"This man—"
A man's loud voice interrupted Fire Dancer. "Muneto Eekwaiwah!" Okonsa broke away from the circle of men and women. He said something else in Shawnee.
Mackenzie, in confusion, looked to Fire Dancer for interpretation.
"Okonsa says he protests the marriage," Fire Dancer whispered. He still held her tightly against him. "He says we cannot force you to marry me. He says it will only cause more trouble between the Shawnee and the British."
Snake Man barked something at Okonsa.
Red Fox chimed in.
Okonsa answered in short, abrupt sentences.
Red Fox spoke again, and Okonsa lowered his gaze.
Fire Dancer glanced at Mackenzie. She shook with a mixture of fear, anger, anguish. "What? What's going on?"
"Our mother tells Okonsa to be silent. He may not interfere. My mother declares this a spiritual matter rather than a political one. It is not the village's decision, it is Snake Man's."
Snake Man picked up his snake from the ground, draped it around his neck, and wobbled away.
The crowd broke up and the men and women began to mill about. They all spoke at once in their native tongue.
Mackenzie stared in skepticism as the old man wandered off into the darkness, muttering to himself. "That's it," she whispered. "No discussion?"
Fire Dancer released her arm. "It would be so bad to become this man's wife?"
She could have sworn she heard distress in his tone. "Well, no . . . Yes . . . I . . ." She didn't know what to say. He'd caught her completely off guard. A moment ago he acted as if he didn't want to marry her and now . . . "Fire Dancer . . ." She gazed into his black eyes. "This should be between you and me. They can't force me to marry you or anyone else."
"No? Is that not what your people do all the time? You wed off your daughters to men they have never met? Men who will never love them and care for them?"
Mackenzie was so rattled by Snake Man's edict that she couldn't think clearly. She was making such a mess of everything. "That . . . that's different."
He lifted a haughty black eyebrow. He was angry with her, and she didn't know why.
"How?" he demanded.
"Colonial women are married off to colonial men, not—"
"Savages?" he cut in.
She had hurt his feelings and she didn't mean to. "Fire Dancer—"
"Greeting, daughter to be," Red Fox interrupted. She smiled proudly as if her son had just been betrothed to the king's daughter. "It will be good to have you as a daughter. Better that you will make this woman a grandmother again. My grandson, Tall Moccasin, grows to be such a man that he does not have time for old women."
Mackenzie didn't know how to respond. She hadn't expected Red Fox to be pleased by the thought of her son marrying a white woman. "Th . . . thank you. I . . . I didn't realize that you were chief. Fire Dancer didn't tell me. I thought he meant that his father was chief."
"His father, chief?" She tipped back her head and laughed. "He-Whose-Name-Cannot-Be-Spoken was a good man but not a chief man." She touched Mackenzie's sleeve. "Come to this woman's wigwam tomorrow. We will speak. This woman would like to know the woman who will make her son happy." With a smile, Red Fox walked off.
Mackenzie faced Fire Dancer. She felt like she was hurling through space again. "Can't we talk about this?"
He took her arm, none-too-gently. "The holy man has spoken. You will have to accept your marriage to this savage. "
She shoved his arm away angrily. "I never said that. I love you."
The walked through the village, past wigwams. Some of the Shawnee watched them with interest.
He stared straight ahead and spoke softly in English. "But you do not want to marry me?"
"I . . ." She exhaled. He acted like he didn't want to marry her, and yet, he seemed hurt by the idea that she might not want to marry him. The man made no sense. "I don't know what I want. Don't you understand?"
He raised the doorflap to his wigwam for her. "This man is trying to understand."
She ducked in and he followed. He lit an oil lamp. It glowed softly, casting shadows across his face. A cricket chirped under the bed.
She stood in the center of the wigwam, her arms wrapped around her waist. "I need some time to think about this." Her head was so full of thoughts, her chest so tight with emotions that she had a difficult time finding anything to say that made sense.
"The shaman can't just tell me to marry you. You . . . you didn't even ask me. And—" she lifted her hand weakly "—what about Laughing Woman?" She dropped it to her hip. "The idea of you marrying me obviously upset her. Why?"
