Recipient: cat_77 Pairing: Mostly gen; hints of OT4 and background Lorne/Weir Rating: PG Disclaimer: Historical AU; This is not dark, but it does not ignore issues of the early 1800s, such as war, land appropriation, and slavery. Author's Notes: When I saw, "Team, maybe some OT4, please!" my brain did this funny thing and put them in the Northwest Territory right after the War of 1812. I did my best to stay true to history; Rodney's science is only half based in fact. Taking everyone out of the Pegasus Galaxy and fitting them into early American culture was a challenge, and I hope I did it justice.
I need to thank my wonderful beta for helping me through my hand-flapping and flailing and significantly decreasing the number of flaws in the story. Summary: When Sheppard, McKay, Lorne, and Weir move to Illinois in 1815, they only expected the usual challenges of building a home and running a farm. Their household grows when they befriend Teyla and her people and adopt Ronon, on the run from his past. But it's a dangerous world, and only their quick wits, fast shooting, and Rodney's science can save the day. Story length: Approx. 25,000 words
***
The sun was halfway to the horizon when they cleared the rise, and it threw a soft gold spring light across the valley. A series of rounded bluffs rolled down below the travelers and then up again, like cupped hands. Prairie grasses, still short and green so early in the year, covered the entire expanse and a few oaks grew in well-spaced clumps along low ridges. In the distance, Rodney could just make out the sparkle of sun on water, and he followed it north, hoping for a glimpse of the town. He pointed and turned to his companions. "Look, it's the Mississippi River!"
John Sheppard sat on his horse like it was a chair, relaxed in a way Rodney could never hope to match. He smiled, eyes squinting in the glare of sunlight and replied, "Well, I sure hope so, otherwise we made a wrong turn somewhere." Behind him Evan Lorne snickered and tried to cover it by turning his horse along the top of the ridge to check on Elizabeth and the wagon. Rodney bit back a reply. He'd been on horseback for weeks and they were almost there. He was too excited to be dampened by Sheppard's sarcasm now.
The map was water-stained, coffee-stained, and one corner had been chewed off by his horse, but the area where his claim was marked was still legible. They were on top of the last glacial ridge on the northwestern edge of Illinois. In the distance was the town of Galena, and a stone's throw beyond that, the Mississippi. Somewhere in between was the land that Rodney had purchased back in Boston almost a year ago. He gave the map a quarter turn and studied the landscape again. The blue line along the edge was clearly supposed to be the river, but then that made the ridge run the wrong direction... The map was snatched out of his hands, and Rodney nearly fell out of his saddle with a startled yelp.
Sheppard held the map up briefly and then folded it and tucked it into his shirt. "See that rise with the trees?" he asked, pointing toward an oak savannah. Rodney nodded skeptically. "That's the southeast corner of our new property." Rodney tried to mark out the almost one thousand acres they owned between them, but with all the rolling hills it was hard to estimate. Sheppard and Lorne had each been granted bounty land for their service in the war--320 acres each--and Rodney had bought another 320 of his own that happened to adjoin theirs. When he'd advertised in Boston looking to hire guides and guards for his trip, he'd never imagined he'd end up with two rowdy ex-soldiers who would turn out to be his neighbors. He'd also hired Elizabeth to manage his business and domestic affairs while he concentrated on his research.
They'd decided to combine their resources after Rodney had explained that he was only interested in getting ore out of the mine on his land. Sheppard and Lorne had eagerly agreed to take the extra acreage in return for building Rodney a house. Somewhere along the way, though, they'd decided it would be more efficient if they all lived in the same house, at least for a while. So his guides had gone from neighbors to housemates. Of course, even the barest room would feel luxurious to Rodney after having slept in a tent or under the supply wagon for five weeks.
Sheppard nudged his horse forward, and grinned widely. "Let's go, McKay!"
Rodney's own horse started to follow before he could grab the reins again, and it would be just like Sheppard to make him break his damn neck within sight of the end of their long journey. He twisted awkwardly in the saddle to make sure the others were following, and saw Lorne's and Elizabeth's heads top the rise before his mount plunged down a steeper part of the slope. He clenched his legs around the saddle and firmly kept his eyes forward from then on.
Although Rodney could not have cared less, Sheppard insisted on stopping frequently to pace along the ground, noting where the land would support corn, wheat, grapes, saplings for tools, and other things their homestead would need. He and Lorne argued at length about where to start the vineyard, as there were (apparently) two south-facing slopes that would potentially produce a bounty of grapes. Finally Rodney snapped in exasperation, "Why don't you plant them in both places, and you can call one wine 'Colonel Slouchy' and the other 'Major Cranky Face' and see which one does better? The sun's going down, I'm hungry, and I want to see my damn mine!"
"I hate to say it, but Rodney's right." Elizabeth leaned her elbows on her knees at the front of the wagon, watching the two men with a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You'll have the entire spring to worry about planting. We don't even have a house yet. And Rodney did pay for all of the supplies and equipment to get us started." She nodded at Rodney and raised an eyebrow. He smiled his thanks. She was much better at getting the point across to others than he was. He still wasn't sure why Elizabeth had signed on to accompany him. She "wanted to see what was out there," she'd told him, but he'd heard rumors of an engagement with a doctor gone sour. He didn't care about her past; her organizational skills were amazing, and she'd saved him at least two weeks just by filling out his paperwork and writing notes to the various agencies that had previously stalled his progress. As for the "domestic" half of her duties, she'd admitted up front that she couldn't cook and had quite proved it so far. But she prepared slightly burned food in great quantities, which suited Rodney just fine.
She was worth her weight in gold. Or galena, the ore he'd come to mine. The French had been digging the stuff up for decades, and the only town in the entire region was even named after it. But he didn't want to sell or trade it--he wanted it for science.
Sheppard gave Rodney one of his overly-put-upon frowny faces and sighed dramatically. But it was obvious he was too excited by the plans running through his head to be truly upset. "All right, McKay. Keep your pants on. Your mine is about a mile north of here near the outer edge of the property."
"Are you sure?" Rodney asked, wishing Sheppard hadn't taken the map. "Because I distinctly remember someone mistaking a creek for the Illinois River three days ago, and oh, let's not forget that lovely detour we took in Ohio." He kicked his horse forward. "God, I hated Ohio."
The land started to rise again, and the grasses gave way to massive oak trees. It was too early for most flowers, but tiny, feathery purple blooms sprouted here and there in the dappled shade. They reached a flat, open area with a breathtaking view, almost above the tops of the trees but still well below the last steep limestone bluff. They decided that Lorne and Elizabeth would stay there with the wagon and make camp while Rodney and Sheppard looked for the mine.
They followed the edge of the rocky slope, pausing where sections had crumbled into piles at the base. Sheppard dismounted and picked up one of the yellowish rocks, turning it in his hands. "Look at this, McKay. A seashell!" He held out the rock for Rodney's inspection, and sure enough, a perfect imprint lay within the stone.
"Yes, yes," Rodney waved off the find. "This area used to be covered by an ocean. That was millions of years ago, of course." He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. Work being published in England and Scotland was revealing new information about the age of the Earth, but while the past was interesting, it was the future that fascinated Rodney.
"An ocean," Sheppard murmured. "Huh." He turned to look out over the valley, moving only when his horse nudged his leg. He shrugged and patted its nose, pretending nonchalance, but Rodney saw him tuck the fossil into his saddlebag.
They rode in silence for a while, examining the bluff and looking for any opening that might give access to the vein of ore supposedly inside. After a while, Sheppard turned in the saddle and watched Rodney on his horse. "You're a lot more comfortable riding when you forget you're riding. Have you named your horse yet?"
"What?" Rodney turned from his inspection of the cliff face and looked down at his horse. It was a horse. "No. Why should I name him when I hope I never have to ride him ever again?"
"Well, for starters, McKay--and I swear I've told you this before--it's a she, and, I don't know. You name them because you care about them, and they work hard for you, I guess." He leaned down and patted his own horse's neck.
"And you reward them by giving them a stupid name," Rodney replied.
"'Puddlejumper' is not a stupid name!" John retorted, looking affronted. He turned his horse sideways and opened his mouth to say more, but leaned forward and pointed at something over Rodney's shoulder instead.
"What? Is it a bear? Please tell me it's not a bear." Rodney stiffened in his saddle.
"I think we found your mine." Sheppard dismounted and threw Puddlejumper's reins over a low branch, heading for the rocks. Rodney scrambled to do the same, but it took him considerably longer. By the time he was down from his horse Sheppard had disappeared. In the failing light it was difficult to see, but Rodney could just discern the outline of an opening in the cliff. It hadn't been visible from the other direction and they would have missed it entirely traveling their circuit the other way. He approached cautiously, sticking his head and shoulders into the opening, which was, of course, pitch black. A hand snaked out of the darkness and grabbed his shirt, pulling him inside.
Rodney screamed, even though he knew it had to be Sheppard. "You are all about scaring me to death today, aren't you?" he groused, throwing out his hands and finding the walls. His arms, nearly outstretched, touched each side of the passage.
"It's a lot of fun when you scream like a girl," Sheppard laughed. "I didn't go very far; it's awfully dark."
"It's a cave," Rodney replied. "Hang on." He stepped back outside and rummaged in his saddlebag, producing two glass bottles. Taking a small stick from one, he uncorked the other and dipped the stick into it for a moment, then pulled it back out. The stick burst into flame with a shower of sparks and smoke.
"What the hell is that, McKay?" Sheppard stood at the opening, staring at him in awe. Rodney took a moment to bask in his amazement before pulling out an oil soaked torch and lighting it.
"It's a fire stick. Invented a while ago in France, though I've improved the design considerably, of course. The smoke from this one isn't poisonous, for example." He smirked at Sheppard and gestured for him to head back into the mine.
The torch threw shadows against the rock walls, which were uneven and clearly naturally eroded. The floor was sandy but smooth, giving them even footing. They walked for several minutes with no sign of the telltale silver glint that would indicate the ore they sought. Rodney was starting to get disappointed. He had been assured that nearly every set of caves in the region held vast amounts of galena. Though he could buy almost enough for his research, the consistency was sketchy, and he found that it took anywhere from weeks to months for any amount to reach him back east. He supposed he'd at least be closer to a reliable source now, though the funds that he'd previously spent on the ore had been invested in the mine; what he had left was needed to buy seed and supplies. If it didn't pan out, he'd have sold his property and business back home for nothing more than a farm. Which, he realized, he had more or less given to Sheppard and Lorne anyway.
Sheppard stopped ahead and gestured for the torch. Rodney handed it over reluctantly, noting that it was just beginning to sputter. He should have brought a spare. He was not overly happy in the confined space of the mine, and less so without control of their only source of light. Then he saw what Sheppard had: the way ahead split into three narrower pathways.
"Okay," Sheppard said slowly. "I think this is where we call it quits and come back later." He looked back over his shoulder at Rodney.
Rodney looked at the torch and estimated that it had about a half hour's worth of light left to give. It had taken them just over ten minutes to get this far, which meant they could explore a good five minutes down one passageway before they had to turn back and still have a few minutes to spare. He was desperate to get just one glimpse of ore. It had to be here.
His expression apparently answer enough, Sheppard sighed and chose the right-hand tunnel. It didn't take long for the cave to branch again, and again they went right. Something told Rodney that it didn't make sense, that the bluff wasn't wide enough to the right of where they'd entered if his sense of direction was true, but apparently the first tunnel had turned more to the east than he'd thought. He was trying to make a map in his head when the torch sputtered one last time and went out.
"Damn." Sheppard's hand found Rodney's sleeve, and he pulled him close. "You have any more of those fire sticks?"
"No, I left them in my saddlebag." Wow, it was really, really dark, and Rodney thought that it should have made the passageway seem larger, but somehow it didn't. He clutched at Sheppard's shirt and shuffled around in the tunnel. "Okay, well, we take a left and a left and then we go straight, and then we're out, right? Simple."
"Sure, simple." Sheppard took the lead again, and it occurred to Rodney that they were, perhaps, not the best people to find their way out of a cave system in the dark. Lorne--why hadn't he brought Lorne? The man had no sense of humor, but he'd unerringly found water, fords, settlements, and campsites bereft of poisonous plants, bees, and bandits along the entire route.
Sheppard steered them along the first turn, and they shuffled forward slowly, still clutching on to each other. Rodney stepped on Sheppard's heels when he stopped. "Uh oh."
Rodney couldn't help the note of panic in his voice. "What do you mean, 'uh oh?'" He poked Sheppard in the back.
"The next turn is to the right. Do we skip it, or take it?"
"I don't--" Rodney pictured his internal map. He'd thought they couldn't possibly have taken two right turns, and he had been looking more at the rock than where they were going. He couldn't remember other side passages. "Take it," he said.
He sensed Sheppard nod, and they started moving forward again. Rodney thought it must have been the right decision, for in a moment he noticed that he could make out the outline of Sheppard's messy hair against the tan rock.
And then a hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he screamed again.
He also jammed one elbow into the rock wall and one into Sheppard's kidneys. His feet caught in Sheppard's ankles as he tried to turn, and they went down, landing on the sandy floor.
"What the hell, McKay?" Sheppard pushed him off to the side and sat up, stiffening at the voice that emerged from the darkness.
"Why are you in the caves with no light?" The voice was soft and feminine, not exactly threatening except in context. As in, possibly belonging to someone about to murder them.
"You don't have a light," Rodney pointed out, feeling that the conversation was missing several key elements.
"My light is behind you. I left it there to draw you to it while I determined whether or not you were a threat." There was a pause. "I have decided that you are not."
Sheppard stood and dusted himself off, and Rodney did the same, feeling for the edges of the tunnel wall as he did so. "All right, then," Sheppard said. "I'll assume for the moment that you're not a threat to us. "Maybe we could go over there by the light and introduce ourselves?"
Rodney had to hand it to Sheppard--he certainly had charm. Even if the man was expecting a fight any moment, he'd never show anything but affable willingness to go with the flow right up 'till they went over a thousand foot waterfall. Then he was all action.
There were two torches on carved rock stands in the center of a small chamber, but Rodney didn't pay attention to anything but the fact that there were also silvery veins running through the walls. He ran his hand over the nearest of them, leaning in close to get a better look. It was dark, almost the color of lead, and perfect for what he needed.
"Jackpot," he breathed. He wished he'd thought to bring a small pick to take back a sample, but he could always come back tomorrow. If he could find his way back. If they made it out tonight. Sheppard cleared his throat behind him and Rodney turned around with a jerk, having forgotten about the other person.
