by Janet Cooper
Sarah stared at him in horror. "Does thee not want me?"
His heart soared when he heard the regret in her voice. "I would sooner lose all that I own than to lose you," he responded with difficulty.
She covered his hand with hers and squeezed.
"Will Benjamin also ostracize you?" Wolf asked.
"He says not."
"Don't you believe him?" Wolf questioned.
"His feelings for me will not change, but perhaps I will become an embarrassment to him." Tears streamed down her face. "Damn, damn, damn society! Why can't people live their own lives and stop interfering with others?"
Wolf pulled her off her horse onto his own; then he cradled her in his lap. "Regardless of the outside world, Little Turtle and White Owl and I will be your family, always." He cupped her chin with his hand and stared directly into her eyes. "Will you marry me?"
"Thee truly wants me?"
"Foolish woman. I have desired you since you first flirted with me at the tavern." He hugged her to him. She buried her face in his leather shirt.
"Thee loves me?" she asked in a soft, quiet, hesitant tone.
"Love is a word that I am not sure I understand. I like you. My body yearns for you. I wish to see you every morning when I awake lying next to me. More than that, I cannot say. Still, I believe the passion we feel for one another is a good base for a marriage."
He sensed her body's tension.
"I shall not wed thee," she whispered, before straightening her back and staring away from him.
Wolf scarcely heard her words and tried to see her face, but she kept it hidden from him.
"Why?"
"Without love, our relationship is a shallow well. At the first problem, the water disappears, leaving a useless and dangerous open hole." She eased her mind and her body, away from his.
He tried to pull her back, but she resisted.
"Many people wed without loving one another. Why shouldn't we?" he asked.
"That's not true in our case. Thee may not love me, but I love thee. I could not bear it if thee found another woman and felt for her what I feel for thee." She gripped her hands in her lap and kept her shoulders tucked into her body.
"What will you do?" he asked. Her rejection hit him like a death. He wanted her against him, wanted to comfort her, and wanted to banish all her sorrow. Yet, even though they sat near, she was pulling away from him.
"Until the corporal is apprehended, I will stay with thee. I will continue to love thee, but I cannot share my physical body with thee. Since we will not married, when the area is safe, I will return to my father." She clasped her arms around the front of her waist. "I think I would like to ride alone."
He wished to stop her, to force her to stay with him, but he could not.
Once she settled on her horse, she said, "Thy grandfather and thy son are far ahead. Let us ride and catch them." Without waiting for his reply, she clicked the reins and jabbed her heels into the side of her mount.
Reluctantly, he cantered after her.
* * *
"She hid her face from me," Long Knife shouted, as they drew near the farm house.
Sarah dismounted and walked toward the front step of the house where the lad stood, looking utterly rejected. She empathized with his pain, especially since this afternoon after her own life had taken several excruciating twists. At least, Jeremiah had found him. Sarah had hoped that with the return of Long Knife, Quick Rabbit would begin to heal. Obviously, Sarah had overlooked something. Pushing her own aches aside, she asked, "Did she speak to thee?"
He shook his head.
Gently, Sarah laid her hand on his arm. "Tell me what happened."
"She was sitting on the step, staring around her. When I called her, she looked at me, cried 'No,' then she buried her face in her lap."
"What did thou do?"
"I placed my hand on her shoulders. She flinched and started to shudder." He brushed the side of his shaven head with his free hand. "I pulled away, hoping she would stop crying." He shook his head. "It didn't help."
Patting his forearm, Sarah asked, "What occurred next?"
"The women tried to calm her. She shook them off. They suggested I leave." He began pacing again, stopped and faced Sarah. "What can I do?"
"I will see her," Sarah said. "Wolf, take care of him." She started to run toward the village.
"Wait for me," Little Turtle cried.
Sarah whirled around. Unwilling to sever or fray the bond building between them, she searched for an excuse. "Since thy father is busy, thee must help White Owl with the horses," she eventually managed.
He pouted.
"When I return, why don't we practice with our knives?"
