by Janet Cooper
"After we finish our chores, we'll load the wagon and depart early on the morrow," Benjamin told her.
Sarah frowned. Now, that she had agreed to forego her apprehension, the image of raven's eyes burned her soul. She could hardly wait to depart and hoped today would speed by. One thought jarred her… would she still be in this century tomorrow?
CHAPTER THREE
Sarah spent the entire morning working inside the inn. While she worked, her thoughts continually returned to Luke Keenan. What a mysterious man he was, unlike anyone that she had ever met. He puzzled yet challenged her, and she longed to solve the enigma of who and what he was. If only all the chores could be wished away. She and Benjamin would leave, and she could start to unravel the mysterious Lenape. The only other glitch to her plans occurred when her logical mind questioned her leaving the only know link to the future. Sarah kept pushing these thoughts aside.
Since her wish about the work vanishing failed, she labored on and completed her major tasks just in time to prepare lunch for Benjamin, Daniel and herself. After she had cleaned up the kitchen, again, she felt confident that the time had come for them to load the wagon. Benjamin, however, had other ideas.
"Daughter, the herbs must be pulled before the frost gets to them."
Wearily, she grabbed a basket and headed out to the garden. Sarah stared at the neat rows of herbs with disbelief. By the time I finish harvesting the entire field, all I'll want to do is take a nap! Then thoughts of Luke sprang to mind. Well, perhaps not. She smiled to herself.
She surveyed the herbs and sighed as she recognized another problem, some of them she could identify, but others left her clueless. Their smells might help, she thought. Otherwise, I'll be preparing some very strange dishes, if I’m still around.
* * * *
Sarah scarcely remembered going to bed. Her whole body ached and she barely stripped down to her gown before falling on the bed.
A loud knock resonated in her room, jarring her out of a very sound sleep. “Thou must arise for we have chores to do before we leave this morning,” Benjamin called through the closed door.
“Chores? I thought since we were leaving early, we would forget about those?”
“Sarah, we have an Inn to run. Daniel cannot cook. Thou must prepare food for any guests that chance to stop by. When everything is completed, we will leave.” His voice brooked no further questions.
She groaned as she rolled out of bed. The only good thing about getting up was later she would see the handsome Lenape brave. A negative thought invaded her mind and pushed all other aside. While had she not returned to her own century? Could she ever go back?
* * * *
As they drove, the bite in the air cooled Sarah's face, but the excitement she experienced at traveling along an 18th Century road headed for a Lenape farm and a certain good-looking guy far outweighed the chill. She tried to take in all she observed as they drove slowly by. The path and the shrubs that line the trail reminded her of the small, unpaved lanes that still dotted Chester County. Occasionally, she glimpsed a farmhouse or saw a newly harvested field. In many ways the area had not changed in two hundred years, and Sarah felt quite at home.
As she and Benjamin drove over the rise and approached the yard at Long Meadow Plantation, Sarah could see a small crowd standing near a burned out structure, in the center of the group stood Luke. Her heart pounded harder. He appeared to be directing all those around him. She forced herself to take in the scene. Nearby a small boy was leading a horse away. Several other braves nodded before taking their leave. The last to turn away was an old man. He headed toward the house. Still no one appeared to notice them. Sarah wondered at their strange behavior. When they were less than a thousand feet away, Luke acknowledged their presence by facing them.
"We will empty our load and start back," Benjamin said to Sarah as they drew closer. "I wish to return home this evening."
"But it will be full dark before we get to the inn," Sarah replied, wanting to spend a little time with Luke Keenan. "A British patrol might be out."
"We will be quite safe. The English know the Quakers have not taken sides in this war. "
Sarah looked at him in a questioning manner.
"Although we may not attend Meeting, we continue to follow the ways of our ancestors," he responded.
Sarah could not believe how naive he was. She considered challenging his comment, but remembered his reaction to her welding a poker for protection. He truly believed his words. She sincerely hoped God wasn't busy elsewhere when they rode back.
