by Janet Cooper
Muttering a curse, she strode to the closed bar, lifted up the side arm, walked inside, and poured the ale into the pewter mug. Instead of taking the cup, the soldier grabbed her around the waist. Stupid. She chided herself for failing to drop and latch the grill when she walked behind the bar. He pulled her out of the enclosure and into a rough embrace. She pushed against his chest, trying to escape. His arm constricted her breathing. Her face pressed against his unwashed, repulsive body. He exhaled. The putrid smell of garlic, onions, and rotting teeth overwhelmed her.
Her stomach rebelled. Bile rose in her throat. With difficulty, she forced it down. "Let me go!" Sarah tried to shove him away.
He laughed. A dribble of spit escaped the side of his lip. "Never kissed a Quaker woman before." His eyes and his slobbering mouth spoke of a more terrifying prospect.
She slung the mug. The pewter cup connected with his head.
"Bitch!" he screamed.
She shoved him back. "And you're not going to!" she called as she turned and raced through the door.
"Father! Daniel!" Sarah screamed. Jumping down the steps, she sped across the yard.
Benjamin grasped her, herding her into his arms.
"Is thou all right?" Distress scored his face with lines. Quickly, he searched her from head to toe, his love and concern showing.
Sarah nodded. "Some roughneck soldier tried to kiss me!" And would have done that and more, she thought, but said, "I hit him with a pewter cup." She did not care if Benjamin approved or not. No man could place his hands on her without her permission.
A cow bellowed loudly, drawing Sarah's attention. "What is going on?" Glancing around the yard, she saw a British soldier leading the milk cows from the barn; another had a lead rope attached around the necks of the four goats; still a third had corralled a large sow.
"They are taking provisions," Benjamin whispered.
"We need them to feed ourselves and our guests," she retorted, becoming more and more worried.
"Calm down, daughter." He eased his hold on her.
"Thou cannot sell our livestock," she said, unable to understand his action.
"Who said they were buying?" Daniel replied with disgust. His arms hung at his sides, but his clenched fists proclaimed his anger and frustration. "They're stealing the animals for the army."
"Bloody hell, where is that bitch?" The burly soldier weaved out the door, nearly tripping on the second step. "When I get my hands on you... " He waved his fists in the air.
Daniel and Benjamin stepped in front of her. Sarah spied the wooden pitchfork lying against the well. After grabbing it, she squeezed between her two men, raised the fork and pointed the prongs outward.
"Why doeth thou hold the pitchfork in such a threatening way?" her father asked.
Gesturing with her head toward the burly corporal, she replied, "He is not getting near me again."
"I'm not a Quaker. I'll guard you," Daniel said in a disparaging tone aimed at Benjamin.
Sarah appreciated his offer for two against four were bad odds. She did not want to consider one against four.
Anger etched its mark on the corporal's face. He lumbered closer. Sarah tightened her hold on the handle.
"Take what thou and thy men have garnered and leave," Benjamin told the soldier.
"Oh, we'll take what we have," the redcoat said, "but not before I make a certain bitch pay for raising a lump on my head."
Sarah adjusted her hold on her weapon, wishing for sharp metal prongs instead of wooden ones. "We expect payment for our goods," she said boldly.
"Payment?" He laughed. "We're collecting unpaid taxes." He pointed at her. "You interfered with the law and deserve a personalized punishment." The other soldiers joined in his sardonic chuckle.
"Do not lay a hand on her!" Benjamin shouted.
The corporal stopped. His face showed his disdain. "If I do?"
"You won't, because I won't allow it." Daniel stepped forward.
Looking around at his men, the corporal asked, "Did you hear what that skinny bastard said? He will not allow me to touch her." All of the soldiers guffawed. Placing his gigantic fists on his hips, the burly man said, "No one tells me what to do."
"Until today!" Daniel charged the soldier head on, tackling the man and wrestling him to the ground.
The other soldiers rushed to watch. The man and boy rolled on the dry, bare earth. Dust flew in the air as each attempted to gain control.
