by Beth Trissel
Charity watched like hunted prey as Rob nodded at Emma, and slid into the spot Wicomechee had left empty. He exuded a passionate intensity she didn't feel equal to.
"It's been ages since I last saw you, Charity. I feared for your life."
"I'm sorry you suffered. Our party fell behind, took us days to catch back up."
His eyes drank her in. “What's wrong? Are you ill?"
She touched her forehead. “I was injured here,” she said, hoping this would content him. “I suffer weakness."
"That explains your arrival in Wicomechee's arms."
"He cares well for me."
Rob's mouth tightened. “I'd hardly expect him to leave his wife lying along a trail. I suppose you are by now?"
She looked away from his displeasure as though from a striking snake, and watched the misting rain. “Yes."
"Have you utterly forgotten who he is, what he is?"
"When Mechee holds me, I think only of his love."
"I could do the same if I had the chance,” Rob argued.
"It's not that simple. I can't just forget one husband and take another."
"In time I could persuade you to think differently."
"Mechee's not going to let you try."
"He can hardly oppose an army."
She almost choked at his blatant threat. “You don't know for certain that Colonel Bouquet will prevail."
"I'll bet he already has."
"Enough, Rob. I'll not have you upsetting her,” Emma scolded. “You aren't even supposed to be together anyway."
Charity eyed her usually mild cousin in surprise.
Even Rob seemed impressed by Emma's newfound authority. “Bold words for you, Ma'am."
"I shall be bolder still if you don't behave."
A faint smile eased the tension at his mouth. “I shall be a perfect gentleman. Pray continue with your meal."
"Charity can't possibly eat with you staring at her."
He raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and averted his head. “Thank you, sir,” Emma said with chilly formality.
Charity forced down a small portion then set the bowl aside. “I'll finish it later, Emma."
"That's not enough to keep Lily going, let alone you."
"I'll be fortunate to keep this down.” Trying to ignore Rob, she wrapped in her blanket and lay down, but, like a disturbed spirit, there was no escaping his brooding presence.
He bent over her. “You're truly ill. From your injury?"
She was loath to answer. “Not only that."
Anger radiated from him. “Never mind. I can guess what ails you. Wicomechee's gotten you with child, hasn't he?"
She kept her eyes from his recrimination but made no denial.
"Works fast. The bastard."
She sucked in her breath as if Rob had driven his fist into her stomach, too breathless to immediately reply.
Not Emma. “I understand you're upset, but to speak so. ‘Tisn't fit language for Christians."
"Let me remind you good Christians that this marriage isn't valid."
Charity got out, “In the eyes of God, it is."
"Perhaps. I'll not speak for the Almighty."
"Humble of you, I'm sure,” Emma said.
Rob ignored her sarcasm. “Their union has no validity in the eyes of the civilized world."
Emma cut him short. “We've heard more than enough."
"Not quite. The child she carries is a bastard as well."
At that rude utterance the tiny life within Charity took on a great deal more significance than she'd previously accorded it. Pushing up on one elbow, she stared Rob in his baleful eyes. “Don't you dare call my baby that horrid name!"
"Can't take the truth?"
"Whose truth?” Posetha demanded. “Not Shawnee truth."
Charity hadn't noticed him rise from the circle of warriors nearest them until he stood glaring down at Rob.
"Stay away from the wife of Wicomechee, Rob Buchanan."
Rob set his jaw in sullen lines as he eyed Posetha. “You wish more punishment?” the warrior invited.
"Please, Rob, do as he says,” Charity pleaded.
"Fine.” He scooted a short distance away.
Posetha touched her shoulder. “His words cannot harm you."
"'Tisn't only his words I fear."
"Have courage. I am near if you have need of me."
Through her blurred vision she watched Posetha return to his appreciative listeners and the tales he was regaling them with. Seeing Posetha distracted, the dogged young man inched his way nearer to her. “Rob, you mustn't,” she entreated him.
"Will you summon your guard dog or let me speak?"