She was beautiful. Maple-skinned, with reddish brown hair and slightly tilted eyes that were almost the color of the reflected torchlight. She wore leather clothing in browns and greys that mimicked dappled sunlight under the trees. Sheppard cleared his throat again, and Rodney realized he was staring. "Uh, yes, hello. Um, thank you for saving us," he said, and then added, "That is, if you're saving us?"
The woman arched an eyebrow and asked, "Do you need saving?"
"We kinda got turned around when our torch went out," Sheppard explained. "See, McKay bought this property a while ago for the mine, and, uh..." He trailed off, and Rodney realized that: though they had bought or been given the land legally from the United States government, actual ownership according to the original...well, owners, was sometimes still a bit sketchy; that it was entirely possible that her people technically owned the land, and: if that were the case, if she killed them both right now it would be a moot issue. To her, at least.
"I am Teyla Emmagan," She said, sitting gracefully. Rodney took that as a step in the right direction and slid down with the wall against his back. Sheppard sat, too, looking somehow relaxed and tense at the same time. Teyla regarded each of them gravely. "I apologize. I did not realize that this area had been claimed. My people live to the northeast of here, near the lake. This is the closest vein of ore that is easy to access."
"Oh, that's good, really good," Rodney said, his heart finally slowing. He tried to remember the recent history of this region. The land where the town was built had been sold to the French by the native people, the Algo- or Altho- something. He'd felt safe (and morally justified) coming to this area of the country because there hadn't been any recent fighting over land. The French and native people had even been granted full citizenship when the territory became part of the United States.
"Well, look, you're welcome to keep coming here." Sheppard had that wide, smarmy charming smile on his face now. "And I'm John Sheppard, by the way." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "And that's Rodney McKay. He only needs enough ore for his science experiments, so I'm sure there's enough to spare." He shot Rodney a warning look. It was true, he probably didn't need as much as the mine held, and how much could she take, anyway? He nodded.
"Especially if you show us the way out," Rodney said. "And, um, come back tomorrow and show us the way back in?"
Teyla rose with a smile and dipped her head. "I would be happy to do so. It is easy to get lost in these tunnels."
"We weren't lost, just turned around," John mumbled half-heartedly, but grabbed the second torch and followed Teyla out.
***
The house had gone up without too much trouble, and John was pretty damn proud of the work they'd done. He'd been pleasantly surprised at the amount of credit available in town when he had gone with Evan and Elizabeth to get supplies. He'd thought for sure that McKay would be stingy on anything that didn't directly involve his research. Instead they'd found that a sizable sum awaited them at the bank--transferred months ago from Boston--and they'd had to remind themselves that they couldn't spend it all.
Still, he and Evan had bought not only the lumber and tools for the house, but enough food to last for a good while, seeds and seedlings, a few new sets of clothes for them all, and the odds and ends specified by Rodney for his work. None of the gadgets had made sense to him, but he'd packed them carefully in the straw of the wagon nonetheless. Elizabeth's purchases had made only a small bundle that she refused to reveal and carried in her lap on the way home.
They'd worked hard that first week, and the main structure was nearly complete. It was much like building barracks at a new posting to John and Evan, though Elizabeth had insisted they teach her the rudiments of carpentry and she'd caught on quickly. Doctor McKay had used that time to explore the mine--usually with Teyla, who didn't seem to mind trekking all the way out to show him another part of the tunnels or an area that had yielded ore for her in the past. In fact, she seemed to find McKay amusing, and John found himself watching for their return in the evenings, wondering how they could possibly spend so much time simply digging rocks out of a wall.
Evan misunderstood his worry. "I'm sure she's trustworthy," he said on the evening that they were finishing the cedar shingling. "McKay's been going into the mine with her for days now. If she were planning something nefarious, it would have happened by now."
John glanced over at his friend. For all that they'd fought together for three years against the British in the war over the Northwest Territory, John wondered how much Evan really understood him. He'd stood by his side when the military had wanted to strip John of his rank, and it was probably only due to Evan's loyal defense that he could still be called a colonel. Since no one else had come forward with an opposing account of events outside Fort Bowyer near the end of the war, the military had dropped the court martial. Still, they'd both been politely asked to take their land bounty and disappear. They'd spent the winter tying up loose ends in Boston, which for John meant handing over his estate and investments to his now ex-wife. He'd never found the judge she'd bribed to accept his involvement in the war as "abandonment for three years," thus making the divorce legal.
He wondered if it had as been hard on Evan. But as far as John could tell, Evan had spent the winter in the taverns and coffeehouses, buying drinks for people and learning about planting crops, irrigation, pest control, and everything that he'd need to make the move out west successful.
The last shingle went into place smoothly, and John looked up, almost surprised that the work was done. He and Evan shared a grin. "Race you to the bottom," Evan said, swinging his leg over the peak and sliding down.
"You left me with all the tools!" John called down. He carefully gathered the adze and mallet, then swung himself down, following more slowly. He was about to drop off the edge, but movement along the top of the closest ridge caught his eye, and he flattened himself instead, gripping the shingles. It was the wrong direction for McKay, and it was definitely someone on horseback. McKay never took his horse unless he planned on bringing back a larger load of ore than he could carry.
Evan hadn't noticed the arrival yet. He and Elizabeth stood near the fire, chatting. Elizabeth was attempting to make soap from the smell of things. Their own horses might normally catch a whiff of a strange mount and give warning, but not over the odor of lye and lard.
Maybe John was being paranoid, but he was still a military man at the core. He pried loose a shingle and tossed it at the fire. It caught Evan on the ankle, and he looked up, surprised. John gestured to the hilltop and put his fingers to his lips. Evan nodded once and turned. Even if the didn't understand each other all the time, they knew what to expect from each other. The sun would be in the stranger's eyes as long as he remained on the crest of the hill. John shimmied backward until he was over the peak of the roof, mostly hidden in the leaves of the large oak they'd built under for shade.
The man on horseback was slightly ragged, but armed to the teeth. His face was pockmarked from some childhood illness, and he had a greying mustache and hair. He moved his horse a little further downhill and leaned forward on his saddle, eyes roaming over the five horses tethered near the back of the newly built house, the partially loaded wagon at the front, and the small lean-to that contained all of their seed and stores.
He was obviously a bandit. Though whether he'd make a move wondering if more men were nearby was uncertain. Five horses could mean Evan and Elizabeth had brought spare mounts, or that they belonged to potential back-up.
"Evening, Ma'am," the man said, tipping a nonexistent hat to Elizabeth and ignoring Evan. "Nice work you've done on your house. You folks just move out here?"
Evan moved to stand in front of Elizabeth, and she answered from behind him. "That's right. Just recently. And what about you? Are you a neighbor?"
The man gave an unpleasant smile. "No. I move around a lot. Where the goods are, you understand." John knew it was about to get ugly right before the man drew his gun. Hoping the bandit's attention was on Evan, he climbed into the oak tree as quickly as he dared. If he could make it to the back of the house, he could get to his rifle, still tethered to Puddlejumper's saddle from his hunting trip earlier that day.
He was halfway down the trunk when a shot rang out, making his heart leap into his throat. He let go of the tree entirely, landing in a crouch and coming up at a run. Not caring about stealth now, he jerked the rifle from under the saddle strap and flew around the corner of the house.
And stopped in amazement. The bandit had his hands raised in surrender, scowling into the distance. His horse danced nervously, no doubt from the bullet that had turned up a patch of dirt directly at its feet. McKay emerged from the treeline first, hands held over his ears. "I think you deafened me!" he called over his shoulder.
Teyla followed behind him, a pistol calmly raised and pointed at the intruder. "You will leave now," she said evenly. "And not come back."
The man gave a conciliatory bow from the saddle and turned without a word, disappearing over the ridge in the direction he'd come.
Elizabeth turned first to Teyla, and then to John. "Well, that was exciting. Teyla, thank you. I'd ask you to join us for soup, but I'm afraid it's soap." She sat down on a nearby log and let out a shaky breath. Evan sat down next to her and laughed.
"From now on, we keep our guns close to hand," John said, laying his rifle against the side of the house. "And Teyla, thank you." He ran a hand through his hair. "I mean, I was just about to get him, obviously, but, you know...thanks."
Teyla smiled and returned the pistol to its holster under her jacket. "I am sure you would have performed admirably," she said, her mouth turning up at the edges. John wondered how Teyla managed to sound so sincere and make him feel so foolish at the same time. She was more sophisticated than most of the women he'd known, but never hid her sharp wit behind coquetry and modesty. She'd hold her own in the most elite of coffeehouses in Boston, and she'd just proven she was at least as good a shot as he was. Her smile widened as if she knew what he was thinking, and he felt a flush creep up his neck. "We have encountered these prairie pirates before," she said, glancing toward the ridge. "They are horse thieves, and worse."
"'Prairie pirates?' Are you kidding me?" McKay leaned over the kettle, wrinkling his nose in disappointment that it was not, in fact, soup.
"That is what they call themselves," Teyla answered with a shrug.
"This area used to be an ocean," John reminded McKay.
"Yes, I'm sure that's what they were thinking of. They are no doubt high-ranking members of some great philosophical circle." McKay sat down with a sigh, poking a finger into his ear and wiggling it enthusiastically. "You could have warned me you were going to shoot."
"I took out my gun and aimed it," Teyla replied. She too leaned over the kettle, and raised her eyebrows at the smell.
While Elizabeth and Teyla compared notes on making soap, John and Evan made supper. It was later than usual, so they simply threw whatever quick cooking supplies they found into the pot and hoped for the best.
***
Rodney hunched over the coil of copper wire and very, very carefully turned the small handle attached to one end. He thought he might be close this time. The galena he'd gotten the other day had been the purest he'd found yet, even though it had meant squeezing into a tunnel almost too small for his shoulders. He shivered remembering it. The caves were always dark and cold, but knowing that Teyla was behind him and that she never got lost helped immensely. Maybe it was her calmness that helped, too, spreading into him like the coolness of the air. She seemed to sense when he was starting to feel panic well up, and would tell a story of her ancestors who had lived there in the past and had marked themselves with paint made from the ore.
He poked at the galena again, turning the cube-shaped crystals a little in their setting. They weren't crystalline in the same sense as most other minerals; these were dark and square, shiny, but with a dull gleam. They were also wonderful conductors of electricity and sound. In fact, Rodney was certain that they were the key to transmitting sound over distance--an idea that had gotten him laughed out of more than one coffeehouse.
It was getting too dark to see, and he didn't really want to bother with the gas lamp. More often than not, he fell asleep at the table or forgot to turn it off when he fell into the small bed built against the wall of his room, and John or Elizabeth would give him an earful about it when they rose at dawn to start their day. So instead of continuing to work, he wandered into the common area that was both kitchen and sitting room. He hadn't really thought about what everyone else did in the evenings. They'd been there almost a month, and he didn't think he'd been out of his work room more than a night or two. Elizabeth sat at the table, which Evan had finished planing smooth last week. Rodney could see she was carefully marking sums in a log book, most likely a record of his bank account. Evan sat on a footstool darning socks, and John lay across the rug by the fire, reading.
It was all very...domestic. Rodney felt a pang of homesickness, though his home had never looked like this. He'd grown up in a manor house in York along the St. Lawrence River in Canada, his father having been granted land and a title from the British for being a true Loyalist during the Revolution. He and his sister had been afforded every opportunity, and Rodney had taken the first opportunity he could to leave.
He made his way over to the fire and scooted John's legs out of the way. John only made a minimal protest, curling his legs underneath him. Rodney bent closer so that he could read the title of the book. "The Hungarian Brothers by Anna Maria Porter?" He asked. "Isn't that a little..." He waved his hands around, at a loss for words.
John glanced up at him. "Romantic?" He suggested. "It's Elizabeth's, and it takes place during the French Revolution. Lots of blood." He turned the page, then looked back up with a smirk. "And kissing."
"Always a great combination," Evan said, putting down one sock and picking up another. Rodney realized with a small amount of shock that they were hissocks. He knew they didn't leave a saucer of milk outside for some kind of Brownie to come and do all of the housework, but it might as well have been magic for all the thought Rodney had given to the manner in which clean, mended clothing appeared atop his trunk when he needed it. He'd been so busy working he'd rather thought he was the only one working.
Elizabeth reached over and gave Evan a light slap on the shoulder. "You could do with a little more education about romance, I think." He looked up at her quickly, then ducked his head back down with a blush, returning to his needle. Elizabeth turned to Rodney and asked, "How's your work going? Have you finished your gadget?"
Rodney leaned against the warm stone of the fireplace. "No, but I'm close. I need to get the crystals set correctly in the wire coil."
"And then what?" John asked. "I mean, what's it supposed to do?"
He hadn't wanted to tell them, because he hadn't been sure it would work. But it was close enough now. "If I make a large set here at the house, and then smaller sets to carry with us, we can talk between them, even over long distances."
After a moment, Elizabeth spoke up. "I don't think I understand what you mean, Rodney." She'd put down her pen and was staring at him intently. Evan, too, had put down his work, and even John was paying attention.
"They're communication devices. If you take one with you and talk into it, say as far as the mine, I could hear what you said back at the house." John blinked, then shared a look with Evan. Clearly they were interested. "The galena is the key. It's the crystal structure. It doesn't need a current running through it to work because it draws its power directly from sound waves, and--" And now he'd gotten into the theoretical aspects of the entire philosophy, ideas that other men called preposterous and were probably decades away from discovering on their own. "I'll show you when it works," he promised. He thought for a minute, and then carefully asked, "And how's the, er, planting, and whatnot?"
***
It was the height of summer, a time when everything burst forth in bloom in a riot of color across the prairie. Though it would be weeks yet before anything was ready to harvest, the anticipation was there, underlying everyone's mood and giving a purpose to all activity. Teyla made the rounds of her village, ducking into a tent here, waving into a doorway there. Her people were well, and though a few had commented on her recent disappearances, they certainly hadn't needed her in the village to know where and when to plant their crops. Nor did they need her to lead them on hunts--they had both Marta and Kanaan for that--though she had trapped several good sized beavers in the lake in the last week, thinking that Charin would need a new warm coat when it got colder.
