Alexandra cautiously slid back the iron bolt and peered through the crack in the door.
A haggard Indian woman stood with a plate and mug in her hand. "Food for the Missy Lady," she repeated.
Even through the crack in the door Alexandra could smell the pungent aroma of venison soup. "For me?" She pulled the door open. "Thank you."
The old woman bobbed her silver head. "Your neet-il-se, Hunter of the Shawnee tell me to come. Bring you food. Make sure room warm."
Alexandra watched her put the plate and mug down on the only table in the bare room. "You know my husband?"
She clasped her hands bringing them to her left breast. "Hunter of the Shawnee, he was married to my nuxans n-dah-nes."
Alexandra shook her head and the woman closed her eyes in search of the correct words.
"Bro-ter . . . bro-ter's d . . . doh-ter."
"Brother's daughter? Laughing Rain was your niece?"
The old woman shook her head, waggling a shriveled finger. "It is not a good thing, this to speak the name of the dead."
"Oh. I'm sorry." Alexandra sat down on the corner of the bunk and patted the flat tick beside her. "But you are of the Delaware nation?"
"I am Lenni Lenape, what English manake call the Delaware."
"Sit with me a moment."
The old woman shook her head.
"Please," Alexandra coaxed. "I'm hungry for a woman's company." When the old woman appeared to be considering the invitation, Alexandra patted the bed again. "You look tired. Please sit, just for a minute."
The old woman nodded and came toward the bed slowly, her back hunched over by years of hard work and poor nutrition. "This old woman's bones, they hurt. This is true. A girl will give baby tonight. This old woman must be strong to cut the girl's pain."
"There's a woman in labor here in the fort?"
The old woman shook her head sadly. "Little girl. Too few summers to carry a soldier's seed." She lifted her lined palms heavenward. "But what Manito gives us, we do not question."
Strangely taken by this Indian she had known only a few moments, Alexandra studied her lined leathery face. It was obvious that this old Lenni Lenape woman had once been very beautiful. "What's your name?" she asked. "What do your people call you?"
"Ah. My people, they are dead. I have no people. I live here because I have no sons to care for my old bones. Here the soldiers feed me and bring me wood for my fire. I care for their wives, for the little children." She looked up, her eyes unfocused, a bare hint of a smile on her face. "But once, the Lenni Lenape once called me—" She sighed, searching her mind for the English words, then she made a fist. "They called me She-Who-Stands-Strongly." She smiled at the memory, then shrugged, the smile fading. "Now I am called Old Esquawa if I am called a name at all."
Alexandra watched her rise and walk slowly to the door. "I don't know much about childbirth, but if you need a woman's help, come for me."
The old Indian woman gave a nod as she shuffled out the door.
Not twenty minutes later, She-Who-Stands-Strongly was tapping at Alexandra's door again. "Come," she called through the rough-hewn door. "Come, wife of Hunter. This old woman has need of you."
Alexandra swung open the door. "Is something wrong? Has the girl had her baby?"
She-Who-Stands-Strongly nodded. Her wrinkled suntanned face was beaded with perspiration. "The baby will not come. I have need of help." She grasped Alexandra's hands and turned them palm up, studying them carefully. After a second she nodded and dropped her hands. "Yes, strong hands. Good heart. You can help this old woman and this child who will be a woman." The Indian turned abruptly and started back down the dark corridor.
Alexandra grabbed her rabbitskin cloak off the bed. She knew she should find Hunter and tell him where she was, but by the look on the old woman's face, she was afraid there wasn't time. "I don't know anything about birthing," she said as she followed the Lenni Lenape woman.
For someone so old and frail, She-Who-Stands-Strongly now walked quickly.
"It does not matter. I need only another pair of woman's hands."
Chapter Sixteen
Following She-Who-Stands-Strongly down the maze of log-walled corridors that connected the inner cabins of the fort, Alexandra learned from the old woman that the girl about to give birth was Sara. She was a half-breed left abandoned as a small child by her Shawnee mother. Sara had grown up at the fort where the father she had never known had once been stationed. She was thirteen or fourteen years old. The baby's father was one of the soldiers. Sara didn't know who.
