by Beth Trissel
He looked past the gathering where Charity slumbered with Emma and Lily beside her. This mountainous trek in late autumn was hard on the women, Charity so recently injured, and Emma not fully recovered from the birth.
He slanted his eyes at Waupee and the swaddled infant tucked against his shoulder. How tenderly he held his tiny adopted daughter. Wicomechee would give almost anything for a child of his own, but he'd said nothing more to Charity after her initial alarm. Longing for family was as strong in him as the will to live, especially after his father had abandoned him and his mother died...but he didn't want to dwell on that and buried the aching pain deep inside where it belonged.
He glanced down at James sitting between him and Posetha as he roasted a skinned squirrel on a stick. The pleasure in the child's face bespoke his part in its demise. Wicomechee smiled at the boy. “You will grow to be a great warrior."
James beamed. “Like you, Muga, and Posetha?"
"What about me?” Waupee prompted.
"You are Uncle Papa. Not a warrior,” James explained.
Wicomechee laid his hand on his brother's arm. “Waupee is also a warrior. We taught him. We will teach you."
"Papa wanted me to be a farmer, but being a warrior is heaps better. Will it take me long to learn?"
"Many years. There is much to know."
"Uncle Papa killed that panther good. Did you teach him to shoot?"
Wicomechee studied Waupee. “Not so well as this."
"A lucky shot,” Waupee said.
"No. That shot took much skill."
Posetha regarded the adopted Englishman. “Why do you not share in the hunting?"
"I have,” Waupee argued.
"Not for many weeks."
Waupee shifted his gaze to the women, an underlying anxiety in his good humor. “I'd rather see to the horses."
"Uncle Papa is real good with horses,” James said.
Wicomechee rested his hand on the child's blond curls. “Yes. Yet there is more reason why Waupee does not hunt.” It came to him in a flash. “You fear to leave your wife."
"After Chaka nearly scalped Emma and went after Charity, I felt uneasy being any distance away,” Waupee admitted.
Wicomechee flung up his hands. “I also feel this."
Waupee met his exasperation with a half smile. “Someone must guard the women."
"A task I would gladly share."
Posetha grinned. “I also."
"Oh, no. Find your own woman,” Waupee tossed back.
James snorted. “What do you all want women for anyway? They're a bunch of trouble and don't make hardly no sense."
Waupee chuckled. “In about ten years you will understand why we trouble with these puzzling creatures."
James brushed his assurance aside to reason with Posetha. “You are much better off without a woman. They like things clean. You'll have to take baths,” he warned.
Posetha was unmoved. “I bathe in the river."
"But you can't have no fun with women around."
"I think I could have much fun with a woman.” Lips twitching, Posetha glanced around as if searching the trees. “Where must I seek for one?"
"Well,” James's said, conceding defeat in the face of Posetha's obstinacy. “I don't usually see them in the woods. They like cabins. You got any?"
Wicomechee closed an arm around the boy. “A wikon is like a small cabin. We have many in the village, also women."
James eyed Posetha as though he'd missed the obvious. “Look there, then."
Waupee chuckled. “The lad is right. What about a village girl? Nialinwe's not hard on the eyes."
"Beautiful,” Posetha agreed. “Yet Nialinwe prefers Wicomechee. She waits for him."
Wicomechee gave his loose-tongued friend a look.
Waupee's smile broadened. “Now that my brother has a wife, perhaps she will have you."
Posetha turned quizzical eyes to Wicomechee. “Perhaps she has already had Wicomechee. I saw his lips on hers the night before we left the village."
Waupee chuckled. “I missed all of that."
Wicomechee lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Nialinwe has a very willing mouth. Was I to refuse her?"
"I wouldn't have,” Waupee admitted. “But tell us, did you find more than her mouth willing?"
"I searched no further."
"Are you certain? There was a lot of dancing and drinking that night."
