by Adair, Mary
New Moon sat down beside Gentle Rain. "Let me see your son, Rain."
Rain turned to face New Moon. New Moon sensed Rain had worried it would hurt New Moon to see Rain's baby strong and healthy after her own had not lived, so she worked to make sure Rain knew her worries had not been warranted.
"He is beautiful, just like his mother." New Moon cooed as she caressed a plump cheek and then ran a finger along his tiny shoulder and arm that was creased with roll after roll of baby fat. "He did not get this beautiful glow of health from that skinny husband of yours."
Both women laughed happily together as Bow escorted Akachee to the council house.
***
Several hours passed before Hunting Bow and Akachee returned. Akachee did not bother to call for entrance before entering the lodge and bringing Bow in with her. New Moon helped Gentle Rain tuck in the children for the night. Dinner for the adults stayed warm on the low fire in the center of the room. By the expression on Bow's face she could tell things were not as favorable as she had hoped. He walked to the pot of deer stew and helped himself to a large portion before he sat in a chair. New Moon was used to Panther helping himself in just that sort of way. Loneliness filled her heart.
"I have news." Bow stirred his stew while he waited for the three women to fill their bowls and join him. "The people have chosen not to join in on the war between the Choctaws and the French."
Though New Moon knew this was the best decision for her people, she worried about here husband.
"George was also at the council meeting."
New Moon felt a twinge of hope. "Yes, I knew he was in the village." Of the two traders Panther owned the trading post with she liked George the most. He did not come to the village often. He mostly went into French territory and sold goods to the tribes who preferred the better-made English products to those of the French.
George spoke perfect French and, with his smaller build and dark complexion, he easily passed as French. New Moon suspected that when Panther still worked for the king, George was what Panther called a contact. She didn't know whether or not George still worked for the king but she was sure, if need be, he would go in search of Panther.
Bow chased a piece of meat with his spoon. "The governor is opening this area up to unlimited trading. The agreement with Panther for going to the Choctaw, even if he didn't re-enlist, was to extend Panther's monopoly for three years. But Panther has been gone for so long without reporting in that the governor does not feel he is obligated to honor that agreement with Panther's partners."
Beau looked at the women and could see they were confused. "Panther owns a large merchant operation along with his partnership in the post."
New Moon shrugged, "I know these things." She knew that in white men's terms her husband was very wealthy. She also knew that wealth was not more important to him than his life with her people.
Beau took a big bite and chewed a long time while he looked thoughtfully in his bowl. "He supports many employees," he tried again, "traders, warehouse and ship crews because of the trade in this area, yet he conserves the wildlife by restricting the number and type of skins per season. Unlimited trading would deplete this area of its wildlife."
New Moon sat her bowl down. "I understand. This is why George is here?"
"Yes. He wants to convince the chiefs not to trade for goods other than those they can get from Thomas until he and Panther can return."
New Moon looked up expectantly. "I knew it. George is going to look for Panther? This is good news. My husband will return home soon."
New Moon saw the glance that passed between Beau and Gentle Rain. "It is true that Panther has been gone a long time, but he is well. I would know if it were not so."
Later that night New Moon's labor pains began. She pushed herself up from her sleeping skins. The pains had started shortly after dinner and progressively grew stronger.
"Akachee?" she called out softly. "It is time." The older woman immediately came to New Moon's aid. So did Gentle Rain.
New Moon gripped Rain's arm as another pain pressed in on her. When it eased she spoke to Rain, "I will not ask you to come with me, Gentle Rain. I know that Bow plans to take you home in the morning."
"Then you know wrong." Rain scolded. "We talked about it last night. If you will allow it, I would like to help you with the birth of your daughter."
Rain helped New Moon wrap a heavy robe about her shoulders. New Moon placed a hand over Rain's as she adjusted the robe. "I am honored that you will be there with me. I am sure Akachee will also welcome your help."
"What help?" Rain giggled. "You will be doing all the work."
Chapter Thirty
James took a deep, sad breath, and tried to ignore the acrid smell drifting upward. Would this war ever end?
He'd been led to believe he would be helping the Choctaw to diminish their ties with the French. In actuality he'd seen precious few French. No, this had become a civil war among the Choctaws.
James looked down at the valley below. The smoke-filled air held the smell of burning flesh and rotting dead. No battle he'd ever witnessed compared to this battle between red brothers. The scene would haunt his dreams forever.
"Our Chief says you are leaving."
James squatted down and picked a blade of grass. He looked closely at the green sprout before placing it between his teeth. He'd heard Spotted Hawk. He didn't want Hawk to ask him to stay. "I'm no longer needed here. My woman waits for me in my own village."
Hawk let his gaze scan the battle scene below. "You have been given many scalps in payment. Do you have a tall lodge pole to hang them on?"
James glanced up at Hawk and then straightened up. "I have a tall pole. I will cover it with the scalps of my brother's enemies."
Hawk nodded and James turned and swung up on Eagle.
"Fair well, my friend." James reined Eagle around and rode away from the valley of blood and death. Without thinking he took the trail he knew was traveled most often by George. Two days later he was pleased to come across George's camp.