The old Indian woman said the baby was breech but could be born safely with skillful hands and the help of God Almighty, known to her people as Manito.
When Alexandra hinted at her concern for who would care for a child's child, She-Who-Stands-Strongly jutted out her bony chin and declared that she could certainly care for a babe. Alexandra smiled in the darkness of the dank log-walled corridor. She had no doubt at this moment that the old woman could.
Alexandra found Sara's birthing room to be nothing like an Englishwoman's birthing room. There was none of the stinking cloistered feeling Alexandra was familiar with. The room Sara and She-Who-Stands-Strongly shared was bright with candlelight. The two tiny windows were thrown open to allow the crisp night air to fill the room. A sweet smell of pungent burning herbs hung in the cool air.
Rather than lying back in a bed, Sara was seated on a chair, her legs drawn up beneath a billowing night gown.
"Up! Up!" She-Who-Stands-Strongly ordered as she entered the room. "Up! Up! Sara, girl. This baby will come faster!"
Alexandra hung in the doorway. She was shocked by how young this girl with her huge rounded belly appeared. Sara was barely more than a babe herself. Alexandra couldn't imagine what man would want to bed a girl whose breasts were barely budding. How cruel the world was to some . . .
She-Who-Stands-Strongly pulled the door shut behind Alexandra's back, as if to be certain she wouldn't escape. "Help me!" She fluttered her fingers. "This Sara girl must get up. She must walk! Big baby must come down!"
Alexandra tossed her rabbitskin cloak on the floor and walked to the chair where the girl sat. Sweat beaded on the child's pale face, black matted hair stuck to her cheeks and neck in clumps. "My name is Alex," Alexandra said, going down on one knee as she took Sara's hand.
Sara's eyes were half closed. She was obviously exhausted.
"Sara, She-Who-Stands-Strongly says you have to get up. She says it's the only way your baby will come."
Sara shook her head. "Too tired," she mumbled. Just then another contraction overtook her and the girl clutched her swollen middle, groaning.
"Holler," the old Indian woman said from the fireplace where she was throwing a handful of dried herbs onto the fire in the hearth. "No one to hear you, girl. No one to care!"
Alexandra waited until the contraction passed and then she tugged gently on Sara's arm. "You have to get up," she insisted.
Slowly the girl rose. She-Who-Stands-Strongly took Sara's other arm and the three began to pace the uneven floorboards. At each contraction they stopped and Sara leaned heavily on Alexandra, but when the wave of pain passed she walked again.
An hour passed and then another. Twice the old woman examined Sara. The labor was progressing, but slowly. Alexandra lost all concern for time and for herself and her own problems. All that mattered was helping She-Who-Stands-Strongly bring this baby alive into the world.
Sometime in the middle of the night a pounding knock came at the door. "Alexandra! Alexandra! Are you in there?"
"Hunter?" Alexandra pushed back the hair off her face. It had been hours since she'd thought of her husband and the reason they were here.
"Alexandra!"
"Go! Go, to your husband," She-Who-Stands-Strongly commanded. "We will let this girl rest."
"Just a minute!" Alexandra helped Sara into the chair and went to the door. She swung it open and slipped out, pressing her back to the closed door.
<
br /> "What the hell do you think you're doing? I went crazy looking for you!"
Alexandra wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She was exhausted and wrought with fear for the young girl inside. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "There wasn't time. There's a little girl in here having a baby. She-Who-Stands-Strongly needed my help. What was I supposed to do?"
"You could have let me know where the hell you were!"
Alexandra smiled. In the darkness of the corridor she could make out the lines of Hunter's face. He had been afraid for her. He really did care. She reached up and caressed his beard-stubbled cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
He covered her hand with his. "Alexandra, I have to go."
"Cain?"
He nodded. "I know where he's headed. I can catch up with him on the trail, but I have to go now."
Alexandra turned to look at the closed door. She could hear the rumble of She-Who-Stands-Strongly's soft voice. Alexandra looked back at Hunter. "I can't go now."
"I can't wait."
She looked at him, torn in indecision. "I can't go," she said finally. "I have to stay here. I can't leave Sara now. She might not live, Hunter."
