People of the Flood (Ark Chronicles 2) by Vaughn Heppner

Ham had heard about it, especially from written messages from Japheth. They seldom talked, ever since the falling out at Kush’s wedding. Ham shook his head. The trouble was his boys needed wives, and so did Japheth’s, and there were only so many girls to go around. So, for the sake of their clans, they were forced to act civilly.
    Ham elbowed his son in the side.
    “What was that for?” Canaan asked.
    “ You’re being more careful these days, I hope.”
    Canaan was sharp . “You mean with grandfather?”
    “ And with your cousins,” Ham said.
    Canaan laughed . “Yes, Father. I won’t get caught again.”
    “ Well…. One of these days, you have to marry one of them.”
    “ Just one?”
    Ham chuckled . “Don’t let your aunts or uncles hear you talk like that. Lamech of Cain’s line was the first to have more than one wife, and he was evil.”
    “ Why would that be bad?”
    “ Having more than one wife?” Ham asked.
    “ Right.”
    Ham eyed his son . “I don’t think Jehovah likes a man having more than one wife.”
    “ Why not?”
    “ Ask your Uncle Shem. He knows Jehovah’s thoughts better than I know Jehovah’s thoughts.”
    “ Shem’s a bore.”
    Ham sighed . “He’s your Uncle Shem.”
    “ Sure. Good old Uncle Shem.”
    They reached the river that Ham thought of as the boundary to his land, a fast-flowing stream fed from the glaciers in Ararat . The river foamed over rocks and had steep sides, winding through the forest.
    Forty years ago , the eight of them had exited the Ark. At seventy-eight, Ham had a salt and pepper beard and was still as strong as an ox. He had lived in the New World longer than in the Antediluvian Era. Some of his sons and daughters had married, with children of their own getting married. Time fled faster here, maybe because there was so much to do. For instance, no one couldn’t barter or buy ore. People had to dig it out of the ground, smelt it and, with a forge, fashion a tool. Or, to make fur garments for his wife… First, he had to trap the animal. A leg-hold trap worked best, stout wooden jaws driven shut by a copper spring held the animal in a trap line. Then he slew and skinned it. Coyotes, ermines, foxes and other small animals were cased . He cut a line across the rump from leg to leg and peeled off the pelt from the inside out. For bears, badgers and other beasts, he used the open method: slit a line up the animal’s belly and peel off the pelt from side to side. Then he tied the pelts to a wooden frame, scraped off all the fat and tissue, and dried them. Dressing was next, applying grease and pounding it with a wooden mallet. Finally, he mixed in sawdust, cleaned and dried the pelt. Only then did he give the furs to Rahab, for her to make blankets or garments or other various articles.
    “ This way,” Canaan said, pointing to a wolf run parallel with the stream.
    “ When have you ever been here before?”
    “ Ah…”
    “ Don’t lie to me, boy.”
    “ Of course not,” Canaan said. “This is my first time this far out. I’m not foolish enough to run around in the wilds on my own.”
    Ham squinted at Canaan, a smooth liar, unfortunately . Should he have taken a belt to him more often, the way Noah had to him? Canaan reminded him of himself, although his boy wasn’t as broad-shouldered or as dark. Still, he could envision Naamah being intrigued with Canaan.
    “ You shouldn’t go this far from camp on your own,” Ham said.
    “ I know. Don’t worry.”
    “ I’m serious.”
    Canaan flashed his grin.
    “All right,” Ham said, propelling his eager offspring. “Show me.”
    Ham limped as his fleet-footed boy dashed over the wolf run without a thought of slipping into the raging waters below.
    “Hey!”
    Canaan halted, looking back.
    “What would you do if a wolf showed up?”
    “ Whistle for the hounds.”
    “ What if they didn’t come fast enough? Or what if the river-noise drowned out your whistle?”
    Canaan patted the net slung over