"Careful, Rob,” Emma warned. “You will have Posetha back over here in a flash."
Rob regarded Charity with fierce yearning in his gaze. “I think of you all the time. Your face is always in my mind. I'll not give up until you're my wife."
"You still want me, knowing I carry Mechee's child?"
"This delicate state didn't deter a certain Englishman from taking the wife of another. Did it, Mrs. Estell?"
"That was entirely different,” Emma argued.
"How?"
She eyed him coldly. “I don't owe you an explanation."
"Afraid it won't hold up?"
"Who made you judge over us?"
"Your mother would gladly appoint me to make the pair of you see sense."
Emma thrust the sleeping baby at Charity and drew herself up like an enraged dog. “I am a grown woman. You'll not tell me what Mama would want.” Swinging her hand, she slapped Rob across the face with a resounding smack.
Charity's jaw dropped.
He fingered his reddened cheek in amazement. “We've known each other since childhood. You never struck anyone."
"About time I did, you pompous, overbearing—bastard!"
Charity sputtered, “Emma. You never ever swear."
"No, she does not,” Wicomechee agreed from the mist.
Colin took shape and dodged the stone ceiling. “Someone must have been extremely provoking."
Posetha pointed an accusing finger at Rob. “Outhowwa's captive distressed the wife of Wicomechee."
Wicomechee stalked just behind his brother.
"You did leave Emma in charge, did you not, NiSawsawh?” Waupee asked, a hard edge to his flippant remark.
The despised Long Knife must have a death wish. One he would gladly oblige. He was aware of Charity's stricken face, but stopped before Rob and fixed on him with the intensity of a panther ready to spring. “We will speak."
The Long Knife stood warily.
Waupee stayed Wicomechee's arm with his hand. “One moment, Emma called him out first. Will you fight him, darling, or shall I?"
Mary Elizabeth wailed. “Please be serious.” Emma lifted the baby and slipped a hand beneath her blanket to her bodice.
"Quite right, most awkward to fight while nursing an infant. Wouldn't you agree, Rob?” Waupee asked, that steel in his voice still underlying his light manner.
Rob shifted his eyes between them. “Who does that leave me to deal with Dickson, you or Wicomechee?"
"Both. You insulted both of us, did you not?” Wicomechee flung back.
The cocky Long Knife didn't even attempt an apology.
Emma nestled the infant beneath her wrap. “I'd rather fight him myself than see the two of you tear into him."
"With a baby at your breast?” Waupee inquired coolly. “Come along Rob, the three of us will have a little talk."
"Wait, Mechee, big brother."
Charity would interfere. She got shakily to her feet then staggered and clasped a hand to her head. “I feel so giddy.” With a moan, she swayed, sagging toward Rob.
Wicomechee looked on in outraged disbelief as Rob caught Charity and lifted her in his arms. “Poor girl."
Fire inflamed him. “Take your hands from my wife."
"Hold on, Wicomechee. She's swooned."
"Th
is is your doing."
"Mine? I'm not the one who got her with child."
Only the dread he felt for Charity kept him from felling the Long Knife where he stood. “You cause her distress she has not the strength to bear. Can you not see her weakness?"
The indignation in Rob's eyes lessened and concern took its place. “Is it the child alone? She spoke of an injury."
Charity lay unmoving as Wicomechee took her from him and hugged his precious burden. “The injury almost claimed her life. Now she is ill with my child. I fear for her,” he admitted. “The journey is too hard."
Rob's solemn gaze followed Charity. “I didn't realize. She was always so strong, so fast."
The reminder pierced Wicomechee. “No more. She needs food, rest. Why can you not stay from her?"
"I've loved Charity for so long. And just when her guardian agreed to our marriage, you stole her away."
"She never wanted you, Rob Buchanan. When I first took her captive she told me she feared to wed you."
"I could have gotten her past that and won her love. I still could,” Rob said, longing in his face and voice.
"Can a heart be taken, like a horse? Even horses remember their masters. A man cannot force a woman's heart as he can her body."
