Through the Fire (The Native American Warrior Series)

by Beth Trissel

  “I thought you were in command.”

  “Of strategy. Not of everything.”

  “Black Knife will hear the capitaine. Yet he will do as he wishes,” Shoka explained.

  “Then I shall plead as your chief has requested and take my sister with me. Have either of you a better plan?”

  Renault heaved a weighty sigh. “Why is it I suddenly have the urge to take a certain girl with me and desert?”

  “The French shoot deserters,” Shoka said darkly.

  “Generally at my own orders.”

  “I wish we could all go far away, but I can’t abandon my family. Nor will Kate, when she learns of their plight. Do you not see, Capitaine?” Rebecca entreated.

  “I also see the risk you will be taking, and the risk you are asking me to allow your sister to undertake. Who can say what this innocent may do?”

  “I will look after her.”

  “You may not be able to,” Shoka argued.

  Renault pressed the tips of his fingers to his forehead. “There is one possible way around sending you to plead. I will request a parley with Captain Bancroft.”

  “Do you think he will agree?”

  “It is worth the attempt.”

  “I don’t think Uncle Henry will be persuaded. He’s bound to hate the French.”

  “As do you, Madame. Yet, here we sit, plotting together.”

  ****

  Rebecca took the crimson cloak that Renault held out to her and wrapped the woolen mantle around her shoulders. The cloth still smelled of lavender from the sachet she’d tucked in her saddle bag. “I’m so grateful to recover this.”

  “Kate saved other items as well. It’s a pity she had to turn your mare loose,” he said.

  “She couldn’t possibly have taken care of her.”

  “No. Wouldn’t you rather sleep the night in the cave?”

  Shoka glanced at the sullen lieutenant and shook his head. “The air is not good in here. An ill wind blows.”

  Renault smiled. “Suit yourself, my friend.”

  Rebecca looked beyond the men to her sleeping sister. She’d scarcely roused during the entire evening. “Are you certain that potion you gave Kate wasn’t too strong?”

  “She is merely worn out,” Renault assured her. “Tell me, what did you give Mademoiselle for her pain?”

  “Whiskey, though often as not it made her sick.”

  “I should think so. Can English doctors do no better?”

  “Don’t speak to me of doctors. They were useless, saying she would improve when gotten with child, as though I should have her mated like a mare in season.”

  Renault’s smile broadened. “It’s true. My mother said childbirth greatly eased her discomfort.”

  Rebecca’s jaw dropped. “She discussed this with you?”

  “Heavens, no,” he chuckled. “I overheard Mama advising a servant girl. Fear not, Madame, I am willing to be of service to your sweet sister.”

  “But will Kate still have you once she learns the truth?”

  The teasing twinkle in his eyes faded. “God only knows.”

  “And God alone. An attack on one’s people is not easily forgiven. Goodnight, Capitaine.”

  “Sleep well, Madame, Shoka,” he said, his tone somber.

  Taking her hand in his, Shoka led Rebecca from the cave out into a night shimmering with stars. Slowly, to keep her from catching her foot on any errant tree roots or undergrowth, he guided her past the tethered horses. One of the animals nickered in greeting, but their forms were hidden in the darkness.

  As Rebecca tilted back her head back to take in the canopy of the heavens spread above them, a huge glittering ball of light blazed across the sky, even lighting up the ground for a brilliant moment as it fell. “Look! An enormous falling star. Is that a good sign?”

  “Always you seek for signs,” he said.

  “What of you?”

  “My people do. I seek only the day as it comes.”

  He led her to a stand of hemlocks and spread the deerskin on the bed of needles beneath the boughs. “This will keep the dew from us.”

  She crawled onto the makeshift mattress, flopping down onto her back. The springy bed of evergreen needles cushioned her from beneath. “I’m too weary to move.”

  He laid his musket down and settled beside her, covering them both with the blanket and drawing her close. “Sleep now. I will just hold you.”

  “Forever. Never let me go.”

  “It is not I who will let go, fair one.”

  “Nor will I,” she protested drowsily.

  “You asked Renault if your sister will still have him. What of you? Will you still have me? I, too, must fight.”

