by Becky Lower
In response, Hannah stood and walked into the lean-to, emerging with a small knife. She sat beside Lone Wolf and handed it to him. Without comment, he cut himself, and then took her tiny wrist in his hand and made a cut. As their blood mingled, he chanted.
He wiped both wounds with a handful of grass as the bleeding slowed.
“Now we are one, Maiingan.”
He shifted back a pace, still sitting on the ground, and asked the question that had been uppermost in his mind since Hannah revealed the contents of the letter.
“What will your mother do now? Can the man in the wagon be counted on to help?"
"You mean Sully? No, that was part of why Mama was so upset yesterday. The pass up these hills gets closed off in early winter, and no one can get in or out. When Daddy's here, it's nice, since he doesn't have as much to do. We play games, go for long hikes, tell stories. But now, Mama doesn't have any way to get food for us, other than what comes out of the garden."
Hannah stood, finally, and made her way toward the cow. "I'd better get to work." She touched her wrist and the small cut. “Thank you for making me your blood daughter.”
Lone Wolf sat and thought while Hannah rounded up the cow and began to lead her to the fence gate. The gnawing pit in his stomach had begun the minute Hannah began to cry. It grew larger as they talked, and now it was a grand chasm. His troubling visions of a light-haired woman now came into focus. He was meant to be here, not just for the summer, but now to help this family get through the long, cold winter without the man of the house. But if he were to stay for months more, he needed to find shelter for both himself and his horse. He took a deep breath. His course had been set with his grandfather’s first vision and his own vision quest. He was meant to come here since before he left the Ojibwa camp. He was destined to help this family get by. He stood as Hannah returned to his side.
"Thank you for chopping the wood up today. You must have worked hard to have gotten that much done."
"Did your mother notice?"
"No, she was too upset and ran inside the minute we got home. I didn't even see it until just before I came up here."
He reached down and took her hand. She gazed up into his eyes.
"Do you want some milk today?"
"No, what I want is for you to introduce me to your mother. It is time we met."
♥•♥•♥
Hannah picked up some wood as she and Lone Wolf made their way down the path toward the log home, the cow moseying along between them. It was the first time Lone Wolf had taken the path to get down the hill and he admired the work of whoever had created it. Large stepping stones had been anchored into the hill, making the way easier to maneuver, for both man and beast.
His mind raced, and his skin began to prickle as they neared the house. The fair-haired woman had already spotted him as they came down the path. She tore out of the house, skirts flying, with the big rifle on her shoulder pointed directly at him.
"Stop right there and unhand my daughter!"
Lone Wolf stopped, as directed, and raised one hand over his head. Hannah dropped her armload of wood, ran to her mother's side, and tugged on the gun to lower it.
"Mama, it's all right. This is Lone Wolf, and he's my friend."
Lone Wolf and the light-haired woman stared at each other over the head of the little girl. Hannah took hold of the cow’s halter, pulling the animal out of the path. When she turned back toward her mother, she placed herself in front of Lone Wolf. Protecting him, when he was supposed to be protecting her. His heart cracked opened a bit more. Hannah was not only strong, but brave. And he'd do anything he could to keep her alive until her father returned. And the other children, who were grouped alongside their mother.
"Good morning, ma'am. I am also called Raoul."
"But you're an Indian, aren't you?"
"Half. The other half is French-Canadian."
Hannah grabbed one of his hands. "He's been camping in the woods for months now, Mama. His horse is up in the pasture with Bossy. He's had plenty of chances to hurt us, hurt me, if he wanted to. Instead, he's the one who's been adding to the woodpile. Look at what he did today while we were gone."
The woman's gaze flickered momentarily to the woodpile, which was greatly improved from his work. Her eyes widened. Blue eyes, similar to her daughter's. And as clear as a mountain lake.
"What do you want? Why have you shown yourself today?"
