Royal Ransom by Eric Walters Read Free Book Online Page A

In fact, if you have any questions, please do not feel uncomfortable asking for my assistance.”
    â€œ Me, ask you for help?” I asked indignantly. “Just who do you—?”
    â€œHey, you want to keep it down?” Ray yelled over. “It’s supposed to be peaceful up here!”
    â€œSorry,” I called back.
    â€œYes, terribly sorry,” she added, though I wasn’t sure she really meant it.
    â€œLet’s just keep paddling,” I said.
    â€œCertainly,” she said. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”
    â€œNope, go ahead, shoot.”
    â€œYour name … it doesn’t sound very Native.”
    â€œMy mother always liked the name Jamie, and—”
    â€œNo, I meant your last name, Ransom,” she said, cutting me off.
    â€œI know lots of Natives with that last name.” Of course, in my village about half the people had that last name. “What were you expecting me to be called, Golden Eagle Song or Naked Bear or something like that?”
    â€œNot exactly … well … possibly.”
    â€œMaybe with some tribal groups, but not ours. Closest you’re going to get is Ray. You can pretend it’s short for Ray of Sunlight instead of Raymond, if that’ll help you feel like you’ve met a real-life Indian.”
    â€œI really meant no offence,” she pleaded.
    I held my tongue. “I guess there’s none taken … at least not this time. Let’s just paddle.”

Chapter Five
    R AY ANGLED HIS CANOE toward a spot on the shore where I’d camped before. It was a good site with a sandy beach and enough open space to set up our tents. I knew that he would normally have travelled farther than this, but it was probably wise to call it a day. It had been obvious to me for a while that our guests weren’t doing so well. Andrew had pretty well stopped paddling, and Victoria’s strokes had gotten awfully short and choppy. I had to hand it to her, though, she must have been really tired but she hadn’t stopped trying to do her share of the work.
    Way back, Albert and Nigel were struggling not to fall any farther behind. They both looked to be pretty strong guys, certainly stronger than me, but canoeing isn’t so much about strength as it is technique—the sort of thing you get from experience and doing instead of taking a course.
    â€œLooks like we’re putting in,” I noted.
    â€œFor the night or for a portage?”
    â€œNo portage here, so it must be for the night.”
    â€œThat’s wonderful,” she gushed.
    â€œYou tired?”
    â€œI could go on if I had to.” She paused. “How far do you think we’ve gone?”
    â€œHard to say for sure.”
    â€œCould you make an educated guess?”
    â€œWell … we canoed for about four hours before we stopped for lunch, so we probably did around twelve kilometres and—”
    â€œDidn’t we cover more than that?” she asked.
    I shook my head. “And then we did about the same … maybe a little more … between lunch and now.”
    â€œSo you think we’ve only done twenty-four or twenty-five kilometres?”
    â€œI think so.”
    â€œYou must be wrong. Surely we travelled farther.”
    I shrugged. “Could have.”
    â€œMy father told us about days when he canoed almost double that distance.”
    â€œThat’s possible. It was a short day today, and we weren’t moving very quickly.”
    â€œI thought we were keeping up a good pace,” she said.
    â€œPretty good for city people. Besides, your father was with my grandfather, right?”
    â€œThat’s what your grandmother said.”
    â€œThen that would explain them travelling a lot farther. When my grandfather went out for what he called ‘a little paddle’ he dipped his paddle in the water and didn’t stop. He was amazing! I went out with him on a trip when