Although proud of Daniel, she also feared for his safety. The corporal outweighed the lad by five or six stones. If the soldier came close, she would poke him. She glanced at the other soldiers. Their fierce expressions changed her mind. At her first blow, they would capture her, of that she was certain. Instead, she kept her pitchfork ready. She must protect herself and her father. Her action might maintain the neutrality of the onlookers. At present, they enjoyed the brawl and cheered each well-placed hit.
She always had hated boxing and wrestling, yet this battle riveted her attention. She must watch the proceeding for her own and Benjamin’s safety. Lighter than his opponent, Daniel's agility kept the larger man from gaining ground. Sarah screamed her encouragement, jabbing the air with her fork as if this action might somehow help. Each blow that struck Daniel made her wince. How long could this fight last?
As if he heard her, the burly man threw dust in the lad's eyes. Daniel cried out in surprise, shook his head, and pawed at his face with his hands. The soldier grasped a rock.
"Look out!" Sarah shouted and started forward. One soldier moved to intercept her. She considering edging around him then remembered her father and his vulnerable position. Reluctantly, she slid back.
Daniel tried to duck, but the stone struck his temple. Blood gushed from the open wound. His limbs shook, before collapsing in a heap.
Sarah watched as the corporal drew back his leg. "No," she screamed, taking a step.
Benjamin grabbed hold of her arm. "Stay. We will help him later."
The soldier laughed as the toe of his boot connected with the side of Daniel's head.
Tears streamed down Sarah's face, clouding her vision. She hastily wiped them aside with the back of her hand. "Is he dead?"
"I think not," her father said. "See his chest moves. He breathes."
Sarah kept part of her attention on Daniel. The rest she fixed on the soldier.
"Nothing like a good fight to heat up the blood and fuel my appetite." He rubbed his crotch with his meaty, hairy fingers. His men laughed and shouted their encouragement.
Never could she allow this man to capture her. She would rather die. Or if the gods can, please whisk me back to the 21st Century.
The thickset soldier whirled and eyed her with relish. Then, he lumbered toward her. Terror consumed her. She must control her fear, think only of surviving. Would Benjamin approve of her plans? Probably not, she thought but cared less. Never would she be an unwilling victim. The corporal sauntered within range. Sarah gave him a quick jab in the stomach then hastily pulled back.
"Bitch!" he screamed, grabbing his belly.
She danced to his side, stabbing him just below the rib cage.
"Yeow!" His face turned beet red. He slid one hand to his left side. "You will pay."
Sarah heard the sound of course laughter, followed by "No!" from Benjamin then closed her ears against further intrusion. She must center on her attack and her assailant. Again, she circled him.
Before the corporal could turn around, she lunged at his back, aiming for his kidneys. The tine found its mark. Damn, she thought. The blunted wooden end could not penetrate his woolen uniform.
The soldier bellowed in agony as he fell to his knees. His companions smirked with what sounded like pleasure at his discomfort. Their amusement surprised her. Perhaps she had an ally or two. Their reaction encouraged her. If she could beat their leader, they might leave.
"Get off our property and don't come back!" Sarah screamed.
Getting to his feet, he shouted at his
men, "Grab her!"
She waved the pitchfork back and forth. Although she would never take them all, she might get one or two strikes before they seized her.
"Capture that bloody bitch and bring her here!" the corporal shouted, swaying unsteadily.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When the men moved to surround her, Benjamin slid next to her. "I may not hit them, but I can deflect their blows toward thee."
Some help, Sarah thought unkindly. "Guard my back."
The corporal stood off to the side, grimacing. "When I yell three, rush them."
Zing. Zing. Zing. Arrows vibrated in the dirt less than a yard from her skirt, forming a protective half circle. She looked around and saw Silver Wolf. "Thank God," she murmured.
After loosening the arrows, Wolf flattened himself against the side of the house. He peeked around the corner an instant later, careful to keep out of view. The soldiers had stopped. Wolf notched another quiver. This one found a human target. He saw Sarah's shocked expression when the arrow struck the man and he screamed in pain.
