Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master

by Vanessa Brooks

  Linnet and Sarah discussed children and men, fashion and remedies. Sarah suddenly reached out and placed Linnet’s hand on her swollen belly and Linnet felt the miracle of life moving within her friend. Bumps moved across the tight surface of Sarah’s belly, rolling from side to side. The two women smiled at one another. Linnet leaned over and gently kissed Sarah’s cheek.

  “I am so happy for you,” she told her softly.

  Sarah nodded and smiled. “It will be your turn soon, Linnet, don’t fret, just wait and see.”

  “Oh, I hope so! Ever since I held that little one in my arms and cared for him, I’ve wished for a child.” Linnet sighed.

  “Much better to wait until you are returned to Boston, carrying a babe while on such a journey would be risky,” Sarah told her sensibly. Linnet knew her words to be true.

  The door opened, letting in the fresh, icy evening air. They all turned to see Peter standing holding something that wriggled determinedly in his arms. Linnet gasped. Recognising the creature straight away, she flew to Peter, who, grinning widely, presented her with a fat pink piglet.

  Linnet took the small, wriggling bundle and spun around, laughing, holding out her prize for John to see.

  “Linnet has a special affinity with hogs,” John told Hans and Sarah proudly. “When I first met her, she showed me her pig, an enormous hog that was tame enough for Linnet to pet!”

  Peter wandered over to Linnet’s side and watched as she scratched the piglet’s soft ear. “She’s yours if you want her, my Christmas present to you!”

  Linnet placed her free arm about Peter and gave him a hug. “Of course I want her, Peter; she is so adorable, thank you!”

  “The varken must stay here with her mother until she is bigger, but you can take her to Boston when you leave,” Hans told them, reaching for the now squealing hoglet. Sarah translated the Dutch word varken as pig. “I’ll go and return her to her mamma. We don’t want her rejected because she has been missing from her side for too long.” Hans left the house with Peter trotting at his heels, clutching a pig bucket full of kitchen scraps to feed to the ‘varken family.’

  “John, this is so exciting. My very own pig! I just can’t wait to mate her and have more piglets!”

  John laughed. “Poor little thing, she’s only just been born, let her grow up first!”

  John and Linnet spent two days with the Lammers. Starved as they had been of company over the winter months, it was balm for both couples to enjoy renewing the friendship that had developed between them in the early fall. They stayed two days at the farm but too soon the time came for Linnet and John to return to their cabin. They took the maps as guidance for the long journey to Boston packed safely in their belongings.

  A deep sadness prevailed upon them all, knowing they might never have the chance to meet up again.

  “When you leave for Boston, just set the cows free to roam. They will wander and find the rest of the herd,” Hans instructed. They were taking two cows back with them this time because Hans knew that two would have a better chance of finding the herd. Linnet and John rode with a cow each, tethered to their horse for the return journey. It would be slow going, matching their speed to that of the cows’ gait.

  Finally, they made their tearful farewells. “Write to us in Boston when the baby is born and tell us whether it is a girl or a boy. Perhaps you could come and stay when the child is a little older?” Linnet asked hopefully as she hugged her friend goodbye.

  “Perhaps,” agreed Sarah, knowing even as she said it she could never leave the farm to travel all that way to Boston.

  Linnet drew Peter to her and kissed his forehead. “Look after your mother, Peter, and perhaps you could visit us in Boston when you are older.”

  Peter’s eyes shone. “Can I, Mother?”

  He turned excitedly to Sarah, but it was Hans who answered. “Perhaps in a year or two when you are a little older, lieveling!” he told his son, ruffling his hair. Amidst the chorus of goodbyes, Linnet and John rode off, back to the solitude of their mountain hideaway.

  John was anxious to return to the cabin; he’d enjoyed their visit immensely but longed to have Linnet all to himself again. Seeing Sarah large with child made him want to plant his own seed; he so longed for a child of his own.