Turning her attention from Benjamin to another puzzling man, Sarah watched and observed the tall, dark Lenape. He made no move to approach them, nor did his face show any recognition. He appeared to wait for them to come to him. Such arrogance!
When Benjamin stopped the wagon a few feet from where Luke stood, the Lenape strode over. While Luke stared at the wagon filled with corn, Sarah let her eyes feast on him. He was nothing like the man she had seen last night at the inn, even his hair style had changed. If she were a Quaker lass from the 18th century, his clothing, or lack thereof, might have embarrassed her. Since she had no such inhibition, she enjoyed viewing his bare chest. Although Sarah sensed Benjamin's eyes on her, she refused to look in his direction, fearing the old gentleman would condemn her forthright manner. Instead, she continued to survey Luke Keenan.
He wore moccasins and a breechcloth held in place with a deerskin belt. Her gaze traveled down the length of his body. The strong muscles of his legs and especially of his upper thighs caught and held her attention. Above his slender waist, no clothing concealed his well-defined assets. His broad shoulders and smooth biceps proclaimed his masculinity and heightened his appeal. Black marks scarred his strong face, but in no way deterred from his good looks. Enjoying her perusal, she noted that his compelling, secretive eyes were still as she remembered them. He looked at her.
Having been caught examining him, she tried to cover her less than proper scrutiny by saying, "We heard what happened. Since we have extra provisions, father wanted to share our bounty with thee." Although she tried, her attention returned to his head. Instead of the thick, black mane of hair, only a small, scalp lock remained. The new style suited him, yet she wondered, why had he cut and shaved his head?
"We will pay," Luke said, his eyes hard.
"Nay," Benjamin replied. "In times of need, Friends give."
"I am not a member of your society," Luke countered.
"Thou and thy people are children of God."
"Even if we call God, Kitanitowet?"
"Names mean nothing to God," Benjamin responded. "Only our acts."
Luke hesitated. He looked from Benjamin to Sarah, then to the wagonload of corn. After a moment of hesitation, he said, "I accept your gift for my people. I am in your debt. If you need me or any Lenape, simply ask and we will fulfill your request."
"That is not necessary," Benjamin said, as Sarah climbed down off the seat.
"For my people and myself it is." He signaled to three young lads who had drawn near. "Unload the cart and take care of the horses." The boys led the wagon near the fenced-in meadow and began working.
A same white-haired Lenape that Sarah had seen earlier approached. The deerskin jacket and matching leggings almost matched the color of his complexion. His face announced his kinship with Luke, only their ages and Luke's lighter skin differed.
"XhanXhan," Luke said, "may I present Benjamin Stone and his daughter Sarah? I broke my journey at their tavern last evening."
The older man's pitch black eyes closed momentarily as if acknowledging them. Age lines crossed his chestnut colored face, enhancing his regal status.
"Benjamin Stone, Sarah Stone," Luke continued, "White Owl, my grandfather. They have brought a gift, XhanXhan." He motioned toward the wagon.
"We appreciate your generosity and your coming," White Owl said. "Will you join our feast and stay the night?"
Before Benjamin could answer and p
ossibly refuse, Sarah said, "We will be honored."
White Owl glanced at her and then looked to her father for confirmation.
Benjamin smiled. "As my daughter has said, we are pleased to accept thy generosity."
"Silver Wolf will act as your host. He will explain our ceremony."
Wolf gritted his teeth. He did not want any whites watching their funeral rites. Too often, he had heard their laughter and experienced the contempt in their voices when they observed his people and their rituals. So far, Sarah had not shown such disrespect, but the idea that she might tore at him. He would rather she left and he remembered her as he had seen her two nights before.
When Luke failed to respond, Sarah said, "Doeth thou mind?"
He glanced at White Owl, his jaw stiff and unyielding. A moment later, he said, "What my grandfather asks of me, I will do."
She would probably never have another opportunity to see and participate in an authentic Lenape burial ceremony. Despite Benjamin's disapproval, Sarah refused to allow him to spoil her day. With great interest she observed the comings and goings of the people.