"I know that,” Rob conceded. “All I'm saying is I could win Charity's love if I had the chance."
"Her heart is mine. She seeks my love in return. Not yours. When she wakes with fear, she holds to me, not to you. Her tears wet my shirt, not yours. When she is glad I hear her laughter. For me she sings.” Wicomechee smoothed her chilled cheek. “If this English colonel aids you in taking her from me, she will fly from you in death."
Horror touched his eyes. “Death? Surely not."
"She has done this once,” Posetha said. “When Wicomechee called to her, she returned to him."
Rob stared at him. “You mean to say Charity was dying and he summoned her back?"
"Already her spirit was lifting into the night sky."
Rob gave a low whistle. “I don't know what to say."
"How about, forgive me, Wicomechee. I've made an ass of myself?” Waupee said. “Include a promise never to trouble Charity again. Then maybe, just maybe, he will let you live."
Rob heaved a sigh and the knowledge that he had lost her forever shaped his expression. “I couldn't bear to cause her such grief I endangered her life. I give you my word, Wicomechee. I will trouble Charity no more."
"It is good you speak this, for I will not allow you to."
"Take good care of her, as I swear I would have done. And now, if you no longer wish to strike me down, I will return to Outhowwa's campfire."
"Hold on a minute, Buchanan,” Waupee summoned. “Your insult to my lady, and consequently to me, still remains."
"I apologize for my poor behavior, Emma. Please forgive me,” Rob said with far more humility than he had before.
"I already have."
"You are fortunate to find her so forbearing, else I would be honor bound to demand satisfaction,” Waupee said.
"I'm as grateful as a miserable wretch can be, sir."
"Oh, go on. Take that long face back to Outhowwa."
"That'll cheer me up no end,” Rob muttered, his voice trailing off with his muffled tread.
Waupee nudged Charity's arm. “You can come to now, little sister. He's gone."
She opened her eyes. “How did you know I was faking?"
Waupee smiled. “The way you angled that swoon toward Rob. You're quite the actress."
She looked up at Wicomechee. “Did you also know?"
He gently reproached her. “Yes. Though not so soon as Waupee. I feared much for you."
"I'm sorry, but I couldn't have the pair of you lighting into Rob. Do you think he noticed?"
"No. You are too clever.” And weaker than Wicomechee cared to contemplate. She might have pretended that swoon, but it could easily have been real. It would take all his strength to preserve her.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Nineteen
Charity stared from atop Stuart at the dozens of bark-covered lodges spreading along the banks of the Scioto River. Smoke rising from the openings in their roofs drifted up into the cold blue sky. What she'd expected the village to be like she couldn't have said, but so many lodges overwhelmed her. “I'd no idea the village would be so big, like a city."
Emma's blond head nodded in front of her. “We've never been to an English city, let alone one filled with Indians."
Colin grinned. “This is one of the larger villages I'll grant you, but nowhere near the scale of Philadelphia. Just imagine how impressed you'd both be with London.” He reached his arms up to help them down. “Come on, ladies."
Emma clung to Mary Elizabeth with one hand and the big gelding with her other. “Wait. I feel safer up here."
"On Stuart?"
If she'd asserted her love of horses above all creatures, Colin couldn't have looked more surprised.
"He's become a faithful friend. I'd rather view the villagers from—” she shrank against Charity as a crowd in colorful blankets surged toward them. “Lord preserve us."
Wicomechee studied them in bemusement. “Do you also wish to remain on the horse, Red Bird?"
Charity was weary beyond words, but fear jarred her to wakefulness as she stared at the throng. “For a little."
"This is foolish."
Colin shrugged. “I see no need to pull them off yet."
"As any warrior could do if he intended them harm,” Wicomechee pointed out.
Any remaining argument went unspoken as the noisy tide of men, women, and children engulfed them. The two men were caught up in the welcoming swell and swept away.
"Colin! Wicomechee!” Emma called, apparently having reconsidered her impulsive request, but the preoccupied men were hailing friends and didn't seem to notice her.