  “Perhaps it won’t come to that. Captain Bancroft may hear Capitaine Renault.”

  “And if he does not?”

  “Then I must go to him and my uncle. But I will return to you. I promise.” An enormous yawn interrupted her vow.

  “May you not falter.”

  She wanted to say more, to spin out their precious time together, but sleep drew her down its irresistible well. The bright diamonds winking between the nodding hemlock boughs above her disappeared.

  When she awakened minutes—or was it hours—later, she had the distinct impression of being watched. Some long-buried instinct told her where to look. Not twenty feet away, sat a large white dog, his glowing canine eyes fixed on her. He, somehow she knew it was a he, didn’t blink. Bathed in the eerie glow of misting moonlight, he looked every bit the ghost dog that Shoka and Renault had spoken of.

  A chill coursed through her. “Shoka.” She reached ice-cold fingers to his. “Wake up.”

  He tensed, immediately alert. “Catawba?” Sleep had make his voice thick.

  “No. Look.”

  Slowly he turned his head. “A wolf.”

  She’d never seen a wolf up close and never a white one. “Real or a spirit?”

  “I cannot see if his prints mark the grass, but I think he is real. See how the breeze ruffles his fur.”

  The silent animal held itself still, scrutinizing them.

  “It’s Gabe. It has to be.”

  “Yes. He adopted your sister. Perhaps he will adopt us. Peh neeakah,” Shoka called in a low steady voice.

  “What did you say?”

  “I told brother wolf we are friends.”

  Kate’s faithful guardian seemed to come to a decision. He rose on all fours, studied them for a second longer, and then trotted off. His ghostly form vanished into the hazy night, almost as if he’d been a dream.

  Rebecca pinched her arm to be certain she was awake. “What do you make of this?”

  “It is the sign you spoke of at the praying stone.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in signs?”

  “Perhaps I was mistaken,” he conceded.

  “You think God sent this wolf to Kate? I’ve heard such forbidding tales of them.”

  “Brother Wolf is clever. This one is like a spirit guide. Because of him, your sister lives, has been found.”

  “Will Gabe continue to watch over her?”

  “Who can say? Brother Wolf does as he will.

  ****

  Gold morning sunlight filtering through the trees followed Rebecca and Shoka as they stooped beneath the gaping stone and walked into the cave. Kate looked up from where she sat near the fire with a cup in her hands.

  Her eyes widened in delight and she bounded up with arms wide open. “Becca!”

  Relief rose in Rebecca and she dashed forward to meet her sister. “Mind the cup, dearest.”

  Renault swiftly lifted the wooden mug from Kate’s hand before she spilled its steaming contents over them both. She wrapped slender arms around Rebecca in a loving embrace and they sank together onto the dry leaves. “I wanted to rush out and see for myself when Marc told me you’d come, but he said I should let you sleep. I’ve been so frightened for you.”

  Rebecca hugged Kate in return. “I was beside myself with worr
y over you.” She pulled back to inspect her sister more closely. “I see you’ve a little color in your cheeks this morning. You look stronger. How are you faring?”

  Kate beamed at Renault as if he were her shining knight. “Much better. Marc is taking good care of me.”

  Rebecca pressed her lips together. “So I’ve heard.”

  “You mustn’t hate him because he’s French. I know how you feel, about the officers especially, but Capitaine Renault is truly wonderful. Don’t despise him,” Kate entreated.

  Amusement hinted in Renault’s eyes.

  Rebecca made herself reply without a trace of malice. “How could I despise your rescuer, dearest?”

  Kate hugged her again. “I was so afraid you might.”

  “For Capitaine Renault, I will make an exception.”

  “And for Lieutenant Remy. He’s such a dear.”

  If the entire regiment were present, Rebecca suspected Kate would urge her to bless each man. “Certainly.”

  “Good,” Kate sighed. Her tight hold slackened, but concern still shadowed her face. “Marc and I are to be wed as soon as may be. Is that all right?”

  “Rather sudden, is it not?”

