by Shirl Henke
"This American 'king's man' has to be Wilbur Kent," Alex said.
"Now that we know he's in Talisi, we may be able to stop him," Dev replied. "Tall Crane and Pig Sticker should be able to convince enough others to ride with us."
A hastily convened council decided to send a dozen warriors with Dev and Alex. They were ready to depart within the hour. As Alex swung up on his horse, Barbara approached him after a fond farewell kiss with her husband. "Have you told Jocelyn good-bye?" she called out.
Alex cursed beneath his breath, wheeling the big gelding around. "There is no time, Mama. Tell her I'll return when this is over."
"But she'll worry, Alex. Besides, after last night, don't you wish to give her your love before riding away?" she asked with a knowing look in her eyes.
Damn, she was positively gloating...as if...as if she'd known the true situation all along. Had Joss confessed everything? Surely not. "You may do so for me, Mama," he said stiffly, kicking his horse into a trot and heading for the road as if the hounds of hell pursued him.
Barbara sighed in aggravation. What had gone wrong now?
* * * *
Although she knew that evasive replies frustrated her mother-in-law, Joss was loathe to explain the argument she and Alex had had the preceding night—even if she understood its cause, which she did not. Nor did she wish to describe the wild intimacies before it.
Feeling decidedly blue deviled, Joss spent the following day in her quarters, where the beautifully decked out bridal bower only served as a reminder of all that was not right between her and her absent husband. She browsed through several of the books Charity had left her, but could concentrate on nothing. Later in the day she decided to go for a walk.
Summoning Poc, without whom she never left the village, she strolled down by the river, admiring the deep lustiness of the woods filled with magnificent stands of hickory, oak and walnut trees, as well as a wide variety of colorful wildflowers that she had never seen before. Nature had lavished a great bounty on this raw new land. Wild blackberries glistened, fat in the afternoon sun, and peach trees groaned under the burden of their sweet juicy harvest.
"Now that I'm growing accustomed to it, I must confess I'm learning to appreciate the beauty here," she murmured to Poc as he dashed across the grass after a butterfly, then came trotting back to her side.
"That is a good beginning," a soft voice said, seeming to float out on the warm afternoon breeze. Then Tall Crane materialized from behind a thick stand of arrowwood bushes. He smiled courteously, his bow as courtly as any London gentleman's, if not for the fact he was dressed in buckskins and blankets with roached hair and a tatooed body.
Joss was still embarrassed over her foolish gaffe with him. Yet a part of her continued to feel it had not been unreasonable to admonish a man who gave every appearance of being wretchedly indisposed from overindulgence. Black Drink indeed! The stuff was a vile, hideous emetic concoction, not a religious rite at all, in her opinion.
Nevertheless she returned the old man's smile and greeted him politely as he fell in step beside her. His name fit him well for he was tall and thin, long of limb with a stringy toughness. His face had a great beak of a nose and was lined and creased far more than that of his sister. Poc seemed to like him well enough, thumping his tail in welcome.
"You are becoming accustomed to the place. You will become accustomed to the people as well. In time our ways will not seem so strange or foolish to you."
Her cheeks blazed. It was as if he could read her mind, a disconcerting thought indeed. "Oh, I did not intend to offend you—I'm afraid that my upbringing at times shows the worst of me. My father was a Methodist minister."
"That would explain much," Tall Crane replied gravely with just a faint hint of humor in his voice. “Tell me about your family, Jocelyn."
"There isn't much to tell really. My mother died when I was young and Papa raised me. His mission was to the poor in London's slums." She looked at him questioningly.
He nodded in understanding. "I have read about your great city," he replied.
An enigma, just as his sister was. Educated people who chose to live as aboriginals. But then perhaps their father's white blood was not sufficient for them to gain acceptance into colonial society. Joss remembered the pain in Charity's voice. I was not welcome in Savannah. Joss sketched her childhood and her work among the poor, glossing over how she and Alex had met and wed. Tall Crane was an attentive listener, seeming to digest each word thoughtfully.