Wicomechee had summoned all his willpower to put the tempting beauty from him before he erred. “You had more rum than me, Waupee. I tasted only Nialinwe's lips."
James glanced up. “Why did you do that?"
"Never mind,” Waupee said. “I hope your memory serves you well, NiSawsawh, or we may return to find the young woman with child and an irate father awaiting you."
Wicomechee envisioned her scarred father. “I took care not to anger Wabete. He has the temper of a grizzly bear."
"And he's built like an ox.” Waupee patted Muga's shoulder. “Like Muga."
Posetha shot Wicomechee a teasing smile. “Nialinwe will have much anger to see you with another."
"No doubt she hopes you will wed her,” Waupee added.
Wicomechee rolled his eyes. “I gave her no promise. Her lips are sweet, but her tongue is bitter."
"Who knows what she told Wabete you did. I hope we don't find him breathing fire, demanding you take a second wife."
Wicomechee saw Charity startle beneath her blanket. She must have awakened earlier and been listening to them. She sat up bristling like an outraged cat and firing volleys at him with her eyes.
He'd done nothing to deserve such wrath and calmly faced her ire. “You are awake, Red Bird."
"Very much awake, Wyshetche."
He ignored her frosty tone. “How do you find your head?"
"Much clearer. And my hearing is perfect,” she added.
Posetha and Waupee exchanged mirthful glances. James peered in Charity's direction. “I saw her like that when I hid a snake in her bed. She chased me around the meadow."
Wicomechee stifled a grin. “Did she catch you?"
"Yep. Made me take the snake out and Papa gave me a whipping. I didn't do it no more."
"A wise choice."
"She looks even madder now,” James observed. “I don't think she likes you tasting that Nialinwe's lips."
Waupee and Posetha laughed, even Muga grinned, but Wicomechee kept a straight face. “No. Eat your squirrel. The meat is ready now."
James happily withdrew his skewered game to blow on it. Wicomechee stood, stretched casually, and dipped a cupful of steaming liquid from a small pot near the fire. He walked the few steps to Charity and extended the cup. The spicy fragrance promised the pleasantness of sassafras, but she didn't reach out her hand. Rather, she regarded him with a chill in her eyes, darting them to the cup, then back to him.
He concealed his amusement at her effort to refuse what was clearly so tempting. “I made the tea for you,” he coaxed.
She accepted the cup and sipped in brooding silence. Her stomach growled audibly.
"You are also hungry, are you not?"
She gave a grudging nod. He pivoted back to the fire, dished up a heaping bowl of cornmeal heavily seasoned with bacon, and returned. She reached out for his offering, but he kept a hold on the food. “We will eat together, Niwah."
She tilted her chin. “I prefer to eat alone."
He ignored her rebuff and sat on the opposite side from where Emma and Lily still slept. Letting the savory aroma waft under her nose, he dipped the wooden spoon into the bowl and held it to her closed mouth.
Her nose twitched and she swallowed despite her ire. “I can feed myself."
"Ah, but would you give me any?” He passed the spoon back and forth between them, though more often to her. The contents of the bowl vanished. “I have a gift for you."
Her expression was an endearing blend of annoyance and curiosity as he took rose-blushed crabapples from his pouch. “I found m
eshemeenake hidden under the leaves. Cold makes them good.” He lifted the seductive fruit to her mouth.
She succumbed to his enticement and took a bite, then another and another. He wiped at the juice running down her chin, relieved to see her eating so well and looking refreshed from her sleep. “Is it sweet?” he asked.
She bit again and swallowed. “Very."
"Like you."
Her eyes lit up. “Not like me. I'm far too vexed."
"Why is this?” he asked in mock innocence.
"You know very well. I'll not have some shameless girl and her bad-tempered father making demands on my husband."
He almost smiled at her vehemence.
"The very notion of taking more than one wife is perfectly heathen."
"My people have been called this."
"For good reason. If you ever take another wife, I'll—"
"What?” he challenged, both fascinated and entertained.
"Slit her throat."