Still, she felt restless. The dreams she'd had last winter had led her to the caves of the ancestors at the spring equinox, where she'd found Rodney and John. They were important somehow, and the more time she spent with them, the more she was sure that they were meant to play key roles in her life. Yet spending time with them meant spending time away from her people. It was like a blacksmith's puzzle, and she had not yet learned how to make the metal pieces twist and come apart. Worse, she felt that the puzzle wasn't finished--that there were yet more pieces to be added, making it more complex still.
To take her mind from it, Teyla busied herself with arranging the vines that grew along the framework of her round tent. Left unattended for too long, the young green shoots would cover the entrance. While not terribly inconvenient, it would draw bees into her living area when it bloomed. She tucked a vine back over the main pole, finished with the task rather more quickly than she would have liked. Her garden was weeded and watered, her snares checked, and her clothing mended. There was nothing else to occupy her for the moment. She considered walking out to the Sheppard Homestead (which is what all of them seemed to call it), but it was late, so she went looking for Halling instead.
He'd been with her people for a very long time, almost as long as she'd been without her parents. Though he'd never really meant to stay, he'd found a home here, and if anyone could understand how she felt, perhaps it was he. She found him with his son, Jinto, bent over the task of knapping small pieces of chert stone into points. Jinto brought his shaping tool down a little too hard on the next stroke, and the point of the chert broke off. He threw the pieces down in frustration. "Why do I have to learn this? You've taught me how to shoot a gun."
Halling glanced up to acknowledge Teyla's arrival before answering. "And if you are lost, can you make more bullets?"
"No," the boy answered slowly. "But I could make a sling, or snares to catch rabbits."
"And how would you cut the twine and leather?" Halling laughed at Jinto's expression, patted his back, and stood. "Practice until the sun sets. Have patience." He joined Teyla, and they walked in silence to their favorite place, through the buffalo grass that grew over their heads to the top of a rocky outcrop that overlooked the village and the lake. They watched the sun move low on the horizon, turning the lake orange.
"Jinto is right," Halling finally admitted. "A gun is more useful than a spear. I make him practice more to learn how to sit still than to learn how to shape stone."
Teyla nodded. She understood Halling's unspoken message: what little change they'd seen over their lifetimes was nothing compared to what was coming. "Our people will not remain here forever," she said. "It has been our home and the home of my ancestors for generations, and yet..." she sighed. "The trickle of people we've seen moving here will become a stampede in numbers greater than the buffalo herds on the prairie."
Halling gave her a wry smile. "And when the buffalo stampede, there's nothing to do but get out of the way." He stretched out along the rock and put his hands behind his head. The first stars were just beginning to appear. "All things change, Teyla."
"And what of our home?" she asked angrily, striking the rock with her palm.
He didn't flinch, accustomed to her occasional bouts of temper. "Home? What is home, to you?"
"My people, my garden, the fields." She leaned back alongside him on the warm stone, turning her eyes upward. John and Rodney, she added silently. They were also becoming part of home.
"And if you found those things on an island floating in the middle of the sea, would they still be home?" Halling stretched his hand toward the sky. "If they existed out there among the stars, would they not still be home?"
"They would," Teyla agreed with a sigh, feeling her anger dissipate. Those things would be her home no matter where they were, and yet...her dreams spoke of other things lately. Not only for her people, but for her as well. They called her dreaming a gift from the ancestors, and most regarded it so, but it was also something to be feared, for it inevitably foretold of change. And who did not fear change? Sometimes it was benign, as in the meeting of new friends, but she did not always care to be the tool that brought it about. She thought back to Jinto's broken spear point. No, sometimes it was not good to be the tool at all.
***
John straightened and stretched his sore muscles, feeling the hot sun work its way through his shirt. It was a good sore, different than the sore he'd get from soldier's work, and a hell of a lot more satisfying. He and Evan had managed to clear almost an acre a day that spring, and underneath the tough prairie grass was lavishly rich soil. It was now covered mostly in corn and wheat, with a few acres of other vegetables that would get them through the winter. Two different kinds of grapes had been planted on the farthest slopes, though it would be a few years before they were ready to harvest. They had just finished the last of the weeding, and would be ready to cut the first of the wheat soon.
He hated to admit it, but Teyla had proven to be an immense help. It stung his pride to not be good at something, but then, he and Evan were still more soldier than farmer. For everything that Evan had learned by word of mouth, their knowledge of how to run a farm was sorely lacking. The first time Teyla and Rodney had come back from the mine to find them scratching their heads over how far apart to space the seeds, she had offered to spend a day here and there helping them work. Even Rodney had ventured out into the fields on occasion, wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat that John swore belonged to Elizabeth. He'd managed not to laugh out loud, but had received a typical Rodney glare nonetheless. Still, it was heartening to see the man take an interest in the farm and work on something other than his science experiment.
While they'd let the crops mostly grow by themselves, their house had grown through hard labor. Elizabeth had a proper room of her own and no longer had to sleep in the common room. They were working on another addition as well, though John and Evan would have to arm wrestle to see which one of them would get to move out of the loft. It would be nice if they each had their own room before winter, even if they all dragged pallets back in close to the fire every night anyway.
He wondered where Teyla slept, and if she had someone to keep her warm during the winter. He'd never asked, though she'd mentioned a man named Halling once or twice. But surely if she did she wouldn't come out to the farm so often. John scuffed his boot at a last persistent weed. Of course, she spent most of her time with Rodney. Rodney, with his crooked smile and gruff outer layer that sometimes let through hints of...well, morelayers, complicated layers, one of which was turning out to be that of a good friend.
A bucket's worth of cold water hit John full in the face, and he sputtered, nearly tipping over. Wiping at his eyes, he looked up to see a grinning Evan, holding said bucket. "Sorry, sir, but you were looking a little sun-struck." His eyes widened in mock-terror at John's expression, and he dropped the bucket and ran.
John gave chase, and the two of them tore through the field, careful not to actually trample their crops, and ran all the way back to the house. They startled Elizabeth, who was working in the herb garden, but she laughed and waved as they passed by and leaped up the trail toward the mine.
Evan got ahead when John stumbled in a gopher hole and lost sight of his quarry. But he knew where Evan must be headed. He probably planned on giving Rodney a scare for good measure just to round out the day. John slowed to a walk and caught his breath until the stiffness in his ankle was gone, and broke into a military jog. He was just rounding the last bend when he realized Evan didn't know the first thing about finding his way through the caves. He had apparently gone inside anyway, or else John had misread Evan's intentions entirely. Since John was there, though, scaring Rodney seemed like a good idea. Not that he'd ever be able to sneak up on Teyla, but it would be good practice to try.
He lit one of the torches they'd stacked at the entrance--Rodney always left a bottle of his fire sticks and the ignition material in a small hole in the rock nearby--and headed inside. The immediate drop in temperature felt wonderful, and as John made his way deeper, he could feel his dampened shirt and hair grow cold until it was almost uncomfortable. He thought he knew where Rodney and Teyla would be, and took the middle tunnel that led to the large chamber where they'd first met Teyla.
She was seated awkwardly on the floor with her hands behind her back, and it took John a moment to realize that she'd been tied that way. He scrambled to her side, setting the torch in one of the stands. "Teyla?" He shook her shoulder and she blinked awake, staring at him wide-eyed.
"John?" She seemed unhurt, but his heart pounded a mile a minute as he checked for injuries and started working on the thick knots at her wrists.
"What happened?" He asked, wishing he'd brought his knife. Or his gun. He'd made that rule himself that spring, and here he'd run off like a fool completely unarmed. He pulled Teyla's jacket aside, but her own holster was empty.
"When Rodney and I arrived here, it was obvious that someone had slept in the cave last night," she said. "I told Rodney to hide nearby while I investigated the tunnels. Someone must have hit me from behind," she finished angrily. "John!" Her eyes darted behind him, and he turned, hand reaching for the torch.
"Don't." He was a bear of a man, taller than John by at least a head. John wouldn't have considered trying to take him in a fight, even if he didn't have Teyla's gun pointed at them. He wore leather clothing that almost matched his skin, though his face was shadowed by copious amounts of hair that hung to his shoulders.
"Okay." John tried to think. If the man meant to rob them, there wasn't much he'd get. If he meant to kill them, there wasn't much John could do about it. "Uh, look. We aren't looking for trouble. Why don't you let me finish untying my friend here. We could give you some food, supplies--whatever you need. You don't have to hurt anyone."
The stranger regarded John with suspicion. "You'd give me food? If I let you go?"
John exchanged a long look with Teyla. She obviously felt that this man wouldn't actually harm them, and for some reason John did, too. "Whatever you need," he replied.
"You go. She stays." The man crouched and leveled the gun at Teyla, and the circle of torchlight fell more solidly on his features. He could certainly use the food, John thought. Unlike the bandit who had threatened them a couple of months ago, this man clearly acted out of desperation rather than greed.
"I will be fine, John," Teyla assured him. John rose reluctantly and headed back through the tunnel, leaving the torch behind for Teyla and feeling his way along the wall.
He nearly ran into Evan as he emerged, just coming into the cave with Rodney behind him. "Are you okay?" Evan asked. "Rodney said someone was in the caves with Teyla. We were just going in to look for her."
"It's a long story," John answered. Then he got a better look at Rodney. He was rumpled and mud-stained, flushed and a little wild around the eyes. "Have a nice stroll through the woods?"
"I found him hanging upside down under a tree," Evan laughed. "Whoever made this his temporary home must have set some traps for bears."
"It's not funny," Rodney groused. "I was hanging there for almost an hour. My brain could have been damaged."
"Let's head back home and I'll explain what's going on," John said. He suspected if it came right down to it, they could have gone back in and overpowered the man right then, but things might get messy, and he'd rather deal with the loss of some supplies than a bullet hole.
He told the story once, and then had to tell it all over again to Elizabeth when they reached the house. She clucked her tongue, completely unfazed, and started pulling food from the pantry and cellar. Rodney protested the loss of their only ham and reminded them that it was his funds they were giving away to the man who had left him hanging gracelessly under a tree. John smacked the back of his head and told him to be charitable.
Within minutes John was hefting a huge pack onto his shoulders. He estimated it contained enough food to feed the man for weeks. It dragged against his sore shoulders and he realized he should have protested the addition of an entire ham, too. Or maybe not turned down Evan's offer to accompany him.
He lit another torch and made his way quickly to the chamber. The scene was unchanged from how he'd left it. The two of them might have been carved from the stone for all that they'd moved. No, John realized. The man had untied Teyla. That was a good sign.
"Hi folks, did you miss me?" John stepped into the middle of their staring contest and set down the bag of supplies. "Elizabeth packed all kinds of goodies--there's a whole ham in here, though Rodney was kinda upset about that. Not as upset as he was when your snare caught him, though." John nudged the bag with his toe and raised his eyebrows at Teyla.
She nodded in the direction of the stranger and said, "John Sheppard, meet Ronon Dex. I believe he has reconsidered your offer of supplies and may be staying on the farm for a while instead."
"Really." John looked at Ronon, who stared back defiantly. He knew Teyla could talk honey from an angry bee, but this was ridiculous. On the other hand, it was nearly harvest time, and wheat didn't cut, bundle, shock, thresh, and separate itself. He gave Ronon a wide smile. "Well, that sounds good to me." He looked down at the pack. "Rodney was right. Shouldn't have brought the ham."
The awkwardness only lasted a few minutes. When John and Teyla had shown up with Ronon in tow, Elizabeth had already had dinner started--earlier than usual, and about twice what she would normally cook. John didn't question her perceptiveness. Evan simply raised his eyebrows at John, but Evan knew him well enough to trust his judgment. Even though technically he was trusting Teyla's. Rodney was scowling furiously, and John was afraid there was going to be some friction there, especially when he stomped off around the back of the house even before the introductions were finished.
Ronon, for his part, seemed ready to run at any moment. It was possible that the smell of the cooking stew was the only thing keeping him from bolting. That, and Teyla's reassuring hand on his arm. John was curious about Ronon, though he didn't want to pry. The overall picture was pretty clear: Ronon was on the run, and John could think of one very good reason for him to be running. He didn't really need details. Those would come in time, if Ronon wanted to share them.
A clatter from the side of the house made John break off from staring. Rodney came into view, dragging along the large aluminum horse trough, which he dropped near the storage shed. "What?" he asked in reply to John's raised eyebrows. "The man needs a bath, and there's no way he's going to fit in our tub." He indicated Ronon's height and then said, "The water will probably smell like horses even if we rinse it out, but it's got to be better than..." He wrinkled his nose.
Elizabeth hid a smile by pulling out enough coals from the fire to heat some water. They gave Ronon as much privacy as they could by placing the tub on the far side of the shed. John handed him his largest work shirt, getting close enough in the fading light to see a pale mark on Ronon's neck in the shape of an "R." Ronon noticed John's look and said, "Tried to run away once before." When he stripped off his leather shirt, John saw with relief that the rest of him was unmarked, but his suspicion had been confirmed.
Being clean and well-fed seemed to make Ronon less nervous, but not really more talkative. They remained outside as darkness fell, talking about the harvest and what would need to be done, letting Ronon get to know them through idle chatter. He only spoke up once, thanking them in a low voice for their kindness.
By the time the moon had risen, John was just starting to wonder about sleeping arrangements. They were short on beds, especially if Teyla stayed, it being rather late to make the walk back home. Ronon said that he would be fine sleeping outside, and John moved to grab blankets for a pallet when Rodney spoke up. "You can sleep in my bed," he said in a rush. "I'll sleep on the floor. My back's been bothering me anyway. It will do me good for a while."
Ronon stared at him over the fire and then nodded slowly. He followed Rodney into the house, and the others trailed after. If that wasn't another complex layer of Rodney, John thought. He'd complained the whole journey out about having to sleep on the ground.
Evan volunteered to give John and Teyla the loft, and John was really too tired to argue. If they stepped up the work on the new room, and then added another... He sighed as he climbed the little ladder into the small space below the roof. Their household was getting decidedly complicated. Teyla climbed up behind him, and he realized he was moving by memory, used to the dark space as he was. He caught her hand and tugged her over the lip of the platform. "Keep your head low or you'll knock yourself out on a roof beam," he said. He did not add that he'd given himself bruises a couple times their first mornings there.
He crawled past the first feather mattress and reached for the long, plain linen shirt he wore for sleeping. Without thinking, he undressed down to his trousers and paused. Leather was really uncomfortable to sleep in, moreso at the top of the house where the heat from the day took longer to dissipate. John rummaged near the other mattress, grabbed Evan's night shirt, and handed it to Teyla. "You can sleep in this. Uh, if you would rather."
