by Janet Cooper
"I didn't know you were learning Lenape from Bowl Woman, so how could I have stopped your lessons?"
"Thy son managed in thy stead," she muttered.
"Now, just a minute"
"No, I won't. Perhaps thou did not directly interfere, but the result was the same. He senses thou wishes me gone and acts accordingly. I did not come of my own free will. You kidnapped me. Let us pray, either Washington's men or thou will find the British quickly, so I may go home." She whirled on her heel and left the room, holding her head high. So much for wanting to be a part of his life.
Sarah found the stairs leading up to her room more by instinct than by sight, since tears clouded her eyes. Yet, she had prevented Wolf from seeing the hurt raging inside her. Several times she swallowed. Each time, hoping her vision would clear, but nothing helped. She clutched the railing and slid her palm up the smooth, wooden support that both guided and supported her. Lifting her chin another inch, she looked forward and tried to suppress the dreams of what might have been.
Only a few feet more, she told herself as she drew near her bedroom. Once inside, she quietly but firmly pressed the door closed and stood leaning against the hard, unyielding wood. I want to go home. Home to my time. Silently, the unbidden tears fell. Will I ever find the pathway home and escape?
* * * *
Wolf stared after Sarah. When she went out of his view, he listened as she climbed the stairs. Then he heard only silence. A slight creak behind him caused Wolf to turn. White Owl stood in the kitchen doorway.
His grandfather glanced at him. "What is the matter?"
"Nothing." Immediately, Wolf wished his sharp words back, for he never used this tone with his XhanXhan. For one who valued control, Wolf had shown little. His failure troubled him.
"My eyes may not see as far as a young man's, but, close, they do not betray me," said his venerable elder.
"There is nothing worth discussing. If you will excuse me …" Wolf made a move to edge by his grandfather. He needed time, time to resolve the river of emotions rushing inside him.
A restraining hand gripped his upper arm. "Until Sarah arrived, I seldom saw you lose your temper. It is common now." A look of compassion and understanding washed White Owl's weathered face.
Perhaps voicing his feelings and confusion to his grandfather might help Wolf resolve his deep-seeded dilemma about Sarah. "No one else makes me as angry or as frustrated as she does." He stopped, then added, "One moment I want desperately to confront her, the next to comfort her."
His grandsire nodded. "Walk outside with me and we will talk."
Wolf allowed himself to be led.
When they stood beside one another, his grandfather said, "Let us visit your grandmother's grave. Her spirit will hear and help us."
Although White Owl often stopped by his wife's burial site, he had never asked his grandson to attend or accompany him. Wolf recognized the importance of this new bond. They walked away from the house and toward a small fenced-in plot where many of the tribe’s ancestors rested. His father’s never would. The cool night air and the aura of serenity that continually surrounded his grandfather helped Wolf regain a measure of self‑control.
White Owl sat on the waist-high stone pillar marking the entrance to the graveyard. "Tell me what troubles you."
Wolf rested his hip on the other column and faced his grandfather. Stars filled the sky and their reflection lit up the old man's face as clearly as a full moon. Wolf admired the composure visible in XhanXhan's countenance and had modeled his own life on this wise man. Unable to discuss Sarah, who was the root of his internal dilemma, Wolf said, "Long Knife will leave before the next sun rises to join Washington's army."
"The lad spoke to me about his decision."
His grandfather's calm acceptance combined with his knowledge surprised Wolf. "When?"
"Just before the setting of the sun. He asked me about life in the army. I told him of my experiences in the war between the French and the British." White Owl frowned. "He needed to realize hunting men is far different from hunting animals, to understand the difficulties he will face because he is a Lenape. Our talk helped."
"If Sarah had not mentioned Daniel joining and becoming a scout, Long Knife would have remained at Long Meadow. We would have hunted and found the men responsible."
White Owl shook his head. "Do not blame her. A young brave seeks excitement and adventure, as well as revenge. Unable to help his mother, he must chase the demons that haunt his spirit. He blames himself and will do so until those responsible are caught."