  “I hadn’t met him before,” Kate said simply. “Now that I have, I know he’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”

  Rebecca managed a wooden smile, even as her heart sank. “Of course. You’re of age. You may wed where you like.”

  Kate lit up, as only she could, the gold flecks in her eyes glowing. And it struck Rebecca that she was very much a feminine version of Renault, with her eyes and chestnut hair.

  “Where I love,” she amended. “I’m so glad you approve. I couldn’t bear not to have your blessing.”

  “I wish you both much happiness.”

  “Oh, we shall be happy, Becca. Very.”

  “I pray you will.”

  “Merci,” Renault said, his expression of humble gratitude one Rebecca never thought to see. He should be grateful, she thought, considering what she might have said about him.

  Shoka, who’d been waiting by the entrance, walked over to the fire. He laid his hand on Renault’s shoulder. “Guard this treasure well, Capitaine. You are a fortunate man.”

  “Extremely fortunate.”

  Kate looked up at Shoka with wide-eyed uncertainty.

  Rebecca slipped her hand into his. “Kate, this is my—” she hesitated, loath to attach a term to their relationship. “Shoka,” she rushed on, flustered by Kate’s questioning gaze. “Shoka, this is Katherine Page, my dearest Kate.”

  Kate regarded him with the fixity of her wolf friend. “Marc says you saved my sister’s life.”

  “I did. Though another may have chosen to,” he said.

  “I thought warriors only wished to kill English people?”

  “Not all,” Shoka corrected.

  “Nearly all the soldiers fell. Isn’t that wrong?”

  “In war? How many warriors do English soldiers kill?”

  Kate considered. “As many as they can?”

  Shoka remained silent, letting her digest her own words. “War is evil,” she said.

  “Yes.” The sort of affection that Rebecca had seen him bestow on Meshewa in a lighter mood warmed his eyes. “You are a rare one, little sister. May the world do you no harm.”

  “Nor you.”

  “It already has, many times. Yet I live.”

  Rebecca listened to their exchange with nervous fascination. Whatever Kate thought tumbled out of her mouth like a spring bubbling over.

  “You speak English well. Other warriors I’ve seen speak mostly Shawnee or French,” Kate said.

  “There are also those who know English.”

  “Then I must be careful what I say.”

  “This is wise to do in any tongue,” he suggested.

  “I suppose so. Do you love Becca?” she suddenly asked.

  If Shoka was taken aback by her forthright manner, he hid it well. “I love her much.”

  She turned her kitten-like stare on Rebecca. “Marc says you love Shoka in return.”

  “I do.”

  Kate waited for more, but how could Rebecca explain this forbidden love that transcended the world as her sister understood it?

  Shoka smiled slightly. “I am a good cook.”

  Rebecca nodded. “Wonderful.”

  “Wonderful at something else as well, I’ll wager,” Renault grinned.

  His retort was lost on Kate, though not the inexplicable mystery. “Becca has good reasons for loving Shoka,” she concluded with the simple faith in her older sister that she’d always had. Kate cocked her head to one side and inspected Shoka like a contemplative cat. “You aren’t bad looking for a warrior. Sort of handsome, even.”

  He maintained perfect control. “Thank you.”

  Kate seemed to be struggling with something before she spoke. “I’m not going to be able to be with Becca a great deal longer. Will you promise to take good care of her?”

  “I promise.”

  She bowed her head and closed her eyes with a relieved smile. “That’s good, then.”

  Tears swam in Rebecca’s eyes. Kate was asking Shoka to take her place, and all this time she thought she’d been the one doing the looking after.

  “You will marry her, won’t you?” Kate pressed.

  “Shawnee do not wed as the English do.”

  “They have wives, don’t they?”

  He nodded, and Kate pressed on. “Then make her yours.”

  “I have done so.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. “How?”

  Rebecca wondered the same thing.

  “We gave each other our pledge.”

  “Is that all there is to it?” Kate asked.

  “No. I took her to myself.”

  Renault dropped onto one knee beside Kate. “Shawnee wed in the Biblical sense. The two becoming one flesh.”

