Wind Talker

by Kim Murphy

  With Tiffany still clinging to me like she was holding on for dear life, I struggled to my feet. After doing so, I helped Meg to hers.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Black Owl asked.

  “If you can go ahead to the homestead and have Christopher or James bring one of the horses, we could make better time.”

  “I’ll do it,” Swift Deer said.

  Any other time, I would have been amazed. He’d already run around eight miles and was ready to go another four, but he charged off without looking back. I encouraged Tiffany to walk under her own power, so that I could help Meg, but the girl remained stuck to me like glue. “She’s missed you,” Meg said, almost apologetically. “She’s never had a father.”

  An awkward silence descended between us. I gathered that she hadn’t meant to reveal the sentiment. I needn’t have worried about Meg, who was still a bit gimpy from her car accident, because Black Owl came to her aid, even though I hadn’t had a chance to translate the conversation.

  “Lee, I’m sorry I failed Phoebe.”

  “You didn’t fail her. If you had taken action, you would have most likely put yourself and Tiffany in danger. You’ll be able to help us after we get you back to the homestead and checked out by Elenor and Bess.”

  “Then you think they’ll be okay?”

  More than anything I wanted to respond in the affirmative, but the bloody images of murdered women and children filled my head. “I hope so,” I finally responded.

  Meg halted in her tracks with tears filling her eyes. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”

  “No, Meg. It’s not your fault. The truth is, I don’t know what’s happened to Phoebe and Heather. You were the last person to see them, so I need to get you to safety, where you can help us. I will do everything in my power to bring them back safe and sound. Do you understand? In the meantime, I have to believe they will be fine and I won’t rest until I know the truth. I have an excellent network, like my father here, who will help me, but we need your help too.”

  With renewed determination, she began walking again. I attempted to explain to Black Owl what had transpired. He nodded that he understood. After nearly a mile, Meg needed rest. Black Owl pointed to a spot under a shady oak, and Tiffany finally let go her stranglehold grip of me and scrambled to her mother.

  Meg looked up. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Both of you.” She broke down crying on her daughter’s shoulder.

  Tiffany touched Meg’s face. “Don’t cry, Mommy.”

  Meg brushed back her tears. “I feel like such a fool. I had asked Phoebe to come with her when she returned and now that I’m here...”

  How could I have forgotten? My worry about my own family must have clouded my thoughts. “Charging Bear is at the homestead.”

  “He is?” she asked, wiping away her remaining tears.

  “I know he’d like to meet you for real.” I offered my hand, and she rose to her feet once more.

  Black Owl glanced at me, wondering what I had said to restore Meg’s energy. When I told him, he gave a knowing smile. After we walked a few hundred feet, a chestnut horse trotted toward us with Christopher and Swift Deer on the gelding’s back. The horse came to a halt beside us, and the men dismounted. Without wasting time, I boosted Meg onto his back.

  “I don’t know anything about horses.”

  “You don’t need to,” I reassured her. “Christopher will lead, and we’ll make it back to the homestead faster.” I placed Tiffany on the saddle in front of her mother. Unlike the saddles I had seen growing up, this one had no horn and was flatter than an English riding saddle.

  Having recovered somewhat from the ordeal, the girl clasped the gelding’s mane and giggled about the prospect of horseback riding. As soon as they were settled, Christopher led the chestnut in the direction of the homestead. Meg gripped the saddle tightly and gulped for air.

  “Relax, Meg,” I said. “You’re not going to fall.”

  “Lee, thank you.”

  Afraid that she might burst into tears once more, I nodded, but this time her eyes stayed dry. Even though our gait was faster and steadier than before, the pace seemed like a crawl. Every minute that passed meant more time had elapsed since Phoebe’s arrival. Was each step taking me farther from her? We reached a stream and waded across. We continued on.

  Midday arrived by the time we reached the mass grave. There was no time to stop and mourn. We pressed on. Finally, the house came into view, and Christopher brought the horse to a halt out front. I helped Tiffany from the saddle, then turned to Meg. By the time her feet touched the ground, Charging Bear stood beside us. “Meg?”