White Owl walked closer to the stone mound. Traces of burnt wood and the heavy smell of a recent fire pitted the freshly raked ground and scarred the air. Half-buried boulders formed the skeleton of a barn. In the center, a stone pyramid rose. A freshly cut tree lay on the ground directly in front, appearing to protect the site.
Sarah and Benjamin edged closer. She glanced at Luke, hoping for an explanation.
"My father was murdered here."
The quiet way he spoke the words shocked her. His impassive face showed no emotion. "I am sorry," she said.
"Thou has our prayers," Benjamin added, solemnly.
"Thank you," said White Owl.
"The British soldiers?" Sarah asked.
"Yes. One of Cornwallis' patrols."
"I am not surprised. He is known for his cruelty."
Everyone stared at her.
Oops, she thought. His cut-throat reputation didn't really develop until the Southern Campaign--several years in the future. "I…I have heard tales."
The curious looks remained focused on her.
She flushed, unable to think of any way to dig herself out of her mistake.
"Would you feel the same if colonists had done this?" Luke asked.
Happy to get her foot out of the swamp her loose lips had dug for her, she said, "Yes. Senseless actions are reprehensible regardless of who is responsible."
"My daughter is right," Benjamin said. "All violence is appalling."
White Owl nodded then turned toward the pyramid. "Silver Wolf, I see you have selected an oak. You chose well," White Owl said, his gaze never straying from the grave.
"I am pleased that you approve." Luke glanced at Sarah, then Benjamin. "Beginning tomorrow, I will strip the bark and begin carving the deeds of my father on the pole."
A small boy careened into Luke's legs. His actions reminded Sarah of her neighbor's boy and her real life. When would she see her friends again? A small lump filled her throat.
"NoX han," the lad said.
Luke took the child's hand. "We have guests. You must speak English."
The child frowned.
"May I present my son, Little Turtle?" Luke made the introductions.
Her heart dropped as disappointment overwhelmed her. "And thy wife?" she asked, almost fearing the answer.
He glanced at the heavens. "With the stars."
"I am sorry." How terrible to have lost a wife and a father, she thought.
"It was a long time ago." Luke said, in the expressionless tone he used so often.
Luke fit her image of the stoic Indian. Did he ever relax and let his emotions show? she wondered. Had his marriage been a political one? Did the Lenape do that? Or had he married for love?
She glanced at White Owl and saw tears running down his face. The old man made no effort to wipe them away, yet Luke's eyes remained dry. If his grandfather showed his emotion, why didn't Luke?
"NoX han, father?" Little Turtle asked. His small face scrunched up with worry.
"Yes, my son?" Luke replied solemnly.
"Why is KitanitohunX'han crying?"
Hunkering down, Luke took his son's hands and looked directly into the boy's rich, bark-colored eyes. "As you know, your grandfather was murdered by soldiers and is buried beneath these stones. Great-grandfather is showing his grief. Lenape men may show their emotion."
Tears formed and trickled down the child's face. He threw his slender arms around his father's neck and sobbed. Luke lifted Little Turtle and held him securely in his arms.
Sarah wondered if seeing his great-grandfather cry and hearing his father's words may have given the boy permission to release the emotions building inside. To her, the boy sounded as if a huge dam of emotion had ruptured.
The compassion and love Luke showed to his son contrasted sharply with the impassive face Sarah had previously seen and come to expect from this Lenape.
Luke rubbed the lad's back in a gentle, calming fashion, turning away slightly from the burial mound. "XhanXhan's heart will soon begin its journey to the sky. In less than half a moon cycle, it will soar to the heavens." Luke pointed to the sky where, as yet, no stars shone. Little Turtle glanced up. "On clear nights, you will see him shining above us. Then he will help to light our way at night and will keep us safe."
