A Place Called Freedom (1995)

“They all painted the same picture, though,” Mack said. “The river valleys slant from northeast to southwest, just as the map shows, and we have to go northwest, at right angles to the rivers, across a series of high ridges.”

“The problem will be to find the passes that cut through the mountain ranges.”

“We’ll just have to zigzag. Wherever we see a pass that could take us north, we go that way. When we come up against a ridge that looks impassable, we turn west and follow the valley, all the time looking out for our next chance to turn north. The passes may not be where this map shows them to be, but they’re in there somewhere.”

“Well, there’s nothing to do now but try,” she said.

“If we get into trouble we’ll have to retrace our steps and try a different route, that’s all.”

She smiled. “I’d rather do this than pay calls in Berkeley Square.”

He grinned back. She was ready for anything: he loved that about her. “It beats digging for coal, too.”

Lizzie’s face became solemn again. “I just wish Peg was here.”

Mack felt the same way. They had seen no trace of Peg after she had run off. They had hoped they would catch up with her that first day, but it had not happened.

Lizzie had cried all that night: she felt she had lost two children, first her baby and then Peg. They had no idea where she might be or whether she was even alive. They had done all they could to look for her, but that thought was small consolation. After all he and Peg had been through together, he had lost her in the end. Tears came to his eyes whenever he thought about her.

But now he and Lizzie could make love every night, under the stars. It was spring, and the weather was mild. Soon they would build their house and make love indoors. After that they had to store up salt meat and smoked fish for the winter. Meanwhile he would clear a field and plant their seeds.…

He got to his feet.

“That was a short rest,” Lizzie said as she stood up.

“I’ll be happier when we’re out of sight of this river,” Mack said. “Jay might guess our route thus far—but this is where we shake him off.”

Reflexively they both looked back the way they had come. There was no one in sight. But Jay was on that road somewhere, Mack felt sure.

Then he realized they were being watched.

He had seen a movement out of the corner of his eye and now he saw it again. Tensing, he slowly turned his head.

Two Indians were standing just a few yards away.

This was the northern edge of Cherokee country, and they had been seeing the natives at a distance for three days, but none had approached them.

These two were boys about seventeen years old. They had the straight black hair and reddish tan skin characteristic of the original Americans, and wore the deerskin tunic and trousers the new immigrants had copied.

The taller of the two held out a large fish like a salmon. “I want a knife,” he said.

Mack guessed the two of them had been fishing in this river. “You want to trade?” Mack said.

The boy smiled. “I want a knife.”

Lizzie said: “We don’t need a fish, but we could use a guide. I’ll bet he knows where the pass is.”

That was a good idea. It would be a tremendous relief to know where they were going. Mack said eagerly: “Will you guide us?”

The boy smiled, but it was obvious he did not understand. His companion remained silent and still.

Mack tried again. “Will you be our guide?”

He began to look troubled. “No trade today,” he said doubtfully.

Mack sighed in frustration. He said to Lizzie: “He’s an enterprising kid who’s learned a few English phrases but can’t really speak the language.” It would be maddening to get lost here just because they could not communicate with the local people.

Lizzie said: “Let me try.”

She went to one of the pack horses, opened a leather satchel, and took out a long-bladed knife. It had been made at the forge on the plantation, and the letter “J,” for Jamisson, was burned into the wood of the handle. It was crude by comparison with what you could buy in London, but no doubt it was superior to anything the Cherokee could make themselves. She showed it to the boy.

He smiled broadly. “I’ll buy that,” he said, and reached for it.

Lizzie withdrew it.

The boy offered the fish and she pushed it away. He looked troubled again.

“Look,” Lizzie said. She bent over a large stone with a flat surface. Using the point of the knife she began to scratch a picture. First she drew a jagged line. She pointed at the distant mountains, then at the line. “This is the ridge,” she said.

Mack could not tell whether the boy understood or not.

Below the ridge she drew two stick figures, then pointed at herself and Mack. “This is us,” she said. “Now—watch carefully.” She drew a second ridge, then a deep V-shape joining the two. “This is the pass,” she said. Finally she put a stick figure in the V. “We need to find the pass,” she said, and she looked expectantly at the boy.

Mack held his breath.

“I’ll buy that,” the boy said, and he offered Lizzie the fish.

Mack groaned.