"Thank you, John." Teyla sounded amused. He turned and pulled on his own shirt, ignoring the rustle of leather and fabric, and the fact that his eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness. When he was certain that Teyla was settled, he pulled off his trousers and scooted under the blanket.
"Evan says I snore," he blurted into the silence. He'd meant to make it less awkward, but was glad of the darkness to cover the blush across his cheeks, and why hadn't he thought to shift the mattresses further apart? Evan kept pushing them together, ostensibly so that he could easily reach John and give him a good shove if he started "braying like a donkey" in the middle of the night, but John swore he was guilty of no such thing. Of course, Evan said that he laughed like that, too.
"You will not bother me," Teyla replied. "This mattress is quite comfortable, and I'm sure I will sleep soundly." She sighed and shifted, and John wondered again about her sleeping arrangements.
"Different from home, huh?" he asked, knowing he sounded curious. "Where do you sleep?"
"My people build bowers high in the trees," she replied, "made of honeysuckle vines and flowers. The bats bring us insects to feed upon and we sing them songs to tame them."
John rolled over to face her. "Wow, that's--" He laughed, feeling the tension ease. "All right, you got me. I'll shut up and go to sleep now." He settled back onto the mattress and closed his eyes.
Teyla broke the silence this time. "John, you know that Ronon is--"
"Yeah, I know," he said. "Doesn't matter now." They were all, except for Teyla, very, very far from their pasts.
Rodney awoke far earlier than usual, partly because early morning sunlight was hitting him square across the face, and partly because his back was hurting from shoulder to hip. He'd gotten used to a feather mattress again after all those weeks of sleeping on the ground. It took him several moments to sit up and he regretted every second of it. He looked over at his bed and saw that it was empty, though the blankets had been folded neatly across the top. Well. He hadn't been sure that Ronon would stay, though he'd probably have been safer at the farm than anywhere else. The Northwest Territory might be a free territory, but as long as Ronon looked like he was running, there would be men who would give chase.
Throwing his blankets across the chair, Rodney splashed water on his face and rinsed his mouth in the basin that sat on the windowsill. He looked longingly at the work sitting on his desk, but with the house all a-jumble from the previous day, he doubted he'd get much done until later. The house was still--it felt almost eerie, in fact; he didn't think he'd ever been the only one awake in it during the daylight. He glanced around the kitchen and saw that there was a freshly risen loaf of bread on the table, ready to bake, and his hands fluttered over it before settling on his black log book instead. Elizabeth's tidy handwriting filled the columns, a neat history of their short time on the farm. He gaped at the sums John had spent on seed, lumber, and tools, and then noticed another set of columns to the right with positive rather than negative balances, marked with nothing but mysterious initials.
He quickly flipped the book shut when he heard a stirring in Elizabeth's room. Time for that later. Reaching for the bread again and wondering how one baked it he said, "Elizabeth, I'm glad you're up. I was going to--"
At the sound of a polite cough, Rodney turned to find Evan standing in Elizabeth's doorway, dressed in rumpled clothing and clutching a blanket. "Oh," Rodney said. "Not Elizabeth, then." He blushed a deep crimson and pointed back at his own room. "Ronon left," he noted, realizing belatedly it wasn't a very successful attempt at keeping the subject away from sleeping arrangements.
"Nah, he's outside by the fire with Teyla," Evan replied, moving toward the loft and swinging onto a rung of the ladder.
"How can you possibly know that?" Rodney demanded. "You haven't been outside yet, you've been--" He considered several ways of ending that sentence and chose none of them.
"Sleeping?" Evan finished. He stopped halfway up the ladder and smiled down. "Use your senses, Rodney. Can't you smell the smoke? Teyla always makes a fire with cedar instead of oak. Ronon's boots are still by your door--" he rolled his eyes, "--but John is still in the loft; I can hear him snoring."
"Is that what that is?" Rodney peered into the darkness near the rafters. "I thought there was a raccoon chewing on the roof shingles."
"You should go hunting with us, Rodney. You need to learn to see the world around you." Evan disappeared from view and Rodney hurried out the front door, having no desire to have a similar not-conversation with Elizabeth when she emerged from her room.
Evan had been right. Teyla and Ronon sat next to the fire, and Teyla bent low over Ronon's feet, crushing an herb from the garden and placing the leaves against the skin. Rodney was grateful that there wasn't much skin left to see under the cover of leaves. John had told him a disgusting story over dinner once about a soldier who had gotten his feet wet crossing a river and had never changed his boots. Rodney had barely been able to finish eating.
He approached slowly and peered into the pot, hopeful for breakfast, but it contained only bandages and more herbs. He sighed. "What can I do to help?" He assisted Teyla in wrapping the medicine-soaked bandages around Ronon's feet, and although Rodney suspected that the procedure hurt like hell, Ronon didn't so much as flinch. Or speak, but Rodney thought that allowing the two of them to touch him was the man's equivalent of a deep and revealing conversation.
By the time they were finished, Elizabeth, John, and Evan had joined them outside to start breakfast and morning chores. Everyone tried not to watch Ronon eat, but the way he shoveled bacon, eggs, and bread into his mouth was fascinating. It was clear Rodney wasn't going to get his usual second helping. He started to gather the dishes with Elizabeth instead, and when John and Evan stood to go to the fields, Ronon rose to follow.
"Where do you think you're going?" John demanded.
Ronon straightened his spine, making the difference in their heights more apparent. He met John's gaze directly and replied, "Thought I was supposed to work."
John looked down at Ronon's bandaged feet and up again. "Not like that you're not."
Ronon shrugged. "Wouldn't have made a difference--"
"You're not--" John interrupted, then took a deep breath and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Look, we're happy have you stay here, okay? If you feel like you have to work, at least do it sitting down. There are some tools that need fixing and some tack that needs mending. It won't do you any good if your damn feet fall off." He turned and walked to the wagon and began to rummage in the tool box.
Rodney realized he was standing there with an armful of dirty dishes and hurried after Elizabeth. They worked in silence for a short while, scraping the plates clean and dunking them in the leftover laundry water. Rodney glanced at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eyes and saw that she was wiping the same plate over and over again, lost in thought. "Do you think whoever is chasing Ronon will find him here?" she asked.
"What if they do?" Rodney asked in return. He'd been wondering that himself.
Elizabeth turned toward him, a look of grim determination on her face. "This is our farm, Rodney. We all wanted--needed--to start a new life. If Ronon decides to stay with us, then it's his farm, too, and his chance for a new life." She gripped the plate so hard Rodney thought it might bend. "We'll do whatever we have to in order to keep everyone safe."
Rodney nodded and carefully took the plate out of her hands. He stacked it to the side, thinking that this was hardly how he'd expected his new life to be. And that reminded him of the notations Elizabeth had made in his log book. "I looked at the accounts this morning," he said. "What were those odd initials? Keeping track of all your admirers?"
Elizabeth relaxed her shoulders and turned away, suddenly focused on the dirty water. "Before I explain, please remember that you gave me permission to manage your account as I saw fit."
"Yes?" Rodney answered. He supposed that was near enough true; he hadn't so much as stepped foot in a bank since the day in Boston when he'd signed papers allowing her to draw funds on his account. He'd said he'd be too busy working to concern himself with all the details and had told her to purchase whatever she felt they needed.
"Galena isn't a very large town," Elizabeth said. "When we first went to the bank, there were several people there asking about loans, but the bank doesn't--" she cleared her throat. "It seemed like you had sufficient funds to make some small investments, so--"
"You gave away my money?" Rodney gaped at her.
"Rodney, I didn't give away your money," she said, holding her hands out placatingly. "Well, I did, but they were good investments--mostly people looking to start businesses in town. Those loans have already been paid back and you've made money on them."
Rodney continued to gape. "I have?"
"Yes," she answered with a smile. "The other loans were to small farmers like us--people looking to start a new life. If they can't pay us back after the harvest, the profit you've made from the businesses will more than have made up for it."
Rodney's mouth quirked up at the edges. "The money you've made," he corrected. He told himself he'd need to take a closer look at the log book. Knowing Elizabeth, she was probably understating the success of her venture. Next summer, or the summer after...if she and Evan wanted to build their own house, Rodney would make sure that she took her own fair share to get them started.
"Now," Elizabeth said briskly, "We'll need more water to start dinner, and with a new member in our household I had best think about what else I need to do."
Rodney offered to get the water and grabbed two empty buckets. The spring that had long ago shaped the mine ran clear and true into a pool a short walk into the trees. There were a lot of things they really hadn't had time for yet, like digging a proper well closer to the house. They hadn't put up a barn for the horses, and they only had eggs because Evan or Elizabeth went into town nearly every week. Rodney sighed and stood with the full buckets, wincing at the pain in his back. And Ronon would need his own room soon, because Rodney was not going to continue sleeping on the floor.
He'd give himself another week to finish the communication devices. After that, he told himself, he'd put them aside until winter and help with the farm instead. When Rodney had imagined his life out here it had involved food appearing on the table like it did in the public houses and the empty plates disappearing again without him being a part of anything except the eating. But when he'd helped to put seeds in the ground and gone back later to see bright green shoots bursting out of the soil, it had given him a feeling almost like watching one of his experiments succeed. Not that he'd ever tell John that.
Ronon was shaping a new handle for the axe when Rodney returned with the water. He set down the buckets and headed to his workroom. But he found the space suddenly too constricting and grabbed the pieces he was working on, heading back outside.
Arranging a pair of stools, he put his work on one and sat on the other a short distance from Ronon. "Where are Elizabeth and Teyla?" He asked, picking up the most recent version of the copper coil.
"Teyla went home," Ronon said. He eyed the axe handle critically and added, "Elizabeth went into town."
"So it's just us, then." Rodney considered several ways of turning the conversation toward Ronon without being too obvious about it. When John had taken the pack of food to the cave the night before, Rodney, Evan, and Elizabeth had tried to fit the pieces of the story together and had arrived at a grim conclusion. When John had arrived with Ronon in tow, Rodney had felt a sharp ache of sorrow and had hoped that they were wrong.
There were many things Rodney embraced about America, but certain aspects of it turned his stomach. Growing up in Canada he'd thought about slavery in purely political and moral terms--a thing to be debated and discussed, the way that he'd thought about paleontology by reading journals but had never seen a fossil until John showed him one. The debates had been more heated in Boston, but still far removed.
Rodney picked up a small tool and turned it in his hands. "I'm from Canada," He said for lack of a better opening. "But I--well, my father was very British. So I moved to Boston eight years ago and never looked back."
Ronon silently continued to work. Rodney sighed and tried a different tactic. "You know, Teyla's people are having some kind of harvest ceremony soon. There'll be lots of food, drinking, dancing, probably singing...Did you ever do anything like that at this time of year?"
"Sometimes." Ronon held the axe head against the end of the handle, then set the head down and carefully began to shave the end smaller.
Okay. So--not helpful. Rodney tried to picture Ronon singing and dancing, and failed miserably.
John leaned on the handle of his hoe and looked out over the rest of the field that he and Evan wanted to finish that day. He'd never thought there would be so many damn weeds. It took them almost as long to weed an acre as it had to plow it. Evan, a few rows over, straightened and winced, rubbing a hand along his back. He had been throwing John looks all morning, obviously wanting to talk about Ronon. John had finally settled some things in his own head, so he supposed maybe it was time to take a break. He gestured to Evan, and they walked to the water bucket, taking a long drink and splashing the dust from their faces.
They had a good view of the house and the horizon in all directions. The horses, pegged on long leads, nibbled on switchgrass and dropseed along the side of an unplowed slope in between the field and house. To the north of the house was the ridge leading to the bluff and the mine, which flattened out and curved back south to open out into the fields. On the far side of the fields was open prairie, and to the west in the distance was the Mississippi. John imagined that was how Ronon had found them.
"You think anyone's following him?" Evan asked, wiping his hands on his trousers. He, too, was gazing at the river, eyebrows drawn down in concentration. The way he looked, John remembered, when they were waiting for a British ship to appear over the horizon and attack the fort where they were stationed during the war.
John shrugged. "Seems like it'd be an awful waste of resources to come this far north." It would depend, John thought, on whether Ronon had hurt anyone getting away. "I think," he said, "we'd better teach everyone how to shoot a gun." He caught the flicker of surprise flash across Evan's face and continued, "Do you think if anyone has followed him, they'll be likely to sit down to tea and talk politely about it? We told Ronon he could stay, Evan. I'm not about to turn my back on a man who needs our help. What?" Evan had started laughing.
"It's not that," Evan said. "I agree with you about Ronon. I just know that you're going to make me do the teaching, and I was picturing Rodney trying to shoot a gun."
"Oh," John said. Then he chuckled and clapped Evan on the shoulder. "Well, you're right. Good luck." He turned toward the house, where he could just make out Rodney and Ronon. They'd moved away from the fire as the day had warmed, and were seated in the shade at the side of the house. Rodney was gesturing animatedly while Ronon bent over some small task, only the glare of the sun off a knife blade giving hint to any movement.
"It's kind of strange how Rodney took to Ronon like that," Evan commented as they picked up their tools and returned to their work. "He doesn't even go into town because he says he can't stand the people."
John quirked an eyebrow at Evan. "Wait a minute. You were with us for five weeks riding out here, weren't you? Rodney talked for three days about the 'appalling practice of American slavery,' and the unjust treatment of the natives. He practically chose this location because it was--how did he put it--'a conflict-free zone.'"
"I didn't really pay attention to him most of the time," Evan replied. "He never stopped talking. Ever." He paused with the iron blade of the hoe just above the soil and smiled. "Huh. Rodney talks all the time, and Ronon hardly talks at all. You ever see one of those odd places where a creek disappears into the ground, like the opposite of a spring?" John nodded and Evan continued, nodding up at two figures next to the house, "The water keeps flowing and flowing and flowing, and the ground just swallows it up."
John wouldn't say that life on the farm was exactly hectic during the next few weeks--after all, it was a farm, not a battlefield. But suddenly it seemed like everything needed to be done all at once. The late summer heat was wearing him down almost as much as having to prioritize every waking hour of his time. One day he'd be laying the foundation stones for the horse barn, and the next be off into the closest thicket of trees, worried about their supply of firewood for the winter. At least they'd finished the extra room on the house, though Ronon had asked to take over the loft. There was just enough space for Evan and John each to have their own bed along a wall and still have room to walk between.