"Its good to see you, George," he said as he stepped into the light of George's small fire. Startled, George had a pistol pointed at James' heart before he'd finished speaking.
"Damn it, James." he swore with a chuckle as he put his pistol away. "It's good to see you. I dare say your woman would have scalped me herself if I'd shot you dead."
James laughed, "Only after torturing you for days."
George shuddered, "God preserve me from wild wolves and crazy squaws.'' He pointed to the ground across the fire from himself. "Sit. We have much to talk about."
James had not realized just how tired he was until he lowered himself to the ground.
"Governor Glen has withdrawn his agreement with us. He believes you to be dead."
James sprang to his feet. "I must get back to Charles Town."
"Not in the dark you won't. Settle down for the night. In the morning will be soon enough to leave."
Knowing George to be right James stretched out on the ground and was soon asleep.
James woke to a sudden and painful kick to the ribs. In one fluid motion he rolled and sprang to his feet. With a curse he glared into the eyes of a burly man holding a pistol pointed directly at his chest.
A quick look around revealed two French foot soldiers and a half dozen Choctaw warriors. He could not believe this many men were able to come upon him and George unaware.
Swinging his head from side to side he looked for George. He finally spotted him. George, tied by the wrists to two trees hung partially suspended between the two. James was likewise roughly grabbed and dragged against his struggles to where he was also strung up like a deer ready for gutting.
He looked over to George. There was a good deal of blood flowing from his left temple. A warrior stepped up and proceeded to cut George's clothes from his body. As the night air touched the bare skin, James could see him shiver.
Slowly the cold penetrated his consciousness and Geo
rge groaned as he came to. He glanced over to James and James saw the silent plea in their depths.
The Indian stepped to James and quickly stripped him.
Up until this point no words had been spoken. James figured it was about time to start up some dialogue. "What do you want?" he asked in French. The captors all laughed.
One of the foot soldiers stepped up to James. "Who are you, breed?" he sneered.
James twisted at his bindings in response.
"So you refuse to be cooperative." He turned and strode toward George. "How about you? Do you have something to say to me?"
George spit a rather disgusting wad into the Frenchman's leering face. The soldier stood perfectly still as the spit slid down the side of his face. Then with a burst of anger he drove his fist into George's stomach.
Yanking a hand full of hair he drew close to the bound man.
"I'm going to enjoy watching what my Choctaw friends have in store for you." With a painful pull to his hair he added, "I wonder if you will die well or if your screams will fill the night like the baying of a pack of wolves."
George spoke through clinched teeth as his gaze bore hatefully into the eyes of his enemy, "I'll see you in hell, you savage's whore!"
The Frenchman withdrew a knife from the sheath he wore at his side and placed the flat side to George's face. "Do you know what the Indian's do with a knife as sharp as this?" He tilted the blade slightly and slid it down the side of George's face. "They use it for skinning."
He lowered the knife and ran a finger along the bleeding wound he'd just opened on George's face. "Oh, my. It looks as if I cut you," he brought the finger to his lips and licked the blood off. "Not to worry. It is a shallow cut, certainly not a life threatening one.
"You sonofabitch," James hissed and attention returned to him.
As the Frenchman walked away from George he snapped his fingers and indicated with a quick point in the older man's direction that he wanted the warriors to finish where he left off.
"Are you going to talk to me now? Torture is not to your liking I see. Tell me, who are you and why are you here?"
"I am traveling on my people's land. He is one of your own kind. Why are you doing this?" He answer was a hard blow to the gut.
"You still have not figured out who's asking the questions here. Let me make this a bit easier for you. I already know that he," he jerked his head in George's direction, "is not French. I also have a suspicion that you are not a breed."
He let his eyes travel over James. "Your skin is dark, but we all know that can be accomplished with a little of the stain the Indians use on their own skin."
He lowered his gaze and then looked back into James' eye. Besides, your color is not exactly even.
George moaned through his teeth. James didn't want to look over. He didn't want to see what was happening to George. The next instant air whooshed from his lungs as a fist hit him hard in the chest.
More punches followed and James swung with each one. Finally, one of the soldiers supported him from behind so the punched would hold more power. James let his mind draw upon what he'd learned from New Moon about the death sleep.
The strength of the punches faded till they were little more than soft bats to his body. The captors, thinking he had fainted and feeling exhausted withdrew.
With the morning came more torture. James fought against the bindings at his wrists but it was useless.
He screamed out threats and obscenities first in French and then Choctaw as he watched the brutality they inflicted on George, but there was nothing else he could do.
Finally at the end of three days, George slipped to a place where they could no longer cause him pain. The Frenchman the others called Captain wiped his knife as he sauntered up to James.
"Well, Fitzgerald. Oh, you are surprised to see I know who you are." He glanced over his shoulder at George's body. "Don't worry, your friend did not turn you over. He died quite well, actually. You put up a bigger racket over his punishment than he did."
He slid his knife back into its place at his side. "I'm sure you will be relieved to know we don't plan to kill you, Colonel. Oh no, we won't do that. Everyone knows that to bring you in alive will be to get a nice reward. Of course, it's not necessary to bring you in good health." He slammed a fist into James' stomach.
