he gave him and having saved him in general. Matunaagd however, was not impressed and simply gave him the cold shoulder. And the longer this went on, the more malcontent John became with the Indian's ways.
He had started to complaint to Jeremiah about Matunaagd's perceived laziness. John had noticed that whenever Matunaagd went hunting, he left his sister to do all the 'hard' work afterwards when he came back. Jeremiah could see where the boy was coming from. Numees had no problem with going hunting alongside her brother and doing 'man's work' herself, helping around the horses was also something she seemed to like doing, but despite that she was still left to deal with all the 'women's work' nevertheless. She was the one that cleaned the animals out, skinning and preserving them afterwards. Besides that, she was also the one that cooked the meals, cleaned, mended and washed their clothes. She had even taken over some of the chores inside Jeremiah's cabin. Jeremiah had not asked her to, and even tried to stop her, but she wouldn't hear of it. They were no freeloaders she had told him and saw it as her duty to do her share. In the evening when they sat inside the cabin around the fireplace smoking and sharing stories, she was still busy, sewing bags, pouches, clothes whatever there was she could keep herself busy with. Her latest venture was weaving baskets from the grasses she had collected down by the creek. She didn't like to be idle it seemed.
It wasn't true that Matunaagd was lazy, he cut wood, helped him with the horses, exercise the yearlings and started to break in his stallion, something Jeremiah did not even think was possible, but as with the hunting, in John's eyes, this did not compare to the tedious work Numees was doing. As far as he was concerned Matunaagd was having fun and maybe he wasn't even that far off. Jeremiah however was wondering if John's grievances didn't have more to do with the fact that he wasn't allowed to go hunting with them which was as much Mutanaagd's as Jeremiah's decision. Jeremiah was still worried about soldiers in the area and would have preferred if Matunaagd himself would stay on the ranch as well.
"What happened?" Jeremiah asked.
"He roared at me," John said sullenly, turning his back to Jeremiah, trying to hide the fact that he had been crying a little. Matunaagd had scared him this time.
"Why?" Jeremiah enquired patiently.
"How do I know? He was fishing and all I did was watch him. I was real quiet, honest I was, and next thing he came charging out of the water at me roaring like a grizzly bear being chased by a swarm of wasps," he looked at Jeremiah, "he's gone mad I tell you."
"Huh," Jeremiah just went suppressing his amusement. He had a good idea what happened here. Matunaagd only recently had asked him to reign the boy in but Jeremiah just didn't have the heart to tell him to stop following Matunaagd around yet, not least because he enjoyed the brief periods of time that this would keep the boy out of his own hair but also because it was nice to see the boy had become more relaxed around them all. In a matter of only a few weeks he had gone from a boy who jumped at the slightest hint of danger from either of the two men to being at ease around them.
"I bet he just doesn't want me to see," John said pouting.
"See what?"
"How he catches the fish, of course. I've been watching him for ages. Not once have I seen him actually catch a fish. Have you? Just stands there in the cold water trying to catch a fish with his bare hands. I bet he can't do it and doesn't want to let on he is using a fishing rod like the rest of us when nobody is looking."
Jeremiah had to chuckle. He knew what the problem was. There was nothing wrong with Matunaagd's fishing skills. In fact if it hadn't been for Matunaagd's fishing and hunting skills Jeremiah would have started to worry about their provisions in the long run. The problem was John. He'd do cartwheels at the bank of the creek or jump from stone to stone in the shallow water occasionally falling in. Jeremiah had only been surprised that Matunaagd's patience hadn't run out sooner. He'd even seen John engage in pretend battles with imaginary enemies at the bank of the creek, letting out the occasional battle cries in play when he got tired sitting still watching Matunaagd who only a few feet away from him was trying to fish.
Matunaagd obviously had finally given up on Jeremiah to provide the solution, so he sorted the problem himself.
"Why don't you help Numees with her work, since you think he should be helping her more and is not pulling his weight. Two flies in one. You owe her as much as you owe him if you think about it," Jeremiah suggested.
"You want me to do women's work?" John asked, looking at Jeremiah in disgust and sounding insulted.
"Yeah, why not," Jeremiah deadpanned, "you always say you want to learn how to survive out here on your own don't you? If you are on your own and have no woman around, there is no such thing, there is just work. Who do you think skinned my kill, cooked my meals and did my washing before you guys came along? You always say she shouldn't have to do it all by herself?"
To Jeremiah' surprise this was all that was needed. John took his advice and started to spend his time between helping Numees with her chores and working alongside Jeremiah the rest of the day. And this brought relieve to them all. Numees' patience for the boy seemed endless, involving him in everything she did. At first Jeremiah thought the patience came from the fact that the boy could not drive her mad with his endless questions but this was not the case. In fact she encouraged his questions and started to teach John her language beginning by naming the plants and animals, tools and in general running a commentary to everything she was doing and John inadvertently helped her improve her English in return as he did the same.
She had a calming influence on the boy as she took him along on long walks to set snares or gather herbs, berries and edible roots. The delicate crafts like sewing and beading done alongside her, helped John to focus and slow down as well. Like Matunaagd, Numees too ignored Jeremiah's advice to stay close to the ranch, telling him that she would be well able to defend herself if necessary and laughed at the mere idea that a white man could sneak up on her without her noticing him first. In the end, Jeremiah gave up trying to convince them. They took no notice of him anyway, and eventually Matunaagd got involved too. Giving John his first bow and arrow, and teaching him how to throw spears and knives. It wasn't long until one day he just took the boy along on a hunt, which annoyed Jeremiah as he had never cleared it with him but there was no point in complaining after the event. What was done, was done.
In the evening when they sat in front of the fire together Jeremiah quizzed John on what he had learnt during the day from Numees and Matunaagd. And on Matunaagd's request John had to retell them the stories that Jeremiah had told him during the day. It was the Indian way. It was how he was taught to remember his tribes' ancient stories when he was only a boy. At this stage of course John couldn't speak the Indian language well enough, so Jeremiah had to help out, spending much of the time simultaneously translating what the boy said which helped them all learn each others ways and language. It was Matunaagd and later on Enkoodabooaoo, when he eventually returned to them who often concluded the evening with one of their old stories before they all retired to bed.
With time things settled down and they'd become a family of sort, with all its ups and downs and roundabouts. Form arguments over undone chores and negotiating bedtimes to having to tend to cuts and bruises, and grazed knees gotten from learning how to fight and fast ballgames with sticks and hurleys. From having to dig deep and being brave when a splinter needed to be dug out from under the skin, to having to get over hurt feelings because of a careless remark or joke gone too far. There were plenty of upsets but none that lingered or were too big to be repaired with a kind word or deed.
It felt good, so good in fact that Jeremiah started to regret having sent the letter to his friend back in New York. Of course this was nothing more than a feeling that he was barely aware of and not willing to form in words, not even in his mind. He knew this to be wrong of course but the fear of loosing it all again weighed much heavier on Jeremiah than he wanted to admit. For the first time in decades he allowed himself to actually remember the grief that had overmanned him after the death of his wife and unborn child. No longer was he able to see the emptiness and loneliness that had followed as a relief, which terrified him to no end. It made him feel uneasy and question everything he was doing, not knowing what he was meant to feel and wondering if he had been selfish having kept the boy.
The boy surprisingly seemed oblivious to it all. Every time Jeremiah came back from town, he asked him if there were news but other than a fleeting disappointed look when the answer was No, yet again, he just got on with things. They both kept their feelings well hidden from each other and as it always is in cases as this, it wasn't long before it all exploded.