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.
Without giving a reply, John fetched the plate of food and brought it over to his seat at the table. But as usual Jeremiah wouldn't let him sit down right away and instead reminded him to wash his hands before eating, when he closed the book he had been reading and joined him.
After a while of Jeremiah just silently watching the boy eat, waiting for an opportune moment to say something or maybe hoping the boy would volunteer an explanation himself, Jeremiah couldn't hold back any longer and challenged him.
"We were starting to get worried about you when you weren't home for supper. We called you, did you not hear us?" he asked in a slightly challenging tone, "We were going to look for you if you had stayed out any longer."
Not sure, how bad this was going to be, John kept his head down and kept eating while keeping a close eye on Jeremiah's hands resting on the book on the table between them.
"This is the part where you say, 'I am sorry Jeremiah, it won't happen again. I didn't mean to worry you. I'll be home for supper next time," Jeremiah prompted calmly but with determination.
John briefly glanced up at Jeremiah and mumbled a barely audible "I'm sorry Jeremiah" before he lowered his head again, feeling guilty and hoping this was all that was required for him to be back in Jeremiah's good books. The silence in the room made him look up at Jeremiah again, and then around to the others whose patient eyes were all waiting for more.
"I am sorry Jeremiah. I didn't mean to worry you. I forgot the time. I'll be home earlier in future," John finally mumbled.
"By supper," Jeremiah elaborated, and John nodded, mumbling a "Yes sir," as well, after which he went back to quietly eating his food.
He had a sense that their conversation wasn't quite over. Least of all because of the looming pot of boiling water over the fire place, but also because he himself had questions about the plans the adults had made and the things that had remained unsaid in the afternoon but he didn't dare to go there. He didn't know how or where to start, so he just kept eating and every so often glanced up at the man sitting opposite him who had gone back to contently reading his book.
"Your turn," they suddenly heard Enkoodabooaoo interrupt the silence in the room, who got up out of the tub, wrapping a thin colourful blanket around him, as he stepped out of it.
John scrunched his nose and narrowed his eyes at him. This was exactly what he had feared. He looked cautiously at the adults in the room that either did not notice or did not seem to be bothered by his reluctance. They all had taken a bath but him. He wondered how much he was allowed to protest against it, and if he got away with maybe refusing it altogether. The last time Jeremiah insisted on him taking a bath it was down by the creek. Jeremiah had threatened to throw him into the water with all his clothes still on, if he didn't get in voluntarily, and Matunaagd had made good on Jeremiah's threat before John even had a chance to consider his options. He got wet that day but didn't really wash himself.
Numees got up and walked toward the tub, carrying an empty bucket which she then used to take some of the warm soapy water out of the bath and dumping it outside.
"No way," he suddenly heard Jeremiah say, who had gotten up from his seat taking John's empty plate and putting it into the basin on the counter. "It's far too late for the child. He needs to go to bed. We have an early start and long day ahead of us, getting organised to go down to Walls' tomorrow. The child needs his sleep," he said without even looking at John, and getting started on washing the plate in front of him.
John was a little peeved with Jeremiah's reasoning but happy enough, since it meant he didn't have to take a bath, until Jeremiah added nonchalantly, "The day after tomorrow is Saturday, bath day in the Walls household, I am sure Sally won't mind putting one more into her tub."
"What, no!" John objected which caused Jeremiah to turn around.
"No discussion, off to bed with you!" Jeremiah said, and with a stern look and 'click and point' in the direction of the stairs, the way he sometimes does when he commands the dog, he concluded his instruction, and then promptly turned himself back around towards the kitchen counter as if he had not just done the most outrageous thing ever.
Against all odds, suddenly the idea of having a bath had become a lot more appealing to John, so he found himself protesting profusely, "No, I want my bath now. I am no child who needs to be sent to bed early. I am always up, Jeremiah. And anyway, I am not going to take a bath in Sally's kitchen ever again. I either have my bath now or not at all. Take it or leave it, man." John looked around the cabin for support but as usual everyone else just busied themselves with whatever they were doing as if this was of no concern to them at all, which in fairness, it wasn't.
With his back still turned towards John, Jeremiah paused and looked up out into the stary night sky through the window in front of him with a smile. "Alright then, just this time so," he said with a serious voice successfully hiding his amusement.
He took the bucket that Numees was putting on the counter beside him and gave her a shy smile, that John couldn't see, and headed for the stream to get some fresh water.
With the bath partially replenished with a few buckets of cold and topped up with a large pot of boiling hot water, John undressed and then cautiously at first, let himself sink into the perfectly warmed bath.