Evan and Ronon tagged along gamely behind John every day, even when he left one project unfinished to start another. Rodney joined them too now, though usually with less enthusiasm and more grumbling. But today John had decided to go hunting, and Evan had stayed behind to help the others with their firearms lessons. Ronon apparently knew how to handle a weapon but had admitted he needed practice.
John shifted against the tree trunk, moving into a more comfortable position. He'd seen several deer move through this spot yesterday from the higher ground up at the house, and had found a sturdy oak overlooking the trail through the tall grass. It had been nothing but a long and fruitless wait so far. He tried not to think of other things he could have been doing instead.
The muffled retort of a pistol echoed against the hills as he scanned the horizon again. Maybe he should have gone all the way down to the creek. But the sound of gunfire wasn't much louder this far away than the noisy woodpecker a few trees over. Their worry over the appearance of pursuers had eased off when none had come, but Evan's weapons training had not. Elizabeth could reliably hit a target at a good distance; Rodney needed more work. Ronon's skill had returned with a little effort and he had joined Evan in his teaching, both more patient and exacting than John would have thought.
A knot in the tree was digging into John's spine no matter how he moved, and enough sunlight made it through the leaves to make him sweat. Feeling cranky, John gave up on his roost and climbed down. He could work on the barn, build the roof for the new well, or finish the corn crib. Or, he decided, scratching at the imprint of bark on the back of his legs, he could go swimming. Surely a quick dip in the creek would make him able to work harder later.
It was much cooler in the shade where the trees grew closer together along the creek, and John tried to quell the itch for his axe when he spotted a hickory that would make good chips for the smokehouse. Relax,he told himself. He found the spot where the water formed a deeper pool and stripped off his clothes. He left his rifle and powder on top of the pile and stepped into the creek. The first second left an aching shock of cold that pebbled his skin with goosebumps. He stepped deeper and watched several little fish dart to find shelter in the crevices on the stony bottom.
The pool was barely shoulder-height in the middle, but deep enough to float in. John found a spot where he could see blue through the leaves and watched the clouds chase each other across the sky. By the time his toes were beginning to go numb, he wasn't thinking about anything much except to wish that the summer could last longer.
His ears perked up at the sound of a crackle in the undergrowth. Thinking he'd finally get his chance at a deer, John moved toward the bank, keeping his head low. He climbed out and kept to a crouch, reaching for the rifle. Whatever it was, he decided, feeling a nervous trickle down his spine, was making too much noise for a deer. Or even a bear. Only people made that much noise. Reaching frantically for his trousers, John tucked his rifle under his arm and tried to look as threatening as possible.
"John! There you are!" Rodney walked into sight between two trees, and John let out a huff of relief. "I hit the target today," Rodney continued, as if John was not crouched naked in front of him holding his trousers in one hand and his gun in the other.
John tried to pretend his heart wasn't beating a mile a minute. He set the rifle on the ground and stood, shaking out his pants and holding them in front of him. "That's great, Rodney. Really." John fidgeted awkwardly. He didn't really mind being naked in front of another man, but Rodney was just standing there staring at him. John jerked his chin toward the trees, but Rodney didn't take the hint. He shuffled sideways and shook his pants again. He cleared his throat. Rodney continued to watch him expectantly. Finally John said, "Look, if you want to swim, I was just about to--"
The tall grass at the edge of the trees exploded in movement and John barely had time to throw up his arms in defense before Ronon barreled into him, carrying them both into the water. John came up sputtering, his hair hanging into his eyes. Ronon emerged a moment later and shook his head, throwing water droplets everywhere. He grinned wickedly and said, "Thought you had military training."
"That was not fair!" John protested. "You used Rodney as a decoy!" He glared up at Rodney, who was doubled over in mirth.
"His idea," Ronon said, stripping off his sodden shirt and tossing it on the bank.
"Oh, really?" John turned and stepped closer to shore.
Rodney untucked his shirt and rolled his eyes. "Please. As if you haven't scared me near to death half a dozen times. This doesn't bring us anywhere close to even." He pulled his shirt off and said, "I'm coming in anyway so it's pointless to pull me in. And also--" he pointed, "your trousers are getting away."
John followed Rodney's finger, and sure enough, his pants had floated to the downstream edge of the pool and were in danger of being caught in the faster currents. With a curse, John splashed through the water and gave chase.
By the time he'd dragged them back and wrung them out, Rodney was hip-deep in the pool and Ronon sat semi-submerged on a large boulder. John was too chilled to stay in the water, so he sat in a sunny spot on the bank instead. "So Rodney," he said after a while, "you said your shooting's getting better. That is good. Ready to try your luck at hunting yet?"
"Me? No, I think I'd rather keep shooting at wooden targets." Rodney splashed water on to his head and shivered at the cold. "I don't know where he learned to shoot, but Ronon's a good teacher."
Ronon shrugged, and John remained silent, hoping the relaxed environment would encourage him to speak. Ronon had slotted comfortably into place on the farm, but had neither talked about his past nor asked questions about theirs. After a moment, Ronon said in a low voice, "I was in the military, too."
"What--here?" John asked, surprised.
Ronon shook his head. "Saint-Domingue, in the West Indies. I fought against the French."
John looked to Rodney, and sure enough, the man was tapping his fingers together, thinking. "There was a rebellion, right?" Rodney asked. Ronon nodded. "The slaves and free islanders fought for over a decade against the French slave owners." The man was a walking Encyclopedia. Rodney looked at Ronon with open curiosity. "But where were--I mean, how did you--"
"My mother was a native islander," Ronon said. "I grew up free. It was different than it is here. After the first wave of colonists came with their slaves, the island was sorta left alone for a long time. When France got Saint-Domingue they started bringing in a lot of slaves again, but there were so many people with mixed bloodlines who were free, it just...it didn't settle well. I was old enough to fight near the end of the war." John didn't dare speak now. Even Rodney was silent. "After it ended, I was working for a trading company. Our ship was attacked, and I woke up on another ship headed to America."
"How long--?" John asked.
Ronon grimaced and slid off the boulder. "Seven years," he replied, ducking his head under the water and making it clear it was the end of the conversation.
Teyla emerged from her tent and surveyed the village. The final preparations for the harvest ceremony were nearly finished, and everywhere she looked, she saw smiles and laughter. It had been a very good year, with rain falling as it should and warmth holding through the harvest. There would be no shortage of winter stores, as had happened in the past. Everything around her told Teyla that it would be a peaceful winter. Her dreams lately told her otherwise, but they had been nothing more than scattered, fearful images. Perhaps they were only nightmares.
Shaking off a sense of unease, Teyla focused on her own tasks. The vines that everyone had carefully shaped around their door frames tent poles had finally bloomed, decorating the village with dark blue and purple flowers. She carefully tucked a few hanging blossoms out of the way of the opening and headed toward the area that was reserved for food preparation. Everything seemed chaotic at first glance, but there was an underlying order to the hustle and bustle.
Teyla settled gracefully to the ground next to Charin, who stirred a large pot of tuttle root soup, its spicy aroma dispelling the last of Teyla's worry. Tuttle root grew in early spring, and they always saved the last of it for the festival. Charin looked up at her with a broad grin that sent crinkles spreading out across her face. "Teyla! Not so busy today that it keeps you from checking in on me, hmm?"
"Never that busy," Teyla replied, patting Charin's knee. "I made the rounds to see who needed help once today and was just about to go again."
"And did Jinto and Wex bring a big, fat turkey back from their hunt?" Charin chuckled.
Teyla stiffened. She hadn't known that the two boys had gone hunting. Surely they hadn't gone alone? Halling would have said something; he was always worrying about his son. "I haven't seen them," Teyla replied, standing. "But I will find out."
Halling was standing with a few other men near the fire where a large haunch of venison was being roasted, and at first glance he didn't seem troubled. But then Teyla noticed how tensely he held his shoulders, and that he kept looking toward the trees every few moments. When he saw Teyla approach, he turned from his conversation and visibly sagged, clearly reading the concern on Teyla's face. "I'm sorry. I should have said something earlier," he began. "The boys sneaked out this morning and only told Charin where they were going." He ran a hand over his forehead and added, "I sent Marta to look for them a little while ago with instructions to bring them back. Dragged by their collars if necessary."
"I'm sure they are fine," Teyla told him. Jinto was of the age when he felt it necessary to prove himself, even though he wasn't quite old enough to be sent out on his spirit journey yet. That would happen next summer perhaps, if Halling decided it was time. For all that Halling tried to teach his son patience, Teyla thought that Jinto's eagerness would win him the battle on that issue. It would be easier to give in and pretend that the decision had been Halling's all along.
Still, Jinto's only responsibility for the day had been to meet John and the others where the path from the mine split into several small game trails at the top of the ridge and guide them to the village. She could send out one of the other boys, but by this point John's group would probably have tried to find the way on their own. Recalling the stories Rodney had told her about their journey, Teyla wondered if they would end up down near the lake, in the grasslands to the south, or somewhere else entirely.
That would make two missing parties, and the feast was set to begin shortly. Halling placed a hand on her shoulder. "We must trust that all will be well, Teyla. Shall we send a few of the hunters out to gather your friends?"
A commotion at the edge of the tents interrupted her answer. Teyla and Halling hurried toward the noise, and both let out audible sighs of relief when they saw the source of the commotion. John and the others had arrived with the two errant boys. Jinto rode on John's shoulders and Wex on Ronon's; the boys' faces were flushed with happiness as they each gestured and spoke over the other.
"Look what we found!" John called to Teyla. He lifted Jinto from his shoulders and set the boy on the ground. Ronon crouched and let Wex climb down, and the two boys rushed toward Teyla and Halling.
"We got a turkey for the feast!" Jinto exclaimed, pointing back at the group. Evan, who was carrying the large bird, obligingly lifted it higher so they could admire it.
Teyla tried to sound stern, but it was difficult in the face of such enthusiasm. "Jinto, you were supposed to guide John to the village, not go off hunting."
"I know," he said. "But I didn't want to just stand there and wait all day. So Wex and I decided to take our slings with us. And look!" He was practically jumping up and down in his excitement.
Halling crouched in front of his son. "We were worried about you," he said. "You only told Charin that you were going off to hunt. Perhaps you should have asked permission to leave early and to take Wex?" The other boy's parents were pushing through the small crowd that had gathered, relief evident on their faces.
Wex pouted and said, "Sorry, Halling." His mother took his arm and led him away, and as he passed by Jinto he gave the boy a light punch on the arm and said, "Told you we shouldn't have."
"Jinto?" Halling waited in front of his son.
"Sorry. I shouldn't have gone off without permission," Jinto said quietly.
"And?"
"And I won't do it again." Jinto was looking down at the ground, digging his toe into the dirt. If he kept that promise, Teyla would eat a basket of sour teaberries.
The other villagers had already started to introduce themselves to John and the others, and someone had taken Jinto's turkey from Evan. Teyla placed her hands on John's shoulders and brought her forehead to his, welcoming him to the feast. She repeated the formal greeting with the the rest of the group, though Elizabeth also pulled her into a quick hug and said, "Thank you. I think we all really needed to get away for a little while."
Teyla saw that they were all wearing their best clothing, and Ronon had on a new shirt and trousers that must have been tailored for him in town. A few of the village women were giggling at Rodney's vest and tie, but he seemed not to notice. She gestured at them to be about their business and led the group toward her tent. "Most of us will sleep outside tonight," she said. "The singing and dancing will continue quite late, so we will take blankets with us. But if any of you would be more comfortable in a bed, you may sleep here." She pulled back the tent flap, showing them the tidy area with its few stored possessions, scented herbs hanging from the poles, and the platform bed at the back with the down-filled mattress she'd stuffed herself.
"Bowers in the trees," John laughed. "I hope you're not going to feed me any insects as a joke."
Rodney looked at him in horror. "Insects?"
"None of the food contains insects, Rodney," Teyla said with a quirk of her lips, letting the tent flap drop. "The others are leaving for the festival. We should join them."
They followed the flow of people uphill through the thinning trees and out onto the prairie. A large area had been cleared down to the soil. They could see a glimmer of the lake over the edge of the rise where Teyla and Halling liked to sit in the evening; the rest of the horizon was wide open. There were fires set in a large ring around the clearing, embers banked low and warm. Each one hosted a different dish that had been prepared earlier and people were making their way from one to another, piling wooden plates high. In between the fires there were greens and fruits, barrels of water and casks of wine. Outside of the fires, a band of grass had been kept short and soft and was dotted with the blankets people had brought.
Teyla led her friends around the circle, explaining unfamiliar dishes and introducing them to people. She was heartened to see Jinto apologizing to Marta near one of the fires; that made everyone accounted for. Teyla helped herself to a bowl of Charin's soup and sat down on the blankets they'd placed near the musicians.
Everyone settled in around her, and the talk turned to food--what went into which dish, and how the various meats were roasted. Teyla did her best to answer them but admitted she wasn't much of a cook herself. She was glad they seemed to like everything, but was especially pleased with Rodney's assessment of Charin's soup.
"This is fantastic," Rodney said, spooning another mouthful. "Carrots, potatoes, squash, chicken, but...what's the flavoring?"
"Tuttle root," Teyla said.
"Wild ginger," Evan said at the same time. Then he grinned and added, "Well, the leaves are kind of turtle-shaped, I guess."
"Whatever it is, I need to go get more," Rodney said, heading back to Charin's kettle.
Teyla smiled at Evan but had no opportunity to correct him on the name of the plant, for John had taken a gulp of ruus wine.
"Whoah!" John sputtered for a moment, squinted down at the cup, and took another drink. "That's...wow. Sweet, but with a kick."
Evan and Ronon looked down at their cups skeptically and took cautious sips. Ronon grinned and drank more; Evan looked over at Teyla and asked, "Maple syrup?"
"And rose hips," she confirmed.
Elizabeth smirked as Evan coughed on a larger swallow and set his cup back down. She raised her own and drank, nodding at the flavor. "Not bad."
Rodney returned with another bowl of soup and a full plate, and each of them in turn wandered off to speak with other people and to get more food. By the time the sky was darkening to a deep indigo, the village children were gathering the empty plates to be washed. Jinto was back in high spirits, and didn't even seem to mind that there hadn't been time to prepare his turkey.
Two men moved out to the center of the circle, and Teyla explained that there would be tests of strength and agility to begin the evening festivities. A circle was drawn in the dirt, and the two faced off in the middle. It was a simple contest--whoever pushed the other out of the circle was the winner.
