Read Crooked River for Free Online Page B

here, that is—to speak to Amik.”
    A little ripple of laughter escaped out of my mouth and my hand flew up to my lips to cover it. Laura gave me a glare and told the fellow that, begging his pardon, there was no one in our family called by that name. She motioned in the direction ofthe field where the men were working and told the gentleman that perhaps he could find someone there to provide him some help.
    Mr. Kelley appeared as lost as a young boy. “You haven't heard of Amik? Truly?” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “The Indian is no longer a captive here?”
    Now, I had never heard our Indian called anything but Indian John. No one had ever uttered the name Amik for him. The sound of it put me in mind of a bird calling in the trees.
Ah-mick, Ah-mick.
Where had the man been told such a peculiar name? I wondered.
    Laura wiped her hands on her apron and told Mr. Kelley to please forgive our bad manners—that, begging his pardon, we didn't understand exactly who he was looking for. “Pa and the men call our Indian by the name Indian John,” she explained. “He's kept in irons in our loft for murdering a man.”
    But I nearly fell into the wash kettle when I heard what Mr. Kelley said next.
    “I'd be very obliged to speak to your Indian if I might, Miss Carver,” he told Laura, in a soft voice that was almost pleading in its sound. He looked down and the hat turned around and around in his pale, skinny hands. “I believe that Amik—Indian John—is perhaps an old acquaintance of mine.”
    when Red Hair climbs the stairs
    to see me
,
    all appears as a dream.
    neejee! neejee!
    my friend! my friend!
    i say
    i see that
    Red Hair is tall now
,
    tall and thin
    as a young sapling tree
,
    but his hair
    is still the color
    i remember from long ago
—
    the vermilion color that does not
    wash away.
    Red Hair grins
    and makes a picture with his hands
—
    do you remember the river, Amik?
    near my Pa's old house? remember?
    i laugh.
    eya’, yes
,
    i tell Red Hair
—
    i taught you to swim there
    in the time of ripe corn.
    Red Hair grins
    and shakes his head.
    no, you did not teach me
,
    he says
—
    you put me on your back
    and dove!
    i tell my friend
    it is the way the Ojibbeways learn
    to swim
    like fish.
    Red Hair laughs and says
,
    remember our games of moccasin
    and sticks
    and my Pa teaching you
    to play the fiddle?
    eya’, eya’, I say
,
    yes, yes.
    we grow silent.
    below
    i can hear Bird Eyes
    and Tall Girl Who Follows
    clattering and shuffling
    as they do.
    Red Hair asks in a soft voice
,
    Amik
—
    did you do what they say?
    i close my eyes
    and remember
    the day
    the cool green river water
    pushed us upward
    like two strong arrows
    shot into blue sky.
    old friend, i sigh
,
    how we have changed.

“He's real handsome-looking, isn't he?” Laura whispered after Mr. Kelley had gone up the stairs. “Never saw him in the settlement before, have you?”
    “You think he's truly acquainted with Indian John?” I asked.
    Laura shook her head. “No, I don't see how. Still”— she gave a half smile and smoothed her apron with her hands—“I think it would be kind to ask him to stay for tea, don't you? For all his troubles?”
    But as we got out the tin of tea and set the water to boil, I think it gave both of us a jolt when we suddenly realized that Mr. Kelley was talking with Indian John upstairs.
Talking.
And his voice was speaking in words that were no longer English.
    At first, me and Laura just stared wide-eyed at the ceiling planks above our heads, still as two stones.The strange sound of the voices mumbling back and forth was enough to frighten a person near to death. Our kettle bubbled over and hissed onto the fire. All the while Mercy tugged the bed quilts off our bed, but we didn't move from where we stood.
    “You think I should run and get Amos from the field?” I whispered to Laura.
    But then, just as suddenly as it had started, the conversation in our loft stopped. Mr. Kelley came