"I would truly love to hear a little protest from you, Col. Fitzgerald." He hit him again. "Come here," he called over his shoulder. "Hold him for me!" James felt a shoulder pressed up against his back and then another blow.
He forced his mind to float as he concentrated on the death sleep. A vision of New Moon floated before his mind's eye. The blows were softer now. He would live through this. He would return to her.
Chapter Thirty-one
New Moon panted like a wounded animal as she stared into the crackling flames. It was early spring. It was a time for watching children grow. It was a time for young boys who were soon to face the trials of manhood to play at being warriors. It was a time of peace and love for the Cherokee as they enjoyed the feast of Hottuk-Aimpa Heettla Tana, the feast of renewed love and friendship.
But what New Moon saw in the dancing flames of her fire was not a vision of happiness. She wrapped her arms tightly about her body in a wasted effort to control her quaking.
Before her, contorted in pain, was the face of her beloved. Panther's eyes were closed tight against waking. She could hear the soft chant pass from between his swollen lips as he prayed to the Great Spirit to lead him deeper into the death sleep.
She scrambled to her feet and stumbled toward the door in her haste to step out into the cold night air. As Sister Wind touched her sweat-dampened skin she shivered again. Without waiting to gather a robe for warmth she turned toward the gate and started off in a fast trot for the only place on Grandfather Earth that felt sacred to her.
New Moon ignored the shouts of the gate watchman as she sprinted through. She knew word of her leaving the village before sun up would be sent to the chief. She also knew the Chief, her brother Dancing Cloud, would be waiting for her when she returned. He would not approve of what she was going to do but he would not be able to stop her.
Plans formed in New Moon's mind as she sprinted forward. She would leave her baby with Akachee. Panther's mother would keep the child safe. New Moon knew Akachee would be able to find a nurse for the tiny girl. Panther's daughter had lived for one moon and was strong. Her daughter would survive this separation and she would be healthy when the time came to meet her father.
New Moon made her way between the rough boulders to emerge at the riverbank. As she waded out into the cold water she wondered if her warrior had obtained the death sleep or if he still felt the pain she had seen on his face.
She climbed to the top of the boulder that jutted out over the river and turned to face the east. She raised her arms high and chanted with all her heart to the wind, to the sky, and to the Great Spirit.
Not long ago her warrior had stood on this stone and chanted the same prayer for her safety that she now spoke for him. The Spirits had been good to them that time, would they be again? She chanted louder.
As Grandmother sun peaked above the horizon New Moon dove from her perch into the sparkling water and then stood, the water coming nearly to her shoulders, and raised her arms high in greeting.
***
New Moon leaned her bare belly and breast against the rough bark of the hickory tree unmindful of how it dug into her tender skin. It had taken one full moon for the war party to locate where her warrior was imprisoned. Now she waited as she watched across the wide expanse of meadow, which led up to the Alabama garrison where her Panther was held.
She waited…and she watched.
Two days before she had visited the French trading post. Her lips pulled back in a snarl as she remembered the stupid French trader. She spoke to him in his own tongue and he'd thought her to be Choctaw. She pretended to drink his fire water, had rubbed her hands and body against him while she coa
xed him into telling her about the crazy Englishman called, Red Panther.
'They beat zee white man, they staked him in zee sun without water, but still zee only thing he will tell them, he iz Red Panther, beloved warrior."
The smell of rotting teeth and sour whiskey blew in her face with each word he spoke. He wiped a dirty hand across a chin encased in a tobacco-stained beard. With the other he reached out to fondle New Moon's breast. She didn't resist but leaned closer.
"Tell me more. Are they going to kill him?" Her fear for Panther and her disgust at being touched by this smelly No Thing made her voice shaky and her breath come out in a short pant.
The Frenchman mistook her reaction to be sighs of passion and ran his hand lower along her belly. He pushed her back against the fur and brought his face close to hers.
New Moon fought to keep from gagging. "You are so strong. Any squaw would be proud to lay beneath you," she cooed as her hand slipped beneath his rawhide shirt and pulled it up over his head.
His body odor assailed her and she thought she might retch. Instead she choked down her gore and ran her hands along his hairy chest. "Tell me more about this crazy white man. It excites me to hear it."
He tossed his shirt aside and fell hard upon her. He didn't seem to notice when she turned her head away. He buried his hairy face against the soft neck she exposed to him. With a rumbling laugh he nipped cruelly at her neck and breast with his sharp broken teeth.
'"Nough about zee crazy Englishman. They will be taking him tomorrow. Going to hang him in New Orleans."
Finally, she had the information she needed. She ran her hands down his back and around his sides, "Let me help you with your pants. You are right, this has taken long enough, I am ready for you now."
She felt a shudder of passion pass through his body as he raised up just enough for her to slip her hands between them to loosen his lacing.
As her hand came around her fingers curled about the smooth handle of his knife. She slipped the blade between them and then, with one smooth thrust, slid it between his ribs. As he tried to rise she gripped her legs about him and held tightly as she wrapped an arm about his neck. She shoved the knife deeper and pulled it back a few inches to plunge it in again.