Lone Wolf, or Raoul, as he now figured he needed to be addressed, pondered his answer. If he told her he wanted to care for her family while her husband was away, she'd turn him away. If he told her she had appeared to him in a vision, she’d use the shotgun. Just as Hannah was strong and brave, he sensed the same of her mother. Perhaps with an additional dose of stubbornness. He needed to use a different tactic with her.
"What I want is shelter for myself and my horse for the winter. I want to stay in your barn, if I could. I will repay your kindness with work."
"What kind of work would you do, other than keep the wood pile full?"
"I could clean and repair the tack in the barn."
Her eyes widened even more. "You've been in our barn?"
"Yes, while you were gone. Your tack needs attention."
Raoul noticed her gulp, and she placed her hand on her stomach. Desperation showed on her face, but she tried to hide it.
"I can also hunt game. I have been using my bow and arrow all summer to catch my dinner. There are a lot of deer in these woods, but I have not brought one down, since I am but one man and could not make use of an entire deer."
"But we could. There are five of us."
"I may not have all your names yet, but I am aware of how many children you have. How many mouths you have to feed. I can help you get through the winter."
She finally propped her gun up against the wall of the house and came forward. She massaged Hannah's shoulders as her daughter still stood in front of him. Then, she took a deep breath and extended her hand. He had time to register her scent, which reminded him of a spring meadow, before she spoke.
"The barn is yours for the winter, for you and your horse, in exchange for food for my children. I'm Susannah."
CHAPTER NINE
Susannah attempted to corral her runaway emotions. When she first witnessed Hannah coming down from the pasture followed by a tall, well-muscled and fierce-looking Indian, her heart raced uncontrollably. He was the same man she’d seen in town when William was leaving for military duty. The one who made her skin erupt in goose bumps. She had grabbed the rifle and run from the house into the clearing when she caught sight of him trailing behind Hannah this afternoon, but she was shaking so badly, she doubted she'd be able to hit anything. Still, the rifle did have the proper effect, as the man took a step back from her daughter.
Then, the man offered to put food on her table this winter, in payment for having shelter in the barn. The constant worry of how her children were to have full bellies this winter magically disappeared with his words. He was an Indian, experienced with a bow and arrow. His aim would be true and their bellies would be full this winter. She closed her eyes and offered up a silent prayer before she extended her hand to him. Now, with or without William, and with or without Sully being able to make it through the pass, her children had a chance to make it through till spring. The tension she'd been holding in her body since Sully told her about William's decision suddenly released. All because of an Indian. One in which her daughter had the utmost faith. Hannah didn't give her loyalty lightly, but once she did, she was unwavering. And she trusted this man. Maybe Susannah should, too.
She glanced up at him. His skin was much darker than hers, his hair long, black and straight, his cheekbones finely chiseled. He certainly resembled an Indian, even though he claimed to be only half. His dark brown eyes met hers.
"Since you're going to be feeding these little ragamuffins, you need to meet the rest of the family, Raoul."
She placed her hand on Jacob's shoulder. "T
his is my eldest son, Jacob, who is seven. My other children are Lydia, who is four, and the baby, George, is not quite two."
Jacob stepped forward and solemnly extended his hand to the man, as Susannah had done, but he eyed him with skepticism. Hannah remained by Raoul's side.
"Where do you live?"
"In the cave in the woods north of here. But the bear who used it last winter will want it back again soon and I have no wish to share lodgings with him."
Lydia's eyes widened at the mention of a bear, but she said nothing, preferring to hide in Susannah's skirts. Susannah placed a hand on her daughter's little head of blonde curls and laughed for the first time since her husband had left.
"Raoul didn't mean to frighten you, Lydia. There's no bear in the woods. He was making a joke. Right, Raoul?"
He met her gaze again and with a twinkle in his eyes, glanced at the small girl. "Yes, I was joking, Lydia. I have not seen any signs of bear in your woods since I have been here."
"How long have you been here, anyway?" Susannah wondered.
"Since the beginning of spring. Hannah and I have been friends for some months now."
