Specimen Song Read Free Page A

Adventurers of Hudson’s Bay. Or the Hudson’s Bay Company. Or the Here Before Christ.
    “They invite us down some winter to get away from the cold,” Du Pré went on. “They play some fine music, accordion, fiddle, washboard. Call it zydeco.”
    “What they do with this washboard?” said Madelaine.
    “Guy plays it; he puts big thimbles on his fingers, brushes them over that washboard,” said Du Pré. “It sounds good. Anyway, they say we come down eat crawfish, drink orange wine.”
    “Orange wine sounds good,” said Madelaine.
    Du Pré looked at his watch. His sense of time was off. It must be the middle of the afternoon. Of course it was; his plane hadn’t got to Billings until 2:30. Four o’clock and change. Du Pré was starving of a sudden.
    “This next roadhouse, we get a cheeseburger,” said Du Pré. “I am hungry enough to have supper with a coyote now.”
    It was still close to the longest day of the year, a little over a week ago. The light would remain past ten o’clock, and Du Pré figured if he pushed the old Plymouth, he could make Toussaint before sundown.
    Up ahead, he saw a crossroads and the peeling white sign of a roadhouse that he knew and liked. He turned into the parking lot.
    Christ, I am hungry, he thought.

CHAPTER 4
    O LD B ENETSEE SHOWED UP the next evening, carrying some herbs he had gathered for Madelaine. She used them to scent the shampoo she used. Madelaine took the little bundles off to hang them in a sunny window before she ground them in the old brass mortar and pestle she kept on the sink board. Du Pré wondered about that old mortar and pestle, it was a pretty crude casting and probably pretty old. Maybe Hudson’s Bay trade goods. He sometimes wondered how many pelts of beaver or mink or fisher cat or bobcat or fox the thing had cost. It might be the oldest thing in Toussaint, come to think on it.
    “So you like them Cajun?” said Benetsee.
    Du Pré nodded. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about the Cajuns except Madelaine, and she hadn’t been six inches away from him since he got back. But Du Pré was long past wondering how the old man knew things. He just did. When Du Pré listened to Benetsee tell stories or ask questions he had no way of knowing to ask, he believed in magic.
    “I brought you this,” said Benetsee. He fumbled around in his pockets for something and then found it in the lining of his coat. Benetsee wore his clothes until they turned to mostly holes. Madelaine had to fight him to get him to wear something that at least would keep out the wind.
    “You goddamned old fool,” she had yelled at him once, “you give me that mess of rags and put these things on! They are nice and dirty and you will like them fine! Hah!”
    Benetsee brought form a strange knife, one shaped like a hook, but the bend of the hook went along the axis of the knife blade. It was just a ribbon of steel bent back upon itself. The handle was a finely worked green stone, it felt a little greasy to the touch. Soapstone. Du Pré took the knife and looked at it. The blackish steel had a bright rim along the bottom where Benetsee had sharpened it.
    “That’s a pull knife,” said Benetsee. “You can do some fine carvings those canoe parts with that.”
    Jesus Christ, thought Du Pré, I have forgotten this powwow. But it is not for four, five days. I suppose this old fart will wish to go, gamble some money. Probably my money.
    Madelaine returned with a glass of wine for Benetsee, a big glass. The old man loved to drink a lot of wine.
    “You maybe want a bourbon,” said Madelaine. “I get you one.”
    Du Pré shook his head. He smiled at her.
    Benetsee downed his big glass of wine, just poured it down his throat. Madelaine shook her head and smiled at him, then took the glass and walked back toward the house.
    “You pull that knife to you, you know,” said Benetsee, “for the fine shavings.” He was digging around in his coat. “I got something else.” Finally, he took the