He crouched at the firepit and fed the red coals slivers of wood. "This man probably would have married her."
He said it so calmly that for a moment she stared at him in disbelief. "What? She was your betrothed?" she sputtered.
"Mahtah . It was not official, but everyone knew we would probably wed."
"Including Laughing Woman?"
"Ah."
Mackenzie paced. She fought twinges of jealousy, but mostly she felt badly for Laughing Woman. The woman had been so kind to Mackenzie. Surely she suspected what was between Mackenzie and Fire Dancer. When she walked into his wigwam earlier, there must have been no doubt. Mackenzie felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. She had stolen another woman's man.
"Why didn't you tell me back at the fort?" Mackenzie demanded angrily. The anger gave her something to hold onto. It made it easier for her to keep her thoughts rational.
"Would it have mattered?" He stood. "Would you have loved this man any less because he was promised to another?"
"I'd never have let myself fall in love with you!" she shouted. Unwelcome tears sprung in her eyes. "I hate you." She grabbed her hairbrush off the sleeping platform. "I hate you for what you've done to me."
He walked to the door.
She hurled the brush at him. "I wish I'd never laid eyes on you."
The brush glanced off his back, and he left the wigwam without another word.
Mackenzie regretted her foolish reaction immediately. She dropped to her knees and buried her arms and face in the furs piled on the sleep platform. Tears welled up in great sobs. No one had ever told her it would be so hard to love someone so deeply.
Fire Dancer stepped out of his wigwam and crouched outside the door, lowering his head to his hands. He was so frustrated by his own turmoil that he didn't know how to deal with Mackenzie's. He knew she loved him as surely as he knew the hairbrush had been flung in fear and anger. But the fact that she hadn't immediately consented to marrying him still hurt.
She didn't want to marry. She said she loved him . . . but not enough to love him forever?
Fire Dancer felt like a fool. Here he was, a Shawnee prince, a warrior, a man who would be chief someday, and he was nearly in tears over a woman. He loved her so much. He didn't like the idea of being told to wed, either, but if a man had to wed, why not wed the woman of his passions? Secretly, perhaps, he had hoped for this sentence all along. Then the decision could be made for him.
But Mackenzie didn't want him—not enough to join him and his life. Did he love her enough to leave his people? It wasn't that simple. He could not leave the Shawnee now. The war was escalating. The Shawnee council was about to choose sides between the French and the British. His mother's people needed him. He could not abandon them, not even for love.
Fire Dancer stood and exhaled slowly. He drew a cleansing breath. Snake Man had spoken. He would marry the fire-haired white woman. It was the only way to keep his soul intact. Mackenzie would come around. He had only to give her time to accept him as her husband. Who else was there for her? She had said herself that she had never loved a man as she loved him. Certainly she had not loved the towheaded Josh Watkins.
But she had loved her father . . .
Fire Dancer stared up into the dark sky. Why hadn't he told her when she'd awakened last night that her father was dead? Why hadn't he told her this evening when he went to his wi
gwam to tell her?
Because he didn't want hurt her. Because he wanted her to grow strong. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted her to love him. She would hate him if she knew he was responsible for her father's death. What chance would they have at a good marriage then? Fire Dancer understood the anger she felt for him at this moment. He could deal with her anger. But hate? Could he survive her hatred or would his heart shrink in his chest? Would he perish?
With a heavy heart, Fire Dancer strode through the village. Most of the men and women had retired for the evening. A few gathered at the home firepits for a last smoke of a pipe, or to talk of the day's events. He spoke to no one as he walked, his gazed fixed on a wigwam near the far side of the village. If there was to be any hope for this marriage Snake Man had commanded, there was someone he had to speak with first.
Fire Dancer halted at the wigwam Laughing Woman and her children shared with Mary. Before he had a chance to speak, a soft voice came from inside.
"This woman wondered how long it would be before you came."
Fire Dancer stepped inside the open door. "I must speak with you, Laughing Woman."
