Candace McCarthy (18 page)

The Lenape braves returned to their village, triumphant. They had entered the camp of the enemy war party, and they had kidnapped their chief. Although the encampment hadn’t housed a village of Iroquois families like they’d first thought, it had been a nasty battle for the Lenape band of men. The stockade had protected a band of Cayuga and Seneca warriors. Two Lenape warriors had been wounded in the fight. Three Iroquois were dead, and countless others injured.

The only reason that Fireheart and his men had been successful was that they, unlike the enemy, had had the advantage of surprise. They had taken the Iroquois unawares, and had been successful. The Lenape men had Flaming Sky as their captive. Fireheart hoped to win the peace the Indian people of the area needed.

Entering the village ahead of his men, Fireheart searched the compound, clutching his right shoulder. He had been slightly injured during the raid when an Iroquois warrior and he had tussled with knives drawn. A hard smile formed on his lips at the memory. He had fared much better than the Seneca. He was alive with only a scratched shoulder while the Iroquois was dead.

Women and children greeted them. Fireheart looked for Joanna, and found Moon Dove instead. It was how it should be, he thought.

“Moon Dove,” he said with a smile.

Her concerned gaze studied his shoulder. “You must let me bathe you and bandage your wound.”

He nodded, and she looked relieved. “Come,” she said. He studied her with amusement as she grabbed his other arm, and pulled him across the yard to his own wigwam. She tugged him inside, and instructed him to sit. He complied, surprised and not displeased at this new display of spirit.

“If you do not have it cleaned, it will become filled with bad spirits,” she murmured as she poured water into a bowl and found a piece of soft doeskin. As she rinsed the area around his injury, she clucked her tongue, and asked about the raid.

“We accomplished what we went for,” he said darkly.

She paused, her hand poised over the wound, and looked at him. “It was bad?”

He saw her worry and shook his head. “None of our people were killed. Some Iroquois, but no Lenape.”

Releasing a relieved sigh, Moon Dove continued to wash his arm. Watching her, Fireheart wondered why she would display such relief then decided it was because she cared deeply for her warrior friends who had gone.

When the wound was bathed, Moon Dove set down the water. “I shall return with medicine for your injury.” She scurried out the door.

While she was gone, Fireheart thought how nice it was to have awoman provide care for him. He thought of Joanna, and felt a shaft of pain. Better to think of Moon Dove and the comfort she would offer him as his wife. And if he felt no passion, no burning desire for Moon Dove, who was to say it wouldn’t come in time?

Never,
an inner voice said.
Your soul is pledged to Autumn Wind.

Yet where was Joanna? She had not come to greet him as Moon Dove and the others had.

Fireheart forced the voice from his head, and concentrated instead on the woman who would return soon to bandage his wound.

 

 

A brave stepped from the shadows, intercepting Moon Dove’s path as she crossed from her wigwam to the
sachem’
s.

“Moon Dove.”

She gasped, and clutched the medicine bundle to her breast. “Black Fox! You frightened me.”

His expression softening, he took her hand. “Come, I must talk with you.”

She shook her head and pulled away. “I cannot talk now. Fireheart is injured. I must tend to his wounds.”

Emotion worked across the warrior’s features. “Fireheart has suffered only a scratch.”

“He was cut with a knife!”

He scowled. “He will heal. He does not need your medicine to make him well.”

A hurt look entered her dark eyes. “Why are you saying this? You know my medicine will help him.”

The warrior sighed. “I am jealous. I wish to have you for my own, and you will belong to our
sachem.
”

Moon Dove’s eyes filled with tears. “We must not speak of this—”

“Your love for me?” he challenged.

She closed her eyes, shook her head. “I must go.” She started to leave him.

“Wait!”

She froze and faced him, her heart beating wildly within her breast.

“Say that you love me, and I will be content.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell me you don’t love me then.”

Her features contorted with emotion. “I cannot do that either.” She was bound to the chief, but her heart belonged to Black Fox.