"We will apprehend the British …"
His grandfather nodded. "Youth acts, not plans and attacks. His time away will help him grow. The skills he has developed, while preparing to be a brave, will aid him and keep him safe."
Realizing this discussion was finished, although his grandfather had not responded as Wolf had wished, he moved on. "With Long Knife leaving, who will take care of Quick Rabbit?"
"The women have been nursing her. They will continue. Our people told me that Sarah has visited her and will do so again," his grandfather said, matter-of-factly. "Her calls will be good for Quick Rabbit and Sarah."
"She is a white woman"
"My wife had white skin, yet she loved the Lenape with all her soul."
Wolf thought again of the rejection his grandmother had suffered from her own neighbors, but did not wish to remind his grandfather of his wife's unhappiness and loneliness.
"The Great Spirit works in many ways and through different people," White Owl said. "Often we do not understand. He does not ask us to do so."
"How do we know what that is?" Wolf challenged gently.
"Only the spirits can tell us, and even with the skills of a shaman they often are reluctant."
Brushing his hand through his scalp lock in frustration, Wolf changed the subject. "What shall I do about Little Turtle? He is disrespectful to Sarah."
"He is jealous."
"Jealous?" Wolf stood tall and frowned intensely.
In the same, quiet voice, White Owl continued, "Since his mother died, he has been the focus of our family's attention. The village pays him special notice because he is my great-grandson. Bowl Woman, having never had a child of her own, adores him and will do anything to please the boy. Since we must recognize English law instead of Lenape tradition, he knows that he is the heir to the plantation. His grandfather, who cherished him, died, and Sarah arrived. You began spending time with her, time that takes you away from your son."
Vividly recalling their lovemaking, Wolf eased back so that the shadows from the large beech over-hanging the graveyard blurred the features of his face. "She is a visitor to our village. I can't force her to leave. Her life will be in danger if she goes," he said, seeking to justify her stay.
White Owl nodded.
Wolf thought he saw a slight smile touch the corners of his grandfather's lips. He studied him closer, but no trace showed.
"I understand," White Owl said. "Give Little Turtle time. He will accept her."
"When we capture the soldiers responsible, she will go home, and my son will have no reason to be jealous. Everything will return to normal." Wolf's statements became a knife that slashed and tore at his gut. He could not bear to think of Long Meadow Plantation without Sarah. Once she left, nothing would ever be the same again.
His grandfather eyed him. Wolf wondered if he had spoken his last thoughts aloud? Or could his grandfather hear the lie and the regret in his voice? Or did the words only ring false in his own ears?
"I will spend more time with my grandson and explain his obligations to the village and to our visitors." White Owl rested his hands on his thighs. "We have spoken about many concerns, except the one that burns brightest within you."
"I must handle that alone."
The old man nodded his understanding. "If you need me, I am here."
"Thank you, XhanXhan."
"I will say good night." He gestured for Wolf to leave him alon
e.
Wolf envied his grandfather. The love that existed between his grandparents had bridged the gap of death. His own marriage had not been strong enough to last through this separation. And if he was honest, all feelings for his wife had died before her death. Even now, he hadn’t taken a moment to visit her grave. Walking toward the house, he acknowledged that his feelings for Sarah had that potential, yet he knew he could never allow his relationship with her to develop.
* * * *
Sarah tucked the small, porcupine box Wolf had given her into her pocket. When she’d initially unpacked, she’d not unfolded her leggings. Feeling chilled upon, she’d pulled a pair out and discovered the treasure. The discovery pleased her. This might help crack Quick Rabbit’s shell. She had waited in her room until the sounds of the morning risers ceased and quiet had returned to the house for she wished to avoid seeing Little Turtle or his father.
Like a thief, she stole down the steps and entered the kitchen. The cook smiled then continued wiping off the wooden table top.
"Bowl Woman, I would like to take food to Quick Rabbit. What would thou suggest?"
The older woman stopped scrubbing and looked at Sarah. "The women feed her. She eats little."
Unwilling to allow her plan to collapse before she had built the proper supports, Sarah said, "Perhaps thou remembers a favorite food of hers. We might tempt her."