They walked a bit farther in silence when he said, "You love my nephew and your heart is good."
"Even if I am an English outsider who's afraid of horses, alligators and just about everything else in this new land?"
"Yes, even us ... although I do not think you are so frightened as you were when you arrived."
"Did I show it so much?" she asked, feeling awful to have insulted Alex's family.
He nodded and the smile softened his austere features even more. "All this is strange to you. Our ways are different, sometimes primitive and superstitious to white eyes." When she started to protest he raised his hand and said, "Remember, I am half white, too, so I have been able to look at each side of my family with the other's eyes."
"Yet you chose to live here and marry a Muskogee woman."
"Yes, unlike my sister. Her husband Alastair Blackthorne was a good man. We each followed our hearts...as did Golden Eagle when he chose Dawn Woman. I did not approve of their love when first my nephew brought the Lady Barbara here."
Joss was taken aback by the confession. "But she is greatly beloved by your people now."
He smiled. "Yes. I feared her high birth and Devon's mixed blood would cause them both great pain if they wed, but they proved me wrong and I am glad of it. Here she is the Dawn Woman whose golden goodness is welcome as the sunrise itself. She won her place among us because she loved her husband so greatly that all could see it."
"How can I do that, Tall Crane? I love Alex with all my heart yet I cannot even convince him of it." The words simply tumbled out of their own volition. Joss was taken aback at how easily the old man had insinuated himself into her confidence.
"Golden Eagle was much like his son in that. He fought against loving, thinking he was overreaching, but in the end he accepted what was meant to be."
It seemed to Joss that her position with Alex was quite the reverse—she was the one overreaching for her beautiful golden rogue. "And you believe Alex and I are also...meant to be?" Her voice was filled with doubt, yet tinged with hope as well.
"I know it is so here," he said, raising one fist to thump it against his heart. "But you must teach your man this thing."
She waited patiently.
Seeming to change the subject he said, "Charity teaches
the Muskogee children to read, write and cipher so they may deal intelligently with the whites. You did say you were a teacher of the disadvantaged across the great ocean. Here, our people are equally in need..."
He let the suggestion trail off. Joss considered, remembering the curious boys to whom she'd given her spectacles and the disastrous aftermath. "Do you suppose all the elders would be happy with me teaching their children?" she asked hesitantly.
"Not all, but then, those who follow Turtle Snake do not bring their children to my sister's school."
He left it up to her. She had been bored and restless since they set sail from England, having nothing useful to do, not fitting in anywhere, feeling more and more alienated from Alex. Tall Crane was offering her an opportunity to find her own way here in Alex's country...if she possessed the courage to seize the chance. 'Tonight at supper I shall ask Grandmother Charity if I may help her," she said.
Tall Crane nodded. "I said that your heart was good."
* * * *
Peter McQueen cursed in a mixture of Muskogee and English as he squatted before the crackling campfire deep in the hilly ravines of the Tallapoosa River country. Wilbur Kent stood back in the shadows until the
savage with whom McQueen had been conferring left, then sauntered forward. "I take it matters are not going well," he said tightly, swatting at a mosquito that feasted on his neck.
"It be them accursed Blackthornes! Old Devon and his whelp. Half the towns reject the Red Sticks to sit around the fires and talk peace. Old women. Faugh!" He spat into the fire in disgust.
Kent looked down at the filthy half-caste who sat tamping down a pipe filled with a noisome mixture of tobacco and foul-smelling dried weeds. McQueen's blunt stubby hands were callused and grimy with blackened broken nails. His hair was long and hung stiffly, dressed with bear grease, which repelled the mosquitoes that tormented Kent but also unfortunately repelled anyone who stood within twenty feet of McQueen.