  She nodded. “It’s me, Charging Bear.”

  He drew her into his arms. “And this must be Tiffany.”

  “We need to get them into the house and make certain they’re all right,” I said. “Meg may be able to help us find Phoebe and Heather.”

  Sensing my urgency, Charging Bear helped Meg to the house. By the time we reached the door, Bess appeared in the frame. “Bess,” Meg said, “Phoebe’s told me much about you.”

  Bess waved the way inside, and we helped Meg and Tiffany to one of the beds. Elenor greeted us. In spite of her grief, the cunning woman took over, and she began checking Meg and Tiffany for injuries. “If the rest of you would wait in the other room...”

  I escorted Charging Bear to the other room, and this time, he was the one pacing, waiting for word. “I can’t believe that she’s actually here. How did it happen?”

  There were still missing details, but I explained the circumstances to him as best as I could, then I looked to Black Owl and Swift Deer and thanked them. “We were glad to help, my son,” Black Owl said. “I know you’re still worried about your wife and daughter.”

  Just having my family near comforted me. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through when you lost my mother and thought I was gone too.”

  Black Owl placed a hand on my shoulder. “For a long while afterward, I let anger rule, but how is taking one innocent life for another justifiable? When I rid myself of vengeance, I went to live with the Sekakawon.” He lowered his arm. “I found love again and eventually, the son that I thought had died returned to me.”

  His message was clear. No matter what happened, I had to retain my composure enough to think rationally. “I trust if I falter in the days ahead, you will lend me guidance.”

  “I would be honored.”

  Elenor returned. “Beyond a few cuts and bruises, Meg and her daughter appear to have sustained no injuries. They’re weary from all they have endured and need rest.”

  I had no doubt Elenor was aware that her mother’s life could be at stake. With difficulty, I bowed to her wisdom. “How long before I can speak to her?”

  “Soon. Then she will tell you what she knows.”

  Those of us waiting inside the door went outside. Because the earlier events had been jumbled and hurried, we made the official round of introductions for those who hadn’t met before. The distraction helped me concentrate on something besides Phoebe and Heather. Even then, my thoughts wandered. The longer I sat there, the more restless I became. Finally, the door to the house opened.

  Supported by a wooden cane with silver flowers etched into an enamel head, Meg shuffled toward us. Bess lent her support. Charging Bear and I moved to meet her. “Let’s try to find Phoebe and Heather,” she said.

  * * *

  Over the next couple of days, we scoured woods. We showed Meg where she had been found. Excellent trackers, Charging Bear and Swift Deer backtracked several miles of forest where Meg and Tiffany had wandered. When Meg claimed nothing looked familiar, I wished I had Shae’s assistance. With the use of hypnosis, she might have been able to unlock Meg’s memory and find the location where Phoebe had been taken captive.

  Then, the trail vanished a short distance from the James River. Meg clenched her hands together. “I don’t know. I do remember seeing the river, but...”

  Remain calm.
I took a deep breath. “Take your time.” A gentle breeze stroked my face, and I envisioned the mist. “This is it. It’s where the time portal brought you through.”

  “That’s right. Three men surrounded her. I was too afraid to move. They must not have seen Tiffany or me. They focused on Phoebe and called Heather a savage. They threatened Phoebe, telling her to not try and make a run for it, then took them to the river.”

  Charging Bear quickly translated for Swift Deer, and they began searching for signs that Phoebe had been nearby. We followed a trail to the river. Near the bank, Swift Deer pointed to the ground. “Three men and one woman.”

  “They boarded a boat here,” Charging Bear added, showing where the vegetation was flattened where a boat had rested.

  I stared downriver. “Jamestown?” I asked.

  Christopher nodded. “Or a nearby plantation. ’Tis too late to continue the search today. We’ll begin anew on the morrow. We shall return to the homestead and collect a shallop.”