She smiled. "I know. Let me say good night to my babies and then I will serve you drink at my hearth."
Fire Dancer stood in the shadows and watched as Laughing Woman knelt at a sleeping platform. She spoke gently to her toddlers, covering them with a sleeping fur. She kissed each one and wished them happy dreams.
Fire Dancer felt a sense of sadness. Laughing Woman would have a made a good wife. She would have been a good mother to their children. She was a good mother. He wished desperately that he had felt passion for her. If he had, he would have married her before he left for the peace negotiations at Belvadere. But there, again, was that path of fate Snake Man had spoken of. It was clear that the marriage between them had never been meant to be. Her children tucked into bed, Laughing Woman crossed the wigwam. She placed her hand gently on his arm. "Let us go outside, friend. My sassafras tea seeps for us."
Outside, at her firepit, Laughing Woman had already set out two gourd cups. A clay pot of tea rested on a rock near the coals where it would stay warm.
He watched her. She was so beautiful, so exquisite with her thick ropes of black braids and proper black eyes. But they were not blue. And they were not Mack-en-zie's . . . and they did not make his heart sing. "You did expect me, didn't you," he asked.
"Ah." She sat cross-legged on a grass mat. "Sit, rest, Fire Dancer. It has been a long day for you." She poured him a cup of tea. "You know it is not necessary that you come here."
He accepted the cup. "But it is. I came to apologize."
"It is this woman who should apologize. I should not have made a spectacle of myself at the communal fire tonight. I should not have dishonored you or myself by acting like a foolish maiden."
"That was my fault, not yours. The holy man's words took you by surprise." He took a sip, choosing his words carefully. "Before I left, there was an understanding between you and me, Laughing Woman."
"Or at least between your mother and my grandfather, eh?" She laughed.
He smiled, pleased that she could find humor in their situation. He certainly couldn't. "Ah'." His drew his lips down in a frown. "But this man led you to believe he would wed you. I led you to believe I would care for you and your children." He raised his chin so that his gaze met hers across the campfire. "This man honestly intended to do so."
"But then you met the white woman with hair the color of flame."
He glanced away. "I met her and I did not use the common sense my mother gave me. I could not resist my attraction to her, though she was forbidden. And as my punishment, she now possesses a part of my soul I cannot regain."
She stared over the rim of her cup. "You truly believe that?"
"Ah ' . It is true. When I am away from her, I cannot think. I do not feel like myself. We are so different, and yet I am only whole at her side." He shook his head. "It is a terrible thing."
Laughing Woman smiled as if she was an old woman of great wisdom. "Ah' , love is." She reached across the campfire and took his cup from him. "Now go. Return to your woman and be whole. Do not worry for this woman. I can care for myself."
He rose. "This man is truly sorry for what pain he has caused you."
She didn't get up. "This woman would have married you because you are a good man, Fire Dancer, and you would have been a good father to my children. But I would never have loved you as this woman loved her husband, so it is better this way, I think."
Her smile was infectious. He felt better. He had come here to comfort Laughing Woman, and instead she had comforted him. "Good night," he said as he walked away.
"Good night," she called. "But you go the wrong way, Fire Dancer. Your wigwam is that way." She pointed.
He turned back to her. "This man will spend the night with his brother and allow the white woman to calm her anger. Besides, I have much to do. It is just come to me that I must give her a peace offering and I know what it must be."
Laughing Woman waved and Fire Dancer walked off in the direction of Okonsa's wigwam. For the first time in many weeks, he felt a bright sense of hope in his heart.
Chapter Eighteen
Mackenzie woke to the silence and chill of the morning. Fire Dancer had not returned to the wigwam last night as she hoped and she'd slept restlessly.
She swung her legs over the edge of the sleeping platform, and dragged a sleeping fur with her. The fire had burned to embers and she was cold. She retrieved firewood from a neat pile near the door and carefully fed twigs, then larger pieces of wood to build up the fire.
Sometime in the middle night as she had lain on her back, she had considered going out to search for Fire Dancer. He had to be somewhere in the village. Where could he have gone? His mother's wigwam? Okonsa's? She bit down on her lower lip, not wanting to think the worst. Laughing Woman's?
