Lord of the Wilderness

by Elizabeth St. Michel

  She stopped in front of him. He limped a step closer.

  She raised her head, her gaze roving over him. Her eyes shone as she looked at him, then just as quickly, she glanced away, a blush reddening her cheeks.

  “You approve?”

  She lifted a brow. “I see you are hale and healthy. It is like you have never been injured.”

  His thigh throbbed where Ojistah had burned him, but another part of him burned even more. He nodded, fought a compelling urge to bury his fingers in her hair. “Thanks to you and Ojistah. Of course, my immortality adds to my legend.”

  She fingered a long, pointed porcupine quill on her dress, its point poking her fingertip. She suffered for what to say and he pitied her. He was a stranger to her, a caprice of fate that would make him her husband.

  He captured her trembling hand and held it in his larger one. Her hand lay innocently on his. He wondered at this strange new sensation, her hand feeling so at home in his, like it was meant to be.

  He placed his mouth by her ear. A strand of her hair caressed his cheek. His gut clenched. “Are you frightened?”

  “Am I not supposed to be?”

  Her warm breath touched his cold skin, light and soft as a feather.

  “I have won you, but you have nothing to fear from me.”

  She glanced around at the women stepping in time to a beating drum. “You are gallant for sure, but you don’t have to go through with this ceremony,” she whispered. “Surely the vows will not be considered sacrosanct?”

  “Ah, but we must go through this ceremony. I might be able to fight my way out, but I could not guarantee your safety. Let us get through the least of our problems at the moment. Afterward, we can discuss our futures.”

  Onontio pushed through the revelers, bobbing and weaving, whacking people out of his way. The broken nose Joshua gave him swelled as big as a pound of raw hasenpfeffer and with the scar down his cheek, served as an improvement.

  “This marriage will not hold. They do not worship the same gods and I demand to see the marriage consummated,” spat Onontio.

  A nighthawk shrieked above in a moonlit sky, his sight on certain prey. The chill of a breeze settled over Joshua. Hushed murmurings rang through the Indians. Some nodded their heads in agreement, others pulled back slightly.

  Someone asked the medicine woman for direction.

  “You will demand nothing, Onontio.” Her face lit with the dancing firelight. “And I will see the marriage is consummated.”

  Father Devereux stepped forward. “For any doubt one might have, The Longhouse ceremony and the Code of Handsome Lake allows me to perform the marriage ceremony of my God at the same time. The marriage will be consecrated.”

  The crowd roared their approval, eager to celebrate with the roasted venison, wild turkey, smoked fish, and corn cakes cooked the entire day.

  The chief stood before them and presented the tribe’s valuable wampum. Joshua took hold of them and lifted Juliet’s shaking fingers on the sacred beads. Father Devereux translated.

  “Are you prepared to be the wife of the warrior, Joshua for the rest of your life? Will you care for Joshua if he becomes ill? Will you prepare food for your husband and children?”

  She sought out his gaze, her vulnerability tugging at him.

  He gave her a reassuring smile and he saw the relief in her face.

  The promise of each vow was supported from her sweet lips. He wanted to cradle her close and tell her everything was fine. The chief turned to Joshua with the same questions, and concluded. “Marriage is a partnership and no one has authority above the other; you do not dominate your husband, and he does not dominate you. Today you have become members of a fine and loving extended family of Tionnontigo.”

  The chief allowed Father Devereux, Bible in hand to begin.

  Juliet sensed Joshua was extremely serious about the vow he was about to speak. The look of resolute and unwavering determination manifested on his face assured a rare kind of promise Joshua straightened and with intense and complete profoundness said, “I do.”

  Beneath the stares of villagers, curious about the foreign rite, Juliet’s nerves went taut as a drawn bow. She said yes, to every lifelong pledge, not actually hearing the words until Father Devereux closed his book. “Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder.”