  They broke the journey once they were over half way. Sarah had packed them the usual generous supply of food, so they lunched well on fresh baked bread, cheese and cold chicken. “I long to gallop for a little while, the ground is softer and there is hardly any snow about. May I ride ahead a little way and leave both cows with you? I could light the stove and start boiling water if I arrive back before you,” Linnet asked pleadingly.

  John hesitated. He hated her roaming alone. Ever since he had come across her being attacked by Ned, he feared for her safety. “I don’t know, it’s not safe here like in England.”

  “Well, I know that now! I will be very careful and keep to the trail. Please, John!”

  She knelt in front of him and grasped his hands, raining kisses on them. He tugged his hands away, chuckling at her antics. “Enough! Very well, then.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” she cried, delighted.

  “Wait a moment… this is on the condition that you keep within my sight,” he ordered sternly.

  Linnet’s face fell. “That’s not necessary!”

  “Nevertheless, those are my terms, take them or leave them. Either that, or you ride with a sore butt.”

  She scowled. “Since I appear to have no choice, I agree.”

  John grinned at his wife’s sulky face. “Oh and Linnet, darlin’?”

  “Yes?”

  “Disappear from my sight for more than five minutes, and I promise you’ll not be able to sit for at least a week!”

  She stuck out her tongue playfully at him then turned to mount Amber, riding away with a flourish.

  She kept her word, returning to the horizon to wave at him every time she rode out of sight. When she realised she had almost reached the cabin, she cantered on ahead, intending to relight the stove and set their meal to cook.

  As she rounded the crest of the hill, she noticed a black plume of smoke rising over the trees. The smoke appeared to be coming from the direction of their cabin. Linnet kicked Amber into a canter, moving into a gallop, riding hard until the cabin came into sight. Flames poured from the windows and licked up over the eaves. Shocked, she slowed Amber to a walk, drawing to a halt as she stared incredulously at the fiery destruction of her first ever marital home.

  Had they left the stove in? She recalled John saying that he’d raked the embers over but perhaps not? With a cry of dismay, she leapt from Amber’s back and ran to the front of the cabin.

  She was almost at the door when strong arms swept her up and back away from the inferno. She screamed in horror as she turned and found herself looking straight into the red and black painted face of a native warrior.

  Chapter 20

  He was a huge man, well over six feet. Bare chested, despite the cold. His face and body were painted red and black. His dark eyes bored into Linnet’s as he spoke, his voice deep and guttural. “Mi he wi.”

  She shook her head to show that she could not understand him and tried to pull her arms free of his grip. The man tightened his hold on her, swinging her up into his arms. Linnet punched his shoulders, shrieking, absolutely terrified. Where was John? She craned her neck, looking around to see if he had arrived. It was then that she noticed four or five other braves sat quietly mounted on horses, waiting at the edge of the forest.

  The large Indian walked over toward them, he threw the now screaming Linnet up over his horse, face down. Swiftly, he mounted behind her, his arm resting solidly upon her back. Shocked and terrified, she struggled, kicking wildly as the horses and riders melted away into the trees.

  They travelled onward for an hour or more before coming to a halt in dense forest. Linnet had ceased her struggles after the native man had wound his hand in her hair and yanked hard ea
ch time she kicked. All she could think about was how worried John would be when he found the cabin burning and her missing. Perhaps he would think that she’d perished in the fire—dear Lord, he might not search for her. Then she realised he would undoubtedly see Amber, untethered and still saddled. Hopefully that would be enough of a sign that she had not even made it into the cabin before being spirited away.

  She was spilled unceremoniously to the ground and lay winded in a tousled heap. Once she’d managed to get her breath back, she sat up and scraped the dirt and leaf debris from her hair, deliberately pulling her hair out with it and throwing the lot aside to leave as a sign for John should he track them. The natives hunkered down on the other side of the horses, their guttural voices murmuring in conversation. Stealthily she climbed to her feet and edged away from them, creeping deep into the dark thicket of trees. Once she was sure she was well screened by undergrowth, she fled as fast as she could, running through the forest, where branches whipped her face and sharp brambles caught at her skin and clothes alike.