Pleasantly surprised he looked around the room at the adults with a content face until he saw their faint smiles turn into grins, then smirks, then into wide smiles and lastly hearty laughs.
John sank deeper into the tub and turned his head sideways to hide his humiliation and hurt feelings. It was the only thing that truly irked him about the Indians and now and then even about Jeremiah somewhat. Their constant teasing and trickery. He knew they didn't mean nothing by it. His mother had done it as well all the time. She said it was an Irish pastime, but it still annoyed him. More though, it annoyed him that he kept falling for it all the time.
Not so, Jeremiah however, despite being Irish as well. When he saw the boy's face he went over and handed him the washcloth and soap. "Sorry John, that wasn't fair. Is the water warm enough? You want some more hot water?" he asked.
"Nah, you're alright," John mumbled in reply and even managed a shy smile. If he'd complained, they would just tease him even more.
Remembering how awkward he had felt when Jeremiah washed him all over the last time John started to wash himself, properly this time, making sure he scrubbed of the dirt of his arms, legs and body. All the while he kept a close eye on Jeremiah who in turn glanced at him every so often with amusement and instructed him not to forget to wash his neck and behind his ears, like his governess used to do when he was a child.
In the end he let Jeremiah wash his back and rinse out his hair, and this time this was all he did. He remembered how it had felt soothing the last time and noticed that it was the same this time too. Especially having his long hair rinsed out with the cold water. It felt good how Jeremiah was so careful and made sure his head was tilted all the way back so that the soap wouldn't go into his eyes. It felt strange, but good and afterwards he stayed in the tub, and closed his eyes, and tried to just be still, like Enkoodabooaoo had tried to show him. It wasn't something that came easy to him, so when he didn't last long, he started to play with the water and the washcloth, trapping a big air bubble in it like a big balloon and pulling it down under into the water, so he could watch all the little bubbles push through the material and rise to the top.
Only when the water had gone cold and his skin all wrinkly did Jeremiah tell him it was time to finish up. He came up with the towel opened out offering John to wrap himself into it which he did. Jeremiah then lifted him out and put him in one of the two comfy chairs in front of the fire. John made sure not to look at the others in the room. He was embarrassed about how much he enjoyed this. It wasn't like him to succumb to be treated like a child but after the bath it felt right.
Jeremiah came back with a cup of warm milk and one of his insanely tough biscuits. They tasted nice, but without gravy or milk to dip into they were literally inedible. One thing to look forward to when they went to stay with Walls and his Missus, John mused, 'who knows maybe she'd teach Jeremiah how to make proper biscuits'. The other thing that Jeremiah had in his hand was a pair of scissors and a comb which made John look at him suspiciously.
"Come on. Sit forward and let me chop some of that hair of," Jeremiah said with a little too much enthusiasm than John would have liked.
"I like my long hair," John protested as he moved himself even deeper into the chair.
"Ah come on, John. It's too long. You must be sweating with all that hair," Jeremiah tried to reason.
"No, I don't. I like it that way," John argued back.
"Oh, come on. Be reasonable. We can't leave it like that, it's too long," Jeremiah kept trying to persuade him.
"Why? Just because you chopped yours, doesn't mean I have to," John kept arguing back. There was no way he was going to give in.
"John, it's too long. Do you want Walls' kids slag you? You look like a girl," Jeremiah now argued sounding more and more exasperated.
"I do not!" John exclaimed, "I look like an Indian," which made the other adults in the room all look over to them.
Perplexed Jeremiah looked around the room for some support but of course did not get any as everyone lowered their head again focusing on whatever they were doing prior to this argument starting. Only Numees gave away how she felt as her shoulders moving up and down betrayed that she was chuckling and not really focusing on the sewing she was doing.
"An Indian?" Jeremiah exclaimed half amused but wanting to be serious.
"Yeah, of course. My hair is just the same, look!" John argued, "and my skin is also not that white anymore, see!" John added showing Jeremiah his slightly sallow arms.
The boy's arms, face and neck might have gotten somewhat of a tan alright, but every other part of his body, especially the skinny legs and knobbly knees sticking out from under the blanket wrapped around him, were as white as milk. Not to mention his blue eyes. Realising how serious the boy was however, Jeremiah worked hard not to laugh. He didn't like making fun of him. He felt not being taking serious could hurt just as much as a belt sometimes. One had to be careful not to overdo it.
"You always say we are a family. And three quarters of my family is Indian, so that makes me more Indian than white," John told Jeremiah in all seriousness and looking him straight into the eyes.