His face beamed. "Hurry back."
She rubbed his scalp lock with her knuckles. "I must run."
When Sarah arrived at Quick Rabbit's home, the woman sat silently on the top step, gazing straight ahead. None of the other women was present. Perhaps, once Quick Rabbit had ceased crying, they had left.
"Quick Rabbit? It is I, Sarah." Kneeling nearby, but careful not to touch the grieving woman, Sarah went on, "Long Knife …"
The woman started to tremble, fiercely shaking her head from side to side.
Attempting to comfort her, Sarah gingerly placed her hand on Quick Rabbit's arm, hoping her action would not be rejected. "Hush. I am here."
Quick Rabbit permitted Sarah's touch. Slowly, the shivering ceased, but the unreadable expression in the woman's eyes persisted. Sarah sought to identify her look. At first, she believed Quick Rabbit's mien was one of fear, but soon dismissed that idea. An article she had read long ago and had forgotten until now ran through her mind about a victim feeling embarrassed by what had occurred. Mayhap, Quick Rabbit believed she was responsible for the rape, thought she should have prevented the rape, thereby concluded she had shamed her son.
Increasing the pressure on the woman's arm, Sarah said, "Thou are not to blame. The man attacked thee. Thou had no choice. He overwhelmed thee." Stating each sentence clearly and distinctly, then repeating them, she saw the tension in Quick Rabbit's expression dim.
Sarah pushed on. "A woman's body is her own. No man may use or abuse it. Thou must not allow what the soldier did to destroy thy life." She punctuated each word. "Thou did nothing to be ashamed of. Thy people will protect thee. Thou need never be afraid again." She repeated these sentences over and over again. Each time, Quick Rabbit sat a little straighter. The lines on her face continued to fade. When at last the woman seemed at peace, Sarah threw her arms around Quick Rabbit.
"I cannot face him," Quick Rabbit's voice, rusty with disuse, forced out the words.
"Thou will never see the British corporal again," Sarah said with confidence.
"No. Long Knife." The woman drew in a deep breath.
Still cradling her, Sarah said, "Thy son believes thee innocent. Long Knife wishes to comfort thee. Thy rejection hurts him." Knowing how cruel her words might sound, she forced herself on. "Will thou continue to isolate thyself and deny him his mother? Yes, he is a Lenape brave, but a very young one."
Jerking away, Quick Rabbit searched Sarah's face then she began to cry.
"Let thy tears wash away all the guilt and embarrassment. Thou must return to the living, put aside thy grieving." Sarah found her handkerchief and handed it to the woman.
When the weeping stopped, Sarah asked, "Will thou see thy son?"
Quick Rabbit nodded.
Sarah almost volunteered to comb the woman's hair, but held back. Too many people had assisted Quick Rabbit with her daily grooming. "While I am fetching Long Knife, thou can wash thy face and dress thy hair."
She looked nervous.
"I will give thee plenty of time," Sarah said. "Greet Long Knife inside. I will make sure no one disturbs thee."
"You come inside the house, too," she said anxiously.
Sarah smiled. "Thou desires this?"
Quick Rabbit nodded.
* * *
&nbs
p; Sarah found Long Knife, sitting on the step outside the plantation house. Wolf rested against the nearby railing. She smiled at them, before looking at the boy. "Thy mother will see thee."
"What shall I say?"
"Tell her thou art pleased to see her," Sarah said.
"Compliment her on her dress," Wolf added.
Sarah stared at him, but didn’t disagree.
"Women generally enjoy flattery."
"That is true." Sarah hoped she had not been foolish to allow Quick Rabbit to prepare herself for her son's visit. "Oh! Remember, do not tell her about being a scout for the Continental Army."
"If she asks what I am doing?"
"Tell her thou art hunting."
"It will not be a lie, for you seek the most dangerous of game …man," Wolf added.
"Thee speaks the truth," Sarah said. After a few more minutes of instruction, she judged that Quick Rabbit had had a sufficient interval to prepare herself.