  She recalled running from Ned, and wondered why she could hear no sounds of pursuit. Perhaps the natives thought they’d be better off without her. With this in mind, she slowed her pace, eventually coming to a gasping halt.

  She stood, doubled over, attempting to catch her breath. She listened: silence. Nothing. Starting to walk, she picked her way more discriminatingly through the tangled brush. She noticed a particularly nasty scratch across her forearm and bent to lick the stinging wound. Suddenly, without warning, she walked smack into the solid chest of her native captor.

  She recoiled in shock; where on earth had he come from? The brave raised his hand, smacking her, open-palmed, across the cheek. Stumbling back, she fell to the ground. The man bent over her and said something in his guttural tongue. She stared into his dark, glittering eyes, giving glare for glare, then spat full in his face. He wiped the spittle away and back-handed her across the face again, this time splitting her bottom lip.

  “You utter b-bastard!” she screeched.

  Ignoring her, he reached down, painfully yanking her to her feet by her hair, winding it around his hand to keep a firm hold of her. He strode off, dragging her along in his wake. Linnet pulled back, resisting, but it was useless; her tactic barely touched his superior strength. Tears of pain and fear welled in her eyes.

  They arrived back at the clearing, the other natives having simply vanished. Linnet tried to kick her tormentor as she struggled to break free but the man gave an evil sneer. He picked her up as though she weighed nothing and threw her face down over the horse before leaping up behind her. This time, however, he swung her upright then, grabbing her ankle, he turned her so that she sat with her back against his chest. She sat up straight, bent slightly forward so that she did not touch him, but as the horse leapt forward, she was jolted back against the solid slab of his naked chest, his steely arm coiled around her, holding her firmly in place.

  Linnet had no idea how long they’d travelled for. Once it had grown dark, time ceased to exist and she fell into a fitful doze, waking and dozing, depending on the jolting movement of the horse.

  Just as dawn streaked the sky, they approached habitation. There came the sharp barking of dogs, jolting her out of her stupor. The horse picked its way amongst clusters of strange rounded earthen dwellings. A mangy collection of assorted dogs ran in between the horse’s legs, whining, yipping their excitement. Otherwise, the place seemed deserted. There were almost no people about, although she noticed a couple of elderly women tending to fires. She assumed that most of the inhabitants of this community were still abed.

  The native pulled his horse to halt outside one of the lodges. He pushed Linnet to the ground, where she landed like a sack of grain. He leapt deftly from the horse himself and disappearing into the opening of the humble dwelling, entering through a flap of hide that covered the entrance. Before he disappeared inside, he gestured impatiently at her to follow him. She stumbled to her feet and followed him inside, dazed, unable to accept this kidnapping, the event seeming unreal.

  She saw that a fire burned in a hollow pit dug in the centre of the dwelling. It was a relief to be inside with the welcoming warmth. Despite her exhaustion and fear, she gazed about curiously. Above the fire hung various things; smoked roots, strips of meat, a whole fish, plants, or perhaps they were herbs, strung across the width of the lodge. The floor of the enclosure was covered in braided matting. Large baskets hung lashed around the walls of the enclosure. On the opposite side of the structure, furs lay on the floor, covered with woven blankets in bold patterns.

  Linnet’s captor took her arm and led her to one of these blanket piles, he gestured for her to sit. She lowered herself gratefully onto the bedding, pulling one of the brightly woven blankets around herself. She lay on her side with her legs tucked up to her chest. Closing her eyes, her last coherent thought was of her husband. She was concerned for him and how frantic he must be feeling.

  She was awoken by small hands patting her at her cheeks and even lifting up her eyelid. Opening her eyes, she stared into a pair of wide, shining eyes that belonged to the small golden-skinned child. The boy grinned at her. She immediately recognised him, it was her native baby, the one she had found and cared for. Sitting up, she pulled him into her arms, delighted to see the child again. The small boy scrambled about on her lap, getting comfortable, then he held out his hand to show her the carved horse he was clutching. He still had it with him. She hugged his warm body and he cuddled into her, plugging in his thumb.