Gathering the cloth in one hand, Bowl Woman said, "As child, she and Wolf ate cooked pears with honey."
Mentally Sarah shook her head. Must her whole life revolve around cutting fruit? "Would thou have some pears and honey that I might prepare?"
"In the outside shed are bushels of apples and pears." Bowl Woman gestured with her arm toward the back of the house.
"Why don't I make enough for the family and take a portion to Quick Rabbit?"
"I help. You get pears."
"Thank you." Sarah quickly found the storage room, picked up a half-full basket, and carried it inside.
As the two women worked, Sarah said, "How long has thou been cooking for the family?"
"Bowl Woman came with Silver Wolf's mother. White Owl is member of Turtle Clan. We are members of Wolf."
"When did Wolf's mother pass on?"
"She joined heavens when he was less than three seasons."
The peel hung suspended, attached to the fruit, but not heavy enough to fall off. "Wolf was only nine months old? Who raised him?"
"His father, grandfather, me." She dropped her pieces of cut fruit onto the earthenware dish. "I lost husband and babe. I nursed Silver Wolf."
"They all died at the same time?" she asked.
"Many Lenape died."
"From what?"
"Measles."
Sarah wanted to cry at the injustice. She had read about whole villages wiped out by diseases brought by the whites, but meeting someone directly and tragically involved deepened her remorse. Although she tried to find words of comfort, she finally settled for the inadequate, "I am sorry."
Bowl Woman nodded.
Remembering what she was doing, Sarah finished peeling. Instead of quenching Sarah's curiosity, Bowl Woman's comments had opened the dam. "Was Silver Wolf's wife also from the Wolf clan?"
Shaking her head, Bowl Woman said, "No, she was Turkey."
"Where did he meet her?"
"Her village destroyed by whites. She only survivor. Silver Wolf and father found her. Brought her back. Few moons later, Silver Wolf married her."
"He must have loved her very much," Sarah said.
"She beautiful. Good Lenape wife."
Her curiosity aroused, Sarah asked, "What makes a 'good Lenape wife'?"
"Wife cooks, gardens, takes care husband …"
"Obedient?" Sarah added flippant tone.
"Not always."
Sarah expression sobered. She could not hide her surprise as she said, "No?"
"No," the cook said.
Her voice sounded strange, as if she had said too much.
"We talked enough. Now finish."
* * * *
As Sarah walked toward the cabins, she recalled Bowl Woman's words. Beautiful was how the older woman described Wolf's deceased wife. He must have fallen in love when he rescued her. Sarah understood how that could happen. Her attraction for Wolf had developed as quickly. What had Wolf's wife done that was not obedient? She must find another opportunity to ask.
When she reached Quick Rabbit's cabin, Sarah found her on the step in the same spot as yesterday. Drawing nearer, Sarah began, "Doeth thou remember me?" She sat next to the woman, careful to leave a space between them, and waited.
"I am Sarah Stone." She repeated the stories she had told the day before. The woman showed as little interest, but Sarah refused to give up.
While talking, Sarah pulled the porcupine box from her pocket and held it in her hand, directly in front of Quick Rabbit. "Silver Wolf gave this to me the first time I visited Long Meadow. He told me thee had made it. The craftsmanship is beautiful." She stopped, hoping for a reaction, but saw nothing. "I would love to watch thee work. The quills must hurt thy fingers. Doeth thou wear gloves to protect thyself?"
Had Sarah detected a slight movement? She opened the lid. "My thanks for creating such a pretty and practical piece," she babbled on. "I keep straight pins in mine. See?" She tilted the container so that Quick Rabbit could look if she wished. "My supply is dwindling." The thought reminded Sarah of her own time, and her own inability to replace these stainless steel pins. Having no time to dwell on what she couldn't change, Sarah added, "I will soon be forced to use large thorns to keep my costume together."
Sarah placed the box on the step between them. Quick Rabbit had not stirred.