The story Luke told pleased Sarah. Thoughts of her parents’ death and Sarah's fear of never seeing them again resurfaced. How much more comforting to look into the dark heavens and see a loved one lighting up the night sky. She wished someone had narrated a similar tale to her as a child.
While he spoke, Luke had looked at Sarah. Had she imagined it, or had he silently called out to her? Did he long to have someone to share his grief, to help him, to comfort him? She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him against her breast. Instead, she sent her prayers. Again, a mask covered his face. Sarah chided herself for conjuring such a fantasy.
Silver Wolf had stared at her. He sensed her compassion, her desire to help. Why should she understand? He closed his eyes and recalled his wife's image, asking her to help him with their son. Even as he did, he realized that when Clear Water was alive, she would never have thought he needed her support.
Between his sobs, Little Turtle asked, "Why is grandfather buried here and not in the graveyard with my mother?"
His great-grandfather took the boy in his arms. "The blood of his body has been spilled here. He will remain with it."
Wolf looked at the last two members of his family, the oldest and the youngest. The line was incomplete. It had been broken, and so had their hearts. He wanted to hold his remaining family tight against him, but with the whites looking on, he restrained himself. Only retribution, paid in blood by those responsible, would salve this grief.
"The British have always been our enemies." White Owl spat out the words as he lowered Little Turtle. "They have oppressed us consistently, stolen our lands, and killed many of our people." Bitterness showed as his ebony eyes flashed with anger and his jaw tightened. "Now, they have murdered the last of my children. Only vengeance will bring peace to our land."
"And I shall be your instrument," Wolf said.
Although he tried to hide his disapproval, Sarah sensed Benjamin tensing beside her. Would he speak out? She studied him closely. His lips remained closed, but he stepped back as if to distance himself from the violence being planned.
White Owl wrenched the fringe off his buckskin jacket and screamed aloud. Next, he bent, picking up a piece of charcoal and began streaking his face. When he had finished, he began to paint the boy. "The mask I place on you is to show the sorrow that we experience at the death of one we love, but whose name we do not speak."
Wolf found a charred chunk of wood and proceeded to recover the boy’s neck and arms.
"We will wear black on our skin while we grieve. In less than half a moon cycle, Little Turtle, your XhanXhan becomes on
e with the lights in the sky. Although we will no longer mark our bodies, our souls wear black until he can be avenged."
All during this time, Sarah had stood off to the side. Perhaps in their grief, Luke and White Owl had forgotten their guests, until she saw Luke's face and realized he wanted her to witness what was happening. Earlier, she had sensed his reluctance, yet now his willingness to allow her to observe his rituals pleased her. He was a very difficult man to understand. She looked at the fresh black imprint on his face, and realized what she had thought earlier was dirt was a sign of mourning.
White Owl faced Luke. "Did you give each of our people a gift of remembrance?"
"I chose to wait until you returned," he replied.
The older man nodded. "We will dispense them at the feast.” Turning toward Benjamin and Sarah, he added, "If you will excuse me, I must prepare for our ceremony."
"Of course," Sarah said.
Benjamin nodded.
The old Lenape walked away.
"If thou will show me where I am staying," Benjamin said, "I should like to wash up before eating."
"Little Turtle, will you take the Stones to their rooms?" Luke asked. "While you are there, please ask Bowl-Woman to help you change."
"I can do that myself," the child said, in a very proud voice.
"Yes, you can, but she will help."
"Might I stay here?" Sarah replied. Luke looked at her. "Unless thou prefers otherwise," she continued quietly.
"It matters not to me," Luke said. Turning to his son, he said, "Please take Mr. Stone. Please ask Bowl-Woman for a shirt for me and have her bring the gifts." He leaned closer and whispered to his son.
The boy frowned at Sarah then nodded to his father.
As Benjamin and Little Turtle walked away, Sarah thought, For some reason, that child doesn't like me. How strange. Usually, I get along well with kids, especially boys. She shrugged.
"Is anything wrong?" Luke asked.
"No." She pushed her concern aside, but couldn't resist asking, "Why did thou shave thy head?"