John like Jeremiah earlier then looked around to see how the rest of his little tribe felt about this and to his surprise found they were all somewhat in agreement, giving him a supportive smile, which made him sit up straight and hold his head up high.
So Jeremiah put the small barber scissors and comb back into its leather pouch with a sigh. Who was he to tell the boy any different if the Indians didn't mind. There was the government trying its best to force the Indians to become white folks in the most cruellest of ways and here they were turning this little while boy into an Indian so effortlessly and without even trying. Why not, Jeremiah mused, there hadn't been a win for them for a long time.
"Right! Fair enough, but don't come running crying to me if they are slaggin' you off!" Jeremiah warned.
"Pah," John went, "As if! They wouldn't dare to," John spat back without thinking.
"Jonathan," Jeremiah warned sharply, wagging his index finger in front of John's face so that John turned his face towards the fire avoiding Jeremiah's strict face.
"There will be no fighting, boy! Understood?" Jeremiah added in a harsh tone.
John shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "so what?" but at the same time kept his eyes trained on the dancing flames, fully aware that he was angering Jeremiah with this but not wanting to go too far. The man wasn't into fighting. Not at all.
"I'm warning you boy!" Jeremiah scolded in an even harsher tone. Lately he had started to use the word 'boy' every time he was giving out to John, trying to address the boy only by his name when he praised him or when he had something positive to say to him. It was because of something that Enkoodabooaoo had said a while ago, "Whenever Enkoodabooaoo hears Megedagik say 'John', he thinks of trouble!" Enkoodabooaoo had said, letting him know that he thought Jeremiah was giving out to the boy far too often. He didn't want the name John to become synonymous with the word trouble. Names were important and sometimes he wished he had never told Enkoodabooaoo about his experiences during the war, or the old man had never told him the meaning of the name he had given him. But too late now. He was just glad that Numees and Matunaagd had chosen to call him by his English name and never called him Megedagik.
"Why can't I just stay with Enkoodabooaoo, minding the horses?" John suddenly asked. They had decided that during the harvesting time they would take turns in minding the horses on Jeremiah's ranch and Enkoodabooaoo was first.
"Because you are needed at the harvest. You heard Walls, everyone has to do his bit," Jeremiah explained.
"But Enkoodabooaoo is old, he needs someone helping him too," John argued, looking sheepishly in the direction of the elderly Indian, to see if he had offended him. Enkoodabooaoo however continued sharpening his knife without even looking up or saying anything but chuckled quietly all the same and shook his head in delight, letting John know he was barking up the wrong tree.
"Enkoodabooaoo is not that old, and anyway he'll swap with Matunaagd after a week, so that's hardly an argument," Jeremiah argued his point.
Disappointed John slouched back into the comfy chair, folding his arms in front of him in a huff.
"What's this all about John? What are you worried about? I thought you'd like spending some time with Carl and Bert," Jeremiah questioned.
"I do, but I don't like spending time with their Pa. He's mean," John argued sullenly and pouted like a little boy.
"Walls is just a bit strict and set in his ways. You don't have to worry about him," Jeremiah said softly in an attempt to reassure the boy a little, but then continued when he saw that his words did nothing to change the boy's mind, "Walls is not a mean man. Men like Edwards are mean. They don't concern themselves with the plight of others, but Walls is not like that. He genuinely cares about you, and opened his home up to us to help us through the winter. That's the opposite of mean, John," Jeremiah corrected, and then added "Walls is a good man. His ways are just different than mine."
"Well, I like your ways better," John said, still pouting. He knew Jeremiah had a point, but he still wasn't prepared to let go of the argument. Walls mightn't be mean, but strict wasn't something John didn't like either.
"Why thank you, son. That's good to know," Jeremiah said with a smile, and then added, "but isn't that what it's always about. People thinking that their ways are better than those of others when all they are is different?"
John looked away into the fire, still pouting, still holding his arms crossed in front of his little chest. Jeremiah could see that he had struck a nerve even though he was not ready to change his demeanour. He could see the boy was worried.
Not unlike himself. Not unlike Matunaagd, Enkoodabooaoo and Numees. They all were, for different reasons. They had been talking about it all afternoon. How things were changing and left no room for the ways of the Indian people. All different, all equal seemed to only apply on their little patch of land but he hoped Walls was going to proof them wrong.
"When I was a boy, not much older than you, my grandfather took me and my brother away on travels, to different parts of the world where people had the strangest ways and ideas. My grandfather used to tell us, 'when in Rome, do as the Romans'. Do you know what he might have meant by that?" Jeremiah asked.