While the group watched the wrestlers, Teyla watched them. Rodney was certainly more at ease around everyone than when they'd first arrived, and not nearly so skittish. John had lost some of his wariness, though he seemed to be taking the burden of making the farm successful squarely on his shoulders. The sadness Teyla thought she'd glimpsed in Elizabeth's eyes was gone, and she imagined that might have something to do with the way Evan's face glowed when he looked at her. And Ronon smiled now, and laughed with them, and Teyla wished that nothing had to change from the way it was right then.
Rodney was so full he hoped that no one would make him move for at least a day. He didn't even care that he'd be sleeping on the ground. He didn't even care that John was telling Halling about their journey west and had gotten most of the events out of order. Or that Ronon was getting up to wrestle in the circle. Well, maybe he cared a little. He propped himself up on his elbows and chuckled at the look of amazement on the other man's face as Ronon approached. The audience stomped their feet appreciatively, and several people threw pieces of cloth embroidered with ribbon or bits of jewelry into a pile off to the side. "Are they making bets?" Rodney asked.
"No," Teyla answered. "They want to encourage a good match. The winner may keep the offerings or give the items as gifts to other contestants."
It was a good match, though Ronon's opponent never really had a chance. Ronon used his greater height and reach to his advantage, and within a few minutes had thrown the other man over the edge of the ring. This received more foot stomping, and someone had to explain to Ronon about his prizes, which made the stomping even louder. "They think he's being modest," Teyla laughed.
Rodney sat up further and considered getting more of the ruus wine. Whoever had thought to make wine from maple syrup was a genius. But his head was already starting to swim even though he'd only had two--or was it three?--cups so far. And the sky was now almost dark, the fires were rising high as pots were taken away and wood was added, and he was so, so perfectly comfortable.
Ronon plopped down next to them, arms full of cloth and jewelry. "I'm supposed to give it away, I guess," he said, pulling out a beautiful necklace of tiny beads and handing it to Teyla. He chose a thick wrist band made of dark stone and handed it to John. Rodney received a thinner bracelet with beads made from galena spaced with bits of smooth glass. Ronon was looking through the rest of the items when Teyla put a hand on his wrist.
She looked embarrassed. "It is customary to place items near the circle for contestants or to thank the dancers and singers," she said. "If you give them to anyone else it is considered...a gift of regard."
"A what?" Ronon asked, eyes widening. He glanced over at the the other villagers and saw that many of them were watching the proceedings avidly.
"It means you intend to woo them," Halling said, rising from his place next to John and trying not to laugh.
"I don't. Mean to," Ronon stuttered, reaching for Rodney's bracelet.
Rodney snatched his hand back and said, "No way. I'm keeping this. It's pretty." He slipped the bracelet onto his arm and tucked a blanket over himself, hiding it from view.
Ronon looked over at John, who cheerfully held up his own bracelet-adorned wrist and waggled it. Teyla laughed and slipped the necklace over her head. There was more foot stomping from around the circle, and Ronon flopped onto his back.
Evan reached over and poked John in the shoulder. "Challenge you," he said with a smirk.
"Oh, come on." John flapped a hand at him. "We're all dressed up and, and...respectable tonight."
Evan pretended to examine his fingernails and replied, "Hmm...well, I suppose you wouldn't want to be embarrassed when I win, anyway."
John furrowed his brows and stuck out his lip. "When you win? I don't think so."
"They're like children," Rodney commented, watching the two men rise and head toward the circle. On most days he might say it was an even match, but he was pretty sure Evan hadn't drunk any of the ruus wine beyond the first sip. John, on the other hand, was looking decidedly unsteady.
Ronon sat up with a grunt and said, "Hey, I can give some of this stuff away now." He started gathering the cloth and jewelry then turned to Teyla and asked, "That's not weird, is it?" Teyla shook her head, and Ronon headed off to dump a portion of his winnings into a pile for whichever of their friends won the match.
They had to wait for the current round to end, and Rodney made himself more comfortable, appropriating blankets from the space around him. Ronon grabbed one back when he returned, but Rodney didn't care, because now he and Teyla had someone to lean against. When John and Evan finally stepped into the circle, they all clapped and stamped their feet with everyone else. Elizabeth even whistled, and Rodney was pretty sure he knew who she was rooting for.
The two men stood still for a moment, and then John moved suddenly, coming in low and hooking an arm around Evan's waist. He managed to push Evan a good foot backward before Evan hooked a leg around John's ankle and threw him off balance. John let go of Evan in order to catch himself and it was Evan's turn to move in. They went back and forth, neither seeming to have the advantage, and Rodney thought back to all the times they'd come in from the fields looking like they'd been rolling around in the dirt. They probably had been, Rodney realized.
As the match wore on, the crowd grew louder and several new items were thrown around the ring. Rodney didn't think John and Evan were as graceful as the other wrestlers had been, but he supposed they were something of a novelty. Finally the two men locked their arms together and shoved, hands on each other's biceps in a battle of brute strength. John gained ground, pushing Evan nearly to the edge of the ring, when Evan suddenly let go and ducked under John's arms. With a look of complete surprise, John fell flat on his face halfway out of the ring.
The crowd hooted and roared as John rose and dusted himself off. He glared at Evan, who stood with his arms crossed, looking smug. "That was a dirty trick," he said, then started laughing. "And I should have remembered that I did that to you last week."
John helped Evan gather his prizes and they settled back amongst the group. Rodney tried not to pay attention as Evan selected a bracelet with intricately carved wooden beads and fastened it around Elizabeth's wrist. Instead he focused on the decorated men and women who were now gathering in a group as fresh wood was laid on the fire. It was fully dark now, and the firelight gleamed against skin, leather, and paint. The last shone almost silver, and Rodney realized it was made from the ore. He rubbed his fingers across the beads of his bracelet, thinking wistfully of his all but forgotten science experiment.
A drum started, and then a flute. Soon there was movement, and Rodney was pulled in by the graceful sweeps and dips of the dancers. After a while the tempo increased and the dancers followed the beat, adding jumps and turns, stepping and twisting around each other in a way that seemed almost choreographed but had a spontaneity that was clearly more skill and practice than planning. New dancers replaced by others as they became tired, and Rodney found himself worn out just watching. He settled more comfortably against Ronon and tried not to close his eyes.
A little while later his head slid off Ronon's shoulder and he jerked awake. Ronon poked him with his elbow again and said, "They're singing now. Thought you might want to watch." Rodney tried to pull the blanket tighter around his shoulders and found that John had laid down on his stomach on his other side and was using Rodney's leg as a pillow. He was stretched out with his arm across Rodney's knee and his chin tucked into the crook of his elbow, the other half of the blanket tucked over his back. Rodney grunted, and John took this as a sign to hand him a fresh cup of ruus wine that someone had procured.
The singer was well into the first song, and Rodney was surprised to find that he was singing in French. "What's he singing about?" John asked, sounding sleepy.
"The harvest, the fields, uh...love," Ronon answered.
"You speak French," John said, raising his head. Ronon looked down at him and raised an eyebrow. "Right. French colony. Sorry."
Rodney had already realized that and had found that Ronon was more talkative when speaking his native language. Well, a little. When Rodney had tried to explain how his communication devices should work he'd gone into detail about wire coils and sound waves and Ronon had simply stared at him and shook his head. Then he'd tried again in French and Ronon's face had lit up in understanding. He'd promised to help Rodney test them when he got them working.
Rodney looked beyond the fires and wondered how late it was. All of the villagers seemed wide awake, even the children. The Sheppard Homestead--even he called it that--had been working from dawn to dusk harvesting wheat and hay for several days now and they weren't quite finished. Then they'd have to start on the corn while the wheat dried in bundles. After that would come the difficult work of threshing and husking. In the meantime, their potatoes and other fall garden crops would be ready to harvest. The villagers were obviously already done with that--thus the festival. They had more people to do the work, but mathematically speaking, Rodney thought, they had they had that much more food to bring in. He'd be ready to sing a happy song when they were finally done with it all, too.
A new singer stood as the first finished, and Rodney leaned forward when he saw that it was Teyla. He hadn't realized she'd left the group. Her voice was strong and clear, and though Rodney didn't understand the words this time, her song expressed a quiet joy and left him with a feeling of peace.
Near the song's end, Ronon shifted from under Rodney and stood with the last of his remaining trinkets. On the other side of John, Evan laid out an embroidered cloth and wrapped a few pieces of jewelry in it. They walked to the circle and quietly placed their offerings on the ground near Teyla.
Rodney drained the last of his ruus wine and knew that no matter what the rest of the night had to offer, it couldn't compare to Teyla's song or compete with the sleep that fluttered behind his eyelids. Ronon settled back into place next to him with Teyla on his other side; Evan curled up against Elizabeth on the far side of John, whose head was still pillowed on Rodney's leg. With a sigh of utter contentment, Rodney closed his eyes and fell asleep again.
John tied another bundle of wheat and stood it on end to dry. The day was a little cooler, which was both a relief and a warning. He thought that they were making good time, but an early cold would leave them in trouble. They wouldn't starve--they could always rely on Rodney's bank account to get through the winter--but his pride demanded that they finish what they had started. A breeze stirred, and John cocked his head, listening. He could swear he heard singing.
He looked over at Elizabeth and saw that she was gazing toward the top of the ridge. A moment later several people appeared over the crest of the hill, and John waved when he recognized Teyla and a few of the other villagers. "What in the world?" Elizabeth murmured, shaking out her skirt from where she'd tucked it into her waistband to work.
Evan, Ronon, and Rodney joined them as Teyla and the others approached. There were five of them in all, including Halling, Jinto, the man Ronon had wrestled, and a young woman John hadn't met. Jinto ran ahead of the others and and stopped in front of John, announcing in a breathless rush, "Good morning John Sheppard we came to help!"
"Whoah, slow down," John said. "You came--?" He looked up at Teyla, who smiled in greeting.
"It was Jinto's idea," Teyla said. "You spoke with him on the way to the festival about not being finished with your harvest yet, and he...commandeered our assistance."
Halling sighed. "Just try to deny him anything," he said, giving his son an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
John felt a rush of good spirits that spread across his face in a wide smile. "Wow, that's--wow. Thank you," he said, wishing there was a better set of words for gratitude on this scale.
Teyla introduced the two people that John didn't know. The woman was Balera, Jinto's cousin; she shared Jinto's mischievous eyes and deep dimples and clearly thought the outing would be a fun adventure. The other villager was named Kanaan, and he extended a hand to Ronon, saying, "I'll expect a rematch next year."
Ronon shook his hand and nodded. "It was a good match. Thanks. You know--for coming out here."
Kanaan shrugged. "You're Teyla's friends," he said.
With their workforce doubled it was a very productive day. And week, for they returned every day until the wheat and corn harvest was done. Teyla confided her suspicion that Jinto hoped John would take him hunting when the farm work was finished. "He is a good shot with a rifle, but Halling won't let him go out alone," she told him. John vowed they'd bring back a huge buck.
The help Teyla and her friends gave allowed them to move ahead on all their other work. And so by the time the leaves had fallen and the morning dew had begun to frost, half their corn was stored for planting and the other half was husked, the wheat was threshed, and bundles of hay were stacked in the new barn. Firewood was piled to the roof on every side of the house and the cellar was full of smoked meat and vegetables from the garden. Everyone felt like they could let out a breath they hadn't even been aware of holding. They were ready for winter.
***
The first snow fell in the middle of the night and had almost melted as soon as the sun came up. Rodney had taken to working later at night again, and so by the time he rose it was gone completely. He walked into the common room and blinked sleepily at Elizabeth, then sat down next to her at the table and mumbled a good morning.
Elizabeth patted him on the shoulder and said, "There's some coffee over by the fire, and probably some bacon, too. The men are outside putting sleigh runners on the wagon. Get some breakfast and we'll go out and make sure they're not getting into too much trouble."
Rodney stuffed several pieces of bacon in to a heel of bread and poured the last of the coffee. They found the others gathered around the wagon, missing its wheels and held off the ground by tall logs. John and Evan were arguing affably about something as Ronon watched, arms wrapped around himself and fingers tucked under his arms. He said the cold wasn't bothering him yet, but Rodney wondered how he'd feel in January.
Taking another bite of his sandwich, Rodney wondered how he'd feel in January. Five people in one small space would be...awfully close. He pondered whether he should have sneaked supplies and firewood out to the mine so that he could escape when the confines of the house got to be too much. Then Elizabeth started to laugh at something John said, offering a suggestion on how to attach the shafts to the axles. Evan and Ronon lifted one side of the wagon higher, Elizabeth took hold of the axle, and John called, "Rodney! Get over here--we could use another pair of hands!" Rodney gulped his coffee and hurried over. He felt a rush of pleasure at being asked to help; of feeling like he was needed. Maybe...maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Between them, they got the wagon in working order with only one slightly mashed finger (John's) and one bruised shin (Rodney's). But they were all in high spirits by the time it was done and planning a long ride over the prairie after they had good, deep snow. Ronon looked skeptical about that, and Rodney reassured him that it was perfectly safe.
But it wasn't safety that concerned Ronon. "The snow that fell this morning," he said, "you get enough of it that you can pull the wagon over it on those things?"
"Boy, are you in for a surprise," John called cheerfully, rolling a wagon wheel toward the barn.
Ronon frowned at John, and Rodney grabbed his sleeve, leading him toward the house. "Technically the horses pull it. But never mind. I think I finished two of my devices last night, and you promised to help me test them." He led the way to his workroom, where he picked up two of the copper-wrapped crystals, now housed in wooden cases that Evan had made for him. A larger copper cylinder sat on the desk. That was attached by more copper wire through knots in the wall planks to a long metal pole fixed to the outside of the house. It looked something like a lightning attractor, but instead of a glass ball at the top, there were rays of metal jutting out like a sunburst.
Rodney made sure the handle on the largest cylinder was in the correct place, and they headed outside. "We need to start closer together, but I also want to test the range," Rodney explained. He showed Ronon how to turn the small handle so that it would move the inner workings up or down on the copper coil until both sets were adjusted to match. "We'll know they're right when we can hear each other."
"If you say so," Ronon said, turning the box in his hands. He walked a few yards away and they started experimenting. Rodney knew that the smaller devices were finicky; the large set with its broader grooves would be picking up sound from both of them already--he'd tried that last night. But the much smaller copper coils in the hand-held sets required relatively more precision.