  I gazed at the sinking sun in the sky. Another day lost—but he was right. “We can bed down here tonight.” After a meal of corn pone that Elenor had packed for us, we settled in. I tossed and turned on the hard ground. At least, with the onset of spring, the earth wasn’t as cold as it had been during the winter. All the same I wrapped my mantle snugly around me.

  Even though exhaustion overwhelmed me, I struggled to reach Phoebe through the dreaming. The previous night, I had focused on the flame and drifted off to sleep. On this night, as darkness fell, an owl hooted. I longed for the day spirit of the crow. He would guide me, but as I envisioned the candle in my mind, the wind rattled tree branches. The mist captured me.

  A tunnel loomed before me with a weak light in the distance. A shadow appeared, and I moved toward it. As I got closer, I could see the shadow was a man. He wore breeches, a slash-sleeved doublet, and a plumed hat. A sword was on his left hip and a pistol on his right.

  I blinked. Henry? He appeared youthful. The same as when I had first viewed the dreaming through his eyes.

  “She seeks you, Wind Talker.”

  “Phoebe? Do you know where she is? I’ve been looking for her.”

  “She’s in jail. She’s to be tried as a witch.” He delivered his message and vanished.

  Not again. I closed my eyes and recalled what she had endured the first time—a strip search and being chained to a wall in a cell crawling with rats. Did they execute witches in Virginia? I had to find a way to help her escape. And what of Heather? Henry hadn’t mentioned her.

  * * *

  28

  Phoebe

  For the second time in her life, Phoebe was led into the courtroom. Unlike the time afore, Henry was absent. A row of justices attired in black sat behind a long table. In the middle sat the presiding judge, the same one who had ruled on her case afore. Though wrinkles in his countenance were deeper than she recalled, he retained an air of distinction.

  “Phoebe Wynne,” came the magistrate’s voice, “once again a jury of women hath searched your person and found webbed skin betwixt your fingers and toes. Do you deny their assessment?”

  “Nay,” she replied with her voice barely above a whisper.

  “And how do you stand afore us today untouched by the passage of fourteen years?”

  Time travel would definitely be considered an act of the devil. Her hands and legs trembled. “I don’t know.”

  The justices studied her skeptically, and a man in the courtroom stood and pointed. “Witch!”

  A loud murmur filled the room, and the magistrate banged his gavel. “I decree order!” The buzzing voices halted, and he continued, “Mistress Wynne, are we to believe the passage of time has remained still for you without your making a pact with the devil? After all, you bear his marks.”

  “I have made no pact with the devil.”

  Another round of voices mumbled throughout the courtroom. Once again, the magistrate banged the gavel, and the room quieted. “Let it be recorded on the twenty-eighth day of April in the year of our Lord 1644 that, by your own admission, you bear the marks of the devil, yet deny making any pacts with Satan. Once again, you stand afore the court accused with a sundry of acts of witchcraft and fornication. How do you plead?”

  “I am innocent.”

  A gasp echoed throughout the courtroom.

  “Mistress Wynne, the last time you were seen, you had been found guilty of fornication and consorting with the Indians. You escaped the gaol aft receiving twenty stripes, but afore you could be returned to England to complete your sentence. E’en aft marrying a law-abiding citizen of the Crown, one who was murdered by said savages, you continued to consort with them. You hath returned to James Towne with a child begotten by an Indian, not your lawful husband. Do you deny this?”

  The vision of Heather being wrenched from her arms engulfed her, and she barely kept the tears at bay. “Captain Wynne thought I had died, and he remarried. In turn, I married a Paspahegh warrior.”

  The magistrate sighed. “If such a union was not made in a Christian ceremony, then no marriage exists in the eyes of God. Once again, you hath admitted to fornication. As to the charges of witchcraft, I shall call witnesses, who knew you from the time afore, but e’en I can see you are unchanged by fourteen years. And your garments, did you receive them from the Indians?”

  “Nay, I found them when I was without.”

  “You stole them?”

  Stealing was regarded as a lesser offense than witchcraft. “Aye.”

  “Bring forth the witnesses.”

