Free Chickadee by Louise Erdrich Page A

he couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. He heard their calls at first, and then their calls died out and there were only the sweet sounds of the woods.
    After some time, he entered a great stand of pine and all he heard was the sound of wind tossing high in the pine needles. That sound had always lulled him to sleep. He felt better, but still he kept going. When he’d run until he was exhausted, he stopped and put on his old, familiar clothing. He tied on his leggings and his moccasins. He looked around carefully, for any sign they were following. He listened. His heart thumped wildly, but there was no sound of pursuit.
    Chickadee breathed more easily, took stock of where he was. Moss clung to the colder, moister sides of the huge pine trees, telling him which way to go. So he started walking the way the trees pointed. North. Giiwedin. Home.

FOURTEEN
SETTING UP HOME

    A s Chickadee set off for home, his family met in Pembina, at the cabin of Chickadee’s uncle, Quill. It wasn’t a very large cabin, and everyone was crowded into it talking.
    â€œQuill isn’t here,” said his wife, Margaret.
    The grown-ups sat wrapped in their blankets on the pounded earth floor and ate the dried moose meat that Omakayas had brought along, seasoned with the new maple sugar.
    â€œWhere has he gone?” asked Omakayas.
    â€œQuill was hired on the oxcart train down to St. Paul,” said his wife proudly. “He made his own cart and is hauling for the fur trader.”
    â€œOur little brother has become a responsible man!” laughed Angeline, nodding at Omakayas.

    The packs of furs that Animikiins, Two Strike, Fishtail, and Mikwam had worked hard for all winter were stacked around them. Two Strike had also killed a beaver on the way to Pembina, and its skin was stretched out on a willow hoop. The beaver meat was boiling on the little stove that heated the house.
    Quill had surprised everyone. From a wild boy who drove his sister Omakayas half crazy, he’d become a young man. He was not a completely sensible young man, but he’d managed to build a cabin and even plant some potatoes. This was all because he wanted to keep his wife, who threatened to leave him if he kept up his old, wild ways.
    Margaret was half French and half Ojibwe—both sides of her were no-nonsense sides, Makoons thought. This was the first time the family had met her, and Makoons could tell that although she tried to be nice, her real feelings showed through.
    â€œCome in,” she had said. But her face said, Stay out . “Sit down and have some tea,” she had said out loud, but her face said, I wish you’d go away.
    The inside walls were whitewashed, pasted over with written papers. A bed, covered with thick blankets, was pushed against one wall, and there were two chairs at a small wooden table. Deydey sat on one chair. Margaret gave the other to Nokomis. Everyone stood uncomfortably until Margaret asked them to sit down on the bed. A tiny woodstove with a pipe sticking into the wall glowed hotly. Margaret put more wood into the fire, and set a kettle of water on top to boil. Everyone ran out of things to say, suddenly, and stared at the floor. Margaret was silent until Deydey began to speak to her in her language, Metis, which was a combination of French and Ojibwe, just like her family. Deydey had learned the language when he was a little boy. Margaret smiled a little, and then Deydey made her laugh. She got up, moved a large pot onto the stove, and, still talking to Deydey, warmed up some stew and made a bannock.
    As everyone ate, Deydey explained everything that Margaret had told him in her language. Margaret had described how she had persuaded Quill to settle down, make a garden, and pray. She described the long expeditions to hunt buffalo that the two went on together, with her family. Deydey said that Margaret was very strict about going to the Catholic church, and that once she found out why the