"Blackthorne has become much more of a hindrance than I'd believed possible. Even Weatherford is considering his cautions and warnings. We must deal with him and the son," Kent said, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he neared the fire, careful to remain upwind of his companion.
McQueen pulled a wicked-looking tomahawk stained with gore from his belt. "I will kill them."
'That might be more difficult than you imagine," Kent replied, rubbing his head where he still bore a scar given him by Alex Blackthorne in a London back alley. He had deduced who his assailant was only after Cybill had come to secure his release from prison. He would settle matters with the younger Blackthorne another time. Now the critical issue was Golden Eagle.
"My warriors will lie in wait for them when they return to Coweta," McQueen said.
"No. Even if you succeeded, you would only make martyrs of them. I have a better plan."
McQueen exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and squinted his cold black eyes. He knew the American was cunning. "What?"
"His wife is English, a noblewoman. She is currently in Coweta, visiting her Muskogee family."
"Fine yellow hair to decorate my scalp pole," McQueen replied, grinning.
"Not so quickly. We will not kill her, only take her prisoner and fetch her down to Mobile. Then let the Blackthornes follow her scent into an English stronghold..."
An unholy light glowed in McQueen's eyes as he nodded in understanding.
* * * *
"Sun Fox returns. I have heard the runners cry the message. If you hurry"—Panther Woman gestured to a path leading into the woods—"you will be able to greet him privately."
Joss was not disposed to trust Panther Woman, who was not only Turtle Snake's wife but the beauteous Water Lily's mother. "Are not his father and the other warriors with him?" she asked suspiciously.
Panther Woman shook her head, smiling beguilingly. "He has stopped by the river to swim. See, here the others arrive without him now."
Joss could see Devon and his Muskogee warriors surrounded by an excited crowd of people. Alex was not with them. Perhaps this was a golden opportunity. Visions of him alone, naked in the water, left her mouth dry with nervous excitement. She nodded to the older woman. "I thank you, Panther Woman."
Grateful she had put drops in her eyes and did not need spectacles, Joss hurried across the square and around the gathering crowd of laughing, talking people. Poc accompanied her, a safety precaution she no longer felt was really necessary.
The men's communal bathing place was just downriver of the one the women and children used. Her heart hammered in her chest as she smoothed her hair back, hoping it was not too tangled. The damp heat made it curl wildly and the children had pulled on it every opportunity they got, always exclaiming how it shined like bronze.
As she walked, Joss smiled, thinking of how wonderfully rewarding the past couple weeks had been. She was immensely grateful to Tall Crane for suggesting the idea about helping Charity with the children. She was a good teacher and they were wonderful pupils, every bit as bright, inquisitive and full of mischief as those in London. Having something useful to do had kept her worry at bay while Alex was gone. Barbara tried to put on a display of confidence, but Joss knew her mother-in-law was fearful about the men's dangerous mission.
But they were back safely—for now. Would they ride away again? She did not understand all the complexities of Creek Confederacy politics but she knew the situation was highly volatile. If only her family remained safe. She smiled to herself, realizing that with the passing of weeks what Barbara had assured her of was indeed coming to pass. She was becoming a part of this community.
These people possessed a highly complex society based on adherence to noble principles. It was strange to outsiders and there were still aspects that she did not approve of—such as tribal leaders taking more than one wife. But there were also many Muskogee customs that she felt whites would do well to emulate, such as allowing women control of all property. She only hoped Alex would be proud of the way she was adapting.
Joss heard the rich tone of his voice and the sound of splashing water coming from beyond the elderberry thicket up ahead. Joyously she sped up her pace, the dog with her. But then she heard the sound of a female voice, breathy and laughing as it blended with his in conversation. At once, she reached down to quiet Poc. The dog obeyed, looking at her questioningly.
Alex and the woman spoke in Muskogee. Although she was beginning to acquire some of the basic vocabulary of the language, Joss could not follow their rapid exchange. She stood still for a moment, afraid to peer through the undergrowth and see them.