He took her hands, sighing as he contemplated his choices. "It sounds logical," he thought aloud. "Logically you'd be safer here anyway, but . . ."
She chuckled. "You wanted me to stay behind at Fort Potter. Now you don't?"
"Afraid to let you out of my sight, I think."
"I'll be all right here. She-Who-Stands-Strongly has been kind to me. Sara needs me. They both need me."
Hunter grasped her around the waist and pulled her against him. He kissed the nape of her neck. "It seems we have no choice," he murmured in her ear. "I'll go with Jon and come back for you."
Alexandra rested her cheek on his chest, feeling the rise and fall as he took each breath. He really didn't want to leave her. His muscles were tense, his tone anxious.
Suddenly, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, she realized she was in love with Hunter. It wasn't just an infatuation. It wasn't just lust. It wasn't a childish attraction to the unseemly. It wasn't even that desperate yearning to be wanted. She loved Hunter. She didn't care what he'd done in the past, or who he really was, she loved him. The words hung on the tip of her tongue, but she bit them back, afraid to admit them to him.
He buried his face in the hollow of her neck. "I'm going to kill him and then I'm going to come back to you, sweeting. I'm going to make you glad I made you marry me."
She smiled up at him. "I'm sorry you have to go now. I was looking forward to spending a night in a bed with you." She didn't know what made her so bold. The exhaustion perhaps. Or maybe it was just this revelation that she was glad he was her husband. At least tonight.
He chuckled, brushing his lips against hers. "I have to admit I was considering the same possibilities."
The husky catch in his voice and his warm breath in her ear made her giddy. It felt so good to be wanted by this man. She lifted up on her toes and kissed him, not as a wife kisses farewell but as a lover bids until next time . . .
Hunter groaned, twisting his fingers through her hair as he pressed her against the cold, rough logs of the corridor. Alexandra molded her body to his, pressing her breasts to his chest, her hips to his. Her tongue flicked out to taste his upper lip and then she deepened the kiss, suddenly desperate to be part of him again.
"Promise me you'll be careful," Alexandra whispered, her voice husky with desire she knew must go unfulfilled for now. "Promise me!"
"If I didn't know better, I would think you approved of my attentions," he whispered, cupping her breast with his hand.
"Promise me, Hunter!"
"I promise. No chances. No heroics. Find Cain, kill him, and be done with it."
She pressed her lips to his, one last time, knowing she had to get back to Sara, knowing Hunter had to go. "I'll be waiting right here for you."
Hunter pulled away from her. "I've left the musket in your room. Also powder and ammunition. There are only a few soldiers here. This time of year the fort's filled with women, children, and old folk looking for a warm, dry place to winter. The lieutenant assures me you'll be safe. It's past the season of Mohawk raids. They've all gone home for their harvest feasts and to dig in for the winter. If you need anything, you tell the lieutenant."
She nodded her head, touching her lips, still feeling the rough, sensual feel of his mouth on hers. "Go. I'll be all right." She touched his broad chest with her hand, afraid to see him go. "See you when you get back."
He caught her chin with his hand and stared into her eyes for a moment, then released her and walked away. Alexandra listened to the sound of his heavy footsteps until they died away and then she returned to the birthing room.
"He looks for me?" Captain John Cain gave a laugh. "You jest!"
"No, sir." Charles Mattle shook his head. "Heard him say so myself, back at Fort Potter."
Cain drew on his cigar and stared into the flames of the campfire. The smell of snow was in the air tonight. He was uncomfortable, restless. "How long ago was this?"
"Three days ago, sir."
"Three days!" He kicked at a log protruding from the fire and sparks flew. "Why the hell didn't you find me sooner? I told you if you heard anything you were to come straight to me, Mattle!"
The young man cowered. "I . . . I did, sir. Soon as they left I came." He swallowed. "I was afraid to leave the night they came, else someone would suspect something."
Mattle's words tapped Cain's attention. "They? They who? He's still got the woman?"
Mattle nodded. "Her and some Indian dressed in Englishman's clothes."