Low whistles escaped their appreciative listeners.
Wicomechee surveyed her in amazement. “You? My gentle Red Bird who says her God desires mercy?"
"I'll not be asking His permission."
He secretly gloried in Charity's vehemence. “Ah. I must hide her from you."
She hurled the apple core at him. “You're so provoking!"
He chuckled amid surrounding laughter. “Come, then. Show me one wife is enough."
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not until you promise never to take another."
"No?"
"Absolutely not."
As enjoyable as this was he couldn't tolerate such defiance. He firmed his tone. “Come with me, Niwah."
If she'd had the ears of a horse, she would have flattened them against her head.
"You refuse your husband?"
"Until I have his vow."
Waupee hooted. “That's the way. Stand up to him, gal."
She'd have difficulty standing up to anything if she were swept off her feet, and loosed a squeal as Wicomechee sprang up, scooping her with him.
"Put me back down!” She pushed against his chest.
He caught her wrists in his hand. “You're my wife and—"
"I'll not be one of your wives."
Waupee threw back his head. “She's got you there."
Emma sat up sleepily. “What in the world is going on?"
"They're having a bit of a disagreement,” Waupee said.
Charity appealed to him. “Make Mechee let me go."
"And spoil all the fun?"
Charity tried Posetha next. “Help me."
Smiling, he also declined. And Weshe didn't bother to bark. Apparently, he also thought it a good joke.
James came to her defense in between bites of his squirrel. “Don't hurt her none, Wicomechee."
He grabbed up their blankets. “Do not fear, little one. Red Bird and I will speak."
Waupee chuckled. “Certainly. Speak all you like."
"Mechee, so help me—"
"Shhhh...” Enough fuss over nothing.
The stars spilled silvery light through the stand of pale-barked sycamores as he bore Charity away from their amused onlookers toward the outline of a tall hemlock.
She balked. “I'm not going under that tree with you."
He countered by thrusting her beneath its boughs on a blanket. She rolled over and sat up. He caught her as she scrambled and gently, but firmly forced her onto her back. She displayed a great deal of vigor for one so recently exhausted. “Must I hold you down?” he asked, and pulled the other blanket over them like a cocoon.
"Not fair, Mechee."
"Why is this?” He pinned both arms over her head with one hand, while untying her cloak with his other.
"You think to have me whenever you please."
He bent over her, swollen with need. “I have not had you for days."
"I'm injured."
"If you have strength to battle me, you have strength for love."
"That doesn't give you the right to me now."
"Has not your husband this right?"
He strayed to her bodice, unlacing the front, and slipped his hand inside beneath her shift. Hunger pulsed through him as he cupped her cold round breasts. Her nipples firmed and goosebumps ran over her, but she seemed bent on resisting him.
"Do you care nothing for my anger?"
"Your anger is without cause.” He buried his lips in her perfect neck, pressing them over her chilled skin. A gasp accompanied the tremor he felt running through her.
"Then give me your promise,” she demanded.
He nibbled the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder. “What promise is this?"
"Oh! You're the most—"
He silenced her protesting lips with his mouth, eliciting more shivers and not just from the chill. Exasperation alone wasn't sufficient to repress her desire and she returned the heated pressure on her mouth. Lightly at first, like clouds whispering across the moon, then with the force of a shooting star, she leaned upward and drew his mouth to hers. Violent need pulsed though him and left him breathing like a runner.
With great exertion, she broke away. “Enough."
He hadn't begun to have enough. “Do you surrender?"
"I shouldn't."
"Shouldn't?” Still restraining her arms, he lowered his head and pressed his lips over her breasts, closing his mouth around a taut nipple.
He sensed her trying to calm her panting breath and lie unresponsive as he teased her breasts in slow suckles, but she gasped and arched into his mouth.
"You must refuse me with less desire,” he whispered, and freed her wrists.
She encircled her arms around his neck. “You make it very difficult."
"Unless I take a second wife."
