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Angie Pratt
Becka Charlie lives in the old trapper’s cabin where Frank and Eldon take shelter on the second night of their journey. She is a sturdy woman with Native facial features, though she’s fair-skinned and blue-eyed: she has Chilcotin and Scottish heritage and was raised knowing both of her parents’ ancestral ways. She moved into the cabin to care for her father, who died from the effects of alcoholism. Frank appreciates Becka’s straight-talking attitude, though Eldon gets defensive when she criticizes his drinking. Becka perceives that there’s courage and generosity in Eldon’s determination to tell Frank his stories. She tells Frank that our stories are all we are, and she sends the men on their way with some supplies, including herbal medicine that soothes Eldon in his final days.
Becka Charlie Quotes in Medicine Walk
The Medicine Walk quotes below are all either spoken by Becka Charlie or refer to Becka Charlie. For each quote, you can also see the other characters and themes related to it (each theme is indicated by its own dot and icon, like this one:
).
Chapter 12
Quotes
"'What he done was brave. You know that, huh?"
"Done what?"
"Tellin' you. That took some grit."
"I don't think it'd take much grit to tell what ya already know."
"Maybe. But it sat in his gut a long time. Most'll just give stuff like that over to time. Figure enough of it passes things'll change. Try to forget it. Like forgettin's a cure unto itself. It ain't. You never forget stuff that cuts that deep."
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His father moaned and the kid regarded him. "He don't seem much of a warrior to me." He sipped at the tea.
"Who's to say how much of anythin' we are?" Becka said. "Seems to me the truth of us is where it can't be seen. Comes to dyin', I guess we all got a right to what we believe."
"I can't know what he believes. He talks a lot, but I still got no sense of him. So far it's all been stories."
She only nodded. "It's all we are in the end. Our stories." She stood and put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a pat.
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Chapter 13
Quotes
He thought about what Becka had said and worked at finding some pattern to the shards and pieces of history he'd been allowed to carry now. They jangled and knocked around inside him. It felt like jamming the wrong piece into a picture puzzle. Like frustration alone could make it fit the pattern. He cast a look back over his shoulder at his father, who seemed to be asleep, but he'd mumble when the horse's step over a rock or a root made him lurch in the saddle. When the kid looked back at the thin trail they followed he felt worn and makeshift as the trail itself.
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Becka Charlie Quotes in Medicine Walk
The Medicine Walk quotes below are all either spoken by Becka Charlie or refer to Becka Charlie. For each quote, you can also see the other characters and themes related to it (each theme is indicated by its own dot and icon, like this one:
).
Chapter 12
Quotes
"'What he done was brave. You know that, huh?"
"Done what?"
"Tellin' you. That took some grit."
"I don't think it'd take much grit to tell what ya already know."
"Maybe. But it sat in his gut a long time. Most'll just give stuff like that over to time. Figure enough of it passes things'll change. Try to forget it. Like forgettin's a cure unto itself. It ain't. You never forget stuff that cuts that deep."
Related Characters:
Related Themes:
Page Number and Citation:
Explanation and Analysis:
His father moaned and the kid regarded him. "He don't seem much of a warrior to me." He sipped at the tea.
"Who's to say how much of anythin' we are?" Becka said. "Seems to me the truth of us is where it can't be seen. Comes to dyin', I guess we all got a right to what we believe."
"I can't know what he believes. He talks a lot, but I still got no sense of him. So far it's all been stories."
She only nodded. "It's all we are in the end. Our stories." She stood and put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a pat.
Related Characters:
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Page Number and Citation:
Explanation and Analysis:
Chapter 13
Quotes
He thought about what Becka had said and worked at finding some pattern to the shards and pieces of history he'd been allowed to carry now. They jangled and knocked around inside him. It felt like jamming the wrong piece into a picture puzzle. Like frustration alone could make it fit the pattern. He cast a look back over his shoulder at his father, who seemed to be asleep, but he'd mumble when the horse's step over a rock or a root made him lurch in the saddle. When the kid looked back at the thin trail they followed he felt worn and makeshift as the trail itself.
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