The Hidden Mountain by Peter Pinkham

Author:Peter Pinkham
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MFDC Press

Chapter 16

“WABANAKI AWIBEN,” READ Kabir. “Wabanaki of course is Abenaki. …Awiben?…Let’s ask Azo.” He glanced at a clock. “He’s probably still up.”

M. Levesque’s Toyota had been returned to him in Drummondville, with thanks and an extra large tip to cover certain mysterious dents and scratches that had appeared on the vehicle. The second crossing of the Saco River had gone even less smoothly than the first. They’d left the tent hurriedly wrapped around the sleeping bags and buried under brush. It was as good a place as any to store it.

“Awiben mean calm. Like when no wind,” Azo had no difficulty recognizing the word, even as pronounced by Kabir over the telephone.

Kabir hung up. “A calm Abenaki. A quiet Indian?”

“They were all calm until the white man appeared,” asserted Cilla.

“If he’s out of the wind, perhaps he’s hidden. Like the mountain,” said Hudson.

“Maybe he’s calm like at rest,” said Kabir, bouncing from his chair. “How about some geologic feature that looks like an Indian lying down?”

“Some people have called Moat Mountain ‘The Sleeping Indian’,” said Cilla. “Moat is really a range. Not one peak.”

Hudson looked at the map of the White Mountains he had spread out on the table. “As I picture Moat, it does look like a man lying on his back. His head would be North Moat and the feet, South Moat. If it’s the eastern boundary of the treaty, all of Bartlett village would be included as Indian land.”

Kabir whistled. Then leaned forward. “Could Moat be the Hidden Mountain?”

“If there’s one thing Moat isn’t, is hidden. It’s the most prominent feature in the North Conway area.”

“But before there was a North Conway it was just another mountain.”

“Hudson’s right. Moat stands out no matter where you see it from.” Cilla was deflated. “And there’s no peak behind it.”

“There’s Kearsarge, which was originally Pequawket,” Hudson said. “There’s no reason why the hidden mountain and Wabanaki Awiben have to be the same place. We’re talking about two different things now. Moat could still be just a boundary used for the treaty.” He paused, musing. “How glibly I say ‘just’ a boundary, having thus transferred ownership of an entire town. Maybe two.”

“Not until there’s a real treaty. With actual signatures.”

“Right,” Hudson came back to earth. “Tell us about Odanak, Kabir. What here dates back to the Rogers Raid?”

“Almost nothing survived that. You think the treaty was drawn before then?”

“On the slimmest of evidence. A sentence written in the margin of one of your father’s books. I wish I’d had time to really go through his library in Bartlett.” He sighed. “Everything’s happened so fast lately.” He looked at Kabir. “Ever since the night I spent in that cabin here and got gassed.”

“Not very hospitable of us.”

“No.”

Kabir felt Hudson’s eyes on him and shifted uncomfortably. “Next time we’ll have a welcoming dance.” He said lightly. Hudson said nothing. “Hey, I don’t mean to make a joke of it. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Maybe.”

Kabir was troubled. “Something’s bugging you.”

“Yeah. When you came to

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