  In one forward motion, Joshua caressed her face with his big hands, his lips stirred against hers, gentle at first, then persistent. The cheers of villagers caused her to remain stiff and awkward. But the gentle massage of his kiss sent currents of desire though her. Blood pounded in her brain, leapt from her heart and made her pulses race like quicksilver. And in that moment, the fires, the noise, the world seemed to melt away, leaving only her and Joshua.

  He finally broke apart, but his blue eyes riveted her to the spot. Suddenly looking confused, he turned away to a series of backslapping and knowing winks.

  Ojistah produced a wheel made of a wooden branch and decorated with white deerskin strips and a burnt feather design. “This wedding wheel is a symbolic gesture, guaranteeing your hopes and dreams for a happy future.”

  Juliet was again touched by the medicine woman’s generosity and held the wheel against her heart.

  “Go now to my lodge, you will not be disturbed.”

  Juliet colored from the innuendo, yet happy with Ojistah’s assurance that a consummation would not be investigated.

  Pulsing drums beat, gourd rattles clattered, while villagers danced to the Feather Song, swishing a mesmerizing array of white plumes. Joshua pressed his hand to her back, guiding her away from well-wishers, but some pulled at them to stay, apparently disappointed the newly wedded couple was leaving so soon.

  * * *

  “I should carry you over the threshold but, at this moment, my leg will not allow it,” Joshua held open the flap for her to enter. “I’m sure this is far from the wedding ceremony you have ever dreamed.”

  Inside, a feast had been laid out on platters for the married couple. Her stomach flip-flopped as Joshua’s large shape filled Ojistah’s lodge. She doubted she could eat a thing.

  They were alone for the first time. In light of the fact this was a sham marriage, in England, such a contact with a man, particularly one of his station, would have been scandalous. But that life was far behind her, for here in America, the rules were very different.

  “How did you happen to come here?” Her head had spun at his sudden appearance at Tionnontigo and part of her sought to hear he’d remembered his promise to return for her.

  He positioned himself on the floor and tore off a piece of roasted venison. “I swore to come back for you. When we came upon the Hayes’ farm, I feared we were too late.”

  Her blood quickened. He had come back for her. He had not forgotten his promise.

  She drew a long thankful breath. “We might have been slaughtered, too, but the night before…” she said. “Orpha ordered Eldon to be whipped. She had a British captain by the name of Snapes whip him to death.” She drew a quivering breath, remembering the horror. “I was to be next. So, Mary and I escaped at dawn. We were on the hill when…the screams…the attack…the butchery…” Her throat clogged. Tears welled.

  Joshua waved his hand for her to come join him. “No softly-bred woman should ever witness that, and with certainty, Onontio proved his ruthlessness. When we didn’t find your bodies, Two Eagles searched, picked up a faint trail, suggesting you heeded my instructions and left before the attack. Later, my worst fears arose when we discovered the spot Onontio captured you.”

  Sitting beside him, she stole a glance. Firelight played on his recklessly handsome features, the mean cut on his forehead, and the ridges and valleys of his muscles. What words had been on her tongue disappeared as quickly as snow on the desert. She twisted her fingers together. She did not know this man at all nor what he expected. He had saved her and she owed him a great debt. Her mind spun like a bewildered child as their marital night loomed.

/>   Certainly, she was attracted to Joshua, and she came from a country where arranged marriages happened all the time. Couples managed through the years, sometimes barely, and some spouses cheated while the other looked the other way, accepting of their unhappy states.

  Images of her father loomed, horrid old wounds surfaced, disallowing her peace. Exhausted from being undesirable and unloved, she wanted more…to break free of the chains of feeling unwanted. To marry for love. Was there such a thing?

  She looked at the splintery rafters scored with thorny herbs. He was destined for a life far from what she was accustomed to, and faraway from England. But her new life was not what she was accustomed to either. “The last days have frightened me beyond anything I’ve ever encountered, and I pray never to go through the experience again.”

  Her chest panged. Her marital declarations lay fervent upon her heart. To her, marriage, an act consecrated before God, lay indissoluble. The handsome Achilles sprawled next to her. To know his kisses, to feel his warm embrace…wasn’t that what she desired? No.