Finally he turned the handle a fraction of an inch and heard Ronon's voice in a scratchy echo sound through the hollow bottom of the box. Rodney waved excitedly and the sound cut off. He sighed and tried to remember that jiggling the devices around too much meant having to adjust them all over again. Then he broke into a broad grin. "It worked. Ha!" For a moment he wished he could walk into one of the coffeehouses in Boston and prove to the pompous crowd that he'd been right. Then he realized that he had all the audience he needed right there. He tucked the device against his chest and turned toward the house to show John, Evan, and Elizabeth. They were suitably impressed, showing genuine interest and leaving Rodney feeling elated and ready to try more.
John and Evan left to meet Jinto for their promised hunting excursion, and Rodney, Ronon, and Elizabeth tested the range of the devices. By midday they'd figured out that the two small devices would work from well over a mile away, though they tended to relay sound to each other with patchy results. The large construct at the house didn't have the same trouble; its capacity to pick up sound seemed far greater. But it wouldn't transmit sound, so Rodney stayed at the house to tinker with it while Elizabeth and Ronon made a game of finding the dips and rises along the ridge where the sound was clearest, reciting bits of verse to Rodney that got sillier as the day wore on.
They finally called it quits in order to start supper. Elizabeth and Ronon handed the boxes back to Rodney with congratulations that he'd finally had success. "You really are a genius," Elizabeth said fondly. "Your friends back in Boston are going to be amazed when you show them these." Then she paused and placed a hand on his arm. "I know you must be eager for spring to arrive so you can return. I just...I want you to know that we'll miss you. When you leave." She hurried off, leaving Rodney tingling like he was covered in a fresh fall of snow.
When he left. He looked down at the devices in his hands. That was the only reason he'd come out here, after all. Then he looked around the farm. He'd helped to place the stones in the foundation of the barn. He could see the crooked part of the corn crib where he'd worked on it. And he'd picked a lot of the corn that was stored in it, too. The people he knew back in Boston--they weren't really his friends. Just people he'd wanted to impress. No, his friends were here.
There was nothing like a northern winter to make a man really bored. There were only so many times he could re-read A Swiss Family Robinson and Elizabeth had declared mumbletypeg off-limits after John had nearly sliced off a toe (but won the game). He rolled onto his back and looked up at the others. Elizabeth had started teaching Rodney how to sew after he'd complained for the tenth time about having nothing to do. John had scoffed at first, thinking that it would never last, but Rodney's ability to work on tiny things with his hands translated well to the task. They were working on a quilt together; their small, even stitches spread out in a pattern of leaves across a patchwork of green, brown, and yellow fabric. They'd decided the first quilt would be for Teyla as a thank-you for the harvest feast. John thought that Rodney looked nearly as proud of the quilt as he had of his little communication boxes, something John still marveled over.
Evan was teaching Ronon how to carve wood--another set of shared skills that almost overlapped, as Ronon displayed a fearsome ability to hit any target with a throwing knife. Evan's artistic ability had been almost wasted in the practical application of making furniture, and now that he had the time, decorative pieces had been appearing all over the house, from bowls and cups to little toys for the younger village children. There was a growing pile of wood shavings around the two men as they worked. Ronon was carving a face from a knot of wood; someone he knew from back home, John thought. Evan was carving a figure of a leaping buck for Jinto--a memento of their first hunt together.
Everyone but John seemed able to sit still for hours on end. He wished he were good at something like that, but he didn't really have the patience for it. He rolled to his feet and stretched. "I'm going to take a walk outside," he said. The others took his announcement serenely, used to his restlessness. John put on his boots, grabbed his wool coat, and headed out the door.
As he shrugged into his jacket, he considered the direction he'd take. He'd stomped fresh trails all through the prairie and woods every time a fresh snow had fallen, finding that the soft stillness brought him enough inner peace to keep him contentedly idle in front of the fire for another few days. Or failing that, he'd split firewood until his back and arms ached.
He hadn't been over the ridge in a while. There were a lot of game trails there, and if he found a fresh deer trail, he could probably talk Evan or Ronon into going hunting with him tomorrow. He headed upslope, eying the dark clouds in the west that would likely bring more snow by the evening. Snow-covered seed heads and dried flowers poked up here and there as John broke a new trail through the knee-high powder. He kept an eye out for scat and deer beds, but only saw mouse tunnels and rabbit prints, along with one set of horse tracks that looked like someone from town was headed to one of the outlying farmsteads. Once he thought he spotted a deer through the trees in the distance, but a moment later a figure emerged from the treeline and waved. John hurried over, waving back to Teyla as he approached. He hadn't seen her much since the snow had started falling, and he found that he missed her frequent visits to the farm.
But it didn't seem like she was out for a friendly call today. Her face was lined with worry, and she was bundled in several layers of warm furs and leather. "John. It is good to see you," she said, grasping his forearm. "But I was hoping that Jinto and Wex would be with you. Did they come out to the farm today?"
"They boys are missing?" John asked, feeling a knot of worry work itself through his belly. "No, we haven't seen them."
Teyla sighed. "They disappeared before the sun rose, while enough snow was still falling to cover their tracks. I had hoped they came out here to ask you to take them hunting." She chewed her bottom lip, brows wrinkling. "Everyone who is able is out looking for them, but--" she glanced up at the sky and the looming clouds.
"They know their way around though, right?" John asked. "Jinto seemed pretty sure of himself when we were out hunting."
"Halling has been...a little overprotective of Jinto since the boy's mother died," Teyla responded. "And Wex is too young to have been out hunting with the men yet. They wouldn't get lost anywhere near the village, but if they wanted to avoid being found..."
John nodded. "Right. Let's go back to the house. The others will be glad to help." John knew every dip and bend of his own land, but the stretches between the farm and the village and to the north toward town were unfamiliar. He doubted the boys would have gone south, as they would be visible for miles on the flat prairie.
When they went in through the front door, the warm greetings offered to Teyla quickly turned to expressions of concern and offers to aid in the search. Everyone bundled into their warmest clothes and Rodney disappeared into his room, emerging with three of the little wooden-cased devices. "Thought I'd have more done by now," he said, "but at least there's one for each pair." He quickly showed one to Teyla, who had heard more than once about how they worked.
"That is wonderful, Rodney," she said, sounding genuinely pleased for his success.
They agreed on a plan and split up into pairs. John and Teyla headed toward the village to search the area between there and the farm more thoroughly; Ronon and Rodney headed to the trail toward the mine and the wooded area beyond. Elizabeth and Evan started toward town and would then curve their way back toward Ronon and Rodney, and the four of them would go back to the farm if they had had no luck. John and Teyla would continue to her village, hopefully either with Jinto and Wex in tow or to find them safely returned by another search party.
"Do you think the snow will hold off?" John asked, adjusting his rifle strap more comfortably around his shoulder.
"I'm afraid it won't," she replied, scanning the ground. "If we have any hope of finding their trail, it needs to be soon."
John concentrated on the task at hand as they split and came together again, weaving through the trees and clearings, startling rabbits and birds from their hiding places. John was starting to feel the cold and envied Teyla her warmer clothing. To take his mind from it, he asked about Jinto instead. "How did his mother die?"
"It was a fever," Teyla answered. "An epidemic. Not just our people, but in town as well. It claimed the lives of many."
"I'm sorry," John said. "What about Halling? He obviously wasn't born in the village."
"No," Teyla smiled. "He came to us when I was about Jinto's age. He told us the stories of his people and helped us in our trades with the townsfolk. Then he fell in love with Jinara, and he's been with us ever since."
John let that information sink in, and then asked in amazement, "He was a missionary?"
"He always said that he should not be limited by his beliefs, but rather grow wiser by adding to them," Teyla said fondly. "He used to quote from a book he always carried. His favorite was something like, 'There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"
"That's Shakespeare," John said with a laugh.
They both jumped when Rodney's voice sounded from the pocket of John's jacket. "Did -ou find Them yet? We -ven't had an- luck here."
John pulled out the device and said at it, "No, Rodney. No luck." He hoped Rodney was keeping in touch with Evan as well. He and Elizabeth should be about the same distance away on the far side of Ronon and Rodney, which made their search parameter stretch almost three miles. They continued in silence, their momentary humor gone.
"We should be meeting up with one of the search parties from my village soon," Teyla said after a while. John nodded. They had probably traveled about half the distance from the farm, though their meandering path had made the journey take considerably longer than the last time John had walked it. The first snowflakes started to fall, and John realized he had missed supper and was getting hungry.
"John..." Teyla broke the silence again. "I had dreams that something terrible would happen this winter."
John swung his head around to look at her. "Nightmares?" he asked, feeling the hairs on his neck prickle.
She shook her head. "More than that. My dreams often tell me of events that are to come." She paused and listened for a moment, but it was nothing more than a rabbit that took off from the undergrowth in a spray of snow. "Last winter I dreamed that I was in the caves at the spring equinox and a great flood filled the tunnels, carrying me along. When the water burst from the cave mouth, it soaked into the soil and flowers began to bloom all around me."
"Huh. We got here right about at the spring equinox." John stopped in his tracks. "You mean--?"
"That is why I was there that day when I found you, yes." Teyla regarded him solemnly. "But I did not see Jinto in these new dreams, John. I saw you, and Rodney, and Ronon."
John gave over to a full-body shiver. "That's...kind of creepy," he admitted. "I'm sure everything will be all--" The sound of a rifle shot rang out. John met Teyla's eyes and with silent agreement they both broke into a run.
They found the wounded deer first. It was a large doe that had been shot through the flank, and John used his rifle to cleanly finish the job. They waited next to the carcass, and by the time snow had started to cover it they heard the unmistakable sound of Jinto's voice. "It doesn't matter if someone else shot it, too, Wex. It's still your deer."
"But we're going to be in trouble," Wex answered, sounding scared.
"You know we're already in trouble," Jinto answered. "If we run off now we'll still have to go home and face it. We might as well face it now and get your deer." The boys entered the little clearing and Jinto's face lit up. "John Sheppard! I'm glad it's you." He gave Teyla a little wave as Wex tried to hide behind him. "Hello, Teyla. Um. How angry is my father?"
"Very," Teyla answered with a relieved grin, pulling the boys in for a hug. "I am glad I do not have to decide what to do with you."
John clapped Wex on the shoulder and said, "Your first deer, huh? Aim closer to the front shoulder next time."
Wex nodded, wide-eyed. John tried not to laugh. Now that they knew the boys were safe, he tried to imagine the adventure from their perspective rather than that of a worried adult's. There had been a few occasions when he and his brother had sneaked off and left their parents in a panic. He probably hadn't been much older than Wex at the time. Despite knowing that they were in for a tanning, it had always seemed like a terrific idea.
John hefted the deer and they headed toward the village, wondering how the boys had planned on getting their prize home by themselves. Within a mile they were hailed by Balera and Kanaan, who were just as happy to see the boys as John and Teyla had been. Balera teased her cousin with descriptions of Halling's fury, making Jinto swallow nervously before Teyla reminded him that his father would also be relieved that he was safe.
With the snow falling more heavily now and with extra hands to carry Wex's deer, John told them he would head back to the farm. Teyla glanced at the sky and frowned worriedly. "I will walk back with you," she said. Turning to Kanaan she added, "Tell everyone that I will return when I can." They waved their farewells and parted.
"I wouldn't have gotten lost," John said after a moment. "Probably. Much." He glanced at Teyla out of the corner of his eyes and saw her lips twitch in a smile. It would be nice to have her at the farm for a visit. Maybe he could talk her into staying for a few days and livening up the house for a while. He pulled his coat tighter and wondered if the others had headed back yet. "Is there a good route that would take us a little north so that we could meet up with Rodney and Ronon?" he asked.
Teyla considered the question and said, "Yes. If we follow the rise up ahead it will join with the ridge close to where they should be."
When he thought they were close enough, John took out Rodney's communication device and spoke into it. "Rodney? Can you hear me? We found Jinto and Wex and we're heading to the ridge above the mine. Look for us there if you aren't already home."
After a moment of silence, Elizabeth's voice came through, sounding scratchy and small. "John? --ank God. -van's been shot and Rodn- -as t-ken by a man on --seback. Ronon went aft-- -im but with all th- snow--"
John felt like he'd been dunked in an icy river. "Where are you?" he asked, his mind racing.
"We-- in the --ine."
"Stay there." John tried to push away the images his brain was supplying as he and Teyla raced toward the mine. Evan shot and Rodney kidnapped. It didn't make sense. He let Teyla take the lead, knowing she'd take them unerringly to their friends. He stumbled over a buried rock and rolled in the snow, gritting his teeth as Teyla pulled him to his feet. They hit the top edge of the bluff and barreled over, sliding down through the powder and hitting the ground within sight of the mine.
Elizabeth knelt over Evan just inside the tunnel entrance. Evan leaned against the rock, looking pale but mostly alert. His upper thigh was bandaged with what looked like remnants of Elizabeth's petticoat. John leaned against the rock wall, gulping deep breaths. "What the hell happened?" he asked as Teyla crowded in behind him.
"Evan and I had just met up with Rodney and Ronon with no sign of the missing boys," Elizabeth answered. We were headed back to the farm when we heard a shot and Evan fell." She took a deep breath, standing to face John before continuing. "A man on horseback jumped onto the trail out of nowhere, whacked Ronon on the back of the head with his rifle, and grabbed Rodney."
"Couldn't hear him in the snow," Evan added. "Guess he saw my rifle and took his one shot at me instead of Ronon."
Elizabeth gave an angry toss of her head. "It happened so fast...He took off again before any of us knew what was happening. I bandaged Evan's leg, and when Ronon woke up he took off after Rodney while Evan and I made our way back to the farm. We got this far and had to stop to rest."
"Why, though?" Teyla asked. "What could he possibly hope to gain?"
"Remember the man who was here in the spring--the one Teyla scared off?" Evan asked. John nodded. "I'm pretty sure it was him." Evan tried to move his leg and winced. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have let him ambush us like that."
John crouched at Evan's side and put his arm around his torso. Teyla did the same on the other side and together they helped him to stand. "None of that," John said. "It's not your fault. We'll find Rodney."
They braced themselves for the cold and headed out into the snow again. John marveled that Evan and Elizabeth had managed to get all the way to the cave. He did not want to think about how long they might have been there if he and Teyla had returned to the farm and simply waited for everyone to get back before realizing there had been trouble. It was a damn good thing they'd had Rodney's devices with them. "Hey, did you try--"
"Yes," Elizabeth answered, "He must be too far away already."