  Witnesses stepped forward agreeing that Phoebe had not aged. Some mentioned that she had practiced herbs, and that livestock had fallen ill, even though she had ne’er treated anyone in James Towne. The judges debated amongst themselves and afore long arrived at a decision.

  The magistrate pounded the gavel. “Phoebe Wynne, for the second time in this courtroom you hath freely admitted to fornicating with an Indian. You are found guilty on that charge. Howe’er, we find the more serious charge of witchcraft is in question. A trial by water shall be held. Sentencing shall be given aft the results of said trial are reached.”

  The gavel pounded once more.

  * * *

  Afore the trial by water, Phoebe had been given a shift and a simple woolen dress. The gaoler brought her to the bank of the river, where a crowd had gathered to watch. The same jury of women who had strip searched her waited along the edge.

  “Disrobe to your shift,” the matron ordered.

  Phoebe swallowed but lifted her dress over her head and dropped it to the ground. Only her shift covered her body.

  “The shoes and stockings as well.”

  Phoebe obeyed, and the women searched her to make certain she possessed naught to aid in an escape. She was escorted to a rowboat where four men waited.

  The matron gestured to the boat. “Get in.”

  After Phoebe stepped inside, two women tied her right thumb to her left big toe, and her left thumb to the big toe of her right foot. Whilst the men rowed, the crowd gawked and pointed fingers. The boat halted in the center of the river, and the men heaved, tossing Phoebe overboard. The crowd cheered.

  Phoebe held her breath and entered the cold water with a huge splash. Her arms and legs attempted to move in all directions, but due to the ropes, she was unable to rise to the surface and swim. She sank. Panic set in. She struggled, but the bonds refused to release their grip. She screamed, but the sound was lost amongst mute bubbles. Down she continued, and her limbs grew weary from attempting to paddle. Her lungs ached—and she surrendered.

  A calm washed over Phoebe. Shafts of sunlight wavered in the water. The reflection of the white hound stood near the surface. If only she could reach him, he would lead the way to refuge. Aside the hound stood a crow. Lee had heard her call. She imagined the crow lifting her upward.

  Once they were airborne, time had little meaning. Was she dead? She spotted the hound on the ground, racing toward a copse of trees. Unc
oncerned, she preferred rising into the sky with the crow. Against the gentle wind she flew. The breeze lifted her further, and she gasped and sputtered.

  Water surrounded her. The ropes no longer bound her, and rough hands pulled her from the watery grave. Phoebe lay on the bank, coughing up water.

  The magistrate loomed over her. “Phoebe Wynne, you hath floated. As a result, you hath failed the water test. You are found guilty of being a witch. As punishment, you shall be put to death by hanging.”

  Totally dazed from the ordeal, Phoebe failed to absorb the magistrate’s words. “Kesutanowas Wesin,” she responded.

  * * *

  29

  Wind Talker

  A tearing and burning sensation spread through my chest, and my arms attempted to climb an invisible ladder. Wind Talker. “They’re torturing her.”

  William placed a hand on my shoulder to calm me. “We’ll be there soon.”

  He was right, and I couldn’t allow anger to guide me. Others would pay the price if my actions weren’t calm and reasoned. With all of my experience I knew that—rationally—but this time Phoebe and Heather were involved. I must finish preparing for what was to come before going to them.

  After we returned to the homestead, Black Owl instructed us on how to build a small dome-shaped structure from willow saplings near a shallow stream running through the settlement. We covered the frame with woven mats like those used for building Appamattuck houses. Sweat houses existed in both of the towns I had visited, but they contrasted from the Lakota pictures I had seen growing up of larger lodges and animal hide coverings. And unlike the Lakota, the Appamattuck and Sekakawon entered their sweat houses naked.

  Black Owl had prepared the pit in the sweat house. Besides me, William and Christopher had never participated in a sweat before. William had surprised me with his ambition to accompany us because even when we bathed in a stream, he never removed his undergarments, and now when he stripped off his shirt, I understood his reason why. Like Phoebe, he bore the scars of the whip. Unlike Phoebe, the scars on William’s back crisscrossed in raised pink welts.