  Shoka met the young woman’s questioning look. Clearly, Kate was bewildered. Renault tilted her chin so that she must look at him. “I will speak more of this to you later, chérie. We keep our guest standing.”

  With a nod, Kate slid aside to make room between her and Rebecca. “Sit here, Shoka. Lieutenant Remy has cooked corn mush.”

  Shoka remained as he was. “I should hunt.”

  “No need. Stay.” Renault took his place on Kate’s other side.

  Rebecca tugged at Shoka’s hand. “Rest your shoulder.”

  He shrugged and sat where Kate had indicated.

  “I thought you looked a bit stiff,” Renault said. “What happened?”

  Shoka patted the wound hidden beneath his shirt. “Musket fire struck me here yesterday. Catawba. A small war party.”

  “They dared go after a party the size of Black Knife’s?”

  Shoka shifted uncomfortably. “No. Just me.”

  Guilt pricked Rebecca. “I was with him.”

  “Ah. I see. He was distracted.”

  Rebecca took the steaming bowl of sweet-smelling mush that Remy held out. “And nearly killed.”

  Kate swiveled her head from one to the other, her eyes uneasy in her pale face. “What happened?”

  Rebecca reached down into the neckline of Shoka’s shirt and lifted the dented locket, warm from his skin. “This saved his life, but he was knocked out completely.”

  Renault whistled, and Kate touched the globe with her finger. “You truly must love Shoka to give him your locket.”

  Remy handed Shoka a bowl of the thick porridge. “How you escape?” he asked in his heavy accent.

  Shoka nodded toward Rebecca. “She held off the warriors with my pistol while I lay knowing nothing. I woke to hear her tell Tonkawa she would drop him if he came near.”

  Renault coughed and hid a smile behind one hand. “I can imagine.”

  Lieutenant Remy tipped his own hand to Rebecca in tribute. “Well done, Madame. You have great courage.”

  Kate stared at her. “You did that?”

  “She is a fighter, y
our sister. Do you not know this?” Shoka asked.

  “Yes. But Becca couldn’t defeat these warriors alone.”

  “No. Others arrived to aid us.”

  Renault drew his brows together. “I’ve heard of Tonkawa. Not a war chief yet, but a respected leader, and determined.”

  “His eye is on Rebecca now,” Shoka said.

  “No doubt. I expect we will see him in a larger party.”

  Kate’s forehead wrinkled. “Who are these warriors?”

  “Catawba. Enemies of the Shawnee and French, allied to the English,” Shoka replied.

  “English? But you said he would steal Becca?”

  Shoka’s mouth tightened. “Tonkawa does as he likes.”

  “He’s something of a renegade,” Renault said. “Even apart from him, the English have difficulty maintaining strong tribal allies. The Cherokee will turn on them before long.”

  “The English treat all warriors like dogs under their feet,” Shoka said in disgust.

  “All English?” Kate pressed him.

  “The Quakers do not and a few others. Father Andrew.”

  “A priest?”

  “Anglican,” Renault supplied. “An itinerant priest who travels the frontier. He and Shoka are…friends.”

  “Most unusual.” Kate laid her head on Renault’s shoulder. “So many different people. All these tribes. Some who should be enemies are allies and some allies are enemies. This war is so confusing.”

  He pressed her hand to his lips. “I know, and likely to become more so. There is something I must tell you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A stiff wind swept up the face of the rocky overlook, rippling Shoka’s shirt and blowing back the lengths of his hair. The clear blue sky stretched above him and two black ravens soared high overhead. Mountain ridges rolled in every direction, their deep purplish-blue waves brushed with gold by the late afternoon light. It was a splendid sight, but no more so than the woman hanging back behind him.

  He pivoted toward Rebecca, bemused at her timidity. He reveled in heights. “Come. You wish to look upon the fort.”

  The wind whipped her skirts and cloak as she wove her way between the boulders at the brink, deep uncertainty in her eyes. “Must we stand so near the cliff?”

  “To see well.” He closed his fingers around her arm and guided her beside him onto a tuft of flattened grass. Only a rockslide, a few stunted trees and shrubs rooted stubbornly amid the stones, lay between them and the vast expanse below.