The Write Place

Chapter 1
Table of Contents

“This is rather strange.  Why not let me cook?  As a man you cannot be greatly skilled at the practice,” said Red Feather as she sat on the cut log across from the one Caleb sat upon.  They sat near the tree around the fire Caleb had made. The makeshift campfire had been circled by a series of cut wood logs that stood upright for seating.  She watched as he tended a small campfire he had made in the midst of the seats.  Above it he had suspended a pot of soup on a long branch on two others that formed a Y for it to nestle into. Caleb stirred as they sat together.  Amused at her observation, Caleb laughed as he tended the pot.
“When you live alone in the woods much of the time, you have to at least make your food  something you can eat.  You may find you get pretty good even.  Maybe not great, but fair,”  he said as he stirred the pot of stew.  “Got a few rarities, too, seasoning wise,” he said.  Setting the ladle on the metal bar holding the pot, he returned to his seat across from Red Feather.  Together they sat on the bench left of the tree, facing the fire.  “Beef you said?” asked Red Feather, curious and unsure what to make of such a strange thing.

“Yes, it comes from cows, the male or bull, unless you are desperate.  It’s like bison.  Should be done soon,” he said, picking up a piece of wood and a whittling knife he had laid down.  The tree was in full bloom, which caught the attention of Caleb.  “This tree looks familiar.”
“Of course it does, you’ve been sitting under it for months,” replied Red Feather smiling.

“Well that much of it I know.  I mean to refer to the type of tree.  Apple I think.  Odd to have it here,” he said looking up at the branches, curious at the blooming flowers on the tree.

“I’ve had the fruit before.  It would go quite well in a pie,” Red Feather said as she stared looking up at the leaves. 

“Pie?” Caleb said, stopping his whittling and looking at Red Feather.  “Now that is a novel idea.  Pies are for meat.  Well, you might put it in one if you are a Dutch,” Caleb lifted his knife and stick, returning to whittling.

“Dutch?  I’ve heard of them.  My parents traded with them.  More white men but they speak another tongue than you,” said Red Feather.
“Sounds just as foreign I am sure.  But yes.  We had a few wars but things between us have settled down.  They get around to trade.  Stew’s coming along,” Caleb said, examining the bubbling brew.  Leaning over and picking up the ladle with a free hand he gave the stew a stir.  “Looks good.  Ready to try some?”  

“If you can eat our food without complaining I suppose I can at least try what you make,” said Red Feather in a teasing tone.

“I would expect no less.  If it makes you feel any better, it has not proven fatal. . . thus far,” said Caleb.

“So reassuring,” said Red Feather.  Caleb set down his whittlings and picked up a pair of bowls from the bag he had laid at his feet. He began ladling some stew into the first of the bowls. 

“Here you go,” he said, handing a filled bowl over to her.  Caleb took out two spoons, handed one to Red Feather and began ladling a bowl for himself.  Red Feather lifted a spoonful of stew to her lips, but stopped short.  She wore a nervous look on her face as a thought entered her mind.

“You know Caleb, the other women are talking,”  said Red Feather, a slight blush coming upon her face.  She stared at Caleb, awaiting an answer.  The tension formed a pit in her stomach.  She wondered with excitement and worry as to what response she would receive.

Caleb scrunched his face, a little annoyed but also amused. “Women are women anywhere on God’s earth are they not?” Caleb said.  Red feather’s appearance changed into a knowing smile.

“Men too, but in some places they have golden or blond hair.  With a white face,” responded Red Feather, taking a bite of the soup. “And sometimes they come over here from a world away,” 

Caleb rose and walked over to sit next to Red Feather on the stump to her left. Without thinking let out a heavy sigh he wished he could take back. Caleb began eating, thinking about what to say next. “They are musing that there is more to our interaction than your desire to learn English.  Considering how well you speak it.  I wager the question you’re asking next, and there’s a question is ”what are we?”  Red Feather took another bite.  She responded with a slow, nervous nod.

“If we have a different God, we cannot be more than this social acquaintance that we share.  Our understanding of the world, sense of meaning, who God is.  These are everything,”  Caleb spoke in soft determination, but with gentle sadness in his voice.
“I understand,” She said, the same sadness weighing her voice as her heart sank.  She was understanding him better.  Still, unsure of his ways, his interest in her, or his God.

“Maybe my God will move that way among your people.  He did with mine.  I do not wish you to come to him because your faith is in me or  a future with me.  The offer is open if you ever want to inquire into it.  Or come to the church.  It’s a few miles away right now.  But you could make it in a day.  The houses seem to be cropping up all the more quickly,” Caleb said.

They sat for a moment in silence, eating their stew and wondering what to say next.  Breaking the silence, a rustling from the treeline could be heard a short distance in front of them.  Out of the brush came a young male figure bearing a striking resemblance to Red Feather. 

Caleb looked up to address the newcomer,  “Well hello Silent Hunt?  The new axe you traded for, is it cutting well?” 

Red Feather’s brother lifted the axe in one hand and the tomahawk in the other.  “Works pretty well, all told, Sunburn,”

“Mercy, is that what they are calling me now?”  Caleb responded, shaking his head in resignation to his earned reputation. 

“To be fair as your skin, you haven’t done so well with the summer sun,” Silent Hunt said with a smile appearing on his face.  Skilled a hunter as he was at present he was most pleased with his killer wit.

“True.  I was redder than you,” Caleb smiled. Silent Hunt laughed as he stood next to Caleb.
“Old saying; you know the Summer has come when the white man turns pink,”  he said with faux wisdom.  All three burst out laughing at Silent Hunt’s words.

 “Glad I can be of such keen assistance in bringing you laughter.  At least it proves useful for something.  That cannot be such an old saying, though, can it, Silent Hunt?  We’ve only been crisping in the land’s sun for so long,” Caleb said, throwing the observation back to Silent Hunt.

“I’m sure it will be a traditional saying.  There will be plenty of opportunity for it to become one,”  replied Silent Hunt.  “What are you two eating together?”  He motioned with one hand to what the two held.

“Beef stew.  Potatoes, carrots, corn with it,” Caleb responded. ”Should be enough for you to have some too.” The conversation stopped for a moment as Silent Hunt took a bowl and spoon offered by Caleb.  

“Surprisingly good.  I can keep it down,”`said Red Feather, as she took another bite.

“Well, if you can keep it down it’s worth putting it in your stomach,” Silent Hunt replied, setting the axe and tomahawk aside.  He sat down next to his sister taking a bowl in hand.  “I’m surprised you made this Caleb,” said Silent Hunt after taking a bite. ”It tastes like food.”

“Well almost, “said Caleb.  The three all shared a laugh again.  Caleb and Red Feather’s eyes met.  The sky had become the many shades of the setting sun.  Night was beginning to fall.  Underneath it all as the night fell and the conversations continued, were the three of them, with thoughts racing in their minds.  Something was shared between Red Feather and Caleb.  If anything was to come of it, it would need to wait till another time to bear fruit.