Susannah glanced at her daughter. "And you never said anything about him? I'm surprised at you, Hannah."
"Why? You would have been concerned about him if you were aware he was in the woods near the house. This way, you didn't need to worry."
Shaking her head, Susannah replied, “When did you become so grown up?”
Susannah shifted her glance to Raoul. "Were you in the woods the day I did laundry and brought the rifle from the house?"
"Yes, it was I who made you uncomfortable. I apologize. But I needed to see with whom I was sharing this mountain."
"Fair enough. So, gather up your belongings from the cave, and get moved into the barn. We'd love to have some fresh meat for dinner. My mouth is already watering."
She picked up George and cradled his head of sandy brown hair. He most closely resembled his father, with his big brown eyes and brown hair. She glanced again at Raoul, whose jet black hair was tied back from his face. Brown eyes, black hair. Nothing even close to her husband in looks. And since Raoul actually seemed to relish the opportunity to take on the obligation of helping her make it through the winter, she beat down the constant twinge of anger she had been feeling toward her husband since his departure. He was fulfilling another kind of obligation, one she could barely comprehend. Raoul could take William’s place at the farm for the winter. And her children would be fed.
It would probably be best, though, if Sully never found out about Raoul. Even though his bed in the barn was yards away from hers, people did have a tendency to talk, to make things up in order to liven up their own existences.
The last thing she wanted was for any of her children to be labeled a half-breed.
♥•♥•♥
Raoul situated his deerskin over a bed of hay in the loft of the barn, and inhaled the sweet scent, along with the pervasive smell of horse manure. He grinned. Asking a seven-year-old boy to shovel manure was not the best of ideas. The boy was barely strong enough to lift the shovel, even when it wasn't loaded with heavy horse and cow dung. Raoul would set this barn to rights tomorrow, and get to work on cleaning and repairing the tack. The barn would be in good shape by tomorrow evening. And Jacob would be free to do what he enjoyed most–work in the garden.
On the way over from the cave, Raoul's arrows were sure and steady, as he brought down two rabbits. Along with the vegetables from the garden, they'd make a nice stew for tonight's dinner. Game was plentiful in these hills, so after cleaning the barn, he'd go hunting. A couple of deer in the smokehouse would ease his mind a bit. But feeding six people daily would mean a lot more hunting in his future.
He finally had an answer to the question that had plagued him since spring. The light-haired woman from his vision had to be Susannah, since her locks were almost silver. When they met face-to-face for the first time, with little Hannah between them, he longed to reach out and touch Susannah's braid, which came to below her waist, to see if her hair was as soft as it appeared. But such a forward move would have had her bring the long rifle back up to eye level and use it, so he resisted the temptation.
Raoul dropped down from the loft to the floor of the barn in a quiet motion and moved into the stall where Ziigwan was being stabled. He ran a hand over the horse's flank and crooned softly, singing an Indian chant the horse was familiar with.
"You brought us to the right place, Ziigwan. You could tell where we were needed, even when I could not. Good job. Now, you have shelter, as do I. We will be able to get through till next spring."
He grabbed a brush and ran it over Ziigwan's coat before he opened the stall to the workhorse. He couldn’t refer to this horse by a name, since he’d never heard it, but he could tell it had been some time since the horse had seen a brush. Raoul spoke softly to him as well, and it calmed the horse, whose skin quivered under the touch of the brush. Raoul's hand followed, soothing the skin and chanting.
Raoul’s hand came to a halt when the barn door opened. He turned to see Jacob standing in the doorway, uncertain of his next move. When he caught sight of Raoul near the workhorse, he came to the side of the stall and glanced in.
“What are you doing to the horse?”
“I was brushing him, after his hard work in the field today. I noticed your mother rubs your shoulders when you finish up, so I am doing the same for the horse. What is he named?”
“He doesn’t have a name. He’s just a horse.”
“Well, Bossy is just a cow, and she has a name. Why not give a good name to this one?”