"Tell me about her. Beautiful like that red bastard Two Crows said?" Cain's gaze wandered to the darkness surrounding them. He could have sworn he'd just heard something in the brush beyond the circle of light that protected them from wolves. After a second, he went on with his conversation, thinking he must have been mistaken. "Will she be worth my trouble?"
Mattle nodded. "Dark hair. Dark eyes. Striking. But, but Captain, there could be a problem."
"Problem? What the hell you talking about, Mattle? Speak up!"
The young man stared at his dusty boots. "He married her."
"Married her?" Cain made a face. "Who married her? You not making any damned sense, Mattle!"
"The redhead. Hunter, he calls himself. He married her that night at the fort. I heard so the next morning. Seems he had some reverend up in the middle of the night. Married 'em stark naked the boys at the fort said."
Cain twisted his cigar in his mouth, his gaze wandering to the campfire's flames again. "He can't marry her, she's mine," he said, more to himself than to the soldier. "I paid for her."
"Yes, sir. I know that. The thing is—"
Cain suddenly turned to stare into the shadows beyond the light of the fire. The boy stopped in midsentence. "Sentry!" Cain called, feeling the hair rise on the back of his neck. Was someone watching him?
"Yes, sir," came a voice out of the darkness.
"Just wanted to be certain you were at your post and not dreaming of your wet nurse," Cain answered.
"Yes, sir! No, sir. Awake, sir."
"Have you seen anything out there? Heard anything?"
"Just the wind, sir."
Cain looked back at Mattle, not wanting to appear skittish in front of one of his men. "Now what were you saying? There was something else?"
"Ye . . . yes, sir. He . . . Hunter was asking questions about you."
"About me?" Cain looked back at Mattle. "I'm flattered. What about me?"
"Wanted to know if you'd been seen."
"Why?"
"I don't know, sir. He was tightlipped about it. Just asked a few questions whilst playing cards. He was at another table so it was hard for me to hear. I had to be careful so no one would suspect. You told me that."
Cain removed the cigar from his mouth and turned it between his thumb and forefinger thoughtfully. "So the Hunter is looking fo
r me, is he?" He smiled. "Gone to the Noniack has he?"
"Yes, sir. That's my guess. That's the direction the boys at the fort sent him."
"And he took my woman? You're certain of that?"
"Yes, sir. Saw them leave with my own eyes. Him, the girl, and the Indian that fancies himself a gentleman."
Cain tossed the butt of the cigar into the campfire and strode away. He had a bit of soft flesh waiting for him in his tent and suddenly he was anxious to have her. "Excellent," he murmured, dismissing Mattle with a wave of his hand. "Excellent."
"Hunter, do you really find it necessary to run?" Jon panted, coming to a halt and leaning over, his palms pressed to his thighs. "Surely you don't think Cain has his soldiers running through the forest like a pack of Iroquois!"
Hunter stopped in the middle of the game path and turned to face his companion. Only the thin sheen of perspiration across his forehead indicated the grueling pace he'd set since dawn. He looked up at the bright sun rising in the east to burn off the powder of snow that had fallen during the night. "You've grown soft, traveling with a woman," he teased.
"Alexandra! Hah! She's nearly as bad as you are. The two of you get a thought in your head and you can think of naught else!" Jon walked toward Hunter, swinging his water skin off his shoulder to take a drink. "Either of you would kill a man walking if he let you." He shook his head. "Sacred blood, what I wouldn't do for a carriage and a pair of footmen right now."
Hunter chuckled as he grabbed the water skin from Jon's hand and took a long pull. Jon made a face, crossing his arms over his chest. "And that's another thing, how's a man to keep warm with no liquor to heat his blood? I can't believe you poured the last of my brandy on the blessed ground!"
"I want you clear-headed when we come upon Cain. I don't know how many men he travels with. Could be soldiers, could be Mohawks, could be both."
Jon snatched back his water skin. "We going to kill them all?"
"Only if we have to. They turn Cain over to me and they can all go free."
Jon exhaled loudly. "Fat chance I should think."
"Enough rest." Hunter repositioned the bow he carried slung over one shoulder and started down the path. "Let's get moving. I don't like leaving Alexandra behind. Not one bit."
His Wild Heart Page 17