"Kaya!" Wolf muttered, remembering her Quaker background.
"Indians!" bellowed the wounded soldier, as he grabbed his shoulder and ran toward his horse.
The other privates sped after him.
The corporal, whose back faced Silver Wolf, hesitated. "I will be back, bitch!" he howled as he joined their flight.
Anger clutched Silver Wolf's gut. While Sarah, even with three wooden shafts quivering near her, showed no fear; pride surged through him at her calm, defiant stance.
From his vantage point on the right side of the tavern, he had a clear shot of all four men. However, he could not see their faces clearly. Where they the same group that had looted Long Meadow? He considering killing them anyway, but stayed his hand, recalling Sarah’s shocked expression only moments before. Still, the buttocks of the leader, who had ordered the others to charge Sarah, lured Wolf. He aimed and connected with one of the man's large cheeks. The wail of pain sent waves of pleasure through Wolf. The corporal broke the shaft of the arrow and mounted gingerly. Wolf considered at least wounding the two uninjured soldiers then glanced at Sarah. Reluctantly, he lowered his bow, allowing the men to escape.
Wolf stepped into the open and watched as Sarah ran to the body lying on the ground. Instead of fleeing at the word, "Indian," she had rushed to aid the wounded. Although her lack of fear was unusual for a white woman, her reaction did not surprise Wolf. When she lifted the lad's head, Wolf recognized Daniel. Gently, she cradled him in her lap and wiped the blood from his forehead. Wolf could almost feel her tenderness as she touched the lad. Under different circumstances, Wolf would enjoy resting his head in Sarah's lap. He pushed the never to happen desire away.
"Is Daniel all right?" Benjamin asked, drawing closer.
Lifting her chin, Sarah turned as if to answer her father, but Wolf caught her attention and focused her eyes on him.
"Wolf." She flushed. "Uh, Mr. Keenan. What are you-thou-doing here?"
"Protecting you." He strode toward her.
Sarah's color deepened, but relief showed on her face. Wolf suppressed an impulse to lift her and crush her body to his. Instead, he observed her reaction to him, what he saw pleased him.
"How glad we are thou rode by," Benjamin said, bending down at Sarah's side. He surveyed the boy. "Let us get him into the house."
Wolf stooped and lifted the lad into his arms.
Sarah looked at him with gratitude and something else that Wolf could not distinguish.
"I will get water and bandages." She raced ahead.
With the tavern keeper leading, Wolf carried the stripling up the narrow, twisting steps that led to a small back room on the second floor; the dimensions of the bedroom barely exceeded a lean-to. Against the far wall, next to the lone window, stood a wooden pallet with a thin mattress on top; except for a set or two of clothes hanging on the wooden hooks and the striped curtains on the wall, the room was Spartan. As Wolf placed the youth on the low, flat bed, Sarah appeared.
She sat on the edge of the bed and started washing Daniel's head wound. Immediately, the blood flowed. Jerking back, she said, "This will require stitches. We must fetch a doctor."
"Thee knows the nearest surgeon is in Chester," Benjamin admonished her. "Thee can sew him."
"I cannot. I am not a nurse or a doctor." She rose from the pallet. As she backed away her face whiten.
Wolf thought for a moment she might faint.
Her obvious repulsion contradicted the concern she had shown minutes before. Wolf wondered at her resistance. It could not be the blood, for she had run to the boy and tried to help him. Yet, she objected to sewing the wound. No woman, white or Lenape, did that. Just when he thought he understood her, she reacted in a way totally foreign.
Realizing someone must take charge, he said, "Get me the needle and thread."
Embarrassment filled her face at his sharp words. She shoved her hand through the slit on the side of her petticoat, withdrawing her embroidered sewing kit from her pocket.
Leaning over the lad, Wolf applied a clean cloth to the cut and pressed.
Daniel moaned.
"I need moss," Wolf said.
"I will fetch it," Benjamin said and hastened away.
"Can you thread the needle?" he asked Sarah, allowing his contempt to show.
