Charlie Smithers: Adventures in The Great White North (The Charlie Smithers Collection Book 5) by C W Lovatt

Author:C W Lovatt [Lovatt, C W]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Wild Wolf Publishing
Published: 2023-04-07T00:00:00+00:00

PART THREE: ALONG THE MCKENZIE

Chapter Twenty

As I suspected, William Irvine was a Scot, with steely grey eyes and a long, flowing beard, tending more to grey than its original ginger. Just visible beneath it were the smallpox scars, just as Tahmoh had described. As far as appearances went, he might not be much to look at, but he was the first European I had set eyes on in over a year.

When I walked through the door, those grey eyes grew wide at the sight of me. They grew even wider when Tahmoh related my lamentable circumstances, to wit, I was a slave, albeit a valuable one, knowledgeable in woodlore, an accomplished servant with a passable command of the Dene language and was absolutely bound to make a creditable clerk at Fort Norman. All these commendable attributes, he advised Irvine, were presently going for the low price of thirteen bags of flour, eight knives, six rifles, and a cast-iron cooking pot (which Sahái had asked for explicitly, as there was a crack in her old one).

I had to admit that Tahmoh’s delivery was smooth, as it should have been, considering that he had been practicing for virtually every day over the winter. Still, I thought it was convincing, and if you had seen him standing there with that stone mask, looking for all the world like the most innocent of trappers trying to negotiate an honest bargain, you would have sworn that butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth.

It’s worthy of note that, upon the rare occasion when our North American colonies were mentioned during my school years, much had been made of the stories that the land had been purchased from the natives with little more than a handful of beads and some mirrors. However, while the Hudson’s Bay Company still had beads and mirrors to trade, and while the natives continued to get the short end of the stick more often than not, they had learned a good deal over the past few centuries. Having closed the unequal divide considerably, they knew how to drive a bargain as much as anyone.

As for Irvine, well, I’ve already mentioned that he was a Scot, so I needn’t say more.

Having heard Tahmoh’s offer, those grey eyes flared while furrows ploughed their way across his brow. He may have been posing but, considering the nature of the proceedings, I doubt if it took much of an effort to look so dumbfounded.

“Wit?” cried he, “Are ye tryin’ to tell me ye want t’sell a fellow human being? Away yew, ye godless heathen, afore I put the law on ye!”

Unperturbed, Tahmoh pointed out that, as he was the owner of said slave, this was in observance of Dene custom and not the white man’s law, which was far away to the south at any rate. Considering, he added that he might want to tack on an extra half-dozen blankets to my price, as well.

Irvine’s response was to puff out his cheeks and let out his breath in a long, perplexed sigh.

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