He nodded then, and a small smile came to his lips. “This man loves you as well,” he said.

 

 

They stopped for the night, camping under some trees, but where a clearing allowed them a campfire. As Thomas Brown worked to ignite a flame, Joanna wondered if there were Iroquois in the area. If there were, she thought, the fire would alert the Indians that there were white men about.

She offered a silent prayer for their safety, and sat down on a blanket the fur trapper had also thoughtfully provided. Gillian sat beside her.

“How are you faring?” Joanna asked her friend. Gillian smiled weakly. “I’m fine. A bit tired, but I’ll live.”

“That’s the spirit,” Joanna said, making Gillian grin.

They sat companionably for a time, sharing a container of water, watching Brown and John build their campfire into a roaring flame.

“John said that the fire would keep away wild animals,” Gillian commented.

“Which ones?” Joanna said. “The four-legged or two-legged kind?”

Fear flashed across her friend’s face, and Joanna instantly regretted her teasing remark.

“Oh, Gillian,” she said, “I’m sorry. I was joking. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

Gillian nodded, but hugged herself with her arms.

The blanket was large enough for both women to share. Fortunately, with the warm night there was no need for a top cover. Each man had his own sleeping pallet, and John settled down on his while Brown took his rifle to hunt dinner.

Joanna turned her gaze from Brown as he entered the dark regions of the forest, disappearing from view, and found John studying her.

“We’ll be on our way back to England in no time,” he said with a smile.

She nodded. The thought gave her no pleasure. She had not missed the comforts of Neville Manor. She had been raised among the Lenape, and found she had adjusted quite well upon her return. And she didn’t relish the idea of getting on another sailing ship.

“Come here,” John said. “I’d like to talk with you.” She frowned. She could hear him very well from where she sat. But, she supposed, so could Gillian. Why shouldn’t Gillian hear what he had to say?

Reluctantly, she rose, and moved over to his sleeping pallet. When he patted the blanket next to him, she sat down.

He touched her hair, and she stiffened, then lifted her face to him with a forced smile. Perhaps sensing her tension, he released her hair, and placed his hands on his raised knees.

Joanna glanced down at his breeches, and imagined a different man’s bare knees. Fireheart’s.

“We’re to be married, Joanna,” John said softly.

“Yes, yes, I know,” she replied.

“You must learn to relax with me, or how are we to be man and wife?”

She inclined her head. “The idea is still new to me, John. We’ve been friends for so long, it seems strange to think of us as more.”

She studied him in the firelight. He had discarded his powdered wig for his own hair. His dark tresses were thick and shiny, worn back in a queue. She wondered why men like John chose to cover up their locks when it was obvious that their own hair looked better.

Something dark flashed in his blue eyes as she gazed at him. The emotion, whatever it was, disappeared quickly. Startled, Joanna could only stare at him, and wonder what was going on inside John’s thoughts.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

“About the wedding—”

“We’re not even on England’s soil yet,” she said, feeling dismay. “There will be time enough to think about such things.”

He looked hurt. “I just thought—”

She sighed heavily, and apologized. “John, I’m sorry, but I’m tired, and I can’t think of anything other than sleep.”

His expression softened. “It has been a long day,” he said with obvious relief.

“Yes, it has.” She glanced at Gillian. “Gillian is tired, too. She’s been a real friend through all of this.” She shook her head with amazement. “How on earth did she manage to convince you to let her come?”

A smile curved her fiancé’s lips. “She pleaded her case, and though I was reluctant at first, I relented.” A gleam lit his blue eyes as he looked at the woman on the other blanket. “She can be very persuasive.”

Joanna knew that Gillian could be stubborn and extremely convincing when she wanted to be. She had seen the young woman in action among the daughters of her uncle’s peers. When Joanna had first come to England, she’d been ostracized, labeled “that heathen niece of Roderick Neville.” It had been Gillian who had come to her defense, befriending Joanna when the other girls kept their distance. Finally, through Gillian’s persistence, some of the other girls started being friendly. In Gillian’s own quiet way, she had seen that Joanna was accepted.