Deciding to take the next tack, Sarah said, "Bowl Woman said thou enjoys pears and honey. We made a dish for thee. May I give thee one to try?" She edged around until she was kneeling in front of Quick Rabbit.
After lifting the cloth covering from the pottery jar, Sarah spooned a small segment of honey-covered pear. Carefully, she wiped the spoon on the mouth of the container, removing any excess syrup. She leaned closer and touched Quick Rabbit's mouth with the edge. Nothing. Sarah wedged the spoon between the woman's lips. The end of her pink tongue grazed the top. Encouraged, Sarah tipped the handle so the juice might run down into Quick Rabbit's mouth. Again, Sarah saw her tongue peek-out.
"Bowl Woman told me that she used to treat thee and Wolf with honeyed pears. While we prepared them, she said if Wolf learned that I had taken all the pears to thee, he would be very upset. So, we made enough for Wolf and Little Turtle and White Owl." As Sarah spoke, she kept spooning bits of pear into Quick Rabbit's mouth. When she had swallowed the last morsel, Sarah said, "I will bring another treat tomorrow. Perhaps thou will enjoy that one as well."
Quick Rabbit did not stir, yet when Sarah rose to her feet, she felt pleased because Quick Rabbit had eaten the food.
"You will be fine," she said to the quiet woman. "I have plenty of time to spend with thee." After speaking, Sarah wondered if her words were true. She pushed the thought aside. As Sarah dusted off the back of her skirt, she glimpsed a small dark head. When she turned in that direction to get a better view, Little Turtle ducked behind the side of the cabin. Casually, she gathered the remains of her picnic lunch, placed the porcupine box in her pocket, and started toward the house. She watched Little Turtle from the corner of her eye. He slid from cover to cover, first using the cabin, next a tree, and finally a small bush, scarcely larger than he was.
Upon reaching the large open area that separated the cabins from the barnyard, Sarah stopped and slowly looked around. "Little Turtle," she said, pretending surprise. "What art thou doing here?"
He jumped up from his hiding place. "I live here. What were you doing to Quick Rabbit?" he demanded. Little Turtle marched closer, his hands in tight, little fists.
"Feeding her, talking to her. Why?"
"Quick Rabbit is Lenape. She does not need you."
Sa
rah had expected him to say something negative, but hearing these words still hurt. Still, she refused to allow this child or his father to keep her from helping Quick Rabbit. Sarah had made progress, admittedly limited, but she would continue pushing. "Did she tell thee that?"
He stared at her in disbelief. "She doesn't talk."
"Then how doeth thou know she doesn’t need me?"
"You're a white woman." His tone had lost a measure of confidence.
"That matters little. I have visited her as anyone who is concerned would do."
His clenched hands opened, and he edged nearer. "Why would a white help a Lenape?"
Sarah considered mentioning the lessons she had tried to give him on mumblety-peg, but remembered his parting statement that she had "put a spell on the knife." Instead she said, "The color of skin matters not at all if one person can help another. Everyone at the plantation has a job, except me. I have time, and I want to help."
"Does my father know about this?" He placed his fists on his hip, the defiant pose reestablished.
"I told him." She hoped the boy would not ask about Wolf's response.
"Oh!" His shoulders drooped, his hands flexed, and he walked away.
Sarah almost asked about his knife throwing but decided against it. "I am going to see Quick Rabbit tomorrow about this time. Come if thou wants."
Did his pace slow? she wondered. Unable to find anything else to say, she called, "Good-bye, Little Turtle," before making her way back to the main house.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sarah heard a voice coming from the parlor, but she didn't recognize the light, baritone murmur. With her curiosity peeked, she slowed her step. When she walked by the open door, she chanced a glimpse. Wolf appeared to be looking at a paper on the desk in front of him. He glanced up and scanned her face, as if searching for something. Perhaps, he is wondering if I am still annoyed. Applying the same question to herself, she realized her anger had faded when she had resolved to continue helping Quick Rabbit.
The other man stopped talking. His hand hovered over the parchment. Possibly he was aware that he had lost his audience. He shifted to Wolf, then following Silver Wolf's lead, straightened, instantly.
