A Scotsman's Promise

Chapter 14

By the time they were ready to leave the next morning, Calen was anxious to get going. He was not able to aid in packing up the camp, being more of a nuisance than a help with his arm strapped in a sling to his chest. His immobility agitated him, as he was not used to being dependant on anyone. After an unsuccessful attempt to tie his own bedroll up, Will kindly but firmly took over the full responsibility of breaking camp.

Calen resisted the urge to supervise, knowing that Will could handle the tasks both of them had done hundreds of times before. Within the half hour they were packed up and on the water.

It was almost physically painful for Calen to sit back and let Will do all the work. Calen took great pride in his ability to handle a canoe with such deft precision, and it grated on him to have to be towed along like an old man or a cripple. He did not know how long he would be able to stand it.

By evening, they had only covered half of the distance they normally would have. Will was bone tired and dropped onto his bedroll as soon as it was spread, not even bothering with an evening meal. His soft snores soon filled the campsite.

Micara slept in the open again, Will being too tired and Calen being physically unable to set her tent. She obediently took the hardtack biscuit that Calen had offered, lest she contribute to his already grouchy state. 

Calen was grouchy indeed. After a day of being treated as an invalid, they had barely managed to travel the distance he had calculated the night before. They were two days behind schedule, and with their slowed pace, it would put them further behind. With luck, they would reach the Trois-Riviéres settlement sometime late tomorrow evening, with luck, and a lot of hard paddling on William's part.

The next day started of better, Calen was able to contribute to the camp by brewing a pot of coffee any man, one-armed or two, could be proud of. Will still had to pack camp alone, but it did ease Calen's pride to be able to do at least a small part.

They settled into the canoes again. Will had informed Calen that they would not be able to go as far as they had the day before for his arms and shoulders were still tired from doing double the amount of paddling they than they had before. Calen was determined that this would not be the case, even if he had to paddle one handed.

Micara watched him warily as he reached for the paddle. It was as familiar to him as one of his own limbs, yet trying to manage it in a one-handed grip felt awkward and strange. After some trial and error and several failing attempts to find a grip that worked, he did find one that was semi-usable. His hand was wrapped around the oar at the beaver-tail-shaped end of the paddle with the rest of the neck and top handle anchored under the inside of his forearm. He used it like and extension of his hand, dipping the end into the water and pulling it behind him, as if using his hand for the paddle blade. The method seemed to work well, and since he was only using his right arm, it was not taxing on his injured shoulder. The problem came when he tried to switch sides in order to keep the canoe on course. With his arm strapped to his chest, it made it impossible to get into the right position to paddle.

Calen threw down the oar angrily. What ever help he could contribute paddling on the one side, would be subtracted when the canoe drifted off course. It was still connected to the other canoe and Will would have to correct it for Calen cold not. He sat back, once again being towed along helplessly.

Micara picked up the paddle. It was about three feet long and made out of one piece of solid oak. It was perfectly smooth, with visible wear on both spots where Calen's hands would grip it when he handled it.

She looked at Calen, who was brooding angrily at the stern of the canoe. "Can I not try?" she asked.

He directed a glare at her, "No ye cannot."