  Joshua had been noble protecting her and his honorable gesture precipitated him to be forced into marriage. But to feel yoked to her? To be miserable in a relationship he never wanted? She couldn’t do that. “I will not hold you to your vows, Joshua.”

  In the flickering shadows of the fire, he raised a dark brow. “You mean by way of an annulment?”

  Had it been a trick of the light, his earnestness when the vows were spoken? Of course, he had to put on a show for their audience. Why should she expect anything more?

  She straightened. “Of course. I’m sure under the circumstances, you—”

  “It is just a business arrangement. I went along with the ceremony to save our lives.”

  Juliet swallowed. “We are not expected to—”

  He tore off another piece of venison. “Eat. It would be a great insult to our hosts.” He ignored her question on completing the marriage. He seemed to be studying the hot coals of the fire, but she felt his full attention on her.

  “You will return to England and be dissolved of all ties to me.”

  “To England?”

  “I can make it happen.”

  “How can I repay you?” She dipped her gaze to the furs strewn on the floor. Instinct warned her to flee. There was danger here, close to her, a whisper away.

  He saw where her gaze lay and shrugged his shoulders. “I will take you to your cousin at Fort Oswego. I have no need of a wife.”

  Her chest squeezed. Her cheeks burned. What had she expected? That he’d been so taken with her that he’d want a real marriage? That for once in this life she’d feel wanted? Her gown grew scratchy as if it were wool chafing her skin instead of soft doeskin. She dragged her palms over her dress. “Do you already have a wife?” The thought of him being a bigamist repulsed her. Yet she was to blame. He’d married her to save her life.

  Black laughter stirred his broad shoulders. He leaned close, his breath warm upon her cheek. “Those dreams are long gone.”

  A wave of relief washed over her. A strange silence grew between them and she nibbled a piece of cornbread sweetened with honey, nuts and berries, yet bitter upon her tongue. For a moment, she could have sworn she’d seen a flash of remorse cross his face. Guilt? “Has something happened to someone special in your life?”

  “My affairs are not your concern.”

  He sat in silence, saying nothing at all. Instead of the pain she sensed in him a moment ago, now there was cool detachment. “I wouldn’t want to burden you with a wife. I was just thinking that maybe you and I…might possibly suit.”

  “Juliet, this is just a business arrangement, and like you said, you are terrified in the wilderness. I’m gone long days trapping. I couldn’t protect you during my absences.”

  She pressed her lips together. “I see. I will not provoke your sensitivities any longer than is necessary nor have you saddled with my company. How do you plan to get me back to England?”

  “My first plan is to leave as soon as possible without offending our hosts. There are many braves who are Onontio’s friends determined to make our leave-taking—difficult.”

  He did not say he and Two Eagles could dissolve into the forests, yet with two women? To escape with the added burden might bring them to great peril.

  Juliet pushed her hair behind her, anxious to be gone from this place.

  “You mentioned Captain Snapes?” A vein pulsed in Joshua’s neck.

  Images of Snapes’ leering face, his filthy probing fingers…what could have happened…what almost happened. A ping of caution erupted in her chest. What if Joshua and Snapes were friends? A year of indentured servitude had taught her to keep silent or earn a beating.

  His face was set in a grim line and she straightened with the ferocity of his inquiry, prompting her to risk telling him the truth. “He was at the Hayes’ farm at the time of the attack. He was in Tionnontigo recently and made a point to inform me he ordered the attack on the Hayes’ as retribution for Horace stealing land from him.”

  Joshua’s head snapped around. “I can’t imagine a British officer going against a loyal King’s man. When was he here?”

  “Would you do something to Captain Snapes for his crimes?” She wanted the man brought to justice. Patriot or Loyalist, no one deserved that kind of slaughter.