No. She thought not. It wasn't in his character.
The flames of the fire radiated a soothing heat and Mackenzie extended her hands to warm herself. Last night she'd had a lot of time to think. Fire Dancer said they must wed. It was that or death for her. She had tried to imagine what it would be like to be married to him, to call him husband.
The idea of sleeping each night in Fire Dancer's arms warmed her all over. She tingled with pleasure at the thought of them making love whenever they wanted. But it hurt her deeply that he had not said he wanted to marry her. There had been no words of love from him last night, only talk of Snake Man's decree.
Could she make Fire Dancer want to marry her? Could she make him love her enough?
The next question was, did she want to marry him? Could she live like an Indian? Could she become one of the Shawnee? Deep down she knew that would be their only chance at making a marriage. Even if Fire Dancer was willing to try to live on the Chesapeake with her, it would never work. He belonged here in the open forest far from store fronts and rutted roads. Was this were she belonged? Was this her fate?
She thought of her father. She missed him, but she didn't miss her home in the tavern. She didn't miss the life she had led on the Chesapeake. She only missed her painting.
"Mack-en-sie?"
Mackenzie recognized the voice. "Laughing Woman?"
"May this woman come?"
Mackenzie hurried around the fire pit to push open the door flap. "Oh, I'm so glad you're here. I wanted to find you last night, only . . ." She backed up, allowing the woman entrance. "Only I didn't know where to look and I was afraid that if I tried to leave, Fire Dancer . . . someone might think I was trying to escape."
Laughing Women knelt at the firepit, her back to Mackenzie, and placed two clay pots on rocks near the flames. From a small basket, she extracted two fried corncakes and placed them on another rock. "Why you want come to me?"
Mackenzie stood near the door, the deer hide around her shoulders. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was."
"Sorry?" Laughing Woman rose and dug through vari
ous baskets along the wall. "Why sorry? You marry good man. He make nice babies."
Mackenzie felt the heat of her blush. It seemed all Shawnee were blunt with sexual matters. "I wanted to tell you how sorry I was that I . . . I took him."
Laughing Woman glanced up, a wooden trencher in one hand, a spoon in the other. "Take Fire Dancer? Take where? He take you to Shawnee village, ah?" She laughed at her own joke.
Mackenzie couldn't resist a smile. "No, you know what I'm trying to say. I'm sorry that you were going to marry him and I took his affections." This was so hard to explain with the language barrier. "I took his love."
Laughing Woman returned to the fire, signaling for Mackenzie to join her. "Ahhhh." She nodded. "This woman have understand." She patted a mat she covered with a fur. "Sit."
Mackenzie did as she was told.
"You cannot take a woman's man. You cannot take man's heart," she explained. "Fire Dancer of the Thunder Sky give his heart to white manake . Mack-en-sie give heart to Shawnee prince."
"I didn't mean for it to happen," Mackenzie confessed. "I wasn't even supposed to speak to him. My father forbade it."
"This woman understand." Laughing Woman placed a corn cake on the trencher and poured maple syrup from one of the small clay pots over it. "Your father say not talk. You catch Shawnee prince with spell of paint." She pushed the wooden plate into Mackenzie's hands with a wink. "Smart woman."
"Mahtah." Mackenzie swept her hair back with her hand. "I didn't understand the part about taking his soul. I wanted to paint him so desperately that I ignored his wishes. I never meant for any of this to happen. He loved you, Laughing Woman."
Her smiling face grew serious. "Mahtah." She took Mackenzie's hand in her small one. "Fire Dancer never love this woman, only like. Laughing Woman never love Fire Dancer, only like. Ad-mire. Laughing woman loved hus-band. Husband dead." She closed her eyes and hugged herself. "Only mem-mor-ies." She opened her eyes again. "Fate bring you and Fire Dancer of Thunder Sky to-geth-er. Fate and paintbrush, understand?"
Mackenzie smiled. "I understand. So you're not angry. I thought you were when you left the fire last night."
Fire Dancer Page 20