She nearly convulsed beneath him. “Mechee—"
"How can you think I would do this?"
"You had a wife before me, a woman you loved very much."
"Yes. One wife,” he emphasized.
"I fear some circumstance may force you to wed another."
"No one can force me to do this,” he assured her.
"No matter what?"
"No matter what. Few warriors have more than one. You are enough for any man."
"Even if Nialinwe's father threatens to beat you?"
"I will take the beating, not the daughter."
"If he does beat you, Mechee, I'll throw myself on you."
He chuckled. “I prefer you to do this now."
Fear engulfed Charity, as impenetrable as the blackest night. Soldiers—nameless, faceless men—grasped her and tore her away from Wicomechee. Helpless against the masculine tide, she reached out, sobbing his name.
Wicomechee leveled his musket. But there were too many for him to fight. Long barrels pointed at him. More terrible than fiery demons, an explosion ripped into his chest, hurtling him onto the grass beside a large stone. “God! No!"
Gentle arms shook her. “Wake, Red Bird. You dream."
Heart bursting inside her chest, she opened her eyes. Stars glittered through breaks in the evergreen boughs. No army threatened them. Yet.
"Calm down, sweet one. I am here."
She panted out, “Don't let the soldiers take me away."
He enfolded her in his muscular warmth. “I will not."
The horrific image of him falling to the ground filled her mind. “You can't fight an army. You'll be killed."
"No man can. If they come, I will hide you."
A warning tolled in her head like a church bell. “What if you can't? We mustn't return to the village."
"Where would you have us go?” he asked gently.
"Nowhere. Remain here."
"These mountains are harsh in winter. We do not know for certain what this Colonel Bouquet will do."
"I do. My dream told me."
He sighed and ran his fingers over her hair. “Men have taken you from me. I have no surprise you dreamed this."
"
But it was so real. You must listen to me."
"I hear you. But another voice calls, my grandfather, Eyes of the Wolf. We must go to him."
"Oh, Mechee, I'm so afraid—of living with Shawnee, of being taken away by the English."
"Both? There is much you fear."
"I just want a safe place where we can be together."
"My grandfather, Nimesoomtha, will know what to do. Eyes of the Wolf has the sight. More than your warnings."
"He can see into the future?"
"Yes. Manito, or God if you wish this name, gave him this way of knowing."
She listened in wonder. “The gift of prophecy."
"Perhaps, I know not. Before I left the village, Nimesoomtha told me I would find great treasure."
"What could he mean? Settlers have little of value."
"It is you he spoke of, Red Bird. For you I would give my life. Is there greater treasure than this?"
"Nothing. Did he say more to you?"
"Never does he speak more than we need know."
"I need to know more."
"Believe in him as I do. We cannot refuse his call."
Urgency welled in Charity to cling to Wicomechee, to savor their time together. “Love me, Wyshetche. Make me forget my fears and think only of you."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Seventeen
Four days later
Wicomechee sniffed the acrid scent of burning wood. Smoke curling from behind the trees snaked up into the blue sky. He was out in front today and stopped. The whole party halted along the trail. The horses snorted, pawing the earth.
Charity craned her neck to see beyond him. “A campfire?"
He shook his head and held a finger to his lips. “Something far larger,” he whispered. “Stay here."
Leaving her, he stole into the trees. As expected, Waupee soon appeared at his side and they slipped through the lichen-encrusted trunks. Muga and Posetha would guard the women, children, and horses, ready in an instant if needed.
A twig snapping behind them alerted Wicomechee to Charity's presence. He saw that Waupee also knew she had disobeyed and followed. But to turn and rebuke her might alert whoever was ahead. Would she never learn?
Annoyed, he continued his silent approach and beheld the smoldering remains of a cabin, the first he'd seen since his final sight of her guardian's log home. Charity would think of this and be saddened. He did not wish this on her. He and Waupee exchanged glances then crept nearer the smoking ruin.