Gillian had lain down on the blanket. She opened her eyes to find both John and Joanna staring at her. She seemed to blanch until Joanna got up, and approached her with a smile.

“John was telling me that you can be persuasive when you want,” she said. “I asked him how you managed to come along on this journey.”

Gillian flashed John a nervous glance. Some of the tension left her features as she faced her friend. “I threatened to release all of your horses should I be left behind. It would have caused quite a stir.”

“Gillian!” Joanna exclaimed with a laugh. “You wouldn’t!”

Gillian lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I know that, but he didn’t.”

The two women exchanged grins.

Joanna gazed at her friend, and felt a rush of affection. “I’m glad you’re here,” she admitted.

Gillian glanced away, looking uneasy. “I’m glad, too.”

 

 

“Where is Autumn Wind?” Fireheart asked.

Little Blossom seemed surprised by the question. “She has gone, Fireheart. She and her English friends left after you went to kidnap the enemy chief.”

“Gone?” His chest tightened with pain, making it difficult to breathe. “Gone to England?”

“Kihiila,”
the young matron said softly. “Perhaps you should speak with Mary Wife. She will know more about Autumn Wind.”

Although she’d talked about going soon, he hadn’t really expected her to leave before his return, he realized. He had wanted to say good-bye. Now she was gone, and he would never see her again.

Little Blossom was right. He must speak with Mary Wife. Fireheart started across the yard toward Mary’s wigwam.

“Fireheart!”

He halted as he saw Turtle That Hops crossing to meet him.

“I must talk with you,” the brave began.

“Autumn Wind is gone,” the
sachem
said as if he’d explained something, but he hadn’t.

“Aye!” the brave exclaimed. “I do not trust that John Burton. I saw him with that woman—Gillian. They were joined in the forest like two dogs stuck together.”

Fireheart stiffened. “John and Gillian have joined as a man would with his wife?”

“Kihiila,
this is so.”

“Autumn Wind must have decided not to marry him.”

Turtle That Hops shook his head. “She has not changed her mind. She does not know that John and her friend sneak off to lie with each other.” The brave grabbed his chief’s arm. “But I fear there is more. I think the white man is not an honorable man. I think he would steal and kill easily for what he wants.”

Fireheart shrugged. What could the man possibly want from Joanna? he wondered. His blood chilled. Her
uncle’s property.

“How do you know this John would kill?”

“Little Cloud,” the brave mentioned his son. “He saw the white man’s gun. It was a small gun, but Little Cloud saw this John kill a rabbit, then let it be.”

“He didn’t take the fur, or bring back the meat?” Fireheart frowned. This showed a disregard for the spirit of the animal and the gifts of this earthly life.

“He did not touch it. He killed it, and laughed before he put away his gun.”

Fireheart began to fear for Joanna’s safety. What manner of a man was this English John, one who would lie with his wife-to-be’s friend? he wondered. One who would kill for no reason.

“I must talk with Mary Wife,” Fireheart said. “I must know if this English John would take Autumn Wind away to harm her.” He looked at his friend who looked relieved.
“Wa-neé-shih,”
he said.

Turtle That Hops acknowledged the
sachem’
s thanks, and left Fireheart who continued on to see Joanna’s cousin.

 

 

Joanna began to have doubts during the second day of traveling. She wasn’t ready to go back to England, wasn’t ready to marry John. She wanted to talk with her cousin again, say all of the things she’d never taken the time to say. She wanted to know what Mary had written in all those letters.

If she waited much longer, it would be too far for her to return. She could go back, spend a few more days, then seriously consider what to do with the rest of her life.

Recalling her time with Fireheart, Joanna realized that Fireheart must care for her. He had made exquisite love to her. She was no expert on relationships, having lost her mother and father at a young age before being torn from her cousin Mary to live with the monster who was her uncle. But surely a man whose only motive had been lust wouldn’t have been such a tender thoughtful lover.