Chickadee by Louise Erdrich Read Free Book Online Page B

“if you passed up this delicious stew.”
    Orph pushed away the plank.
    â€œI’d rather eat boiled mice,” he said.
    â€œAll right,” said Batiste, bending over the stew pot, “I’ll dig around and get some for you.”
    â€œTwo Strike? You have stolen some boy from Two Strike? She’ll gut you like a fish when she finds out.”
    â€œHar?” said Babiche.
    â€œShe will lay in wait for you with two knives between her teeth, two knives in her hands, a knife in her hat, knives in her socks. For all I know, that woman carries a knife in her britches too. Those knives will flash out and cut you to ribbons before you can say—”
    â€œMore bouyah,” said Batiste. “What are you two talking about?”
    â€œA savage and frightening woman,” said Babiche, but he was not worried. “She sounds like just the woman for us, my brother! Har!”

    â€œI’m getting out of here,” said Orph. “Take the mail sack. I’m going out to saddle up Sylvia. Poor Sylvia. I’d hoped to get her more rest. But I don’t want to be here when Two Strike comes after this boy.”
    Babiche and Batiste spooned their stew hastily into their mouths, tossed down the bowls and spoons to be licked clean by mice, and picked up the sacks of mail.
    â€œWe’ll ride out too,” said Babiche, “not because we are afraid of this Two Strike, but because we have taken a blood oath pledge to deliver this precious mail.”
    As he bolted out the door, Orph pointed at Chickadee.
    â€œAnd what about him?”
    â€œWe’ll pop him in a mail sack and take him along,” said Batiste.
    â€œOh, no,” groaned Chickadee. “Not the mail sack again.”
    Batiste raised his fist.
    Orph Carter cried out: “Do. Not. Strike. Him.”
    Orph leaped onto his horse, and shouted as he wheeled to gallop south. “Don’t you fellows know why she’s got the name Two Strike?”
    Orph kept yelling the reason, and they might have learned it, too, but as he galloped away in delirious haste, his voice was cut off by wind.
    â€œI’ll climb into the mail sack myself,” said Chickadee, bolder now that he knew the brothers would not punch him. “It would be better if you left me here, though. That way, when Two Strike tracks me down, you won’t be here. There will just be me. I promise I will tell her that you treated me well!”

    The two brothers looked at each other. Then Babiche shrugged. Batiste shuffled his feet around in the snow.
    â€œWe would actually like to meet this ferocious female,” said Batiste, “and the fact is … you tell him, Babiche.”
    â€œThe fact is,” said Babiche with a deep, heartfelt sigh, “although it has been a short time, our affections, they grow quick! We have actually begun to like you. Once we like a person we can never part with him! Har! Har! Awee!”
    â€œWe feel this way about few things,” said Batiste, stuffing Chickadee gently down into the mail sack. “Liking leads to love. Our horses, Brownie and Brownie, we love them with all the passion in our souls. And each other of course, we love. We do not like our father, but we will forever love our mother, the miraculous saint!”
    â€œThe saint!”
    The last sight Chickadee saw that day was the brothers making the cross over their chests, and kissing their fingers, just the way they did the first time they mentioned their mother.
    Maybe it is sign language for mother, thought Chickadee. But the black robe priest made that sign too. Of course, priests have mothers.... I wonder if their mothers wear black robes too....
    With the mail sack shut, the darkness, and Babiche’s woolly vest cradling him again, Chickadee became drowsy.
    The horses had stopped. Chickadee was gently lowered to the ground in the mail sack. Babiche let him out.
    â€œThere is trouble, my little servant