Jacob reached out and put his hand on the soft nose of the nondescript brown horse. Then, he glanced at Raoul’s horse.
“What is the name for your horse?”
“He is called Ziigwan, which means spring. He was born in the springtime several years ago, and we left the Ojibwa camp in early spring this past year, so I thought it a fitting name.”
Jacob picked up another brush and moved to the opposite side of the horse. He mimicked the movement of Raoul, brushing and then following the stroke up with his hand. They worked quietly side by side for a few minutes.
“We could call him Jasper. Mama used to have a horse with that name.”
Raoul stared over the horse at the little boy. “Jasper is a fine name. We should bring a bucket of water in here and wash him off after we finish brushing him.”
Jacob smiled at Raoul’s statement. “If we do that, this horse will be beside himself. I can’t lift the bucket full of water to clean him, so he hasn’t been washed since Daddy left.”
“The bucket is heavy. I can see where you would have problems with it. But if we work together, we can do it.”
The skepticism with which Raoul was greeted was still evident in Jacob’s eyes, but had lessened a bit. For right now, it was enough.
When both horses were clean and fed, Raoul and Jacob both washed their hands in the trough before Jacob headed into the house. Raoul pinned his long hair back into a queue, tying it with a strip of leather. He crossed from the barn to the house, picking up an armload of firewood before he knocked once and let himself in. The scent of rabbit stew had been in the air outside, and he was hungry. A home-cooked meal that he did not have to make was an idea that set well with him. It was almost as if he were back in the Ojibwa camp. Men caught the meat, but women prepared it.
The warm house smelled of stew and bread. The air in the room might be a bit stifling, but the aromas were delightful. Raoul told himself he was only going to get his dinner and head back to the barn to eat it. It would be very wrong to be under the same roof with a woman to whom he was not married.
"Good evening, Raoul," Susannah smiled at him from her position near the stove. "The stew smells divine, don't you agree?"
"It made my stomach grumble as I crossed from the barn." He returned her smile.
She reached up and wiped the sweat from her brow, causing her
dress to tighten across her breasts. Raoul caught the movement, and caught the swell of her bosom. He averted his head quickly, his breath hitching in his throat. It had been a long time since his wife had died, a long time since he had even given a thought to a woman's breasts. A long time since he had wanted to give a care to anyone other than himself.
He needed to get his meal, and run back to the barn as fast as he could.
"Won't you join us at the table for dinner? The barn is not a fit place to eat a meal."
His head screamed no, but the words out of his mouth told a different story. "Miigwech. Thank you. I would enjoy getting familiar with your children."
He sat at the table, in the chair obviously at one time occupied by the man of the family. Baby George, crawled into his lap as if it were his right. Raoul closed his eyes along with the others as they recited a prayer of thanks before the meal, bending his head over the sweet-smelling toddler. He, too, was thankful. Thankful that his vision had been fulfilled, thankful for the meal he was about to enjoy, thankful that he no longer had to share his quarters with a bear. But his twisted gut told him fate had not finished with him yet.
CHAPTER TEN
The hot, humid days of August were similar to a warm blanket, encasing Raoul in a cocoon of comfort. He wore his long black hair in braids on either side of his head, and fashioned a band around his forehead to soak up the beads of sweat as he worked from sunup to sundown, getting the farm in shape. He slept in the hayloft of a clean barn, now filled with the scents of leather, hay and animals instead of manure. Despite his misgivings, he continued to eat his meals with the family. He told himself it was because meal-time was the only time Hannah and Jacob slowed down enough to talk to him and he enjoyed their company.
The baby, George, was able to string a few words together, but he had yet to hear Lydia utter a peep. Despite relishing his time with the children, his real mission in eating with the family was so he could to get more familiar with Susannah, the flaxen-haired woman from his visions. A little at a time, she was beginning to share stories of her life on this farm as it was before William went off to war and Raoul arrived. He cradled George’s head as the child sat in his lap, running his fingers through George’s sandy-colored hair.