  Linnet smiled, entranced. “Well, I see you haven’t changed, my little suck-a thumb!” She spoke aloud, noticing for the first time that they were alone in the lodge. She settled back, enjoying the warmth and companionship of the child, his innocent presence relieving some of the exhausting terror she felt. He was the only person in this place whom she knew intended her no harm. Why had she been brought here? Were white women kidnapped on a regular basis by natives? Would John be able to track her from so far away? Would he find the carefully placed strands of hair she had deliberately pulled from her head and dropped discreetly along the route? Question after question tormented her.

  There was movement from without, then a large figure stooped in through the flap at the doorway—her captor. Today, he was clear skinned, free of the terrifying black and red paint that had coated his face and body yesterday. He’d obviously bathed, for his hair was damp and the cock’s-comb on the top of his head soft and fluffy, although there was nothing ‘fluffy’ about this man. Linnet regarded his harsh, arrogant face nervously. She noted the high planes of his cheekbones and the black eyes that appeared so arrogantly cold.

  He nodded to her, and she thought she saw his cheek twitch at the sight of the child curled in her lap. She drew the babe protectively against her and lifted her chin defiantly, staring him down, refusing to allow him to intimidate her.

  He sneered, and with a jolt she recognised him: it was the broken nose. This man was the child’s father, the same man who had come to their cabin to fetch him. Her hold on the child relaxed slightly as she realised that he wouldn’t harm his own son.

  There was a shout outside, the native spun around as another person entered the dwelling. She gasped in shock as the second man straightened up. She recognized him!

  “Will! Oh my God, Will, it is you—you are alive!” she cried, both amazed and delighted. Amidst the trauma, here was someone she knew. Someone who could help her, someone who could explain what on earth was happening!

  She was astonished. She’d assumed that Will was dead, killed by the bear she’d witnessed attacking him.

  He nodded. “Yup, ‘tis me, Will.” He came and hunkered down beside her, chucking the small boy under the chin.

  “B-but I saw the bear pick you up, it was attacking you! How on earth did you get away?”

  He grinned. “It attacked me all right, tore my left arm clean off!”

  He turned to show her his armless shoulder. The skin
had grown over the wound that was pink and puckered. “Yaogah saved me. He still wears the claws of that mean old bear strung about his neck.”

  Linnet peeked sideways at the enormous native man. He certainly looked savage enough to kill a bear. “Yaogah, that is his name?” she asked.

  “Aye, ‘tis. That child you hold is his son, Aweont.”

  She nodded. “I guessed as much. Aweont… what does his name mean?”

  Will pondered before answering. “The nearest translation is Growing Plant or Growing Flower. The meaning is a little different, though; it implies a strong, healthy, thriving growing being, whether it be plant or mammal.”

  “I see. Aweont.” Linnet rolled the name around, trying to get used to the strange sound.

  The small boy sat up, pleased she had used his name. He nodded, repeating his name himself. She smiled down at him and stroked his cheek with her finger. Then she pointed to her own chest. “Linnet.”

  She noticed that they were both being closely observed by the child’s father, and Will. The father’s features appeared to soften at the obvious rapport between her and his son. She turned again to Will; there was so much she needed to ask him. “Why has he,” she nodded at Yaogah, “brought me here? My husband will be frantic with worry by now. I have to get back home.”

  Will put his hand over hers, giving it a firm squeeze of reassurance.

  “Now, girl, you aren’t going to like what I’m about to tell you, but just be calm and hear me through. Yaogah lost his wife when his son was born. Some eighteen months later, he was out hunting. He’d taken the boy with him on the trip but the child wandered off and got hisself lost. You found the child and, by all accounts cared for him, probably saving his life.”