When they reached his cabin, Long Knife hesitated outside the entrance.
Sensing his uneasiness, Sarah said, "I will go first."
He nodded.
She lifted the latch and pushed open the oak door. "Quick Rabbit, thy son is here to see thee."
A well-groomed woman sat on a stool facing the clean-swept hearth. Quick Rabbit had donned the traditional knee-length skirt, but beads of black and red, the favorite colors of the Lenape, decorated the back and sleeves of her deerskin shirt. On the visible ankle and wrist, small silver bells hung. In her hands, she held a small piece of fur. Her long hair was folded and wrapped around a piece of cloth, pulling the heavy mane close to her head. She had decked herself in her finest outfit, but she sat so still that not even the trinkets jingled.
The effort that Quick Rabbit had expended to attire herself so formally pleased Sarah. "May we come in?" she asked and gestured for Long Knife to follow her into the one-room house.
Although Quick Rabbit kept her back to them, she briefly nodded her head. A soft, tinkling sound broke the silence she had created.
With careful, measured steps, Sarah and the young brave approached Quick Rabbit. When they reached her, Sarah gestured for the boy to walk around his mother and kneel by her far side. "Thy son has come to see thee."
"How beautiful you look," Long Knife said.
Quick Rabbit glanced at him.
"I have missed you." He covered her empty hand with his.
Sarah tensed, waiting.
The Lenape woman did not pull away.
The sight filled Sarah with joy, and she sighed silently.
Quick Rabbit held out the deerskin cloth toward Long Knife. "Yours."
He looked confused.
"A baby blanket?" Sarah asked, pointing to the teenager.
His mother nodded.
Long Knife reddened as he grasped the soft fur.
As quietly as possible, Sarah eased out of the cabin. When she stepped into the light, Wolf stood waiting.
"How is she?"
Sarah told him about the meeting. "I think she is on her way to recovering."
"Thank you for helping my people." Wolf pulled her into his arms and tried to kiss her.
She turned her head. They would be mine, too, if only thee loved me.
Her quick move caused his lips to skim across her cheek. Even their brief contact had scorched her skin, but she moved away, presenting as cold a facade as possible. Only to herself would she admit that his fleeting touch had filled her soul with longing.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
She and Wolf walked toward the house. They kept as far away as possible without making their situation obvious to any casual observer. Sarah swallowed hard as Little Turtle ran up to them.
"Can we practice throwing our knives, please?" he asked, looking directly at her.
The boy's request was a mixed blessing for Sarah. She was pleased because it showed a softening in his attitude toward her, yet why now when Wolf's relationship with her had reached an impasse? Pushing this thought aside, for she refused to allow the child to suffer for a problem not of his making, she forced a light response, "Lead on."
"May I come, too?" Wolf asked.
"If Sarah doesn't mind," Little Turtle answered.
Ironic, the child and father had reversed roles. The lad had accepted her, and the father had rebuffed her. Although not technically true, his lack of commitment was tantamount to the same thing, she thought. After briefly considering what she should say, Sarah replied, "Of course, he may join us."
Little Turtle returned to the spot by the creek where Sarah had first seen him throwing his knife.
"Show me what to do," he said.
Sarah pulled her penknife from her pocket. "Unsheathe thy blade and hold it thus." She placed the knife on the palm of her hand. "Watch what I do." The penknife flipped over and the blade stuck into the dirt. Before Little Turtle could try, Sarah said, "Watch again. I will slow down the action." Picking up her knife, she said, "Never hurry." Again, she performed her trick. The blade landed in the slot she had carved into the ground only moments before.
"Wow!"
"Good throw," Wolf said.
"Care for a game?" she challenged.
"Why not?" he replied.
"I'll be the judge." Little Turtle marked off a four-foot shape, looking more oval than round. Inside he drew two small ones. Next, he drew stick figures of animals and birds between the lines. "Sarah, you start."
"Since thy father understands the game, let him begin while thee explains the rules to me."
"When it's your turn, stand where No X'han, my father, is. You throw the knife so that it hits an animal."