No wonder Panther Woman had sent her here. The hateful woman wanted her to find out that Alex had taken up where he left off with her daughter. Perhaps she even hoped Water Lily would become his second wife! Being conversant enough in Muskogee custom now to know a husband could not take a second wife without the first's approval, she vowed grimly that such would never happen.
But Alex had always been a womanizer. She'd known it when she wed him. That had been one of the very reasons he'd proposed to her, she thought miserably. He would never reform. Should she leave? Slink off to lick her wounds alone in misery? No! She would not be a coward. Perhaps she had misread the whole situation. The least she could do was give her husband the benefit of the doubt and see what was going on. After giving Poc a low command to stay, she stepped forward and peered out at the water.
Joss regretted her decision. Alex stood waist deep in the stream, as naked as the bronze goddess who faced him—with her hands on his arms. Her breasts were large and heavy with dusky chocolate nipples standing up proudly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, nearly knocking them off balance in the water. His powerful arms encircled her as they splashed, nearly falling backwards.
Joss could not bear the sight another instant. She turned and ran like the coward she'd named herself, tears streaming down her face. The dog raced protectively at her side. Roots tripped her and branches slapped at her as she fled heedlessly through the woods. Alex had always been a rake. Their marriage, even now that it had been consummated, meant nothing to him!
Alex held on to Water Lily to keep them both from going under in the swift current. The cunning little minx seemed to have more hands than a centipede had legs, and she knew how to employ them. He had taught her all too well! But that was when they were younger, running wild with no thoughts of marriage. Still he was reasonably certain that he had been her first lover. They had parted as friends and he did not wish to hurt her.
Neither did he wish to resume their old liaison. He winced, thinking of Joss lying on the floor of their bridal bower with her tawny hair spread like shiny silk and those clear blue eyes staring up at him. She was his wife. He wanted her and no other, frightening as the fact was to him. Water Lily's considerable charms did nothing to rouse the lust of years gone by. He simply felt nothing for her, except regret that he must hurt her feelings.
She had approached him boldly in the water, saying that her mother had assured her he would take her as a second wife now that he had settled down with the first one. She had already proven her fertility by bearing a son to another warrior from the Bear Clan. She would make a fine wife. Then she had launched herself at h
im before he could protest.
"Careful, Water Lily, lest you drown us both. We're out too far in the current for this horseplay," he said, attempting to unclasp her hands from his neck once he'd regained his balance.
"You are a strong swimmer and so am I. Not like your pale English wife. I will be of great help to her. I can do twice the work she can."
"I am certain you could—but you know that white men do not take more than one wife at a time."
She pouted prettily, trying to draw closer to him again, although he held her at arm's length now. "You are Muskogee—the Sun Fox."
"I am Devon Blackthorne's son and he has chosen to keep only one wife. I honor his custom, Water Lily," he said gently.
Her huge black eyes began to pool with tears. "But she is skinny, pale and weak. She does not know how to please you in bed—or even enjoy your splendid man root."
Remembering that he'd thought precisely those same things about Joss, Alex winced. Joss was far from skinny or weak and although she might despise his Muskogee blood, she'd given ample evidence that she liked his "splendid man root" well enough. "She pleases me, Water Lily. I can have no other," he said simply, guiding her toward the shore. "Please, you must go now. Wed that brave warrior from the Bear Clan and have many more fine sons with him."
"You choose your white blood because your Muskogee blood is thin," she said angrily, breaking away and splashing regally through the shallows to shore, thinking she had delivered the utmost insult to Sun Fox, who was only one-eighth Muskogee.
He watched her go, admiring her lush backside with a sigh of regret. Wasn't this the very sort of thing his marriage to Joss was to allow? He would be disporting with the lusty Water Lily on that mossy bank right now if not for his wife. But he knew he did not desire the angry beauty who stiffly yanked on her clothing and stalked away. He wanted Joss—only Joss, curse him for a fool!