John shrugged his shoulders without diverting his gaze from the flames of the fire. He had an idea what it meant but didn't like it one bit.
"John? Answer me please," Jeremiah prompted in his school teachery way.
"It means you clobber me at every opportunity when I am being bold," John said looking at Jeremiah challengingly. He knew of course that this was not what Jeremiah meant at all, but in a way it was an extreme version of what he was afraid of. He knew Jeremiah wouldn't suddenly turn to disciplining him with violence at least he hoped he wouldn't, but he expected to be given out to all day long because Walls ways were so completely different than those of Jeremiah's and his standards so unreachable.
Jeremiah laughed. "No that's not what it means, and you well know it," Jeremiah said. "I gave you my word and it holds no matter where we are." He shook his head in amusement and looked across to Numees who smiled at them both kindly. "It simply means we should abide by his rules, and that is fair enough. I would expect anyone coming up here to abide by our rules as well, and I don't think our rules are that much different than his. He just goes about a different way enforcing the rules in his family," Jeremiah suggested.
"Phew," John went sarcastically, "well you gave out to me for back talking, and you never do that. You only did that because Walls was here, so what you just said makes no sense," John argued angrily.
"Yes, that is right, John. I let you talk back and argue all the time, and sometimes I wonder if that is the right thing to do, especially when you sass me and give me attitude like right now," he paused to let what he said sink in and watched how the boy bit his lip and lowered his head staring at his hands resting on his lap instead of the fire, before he continued. "John, I speak to you with respect and would like it if you to do the same and you know that, I have often enough corrected you when you sass me and asked you to rephrase something. But you are right I am letting you get away with it when we are amongst ourselves and I am still listening to what you have to say, even if sometimes you use the wrong tone with me. And I will continue to do that, even when we are down at Walls. But I do that when we are alone, and not when we have an audience. I would have corrected you no matter what," Jeremiah said in a stern tone. "It has nothing to do with Walls. We just never had a visitor before, but to be honest John, you knew it was not okay. When we have guests or we are a guests somewhere ourselves, I expect you not to talk out of turn. You are to be on your best behaviour, not your worst, that's all," Jeremiah said, and then waited until the boy sheepishly looked up at him sideways, which told Jeremiah that he had been right, the boy knew the difference.
John pursed his lips. He felt somewhat foolish and ashamed. He knew the scolding was deserved but also was still convinced that their stay in Walls' was not going to go smoothly for him, so after a few moments of awkward silence he rekindled his defiance and started again.
"And Numees," John asked in a slightly less but still challengingly tone, as if Jeremiah had not just criticised him for precisely that, "is she not allowed to talk in front of strangers either," he sassed.
"Numees?" Jeremiah asked perplexed and looked over to her to see if she was in any way offended or halfway as exasperated with the boy as he was, "wherever is that coming from? And anyway, no one said anything about you not being allowed to talk in front of strangers. Back talk and being argumentative is very different to participating in a civilised conversation, and don't pretend you don't know the difference."
"Well, Numees did not participate in the conversation this afternoon, and you never even asked her. I could see she doesn't want to stay there either, even if you didn't," he told him in defence of Numees and in the hope she would come to his aid. He still hadn't given up hope that he'd be allowed to stay up at the ranch despite of it all.
"John you are wrong to think that I chose for Numees or that she had no say," Jeremiah said in a much calmer tone, "Numees chose not to speak this afternoon. Help me out," Jeremiah said and looked over to the bed where Numees was sitting. She had paused her stitching so she could follow their argument attentively for a while now.
"Mukki is right. Numees does not like having to stay in the white man's camp," Numees said softly and John looked over to her hopefully, "but going there is what is right. Numees has lost many to hunger and disease in the past. Mukki and Jeremiah are her family now. Jeremiah and Numees have talked and listened to each other. They have talked with Enkoodabooaoo and Matunaagd as well. And they have listened to Mukki this evening. Tomorrow we all will go to the white man's camp. Mukki and Jeremiah will not return until spring, and Numees has chosen to stay with them. There is nothing else to be said."
John was stunned by what Numees had said. He could have sworn that Numees had felt just like him and was not given a choice either. He saw how Numees gave her bother a stern look, who looked back at her with equally unyielding eyes, as if he wasn't quite happy with what she had said or the choice she has made, but reluctantly had to accept it.
It made John wonder if the adults had been arguing earlier while he had been out. The finality of her words however and even more so her resolute tone of voice seemed to leave no room to restart a discussion on the subject, neither by him nor anyone else, so that John was wondering who exactly the boss in this family was, or if there even was one.