"Like this," Wolf said, as he released his blade.
"Wow!" shouted Little Turtle. The tip and the top of the shaft stuck firmly in the earth.
"Do we aim for certain animals before others?" Sarah asked.
"No, any figures in the outside ring will do. Next the middle, and last the inside circle," Wolf explained, pulling his knife from the dirt.
"Is it my turn?" she asked.
"No X'han throws until he misses," Little Turtle said.
"I'll watch," Sarah said. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back and rested her back against the nearest tree. She watched the two of them with mixed feelings. They could be her family, if Wolf loved her and if she stayed. Would she return to her own century? Without Wolf's love, she had no reason to remain. The life of a woman raised in the traditions of the Quakers during the 18th century no longer held any illusions for her. The restrictions imposed upon these women grated on Sarah. She could never change them, nor could she ever cheerfully follow them. Since that was the case, little reason remained for her to stay. Still her heart ached at the idea of leaving Wolf and his people.
"Only two to go and you missed, No X'han," Little Turtle shouted, breaking into Sarah's thoughts. "It's your turn." He glanced at her, his face bright with anticipation.
"My turn?" she asked, still trying to get her bearings.
Wolf bowed.
Nodding her head in his direction, Sarah took his place. With easy, yet cautious moves, she completed the first two circles. She analyzed the center section, where Wolf had missed. "May I have a practice shot?"
"No," said Little Turtle.
Wolf shrugged. "It's his game."
"All right," she sighed. With great care and concentration, she hit the animal squarely in the middle.
"Wow!" the boy shouted. "Only the bird to go."
"Don't make me nervous," she scolded gently. As she released the knife, a mocking bird called. The blade missed the drawing by less than a half an inch. "Dang!"
"My turn," Wolf said. He struck the stick figure squarely in the center. "Would you care to continue the game?"
"Why not?" she replied, wanting to win and beat him.
"Can you throw your penknife as well as flip it?" he asked.
She tossed it lightly in her hand. "Yep!"
Wolf glanced around. "See that burl o
n the maple tree?"
"That knob about head high?" she asked.
He nodded. "The blade must stick in the hole in the center."
"Where do we stand?"
"Back here," said Little Turtle as he moved to the far end of the clearing.
"That's about fifty feet," she said, unsure whether she could reach her goal from this distance.
"Yep!" Wolf repeated her word and smiled.
She laughed. "Thee first."
"Oh, no, ladies before gentlemen." He bowed with a flourish.
Sarah walked next to the boy. "Right here?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Here goes." She took a deep breath and released the knife. Thud. "I did it!" she shouted, jumping up and down. Sarah grabbed Little Turtle's hands and spun around. "I won!"
"Ahem. I have a turn," Wolf said, as he approached.
"Oh. Of course. Let me fetch my penknife." After securing her knife, she stepped behind the lad and watched.
With very little preparation time, Wolf threw his blade. It sank into the very spot vacated by Sarah's knife.
"Wow! It's a tie."
"Shall we proceed?" Wolf asked.
"No. I admit that thee is just as good as I am."
Wolf grabbed her around the waist and swung her. "As good? I'm better."
His arms felt wonderful around her, and for a moment she hoped he returned her love. Until he declared himself, allowing his embrace to continue accomplished nothing but hurt for Sarah. She eased out of his arms. "Who missed first?" she asked, stepping away.
"Yeah, No X'han?" Little Turtle said, defending her.
Sarah squeezed the boy, grateful that at least this relationship was going well. "My champion."
He beamed.
After retrieving his blade, Wolf said, "If you have had enough lessons for one day, Little Turtle, you should stay and practice."
Wanting to separate herself from Wolf, Sarah said, "If thee has a problem or a question, I will remain with thee and help."
The child shook his head. "Maybe tomorrow." Little Turtle juggled his knife in his hand preparing for his next shot.
Unable to push their delicate relationship, Sarah said, "Take thy time, practice, and thee will learn."
He flicked the knife. The tip of the blade stuck and held.