"We'll be all right.” Charity felt anything other than the assurance she'd offered as warriors already returned from raids, and men too old for war, converged on the new arrivals. Sharp eyes swept the women on Stuart with an appreciative glint or with no apparent interest at all, but without malice. “I think none wish to harm us."
"Colin and Wicomechee are paying little mind if they did,” Emma said.
Despite her uneasiness, Charity was intrigued. “Look at the women."
Their shining eyes and expressive faces made a lively contrast to the more restrained warriors she'd journeyed with. The feminine welcome elicited smiles from the home comers. Long black hair flew as strong arms swung laughing women up into their embrace. Lustrous braids and cascading torrents adorned with ribbons and silver brooches made Charity feel plain by comparison, as did the clothing she glimpsed beneath their blankets. Colorful beads embellished solid-colored shirts or those made from bold checks and prints and a rainbow of ribbons decorated swirling skirts.
Children ran through the crowd, their excitement amicably born by the adults. Curious little boys inspected the women before resuming their high-spirited flight. “They remind me of James.” He bounded into view with Weshe, not the least bit intimidated. “How unafraid he seems, so unlike poor Lily."
"James knows he's to remain with us. I hate having to surrender Lily, and Colin feels wretched about it,” Emma said.
Charity had last seen Lily clinging to Muga who'd been given the sad task of transferring her to Wacuchathi. “What can we do? As captor, Wacuchathi has the right to adopt her."
"At least if his wife is eager for a girl to replace their lost daughter, they will treat her kindly,” Emma said.
"Look. Those must be Posetha's parents."
A pleasant-faced woman with Posetha's smile rushed up and wrapped her arms around him. Behind her, an older warrior approached with more dignity, his finely chiseled features reminiscent of Posetha's. He laid a hand on his shoulder.
Emma pointed through the crowd. “Look at your husband."
Charity's attention flashed to the cluster o
f females gathering around Wicomechee and Colin. One young beauty lifted her arms around Wicomechee's neck, her lips at his ear. He shook his head at her apparent invitation, gesturing toward Charity. Still, she held to him, her black eyes appraising Charity with resentment, a sentiment she heartily returned. “That's Nialinwe, I'll wager. Her boldness is beyond belief."
"Mama would have plenty to say about such unladylike behavior."
Centuries of Scottish temper melded with English determination fired Charity's blood. “I could say a great deal myself. If Mechee doesn't pry her off, I will."
"For pity's sake, you can't just jerk her away."
"She's not much bigger than I am."
"Calm yourself,” Emma attempted.
Calm was the last thing Charity felt. “Now she's weeping against him. I'm getting down."
"Don't dismount unaided. You could be injured. Think of the baby, dearest."
Charity had forgotten everything but wrenching Nialinwe from her husband. She hesitated and glanced around. A familiar figure caught her eye. “Chaka!” He turned, his dark brows arching inquisitively. “Will you help us down?"
Emma tensed. “Have you lost all reason?"
"He won't harm us."
Chaka left a young woman and two small children. He walked to them, limping slightly from the injury to his leg. A teasing smile hovered at his lips. “Where is your husband?"
"In the arms of another."
"Ah. What do you think to do?"
"Tear Nialinwe from him."
His smile broadened. “Nialinwe has the temper of—” he paused as though searching for the right word. “She-bear."
"There. You see. Have a bit of sense,” Emma pleaded.
Lips pressed together, Charity scrutinized the young woman shaking against Wicomechee and his effort to console her. “That girl can do her weeping elsewhere."
Chaka shrugged broad shoulders and lifted Charity from the horse, holding her an instant longer than necessary before setting her down. “Have care, pretty one."
Emma hugged Mary Elizabeth as Chaka lifted her to the ground. “Waupee is fortunate in such a wife,” he said.
Emma looked at him dazedly. “You wished my death."
"No more.” Leaving them, he rejoined the waiting woman. A shy smile lit her eyes as he closed his arms around her and slipped his fingers through long hair spilling to her knees.