Her red face glowed brighter. "Of course. What color would thou want?"
"Any shade will do." She had spirit, he thought, even if she had refused to stitch the boy. Removing the pad, he wiped the wound clean. "The needle." He held out his hand.
"Are you, thee, not going to wash the cut with alcohol?" she asked, jerking the needle out of his reach.
"Clean water will do."
"No. It will not. There are germs."
"Germs?"
"Little bugs." Her voice sounded frustrated.
He stared at the wound. "I see no bugs."
"Of course not. They're too tiny to see."
Wolf shook his head. "If they are that small, how do you know they exist?"
She sighed. "If I get the wine, will thou pour it on the wound and on the needle?"
"I see no need, but if you wish." He shrugged.
Within moments she returned. Right behind her strode Benjamin Stone, holding the moss in his hand.
"Spill a little of this wine over the cut while I dip the needle in," she said.
Wolf followed her directions.
Daniel flinched and cried out.
She grimaced at the sound.
"Happy?" Wolf challenged.
"It is better to have a momentary discomfort than face infection," she retorted.
Shaking his head, he took the needle and asked, "Now, may I stitch?" His voice showed his annoyance, but he took no effort to hide his feelings.
She nodded.
As the needle punched the first hole, Daniel cried out again.
Sarah gasped. How can he push the needle into Daniel's flesh without flinching? She stared at the boy with pity. If only they had something to dull the pain.
"Sarah. "
She twisted her head and looked at Wolf.
"Hold his head, firmly." Wolf glanced at Benjamin. "Grasp his legs tightly."
Taking her position behind Daniel's head, Sarah crooned softly to the lad, "Everything will be fine." She repeated similar words while Wolf sewed. Her voice appeared to calm Daniel, for he stopped twitching. His reaction pleased her.
When Wolf finished, he placed the moss over the wound and wrapped a bandage around the boy's head. After dipping his hands in the water bucket, he dried them on his buckskin shirt.
Ugh, she thought, as she watched him. At least, he is finished stitching and won't contaminate the wound.
"What shall we do now?" she asked, staring at Daniel.
"Let him sleep. He will be fine." Wolf rose. "What happened?"
Sarah pulled up a quilt and tucked both sides in. She was not sure how or what to tell Wolf. "Let us go downs
tairs. I need a cup of tea." She craved caffeine, but would settle for sassafras tea. At least, it would be hot, and the warmth might chase the chills that invaded her body.
"I will round up the animals," Benjamin said.
"May I help thee, father?" Sarah asked, although she was unsure if her legs could bear her weight while she completed her tasks.
"Thank thee, daughter, but no. Thee should sit and rest."
"May I?" Wolf questioned.
Benjamin shook his head. "It will only take me a few minutes. Besides, I need to check our supplies and the barn for damage."
Wolf's jaw tightened at the word "barn," obviously remembering the destruction at Long Meadow and the death of his father. Sarah empathized with his hurt and wished she had the strength to help him. However, right now she could scarcely hold herself erect.
She moved slowly, clutching the railing that twisted around the curved steps leading to the first floor. With the danger over, weakness struck her body. Still, she resolved to control her trembling. The last thing Sarah wanted was for Wolf to perceive her as helpless. He had questioned her inability to stitch Daniel, and she could not explain why. She must control her body.
As she lifted the kettle from the trivet, her hand shook. Wolf placed his fingers over hers. He replaced the iron pot. "Sit. I'll do this.”
The touch of his hand warmed her. Gratefully, she released her hold and sat down hard on the bench. A calliope of mixed emotions flowed through her as the memories of the morning's events raced around her brain. Shivers did sprints up and down her arms and legs as her mind replayed the earlier scene. She must drive these thoughts away.
Sarah focused her attention on Wolf, watching him intently. He appeared so confident in the kitchen. This facet jarred with the strong, Alpha male image she had created. He placed a warm, ceramic, handleless cup between her palms and allowed his hands to hold hers for an extra moment. Energy seemed to course from him to her. She drank in his strength. "Thank thee."