  He bowed his dark head which gleamed in the meager light, the muscles in his body tightening. “I want to catch the bastard for his raids—”

  “He left shortly before you arrived. Snapes ordered Onontio to raid forts to the south and leave when the moon turns full. He is to meet up with Colonel Butler and Captain Snapes with many warriors. Snapes promises ten pounds for each scalp. To know that others will suffer what I saw at the Hayes’ farm. He must be stopped.”

  A woman’s frantic voice called to them from outside the lodge. They both rose, Joshua translating the woman’s rapid-fire words. “Ojistah must have Woman with Hair of Fire to help Princess Evening Dove.”

  As Juliet moved to follow the woman, Joshua hauled her back against his chest. “You must refuse. What knowledge do you have of such things?”

  She tossed her hair back over her shoulders. “I am a trained midwife.”

  He jerked his head back with that revelation, and then narrowed his eyes on her. “Even so, this is not England. If anything happens to the chief’s wife or child, you will be blamed and our lives will be forfeit.”

  “My mother died in childbirth and if my father had allowed someone with ability to tend her, she might have survived. I cannot fail Princess Evening Dove, not when I have the skills to help her.”

  She wrenched free and trailed the woman to the birthing lodge. The chief shook his head, refusing to let her pass. Ojistah spoke impatiently with heated argument.

  Joshua limped beside her. “Ojistah told the chief you have great power.”

  “Tell the chief, I have great skills. If I bring his child into the world, then he must set us free.”

  Joshua translated. “The chief says if the child and the mother die, we will all die.”

  “I am not afraid.” The lie came out smoothly.

  The chief stepped aside. Juliet ducked beneath the flap. Princess Evening Dove, her hands tied at the wrists above her head, squatted from a center pole. Naked, her black hair lay plastered to her dark skin. In Europe, Juliet had heard of similar practices where women were held beneath their arms and made to walk to expel the baby.

  “Could the chief come in and help us lay Evening Dove on the furs?”

  A look of horror crossed Ojistah’s face. “Men cannot tread the same path as a pregnant woman. They lose their power.”

  Ridiculous. “Untie Evening Dove and lay her on the furs.”

  Ojistah translated. The three women helpers glared at her, and then glanced to Ojistah for orders. Juliet gazed at the heavens through the smoke hole, saw the stars, wishing Moira was with her. Memories of the many childbirths she’d helped Moira perform came
back to her in a rush. She returned her gaze to the medicine woman.

  “Excuse them,” said Ojistah. “They are the chief’s sisters and heavy with suspicion.” Her silver braids swung as she roughly rebuked them for their hesitation. The women shifted and laid the chief’s wife upon the furs.

  Juliet dropped to her knees, moving her hands across Morning Dove’s swollen belly. She was young and pale. In the forefront of Juliet’s mind was how the chief had lost two of his previous wives. Juliet squared her shoulders, fully dedicated to using everything in her power to keep Evening Dove alive.

  In an even tone, Ojistah said, “I have given her a tea of squaw root to speed the delivery. You will see the baby is bottom first.”

  Juliet concurred as she, too, observed the breech presentation. Moira had told her breech babies were ten times more likely to cause both the infant’s and mother’s death.

  The child had dropped, making outside manipulation impossible. In England, a doctor might have been called—if there was time. Only twice had she witnessed Moira’s interior maneuvering of an unborn baby. Furthermore, Princess Evening Dove had been given an herb to speed the contractions. Not good. She glanced over her shoulder to the door flap. Too late to leave.

  Juliet grabbed a strap of sinew and knotted her hair on top of her head, trying to remember everything Moira had instructed her concerning the practice. Observing and performing were two different things.

  The princess moaned and panted with the savagery of one contraction after another—a child impossibly positioned to bring safely into the world. Her lip bled and swelled where she bit too hard. How long could the woman last with the rapidity and intensity of contractions? Not long. “Ojistah, I’m going to reach inside and move the baby.”

  The old woman, always calm, nodded her head. “You know of such practice?”

  Juliet did not answer. Not when her nerves prickled up her spine, and screamed for her to run, not when she prayed to have as much faith placed in her as possible. She searched the lodge and washed her hands in a vessel of cool water.