John cursed under his breath and tried to move faster. Evan clenched his teeth but nodded to continue. The farm came into view and they stumbled inside gratefully. Teyla held Evan upright long enough for John and Elizabeth to drag her bed close to the fireplace, and then he settled into the mattress with a sigh.
Lighting a fire only took a moment, but then John stepped away and fidgeted near the door. He needed to get the doctor from town, but with the snow they wouldn't be back until morning at best. He'd seen plenty of bullet wounds before, and if treated in time didn't have to be serious.
But there was Rodney to think of, too. Ronon had speed and stamina, but he couldn't keep up with a man on horseback. By morning Rodney would be out of reach.
John ran a frustrated hand through his wet hair, watching as Evan clutched the blankets in his fist. Elizabeth lifted his head and put a cup to his lips, and he mumbled something quietly before sinking back onto the pillow. Then Elizabeth looked at John and held his eyes in a steady gaze. "I've had some medical training, John--I know what to do. Evan will be fine. Go find Rodney."
John had his hand on the door before he realized Teyla wasn't with him. He caught sight of her at the back of the house in Rodney's room, and he mentally slapped himself as he hurried over, wishing he'd thought to check the larger instrument. "Can you hear--"
"Shh." Teyla was bent close, and when John leaned in, he could hear Rodney's voice, quiet but almost clear.
"I've adjusted the cylinder again. I really, really hope you've heard me one of these times, and that everyone is all right. It's a good thing this man thinks I'm just gibbering to myself in terror. Okay, so we're...well, I have no idea where we are, but we crossed the creek first, pretty far north of the farm, I think and we've been going downhill so I suppose we're headed west. It's that stupid...stupid prairie pirate again and I don't know why he's kidnapped me, it's not like I'm important to anyone; I haven't even published any scientific papers yet. Except that one, but people mostly made fun of it even though I know I'm right. Um. So. West. Maybe southwest? And prairie pirate." That seemed like the end of the message, but then Rodney added, "Oh, and also I'm really really hungry. That's all. I'm going to adjust the cylinder again."
They waited a moment, but there was nothing but silence. "Good enough," John said, heading for the door. Then he stopped, grabbed a tag end of bread and some late apples from the table and stuffed them into a bag. He took some venison jerky from its drying rack and shoved a piece into his mouth, threw a piece to Teyla, and put the rest into the bag as well. Then they headed out.
Rodney's fingers were getting too cold to turn the little handle anymore, and he finally gave up. Either someone had heard him by now or they never would. He must be out of range, anyway. Wriggling against the ropes that bound him, he tried to reach his coat pocket but couldn't quite. The little box fell out of his hands and into the snow. Rodney sagged against the saddle. If his friends somehow managed to get close enough, he could have talked to them, but surely his last hope of rescue was now gone. Then he wondered what else he might drop. It would at least take his mind off of how uncomfortable it was to be slung sideways across the back of a saddle. He wriggled again, and the man in front of him said, "Please do not make yourself any more of a nuisance than you already have, Doctor McKay."
Rodney's mouth dropped open in surprise. "How do you know who I am?" he demanded. "And while I'm at it, what are you going to do with me?"
The man chuckled. "After the unfortunate incident at your farm last spring, I took it upon myself to do a little research. It seems as though you have considerable holdings and investments in town. I'm sure your--" he sneered, "business partner would be more than willing to sign them over in exchange for your safe return."
"Considerable holdings?" Rodney asked, confounded. "Business partner? You mean Elizabeth? She's not my business partner." Rodney snapped his mouth shut, feeling lost.
"Of course not." The man's oily voice grated on Rodney's nerves.
Rodney blinked, then caught on to the man's tone. "She's not that, either." he said angrily.
"So you hired her in Boston simply to take care of your domestic affairs. Such as they are." The man pulled back on the reins and the horse shook its head, dispelling the clumps of snow that had accumulated. Rodney wished he could do the same thing; his back and legs were covered, and slow was sliding down his collar every time he was jostled.
"Who are you, anyway?" Rodney asked, clenching his fingers and trying to return some warmth to them.
The man half turned in the saddle and looked down at Rodney with eyes that made the snow seem warm. "My name is Acastus Kolya." Rodney shivered.
A short while later they stopped and Kolya dismounted. He untied Rodney's feet and pulled him to the ground. Rodney's legs buckled from cold and disuse, and he fell into the snow, unable to catch himself with his hands still bound. Kolya pulled him roughly to his feet and led him to a shack that was built against the side of a hill.
"Is this your hideout?" Rodney asked with derision. The planks were full of gaping holes and the windows had not been boarded for winter. But it had a chimney and that meant fire, and right now Rodney would take what shelter he could get.
He sank down next to the fireplace and waited miserably while Kolya laid the fire. There didn't seem to be any indication that he was going to be fed, and as soon as he started to warm up, Rodney tucked his bound hands under his head and curled up on the floor. Kolya sat on a stool on the opposite side of the fire, staring into the flames. "How do you expect to get my money out here?" Rodney asked.
"I don't," Kolya answered. "I'll go back to your farm in a few days and tell Elizabeth what she needs to do."
"Oh, like you won't get shot the second you step foot on the farm," Rodney muttered.
"I would hope that she's intelligent enough to know that if she did so, she'd be resigning you to a very cold and lonely death." Kolya reached into a bag on the floor and produced slices of bread and ham.
"Can I get some of that?" Rodney asked hopefully.
"No." Kolya smiled, obviously enjoying his discomfort.
Rodney turned so that his other side was exposed to the fire. "Three days is a long time to wait. My friends will find me before then."
"Who? The one I shot, or the one I hit over the head? I don't think either of them are going to be of much use to you anymore." He chewed his meal with relish, and Rodney closed his eyes, no longer hungry.
The mad few seconds when he'd been taken were a blur in Rodney's memory. He had been at the front of the group, anxious for home and dinner. First he had heard a shot, and Elizabeth had called out Evan's name. Then Ronon was running toward him, but he hadn't seen much of anything other than the horse that had nearly trampled him before he'd been wrenched onto its back and taken away. Kolya had stopped later to fasten Rodney to the saddle with rope and Rodney had sneaked the device out of his pocket, beginning to make his desperate pleas for rescue.
Rodney curled himself tighter. Pleas for rescue they'd probably not heard. He hadn't known that Evan had been shot, or that Ronon was injured. He willed his strength to Elizabeth that she could somehow keep them safe, and fervently hoped that John and Teyla didn't decide to stay overnight in the village. Rodney felt an ache of despair well up beneath his breastbone when he pictured John arriving at the farm the next day only to find it deserted. He rubbed a thumb against the beads of the bracelet he still wore, thinking of the harvest festival and how happy they'd all been. The wind howled through the gaps in the walls, making the fire throw sparks. Darkness fell.
Teyla and John rode as quickly as they dared through the driving snow and biting wind. The extra mount fought the pace and John tugged the lead, slowing his horse and allowing Teyla's to get in front. She scanned for tracks, but the heavy snow lay in an even blanket across the ground. She was weary to the bone; she'd been moving at a frantic pace since she rolled out of bed that morning to discover that Jinto and Wex had gone.
They crossed the creek and continued west, unsure of where--or whether--to turn south. At least the wide river offered one boundary, uncrossable until the height of winter froze its surface solid. Teyla's instincts told her to continue west, and so she led them onward, down into the long shallow valley of the river.
They were exchanging one difficulty for another; as the snow began to slacken, the sky grew darker. Soon there would be no hope of finding a trail. Teyla kept her eyes on the ground in front of her horse, squinting in the fading light. Even so, she almost missed it. She slipped from the saddle and crouched, blowing gently to dispel the most recent flakes. It was a footprint--a large, single bootprint, and certainly there was no reason for anyone other than Ronon to be out in this weather alone. It gave her a spark of hope, and she kindled it, trying to find warmth.
Teyla signaled John as she pulled herself back onto Evan's horse, pointing at the sunken imprints that led into the trees. He grinned broadly, cheeks red with the cold, and brought his horse even with hers. They clasped hands briefly, leaving bright fingerprints on each other's chilled skin.
They slowed their pace, fearful of losing the trail now that they'd found it. John tried speaking into the little wooden box he still carried, but there was no answer from Rodney. When they steered around a little sinkhole in the limestone rock, Ronon startled them by stepping out from the hollow in a split tree almost directly in front of them. "What took you so long?" He asked.
Teyla had thought that John looked cold, but Ronon looked miserable. His teeth chattered and he had his hands tucked into his armpits. He hunched in his woolen coat, looking smaller than she'd ever seen him.
"Are we ever glad to see you," John said, handing him the reins to the extra horse. "You all right?"
Ronon nodded and climbed into the saddle. "I'm Fine." He turned the mount and said, "I followed the trail until the snow finally covered it up. But they were headed in this direction."
They followed Ronon's lead now, and Teyla fell in between the two men. She rubbed aching fingers against her tired eyes. All she wanted was to curl up with her friends under warm blankets in front of a fire and know they were safe.
John handed Ronon a piece of the dried venison and he chewed it hungrily. Swallowing the first mouthful he asked, "Evan?"
"He's gonna be okay," John answered. "Elizabeth's taking care of him." Ronon nodded, and they continued in silence.
"Try Rodney's device again," Teyla suggested when they paused to rest the horses.
"Rodney, can you hear me?" John said into it. They waited, their horses breathing heavily, and John tried again. John shook his head, but Teyla moved her horse forward carefully.
"Say something again." She thought she'd heard an odd echo of John's voice. Perhaps Rodney had gotten away and was nearby but unable to answer. John kept speaking as Teyla dismounted and walked in a slow circle. Then she strode forward and began to dig in the snow. In a moment she'd uncovered another of the little boxes. She held it up, uncertain if it meant something good or ill.
"He's close," John said grimly. "They couldn't have made it much farther than this before it got dark."
Teyla held on to that hope as they moved on again. At the very least they knew that Rodney had been here. She focused her anger until it was a sharp point, bright and hot in her chest. She would not deal kindly with the man who had hurt her friends.
Ronon brought his horse to a halt and lifted his head. "I smell smoke." Teyla breathed deeply and caught the faint but unmistakable odor of a fire. By unspoken agreement they dismounted and tied their horses to a nearby tree, tucked in a hollow that would offer them protection from the cold. Though it was now completely dark, the sky had begun to clear. They made their way as silent as hunting foxes through the trees, senses alert.
Teyla knew immediately that shack they came across was their destination. A single horse was tied outside, head held wearily low. She could see a line of rope across the back of the saddle where Rodney must have been tied. Her lips drew back in a scowl as she imagined how frightful the journey must have been for her friend.
"How should we do this?" John whispered.
"Bust in through the front door?" Ronon suggested, pulling a knife from its sheath.
"We'd get shot," John replied. "Rodney might get shot. Let's do this without any of us getting shot." John chewed on his lip. "We need to draw him outside."
"Perhaps if we frighten his horse?" Teyla suggested. "He can't suspect that we've found him already. But if his horse makes enough noise he'll surely come out to investigate."
John nodded and elbowed Ronon. "See? That's a plan."
They worked out the details and moved into position. Teyla worked her way around the slope of the little hill, giving John and Ronon enough time to find hiding places within sight of the door. She approached the horse from behind, keeping as quiet as possible until she, too, had a clear shot. Then she rattled the branches of the nearest shrub, sending a spray of snow in the horse's direction. Its head rose in alarm and it whickered loudly. Teyla repeated the motion and the horse jerked at its lead, breaking free of the loose knot and taking a few frightened steps through the snow.
The door of the shack slammed open and the bandit took a cautious half step out of the doorway. He clutched a rifle in his hands and had a pistol in a holster at his belt. Teyla loosened her own pistol, fingers itching to aim and fire. But they needed to wait until he was clear of the door and was no longer a threat to Rodney inside.
She waited, holding her breath, and willed the horse to move again. It gave a small shake of its head, just enough for the man to see that it had broken loose from its ties. He swore and moved forward. Within three steps a knife buried itself in his shoulder and he dropped the rifle with a yell. Teyla rose and loosed a bullet. An echo to her left told her John had done the same. The man fell and was still.
They all three reached the door at once, and the men paused just long enough for Teyla to slip inside first. Rodney was blinking awake next to the fire, looking confused and shaken but unhurt. Teyla helped him sit and Ronon produced a smaller knife to cut the bonds at his wrists. John knelt to the other side, and then they were all arms and elbows tangling and reaching around each other.
Teyla leaned back and blinked her eyes clear as John produced the little bag of food and set it in Rodney's lap. He dug inside and pulled out and apple, taking a huge bite. "I can't believe you found me," he said around the mouthful. "How did you know where to look? And you brought food. I was starving."
"Yeah, we heard you," John said.
"You did?" Rodney stared at him.
Teyla squeezed his shoulder, reassuring herself again of Rodney's presence. "Yes. When we returned to the house, we heard your voice through the device in your room."
Rodney poked a finger into Ronon's arm and took another bite of apple. "I thought you were dead, you know. Kolya told me he killed you." His eyes widened and he swallowed quickly, looking at John. "Is Evan--?"
"He'll be fine," John reassured him. He looked out the open door at the figure on the ground. Wind was starting to cover it with drifts of snow. "Kolya, huh?"
"He wanted to ransom me," Rodney said with a grimace. Then his face brightened. "Apparently Elizabeth has amassed a small fortune in my name."
John's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. "Oh, really? And what are you going to do with your fortune?"
Rodney flapped his hand. "Oh...you know. Buy more seed. Add another room to the house." He smiled, eyes glinting. "And I think it's about time we had our own animals at the farm, don't you?"
Teyla laughed, and the end of it turned into a wide yawn. Warm blankets or no, she thought she could close her eyes right now and sleep. But Rodney looked around the small room and shivered. "Do you think we could go home now?"
John looked at Ronon, then Teyla. They nodded, and Ronon said, "There's an extra horse outside for Rodney to ride."
With a sigh, John stood. "All right. It's dark, but at least it's stopped snowing. Teyla? Do you think you can find the way home?"
Her muscles protested when she stood as well, and she and Ronon each took one of Rodney's hands and helped him to his feet. There were warm blankets at the farm, and enough space for them all underneath if they pushed the two beds together in the little room at the side of the house. She nodded. She could always find her way home.
